The Trouble With Witches

by Kristen Painter

  Chapter Four

  Em knew how to lie. Her mother had taught her. The lesson wasn’t one Em had wanted or asked for, it was one she’d picked up through a life lived with a woman who painted in broad strokes and used those around her for everything she could by whatever means necessary. For Manda Greer, to breathe was to lie.

  Em wasn’t about to craft some tale that would make her aunt pity her. This was about a fresh start. One built on the truth.

  But the woman before Em was incredibly wealthy, surprisingly beautiful, and had an air of power about her that Em hadn’t expected. Was it any wonder Em was a little scared to tell her the truth?

  There was no point in holding it back, though. Not if Aunt Amelia was really as powerful as she seemed to be.

  And not if being here meant Em had the opportunity to see what that power was like for herself. A witch? Was that really possible? It seemed like it was. Especially if Aunt Amelia was supposed to be her great-aunt but looked young enough to be an older sister. If that wasn’t witchcraft, some cosmetics company should figure out the secret and bottle it.

  But then, Em had been conned before by flesh and blood.

  She took a breath. “I’m here because I have nowhere else to go. That makes me sound like a charity case, I know, but it’s where I’m at right now.” How pathetic she must seem to a woman of means like Amelia. “I was hoping that maybe…”

  Her words stuck in her gullet. It wasn’t pride holding them there, but fear of rejection. She cleared her throat. “I was hoping I could get a fresh start here. That you might let me stay. Not forever. Just until I get my feet under me again. I won’t be in the way. You won’t even know I’m here. I swear it. And I realize that’s a big ask from someone you’ve just met, but you’re all I’ve got.”

  Amelia stared at her rather impassively. The jewels in her turban glittered, reflecting the firelight. Then something flickered in her gaze. Something that might have been consternation. Or disappointment. Or regret.

  Whatever her aunt’s emotions, Em understood perfectly that Aunt Amelia didn’t want her here. Her heart sank as she dropped her head and let out a small sigh without meaning to. She could tell her aunt the truth, that Manda was in jail. But that felt manipulative, and honestly, Em was tired of people knowing about her mother’s situation and judging Em as being cut from the same cloth.

  That left only one more question. Where was she going to go?

  “Three days.”

  At her aunt’s words, Em looked up again, hope suddenly big and bright inside her. “You mean I can stay?”

  Amelia nodded.

  Em sucked in a breath. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  She wanted to beg for a week, but knew better. Besides, she would find a way to charm her aunt into more time. At least she’d try her very hardest. Maybe she could make herself indispensable in some way. “I won’t be a problem. I’m quiet, and I don’t eat much and—”

  “My house. My rules. Do we have an understanding?” Her aunt’s aloof demeanor remained for a few seconds more.

  “We do. Totally.”

  At last Aunt Amelia’s expression softened. “I’ll have someone show you around town tomorrow. You’ll see why this is no place for you. Why I’m doing you a favor by getting you out of here before—” She closed her mouth quickly, the unfinished sentence hanging there between them.

  Em was dying to ask, Before what? But she didn’t want to jeopardize the good news she’d just been given, so she tucked that question away for a safer time.

  Amelia pushed to her feet. “It’s very late. I need to go to bed. I’ll have Beckett show you to a room.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Amelia. I appreciate it so much.”

  Movement caught Em’s eye. Beckett was already at the door of the sitting room. How had he suddenly arrived without making a sound? He nodded at Aunt Amelia as she went by. “Good evening.”

  “Beckett,” was all her aunt said as she left. How odd that Aunt Amelia would employ a man she seemed not to care for.

  More questions. So. Many. Questions.

  He glanced at Em now. “Are you ready to go up?”

  Em stood, smiling a little nervously at the majordomo. “I have to go to my car and get my things.”

  “I’m happy to help you.”

  She was about to decline his offer, then realized she would be giving up valuable question-asking time. “Thank you. That would be great.”

  As in a great chance to find out more about this place and Aunt Amelia.

  * * *

  Amelia went up to her bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it, exhaling the sob she’d been holding on to. Her hands went to her heart, her chest aching with emotions she hadn’t felt in years.

  Not since Pasqual had left anyway.

  Family. Her flesh and blood. In her home. How cruel life was to give her such a precious gift she couldn’t keep. It was almost more than Amelia could take. She’d barely restrained herself from grabbing the girl and pulling her into her arms just to feel the embrace of another human being.

  When Emeranth had taken her hand to inspect it for burns, the rush of emotion she’d felt had been almost unbearable. Amelia had almost wept right then.

  She tipped her head back. She hadn’t felt this torn since Pasqual. She desperately wanted Em to stay. To live here, in this enormous, empty house. To fill this space with youth and laughter and beauty and life. Amelia craved the company, the conversation, the chance to mean something to someone once again.

  But that would all vanish once Emeranth understood what staying here would mean. No, the burden that came with having Marchand blood in Shadowvale was too great.

  Amelia had known her niece for only mere moments, but already she loved the child too much to lay that weight upon her.

  For her own good, Emeranth would have to go. Three days should be safe enough. No more, though. Any longer and this place would get its hooks in her. Then there’d be no leaving. Ever.

  She couldn’t do that to Emeranth. But she also couldn’t leave the girl uninitiated. That Manda had done that infuriated Amelia. No witch deserved to be left unattached from her powers.

  Amelia would fix that. Then she would send Em on her way. At least with her power unleashed, she’d have a better chance at making her way in the world.

  Amelia pushed away from the door and went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. The icy water felt good, but it didn’t dissipate her anger at Em’s mother.

  Was keeping Em from her powers some way of getting back at Amelia? It couldn’t be. That was far too self-centered a thought on Amelia’s part. More likely, it was just Manda’s way of keeping Em attached to her.

  Because there was no doubt in Amelia’s mind that Em was the more powerful witch of the two. No doubt. And not just because the power had mostly skipped Manda. Amelia had seen the magic dancing and sparking around Emeranth like the fireflies that speckled the Shadowvale horizon at night.

  Visible magic like that happened for only a few reasons—because a witch was very powerful, very upset, or the magic was suppressed.

  In Emeranth’s case, Amelia guessed it might be all three. Especially if the poor child really was homeless. That would distress anyone.

  Amelia leaned on the bathroom’s marble counter and stared at herself in the mirror. What kind of woman turned away one of her very few remaining relatives at a time of need?

  She frowned. A woman who very much wanted to keep that relative from sharing her same fate.

  Amelia left the bathroom and walked to the windows that overlooked the rear garden. Somewhere out there in the dark, Thoreau prowled. She’d have rather had him curled up on the bed beside her, but that hadn’t been possible since he was very young. And much smaller.

  Besides, if he wanted to be in the house, he’d be in the house.

  She pulled off her turban and ran her hands through her hair. Enough wallowing. Time for bed.

  Tomorrow would bring its own
troubles. No point in bringing the ones from the past into it.

  She climbed into bed, stared at the ceiling, and did something she hadn’t done in a very long time—thought about a man who wasn’t Pasqual.

  The man on her mind was Deacon Evermore. He had to come through for her. Had to show Em what a terrible place Shadowvale was for her. How gray and depressing and soul-sucking it was.

  Because if he didn’t, Amelia might have to tell her niece the truth.

  And if that happened, Deacon certainly wasn’t getting a ticket out of here.

  Chapter Five

  Em and Beckett walked together through the house out to her car. She would have loved to ogle the place some more, but now that she’d secured a few days here, there’d be time for that later.

  Instead, she glanced at the curious man beside her. He really didn’t seem like the butler type, which was what she figured a majordomo must be. So what was he doing here?

  He caught her looking at him. “Something on your mind, Miss Em?”

  Beyond him? Fortunately, there was. “I was wondering if you want me to move my car after I get my stuff out of it. I’m kind of right there in the driveway. Probably blocking my aunt if she has to go anywhere.”

  “That would be highly unlikely—your aunt going anywhere—but we should still park it in the garage. I can handle that for you. If you trust me to drive your vehicle.”

  “Considering it wouldn’t be most people’s last choice for a joy ride, I don’t think you’re likely to do it any damage.” She laughed. “I’ll hand over the keys after I unlock it.”

  “Very good, Miss Em.”

  She went back to studying him as best she could without being blatant about it. The idea that there was something a little foreboding about him had been her first impression when he’d opened the door, and it was still her impression of him. In fact, he seemed almost dangerous. Or like he could be, if the need arose.

  It was as if a darkness surrounded him, waiting to strike at his command. But, really, who commanded darkness?

  That seemed like such a silly thing to even contemplate, but then, she’d just found out her aunt—and probably Em herself—was a witch. What else was possible if that was real?

  Whatever or whoever Beckett was, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy she’d want to get on the bad side of. Like, ever.

  But maybe that was exactly why Aunt Amelia had hired him. For protection. And to make the kind of first impression that caused people to think twice. She did live in this big house by herself, after all. “Do you like working for my aunt?”

  His smile was kind but a little thin. “Our relationship is a complicated one. But yes, for the most part, my life here is good. I enjoy your aunt’s company. Although I’m not sure she’d say the same about me.”

  That wasn’t exactly a rousing endorsement, but it wasn’t a condemnation either. It pretty much confirmed what Em had picked up on earlier. Aunt Amelia wasn’t that keen on Beckett. So odd. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Close to fifty years.”

  “Wow.” Em almost stumbled. For one thing, that was a long time to employ someone you didn’t like. For another, he didn’t look old enough to have worked here that long. He must have started very young. But then, Aunt Amelia didn’t look her age either.

  His smile broadened. “I’m older than I look. A common trait for many of us here in Shadowvale.”

  His answers were only giving her more questions. “Why is that?”

  He went pensive for a moment as they went out the front doors. Maybe deciding what to tell her. Or how much to tell her. At last, he spoke. “This town was built over magical meridian lines. The lines are old and a little fragile, however, and they tend to leak magic into everything around us. A lot of people say that’s why we age so slowly.”

  Then he laughed. “Of course, some of us have enough of our own magic to keep age from creeping up on us too quickly.”

  Meridian lines? She had no clue what he was talking about. “Are you one of those people? Do you have enough of your own magic?”

  His eyes seemed to darken, but they were outside, and there wasn’t much light beyond the landscaping, so it was hard to tell for sure. “I have enough, yes.”

  He turned abruptly as they reached the car. “How many bags do you have?”

  Ready to change the subject, apparently. “A big suitcase and another smaller bag, plus my purse. I have a bunch of other stuff in a couple totes, but they don’t need to come in tonight.”

  He glanced at the car’s interior, then at her, brows lifted. “You plan on staying longer than three days, don’t you?”

  She weighed all possible answers, choosing the truth very quickly. “I really hope to, yes.”

  He laughed softly and nodded. “Good. If I can help, I will.”

  That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. “You will?”

  “Of course. Your aunt has been alone too long. Your presence will be very good for her. I can see it already. And not just because of the company, but because you’re family.”

  A wave of relief swept Em. With Beckett suddenly on her side, she felt herself warm to him considerably. Like they were allies. Even if there was something a little foreboding about him. “I would like that very much.”

  His amusement disappeared. “You need to know that this is not an easy place to live, however.”

  “Indigo House or Shadowvale?”

  “Shadowvale.”

  “Aunt Amelia said the same thing, but she didn’t explain it. What do you mean? What’s so hard about life in Shadowvale?”

  He glanced toward the house before answering her. “It’s not my place to tell you. If you’re meant to know, it’ll be explained. But not by me. Your aunt has reason enough to dislike me. I’m not giving her another.”

  “Why did she hire you if she doesn’t like you?”

  “She didn’t—” He shook his head. “You ask a lot of questions. Questions I shouldn’t answer. How about we get your things inside and you let your aunt do some more talking in the morning?”

  She frowned at him as she unlocked the car. “You’re an odd man, Beckett.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” He opened the back door and pulled her big suitcase out like it was filled with feathers and not packed with everything she owned.

  She was impressed, but not enough to get distracted. “By who? My aunt?”

  He snorted. “Yes. And that’s the last question I’m answering this evening.”

  She smirked as she got her purse out of the front seat. “Beckett, I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

  He straightened with a sudden look of surprise. “I would like that very much.”

  “Me, too.” She took a few more things off the back seat, such as the book she’d been reading and a bag with some snacks from the last gas station she’d stopped at. Snacks that were going to be her dinner, actually. “Okay, got everything I need. How about I just leave the keys on the front seat?”

  “Perfect. I’ll come out and move it later.” He had the handle of her big suitcase in one hand and a firm grip on her small carry-on bag with the other. “Let’s get you to a room and settled, then.”

  She dropped the keys on the driver’s seat and closed the door. “Great. I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight.”

  She just barely caught the odd expression that zipped across his face, but it morphed into an awkward smile too quickly for her to figure out what he’d reacted to.

  He started walking, carrying her bags with little effort. “Would you like a drink or something to take up with you?”

  She lifted the white plastic gas station bag. “Nope, I’m good. Still have some snacks left over, including a bottle of water.”

  “Snacks?”

  “A candy bar, some chips, and a package of cookies.”

  He side-eyed the bag. “Those don’t sound very…nutritious.”

  She laughed as they went into the house. “Yeah, w
ell, it’s hard to be nutritious on a budget.”

  “I’m sure it is. If you want something else, feel free to rummage about in the kitchen. I’m sure your aunt wouldn’t want you going hungry. Chef usually makes breakfast around eight.”

  “Chef?”

  “Yes. Your aunt has a chef. Vivian is a very nice woman and well trained. French cuisine is her specialty, but she can make just about anything.”

  They went down a long hall and came to an elevator. He put the carry-on bag down and pressed the button.

  “That’s something.” She shook her head. “This house has you, a chef, and an elevator?”

  “And a team of gardeners, two housekeepers, a handyman, and a pool service. But only myself, Chef, and one housekeeper live here. Oh, and the mechanic, who lives in the apartment over the garage.”

  The elevator doors opened, and they got on.

  “This house isn’t as empty as I thought it was.”

  “Oh, it’s still plenty empty. Your aunt keeps to herself most of the time.” He pressed the button for the second floor, but she noted there were also buttons labeled with an L and a three. “You’ll see.”

  “What’s on the third floor?”

  “Nothing really. Finished storage.”

  The doors opened again, and they got out. A few yards down another hall, they went by one of the balconies that overlooked the rotunda.

  After a couple more yards and a slight turn, Beckett opened a door. “The guest rooms haven’t been used in a long time, but they’re cleaned regularly, so everything should be in good order. If it’s not, just let me know. You can reach me by dialing nine on the house phone.”

  Em walked into the room and gawked at the space. “This is a guest room?”

  “Guest suite, really. The bedroom and bathroom are through this sitting room.”

  A little panic crept up Em’s spine. “This is too much. I just need a place to sleep. I don’t need all this. I don’t want to be any trouble.” Aunt Amelia wouldn’t want her around if she was a bother.

  He smiled. “It’s no trouble. The housekeepers will be glad to have something to actually clean, I would imagine. And there’s no smaller room to put you in, so this will have to do.”