The Faye's Secret: A Keepers of Light novel

by Sarah Beth

  The man beside her pulled a chair over and sat down, leaning on his legs. “What’s the last thing you remember, Abigail?”

  Half of her brain wondered how this stranger knew her name. The other half wanted to know where the hell she was. But then she found herself answering his question anyway, the pain behind her eyes beginning to pound harder. “Um...I drove out of town to the cemetery...I remember getting out of my car…” Her eyebrows pulled together tightly, she couldn’t remember anything after that, no matter how hard she tried. After a moment she gave a meek shrug, “That’s it...I don’t remember anything after that.”

  The man nodded, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. He inclined his head towards the end of the bed where Wesley still stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Wesley here found you out there, seems like you blacked out. Does that happen often?”

  Since waking up in a room full of strangers, Abby hadn’t felt in danger. She realized she should have — she could have been kidnapped and should be terrified. But none of the inhabitants of the room gave her any reason to feel uncomfortable or afraid, and the pounding in her head was making it more difficult to think by the second.

  Just because she wasn’t threatened, though, didn’t mean she didn’t want her own questions answered. “Where am I?” she asked again, hoping her voice sounded stronger that time.

  Tori answered, handing the glass of water back to Abby and urging her to take another drink. “You’re at Alex’s house,” she indicated with her head to the man beside the bed, “Wesley wasn’t sure what else to do, so he brought you here.”

  Abby gave the glass back to Tori after taking a drink, and glanced from Alex to the end of the bed. She didn’t bother saying that he could’ve taken her to the local clinic, which would have made more sense. Maybe the guy had panicked, bringing her to his family? She pulled the blanket covering her legs closer to her chest. “How long have I been out?”

  The three people in the room shared a glance before Alex sighed and looked back at her. “Almost five hours.”

  Five hours? That had never happened before. What could have changed to make her pass out for that long? Her heartbeat quickened, anxiety making her skin crawl. Her face must have shown the panic she felt inside, because Tori and Alex were quick to reassure her.

  “It’s okay, we brought your car here and it’s in the garage…” said Tori.

  “No need to worry, child. You’re perfectly safe here, don’t feel like you are in any danger…” Alex said as he laid a gentle hand on her arm.

  She had blacked out before, a couple of times. But it had always been in the safety of her home and never for that long. She was still in such shock she barely registered Tori leaving the dim room, heading to the right down a narrow hallway, the empty water glass in her hand.

  Alex gave her arm a slight squeeze, tearing her attention out of her own thoughts and back to him. The sudden movement made her head spin. “It’s alright, Abigail. I promise you, you are safe here.”

  She was starting to feel like passing out again. The pounding in her head was almost unbearable, spots occasionally danced in her vision. The room felt too small, tightly packed with the people and furniture it held. She was fairly sure her voice shook when she spoke, “How do you know my name?”

  A sheepishness came to Alex’s face, “We looked at your driver’s license.”

  Oh.

  She was going to give in to the impending blackness that threatened to swallow her when Wesley took up the place Tori had vacated. He looked at her intently for a moment. She had just enough sense left in her to notice his skin color made his crystal blue eyes seem unnaturally bright. “Why were you in the cemetery, Abigail?”

  She heard Alex say something, his tone not as gentle as it had been a moment before. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Wesley’s. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to rid them of the fog that clouded them. “I…I needed answers...”

  Wesley’s brows pulled tight on his forehead, “Have you ever blacked out like that before when you channel a spirit?”

  What was he talking about — channeling a spirit? Had some ghost taken over her body in the cemetery? Is that way she couldn’t remember anything? Raising a hand to her forehead, Abby shook her head, “I... I don’t know what you mean...I didn’t do anything.”

  Wesley’s lips parted to say something else but was interrupted by Alex, “Wesley, enough. The girl needs rest.”

  Transfixed, Abby watched as Wesley’s eyes left hers and looked across at Alex. The small lamp beside the bed, that Abby hadn’t even realized was on, reflected in his eyes. The crystal-blue pools seemed to shimmer.

  “We need answers, Alex. If she’s behind the murders–.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, son. Does she look like a murderer to you?”

  Wesley scoffed, “Well, no, but –.”

  “Wesley.”

  The tone of Alex’s voice shifted deeper, sharper. Even in her bleary state of mind Abby could hear an order when one was given. She watched as Wesley snapped his mouth shut, his lips pushed into a thin line. He might not have been speaking but Abby got the impression he had a lot to say. How such cool-toned eyes could look so fiery was a mystery to her. Her eyelids were feeling heavy, her limbs starting to feel like they were made of led again. Why was she so tired? She didn’t usually feel so drained after an episode.

  “You need to rest, Abigail. Your body is still recovering.”

  Forcing her eyes to stay open, she shifted her head on the pillow to look at Alex. There were small wrinkles beside his eyes, a small frown on his lips. Somehow, she found the strength to speak, “Why do I feel like this? This...this hasn’t happened before.”

  Alex glanced past her briefly before meeting her eyes again. “From what Wesley described, your body was overtaken by a spirit. Given enough time, your body just can’t handle that invasion and it begins to shut down. But I haven’t seen this happen in quite a long time.”

  There were so many questions filling her but just the thought of asking them made her more tired. So many things didn’t make sense and yet here she was, laying in a strange bed with barely enough energy to lift her head. She’d been safe until now — she believed that no one in this house meant her any harm. Maybe she could rest a bit more before getting her questions answered.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Alex smiled softly, “Rest, child. I will help in any way I can when you wake up.”

  Before she could form a thought of agreement, her eyes slid shut. The last thing she heard was the shuffling of footsteps and the door being gently shut.

  Chapter Four

  ❖

  Abby

  The next time she woke up she was alone.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted herself off the bed and sat at the edge, her feet dangling. Her head was still pounding, but not as badly as before. Taking stock, she noted the rest of her body didn’t feel like dead weight anymore. Both good signs that she was well rested after whatever that episode had been.

  She glanced around the room for the first time with a clear head. Taking in the soft brown of the wood walls, the long dresser against the wall opposite the end of the bed and the door to the hallway open a few inches. On the bedside table sat a lamp, a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a note. With a sigh, she reached out and picked up the note.

  Abigail, feel free to take a shower if you want. The door to the left of the bed leads into a bathroom, towels and your bag from the car are on the counter. Tori figured some Tylenol may help that headache of yours, but consider coming downstairs for some food before you take it. It’s been quite a while since you put anything into your stomach. I’m just downstairs if you need anything.- Alex

  Well, if she had been kidnapped, these were the nicest kidnappers on the planet. She glanced at the Tylenol but figured Alex had a point, she needed to eat first. The sun was sitting low in the sky outside the window by the bed.

  Wondering what time it was, she sl
owly stood up. Afraid her shaky legs wouldn’t hold her, she stood still for a moment, before walking around the bed to the bathroom. Her duffle bag and purse sat on the counter. She reached in and found her phone, noting that she had no cell signal, before reading the time — five forty-five in the evening.

  She literally spent the entire day in a stranger’s bed. And she had no way of calling anyone — police or other — if she did end up in trouble. Great. She tossed the phone back into her bag.

  Shaking her head, she thought about her options. She was stuck in a stranger’s house, with no cell signal, and the only person who knew she was gone was her roommate. Who was probably out partying. With a deep breath, she decided a shower was a good first step. She looked like hell. Her usually tame wavy red hair looked like some animal decided to make a nest out of it while she slept, and her pale skin looked even paler than usual.

  But she would definitely search the bathroom for anything weird before she took her clothes off.

  The hot water felt amazing against her tired body, the steam helping to further clear the fog in her brain. Dressed in jeans and a fresh shirt, Abby peeked her head out the bedroom door.

  There was a short hallway outside, one door at the end of it and one across from hers. She could faintly hear voices coming up from the stairs to her right. She bit her lip, trying to decide if she really needed food, when her stomach growled loud enough for her to hear it. With a sigh, she left the bedroom and headed for the stairs. A simple wooden staircase lead into a large and open main floor. The kitchen sat on one side of the room, painted in whites and light blues. It shone brightly next to the light wood of the rest of the house. Just past the large kitchen island was a sitting room sectioned off with large couches and a few recliners. A large fireplace on one wall, that was framed by large windows, took up the majority of the space.

  And wow, talk about a view. They must have gone up in elevation since Wesley brought her there, because the small valley that sat below the windows was at least a few hundred feet below. The tops of pine trees reached the top of the windows. Close enough that you could probably touch them if you took the glass away.She noticed another small hallway to the right once she rounded the staircase; one door directly to the left and another at the end.

  Alex’s voice broke her out of her peruse of the house, “Come on over, Abigail. I’m making some stew. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

  Abby headed towards the kitchen where Alex stood at the island, cutting up vegetables and potatoes. Wesley sat on the far end of the island, a mug between his hands. He didn’t look up when she approached or as the bar stool screeched on the floor as she pulled it out to sit.

  “You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I can find something to eat in town.” She glanced at Wesley at the other end of the island, but he still hadn’t looked in her direction. It bothered her that he hadn’t so much as nodded his head in greeting. Looking away from him, she crunched her nose at her own thoughts. Why was she letting a stranger annoy her? He had ever right not to look at her.

  Alex waved off her words, “The only good place to eat in that little ol’ town is a family restaurant and they close early on Saturdays. By the time you made it back down there, you’d probably be stuck with eating cereal from the grocery store.” A chuckle had escaped his lips as he spoke about the grocery store, making Abby wonder what was funny. She almost asked for the story that was clearly there, but then the messy kitchen counter caught her attention.

  Scraps of carrots, cabbage, celery, and she was pretty sure butternut squash, sat to one side of the large butcher’s block on the island. She also saw a rather large chunk of meat sitting in the sink behind Alex, which had probably been thawing most of the day. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Abby gave Alex a slight shrug, “Oh that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I won’t starve.” Not to mention she wasn’t about to eat meat.

  Alex stopped whatever he had been doing by the stove and turned back to her. “You aren’t a bother, Abigail, I promise.” He wiped his hand off with a towel and walked over to the island, placing a mug of what smelled like apple cider in front of her.

  “You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you?”

  Abby startled at Wesley’s voice, coming out of nowhere. Looking to her left, his eyes were trained on her. It took her a moment to find her voice, nodding slowly she said, “Yes, I am…How did you know?”

  He turned his face away, looking back at the mug between his hands, “Lucky guess.”

  “Oh, if that was all!” Alex said as he tossed his hands into the air. “Why didn’t you say that? I’ll put a separate pot on the stove. No meat for you.” He winked at her before he turned back to a sink full of potatoes, not bothered by having to make two meals instead of one.

  She wasn’t used to people being so respectful about her choice in diet. Growing up, her foster families always made such a big deal about it – would always be annoyed when they had to make a separate meal for the little girl who refused to eat meat. And yet Alex had almost laughed it off, simply putting a smaller pot on the stove next to the big one and loading it up with more veggies than she had probably eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

  As Alex went back to working on dinner, Abby looked back down the expanse of marble at Wesley. His eyes were trained on his mug again, his thumb running back and forth against the handle. Abby couldn’t help but to take the opportunity to study him while no one was looking.

  With his head bent down, his shaggy brown hair hung over his forehead, just reaching his downcast eyes. The tight red fabric of his shirt hugged his shoulders and arms, showing off the rather impressive amount of muscle he had over his slim figure. He wasn’t overly muscular, like some guys Abby would see at the University gym. But he had enough to make his almost skinny frame look less scrawny and more sturdy.

  Even though she couldn’t see Wesley’s eyes from that angle, she could picture them plain as day in her mind. She had never seen such crystal blue eyes before. Except maybe in those high fashion magazines her roommate would leave lying around the apartment. They seemed so unnatural against his dark hair and tanned skin. Such striking eyes should be unnerving and yet all she wanted was to look at them again.

  And then she was looking, again. He had caught her staring. She looked back at the mug between her own hands, could feel the blush rising in her cheeks at being caught gawking. Abby shook her head a bit but didn’t dare look if Wesley was still watching her. Instead, she turned her attention back to watching Alex as he walked from one end of the kitchen to the other, grabbing a spice here and a spoon there. He wore a small smile on his face the whole time, giving Abby the distinct impression that the man liked to cook. She couldn’t remember ever seeing someone smiling to themselves as they chopped up spinach.

  In the silence of the kitchen, Abby thought back to all of the times growing up, sitting in different kitchens doing her homework while someone cooked. But none of those memories had ever felt so calming. The silence was now more comforting than deafening. She had grown to like silence, lived with it every day of her childhood. But it had always felt lonely and cold. This felt different.

  She gave herself a good mental shake. She never let herself reminisce about the past, it would only bring up bad feelings. Needing to break the silence, break away from the memories threatening her conscious, she said, “Why did you call me a witch?”

  Someone could’ve dropped a pin upstairs in the guest room and they all probably would’ve heard it. Alex stopped stirring the pots for a moment, before he started up again like he had never stopped. She glanced over at Wesley, but he had frozen like he had stepped on a land mine, his clear eyes staring at her.

  Alex recovered first. Setting his large wooden spoon aside and turning the temperature on the stove down, he turned to look at her. His face hadn’t completely lost its friendly appeal, but his eyes looked guarded. “Well, someone was awake before we realized.” His eyes twinkled briefly as he added, “I know someone else who has al
ways been good at eavesdropping.”

  She leaned away from the island, folding her arms over her chest. “It’s not eavesdropping when the people are talking right beside you.” She had spent most of her life being talked down to and she wasn’t about to let some stranger, no matter how nice he seemed, treat her like a kid.

  He sighed, standing in front of her at the island and resting his hands on the surface. She wasn’t sure if he did it to make himself look more relaxed or not, but for the first time that evening Abby was happy to have the island between them. She hadn’t noticed before how big of a guy Alex was. Not gigantic by any means, just big. His hands would dwarf hers, and the muscles flexing on his arms as he leaned against the counter said that they could crush her without breaking a sweat.

  “What do you know about witches, Abigail?” He looked at her intently, no smile left on his face.

  She raised her eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right?”

  He just continued to stare at her. When it became obvious he was waiting for her to answer, she sighed. “They aren’t real. They’re myths or old folk tales, legends.” She thought back to some of the books she had read as a kid, books her foster parents had always hated. “People sometimes call themselves witches or Wiccan, but it’s a religion or way of thought, not like in books or movies. Real witches don’t exist.” She knew a fair bit about witches and other folklore. It had been one of things she had spent all her alone time reading about. She knew more about mystical legends than she did about her high school math courses, that’s for sure.

  “Except they are real, just rare.”

  Every time Wesley would pipe in, it would send a little jolt of electricity down her spine. His tenor voice was both soft and disarming, sending her heart into a flutter every time. She needed to get a hold of herself. No stranger had ever affected her in such a way before. Trying to hide the way her heart skipped a beat, she looked over at him, her eyes rolling. “What do you mean they’re real? That’s impossible. They’re just stories told to kids.” And yet even as she said it, she could feel something inside her stir, like it was trying to tell her something.