The Trouble With Witches Read online

  Then she’d have to find a safe place to park for the night, because her car was going to be her bed this evening. Even without heat. A hotel room was too big of a luxury at this moment in her life. Especially if the aunt she’d been counting on to take her in was no longer around.

  She checked her mirror, then headed down the road, driving a few miles under the speed limit and watching carefully for a sign that would point her toward the remains of Shadowvale.

  The distance ticked away on her GPS, but no sign ever appeared. Maybe it had fallen down. The cop had made it seem like Shadowvale had ceased to be in operation long enough for that to have happened.

  But the last few feet came and went, and no sign ever appeared.

  She slowed down, crawling along the road as she tried to see any indication of where the town might be. Not easy on a country road with only the moonlight and her headlamps to go by.

  She turned around and backtracked, following the GPS to the exact spot it claimed Shadowvale was located.

  “You have arrived at your destination,” the computer voice said.

  “Thanks,” Em answered. “But there’s nothing here but trees and weeds and…”

  She peered closer. Then shook her head. How had she missed that road before? It was a little overgrown, but it was plainly visible now that her headlights were shining right on it.

  Too bad it wasn’t lit. A couple of streetlights would make it a lot less creepy. But she’d come this far. She wasn’t stopping now.

  She turned down the narrow road. The trees were thick on both sides and dripping in moss. Creepy was right. But it was also kind of pretty. Like a film set. For a movie where everybody died.

  She came to a gated entrance.

  The metal gates were set in wide stone columns. They were twice as tall as she was and wide enough to let two cars pass, but they were also thick with vines and caked with rust. And closed. And locked.

  The cop had been right. No one had been through them in many, many years.

  She stared at the gates, leaning on the steering wheel to see the name Shadowvale spelled out in the wrought iron at the top. She sighed. Well, she was in the right place.

  Too bad she was years too late.

  She stared a few moments longer, then decided she might as well get a picture to prove she’d been here. To whom, she wasn’t sure, but she needed some kind of proof that she’d made the attempt. Maybe for herself, for the future. As a reminder that she’d at least tried for a fresh start and hadn’t failed for lack of ambition.

  She grabbed her phone and hopped out of the car, then positioned herself in front of the gates, held her phone out, and snapped a couple shots.

  The air was dry and cool, but scented with some kind of night-blooming flower. What kind of flower bloomed this early in spring? The South was a mystery to her. Spring here happened in a very different way than she was used to. Even the insect life was thriving. But the soft buzz of their wings almost sounded like a lullaby, reminding her she still had to find a place to park and sleep.

  She scrolled through the pics she’d just taken to see how they’d come out. Decent. Although she looked a little tired, and her smile seemed forced. Which it was. She’d been driving for two days.

  Only to discover it was all for nothing.

  A faint creaking broke overtop the subtle hum of the evening. She looked up from her phone, unsure where the sound had come from. Nothing new that she could see. And thankfully, it wasn’t her car rolling back toward the highway. Some bug, maybe? Or a frog? That was probably it.

  She decided on one more selfie. One in which she looked a little more genuinely happy. One that might help her see the future in a brighter light.

  She raised the phone again, smiled her best smile, and took the shot. She looked at it on her phone to see if it was better than the first ones.

  She stared at the image, trying to understand what she was seeing. With two fingers, she zoomed in.

  Was that right? How could it be? She turned around to look.

  The gates were open.

  Chapter Two

  Rumor had it that Shadowvale was the most cursed town in all of America. Deacon Evermore didn’t know if that was true. He hadn’t been to every town in America. And those he had been to, well, it had been a long time since he’d been outside Shadowvale’s gates. He was busy enough in this town.

  He did know that Shadowvale was definitely cursed. Though, maybe cursed wasn’t exactly the right description. Touched with questionable magic was better. From the iron gates that opened when and if they wanted to, all the way up to the tops of the mountains that surrounded the valley the town sat in, then right back down to the magical meridian lines deep beneath Shadowvale’s soil, everything was a little…off.

  Some things were a lot off. Like how the sun never shone. Hadn’t in as many years as anyone could remember. Because of a curse, naturally.

  The vampires in town—and there were many—saw it as a major perk. It was their primary reason for moving to Shadowvale. A few of the witches (although not Amelia Marchand, grand dame of the town and the perpetrator of the sunless-existence spell) claimed they were working on a counterspell to undo the curse and bring the sun back to Shadowvale, but Deacon reckoned that was just a lot of talk.

  Especially because the vampires were dead set against this. As a result, the feelings between the vampires and the witches ranged from mildly irritated to downright vexed.

  Although there was the occasional pair who somehow looked past all that and got rather cozy with each other. But that wasn’t his business, so he stayed out of such things. Preferred it that way, in truth.

  Until he had to get involved.

  The shifters and the other supernaturals in town didn’t seem to care much about the sun one way or the other. After all, they had their own burdens to bear.

  Everyone in town did, really.

  Deacon was no exception, and proof that the curses came in varying degrees. Sometimes the curse was obvious because it was easy to see. Like with Mrs. Fitzwilliams in the black and gray cottage on Sorrows Lane whose hair set itself ablaze whenever she got upset. Or like with Fred Chimes, the butcher at the Green Grocer, who had a nervous condition that rendered him invisible during the peak of that condition.

  Sometimes the curses weren’t so obvious. Like Deacon’s curse. Or all of his family’s curses. They were very real, but nothing that could be seen. Thankfully. Small comfort, though.

  But that’s why people moved to Shadowvale. They had something to hide. Or they wanted to be left alone. Or they didn’t want to be left alone, instead choosing to live amongst those similarly plagued by the misfortunes of life.

  Curses, troubles, jinxes, plagues, miseries, traumas, plights, predicaments, whatever you called them, everybody here had one. Or they owned something cursed. Occasionally, someone just thought they were cursed, but even that was a sort of curse.

  Whatever the reason they’d come to Shadowvale, something about that shared burden made the weight a little easier to bear.

  Didn’t mean getting a phone call from Amelia Marchand at half past ten in the evening was something he was thrilled about.

  “Miss Amelia.”

  “Deacon.”

  “What can I do for you?” No doubt someone’s curse had activated, requiring his services.

  “I need a favor.”

  He took a breath. That was a better reason for her call than any he’d imagined. “I’ll be happy to oblige if I can.”

  “My niece is arriving any moment now and—”

  “The gates let her in?” The gates didn’t just let people in. The gates were picky. And no one really knew the how or why of their decision-making. (Or if the rumored gatekeeper really existed.)

  “She’s my niece. My blood is in her veins. I can’t imagine they wouldn’t. At this point anyway.”

  “Ah.” He nodded for no real purpose, being that he was on the phone. “Makes sense.”

  “I need
you to persuade her that Shadowvale is not for her.”

  That wasn’t something he wanted to be on the hook for. “You don’t think you can do that?”

  “I love her. I don’t want to hurt her. Or be the bad guy. And I will do my part, but I need someone more persuasive.”

  “I see. So I get to be the heavy.”

  Amelia sighed. “Is it so much to ask? You are the town’s peacekeeper.”

  “True.” But he wasn’t a peacekeeper in the traditional sense of the word. Sometimes he was, taking care of things the same way any lawman would. Mostly, he fixed situations that had nothing to do with the law. And Shadowvale had a lot of those. This didn’t seem like that kind of situation.

  He made one last attempt to get out of it. “But I work for the citizens of Shadowvale. Technically, your niece doesn’t quite qualify as—”

  “I will make it worth your while.”

  “I’m listening.” Not like he had a choice.

  “You still want out of Shadowvale permanently? And to be free of your curse?”

  He went silent for a moment. Moving out wasn’t something he talked about. Mostly for Gracie’s sake. And because of the consequences that leaving would bring. “That’s not possible.”

  “I can make it possible.”

  His breath caught in his throat. Was that true? It had to be if Amelia was saying so. But he’d heard her deny it before, too, so what did he believe? He shook his head. Amelia was the town’s architect. If she said she could do it, she must really be able to. “Only if Gracie gets to go too. Same deal, free of her curse.”

  “That’s a lot to ask for.”

  “It’s not negotiable. We’re a package deal.”

  Her sigh had an edge to it, like he’d asked too much. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He smiled. “When and where do I meet her?”

  “Good.” Satisfaction rang in her voice. “Tomorrow morning. Indigo House. Come for breakfast. Eight sharp.”

  “I normally eat here at the—”

  “And listen, you’re simply to show her around and persuade her this is not the place for her. No flirting, no amusing banter, no Southern hospitality. I don’t want her to like you or this town.”

  His brows shot up, and he almost laughed, then thought better of it. For the reward Amelia was offering, she’d get what she wanted.

  When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Do you agree or not?”

  “I do. I’ll be there.” He hung up, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. Amelia’s niece. Had to be more like a great-great-great-niece. Amelia had been around for a long time. Unless this niece was on the upside of ancient, too.

  Huh. He hadn’t considered that. This might be trickier than he’d imagined. The blue-haired set was his best demographic. They loved him. Mostly because he loved them right back. Grandmas and aunties were his favorite kind of women, unless they were trying to fix him up with one of their much younger female relatives.

  She was probably a witch like Amelia as well. That ran in families, from what he understood. Most supernatural abilities had a tendency to do that. It did in his family. Except where poor Gracie was concerned.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Squiring Amelia’s elderly niece around town and keeping her from wanting to stay here might be the easiest thing he’d ever done, but he doubted that. Things were never easy where Amelia was concerned. That was the trouble with witches. They never seemed to give you all the details until you were too deep in to back out.

  Gracie walked into the kitchen in her nightgown, her little white dog in her arms. “Trouble, Deac?”

  “No, honey. Just setting up an appointment for the morning. Did I wake you and Tinkerbelle up?”

  “No.” She gave him a limp smile and scratched Tinkerbelle’s head. “Couldn’t sleep. Bad dream. Tink didn’t have that problem, but I woke her when I got up.”

  “What was the dream about?”

  She shrugged and put Tinkerbelle down. “You know.”

  He pulled his little sister into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Let it go, Gracie.”

  She nodded against his chest. “I am. Just thought I’d make some tea and take it back to bed.”

  He released her. “Good idea.”

  She headed for the cabinets. Tinkerbelle stayed as close by as possible. “You going to bed soon?”

  “In a bit.”

  She took a mug down, popped a K-Cup into the Keurig and pushed the brew button. Chamomile tea, by the smell of it. “Hey, what are you doing Saturday night?”

  He almost answered her, then laughed. Saturday was her birthday, and he and his brothers had a party planned for that night. She’d been hinting around, trying for weeks to find out details. “Nothing much.”

  She frowned at him as she dumped sugar into her cup and stirred. “You boys are terrible.”

  “I know.” He leaned against the counter, watching his baby sister. As much as he wanted to leave Shadowvale, that would mean leaving her. And his brothers.

  Could he do that? He really didn’t know.

  Their father had left. And they all knew how that had ended.

  With a funeral.

  And as far as they knew, that had been their mother’s fate, too, but she’d left right after Gracie had been born, and they hadn’t heard from her since. The loss of her husband followed by the stillbirth of Gracie’s twin had been too much for her, apparently.

  He held a smile on his face even though he no longer felt it. He was trapped here. But if Amelia could find a way to change that…

  Gracie lifted her mug. “Night, Deac.”

  “Night, Gracie.”

  With Tinkerbelle on her heels, she took her tea and padded back to her room, leaving him alone with his tortured thoughts and the feeling of guilt that had kept him rooted in this town for his entire adult life.

  He stayed right where he was, hoping the feeling would pass, but it didn’t. It never did. The Evermores had lived in Shadowvale for generations. They’d been its caretakers in one way or another for all that time, too.

  How was he supposed to leave this place behind when it had its hooks in him so deeply? And how was he supposed to live anywhere else with the Evermore curse hanging over him? What other place would have him? And let him live in relative peace?

  Resentment crawled up his spine, unsettling him more than he could put into words. There was only one way to combat a mood like this.

  He pushed off the counter and strode out to the back deck. Stars filled the sky, and Shadowvale’s constant fireflies dotted the woods beyond the house. A deep inhale of the night air helped, but what he really needed was that air beneath him.

  With a few steps, he launched himself off the deck, shifted into his raven form, and soared into the darkness to fly and forget, at least for a little while.

  * * *

  A dark shadow swooped past as Em inched her car down Shadowvale’s main road. She checked the gates in her rearview mirror. They were already closing.

  She really hoped she’d be able to get them open again. She didn’t think Officer Baker would enjoy coming to rescue her.

  But the gates had opened wide enough to grant her entrance, so she’d taken the opportunity. Hopefully, they’d let her out, too. How they’d come open, she didn’t know, but she’d convinced herself they’d never actually been locked and that she’d leaned against them during her selfie, pushing them open in the process.

  Nothing else made sense.

  Except not overthinking it. Which was why she’d decided to focus on her current task.

  Her plan was just to see her aunt’s house. Maybe park in the driveway and sleep there, if it seemed safe. But the idea of spending the evening in an abandoned town wasn’t all that appealing.

  Still, staying somewhere for free was about all that fit her budget right now.

  The road ahead went straight into the trees, then curved sharply. As she drove around the curve, she came upon the town. She frowned.r />
  The town didn’t really look all that abandoned. Shut down for the night, yes, but abandoned? Not by a long shot.

  Actually, it didn’t even look that shut down.

  The street—Main, she guessed—was well-maintained, lined with shops that looked stocked. Some even had lights on. They weren’t completely lit up, more like security lights. But enough to see that the stores weren’t empty.

  A sign confirmed that she was on Main Street. Softly glowing lamps sat at every street corner, giving off their dim, atmospheric light. Almost seemed like the lamps had been purposefully turned to half power. Or maybe the power grid was waning. More likely the lamps were just old.

  Which made it odd that not a single one was burned out.

  Odder still, what kind of abandoned town had an active retail presence and any electricity? None she’d ever heard of.

  She kept driving and staring, but as she did, a new thought came to her. Maybe this place hadn’t been meant as a town, but some kind of amusement. After all, she’d just passed a store called Bewitched Broomsticks. As if the place actually sold magical broomsticks.

  She snorted.

  Then saw another one. Varina’s Potions and Spells.

  And another. Professor Durrant’s Impossible Tech. Whatever that meant. But judging by the android-looking creature in the window, it wasn’t Radio Shack 2.0.

  What kind of place was this?

  She would have driven farther down Main, but her GPS spoke up, telling her to make the next left onto Hollows Lane. She did, quickly leaving the town behind to find a more residential area.

  Lights filled quite a few of the homes, even at this late hour. And not dim lights either. She saw the blue flicker of a television through one window.

  Clearly, that cop had been wrong. She squinted as she thought about how the gates had been rusted and overgrown with vines. And, she’d thought, locked.

  But they had swung open, so maybe that was all a ruse. Maybe everyone who lived here had a clicker that opened them.

  If that was true, they should clean those gates more often, because they looked like they’d been abandoned to time and the weather decades ago. Unless that was intentional.