Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel)

by Cynthia Brint

  “Just like that, huh?” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I looked around until I spotted a cluster of round lights hanging on a wall. They can't really expect me to wave my hands and just, poof, lights? Can they?

  Grault folded his arms, content to sit back and watch the show. My furtive looks to him for help, suggestions, anything, were all ignored.

  “Go on,” the fish-thing said at my elbow. “I'd so love to have light again.”

  “I'm not sure I can do what you're asking,” I admitted. Experimentally, I ran my fingers over the lights. Magic, seriously?

  “You can do it, you're the caretaker!”

  Blinking, I glanced at the creature, noted its wide-eyed face. Behind it, I couldn't help but be aware of how the group of guests were all watching me expectantly. “What's your name?”

  “Vibbs,” it said quickly, zipping in a circle. “And you're Farra, right?”

  I nodded, finding myself strangely compelled to want to help the tiny thing. Turning on the lights should be simple. “That's right. Um, Vibbs, are you sure that all my grandmother did was wave her hands around to get the lamps on?”

  “Of course,” Vibbs said proudly, “she had magic inside of her, it was how she did everything here! She was quite amazing, and sweet, and—”

  “I get it, I get it,” I said, cutting him off. Scrunching up my mouth, I set the lantern I'd been holding down by my feet. With both hands free, I wiped my palms on my dress. Thinking about what I was about to do made my fingers feel useless, rocks flopping at the ends of my wrists.

  I'm going to look like an idiot. I hate this, but what else should I do? Beside me, I caught Vibbs' delighted grin. I need to just try, worse is it humors them all.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted my arms. I didn't know what to do, just that I really did feel stupid. Wagging my hands around, I pictured every magic show I'd seen on television.

  There was a heavy, silent hush as the tenants waited. Closing my eyes, concentrating fiercely, I waved my hands faster. Come on, come on!

  Behind my dark lids, I thought I caught a flicker of orange color. Excited, I opened my eyes in a flurry of dark lashes. In front of me, the round glass bulbs sat lifelessly.

  I hadn't honestly thought it would work. My stomach felt only a wink of disappointment... until I looked over, catching Grault's worried stare. Everyone was looking at me, and while some had no real faces to make their emotions clear, I could feel the confusion.

  The worry.

  “I don't understand,” Vibbs said softly. Turning my head, I saw him floating near my lantern on the floor. “You have this, so you must be able to light the other bulbs. Right?”

  And then I understood why Grault had made me bring the lantern. He wanted me to look good, to make them think outright that I was a witch like Tessa.

  “I'm—listen, I'm sure it will be fine. I'll get the lights on in here, fix everything up, as soon as I can.”

  Vibbs drifted back towards the group. “Without magic, how can you do anything? How can everything be fine?”

  I had no retort. There was still so little I knew, was it possible I did need something as intangible as 'magic' to be the caretaker here?

  The creatures were all leaving, wandering silently up the stairs and away. Lifting the lantern, I walked back to Grault. Together, we watched them all go. “I messed up, didn't I?”

  He squinted down at me, dark eyes glistening in the filtered lights of the thick green windows. “I'm not sure you're to blame, Miss Blooms. Not anymore than someone born blind is.”

  His comparison made my neck flush. Blind? What? How am I...

  “Come along.” He twisted smoothly, jacket kicking on his legs. “We've papers to go over.”

  As we left that room of stairs, I cast a forlorn look back at the string of lights. Never in my life had I thought that, one day, not fixing some bulbs would leave me feeling like such a failure.

  ****

  I was having trouble focusing, it was clear Grault had noticed. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his cheek. “Miss Blooms, are you understanding this?”

  He sat across from me in the main entry, parked beside the large desk with its heavy book. Another chair from along the wall had been moved beside it, a spot I was slouching in rather unlady-like.

  Lifting my chin, I observed his wrinkled lines of frustration. They gave his bloodless looking skin a funny design. “Honestly, I'm not sure I'm capable of understanding any of this.”

  He rolled his eyes, not hiding his mounting dark mood. “Miss Blooms, are you always going to be like this?”

  “Like what, baffled by witch grandmothers, glowing monsters, and lamps that require finger-magic?” I paused, eyeing him as he waited impatiently for me to finish. “...It's possible.”

  Grunting, he smacked the stack of papers into my lap. The contact shocked me enough to make me jump on the seat. “At this rate, you're never going to meet the level of expectation of your guests!”

  “I think I have some right to be upset here,” I muttered. Gripping the papers, I glanced over the top quickly. He'd been trying to explain to me Tessa's will, but it was clear my head was elsewhere. “This is just a lot to take in. It may shock you to know I've never run into anything like what I saw in there.”

  He placed his hands on the desk, gripping it to the point the wood squeaked in distress. “They weren't 'monsters' as you called them.”

  “Then what are they?”

  “They're your guests!”

  “No,” I said, lowering my tone pointedly. In that moment, I felt like I was pleading with him. “What are they, Grault? What is this, what am I really doing here? If what you said is all true, and Tessa was a witch that took care of this place, these—these guests, then I...” I can't do this. I turned away, staring at the front door. “I'm clearly nothing like her. You have the wrong person for the job.”

  He was quiet, stepping close enough that I felt his shadow on me. I wondered if he was about to touch my shoulder, to try and comfort me, and was both relieved and disappointed when he did nothing. “Miss Blooms, you may be right.”

  No one had ever said I was right before. Lifting my eyebrows, I gazed upwards at the sympathy on his face. I'd seen it before, I still didn't think I liked it. “What?”

  “You may be right,” he said gently. “You could be the wrong person for all of this. However, the problem is... you're our only option.”

  I'm the only option? “That's pretty awful, relying on me.”

  “I wouldn't count yourself out so quickly, Miss Blooms.” It was close to a compliment. It was hard to tear my eyes from his face, but I managed. The papers in my hands served to mull the strange way my blood tingled. Wills were notoriously grim things.

  Grault tugged the other chair closer to me, sitting in it and folding his ankles. “Is it clear now, that without someone of Tessa's blood to take over here, this place will continue to fall apart?”

  “The more I listen to you, make myself believe this magic stuff is real, the more that seems logical. I guess.” Tugging at the ends of my hair, I looked down at my feet. The shoes were crusted in dirt from the walk. “But the more I believe that, the more I'm terrified I can't help. Grault,” I said, my laugh hollow, “I wasn't sure I could become a caretaker before I knew about the weird stuff it'd involve. What do I do?”

  “You can try your best, Miss Blooms. What harm is there in trying?”

  “And if I can't do what she did, if I'm not a witch like her?”

  He hesitated, large fists forming in his lap.

  I squinted at him doubtfully. “You expected I would have magic, like Tessa, didn't you?”

  “I—hoped you would, yes.”

  “And now,” I said, feeling the heat on my tongue, “knowing I don't, are you discouraged?”

  We stared at each other, though he won the contest of not blinking. Grault was terribly good at being still. When he reached across, placing his hand on mine, I was reminded of how he'd let me squeeze it when
I was scared earlier.

  That memory made my whole face glow.

  “Listen to me,” he said gently, voice full of wet grit. “I will only be discouraged if you walk away from all of this right now. If you leave us—this place—without even trying to fix things... only then, Miss Blooms, will I lose faith in your abilities. Magic or not.”

  My hand felt like a butterfly under his. Swallowing loudly, I tugged it back, protecting it from... from something I wasn't sure of. “You're serious, aren't you?”

  He closed his eyes, giving a deep nod. “I am.”

  I inhaled until my chest ached, then breathed out in a noisy whoosh. “You're very convincing. You should consider becoming a car salesman.” The look of shock he sent my way broke the tension, made me laugh until it echoed around us.

  Grault didn't seem to know what to do. Staring at me, his mouth half open, just made me giggle more. “So... you're going to stay?”

  Wiping the corner of my eyes, I lifted the stack of papers. “If reading through this doesn't kill me first, yes. I'll stay.” I hope I don't regret this.

  He seemed pleased, warmth touching his ebony eyes. “Good. Then let's go over the will, and then we can start outlining your duties as the new owner of this home.”

  A home... how funny, I thought, listening to Grault prattle beside me. It's been so long since I ever called a place my home.

  Chapter Seven.

  It was clear I'd need to take the will into town if I wanted to legally claim the house in my name. And, after my explorations of some of the bottom floor, my hunger to get out in the fresh air was growing.

  “You won't come with me?” I asked, pulling a thin sweater on over my dress. I was sure it was still sunny outside, but the greenish world of the house made things... colder.

  Grault leaned on the inside arch of a hallway. He looked torn between being nervous, or being excited. “I cannot go. Besides, you don't need help with this, Miss Blooms. A short walk into town, some paperwork at the Barrow Village Hall, you'll be fine.”

  I lifted a single eyebrow. “That's all well and good, but why can't you go, too?” Maybe he doesn't want my company. The thought was poisonous, I buried it fast.

  “I simply can't.” He said it so factually, I bit my tongue and decided not to press it. “I'll see you soon, Miss Blooms.”

  “Do you... want me to bring anything back?”

  The bridge of his nose crinkled. “What?”

  “I just figured, well, if I'm running some kind of weird hotel here—” I pushed on faster at his scowl, “—I should maybe grab some supplies? Food and things?”

  His forehead smoothed, one long finger tapping his chin. “Hmn. The stocks are actually very low. Yes, that's a good idea. Let me get you a list.”

  A list will quickly break what tiny amount of money I have left. “Um, actually, on that note.” I poked my index fingers together uneasily. “I asked you about money, before. I'm going to need money to buy things, you know?”

  Grault waved a hand, not looking phased by my comment. I wasn't used to people shrugging off requests for money. “Yes, yes. Come this way so we can get this moving.” He mumbled softly to himself while we walked. “Some things for the larder... and the pantry... hmn.”

  My attention wandered as I gazed around the room and its stairs, eventually fixating on a string of round lights. Covertly, as we got close, I waggled my fingers at them.

  The glass bulbs remained dull, unlit.

  Sighing, not really surprised, I trailed Grault into the study. He wasted no time, shuffling behind the long desk below the big portrait.

  Standing there, looking up at that smiling painting, I felt tiny as a pebble. Tessa was amazing, they all keep saying it. My lips crawled down at the edges. She was a witch, she had powers and years to practice how to take care of this place. I don't. It's not my fault that this is harder for me than it was for her.

  “Here we are.” Grault stood triumphantly, a tiny bag dangling from two fingers. He nudged the drawer behind the desk closed, striding my way in two long steps. “Here, this should be more than enough.”

  Cupping my hands to catch the bag when he dropped it, I untied the top. It felt heavy, but I still wasn't ready for what was inside. “This is...”

  Stacked perfectly, wrapped in an elastic, was a rectangle of twenty dollar bills as thick as my wrist. “There has to be over eight hundred dollars here!”

  My pale companion nodded knowingly. “More than enough, correct?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, correct, I—Grault, how much did my grandmother leave me?”

  His eyebrows lifted a hair. Reaching out, he gestured for the will. I tugged it from my purse, handing it over. “Were you really not paying attention?” Flipping the papers, he pointed to a section that outlined the wealth.

  I'd never seen so many zeroes.

  “Her own mother left her a fortune,” he said, “it is enough for anything you could need. Now, let me make you a list, and you can hurry along before it gets too late. I'm unsure how long the town lawyer will be in the Hall.”

  I had nothing to say, my fingers trembling on the money. He wasn't kidding at all. I remembered Grault's words, my mind buzzing wildly, his voice dull in my ears.

  I never joked with you, Miss Blooms.

  Not once.

  It was that moment that I truly, in my very core, believed everything that was going on around me.

  If all of this was real...

  What else was waiting for me in that strange house?

  ****

  The walk into Barrow Village was refreshing. It helped to clear my head, though that only served to make me dissect my new perception of the world more clinically.

  Magic, witches, monsters—no, not monsters. Grault said they weren't monsters, though he didn't actually clarify what my 'guests' actually were.

  Now that it was the middle of the day, I saw that the town was bustling as everyone went about their business.

  Catching an older woman in a wide brimmed hat watching me by a mailbox, I gave her a tiny smile. She didn't return it. Instead, she shoved her mail into the blue box, then jogged across the street without looking back at me.

  Huh. That was weird. Twisting my hand tighter on my purse, having left the heavy backpack at the house, I stopped on the sidewalk. Now that I was aware of it, it felt like other people were watching me nervously, too.

  My skin went clammy under the prying eyes. What's this all about? What's the problem? I glanced sideways at a man on a bench. He quickly ducked back behind his newspaper. Is it because I'm a new face? Dirk did say that in a small town, everyone knows everyone.

  I was relieved when I finally spotted the Town Hall. Ducking inside, out of range of the milling, nosy people, I breathed easier. The building was rather small, as Town Halls went. Inside, it was like a dome stretching upwards. A tiny window in the ceiling lit the place.

  In the rays of sun, I spotted motes of dust. Not like I can judge, my new home is filthy.

  “Can I help you?” The voice was feminine, bored. A woman sat in a small cubby to the side, easily missed.

  Clearing my throat, I wandered her way. “Yes, uh, I'm here to—well, I guess I need someone to go over some legal documents.”

  She adjusted the thin wire framed glasses on her nose. “Certainly. Let me get Franz for you, he's our resident lawyer.” I thought she would dial a phone, or speak into an ear-piece. Instead, she stood and cracked her back. Then, as I looked on in confusion, she walked across to a door with pale, scuffed glass. Her knuckles tapped gently. “Franz? Franz! You've got someone here who needs you.”

  I didn't spend a minute waiting before he pushed the door open. “Oho? What's that?” Like a man too tall for what his body had to offer, Franz stretched his way out of his office. I could see his knees threatening to poke through his trousers as he walked. “A client you say, Debra? Lovely, just, hold on and I'll make some room in—in here.”

  His eyes reached me, that long face coiling int
o a display 0f horsey teeth. Unsure what to do, I just gave a quick wave.

  Franz vanished, the sound of chairs scraping and papers fluttering as background noise. I knew what to expect before Debra waved me over, before I peeked into that little room.

  Despite whatever he'd done, it was entirely a mess. I saw a stack of playing cards partially hidden behind the door. I imagine he doesn't get a lot of business in such a small town.

  “Come in, come in,” he said with that giant smile. I took one more glance around the room, noting the low ceiling.

  Not so bad, a little small, but I should be fine. Slipping in, I fell into the chair he gestured at.

  Facing me across his cluttered desk, Franz extended a hand. “Franz Firth, nice to meet you.”

  His skin was slippery, I held back a wince. “Same here, I'm Farra Blooms.” Before my eyes, I watched his face turn the color of sour milk. It was a look I'd seen on Dirk, but now I could make more sense of it.

  “Oh. Oh, you're Tessa's...”

  “Granddaughter, yeah.”

  He mopped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, digging into drawers frantically. “Aha, yes. Right. I'm so very, very sorry about your loss. I didn't—well how do I put this—didn't actually expect anyone to show up to claim her... well, her estate.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I slid my copy of the will from my purse. Franz froze in his neurotic searching, staring at me now that the papers were on the desk, under his pointed nose. “Why didn't you think anyone would come, Mr. Firth?”

  “Erm.” Gingerly, he slid the papers closer. From under heavy brows, he gave me a brief glance. “Well, Miss Blooms, your grandmother was the sort who kept to herself. I didn't believe she had any relatives left.”

  “'Left?'” I repeated curiously. “You knew my mother, too?”

  “Not closely, I just knew of her. A daughter running from her mother is—hmn. It's only that things get out quickly in places like this.” He seemed to realize how awkward the air felt. “Ahem. Anyway. Let me just look over this quickly. I don't imagine there'll be any issues, you seem to be listed as both executor, and the only recipient.”