Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) Page 4

  “Where are we going?” I ask, this time in a whisper, avoiding eye contact.

  I know it’s silly, because we just left a room full of witnesses, but I can’t stop picturing myself being thrown into a swamp full of snapping alligators like I’m Indiana Jones on my last crusade.

  “You wanted this.” Attention straight on the road, he refuses to look at me. “So we’ve got some things to straighten out.”

  It’s vague, but at least it’s an answer. However, I doubt he’d actually tell me if he planned to feed me to alligators. That would probably be counterproductive to his mission.

  I lean back in my seat and breathe, assuring myself that just because he wants me to leave town doesn’t mean he wants me dead. I become slightly less panicked when we pull into the driveway leading down to my house. The sound of the gravel is noisy as we skid into place just behind the trailer. He jumps out of the truck before I even notice he cut off the ignition. I scurry out, following him up the walk. He fumbles with his key in the lock.

  “Hey!” I peek over his shoulder and scowl. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “Why?” He glares back, pushing the door open. “You’ve got a flashlight in your purse?”

  I stomp in behind him. “You can’t just come in anytime you feel like it. I appreciate you taking care of the house, but it’s mine now.”

  He stops in the middle of the room, and I stumble into his back. He turns around slowly, looking down at me. The house is dark; only the light of the moon shines through the windows, highlighting his face. He’s close. He could touch me if he wanted. It would make sense. His palm under my elbow, or his fingers against my waist.

  Except he doesn’t.

  “Fiona gave me this key when I was ten years old,” he whispers in the small space between us. “Everyone in our family has a key to this house.”

  I want to snap back at him, but I don’t know if I’m actually mad about the key or something else. I take a step back, and this time I look away. “I don’t know how families work.”

  I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’ve been an orphan for the better part of my life. I still can’t look him in the eye.

  He points behind me. “There is a blue cookie jar on the top shelf of your cabinet.”

  I follow his finger to the kitchen cabinets and then turn back to him. “Go look in it.”

  I walk by him, dodging boxes along the way until I open the cabinet doors. In the very last one I see a chipped blue jar stuck in the back corner. I climb up on the counter to reach it. I grab it, sitting down so I can hold it more securely. I glance at Reid, standing at the counter’s edge watching me, before I stick my hand inside. My fingers hit metal, and I can tell by the jingling sound it makes that the jar is full of keys. “Mine is the one with the giant R painted on it.” He crosses his arms. “Feel free to break in anytime.”

  I clamp the lid shut. “You don’t mean that.”

  He shrugs. “You’re right, I don’t. But I’m keeping my key.”

  “Fine.” I jump off the counter. “Keep your stupid key. However, I can’t be held responsible for any bodily harm I cause you when you use it against my will.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You caught me off guard.”

  “That’s the excuse I’d use too.”

  He exhales noisily, turning his attention across the room. He winds his way around some boxes until he stands before the large wooden cabinet in the corner. I know I have no right, but I suddenly feel possessive of it. I don’t want him to touch it. I especially don’t want him touching my letter that remains taped to the front door. I bite back the urge to order him away from it.

  He runs his hands along the outside, searching for the handles, but it’s hard to see with such dim lighting. I spot my flashlight on the far edge of the counter and grab it. I use it to tap his shoulder, offering it to him. I snort out loud when he flinches.

  He snatches it out of my hand, then turns it on and quickly finds the handles. He pulls the double doors open, revealing three long rows of tiny drawers, each marked with a different engraving. I squint through the darkness as he grazes his fingers over the drawers, apparently looking for something in particular. He stops at a drawer in the lower left corner that has a circle carved in the middle with a star in the right corner. Inside are small glass vials that clink together at the movement. He grabs one, shutting the drawer as quickly as he opened it.

  He spins around to face me, and for the first time, he looks uncertain of himself. “Do you trust me?” He shoves his hair out of his eyes.

  “No.” Though harsh, my voice is also a little sad. It’s the truth, though. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. It is the bleak reality of my life.

  “Can you pretend like you do for about thirty minutes?”

  I want to trust him. I want to think he only has my best interest at heart. Under normal circumstances, a person might be convinced based solely on the fact that I am considered a part of his family. However, I found out the hard way that family doesn’t always love you back.

  I point at the vial. “Does it have something to do with that?”

  He grips it tightly before displaying it to me in his palm. The clear glass is filled with a pale blue liquid that swooshes back and forth from the sudden movement. “I need you to drink it.” He throws his hand out like it’s no big deal.

  I scoff loudly to show him the ridiculousness of his request.

  “I know.”

  “Yeah.” I bend down and scrunch my nose at the vial. “So why don’t you drink it? Then we’ll talk.”

  “We don’t have time for that.” He moves closer to the door and looks outside. “The moon could disappear any second.”

  I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the heck the moon has to do with any of this. He holds his hand out toward me. I reflexively jump back like the vial might bite me. “Drink it,” he says hastily. “If you want answers, you have to drink it.”

  I look at the liquid one last time, eyeing its blue color and fizzing bubbles. Witnesses, I remind myself. If he poisons me, I have an entire restaurant full of witnesses. I give him one last warning glare before retrieving the vial from his hand. “If I die,” I begin, unscrewing the top, “I’m going to haunt you. I’ll be your worst Freddy freaking nightmare.”

  He nods. “I have no doubt.”

  I close my eyes slowly, imagining it’s Thursday night at Proud Larry’s, Ace just announced last call, and it’s time to man up. I throw back the vial, downing the liquid in one quick shot, just like old times. I stick out my tongue, gagging at the bitter taste.

  “You get used to it,” he says with a satisfied smile. “Or at least that’s what they tell me.”

  I groan. “What was that?”

  “You’ll see.” He grabs my arm. “Let’s get you in the moonlight.”

  He drags me through the kitchen and out the back door. We are already standing in the yard when the screen door slaps shut behind us. He looks up at the sky, cursing loudly. “Clouds.” He mutters something else under his breath as he studies the sky. “We have to wait for them to pass.”

  He pulls me across the yard, still looking up at the sky, positioning me as if I’m a lawn ornament. Maybe he’d be pleased if I pose like a flamingo.

  After pulling me back and forth, he finally settles on a spot next to some high grass. I cringe away from it. I think I might actually prefer the alligators.

  “Just stay put.”

  I shoot him a look, but he only rolls his eyes.

  “What is going to happen?” I intentionally step away from the grass.

  He looks cautiously behind me. “We’re just waiting on the alligators.”

  I whip around in a panic to the sound of his muffled laugh.

  “That’s not funny. And how do you know I’m scared of alligators?”

  “You speak your thoughts out loud when you’re nervous.” He attempts to hide his amusement as he smiles at the ground. I feel oddly proud, making him s
mile. It seems like such a hard task to accomplish. “Besides, everyone is scared of alligators. They’re basically giant frogs with teeth.”

  I shudder. “Ugh. Frogs.”

  He rubs his temple like he has a headache. “Abby is going to freaking love you.”

  I start to ask him if that means I’m allowed to actually meet Abby, but his attention diverts back to the sky, where the clouds begin to part. Whatever we are waiting for is about to happen.

  I suck in a breath, prepared for impact. The clouds scatter. The light of the moon sneaks through the corner, revealing itself inch by inch. I grit my teeth as the last puff glides past. I close my eyes, expecting something to change, maybe a sensation or some kind of involuntary movement, but nothing happens.

  I open my eyes to inquire about what I should expect when I notice the faint green light. I swallow my breath. My entire body emits a green light, like I’m radioactive. I hold my hand out in front of my face and turn it back and forth, watching the light wave at me. I look through the haze to gape at Reid.

  “What is happening to me?” I turn around in circles to showcase the glow.

  “You are one of them.”

  “What?” I can’t comprehend the expressionless look on his face as he stares across the field at me. Why did he act so shocked? Didn’t he expect this to happen? “What is this? What did you do to me?”

  He walks a few steps closer, his face falling with each step. He’s sad. Possibly devastated. “I didn’t do anything to you. This is who you are.”

  “What? A glow stick?” I wave my hand in circles. “Because if this is what I’ve been waiting twenty-two years to find out, I’m going to be pissed.”

  He shakes his head, annoyance running thick on his face. “An Innocent. You’re one of the Innocent.”

  My arms fall limply at my side. I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, some quite horrible, but never an Innocent.

  Suddenly, I don’t know how to make myself speak. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it, hoping if I start over, I’ll manage to make it work, but no such luck. I’m speechless. Reid walks toward me, his face still sad. I hate how I always seem to have that effect on him.

  “Wilhelmina,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Our lives here are complicated. Thanks to that stunt you pulled at the diner, I have no choice but to go home and tell them you’re here. Everyone will know you’re here now.”

  He stops for a second, grimacing at the thought. “But you,” he struggles to get the words out, “you still have a choice in this. You can leave. You can leave here and go live a normal life.”

  I scoff loudly. Does he honestly think he can turn me green, call me a funny name, and then send me on my way to live happily ever after?

  “Normal?” I repeat with a cruel laugh. “You think that is what I’ve been doing this whole time? I’ve just been out there all happy-go–lucky, living life?”

  He doesn’t speak, but then again, I don’t give him a chance. The thought infuriates me.

  “You just called me an Innocent. What does that mean? Because I’ve been wondering my whole life what makes me such a freak that my own father was too scared to love me!”

  I heave in breaths, the adrenaline kicking in, my mind turning in circles.

  “You are one of the Innocent.” The sadness is still so evident in his worn voice. “Only a descendent of them will glow under the moonlight after drinking a shot of Jade’s Witchy Whiskey.”

  It was a test. He wanted to confirm what I’m sure he suspected the entire time. “Does that scare you?” I hold out my glowing arms for him to see. “Is this why you want me to leave?”

  I had to ask, even if I really don’t want to hear the answer. I don’t think I could blame him if that is the reason he wants me to go, wanting to protect his family from someone like me.

  “No.” Guilt. It’s brief, but I catch it on his face before he knows I’ve seen it. “All the women in my family are descendants of the Innocent.”

  I shake my head, confused. “Are you saying we’re related?”

  “There are two distinct lines.”

  My emotions betray me as I let the hope brim to the surface. There are more people like me. I’m not the only one. Does that mean I’ve been right all along? My mother had abilities too? I want to be excited. I want to ask him a million questions, but there are other things we have to deal with first. “If you’re not scared of me, why do you want me to leave so badly?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “That isn’t an answer.”

  He watches my face, and when I don’t back down, his worried expression turns to defeat. “Wilhelmina.” He sighs my name like it’s the most tragic thing he’s ever had to say. “Your mother didn’t die from some kind of illness. She was murdered. Someone took her life because of what she was, because she was one of the Innocent.”

  I’ve thought about it, the reason for her death, but not once did I imagine her life had been taken from her. I’m shocked by how quickly the anger sets in. Like I’ve actually been robbed. I lost the chance to ever know the one parent who might actually accept me.

  Reid walks closer, urgency on his face as he continues to speak. “It isn’t safe here. Especially for you. Before tonight, no one knew you existed outside of our family circle. If they find out about you, I don’t know what they might try to do. I have too much to worry about without adding you to it.”

  “Who are you scared of?” My hands shake, and my voice cracks. “Who killed my mother?”

  “If I knew that, they’d be dead already.” He’s angry too. “We don’t know who we can trust, which makes it all the more dangerous. That’s why you need to go now, while you still can.”

  “No.” Tears well up in my eyes. “I’m not leaving.”

  I can’t leave. Not now. Not after finally knowing the impact of my loss. I can’t give up what I have left of her. I can’t leave her house to sit empty like she never existed. I only have this little bit of her left, and I’m not giving it up.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” I manage to sputter out. “I’ll take care of myself. But I can’t leave. I have nowhere else to go.”

  “It’s not that simple.” He paces back and forth. “You can’t stay here and think people won’t find out about you. Besides, there won’t be any going back now that Abby and Sadie have seen you.”

  “I won’t speak to them.” I start to panic, my anger turning quickly to fear. “I’ll stay away from you too, if that’s what you want. I just need to be here. I need to be where she lived. I have my own reasons.”

  He shakes his head violently, gripping his hands in his hair. “You don’t get it. They won’t let you do that. They love you. Every single one of them. They don’t even know you, and they love you. If something went wrong, they would all die to protect you. Don’t you get that?”

  I don’t get that. I don’t know what it feels like to have someone love me so much. It seems impossible.

  He steps closer and clutches my shoulders. “Whoever wanted Fiona dead killed her because of who her family is, and trust me, around here, who your mother is means a lot.”

  I look down, but he tilts my chin back up to look at him. “What do you think they’ll do when they find out Fiona has a daughter who can step up and take her place? They will come after you, Wilhelmina. They will try to kill you too, and whoever else might stand in their way.”

  It isn’t fair. I’ve already lost so much, and now to find out if I stay here, I’ll be putting not only myself, but also other people in danger. I don’t even know these people, but it doesn’t change the obligation I feel to protect them or the ache in my chest at the loss of never getting the chance to know them.

  The ticking bomb inside me goes off, and my emotions explode. I cry openly, without shame, not in hope of changing his mind, but because it feels good. The relief of finally putting a name to my abnormality, knowing it’s inherited, while the weight of
the burden I might be placing on them now because of it is too much to handle. My chest starts to heave as my tears blur my vision.

  “I don’t mean to scare you.” His words are muffled through the sound of my own sobs.

  I am scared, but not for the reason he believes. I’m not scared to stay here and die, but rather to leave. I’m afraid of having to live life somewhere other than this place where my existence finally makes sense. I sink to the ground, my knees too weak with grief to hold the weight of my realization. I cry into my glowing hands as I feel the wind pick up around me. My hair blows off my shoulders, and I know I am losing control. He bends down on his knees. “Calm down.”

  I shake my head. It’s too late. The wind blows harder. The leaves rustle in the trees behind me.

  “Calm down,” he says again.

  I continue to shake my head. I can’t stop it now. My emotions are too strong. The wind whistles as it hits my face in swift gusts.

  “Stop.” His voice is stern, but his touch is gentle as his fingers tip my cheek. It feels cool against my flushed skin. I flinch, but he only increases the contact, placing his entire palm against my face. “Concentrate. Calm down.”

  The salt from my tears sting my tongue as I bite my lips, trying to force myself into submission. Truthfully, I don’t want to stop. It feels too good to let it all out. However, I don’t want to frighten him. He was at least nice enough to tell me what I am, even if it was to cure his own curiosity.

  My chest continues to heave uncontrollably as I squeeze my eyes shut. I try to force my emotions into my tears instead of letting them run freely through me. It isn’t an easy task, but it helps having his skin against mine. It gives me something to focus on. The wind eases, but the intensity of my tears increases. “Wilhelmina.” He pulls my face up, but I resist.

  “I know,” I croak, my voice thick with misery. “I have to go.”

  “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. You should be glad you’re able to still opt out of this.”