White Witch (17 page)

Once we exhaust the books dedicated to witchcraft that are most likely to contain useful information, we delve into the ones on other subjects, hoping there might be some snippet of useful information.

Keller sinks into the big leather chair in the corner. “I can’t believe there’s no reference to the covens in any of these books.”

“They’re very good at getting rid of anyone or anything that threatens their existence.” That thought makes my stomach turn as I glance at Keller. Has my desire to have a normal life, surrounded by non-witches, endangered him? Toni? Everyone in Baker Gap? A chill settles on me, and I can’t shake it.

I close the book I’ve been skimming, satisfied there’s nothing remotely useful within its pages.

“Except the Beginning Book,” Egan says.

“Yeah.” I look around the room. “This is everything?”

“Unless there’s something in the attic. I haven’t been up there in forever.”

Egan pushes away from the wall where he’s leaning. “Point the way and I’ll check it out.”

When Keller leads Egan from the room, I scan the spines of the books on the shelves again, as if they’ll reveal some long-hidden answer. I notice a framed photo at the end of one of the shelves. By the ages of the two men and the dated look of their clothes, I guess it’s Keller’s dad and uncle. They’re laughing in the shot, unaware that a supernatural being would one day crash into their lives with devastating consequences. I swallow against a lump forming in my throat, at the thought of how much more damage a witch coven can do than a solitary poltergeist.

Keller returns at the moment I hear Egan walking around in the attic above us. The feel of Keller massaging my shoulders eases some of the tension that’s been building without my realizing it. But it doesn’t erase my mounting fears.

“We’ll find the answers you need,” he says.

“How? It seems impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible. Come on, we’ve gone through the books, but there’s a trunk of newspaper clippings and research documents.”

A half-hour into reading the assorted material, I feel as if I’ve never sneezed so much in my life.

“Sorry,” Keller says. “Old stuff’s dusty.”

I wave off his concern. “It’s okay.” I examine the old newspaper clippings detailing odd occurrences and strange deaths. One from the 1880s talks about how a respected member of the community drove his wagon right off the side of the mountain. The thought of the horses squealing on the way down makes me shiver.

“What is it?”

I hand him the clipping.

“Hmm, this happened at Shiprock Curve. People wreck there all the time.”

“You think it might be a spirit or something?”

“Doubt it. The curve’s real sharp. People misjudge how fast they’re going and slip off the side of the pavement. The state probably spends more on that guardrail than any other in the state. We actually passed it the other night on the way back from The Barn, right before we turned off at the Kwik Stop.”

“Why is it called Shiprock?”

“There’s a rock face sticking out from the hillside above the curve. It looks like the bow of a ship.” Keller closes the trunk then helps me to my feet. When we’re facing each other, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he slides his fingertips around the edge of my face until they cup my chin, raising it so he can meet my lips with his.

Part of me insists I should pull away, to begin distancing myself for Keller’s protection, but the part that enjoys being held like this trumps wisdom. I press myself against him and let go of inhibition, kiss him like there will be no time later for kissing. Considering my situation, at any moment that assumption could be true. I run my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Inside, I feel a delicious buzz rising up to make me tingle all over.

The door bangs open. We pull away from each other and gasp. A man who must be Reverend Dawes stands there with a gun in one hand and a bloodstone in the other.

Oh, God. That buzzing inside me was my power, some light golden side of it I’ve never experienced. But it sends out detectable waves all the same.

“Dad.”

Reverend Dawes looks shocked, confused. Seeming to regain his presence of mind, he lowers the gun and slips the bloodstone into his pants pocket. “I, uh, didn’t know you were home. I heard something and thought it was an intruder.” He gives Keller a meaningful look, one I know means he thought the intruder wasn’t human—at least not anymore.

“Just us. Uh, Dad, this is Jax. We’re, uh
 . . .
we’ve been going out.”

“Oh.” Reverend Dawes’ eyebrows rise, and so does my heart rate. “It’s nice to meet you.” He takes a few steps forward, but he doesn’t put away his gun.

I will my frantic heartbeat to slow as I shake the older man’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” I can’t maintain eye contact. It feels as if his questions are burning tunnels into my brain. As if being caught kissing Keller isn’t bad enough, I have the feeling suspicions are building in the reverend’s mind. After all, with Keller’s truck and Egan’s bike outside, the reverend had to know Keller was home and that he wasn’t alone. He simply hadn’t expected to see someone with his son who looked human.

“Would you mind excusing us for a minute? I need to talk to Keller,” his father says.

“Uh, sure.” I hurry from the room and start whenever Reverend Dawes nearly shuts the door on my heels. Oh, no. The Beginning Book—where is it? I pace to the kitchen, then into the living room and back again. I can’t exactly march back into the study and grab it. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. What is Keller’s dad telling him? Is he grilling him about me? Oh, crap, what about Egan? Do I dare heading to the attack to warn him? What if Rev. Dawes comes out and finds me missing or, worse, in his attack?

Why can’t I learn to control my power?

I pace some more, watching each tick of the clock’s second hand as if it marks hours passing instead. I spin to walk the other direction and nearly yelp. Egan stands in the hallway outside the living room. I grab him by the arm and pull him toward the front door. When he starts to speak, I clap my hand over his mouth. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” I whisper.

Once we’re safely outside, I release him. “Keller’s dad came home, a gun in one hand and a bloodstone in the other.”

“The stone shouldn’t indicate our presence unless we’re actively utilizing our power.”

I shift on my feet. “Well, evidently, we stir our power if we’re really happy, too.”

A huge, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Got a little revved up, huh?”

“It was stupid. We shouldn’t even be here.” I shake my head.

“You’re probably right.”

That wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. “You need to leave,” I say. “There’s a park at the end of the street. Wait for me there.”

His expression grows serious. “Jax, if you’re setting off the guy’s bloodstone, you’re the one who needs to get away from here now.”

“I’m okay. It’s under control.”

Egan crosses his arms. “What if he decides to whack you?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, I can see that. You’ve lived here how long, and you’ve already had altercations with two guys carrying guns.”

“Damn, how long have you been spying on me?”

“Reconnaissance, babe, not spying.”

“Well, you and your recon need to get the heck out of here.”

“If you’re not there in thirty minutes, I’m coming back.”

I meet his gaze, realize that despite his teasing and studly attitude, he really does care about me. And I care about him. No one else can understand what I’m facing more than Egan.

I nod.

After Egan leaves, I turn and stare at the parsonage. Who would have ever thought I’d step foot in a parsonage? I wonder if I ever will again.

Keller leans across the console and kisses me tenderly. I fear I’m falling in love with him. How else can I explain the storm of feelings swirling inside me?

“Come on, you two,” Egan says from outside Keller’s open window. “That’s what got us caught in the first place.”

I move back to the passenger side of the truck.

“So, I hope one of you got the book.”

Keller and I don’t reply.

“You are kidding me, right?”

“It’s under Dad’s desk. I’ll get it later tonight when he’s sleeping.”

Egan eyes me. “I hope you aren’t too attached to this town, because if the good reverend finds that book, we are witch toast. Either he guns for us and we fight back, or we beat it out of here.”

I stare down at my hands clasped in my lap. “I know.” My heart sinks in my chest like a rock to the bottom of the sea.

“No one’s going anywhere,” Keller says. “I’ll get the book.”

“It might not be as easy as you think,” Egan says. “Pops is suspicious now. He’ll be watching you a lot closer.

Keller slams his palm against the steering wheel, making me jump. “I can’t believe he grilled me after all these years, after everything I’ve done.”

“Families don’t always act like we want them to,” Egan says.

“What else did he say?” I ask.

“He suspects something isn’t right because the bloodstone activated. They don’t do that unless something supernatural is nearby.”

“And he thinks it’s me?”

“Yeah, though I denied it.”

I look over at the guys. “So what now?”

Silence stretches for a few seconds.

“Well, I don’t know about you two,” Egan says, “but I’m starving. How about we chow down at that place where Jax about lost her cool the other day?”

Keller gives me a questioning look.

“He means Squeaky’s.”

Keller nods. “That’s a good idea. We act normal, and maybe Dad will back off.”