"That pink," I said, eyeing Frank's bright locks. "It's called Apex Predator Pink, isn't it? Only animals at the top of the food chain can risk being so bright and flashy."
His eyes twinkled. "Save some of that sass for your beau. Take notes and tell me everything tomorrow."
I gave him a teen-quality eye roll and turned around.
Chet stood there, his green eyes bright as he flashed me a smile. He didn't look quite as uncomfortable as he'd been in the chocolate shop.
This is backwards, I thought. Our relationship was moving in reverse. Chet had been his most relaxed on the first day I'd arrived on his street. Each time since then, he'd appeared less comfortable around me. He didn't act at all like someone who'd been an acquaintance on the internet years ago and was becoming a friend now. He was acting more like someone who feared contamination, with each exposure increasing the risk of something terrible happening.
Maybe it was residual memory from being possessed by the ghost of his former neighbor, but I knew my assessment of Chet Moore was accurate. The man was troubled by something, and that something was me. My presence in his life. He'd wanted me there, but now he didn't.
What was his secret? I felt like I'd known all about him once, long ago, but I couldn't remember now. His secrets were hidden in murky depths.
"Hello," I said, because someone had to break the awkward silence.
"Hi." Chet looked down at my pink leather purse, which was slung over my shoulder. "I see you've got your purse," Chet said. "If your shift is over, I can walk you home."
"And I see that your hands are empty," I said. "What did you do with my chocolates?"
He glanced around, looking like an animal in a trap. "I got hungry and ate them all," he said.
"I don't believe you."
"Fine. I didn't get any. It was a stupid idea." He looked down at his shoes. "But we can stop at the chocolate shop on the way home. I'll buy you anything you want. I'll buy you the whole the store."
Behind us, Frank piped up, "In the heart-shaped box!"
Chapter 22
"It feels good to walk," Chet said. "I'm glad I had to get my truck serviced today."
"Me, too."
We were at the entrance to a park I hadn't noticed before. It was only a few blocks away from my usual walking commute, but since I'd only walked to my job a total of six times including that Monday, I hadn't yet explored alternate routes. The woodsy area was called, according to the sign, Pacific Spirit Park. It was a densely treed area with several walking trails, including some designated as off-leash runs for dogs.
We continued walking and entered the park. The air was a few degrees cooler here, and the air felt relatively moist. This is why the call it a rain forest, I thought.
"I haven't been entirely honest with you," Chet said.
"You don't like marzipan? That explains why you made that face when I fed you the last chocolate." We had visited the chocolate shop on our way, where Chet had made good on his promise to buy me as many chocolates as I wanted. He hadn't been keen to eat many himself, but I'd insisted he partake.
Chet guffawed. "I only made that face because I've never eaten my weight in chocolates before, and I was going to explode."
"You did your best," I said. "Thank you for picking up the tab for the chocolate, but you didn't need to apologize. I'm not bothered by what Corvin said at brunch. He's a kid, and kids do unpredictable things."
"But he kept carrying on about people being dead. The boy needs to learn how to be civilized and act like a human."
"If you think he's bad now, wait 'til he hits his teens. You might want to subscribe to a Wine of the Week delivery service and start stockpiling."
"Is it really going to be like that? You and Zoey get along so well."
"Oh, well, my daughter is amazing. I lucked out and got better than I deserved. People say she has an old soul."
He slowed his walking pace, falling behind by a few feet. "Who says that?"
"Mostly her teachers. What do Corvin's teachers say about him?"
"Not much if they know what's good for them." Chet took big strides and caught up with me. "But I did get an email this morning congratulating Corvin for going a full week without biting anyone."
I suppressed a laugh because I wasn't sure if Chet meant to be funny or not. He sounded so serious. And what sort of ten-year-old goes around biting people?
"Your daughter is very important to us," Chet said.
Very important to us? What an odd thing to say. I turned to study his face. His expression was neutral, but the shade of the forest was making his cheeks appear hollow. Hungry. He could use more visits to the chocolate shop.
He caught me looking at him and bared his teeth in a quick smile. "What I mean is, Zoey could be a good influence on Corvin. Other than his outburst on Saturday, the boy's behavior has been much improved. He's happier now to spend time on his own in his room. He likes looking out his window and seeing Zoey in her room."
"It's hard for kids to not have a sibling," I said. "I would know, being an only child. Then again, nobody gets to have it both ways, so we can't really compare."
Chet's fake grin faded. "There's a connection between some siblings, especially twins and triplets, that nobody understands except for them. It can be powerful. And downright scary if you're dating one of them."
"Chet Moore! Have you dated twins?"
He laughed. "It's not what you think." He swiveled his head left and right, looking behind us without slowing. He'd been scanning our surroundings that way since before we'd entered the forest. He checked the immediate vicinity, then the middle distance, then the far-off distance. Our visibility was limited here in the dense pacific northwestern rain forest, but whenever we crossed another branching trail, he took a good look.
"Were you in the military?"
He coughed. "What makes you say that?"
"The way you're looking around us, like you expect Robin Hood and his band of merry thieves to swing down from the fir trees at any moment. It must be your ingrained training, and not that you know this park is a crime hotspot, because it was your idea to go through the park, and you wouldn't have brought me here if you knew it was dangerous."
He slowed his pace again, looking at me very carefully, as though seeing me in a new light. "I'm an engineer," he said. "I work for the city."
"That's all?"
He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "Would you like to see my resume?"
"No," I said. At the mention of a resume, my thoughts went back to my aunt, and her letter of recommendation. I had forgotten to buy sharp-edged, heavy chocolates for lobbing at her.
"How's Zoey settling in at school?"
"Great, as far as I know." I grinned. "She hasn't bitten anyone."
"Has she changed since she turned sixteen?"
"She's not eager to learn how to drive, if that's what you mean. It was actually her idea to sell our old car before the move. She said it was to raise funds for the house deposit, but just between us, I think she wanted to avoid learning how to drive for as long as possible." I slowed and hopped over a small puddle in the middle of the trail. "Zoey's funny. In some ways, she's wise and mature beyond her years, and in other ways she's just a little kid."
"Like how?"
I pressed my lips together to slow myself from oversharing. Zoey wouldn't appreciate me divulging all her deepest feelings to our neighbor.
"Girl stuff," I answered.
Chet, as expected, didn't press further.
"How are you doing, Zara? I hope they're treating you right at the library. Your coworker with the pink hair seems interesting."
"Frank? He's hilarious."
Chet kept looking around us, and up at the sky.
We talked for a while about my new coworkers, and the loud time card punch, and even the Grumpy Corner. Chet gave the appearance of listening, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere.
"I heard a rumor about Winona Vander Zalm," I said.
This g
ot his attention.
"Tell me what you know," he said, sounding irritated.
"I talked to another neighbor of ours on Saturday, a man named Arden. Do you know who I mean? He's got a Labradoodle named Doodles. Sweet dog."
"Arden? I believe goes out on the ocean in a yellow boat."
"I don't know about his boat, but he told me Winona Vander Zalm electrocuted herself in the bathtub." I punched Chet on the arm. "You told me she died peacefully. That doesn't sound very peaceful to me."
He rubbed his upper arm and increased the distance between us while continuing to walk.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about today," he said. "I'm glad you brought it up, actually. We're opening an investigation. According to the coroner's report, she did die by electrocution."
"You lied to me, Chet Moore."
He flinched as though I'd actually slapped him. "Please forgive us," he said softly.
"It's fine," I said. "I understand. You were only trying to protect me. You didn't want me thinking about getting a bazillion jolts of heart-stopping electricity when I'm enjoying a relaxing bath."
"Exactly," he said quickly.
I stopped walking and stared at him. "Back it up a sec. What do you mean, 'We're opening an investigation?' You're a cop? I thought you were an engineer."
"I am an engineer," he said. "But can you keep a secret?"
I bit my lower lip. A secret? Like the fact I was a witch? "Somewhat," I said.
"I work for a department that sometimes acts in conjunction with law enforcement."
"Is this a small town thing? Like how the mayor is the coroner and also the morning radio DJ?"
"Not like that." He'd stopped along with me, and now was twitching as his eyes darted around. If his ears could swivel, they'd be swiveling, scanning for sounds.
There was no one around to overhear, but I leaned in and whispered anyway. "Secret agent? FBI? Private detective?"
He nodded in the direction of a narrower path that branched from the one we stood on. "Let's keep walking."
I followed as he led us into a darker patch of forest.
The temperature here was even cooler.
I'd taken a dozen steps down the side path when I heard a GONG sound inside my head. The muscles at the base of my skull clenched, sending a blast of migraine-like pain through my head. I blinked away the stars. The pain left as quickly as it had manifested. What was that? It had felt like a tiny gong being rung by a tiny person living inside my skull.
Was it Winona Vander Zalm, trying to take possession of my body? Or some sort of Witchy Warning System?
Darkness flitted overhead. Did a supernatural danger lay waiting for me along this forest trail? Or was it simply a normal, human response to the over-stimulation of Chet's handsome company plus digestion of a dozen rich chocolates?
I rubbed the base of my skull and waited for another blast. Nothing happened. When I looked over at Chet, he had a curious expression.
"Is everything okay?" he asked. "We can talk somewhere else if there's something about this forest that upsets you. Some people say the trees here have eyes and souls."
He had a purposeful tone, like he was trying to provoke a response. What was he up to? I mentally ran my current situation through my Zoey-simulator, where I imagined how I would feel about her doing a thing that I was doing. Would I scold her for walking in the dark forest with a guy she barely knew? Probably. But Chet was our neighbor, not a stranger. Plus Frank knew I was with him, and since Frank was such a gossip, all my coworkers knew as well.
Chet said, "Zara, talk to me. What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said with a smile. "This forest doesn't scare me. Unless you think it should? Any bears in these parts?"
"We're in the middle of a town," he said. "The scariest thing in this forest is a raccoon."
"They can be rabid," I said.
"Duly noted. I'll be on guard for rabid raccoons."
He pressed his hand lightly against the small of my back to get me walking faster. We continued on the dirt pathway, switching to single file where it narrowed further. The lush canopy overhead blocked the sun. The gong in my head hadn't gone off a second time.
After a few minutes, I said, "Tell me more about this secret investigation thing you do."
"I'll tell you what I don't do. I don't work for the FBI or the CIA or Homeland Security. I work for an organization that prefers to keep a low profile, and my job is to look into unusual events."
"How unusual?"
"Things that go bump in the night."
I barely restrained myself from jumping up and down. "You mean like the X-Files? I knew it. I knew the X-Files were real. Are you a believer, like Fox Mulder, or a skeptic like Dana Scully?"
He didn't even crack a smile. "The X-Files are part of the FBI, and I already told you I'm not with the FBI. And, more importantly, the X-Files aren't real. It's a TV show, like Wicked Wives."
"That's my other favorite show," I said, gushing.
"Never heard of it," he said.
"Are you kidding? If you were a fan during my Zara the Camgirl days, you must have heard of it. I talked about that show constantly."
He snapped his fingers. "Oh, right! Wicked Wives. I remember now. That was the one about..."
"Regular housewives who are secretly witches." I laughed a little too loud. "Totally unbelievable."
Slowly, he answered, "I have an open mind."
"How open? Are you secretly a warlock or something?"
"Not a warlock," he said without hesitation. "I told you. I'm an investigator."
"There's something you're not telling me."
"Zara, I haven't told you everything about this town. There are—" He stopped walking and cupped one hand around his ear. "Did you hear that?"
I froze, putting my hand on a tree trunk for balance.
In the stillness, I heard a branch snap nearby. And then another. It hadn't been branches on the ground, though. The sound was coming from the tree branches overhead.
Chet must have realized the same thing. We both looked up at the dark canopy of lush leaves.
GONG!
The pain at the base of my skull returned with a vengeance. Ouch. I pushed the pain down to a level where it wouldn't cloud my senses. How did I do that? I didn't know, and didn't have time to wonder. The canopy shivered as a dark shape flitted from one tree to another. Something was stalking us from above.
"We're not alone," Chet said.
"No kidding."
I crouched down and picked up a staff-sized branch from the side of the path. I turned to face Chet again but found only empty air. He was gone.
I whirled around, searching for him. My head was throbbing. He had to have left the path and gone into the trees.
The murky darkness around me got darker. A black form appeared in the tree canopy and grew like an ink stain.
My fingers tingles. Suddenly, my arms moved with minds of their own. A shockingly bright pulse of blue shot from my fingertips, temporarily blinding me like a camera flash.
The man playing the gong inside my head was the least of my concerns. I'd just shot lightning. From my hands.
The darkness that was descending let out a horrifying squawk. It was coming straight at me.
I repeated the hand movements. I squinted this time. Another blast of blue shot from my hands, brighter than before.
But I was hit. The darkness had struck me, or maybe it was a kickback from my blue flares. The blow knocked me off my feet. Down I went, landing flat on my back hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I gasped for oxygen as the darkness expanded, covering me like a cloak.
I made the hand gesture a third time. Go, lightning bolts!
But the spell—assuming it was a spell—felt wrong. Nothing came from my fingers but tiny sparks, no bigger than a struck match.
GONG!
The throbbing in my head was unbearable.
I closed my eyes. I was tired. So tired. I longed for the quiet
of the bottom of the sea, the peaceful absence of other minds disturbing my thoughts.
Did I hear wings?
The air around me beat with what felt and sounded like huge wings. The wind swirled around me, sweeping dirt and grime into my nose and mouth.
I heard a voice over the gonging and the wind. Sleep now, my beauty. Sleep, and wait. You will rise again in the eyes of...
My fingers tingled. I rolled over and grappled in the darkness for my stick.
Chet had abandoned me to a monster. Or he was the monster.
Either way, I wasn't going down without a fight.
Chapter 23
My eyes were watering from the debris flying at my face, but I managed to open my eyelids a crack. I hadn't found my big stick yet, but my fingers were tingling. I pointed my hands straight up and tensed my body. My fingertips sparked once more—barely—with a damp hiss.
The wind was tearing at the trees, knocking down branches all around me.
Something shrieked.
I opened my eyes wider. The wind slowed just as I did, and I could see the darkness taking form. It was a bird. An enormous monster of a bird. It shrieked again, its cry loud enough to make my ears ring. It was descending toward me. Its gold eyes flashed in the midst of its inky mass. They were the largest eyes I'd ever seen, outside of a museum. As it neared, its wingspan spread so wide I couldn't see both wingtips at once.
I finally found the stick, gripped it tightly, and thrust the tip into the air. I braced the base of the makeshift spear between my knees and the forest floor.
The creature beat its wings in reverse and hung in the air, its feathered chest inches from the tip of my stick. Gold eyes glared at me. The sharp beak split open to let out another cry, this one a scream. The beat was so close, I could smell its breath, mingling with the sweet pine of the forest and decaying leaves around me.
I raised my free hand, and willed my magic to work. Telekinesis, or blue lightning. Come on, anything! My fingertips grew hot, but nothing flashed. The energy reservoir for my witchy defenses had been drained.
Movement flashed at the edge of my vision.
Not another one, I thought, and began grappling around for a second spear.
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