Chapter Twelve #3
Xander tries to run a hand through his hair, but it gets caught on the tiny neon hair ties.
He pulls out the first one. “I’m sorry, Pip, but I can’t.
I’m negotiating a snow removal contract with the landscapers tomorrow.
Apparently, we’re already disastrously behind in setting that up, and the fees for ordering salt last minute are ridiculous. ”
“You don’t need to hire mundanes for snow removal. I can set up sigils in the driveway that will melt it for you.”
“Really?” Xander’s eyes light up, and he pulls another of the elastics out of his hair.
I brush the crystal shards into a pile on the table. “They’d need to be refreshed occasionally, but it works great. That’s what I use for the sidewalk outside my office.”
Xander pulls the final elastic out and runs his hand through his hair. “We can’t afford to hire another witch to renew sigils for us.”
“I could do it,” I offer, but he’s already shaking his head.
“You’re already doing so much for us. I can’t ask you to drive all the way out here when the weather is bad.” He smiles at me, like his words are meant to be a gift, but it feels like a black hole has opened in my chest. “Lou and I will figure something out with the landscapers.”
He stands and circles around the table, pausing to kiss the top of my head. “I’m going to wash this off and get some sleep. Five-year-olds are exhausting.”
“Of course.” I watch him leave, that black hole consuming my chest. It shouldn’t feel like rejection.
He’s right that driving out here at a moment’s notice all winter isn’t sustainable.
It’s a long drive, and if the B&B is successful, it’s not like there will be an open room for me to crash in if the weather turns bad.
So why do I feel like I need to cry?
I press the heels of my hands against my closed eyes to ward off tears.
I’ve spent too long trapped in one room, fighting with glue guns and breaking apart crystals.
That’s all this stupid emotion is. That’s all it’s allowed to be.
I need a change of scenery. I need real food instead of subsisting on the snacks I picked up on my errands yesterday.
Outside my room, the only sound in the manor is Xander’s shower.
I should have taken a picture of him all dolled up by his nieces.
It would have been perfect for friendly blackmail.
The stairs creak in a few places as I head to the main floor, and I pause to trace quieting sigils on each squeaky step.
Xander may not want my help with this place—beyond haunting it—but I still feel called to care for it.
On the main floor, I find myself drawn to the library, lured by the idea of getting lost in a good book.
With each step, my mind populates with additional magical adjustments I could make to the B&B.
Spells to repel dust. Amazonite embedded into doorframes to promote harmony.
Mahogany obsidian above each window to ward off pests.
A custom-designed welcome sigil woven into the doormat.
This place could drip with magic alongside the ghosts.
I stumble to a halt in front of the welcome desk, my mind racing with ideas. Could I spell the house itself so the ghosts inside are always visible? Always audible? Could I find a way to make them semi-corporeal?
Not the whole house, I reason, my feet moving again as I make my way toward the library. Maybe the first floor? Or one specific room?
I reach the library and feel for the light switch…
“Fucking hell!” I clutch my hand over my thundering heart as the figure in front of the French doors whirls around to face me. “What are you doing standing in the dark?”
“Nothing.” Elle turns away from me, but she can’t hide the rawness in her voice. Can’t hide the way she wipes her sleeves across her cheeks.
“Elle?” I step deeper into the library. Despite my lingering irritation from our last encounter, a tender worry tugs at my heart. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. Wraps her arms around herself. Continues to stare out into the dark night.
I stop a few paces behind her and try again, gentler this time. “Elle, why were you hiding in the dark?”
“It wasn’t that dark when I first came in here.” Elle shrugs without losing her grip on herself. “The sun sets fast this time of year.”
“Hours ago, yeah.” I continue forward until I’m level with her. I stare out the glass doors, but I can see her profile in my peripheral vision. Her cheeks are blotchy and red. “Please don’t pretend nothing’s wrong. You’re obviously upset.”
She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and tips her head toward the ceiling. Presses her eyes closed. I haven’t known her long, haven’t seen her like this before, but I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
“You were upset the other day, too. The night we got high and—” I swallow down the strongest memories of that night. Talking about our pasts. The flirting edge to her words that I’m not sure was real or imagined.
“And played Xander’s game,” I finally finish.
“Really, it’s nothing. Family stuff,” she says, her voice steadier this time. “Besides, I know I was a pain in the ass the other day. I don’t deserve your concern.”
“You do realize concern isn’t supposed to be conditional, right? Even assholes deserve basic kindness.”
Elle grimaces. “I was an asshole, wasn’t I? I’m sorry for making your job harder.”
You promised to give me the benefit of the doubt.
“And I’m sorry for not trusting that you had your reasons.
” I turn and lean my hip against the wall, the cold from the stone biting through my clothes.
“I don’t suppose you care to share those reasons?
” I ask, and the way she avoids my gaze is answer enough.
“What about why you’re hiding out in the dark?
Do you have vampire tendencies I should know about? ”
Elle sighs and finally releases the death grip she has on herself. “I knew Alex would be home soon, and I didn’t want him to hear me…being upset.”
“Well, that’s easily solvable.” I force levity into my expression simply because it seems like she needs it. I trace a concealment sigil in the air and form the barrier into a bubble around us.
“What was that?”
“Magical soundproofing.” I lean back and yell as loud as I can. “Granted, I think Xander’s in the shower, but even if he were in the room with us, he wouldn’t have heard a peep.”
One corner of her lips quirks up. “That’s some serial killer shit, Pippa.”
“It is not!” I say, but I’m smiling for real now, and my heart soars when she matches the expression. “You listen to too much true crime.”
“You can’t tell me a serial killer wouldn’t love to have a spell like that on hand. They wouldn’t have to use abandoned warehouses or reinforced basements for their murdering.”
“Now you sound like you have bodies stashed somewhere.”
Elle shrugs, but there’s a new weight in her gaze alongside the teasing. “Who’s to say? Maybe I do.”
I step closer until she has to tip her chin up to meet my gaze. “We should fill the B&B with the ghosts of your victims. Perhaps they’ll meet your standards.”
All the humor falls from her face as she looks away, and I’m stabbed with regret. “Elle. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it was a fair shot. I am sorry about Friday…and for avoiding you all weekend.” She rubs her hands along her arms, like she’s suddenly cold. “I haven’t acted like it, but I do realize how fucking incredible you are.”
Her words hook into my ribs, stealing my breath. Is she…
“I never meant for you to feel like I take you for granted,” she continues, the shadow of a smile flourishing into something mischievous and heated. “I don’t actually plan to kiss your ass, though. That seems excessive.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease, caught up in a sudden boldness I have no right to feel. “I have a great ass.”
Elle’s gaze travels down the length of me, lingering on the curve of my chest before finally settling on my hips. Her pupils blow wide, darkening the green of her eyes. “I can’t say that I disagree.” She’s biting her bottom lip as she backs away. “See you in the morning, Pippa.”
And then she exits the library, leaving me parsing a double negative and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.