Benji was good. He wasn’t evil, and I’d be damned if I let him think he was.
“It wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been,” he insisted.
“Few things ever are. Besides, that doesn’t matter. What matters is you didn’t give into it. You walked away. You let him and his friends live. That says a lot about you. Your character. Your strength. Who you are deep inside.”
I placed a hand on his heart. His cold hand lifted to cover mine.
“I needed to hear that,” he insisted.
My heart warmed at the crooked grin that formed on his face. I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his. It was a gentle kiss, one that would allow him to pull away if he needed to. He didn’t, but when I felt his lips tremble beneath mine, I knew I’d reached the line. I pulled away and stared into his eyes. His pupils had dilated. After he blinked a few times they returned to normal.
For a drawn out moment, neither of us talked. That was the first kiss we’d shared in weeks without his fangs descending and him having to put a massive amount of space between us until he could control himself again.
Maybe we were finally moving forward.
“Sometimes I worry about myself,” he whispered.
I flinched at his tone. Was he about to admit he had thoughts of inflicting harm on himself or others? Alarm nipped at my insides.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Maybe not myself, more like I worry about my soul.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and his eyes drifted from mine to look at the floor again. I held my breath while I waited for him to continue with his train of thought. “I was raised in church. My momma always made me get up and get my butt to church on Sunday mornin’. I was only allowed to miss if I was on my deathbed is what she always said. Well, I was on my deathbed. I died. What happens now? I mean, I can’t ever go back to church. There was a time when that probably would’ve made me happy, but now...I’m not so sure. It’s strange to think about all the things I won’t ever be able to do now. All the things that have been taken away.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I hadn’t known this internal war he was waging existed.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as the guilt I’d felt since asking for him to be turned—to be saved—passed from my lips.
His eyes snapped to mine. There was a harshness brewing within them that was so intense I was forced to look away.
“Don’t be,” he said. “I mean it. I’m not tellin’ you this to make you feel bad for what happened. I just...I need to tell someone and I want that someone to be you.”
His comment settled in my stomach. It was warm and fuzzy. It had me thinking we would be all right.
“I’m glad you want to talk to me about it,” I said.
“I am too.”
He leaned forward and his lips brushed mine. My eyes closed. My lungs forgot to breathe. I froze. This was the first kiss he’d initiated in a while. Hope for us blossomed through my chest as our lips continued to move against one another’s.
“Breathe, Rid.” He laughed with a deep rumble as he pulled away. Once I inhaled, he leaned in again. “There you go.”
His lips pressed against mine in a featherlight touch. He moved to grip my hips, and I resisted the urge to flinch at the feel of his touch. Good thing, because in one swift movement, I was straddling his lap. My heart hammered. I knew he could hear it. I knew it was most likely torturing him. Still, there was nothing I could do. This was as close as we’d been in forever.
I brushed my lips against his in the slow pace he’d set and enjoyed the feel of his fingertips digging into the flesh of my hips. When they slipped beneath my sweater to touch my skin, a shiver I couldn’t suppress zipped through me and I gasped.
Benji pulled away.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “I know my hands must be cold.”
“It’s—” The words became stuck in my throat as a blinding pain stabbed through my head.
Suddenly, everything was too bright and too loud. Even the pounding of my heart thudding in my ears hurt.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my temples.
“What’s wrong?” Benji asked. His voice was like a sonic boom, blasting me from all directions. “It’s an anchor thing, isn’t it? Another headache?”
I couldn’t answer him. The pain was too severe. Time dragged on while my head continued to split open as I sat in his lap.
And then, just as quickly as the headache came on, it went away.
I dropped my hands to my sides and inhaled deeply, trying to catch my breath. Benji stared at me, his brows pinched together, waiting for me to tell him something. Darkness festered in his eyes, but I knew it had nothing to do with bloodlust or loss of control—he was worried about me.
“I’m okay,” I breathed.
“Nothin’ about that was okay. You looked like you were about to pass out from the pain, Rid.”
“It was just a headache.” I forced a smile hoping it eased his worry. He seemed to have enough on his plate. He didn’t need me adding to it. “I’m fine.”
“Liar. Someone’s knockin’ hardcore, aren’t they?”
I slipped off his lap and paced the room. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not when he was already going through so much.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded.
I stared at him. His eyes begged me to speak—to confide in him the way he had in me minutes ago.
“Someone’s trying to reach me from the other side. They have been for days, and the headaches keep getting worse,” I said, averting my gaze to the floor.
“You can’t ignore them, whoever they are. It’s not like they’re gonna give up and go away.” His voice had more bite than I thought was necessary.
Was he pissed I’d been hiding this from him? Well, he was hiding crap from me too.
“I know that,” I snapped.
“Maybe you should let them in. Open the door,” he said. I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Instead, I went back to pacing the length of his gigantic room. “You don’t have to do what they want. You could just listen to them. That might be enough.”
I doubted it. When was listening ever enough when it came to the other side? Generally, when a spirit reached out to me this hard, it was because they wanted me to do something for them. To find someone or something.
“Or, maybe you could open it and tell them to leave you alone,” he suggested.
“I don’t think they’d listen.” I snorted.
Benji smoothed a hand along his jaw. “Okay, well even if this spirit doesn’t listen to you about wantin’ to be left alone, shouldn’t you still give them a chance to speak? It could be somethin’ important.”
If they were being this forceful, there was no doubt they thought it was important. The question was: Would I?
Probably not.
My gaze shifted to Benji. He was watching me as I paced. How was I supposed to explain to him that letting in whoever was reaching out was the last thing I wanted to do? That I was over being used by my gift. That I wanted to be the one to use it instead.
Another surge of pain pierced through my skull before I could say anything. It nearly brought me to my knees. Benji was at his desk one second and beside me in the next. He pulled me to him and became the only thing holding me upright as the pain washed over me in nauseating waves.
“Damn it, Rid. You can’t keep lettin’ them hurt you like this. You’ve got to take that pendant off and open the door,” he insisted. His words seemed loud enough to rattle my teeth. “You need to see what they want. It must be somethin’ pretty damn important if they’re bein’ this forceful with you.”
The pain subsided, and I was able to catch my breath while he continued to hold me upright.
“I can’t,” I said. “I have no clue who’s waiting on the other side or what they want. I’m sick of being used.” My voice trembled like a nervous little girl as the last words fell from my mouth and I hated myself for it
.
“Still, you can’t go on like this,” Benji said.
He was right. I knew he was, but what else could I do?
Learn gray magic, a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered, and I was thankful for the reminder.
Chapter 4
It had been a Tuesday from hell. I’d woken with a splitting headache that hung around all day. Nothing I did seemed to force it away. Not even my essential oil roll-on or the ginger candies I’d found in the medicine cabinet. The only silver lining was that the pain hadn’t been as severe as the headache at Benji’s last night. It was, however, dull and constant, which was enough to drive me mad.
I needed to figure out what gray magic was and how I could use it to help myself.
The first place I thought to look was Aunt Rowena’s witchy book collection in her room. I stood at her bookshelf, scanning the spines while searching for anything that might relate to gray magic. So far, I’d found nothing.
“What are you doing?” Rose asked from behind me. I jumped at her sudden presence. I’d been so focused on searching for something on gray magic that I hadn’t heard her come up behind me.
I hadn’t even known she was upstairs.
Last I’d seen her, she had been in the living room hogging the TV while doing her homework. She’d either gotten bored, finished her homework, or Aunt Rowena had made her give the TV over to a guest.
“And, why do you look like you’re sneaking around?” she pressed. “You know my mom wouldn’t care if you wanted to look through her books. She loves when any of us show interest in her herbs and stuff.”
I glanced at her while trying to figure out how to explain myself. She leaned against the doorframe with her dark eyes narrowed, staring at me.
“I know,” I said. “And, I wasn’t sneaking. I was trying to be quiet. Mr. Senova’s room is right below this one, and I didn’t want to interrupt his writing time.”
For all I knew, Mr. Senova wasn’t even in his room. He could be pacing the hall of the second floor, stretching his legs. It was as legitimate an excuse as I could come up with off the top of my head though.
“Okay,” Rose said. The glint in her eyes let me know she was suspicious still, but she didn’t press the issue. “Anyway, Mom wanted me to find you. She wants us to get the amber room ready for a new guest. We’re supposed to change the sheets, dust, and wipe down the bathroom.”
“Okay, sure. Let’s go,” I said.
I headed for the door, thinking to myself that there probably wasn’t anything about gray magic in Aunt Rowena’s collection anyway. Octavia had said it wasn’t good or bad, it was somewhere in between, which didn’t seem like something she’d agree with.
Still, I had a desire to ask. My nerves were just getting the best of me.
As Rose and I made our way to the second-floor linen closet, I tried to think of where I could find more information on gray magic. The Mirror Lake Library was out of the question. Even though the town had many secrets involving the supernatural throughout its history, I knew there wouldn’t be a thing about it there. My only hope was to find something online. Not some lame blog that sold guaranteed love spells for twenty bucks a pop either. I needed to find a legit book. Generally speaking, the things you found in books on magic were more real than anything on some random person’s website.
Rose grabbed the cleaning supply caddy, and I pulled out a clean set of sheets when we reached the closet. They were gray and soft, like every other set for the guest rooms. I was glad because sleeping on sheets, even clean ones, a stranger had slept on seemed gross. While I wasn’t a germaphobe, I guess I still had some of their tendencies.
“Are we both cleaning the bathroom?” Rose asked as we made our way to the amber room.
I loved my aunt had let her admiration for crystals and stones seep into the naming of each room here at the inn. It made the place seem more special and unique.
“We can. Sure.”
I hated cleaning bathrooms. They were the worst, mainly because of how much time it took having to scrub everything down. However, I didn’t mind sharing the duty with someone else. It meant half the cleaning for me, which was always nice.
A door down the hall opened, and Mr. Senova stepped out of his room. I noticed he was dressed in a thick wool jacket and had a scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Hi there, girls,” he said. “Decided to stretch my legs outside for a bit and get some fresh air. I was told there is a trail somewhere near the inn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“It’s just behind the inn. There’s a wooden sign marking the start,” I said. My lips twisted into the polite smile I always reserved for guests. I hoped it seemed more genuine than it felt. My headache was still present and smiling was the last thing I felt like doing.
“Oh, good. Thanks. I need to recharge my creative juices and move around so I’m able to get through the long haul tonight.” He grinned. “I emailed my editor to tell her about my progress. She’s thrilled. I must say, I was a little apprehensive about scheduling a writing retreat for myself with my deadline so close. I don’t know what I was so worried about though. This place has been fantastic, and it’s been wonderful for my muse.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. As he put them on, I couldn’t help wonder again if Aunt Rowena had anything to do with his sudden spurt of creativeness. She’d claimed she hadn’t, but I wasn’t convinced. She was always doing little things for the guests to help them it seemed. Another part of her gift.
“What are you writing about?” Rose asked.
I was surprised I hadn’t thought to ask that question yet. Could have been because when Mr. Senova first arrived at the inn he’d seemed stressed and tense. Unapproachable. Asking him anything seemed intimidating. Now that he’d spent a few days here, there was a lightness about him that made him come off as warm and inviting.
It was like he’d done a complete one-eighty.
“Oh, it’s the third book in a young adult fantasy series I’ve been writing for nearly eight months. It was supposed to be the last book in the series, but due to a few twists and turns I didn’t see coming I’ve decided to extend it with two more.” His hands moved around when he talked and his face lit up. It was clear he was passionate about his work.
“Cool,” Rose said. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear.
“Do you like to read?” Mr. Senova asked her.
“Yeah.”
“Do you read fantasy books at all?”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “Depends on what it’s about, I guess.”
That was a no; I could tell. Plus, I knew Rose liked stories that dealt with the paranormal. She wasn’t a fantasy kind of girl, but I didn’t think she understood that fantasy could also mean stories of witches or werewolves.
“Well, I’ll send you a set once this one comes out, and then you can tell me if you like them.” He crammed his gloved hands into the pockets of his coat and rolled his shoulders. “Now, where did you two say the beginning of that trail was?”
“Right behind the inn. There’s a sign,” Rose said. “You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” He headed for the stairs.
“It’s cool he’s an author,” Rose insisted once he was out of view. She swung the cleaning caddy back and forth while we continued to the amber room. “I know he’s not the first to stay here, but I like he’s writing something for young adults. I hope he remembers to send me those books. I’d love to read them. Fantasy isn’t something I usually read, but I can make an exception.”
“You know just because they’re fantasy doesn’t mean they have to be about elves and fairies. They could be about witches or werewolves. More like the paranormal stuff you read,” I said.
“Think so?”
“Yeah. And you know, he could have based someone in his book off you, or even added in a place like the inn into his story.”
“That would be amazing!”
“It would be sort of cool.” I grinned.
“So, he’s not the first author to stay here?”
I’d never given much thought to the guests who stayed here. All I did was try to stay out of their way and make sure their stay was nice so they’d come back. This place was important to Aunt Rowena, to the Caraways, so I helped in any way I could. Getting to know the guests wasn’t part of that for me though.
A young couple I’d noticed checking in late last night greeted us as they headed toward the opal room. They seemed happy enough, but there was tension festering between them I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I was sure whatever it was Aunt Rowena would get to the bottom of it and somehow fix everything for them before they checked out.
It was what she did.
“Nope. Another author stayed here not last year, but the year before. She was famous,” Rose said, pulling my attention back to her. “I didn’t know who she was, but Mom did. She was excited to have her stay with us, but kept pretending she wasn’t fazed.”
“What was her name?”
“I can’t remember, but I do remember how we weren’t supposed to say she was here. She was incognito. A few people in town found out somehow though and tried to visit the inn just to see her. She was nice about it. She even signed paperbacks for them. After that though, she didn’t come out of her room for a few days. Mom took her food and water, other than that she was left alone.”
I swung the door to the amber room open and stepped inside. The scent of vanilla hit my nose, and my muscles relaxed. I loved vanilla everything. “Maybe Mr. Senova is a friend of hers and she told him about her stay here.”
“Maybe, but she was so big that if they were friends, he probably would’ve mentioned it.” Rose closed the door behind us.
While all the rooms at the inn were nice, this room was my favorite. It was one of the more classically decorated ones. Simplistic and beautiful. Gray wallpaper with tiny, delicate white flowers covered the walls. Its windows were draped in white curtains made of lace. And, there wasn’t too much furniture overcrowding the space. Everything about the room was elegant and clean. If I’d been allowed to pick any room in the house to have, this one would have been mine. Instead, I’d been given the drafty room upstairs because Aunt Rowena liked for the guests to be on one floor and her family on another.
Gray Magic Page 4