WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1)

by Victoria Danann

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’m just going to stay here and watch your heart-shaped ass sway back and forth all the way to the top.”

  “Come on.” She smirked. “The view of my ass is better up close.”

  Jesus. I liked this girl.

  “Well, alright then,” I said as if it would be a chore to walk to the top of the hill with her.

  Thirty minutes and one water bottle later, I was enjoying a very fine view of the surrounding Hill Country.

  When she pointed, I followed her line of sight. “We own all the land from there to there.”

  “What do you do with it?”

  “We don’t do anything with it. That’s the point. Well, except for a few goats. They take care of themselves. Pretty much. I guess you could call it a wildlife preserve. No hunting except in cases of necessity.”

  “What would be a case of necessity?”

  “Sometimes the deer population will get too big. When that happens it threatens the survival of all of them. A few have to be thinned out so that the rest can thrive.”

  “Oh.”

  “Every now and then we get a mountain lion straying up from Big Bend.” That had me kind of looking over my shoulder. She laughed. “Don’t worry, Will. You’re making far too much noise to be of interest to a big cat.”

  “Well, that’s comforting. Wish we’d brought two waters.”

  “Race you back down.”

  It took thirty minutes to climb up and five minutes to run down. I made it to the ice chest first and felt like thumping my chest. Me man. Stronger. Faster. But I was gentlemanly enough to toss her a water before taking one for myself.

  “This is probably a silly question, but are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Did you see how many steps I just climbed? Yes. Of course I’m hungry!”

  She giggled. Looking at her smartwatch she said, “The best taco truck in Texas stops by the river right about now, just a little ways from here. Sound good?”

  “Taco truck? I don’t know.”

  “Trust me. They’re clean as the Four Seasons.”

  “Well, with a vouch like that…”

  “Let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were sitting on a picnic bench under an ancient cypress tree scarfing down what could possibly be the best tacos in the world.

  “Ah. This food is good! I mean it’s goooooood.” She hummed agreement around her own bite of spicy yumminess. “Will it embarrass you if I go back for more?”

  She snorted. “No. Why would it?”

  I took a sip of IBC root beer out of an ice cold longneck bottle. “Where does the money come from?”

  “Oh. Well, there wasn’t a lot until the early nineteen hundreds. You know we’re kind of a haven for witches. They began coming from all over. One of them had a gift for the stock market. Even managed to pull out ahead of the crash and then buy back in. I’m not one of the treasurers, but I’m told that, once you get something like that established, it takes on a life of its own. Starts producing money like bamboo spreads.

  “And since we live in a cooperative, everybody shares. There’s plenty to go around. So we each use our own talents to the best advantage of the community.” She shrugged. “It works out.”

  “By all appearances, it certainly does. So what’s your special talent?”

  She grinned. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “No, no, silly. There’s no reason to be scared. I have a gift for astral projection.”

  “Wow.”

  “You know what it is?”

  “I do.”

  “Yeah. Cool, huh?”

  “I don’t know. How do you use it?”

  “Well, if we need to know what’s going on somewhere in the world, I can find out without being seen or heard. Nobody ever knows I was there.”

  Tacos all but forgotten, I studied her to see if she really believed what she was saying. “So you’re a fly on the wall.”

  “I guess you could say that. Although that doesn’t sound as glamorous as invisible spy.”

  “Can I get a demonstration?”

  “You doubt me, Will?”

  “Come on. Make me a believer. Just a little one.”

  “Okay. Make a proposal.”

  “Tell me what my mother is doing right now.”

  “We have to go home. I can’t do it out in the open because I, you know, I have to leave my body.” She whispered that last part. “It’s not that I doubt that you’d watch over me, but it’s easier to be safe in my safe room at home.”

  “You have a safe room?”

  “We have a safe room.”

  “I keep forgetting. Just give me a few days to adjust to thinking of everything that’s yours as being ours.”

  “No problem.”

  “So let’s go.”

  She looked at my uneaten tacos. “You were talking about getting more tacos. You haven’t even finished those. Are you upset?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just eager. Maybe a little excited.”

  “You sure? Your mother will still be there if you enjoy your tacos first.”

  Standing up, I said, “This experiment is even more fun than tacos.” Then I grabbed one of the untouched tacos and started eating it as I was walking back to the Jeep.

  “Okay.” She shook her head, but got up, gathered the garbage, threw it in the receptacle and met me at the Jeep.

  I swung into the passenger side, still holding my IBC, and gave her an encouraging smile.

  Yes. I lied.

  I wasn’t excited.

  I was nervous.

  Part of me wanted to find out she was the real deal. Part of me was terrified to find out she was the real deal. And part of me was worried she might be an ordinary everyday heiress with delusions of supernatural powers. Best to find out before the ceremony.

  “When’s your birthday?” I asked to pass the time.

  “October fourteenth.”

  “I just missed it. How old were you?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “What did you do to celebrate?”

  “Danced naked in the moonlight.” When I looked to see if she was serious, she laughed. “Just kidding. We gave up cavorting with the devil centuries ago when we figured out there wasn’t any devil to cavort with.” It was my turn to snort. “Went to Sixth Street in Austin with friends. Listened to music. Got half plastered.

  “I know when your birthday is.”

  I smiled. “Oh yeah?”

  “December thirteenth. It adds up to my lucky number, seven.”

  “How do you figure that December thirteenth adds up to seven?”

  “If somebody asks for the month and day of your birth, what do you say?”

  “Twelve thirteen.”

  “So picture that number in your mind like you would write it down. One, two, slash, one, three. You add up the numbers. One plus two plus one plus three equals seven.”

  The smirk just couldn’t be helped. “You’re a superstitious witch, aren’t you?”

  She laughed. “So what do you want for your birthday?”

  “You naked popping out of a cake in our bedroom.”

  Her eyes slid sideways to take me in. “I hope that’s always your answer, Will.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The safe room was pretty impressive. State of the art. It was equipped to defend against just about anything from tornadoes to body snatchers. That last part addressed Rave’s fear about astral projection, that someone could hurt her while her spirit was away from her body. I think we were probably more secure in that room than we would have been if we accidentally got locked inside Fort Knox. One thing was for sure. She took this stuff seriously.

  There was a big overstuffed chair in there along with shelves of candles and curios. I sat on a cushion on the floor with my back to the wall while she sat on the chair.

  “I’m going to need some clues as to where to look for your mother, Will. Give me an addre
ss. Tell me what the house looks like and what she looks like.”

  “I haven’t seen her for a couple of years. So she might have changed her hair. Women do that. But she used to wear it cut to about here.” I made a motion just above my shoulder. “It’s dark brown like mine. At least it was the last time I saw her. She’s average height and weight. Mid-fifties and she hasn’t had any work done, that I know of. 47 Fig Avenue in Fairhope. It’s Sunday afternoon. So she’s probably home.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “Be right back. There’s only one rule. Don’t touch me while I’m gone.”

  “What would happen?”

  “I might lose the connection. And not get back.”

  For some reason that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and I was sorry I’d asked her to do something dangerous for such a frivolous reason.

  “Wait!” I practically yelled. “It’s not worth it. I didn’t know there was a possibility of… that.”

  “Don’t worry, Will. As long as you don’t touch me, everything will be fine. See you in a few.”

  At that she was gone. How did I know she was gone? Because all the light went out of her body. She didn’t exactly look gray and she didn’t exactly look dead, but she definitely didn’t look like anybody was home. The glow that shone from her was missing. Her arms rested on the plush furniture. Her head had dropped so that her chin was against her chest.

  It seemed that I could rule out delusion. I wasn’t sure that I could name what was happening, but it was something. There was nothing to do but slump back against the wall and wait.

  About five minutes later I heard a whoosh sound. Ravish took in a deep breath, raised her head, and the light came back into her body. Then she laughed out loud.

  “Your mother is a hoot, Will. She’s giving some handsome guy, who I’m guessing is your dad, what for about flowers. She wants them to stay where they are. He wants to move them somewhere because they draw bees and the bees are a nuisance.”

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “Will I get reception in here?”

  “Of course. It wouldn’t be a safe room if you couldn’t call out.”

  I thumbed my mother’s phone number and put it on speaker.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Mom?”

  “Will! Great heavenly days, I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice.” Her excitement quickly switched to concern. “Is everything alright?”

  “Everything’s good, Mom. More than good. I need to ask you something and it’s real important. I know this is a strange question, but I need you to tell me what you’re doing right now, this very minute.”

  “Well, if you must know, I’m having a knockdown, drag out argument with your father. He’s moving my peonies to the back fence because he doesn’t like the bees. Ridiculous! Mark Twain said that if there are no bees there is no food and that’s the end of us all.”

  “Are you sure that was Mark Twain?”

  “No, but I don’t have time to look it up. I’m trying to save my peonies from your lunatic of a father.”

  I was watching Rave’s eyes glitter above her smug expression the entire time my mother was talking.

  “Mom. I love you. Guess what? I have a girlfriend.”

  “No. That’s not possible.”

  “Yeah. Live in and everything.”

  “You have to bring her home! What’s she like? Can she cook?”

  “She’s a marvel in so many ways. Oh, and hey. I’m moving to Wimberley, Texas.”

  “What? What happened to acting?”

  “Going back to school.”

  “Best news I’ve heard in forever.”

  “I have to go, but I’ll text you the address.”

  “Don’t forget.”

  “No. I won’t. Bye.”

  “Wait. What’s her name?”

  “Rave.”

  “Rave. Short for Raven. Lovely. Talk soon.”

  I set the phone down. “So you’re the real deal.”

  She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “And I’m your live-in girlfriend?”

  “What should I have told my mother? That I’m under contract for a year?”

  “Good point. Live-in girlfriend is close enough.”

  She rose from the chair and stretched her body out, something I could watch again and again without getting tired of it.

  “I spent my whole life hoping for proof that the supernatural is real. And here you are.”

  “Here I am. Rock you like a hurricane.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t ask me what kind of music I like. And considering how much you like music, I find that odd.”

  “You’re right. That’s probably the first question I should have asked. So what’s the answer?”

  “I like most American music. Not a huge fan of country. I like bands more than karaoke-style pop singers. I guess I’m a rock chick at heart.”

  “The era is passing.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “But that’s what recorded music is for, right? And there’s some surprisingly good new music even if it’s harder to find than it used to be.”

  “Damn Spotify and find-the-singer shows.”

  “Hear. Hear.”

  “Have you heard Alabama Shakes?”

  “No, but I like the name.” I smiled.

  “Let’s get out of here. I’m getting claustrophobic.”

  She punched in the code and the door opened with a hiss.

  “Is that the house you grew up in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice. Homey.”

  “Well, we could tear this thing down. Build two thousand square feet of nice hominess.”

  “Would you like that?”

  “No, Rave. I’m teasing. Your house is the second best part of this arrangement.”

  “I’m thirsty. I always come back thirsty.”

  “That can be fixed.”

  We got wine coolers and decided to settle in the study. I walked around looking at the books on the shelves while she watched and sipped her drink.

  “Tell me about some of the other special talents. So far I know about predicting stock market trends and astral projection.”

  “After tonight.”

  “Why after tonight?”

  “Before you learn any more incriminating stuff, I need to know you’re committed. To me. To our secrets.”

  “For a year.”

  As soon as I saw the look on her face, I felt a pang of regret for restating the condition, but I needed to make it crystal clear up front. I was committing to a year. No more.

  “Yes. For a year,” she repeated.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Harmony arrived at Rave’s, I mean… our house, a few minutes before I was to leave for the boys-only dinner because it was at Raider’s house. Supposedly no witches allowed. Rave told me to take the Spyder and gave directions how to get there. Turn left from the drive, circle around the hill, take the second left and climb until I could see redwood timber and stone.

  Raider’s house couldn’t have been more different from the two houses I’d been in so far. It looked like a northwest pacific lodge with an A-roofline in the center where the front door was prominent and wings jutting out on either side. My first thought was that it suited Raider perfectly.

  I followed the circular drive and pulled up to the front where I could see two valet parkers waiting.

  “Good evening, Mr. Draiocht.”

  I was sure I’d never get used to being called by name by strangers, much less being called ‘Mr. Draiocht’.

  “Hey. This is the place, huh?”

  “You’re in the right place, sir. We’ll take good care of your car.”

  Leaving the key in the ignition, I said, “Thank you,” got out and walked to the door.

  Someone who appeared to be staff opened the door as I approached.

  “Good evening, Mr. Draiocht. Follow this hallway to the end and take a right. Everyone is outside. You’ll hear the music.”

&n
bsp; “Thank you,” I said, thinking ‘follow the yellow brick road’.

  By the time I was halfway down the hall I could hear the thump of metal bass. The terrace was covered with terrazzo stone in a pinkish reddish color that matched the feel of the house. And it was immense. I suspected there were fifty guys there, but it would have accommodated two hundred.

  There were three very long tables set for dinner, arranged parallel to each other and perpendicular to the head table. Off to the side, at the very edge of the terrace were two huge built-in grills that formed the center part of a luxurious outdoor kitchen. Two guys in chef gear were grilling steaks. There’s no way to adequately convey the aroma, but if you’ve ever been in the vicinity of steaks being grilled to perfection out of doors, you know what I’m talking about.

  I heard Kellan’s voice before I saw him. “Man of the hour!”

  Everybody stopped and turned to raise their drinks to me. I raised my chin and smiled, a little embarrassed to be the center of attention. Strange reaction for a would-be actor, right?

  Raider came over and slapped me on the shoulder almost hard enough to knock me over. “How you doin’, hero?”

  I suspected that would always get a smile out of me. “I was pretty good before you tried to start a fight.”

  He guffawed at that. “Willem, you’re one of a kind.”

  “Call me Will.”

  “Will it is then.” Kellan strolled up. “You’ve met Kellan.”

  “I have.” Kellan and I were shaking hands in greeting when a waiter showed up by my side to ask about a drink. After a double take, I said, “Roque! Roque Quintanilla!”

  The man looked both proud and pleased that I remembered him. “Yes, Mr. Draiocht. What will it be my pleasure to bring you? Margarita? On the rocks, no salt, Jose Reposado?”

  I laughed. “You have an incredible memory.”

  “As do you, sir.”

  “Hmmm. Well, tonight I’ve got the nerves of a virgin groom. I’m going with whiskey neat.”

  “Very good, sir. We have…”

  I held up my hand. “I trust you, Roque. Bring me what you think I’d like.”

  After a smile and a head nod, he disappeared.

  “Nerves of a virgin groom,” Raider repeated with a belly laugh. “I suspect whiskey will help out with that.”