The Yin to His Yang

by Wynter Daniels

  “What?” he balked. “But I’ve got a signed contract. How can they do that?”

  “Calm down. As long as your financing comes through, and you can show that you’ve got the full amount of the down payment, it’ll all be fine.”

  Griffin swallowed hard. “I don’t have the money yet, but as soon as I sell these houses here, I will.”

  “I sure hope you’ve got a buyer ready to go.”

  He glanced out the window at the vacant spot where Bud Weller’s car had been a few minutes before. “I will.” He had to.

  After her four pm meditation class, Stevie headed out back, opened the door to the cat area, and was instantaneously surrounded by meowing kitties. “Yes, my loves, it’s time for dinner.” Her feline entourage followed, and a few of them raced in front of her, zigzagging ahead, no doubt making sure she was indeed going the right way.

  But when she opened the food bin, all she found was a few lonely nuggets of cat food. Where had the huge sack that Asa brought gone?

  The cats’ meows grew louder and more urgent.

  “I promise I’m working on it, guys.” She had to step over them to escape the hoard. Grabbing a bag of the food she kept in her pantry for her own cats, she tried to figure out what could have happened to all of that kibble. If a raccoon or some other animal had broken into the enclosure, surely they’d have left some evidence.

  As soon as she’d filled the bowls in the lanai with the replacement cat food, she walked the perimeter in search of some breach in the screening, a hole or tunnel under the structure. She was about to retrace her steps when something crunched under her Nikes. Crouching down to get a better look, she gasped at what was apparently a trail of kibble. And it led toward the backyard of Mrs. Percival’s old house.

  She followed the path to the shed next door—the same building Griffin had been in and out of time and time again over the past few days.

  Who would steal her cats’ food? Griffin? Was he purposely trying to make her angry?

  First, he gave her the cold shoulder, and now this. Her jaw automatically clenched. Didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten anything all day, but after Griffin’s rejection, her usually robust appetite had withered. She placed one hand on her chest, and the other on her belly. Drawing a deep breath, she counted to six, then exhaled to the same beat. The Pranayama almost always did the trick to calm her down, but after repeating the technique four more times, her irritation still simmered. She marched around the house in search of Griffin and found him kneeling on the lawn, under the laurel oak, planting flowers around the base of the tree.

  Shading his eyes from the sun, he looked up at her and gave her a curt smile. “Hey, how’s your day going?”

  She was in no mood for pleasantries. “Did you steal my cat food?”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?” Getting to his feet, he brushed off his gardening gloves and took them off. “Why would I do that?”

  “Perhaps you…I don’t know.” But what reason could he have? Why would anyone else do such a thing? She tugged on one of her braids. “I wonder if magic is at play,” she murmured. Then realizing she’d spoken aloud, she bit her bottom lip. Maybe he hadn’t heard.

  Griffin let out a laugh. “Magic, huh?” He rolled his eyes.

  Hunger growled in the pit of her stomach. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge things you don’t understand.”

  Out of nowhere, a blinding flash of lightning exploded above them. Stars swam before her eyes, and she swooned, suddenly lightheaded. She started to fall and reached out for something to steady her.

  Strong arms encircled her waist, but it wasn’t enough to keep the dizziness at bay.

  Everything went black.

  Griffin’s heart thundered in his ribs as he raced to his porch carrying Stevie. Had she been zapped by that rogue lightning strike?

  She shivered in his arms. “What are you doing?” Her voice was raspy and weak but she appeared otherwise fine.

  Setting her on the porch swing, he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank goodness you’re okay. You passed out. I wasn’t sure if you’d been struck by the lightning.”

  Glancing around, she scrunched her forehead for a moment. “That was pretty bizarre, huh? It’s a gorgeous, sunny day.”

  “Lots of strange occurrences today,” he said. When she rubbed her arms, he noticed goose bumps on her skin. “I should apologize for my behavior before. I…had a headache. I shouldn’t have taken out my foul mood on you.” The half-truth made him feel almost as guilty as he had when he’d given her the cold shoulder a little while ago. It wasn’t her fault that he’d had a racy dream about her, one that made him want her even more. Nor could she help it that their attraction wasn’t practical or ethical, considering that he was her landlord.

  He tipped his chin toward his house. “Let’s go inside and warm up. Aunt Dorothea kept a stash of all kinds of teas, as well as a big bottle of sherry.” He gestured for her to go in ahead of him. “Pick your poison.”

  “Tea’s fine.”

  He strode in after her and nearly crashed into the sofa. “What the…?” The sofa, the chairs, the coffee table, everything in the room was in a different spot than it had been half an hour ago. His head started pounding. Rubbing his temples, he sat in his aunt’s recliner.

  “Are you all right?” Stevie asked.

  “I don’t know. Someone’s rearranged all the furniture in here. Maybe I’m going crazy.”

  Stevie sat on the couch. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs that sherry.”

  Remembering that she’d fainted a few minutes earlier, he slapped a hand to his forehead. “God, I’m sorry. I should be taking care of you, not vice-versa. I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”

  “I’m okay, really. I think I was just hungry.” She closed her eyes then stretched her arms over her head. Gradually lowering them, she inhaled deeply. “I’m wondering if there’s a specter here. The energy feels kind of intense.”

  “A specter? Like a ghost?” Maybe the house was haunted. He dared not agree with a woman who believed in all kinds of magic, at least not aloud. A week ago, he would’ve written off the notion as complete hogwash. But there were too many weird occurrences that defied explanation. But if it was true, and there were paranormal hijinks afoot, it meant that everything Griffin had always believed about the world was wrong. Heck, his mother really could have supernatural abilities. No, there had to be some rational reason for the day’s crazy events.

  Stevie shuddered. “My magical radar is picking up something of a supernatural nature.”

  What if she was right? They could be in danger there. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wasted no time getting her out of the house. “Come on. I have an idea. But first, why don’t you grab a warm jacket from next door? We need to get you something to eat.”

  “O-okay. Why not?”

  After Stevie had put on a heavy sweater, he drove them the short distance to the downtown business district and parked on a side street. “If you’re correct about there being some…strange energy at Aunt Dorothea’s house, I thought it best for us to get away from there, go somewhere we could speak without…” He grappled for the right words—a way to convey his confidence in the rational world that he’d always known. “A neutral venue. My new favorite bakery is around the corner. Let’s grab something sinfully fattening. Your grandmother turned me on to their honey-bourbon truffles.”

  She widened her eyes. “My grandmother? She’s not supposed to be eating sugar-laden pastries. She’s flirting with diabetes.”

  Oops. Cledith would have a major tongue-lashing for him when she found out that he’d ratted her out. He circled his car and helped Stevie get out, holding onto her hand several seconds longer than necessary. When their eyes met, heat ricocheted between them, until he forced himself to drop her gaze.

  At Delaney’s Delectibles, they each picked out a cupcake and took them to go, along with a water bottle fo
r each of them. Walking past the alley, a slim blonde with pointy ears passed them going the opposite direction. She nodded politely to them, and Griffin noticed that her eyes were the most unusual shade of aqua. No—not just unusual—unnatural. He stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder as she disappeared into a jewelry store.

  “What is it?” Stevie asked.

  Gesturing across the street to the bench alongside the park, he took her hand again and led her to the crosswalk. “Let’s sit there and eat.”After the light changed, he took her across. The instant they sat down, Stevie bit into her cupcake, and moaned. The erotic sound snatched Griffin’s breath away. He took a second to compose himself before tasting his own.

  “Why were you staring at Willa?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “The lady who went into the jewelry store,” she explained. “She owns it. And she’s engaged to one of my neighbors, huge guy who looks like a linebacker.”

  He took a swallow of his water. “There was something strange about her eyes, about her. And those pointy ears couldn’t have been prosthetic.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he thought about all the weird things he’d seen since arriving in Nocturne Falls. “She isn’t the only one. I’ve noticed many people here who aren’t quite…normal.”

  Stevie’s throat twitched with a swallow. “Oh?”

  She wasn’t telling him something, he was sure of it. “Come on,” he said. “What’s going on here? I just saw a guy with fangs across the street, and there are icicles hanging from Santa’s Workshop even though the temperature is in the fifties. Those are real icicles, trust me.”

  Taking another bite of her cupcake, Stevie met his stare. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. You know, just a show for the tourists.” She tipped her chin at his water bottle. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

  “No, I’m not.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think that maybe…”

  “What?” Setting a gentle hand on his knee, she slid closer.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never once doubted my sanity, but now, this odd town…I don’t know. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I’ve seen a gargoyle move, pink smoke come out of nowhere inside my house, and maybe even a ghost. How else would I explain those things?”

  “A ghost?”

  “Yeah, yesterday. Could have been a very unusual shadow. I don’t know.” He tossed the remnants of his cupcake into the trashcan. “Maybe I should get the heck out of this place, go back to New York and find a really good shrink.”

  Stevie took his hand. “I have to tell you something, Griffin. It might be hard to believe, but it’s the truth. And it’ll answer all your questions about Nocturne Falls.”

  Chapter Seven

  There could only be one explanation for the fact that the Nocturne Falls water wasn’t working for Griffin. He had to be at least part supernatural himself. Stevie cleared her throat. “Do you have any relatives who are…special?”

  His brow creased. “Special how?”

  She shifted on the bench. “Well, I’m a witch.”

  Muscles around his jaw ticked, which was the same reaction he had every time she mentioned anything to do with the occult. “I’ve read that some people consider themselves witches, sort of like a religion. Is that what you mean?”

  “Some witches don’t have magic. Those like me…some of us possess certain gifts, or powers.”

  He nodded slowly. “Like when you blew up that cat hair tornado?”

  So the water really didn’t work on him. “I didn’t do that, but it did happen.”

  “At the time I brushed it off, assuming I’d imagined that someone or something had—what’d you call it—manipulated energy. I’ve been thinking about that night and everything that’s happened since. So either I’m losing my mind, or there really is such a thing as magic.”

  Her heart pounded. “There is. But those who aren’t supernatural aren’t supposed to see any of that—if they drink the local water, which is from the falls.”

  His brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “That somewhere in your gene pool, there must be magic. That would be the only reason the water doesn’t work for you.”

  He backed away, and new lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “Could it be?”

  “Watch.” She turned up her palms and concentrated on the very first spell her grandmother had taught her. Envisioning a sphere of energy, she manifested it. A swirling, shimmering orb appeared there, hovering just above her hands.

  Griffin gasped. “My God.”

  “Do you want to hold it?”

  His eyes widened. “How?”

  “Just believe.”

  He tentatively reached out for the ball, and she passed it to him. If Griffin possessed no magic, he might have felt the energy, but he wouldn’t have seen it. After a moment, she heard footsteps nearby, so she let the energy go. The sphere shrank to a spark then disappeared completely.

  “Holy cow,” he said. “I wouldn’t have believed that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

  She nodded, thinking about the day so many years ago when her grandmother had done the same demonstration for her. “I was very young when my grandmother realized that I’d inherited her gift.”

  “What about the rest of your family?”

  His question poked at the emotional wounds that she tried so hard to keep from opening. “My father—her son—he doesn’t have any magic, nor did Grandma’s sister. But her mother did, and so does her cousin, Etta.” No need to mention her brother. Simon’s only gift was making those who loved him believe that he’d changed, that he’d gotten the drug monkey off his back when he hadn’t. She tamped down the sadness so she could continue. “One of your ancestors might have passed down some supernatural power to you. That’d be the only way you’d be immune to the effects of the Nocturne Falls water.”

  A cloud passed over his features. “Hmm.”

  She sensed there was something he wasn’t saying. “What?”

  His lips flattened into a thin line. “My dad always told me that my mother had professed to be a witch, but he said it was all hogwash, that there was no such thing. That’s what I’ve always believed. Until today.”

  “Can you ask her?”

  The furrow of his brow deepened.

  Hadn’t he once mentioned something about his mother? Darn, obviously that was a sore spot for him. She grasped his lower arm. “Sorry. Is she…gone?”

  His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “No, but we’re not in contact.”

  Her chest squeezed. “I know it’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d do everything in my power to make things right. I’ll never have that choice with my mother, but I hope that someday, I’ll find my brother Simon, and apologize for not being there for him when he needed me.”

  He stiffened and sat up taller. “It’s not that simple with my mother.”

  “It never is. I was taken away from my mother, and I was compelled to leave Charleston when my ex-boyfriend tried to hurt me. I had no idea that Simon would fall back into his old ways and start doing meth again, but I abandoned him. Without me there to make sure he went to his meetings, he fell off the wagon. Perhaps someday he’ll come back. But my mother’s gone forever, and I’d give anything to be able to talk to her one more time.”

  Griffin squeezed her shoulder. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for your brother’s issues. You didn’t abandon him.”

  But she had. “Simon is why I first started taking in stray cats. And why the thought of leaving them is so painful.”

  “I get that, Stevie, I really do.” He hung his head. “I’ve never owned a home, and until recently, I didn’t think I’d ever find one I wanted to buy. In my job, I see all the things that can go wrong in houses, from electrical to plumbing to structural problems. Then I lucked into the most perfect little brownstone in Brooklyn. The money I’ll get from the sale of the properties here will cover my d
own payment, and hopefully a little for improvements.”

  She tried to find the words to talk him out of his dream, but couldn’t bring herself to do that.

  “When I was growing up, my dad moved us at least every year or two,” he said. “He always attributed the change to his work, although I suspected he was afraid my mom would find us. After I married my ex-wife, I was sure at least then I’d found some permanence. That wasn’t meant to be, though.”

  The cupcake in her stomach turned to lead.

  Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Finally, Griffin spoke. “Maybe my mother is a witch. If I’d inherited something like that, wouldn’t I know it?”

  “Not necessarily. Particularly if your father squelched that in you. I’m sure we can figure it out.”

  Clasping his hands, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I’m not sure I’m ready to delve into that right now.” He stood up. “Ready to head back?”

  Shrugging, she crinkled up her napkin and stuffed it into the bag. Then she tossed it into the trash and strode with him to the Volvo. “Mind if we stop at the Shop-n-Save? I need cat food.”

  “No problem.” He drove them to the supermarket and insisted on buying the largest sack they had in stock.

  After a short, mostly silent drive home, Griffin hit the remote to raise his garage door. He parked and turned off the motor.

  As he opened the passenger door for her, Stevie looked up at him. “You know, I understand why you want to sell my house.” She climbed out, taking the moment to tamp down her emotions. “I won’t stand in your way.”

  He nodded soberly, and they started out of the garage. Until the loudest boom she’d ever heard exploded overhead. The garage door crashed down an instant before they’d have walked under it.

  Stevie screamed, her heart lodged in her throat.

  Griffin shoved her toward the wall just as the huge cable that had kept the door suspended swung past them. “You okay?”