Raven Ridge (Witches of Sanctuary Book 2) (9 page)

I laugh. “Not if Abby beats you to it.”

Reid smiles and moves over to flop down in Lyric’s vacant seat. That’s when I see it. A person across the street, standing out on the second story balcony. Black hair. A tailored dress shirt. A cherry colored glass in their hand. The figure leans on the banister, watching us. I stand up and move around Reid to the window. As I blink, the image disappears. The man is gone. Vanished into thin air. No door opened. No hidden shadow. No sign of him at all.

“Willa?”

I move down the window. He has to be there. I saw him. I saw Julien on that balcony. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. Reid stands behind me now, brushing his hands across my shoulders. “What is it?”

I touch the glass, pressing my finger against it, smudging the spot where I saw him. I imagined it. The lack of sleep and the stress has finally gotten the best of me. Or maybe it’s the memories I took from Lyric. I thought about them all night as I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. Julien’s emotionless stare as the madness splintered every last piece of the humanity he had left inside of him.

Each breath I take drives Julien deeper into his manic state of self-torture. The thought hurts. Svetta’s right. The Haunted aren’t the only ones who suffer from this curse. We all do. We all feel the pain of their loss. We have to end it.

“How soon can we go see Svetta?”

“I’ll send the request tonight. We should hear back as soon as tomorrow morning.”

Reid moves beside me now, his touch never breaking contact. “What did you see out there?”

My gaze drops to my feet.

Reid’s gaze drops too. “He’s here.”

I shake my head, rubbing my eyes. “I’m not sure. After stealing Lyric’s memories last night, I keep reliving them like they’re my own.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you do that. I didn’t think about what seeing Julien in that condition again would do to you.” He rubs the side of my arm. “We had to make sure he wasn’t using Lyric to get to you.”

“I know.”

“I say we close the shop early today and get you back to Frog Hollow just to be safe.”

I stare out the window at the empty balcony. It didn’t look like a memory, but even Julien can’t disappear like that. “Okay.”

Reid helps Abby get the shop ready to close, but I stare out the window. I watch the rain tip tap against it. Lyric sits back down in the chair behind me. His Ray-Bans are back on and his hood back up. “Where do you think your brother went when he left Charleston?”

Lyric pulls the glasses down to look over them at me. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

I turn around. “Lyric.”

He pulls his glasses all the way off and sets them down on top of the books on the table. “He wants you dead, Wilhelmina. You know that. I know that.”

“Say it.”

Lyric stands up. “Julien screamed it in his sleep. Your name. Nothing but your name. Over and over again. He can’t think of anything else but causing you the same kind of pain he feels ripping him apart every second of every day.”

Lyric reaches out and touches my arm, but a spark ignites at the point of contact. Lyric jerks away, cupping his hand. “Shit. That hurt.”

Reid walks up behind him, grinning. “I warned you. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Lyric rubs his fingertips. Reid grabs the books off the table and throws Lyric’s glasses back at him. “I’m going to drop these back off at the library. I’ll be back in ten minutes. I’m sure you can manage to behave yourself for that long.”

Lyric intentionally reaches over and touches my elbow, testing if the shock was a one-time thing. Electricity rises over my skin and stings his fingertips again. I glare at Reid. “How are you doing that?”

He winks at me. “Not me, babe. That’s all you. Some spells have lingering effects.”

He disappears out the door. Lyric touches me again. The spark is strong this time, causing him to hop around on his tiptoes as he tries to shake it off. “Shit. That really hurts.”

“Then stop touching me. It’s obviously an effect of me stealing your memories last night.”

Lyric glares back at the door. “He’s clever. I’ll give him that. I wonder, though, if your theory is correct and it’s just you who so conveniently has this reaction.”

Lyric’s gaze turns back to Abby. That determined Cote-type look on his face. Lyric is way too much like his older brother.

“Don’t do it, Lyric.”

He shoots me a grin. There would be no talking him out of it. He waltzes across the room with that slow, confident swagger.

“Lyric.” I follow behind him, whispering frantically now. “Trust me on this one. Don’t do it.”

He doesn’t even bother to turn around and acknowledge me. Lyric jumps the counter, grabs Abby, whirls her around and dips her over rom-com movie style and plants a kiss straight on her unsuspecting lips.

No sparks. Well, at least no visible sparks. Abby’s response rate is longer than I would have suspected. She doesn’t jerk away. She doesn’t even stop the kiss. Lyric brings her back to her feet, setting her back in place. It’s then, and only then, after the shock fades from her face, that she punches Lyric in the nose.

I warned him.

Chapter 9

Ultimatum

The rain definitely brought in a crisp autumn chill to town. I sit wrapped in two blankets in the middle of my bed, staring at the foggy morning outside my window. We are headed back into the depths of Raven Ridge today in hope that with Lyric in tow we can convince Svetta to let us into the Raven’s Tower. We need the book of the Bessette family history. Right now, though, my mind can’t concentrate. All I hear is the sound of my shower. The sprinkling of water against the hard tile. Reid’s clothes hang over the arm of the armchair right next to the bathroom door.

He’ll have to open the door to retrieve them.

Reid probably expects me to go downstairs, maybe whip up some of my famous adventure day coffee with extra espresso in preparation for the long day ahead of us. If that’s what he thinks, then he’s been wrong about me this entire time. I’m not moving from this spot on my bed. He very clearly told me our conversation and everything that conversation was about to lead to that morning out on the porch would be continued. It’s been a week. A rough, busy, full of surprises kind of week, but this morning I effectively decided that
to be continued
means
right now
.

The shower kicks off. I climb down my bed, unraveling myself out of my blanket cocoon, and slip off the end to grab the clothes off the chair. His t-shirt is still warm where he got it from the dryer this morning. I slip it on over my tank top and then do the same with the black flannel shirt. Both of them smell like him. I raise the collar of the shirt and inhale the scent.

“What are you doing?”

I glance over my shoulder.

Damn. He got to his boxer briefs, but his jeans are still strung over the edge of the chair. His arms spread out to cover the entire doorframe, his eyebrow cocked in my direction as he watches me tie a knot in the bottom of his t-shirt. A sign that I’m not going to give it back.

“Just getting dressed.” I smile innocently at him, but then enjoy the sight of him again. All of him. Every single exposed inch. “Is that a blush on your face, Reid Thomas?”

He grins, his gaze on the floor, but it gradually rises to meet mine. “Hint taken.”

I shake my head. “Nope. No more hints for you.”

I trot over to my closet, casually dropping the cotton shorts I’d slept in to the floor. Torture Tuesday makes Wicked Wednesday panty selection seem tame. I take my time finding a pair of jeans to go with the shirt I stole. When I finally slip them on and turn around to face him again, his face is more serious.

That’s good because so is mine. “I don’t like ultimatums, but I feel you’ve left me with no choice.”

He doesn’t say anything. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, though. His fingers flex around the edge of the doorframe. I ignore it. “Twenty-four hours,” I say, flipping my horrible bed head version of gorgeous-enough-to-make-ultimatums hair over my shoulder.

He drops his hand and comes toward me. His fingers graze the edge of the sleeve of his flannel shirt and then up my forearm. “Twenty-four hours, huh?” He circles around me, his chest and waist easing up behind me. His palm catches on my hip as he carefully brings my hair across my shoulder to expose the small space of skin at my neck. His breath brushes across it. “Twenty-four hours to do what exactly?”

My head cranes over. A reflex. A reflex in hope that he’ll kiss my skin the way he’d showed me in that altered memory of us on the couch.

He does.

His fingers flex against my ribcage while the others sneak under the hem of my shirt. I want more of this. More of him every day. He twists my hips, turning me around to face him. I lift up on my toes to find his lips. It’s even better than the first time. Like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss me. He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips. “Shut the door.”

I reach back for the handle, but I’m too far away. I take one tiny step back, trying not to break the kiss, but have to pull away long enough to grab the handle.

“Geez.” A very familiar and annoying voice says. “My eyes.”

I open my eyes all the way to see Lyric in the door of my room with his hands cupped over his face. He’s shaking his head like he’s trying to throw something out of it. “Ugh. What do you want, Lyric?”

“I want to unsee that,” he says. “Can that black sludge rip that memory out of my head?”

“What do you want, Lyric?” Reid asks now, a little more annoyed and forcefully than I did.

He slowly brings his hand down and peeks cautiously through the slits in his fingers. “Could you put on pants first?”

“What do you want?” This time Reid doesn’t mean it as a question. It’s a demand. The entire atmosphere in the room changes.

Lyric shrinks down a notch. “Abby is downstairs. She’s threatening to torture me.”

I roll my eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I’m not the one waving scissors around like a mad woman down there.” Lyric glares back down the hallway.

I look back at Reid and sigh. “Finish getting ready, and I’ll go mediate.”

I start to take off his shirt and give it back to him, but he stops me. “Keep it. It looks good on you.” Then he leans in closer, whispering in my ear. “It’ll be a good reminder of your ultimatum.”

I smile at him as I leave the room with Lyric. Once in the hallway, I give Lyric a not very happy shove on my way past him down the stairs. “Whatever Abby wants to do to you down here, she’s getting my permission. You realize that, right?”

Lyric scowls, but follows me. As soon as I enter the kitchen, I see what all the fuss is about. Abby is a beautician. It’s her day job, and she’s officially turned my kitchen into a makeshift hair salon. She stands next to an empty chair, scissors in hand. She immediately points them at Lyric, who instantly huddles behind me. “Get your butt in this seat,” she says.

“You’re not cutting my hair. I like it like this.” He intentionally shoves his hair out of his eyes to make his point.

Abby’s eyes narrow. “And I told you that if we want to convince Svetta to let us go searching through the Ridge for this Raven Tower, we need to make you remind her of your brother. I’m cutting your hair.”

Lyric looks desperately at me. “Save me.”

I sigh and turn around to plead his case to Abby. “You think that is really necessary?”

Abby walks toward me, setting the scissors down on the table. “The Haunted don’t just let the Innocent go walking around the Ridge. Svetta’s house, it’s the first of many down in the valley. She’s like the gatekeeper. We have to have her permission to pass.” She points behind me at Lyric. “He’s our ticket in.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with my hair,” Lyric says over my shoulder.

Svetta loves Julien. You could hear it in her voice that day, the way she talked about their time together. His absence has really taken a toll on her heart. We have to find that family history, and if our only way to the tower is through Svetta, then Abby is right. Lyric is our ticket in. Lyric was born in Charleston after Francois left Sanctuary. It’s possible that Svetta doesn’t even know she has another nephew. We have to make him remind Svetta of Julien.

I smile weakly at Lyric. “I’m sorry, but the hair has to go.”

“Witches,” he says, snarling his nose. “All of you.”

Abby laughs behind me. It’s deep and evil, and purely for Lyric’s benefit. “Well…yeah.”

She holds her hand out and an invisible force grabs Lyric by the shirt and jerks him toward the empty chair. He falls into it, his eyes already black and brimming red as he stands back up to face her. “I like when you’re rough. Do it again.”

She steps in his face, closer than I would have expected. Her nose almost touches his, and she takes an exceedingly long time eyeing him down. “No.”

Lyric grins. I know that grin. I’ve seen it before.

Abby brought the Mr. Hyde out in him.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why the Haunted are so attracted and drawn to the Innocent. The monster inside of them knows that being around us, that natural opposition, will set them free, even if only for a moment or two.

Grady takes that opportune moment to walk in behind me. He sees it too. The look in Lyric’s eyes. Not just the evil glint that reveals Lyric’s alter ego’s possession of his thoughts and actions, but the pure seduction in them. That look could crumble empires. In fact, it could stop a witch as powerful as Abby in her tracks. And it does. For one second.

Unfortunately, it only takes that same second for Grady to recognize Lyric’s intentions. Grady barrels across the room toward him. I catch hold of his shoulder, barely able to stop him even with the jolt of electricity I send down his arms. “Grady, stop.”

He winces as the heat of the sparks continues to sting his arms. “That Haunted piece of crap is trying to hit on my girlfriend.”

I jerk him back, holding him steady as I look him dead in the eye. “You’re right. He is one of the Haunted, and you’d do well to remember that.” I force him to see the seriousness on my face. “You might be bigger than him, Grady, but that’s it.”

The Haunted, especially when consumed by their alternate personalities, are strong, quick, and crafty as hell. Despite Grady’s size, he would be no match for Lyric. And Lyric knows it. He chuckles behind me. His eyes are full-on blacked out now. His gaze darts around the room, searching…hunting for something. “
Je sais que vous etes ici. Venir jouer
,” he says in perfect French, his lips peeling back to showcase the edges of his razor sharp teeth.

Abby snaps her fingers, and a spark ignites right in front of Lyric’s eyes. He grabs his face and sinks down in the seat, screaming. When he finally looks up, the blackness in his eyes is gone. He’s merely Lyric again. “That hurt,” he says, rubbing the spot between his eyes.

“Then I suggest you do a better job keeping that psycho inside of you under control.”

He glares up at her. “You keep provoking him. He likes it when you tease me.”

Abby’s lips press into a hard line, and Lyric smiles at her.

“We both do.”

Grady tries to take a go at him again, but I keep him in place. “Lyric,” I say, bringing his attention to me. “What was that you said in French right then?”

“What? I didn’t say anything in French.”

I give Grady a stern look before releasing him to walk over to Lyric. “Your Mr. Hyde did. It was like you were talking to someone. You said
Je sais que vous etes ici
.” My French is horrible, but I think I get it right. “And then
venir jouer
.”

Lyric looks at me strange. “Are you sure?”

“I think so. Why? What is it?”

“I know you’re here. Come out and play.”

I move in front of him now. “Why would you have said that?”

He shakes his head, trying to remember. “I don’t know. I was so focused trying to regain control I hadn’t even realized he said anything.”

“You said it in French, though. Julien is the only person I know who speaks it.”

Abby looks at me. “You think Julien is here?”

Lyric rubs his head. “It’s possible. It would explain why it was so difficult for me to take control back. I’m usually a little more disciplined than that. Being around my brother, someone who has been completely consumed by the curse, it makes this monster inside of me want to come out. One of the many reasons I wanted away from him.”

Something flashes behind me and I jerk around. It’s only Reid. He looks around at all of our wide-eyed stares. “What? Do I have toothpaste on my face?”

We all sigh. “No. I think Julien is back in town, though, and I think he’s close.”

He immediately walks to me. “Why do you think that?”

“Because psycho’s other personality was talking to him in French,” Grady says bitterly, clearly not ready to forgive Lyric yet.

Reid eyes him. “And why was your other personality even in control?”

Lyric points accusingly at Abby. “Tell your sister to stop flirting with me.”

Abby’s eyes light up and I immediately grab her. Provoking Lyric isn’t going to solve anything. “I think if we’re going to Raven Ridge today, we need to wait on Sadie. Julien knows the land a lot better than we do. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“Like cutting your hair,” Abby says under her breath toward Lyric. “We have to make sure Svetta will let us pass first.”

“I brought something too,” Grady says, holding up a small white box. “It’s buckeyes. My mom says Julien used to stop in the bakery and pick up a box for Svetta all the time. They’re her favorite.”

“So you think a new haircut and a box of candy is going to convince some crazy old lady to let us into a restricted part of town?” Lyric says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Not some crazy old lady,” I say, patting him on the shoulder. “Your great-great aunt.”

His eyes round. “Oh.”