Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
We leave through the main door. The path that was cracked and bumpy last night is smooth at our feet. I can’t believe that was only last night. So many things have already happened. No wonder my head feels like it’s going to explode.
Owen takes one step for every three of mine. I try to widen my stride, but I slip and almost pull a muscle. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the hellhound’s lips twitch as he represses a laugh. Thankfully, the big oaf slows down.
As I walk normally, each step I take is lighter.
The air smells sharp and crisp, a far cry from the pollution in the real world.
If I relax my eyes, tiny floating filaments spark and crackle with magic.
Full of energy. This pocket realm is more real to me than the world I come from.
Everything around me buzzes with magic. The feeling of being home thrums through me.
It builds up through my legs and zings into my chest.
Home.
“Do you feel welcomed, as if you have come home?” I ask him.
“Peaceful. There’s a level of safety here that I haven’t felt before. Welcomed, yeah, but not like I’ve come home. Is that what you’re feeling?”
“Yeah, it’s weird.” I rub my chest. “I’ve never felt it before.”
“But—” He stops his words and rubs the back of his neck.
“What?”
“Well, you are from a big coven. Don’t you feel like that when you go to your Mum’s?”
I laugh. It sounds bitter to my ears, and I shake my head. Without thinking, I overshare. “I’m the coven’s embarrassment. The lack of my power rubbed my parents the wrong way.” I inwardly groan. I’ve said too much. The hellhound is practically a stranger, and worse, my dad sent him to help me.
It’s my turn to awkwardly rub the back of my neck. He must think I’m a proper cow. “It was my fault. I was… urm… a troublesome child.” I shrug and fake a smile.
The hellhound narrows his eyes. I trust Owen, and I have a huge crush on him, but he’s friends with my well-respected dad. I don’t even want to go near who he’d believe if I told him the truth.
Nah, even I wouldn’t believe it. Reputations are broken in moments, and with a little digging, he’d find mine is way past the dust age. Broken and ground so fine, it’s just sand. I am seen as beyond nothing. A day of being a fantastical host doesn’t change any of that.
I will always be the defective witch.
A small sigh of pain slips from my lips and I pull at a piece of rock that’s embedded itself into the fabric of my jogging bottoms. I’m a nice person—unless I am channelling my mother—and if there’s one thing creatures don’t understand, it’s niceness. It freaks them right out.
But it doesn’t matter if you are a nice person when your entire coven thinks you are a waste of space.
That is why I am terrified for him to get a full look at the person I am.
He will be appalled and will no doubt walk away like everyone else.
I thought I got over this. I know better than to live in the past. Now there’s an awkward silence between us.
The path changes to a crunchy golden stone.
It’s the real fancy stuff I admired at a country estate.
My eyes drift across the empty car park.
It seems bigger than it did last night and there’s a signpost that wasn’t there yesterday, directing people to a leisure centre, to the swimming pool and gym.
Crikey, there is also a sign for the stables. Heh, I can’t remember that one.
Something nags at me, something is missing… My eyes scan the empty car park.
Oh. Hang on a minute. The car is missing! “The hire car is gone,” I squeak. “I was thinking about sending it back… Did I?” Oh heck, what did I do with the car? I bounce from foot to foot. Goodness gracious, if that happened, this place is even more dangerous than I thought.
Owen frowns and fishes out his phone. It appears tiny in his hand. I don’t know how he doesn’t press all the buttons at once, his fingers are so big.
I can’t even bloody think without the magic doing something wacky.
Stop doing that, I internally whisper. The breeze playfully tugs at my hair, and I stare at the crunchy stone underneath my trainers.
If it’s listening to my thoughts, then it can listen to this.
If I need your help, I will ask, but you need to stop reacting to my every thought.
It’s creepy. I may not be talking to you, so double check first, yeah?
Thank you for being so smart and helping me, but just ask or wait until I’m more direct.
Okay? It’s freaky. You are freaking me the hell out.
And now, now I’m going crazy.
“The car is back at the hire company. It appeared out of nowhere with the keys in the ignition.” Owen lifts his sparkling eyes from the phone and raises an eyebrow.
“Oh.” My hands flop about in a “what can I do?” gesture.
“Handy, eh?” he says with a grin and a friendly nudge that makes my silly heart flutter.
“Very,” I mumble.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I desperately search for a change of subject.
“Urm, do you like being a hellhound?” I blurt out.
Yeah, hit him with a nice simple question.
I roll my eyes. I guess I want to know more about this man.
He has this whole masculine energy thing going on, yet his kindness seeps through. It is a heady combination.
Owen tips his head to the side in contemplation and we continue walking.
“Yes, I enjoy stopping the bad guys and helping people. It’s not a nine-to-five job, and a time or two, things have got so hairy, I didn’t think I’d make it.
I miss being out in the field with the lads.
I’ve been watching Forrest’s back in Ireland and that girl…
” He smiles. My heart squeezes in disappointment that the smile isn’t for me.
“She can get herself into a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Forrest again. Not only do they work together and have a relationship where he can guarantee her help without having to ask, but he also drinks what I’m guessing is her favourite drink.
No way I can compete with a friendship like that.
My heart sinks and I force my face into a normal expression.
Jealousy doesn’t suit me. I have lost the plot. The sooner this guy leaves, the better.
“I’ve never been so busy. I don’t regret what I am, what I’ve done.
It’s in my blood. The only thing I regret is not getting to a bad situation quicker, being too slow to save an innocent.
That can eat you up if you let it. When you see the worst in people over and over again, it gets old.
It gets old real fast. I guess I have always been destined to be a soldier. ”
It’s his calling. I can appreciate that.
His honesty floors me. I was lucky to have lived a privileged life for as long as I have.
I might have been an outcast, but at least I was safe.
The horrible things Owen must have seen, had to do.
Yet, he’d do it all again to keep people safe.
The hellhound is a hero. I reach over and rub his forearm, and he smiles at me.
With an oof of surprise spilling from my lips, Owen pulls me to his side and wraps his heavy arm around me.
I dip my head to hide my smile. Only friends, my inner voice screams. He is out of your league.
With that single thought, the smile is wiped from my lips.
I can do friends. I can push my feelings away and be friends with this man.
It’s not his fault that I am hopelessly in love with him.
When we come to a turn in the path, I take the chance to slip from underneath his arm. It is the right thing to do.
It isn’t until we walk for a while that I realise something else is making me uneasy, and I take a few minutes to pinpoint exactly what it is. There aren’t any birds or insects. No signs of life. There is only the sun and the breeze.
The tickle of wind and the squeak of the branches from the trees above us, along with our footsteps, are the only sounds. Wow, it’s freaky. Now I recognise it, the environment around us is so fake, and unsettling.
Like we are strolling through virtual reality.
I close my eyes and ask the magic to fix that.
I don’t want this place to feel odd. There is already the fake sun and weather.
I open my eyes to see a fat bumblebee buzz pass my nose and a monarch butterfly settles on a patch of bluebells underneath the trees.
I don’t know if they would be about this time of year, but they aren’t real, and it’s not like I’m going to create a hard frost and kill them. They are perfect.
A giggle escapes me as a bluebottle smacks against Owen’s cheek. He frowns. “Your handiwork, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“I like it.” He rubs his face. “Perhaps not the kamikaze bluebottles, but I like the signs of life.”
When we turn the corner, and the trees fall away, the path slopes down towards the lake.
I stand and take in the view. The lake is huge, and it is so much bigger than what it appears to be from the hotel.
There are a dozen or so ducks, noisily quacking.
I smile as we get closer and I watch a duck bob upside down in the water, his bum bobbing up and down as he snatches at some duck delicacy below.
“Do you want to go out on the lake?” Owen asks.
“Huh?” I eloquently reply. My full attention is now on a male mallard duck who is chasing the females around and getting nowhere. They are so lifelike. It’s kind of like I ate the red pill and I’ve joined the Matrix.
“The boat,” Owen says, giving me a gentle nudge. His big hand points to a pale blue rowboat that’s moored to the side of a quaint wooden dock.
“Oh, I’d love to. I’ve never been in a rowboat before.” I clap my hands and bounce on my toes. I’m excited to explore the lake that spreads endlessly before us.
Owen grins as he holds the wooden boat steady and with a hand, he helps me in.
The boat doesn’t dare move an inch with the big hellhound gripping it.
Once I am sitting, Owen gets in, showing for a big guy he has the balance of a fighter.
He settles on the bench seat opposite me and unties the rope, flinging it onto the dock so it doesn’t get wet.
He then picks up the wooden oars. I nod with encouragement as he digs them into the water.
That’s when things get a little confusing, a little bit strange. The boat bounces forward and then lists to the side. It circles back to the dock and bumps into it.
Wood grinds against wood and the oars splash.
They splash a lot.
Owen swears under his breath. Don’t you dare laugh.
I suck both of my lips into my mouth and bite down as we continue to go around in a weird circle.
Don’t you dare laugh. I rest my elbows on my knees and politely pretend to watch the ducks.
The poor guy doesn’t need me staring at him as he increasingly gets more and more frustrated.
I casually slap my hand across my mouth to hold in the laughter that is trying to bubble out.
After about five minutes of him rowing and a pool of lake water at my feet, I must ask him. “Owen, have you ever rowed before?” I mumble the burning question through my hands.
Don’t you dare laugh.
He must have, right? Owen’s ancient. He is from a time long before modern technology. Perhaps he has forgotten?
Owen growls down at the oars. He tightens his grip, the muscles in his forearms tense, and the wood creeks. I think any normal oar would have shattered with the pressure he is exerting. He sighs and lifts his head. He gazes back at me, his grey eyes earnest.
“Well, um… I’ve used the rowing machine in the gym.”
That’s it. I lose it. Laughter rips out of me, and I’m howling.
The man is adorable.
“I thought it would be easy.”
Tears stream down my face, and the boat rocks violently as Owen’s laughter joins mine.
“Y-you’ve used the rower at the gym!” I gasp out.
Laughing so hard, I have to hold my abdomen as it’s hurting.
“Oh, Owen,” I say when I can. I wipe my eyes.
“I needed that. Thank you.” I beam a smile at him, so big my cheeks hurt.
He blinks at me with a stunned expression.
“I like it when you are happy,” he says gruffly.