Mercy

By

Wendy Saunders

This book is the intellectual property of the author and as such cannot be reproduced in whole or in part in any medium without the express written permission of the author.

Copyright © 2015 Wendy Saunders

All rights reserved.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

DOREEN ARCHER 25TH MAR 1929- 22ND APR 2015

For my Nana, who taught me that love is the tie that binds the tightest.

Chapter 1

Welcome to Mercy, Massachusetts Pop. 13,623

Olivia sat staring at the sign through the intermittent swipes of her wiper blades. What… the hell… was she doing? Shaking her head she flicked the gear into reverse but still she paused, her lower lip caught in her

teeth and her brow folding into a frown. Letting the gear drop back into neutral she stared once again at the sign.

Her fingertips tapped out a thoughtful staccato on the steering wheel and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Why had she thought this was a good idea? She hadn’t set foot in Mercy since she was a child. After everything that had happened she’d done

the one thing she had sworn never to do. She had returned home. She was crazy for coming back; Mercy was a small town, with a small town’s mentality. It wouldn’t

be long before the town gossips started spreading the word that Olivia West had returned. Then all anyone would be talking about was how her father had murdered her mother.

She let her head fall back against the headrest of her seat and her hands drop from the steering wheel as she listened to the engine idling quietly and the rhythmic tapping of the rain.

She should just put the car in reverse and leave now. Except, she released a slow breath, she couldn’t. She could feel it even now, the low thrum of

power that pulled at her. Something was calling her back, she could feel it chilling her bones and whatever it was she was powerless to resist its call.

She scrubbed her hands over her face; she was so tired of arguing with herself. Opening her eyes Olivia noticed that although the rain had slowed, the sky was darkening and she couldn’t continue to sit parked at the side of the road all afternoon.

A sudden banging on her window had her biting back a scream as she saw the flashing police lights in her rear view mirror. Taking a deep breath to still her jumpy heart she wound down the window, blinking back the cold raindrops that bathed her face.

‘Ma’am’ The officer nodded, ‘Is everything all right?’ ‘Yeah,’ Olivia sighed, ‘Everything’s fine.’ Her eyes dropped to the badge pinned to his chest and noted the name ‘Deputy Walker’, her gaze

flickered back to his face, so open and earnest and young. Actually everything was pretty damn far from fine, but she wasn’t about to admit that to a complete stranger and a cop at that.

‘I’m afraid you can’t stop here.’ He offered with an easy smile as the rain dripped from the rim of his hat.

‘I know,’ She murmured. ‘Do you need any assistance?’ ‘No,’ Olivia’s mouth curved as she looked up at him, ‘Just a backbone.’ ‘Ma’am?’ ‘I’m just about to head into town.’ She straightened in her seat, ‘thanks for checking on me.’ ‘No problem,’ he nodded, ‘you be sure and drive safe, the road ahead is slippery.’ ‘You have no idea,’ Olivia murmured as she watched him return to his car. Putting the car into drive she eased forwards and took a deep breath. About half a mile down the

road she started hitting the outskirts of the town and it was as if she’d just stepped back in time. The place had barely changed, the Dunkin’ Donuts was new, but Walkers Auto was still there, as

was the Sidecar Diner. Shaking her head lightly as a small smile played on her lips she passed the library and headed east onto Walnut drive and then north onto Maple St.

1

Well there was no turning back now. No matter how much she didn’t want to there was one stop she needed to make before she headed up to the Stick house.

Slowing down she pulled up to the curb, her heart was pounding now and there was a low pitched buzzing in her ears. Climbing out of the car, she pulled her jacket tighter against the wind noting that the rain had started to pick up again.

The ground almost seemed to ripple beneath her feet as she took a tentative step forwards. There was the empty lot, sandwiched between two houses, where her home had once stood. She’d ridden her little red bicycle on this very sidewalk, rolled across the lawn with her faithful dog Truman. She’d sat out on the back stoop on clear nights and watched fascinated as her father had pointed out the constellations.

She took another step closer and the memories washed over her in waves. Unaware of the downpour and the fact she was now soaked to the skin, she moved closer to the lawn.

The house was long gone, it had burned to the ground the night her mother died and it seemed no one had bothered to re-build it.

But, she noted curiously, someone had gone to the trouble to care for the lawn and plant a beautiful garden. Even this late in the year it still burst with colours so vivid, it was like she had stepped inside an oil painting.

The persistent buzzing in her ear had now become a low murmur pushing her on, urging her forwards. It was as if the ground itself were trying to speak to her.

Stepping onto the lawn everything suddenly changed. The air filled with the acrid smell of burning. The daylight faded along with the rain; instead the

night air was heavy with thick black oily smoke that filled her mouth and throat. The house in front of her burned hotter than any fire she had ever known. The windows melted and dripped down the front of the building like dirty great tears.

Watching helplessly, she saw the roof collapse inwards with a loud splintering, throwing burning dust and ash into the choking air. The wall of heat in front of her was too much. Her skin felt too tight and her eyes stung causing her to take an involuntary step back.

The second her foot hit the sidewalk the flames disappeared and she once again felt the clean fat drops of rain dripping down the neck of her jacket. The daylight returned, hidden beneath the heavy grey skies and once again the little garden smiled at her.

She knelt and pressed her hand into the wet soil, this time she felt rather than witnessed the violent echo of fire and flame. She drew in a shaky breath her fingertips clutching involuntarily and digging into the mud.

The garden was an illusion, beneath its pretty mask the stench of blood and ash still lingered. It was as if the ground itself was scarred from that night.

Straightening up and taking another step back her heart began to slow to its usual pace and the whispering in her ears subsided until once again all she could hear was the clatter of rain against the sidewalk.

‘Olivia?’ Her name was a startled whisper upon the wind. She turned and her penetrating gaze fell upon a small familiar woman about her age. Her vivid blue

eyes were wide with shock and the blonde hair that had escaped her hood was plastered wetly to her pale heart shaped face. A face Olivia knew very well.

A small smile curved the corner of Olivia’s mouth. ‘Hello Louisa,’ she murmured. The breath whooshed out of her as she found herself caught up in a tight hug. Louisa couldn’t

have been more than five two but the woman was a lot stronger than she looked. ‘My God, Olivia,’ Louisa breathed, taking a step back. Although she’d released her from the hug

she’d grasped Olivia’s hand, almost to reassure herself that she was real and not a ghost. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you.’

‘I’m surprised you recognised me,’ Olivia tilted her head regarding her childhood friend curiously; ‘It’s been twenty years.’

Louisa’s eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. ‘What is it?’ Olivia smiled, ‘do I look that bad?’

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‘We thought you were dead,’ she whispered shaking her head. ‘After what happened to your mother and the house burning, no one would tell us what had happened or where you were.’

‘What?’ Her brown eyes folded in confusion, ‘Jake and I kept asking Mom and Dad what had happened to you and we were just told you were

gone. They made it sound as if you were in the house so we assumed you died in the fire and no one bothered to correct us. Even the people in town who didn’t stop gossiping for months didn’t seem to know what had happened to you.’

‘That’s weird,’ Olivia chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘I mourned you,’ her breath caught in her throat, ‘every damn day.’ She could feel the hurt and confusion pouring off her friend in waves and so she did the only thing

she could, she wrapped her arms around her awkwardly and hugged her back. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself to be this close to someone and she was a little rusty.

‘Olivia,’ Louisa sighed her name and in that one moment, that one expression, Olivia was transported back to her childhood and the deep loving bond they’d shared. This was why she’d come back, because whether she liked it or not this was the one place that had always been home.

‘Where have you been?’ Louisa pulled back. ‘Everywhere’ she shook her head, ‘nowhere’, and chuckling self-depreciatingly she added ‘and

every place in between.’ Then she shrugged ‘it’s complicated.’ ‘Why don’t you come in for a coffee?’ Louisa nodded her head towards the cute little two storey

house with its cheerful blue doll house shutters, opposite the place where her parent’s house had once been.

‘You’re not still living with your parents?’ ‘No,’ Louisa chuckled, ‘I’ve got my own little place in town. My parents are on vacation. I just stop

by and check the mail, water the plants that sort of thing.’ ‘I can’t,’ Olivia shook her head. ‘It’s getting late and I need to get to the Stick House and sort

everything out, I don’t even know if the electric’s still on.’ ‘The Stick House?’ Louisa repeated slowly. ‘That’s where you’re staying?’ ‘Yeah,’ she nodded, ‘Aunt Evie left it to me in her will.’ ‘I heard about Evelyn, I’m sorry.’ ‘Don’t be, I’m not even sure why she left me the house.’ ‘Why wouldn’t she?’ Louisa tilted her head in confusion, ‘she adored you.’ There was nothing she could say to that, even as close as she and Louisa had been when they were

children, she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth. Her aunt hadn’t wanted her. After the death of her mother and grandmother and the arrest of her

father, the authorities had contacted Evelyn as her only living relative but she had refused to take custody of Olivia.

The hurt had stung hot and bright at the time. She had only been eight years old and in one night she had lost her entire family and had been taken away from the only home she’d ever known. She’d thought her great aunt would come for her but she hadn’t wanted her. She supposed in hindsight she could understand. She had not only represented everything Evelyn had lost in her sister and niece, but also the man who had taken them from her. She was tainted by his blood, the blood of a murderer.

Shaking off her bleak mood she turned back to Louisa. ‘Who planted the garden?’ ‘We did,’ Louisa murmured, turning towards the garden in question. ‘My mom cried for days and days after it happened. I would find her standing at the window just

staring across the road at the hollowed out remains of your house, surrounded by crime scene tape. The days passed into weeks and months and when we realised no one was going to do anything about the house the whole neighbourhood came together and cleared the site. Then mom and dad planted a remembrance garden.’

‘That was good of them,’ Olivia replied quietly, her eyes lost in thought. ‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’ Louisa asked again. ‘You’re soaked to the skin and there’s so

much I want to talk to you about, so much I want to ask you.’ Olivia shook her head.

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‘I can’t, I really need to get up to the house.’ She squeezed Louisa’s hand once and stepped back, ‘it was good to see you.’

‘Olivia!’ She stopped and turned back to her friend. ‘Welcome home.’ Something inside her softened at the heartfelt sentiment. ‘Look,’ Olivia offered impulsively, ‘why don’t you give me a couple of days to settle in, then come

on up to the house and we’ll talk.’ ‘Do you mean it?’ ‘Yeah,’ Olivia smiled ruefully, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend and after a couple of days

back in this town, something tells me I’m going to need one.’ ‘Give me your phone,’ Louisa held out her hand. Olivia watched as she took her cell and punched her number into it. ‘There,’ Louisa smiled, ‘call me if you need anything.’ Olivia nodded in acknowledgment before turning and heading back to her car. While they had

been talking the rain had let up to a fine mist. The kind where you’re not actually sure it’s raining until you realise you’re wet to the skin. Still it was better than the downpour she driven into town in.

Sliding back into the driver’s seat she blew out a long breath, she’d relaxed in Louisa’s company for the first time in days. Louisa had always had that gift even when they were kids. She seemed to just radiate calm and tranquillity, a trait not shared by her younger brother Jake. He was only eleven months younger than she and Louisa, the three of them had been inseparable. They’d even had their own secret club. It was only now she realised how much she’d missed them.

She started the car and pulled away from the curb and suddenly the hot hard ball of awareness churned once again in her stomach. She was going back to the Stick house; once her most favourite place in the whole world. But after the last twenty years of pain and animosity she had no idea how she was going to feel when she walked through the door.

Part of her still couldn’t quite believe she was back in Mercy; she’d never had any intention of returning. She’d been happy in Providence, well if not happy certainly content.

So what if she’d skipped from town to town, county to county? From Lawrence to Georgetown, Philadelphia to Boston and New Hampshire to Rhode Island until she’d wound up in Providence, where she’d stayed the longest. A grand total of two years almost a record for her.

It had occurred to her that she could have chosen anywhere. With no ties she could have relocated to the west coast, soaked up the sun, learned to surf. Hell, she could have even jumped on a plane, travelled Europe. No, instead she’d subconsciously hovered around the outskirts of Mercy, never quite making that step to the one place she both loved and hated.

When she got the word her great aunt Evelyn had passed away she had grieved. Despite the bitterness and resentment between them, she’d hurt regardless. Evelyn had been the last one, the last of her family; she really was on her own now.

There wasn’t always such an estrangement between them. When she was a child she remembered Aunt Evie had always been so much fun; she’d loved going to visit her and her grandmother Alice. The sisters had always lived together in the Stick House on the lake. Her mother had taken her to visit every chance she could and they would swim in the lake. Nana Alice would always be baking cookies and Aunt Evie would be the one trekking through the woods with her, looking for herbs and flowers.

When the lawyer had finally tracked her down in Providence and she’d learned she’d inherited the Stick House, she’d opened her mouth to tell him to sell it but that wasn’t what came out. She’d taken the keys, she’d signed the papers and she’d packed up her banged up Camero and headed out. Unable to explain it, even to herself she knew that the time had come. She had to go back home.

The closer she’d got to town the worse the pull had become; even now it throbbed deep in her chest overruling the panic at the thought of being the subject of all the town’s gossip.

They wouldn’t see Olivia West successful historian and author, no; all they would see was the kid of a murderer. That was all anyone saw, it’s why she had bounced from foster family to group home and back again. After all no one wanted to adopt the child of a killer.

It had been twenty years since that night. She didn’t think about it, or rather she didn’t let herself think about it. This was such a bad idea, she should’ve just told the lawyer to sell the house and be done

4

with it. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The Stick House had been in her family since it was built in 1895 and before that the original house had been occupied by a West since the town was founded in 1698.

Damn her historian’s soul, she couldn’t bear to let her family history be passed on to a stranger. Maybe she could just become a recluse, barricade herself inside the house, get herself a couple of cats and order her groceries online.

She headed across town to the outskirts until she hit the edge of the woods and turned onto a dirt road. Everything looked so familiar that her heart clenched painfully; the last time she had been down this road she had been with her mother.

Forcing down the deep ache in her throat she blinked back the hot stinging in her eyes and focused on the road. The light was failing and although the rain had almost completely stopped the wind had picked up. Even with the windows rolled up she could hear the roar of it through the trees, slow and ponderous like a freight train and with every gust a myriad of coloured leaves broke upon her windshield like a wave, catching in the wipers.

Suddenly the canopy of trees parted and the house came into view. Cradled lovingly by the surrounding trees the house tugged at her. She stopped the car and gazed at the familiar steep gabled roof and overhanging eaves.

It was a Queen Anne, built in the Stick style which had led to it being affectionately nicknamed by the locals as the Stick House.

The house stood on the site of its predecessor, a wooden framed house built by her ancestor Hester West and her sister Bridget when they co-founded the town back in 1698.

The original West house was little more than a cabin and had nestled amidst the woods overlooking the lake until it was damaged by fire in the late 1800’s.

Her great grandmother had lived in the house back then and when disaster struck a friend of a friend by the name of Cyrus Winchell from Rockport, had pulled down the remains and built the Stick House in its place.

Local legend said that a West had lived on that land for the last three hundred years. Maybe that was why she found it so hard to let go or move on? She felt the bonds of blood and love and hate wrapped around her like vines, binding her to the land and to the house itself.

As she stepped out of the car and gazed up at the house the wind tugged and pulled at her, teasing her clothes and hair with sly spindly fingers. The hiss of the churned up leaves almost sounded as if the house itself was sighing, like it had been waiting for her.

Grabbing her bags from the car and the box of perishable food she’d brought from her apartment in Providence she started slowly up the steps towards the wraparound porch.

She pressed her hand against the door and took a deep breath. ‘This is my house now’ The old porch swing to her right suddenly moved in the wind, creaking loudly as a small wave of

leaves rustled across her feet in a mad tumble of yellow, red and gold. Feeling a prickle at the back of her neck and a heaviness settle between her shoulder blades she turned around, her gaze scanning the tree line, but nothing seemed to be out of place.

It was funny, she’d never been afraid of the woods or the seclusion as a child. It had always been a place of magic to her, but now standing on the porch looking out into the dying light she felt as if she were being watched.

Shaking off her uneasiness she fumbled in her bag for the set of keys the lawyer had given her and unlocked the door.

The air was still and silent as she stepped into the hallway. She could hear the shriek of the wind and the rustle of the leaves behind her but the house was still, like it was holding its breath. The dust sheets hung like great shrouds across the furniture, twitching slightly in the errant breeze which had followed in her wake.

As she dropped her bags and the box onto the floor just inside the threshold, the door clicked quietly closed behind her leaving her in the oppressive stillness.

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She wandered slowly down the hall. Her heels clicked ominously against the parquet flooring and her fingertips lightly pulled the dust sheets from mirrors and framed pictures, letting them drift ghost-like to the floor, setting dust motes spinning madly in the dying light like tiny fairies.

Reaching out she flicked at the light switch but nothing happened. She tried it a couple more times before sighing. Obviously she would have to call the electric company… first thing tomorrow she realised glancing down at her watch; it was later than she thought.

Making her way through to the kitchen she almost smiled at the dark cherry wood cabinets and worn rose coloured walls, some things never changed no matter how many decades passed. Rummaging through the drawers she finally managed to locate a torch but when she flicked it on it sputtered once or twice and went dead. Nana Alice had always griped at Aunt Evie for forgetting to change the batteries in things. Another quick search had revealed no spare batteries and the light was now all but gone.

Muttering under her breath Olivia stumbled back through the now darkened house towards the library. Opening the door she felt a rush of recognition that gripped her by the throat in its familiarity. Despite the darkness, the feel and smell of the room was so strong she almost expected her grandmother to be sitting in the worn high-backed chair by the window.

Wandering to the mantle over the fireplace she reached blindly for the candlesticks her grandmother had always kept there, hoping her aunt hadn’t moved them.

A small smile curved her lips as her fingertips grazed the cool metal of the candlestick and traced upwards along the smooth scented wax. Taking a deep breath Olivia blew slowly and deliberately at the wick, her breath warm. It burst cheerfully into flame, hiccupping and dancing merrily, bathing her face it its warm glow.

Olivia’s gaze slid to the opposite end of the mantle where the candlestick’s twin waited sedately. Once again Olivia drew in a breath feeling the warmth and heat gather in her throat as she blew gently against the wick. But this time she felt the heat radiate outwards, rippling like the surface of a still pond once a small pebble has breached the surface, and each candle carefully placed around the room ignited, simultaneously illuminating the room in a soft warm glow.

Holding her hand close to the flame as if she were coaxing a small skittish animal she watched as the flame bobbed on the wick a couple of times before tipping onto her fingertips. It danced along her skin until the naked flame sat in her palm.

It didn’t burn it just felt warm and a bit tingly. She studied the flame, her gaze tracing the fine threads of gold, red and orange that made up its substance, as the memory of her grandmother’s voice whispered at the edge of her mind.

‘Fire, little one, is the first skill learned and the last lost…’ The flame roared to life in her palm and Olivia smiled, fortunately for her it was also her strongest

skill. The power pulsed along her skin and the fiery threads wound down deep into her flesh like the roots of an ancient tree, separate but also very much a part of her. Dropping to her haunches she blew against the flames in her hand watching them scatter across the fireplace in a rush of heat, igniting the dry logs and roaring to life.

Satisfied the fire had caught she stood and as she did her gaze caught on a silver framed picture of a familiar face.

Olivia sucked in a sharp and painful breath, feeling her heart pounding in her ears as she reached out to grasp the cool frame.

The night her mother had died she had been dragged away from Mercy and her home with nothing but the clothes on her back. She didn’t even own a photograph of her mother. For the last twenty years her mom had existed only in the memory of a traumatised eight year old child.

Tracing shaky fingers across the glass she gazed upon the face of her mother for the first time in twenty years and found her memory was a pale grey spectre when compared to the real thing. Seeing her mom smile back at her through the lens of the camera, frozen in that one moment of time, caused a deep ache in her chest. She had been so young, so vibrant, and completely unaware of the violence and tragedy which awaited her.

Olivia tried to swallow past the hot hard lump burning at the back of her throat, but as she tore her gaze away her eye caught her own reflection in the mirror and she realised for the first time, how much she looked like her mother. It was not just her long dark wavy hair or her whiskey coloured eyes but her face, the shape of her nose, the curve of her jaw. She was the spitting image of her mom, no

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7

wonder she thought with a heavy heart, no wonder her Great Aunt hadn’t wanted her, she probably couldn’t bear to look at her.

The sudden wrench of grief and hurt drove her to her knees in front of the fire, her legs collapsing from under her as she clutched the picture to her chest and rocked back and forth. The tears came hot and fast as she allowed herself to finally do the one thing she had held back since she drove into town, she curled into a tight ball of misery and wept bitterly.

She couldn’t say when she fell into an exhausted sleep, but her dreams were filled with flame and ash and dust. The house burned around her, she could hear it groan as timbers splintered and gave way. Her father’s face stood above her, cold and malicious as he clutched a knife in his hand smeared with her mother’s blood. Turning away from that dreadful image she could see the crumpled form of her grandmother in the corner of the room, lying in a pool of blood, her dress on fire as she was consumed by the inferno.

The flames licked against her skin and she shivered. Her brow folded into a confused frown, the flames should have burned but instead they were cold. She shivered again and her breath was expelled from her mouth as a fine mist. Suddenly her body was wracked by a deep shudder and her eyes opened on a gasp.

It took her a moment to realise where she was. Unfolding her stiff limbs she pulled herself up from the rug. The fire had now burned down to embers and all the candles in the room had gone out. Looking up into the dim light she realised the window was wide open, the curtain billowed ghostly white in the freezing night air.

Frowning to herself she limped over to the window and leaned out. The cloud cover had burned away from the earlier storm and the night air was crisp, clear and freezing. The moon split the sky like a huge silver disc reflecting upon the surface of the lake and bathing the surrounding forest with its ethereal light.

Shivering she closed the window and flicked the lock. Strange, she thought to herself, she couldn’t recall opening the window. Turning her back on the window she felt the familiar prickle down her spine and she couldn’t shake the earlier feeling of being watched.

Convinced it was just the stress of being back in this house and being overtired from the emotional upheaval and physical strain of the long drive here she moved back into the room. Her intention was to crawl into one of the beds upstairs regardless of whether they had any sheets on or not but she froze mid step.

The photo which had caused her so much grief no longer lay upon the rug in front of the fireplace where she had left it but instead rested sedately once more upon the mantle, looking for all the world as if it had never been moved.

Chapter 2

You would be forgiven for thinking The Salted Bone had been transplanted straight across the Atlantic from Ireland. Never mind that it had stood in some shape or form in the very heart of Mercy for over three hundred years. It may have transformed from a barn to a rowdy tap room, then to a coach house before finally morphing into its current incarnation of a traditional Irish pub but one thing was for sure if you ask any patron they will all tell you the same thing, that a Murphy had stood at the helm since the town’s founding.

Now Jackson Murphy may not have been born in Mercy but his mother had been. Alison Murphy had been a beautiful young thing with hair the colour of Molasses and a light

dusting of freckles. She and her brother Malachi had inherited the pub after a tragic accident took their parents.

Malachi had run the pub with love and contentment whilst she had waited tables. That was until one stormy night in 1982 when the rain had blown in a young Irish backpacker by the name of Colin O’Grady.

A devilishly handsome young lad with Kerry blue eyes and midnight hair, with a quick wit and even quicker smile, it was love at first sight for the fair Alison and the intrepid Colin. It had been quite the scandal when the young lovers lit out in the middle of the night, married under the bright lights of Vegas and settled back in Ireland with Jackson born not six months after the ink was dried on the marriage license.

Malachi would not speak of his sister or the shame she had brought upon his family and yet when he had been diagnosed with cancer he had named his nephew the sole beneficiary to his estate which included the pub, with only one condition. That Jackson changed his name to Murphy.

Malachi eventually met his maker and Jackson hopped across the pond, so to speak, with his father’s inky black hair, blue eyes and infectious smile. He ran the pub with the same ease and contentment his uncle had and once again life at The Salted Bone settled back into its usual routine.

It had been a quiet evening, unusually quiet. The air was crisp and the leaves tumbled, restlessly whispering to themselves on the cold October wind.

Jackson hummed quietly to himself while he dried another glass and stacked it with the rest. He could have said it was the bell above the door that had first alerted him to his newest patron or simply his habit of watching the entrance but the truth was he’d have known without looking when she’d walked in the door. There was an aura about her; the air almost seemed to crackle with electricity in her wake.

Oh yes, that one was a firecracker he thought to himself. His sharp blue eyes watched her scan the room curiously before landing on him. A wary smile

graced her lips as she wandered casually over and slid onto a stool at the end of the bar. ‘Evening darlin’,’ his mouth curved into his trademark smile, ‘What can I get you this fine autumn

eve?’ ‘A beer please,’ she replied, charmed by his lilting west country brogue, ‘whatever you’ve got on

tap will be fine.’ ‘A woman after me own heart,’ ‘With a smile like that I imagine you have half the women in town after your heart.’ ‘Oh darlin’ if only that were true,’ he grinned, ‘but it’s not usually me heart they’re after.’ ‘I’ll bet,’ she laughed. ‘You new in town then?’ He passed her glass across the scarred wood bar, ‘visiting or just passing

through? ‘Neither,’ she shook her head, ‘I just moved back, I live up at the Stick House.’ ‘Ah,’ he nodded in recognition, ‘so you’d be a West then?’ ‘Olivia,’ she smiled offering her hand.

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‘Jackson Murphy.’ He shook it then resumed wiping down glasses. ‘I was very fond of your Evelyn West, she’d come in every Sunday for a pot roast and a Guinness.’ ‘My Great Aunt,’ Olivia confirmed. ‘She and our own Owen rubbed along famously.’ ‘Owen?’ ‘Ah beggin’ your pardon of course you wouldn’t know who Owen is,’ he apologised. ‘Owen is our

cook, great brute of a man, given to fits of temper but he cooks like a dream so we make allowances for his poor social graces. But he and Evie got on like a barn on fire, they often traded recipes and such like.’

‘So the food here is good?’ Olivia picked up a menu and scanned down the list. ‘It is,’ Jackson smiled charmingly, ‘If I do say so myself. Do you have an appetite then Olivia?’ ‘I do,’ Olivia grinned back, ‘there’s very little that’s edible up at the stick house other than cereal

and coffee and I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.’ ‘Well then if I might, Owen’s beef stew is enough to make a grown man weep with gratitude, it

sticks to the ribs and has a fine flavour. Just the thing for a chilly October eve.’ ‘Sold,’ Olivia laughed, ‘anything I haven’t had to cook is a winner as far as I’m concerned.’ ‘Beef stew it is then,’ Jackson flagged down a pretty blonde waitress as she swung by with an

empty tray. ‘Shelley darlin’ a beef stew for our Olivia here.’ ‘No problem,’ she smiled as she dropped the tray down onto the bar, ‘Two cokes, a white wine

and a Guinness Jackson.’ He nodded as he lifted a glass down and began to build the Guinness slowly layer by layer. ‘So you new in town?’ ‘Old, just moved back,’ Olivia replied. ‘This is Evie’s great niece.’ ‘Really,’ Shelley replied speculatively, ‘Well welcome home.’ ‘Thanks,’ Olivia murmured. She hadn’t missed the look Shelley had given her, but if she did know anything about her family’s

past at least she was polite enough to keep it to herself. ‘No problem,’ Shelley nodded, ‘I’ll go get you that stew.’ ‘So, the accent,’ Olivia turned back to Jackson as he filled two glasses with coke and added a slice

of lemon to each, ‘Is it real?’ ‘Certainly it is.’ Jackson smiled, ‘my mother is American. She was born and raised here in Mercy

with my uncle. But she fell in love with my Da who was passing through on his travels and when he left she left with him. They still run a pub of their own back in County Clare.’

‘That’s sweet,’ Olivia propped her cheek on her fist, lulled by his accent. ‘So what brought you to Mercy?’

‘My Uncle died and left me the pub, so I thought it was time to try my luck serving my American cousins across the pond.’

‘How long ago was that?’ ‘Let's see now,’ his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, ‘must be over ten years now.’ ‘You must like it then.’ ‘Oh Aye,’ he murmured as his gaze flickered to the petite blonde swinging back through the door

to the kitchen carrying a tray of steaming stew, ‘there’s a lot to like.’ Olivia’s mouth curved slowly. ‘It’s a good thing it’s not your heart that the women of Mercy are after,’ she spoke softly as his

penetrating blue eyes landed on her sharply. ‘I get the feeling it isn’t free.’ ‘Well aren’t you the perceptive one,’ he murmured as he watched her thoughtfully. ‘So, you’ve a bit

of witch in you then?’ ‘Doesn’t everyone in Mercy,’ Olivia shrugged nonchalantly. ‘True,’ he grinned as Shelley approached. ‘Would you like a table?’ she asked. ‘Here’s fine,’ Olivia replied as Shelley slid the piping hot bowl onto the bar in front of her, along

with a plate of warm fragrant rolls and sparkling cutlery wrapped in a crisp white napkin. ‘God, that smells good,’ Olivia breathed deeply as the spicy scent rose from the dish in wispy little

tendrils.

9

‘Enjoy,’ Shelley smiled as she turned back to Jackson and began to load the drinks she’d ordered onto her tray.

‘Is Adam off his break yet?’ Jackson asked. ‘He’s just out back finishing his cigarette; he’ll be back in five.’ ‘Alright then, tell him I need a hand on the bar, the movie theatre will empty out in about half an

hour and it’ll start to pick up.’ She nodded, hesitating slightly. ‘What is it?’ he asked, catching her reluctance. ‘It’s just,’ She paused frowning, ‘Stu called, I can’t work this Thursday he needs me. Some work

thing with his boss.’ ‘This Thursday?’ Jackson replied evenly, his expression carefully neutral. ‘Yes,’ she replied miserably. ‘But you’ve spent months trying to book the band coming in on Thursday, they’re your favourite.’ ‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘But sometimes I need to put his feelings first, his career is important to him.’ ‘It seems to me that you do plenty for him, perhaps once in a while he could think of you.’ ‘He does,’ Shelley snapped defensively. ‘He’s not as bad as you think.’ ‘You really don’t want to know what I think,’ he murmured under his breath. ‘Can I have the night off or not,’ Shelley scowled at him. ‘The truth is I don’t know as I can spare you, it’s a live music night and we’re usually packed out.’ ‘My cousin Josie says she’ll cover for me,’ she replied tightly. ‘She worked in here during last

summer so she knows the ropes.’ ‘Fine,’ Jackson replied blandly. ‘Jackson I really am sorry,’ Shelley sighed. ‘I can’t please everyone.’ ‘No, I imagine not, but then I am the one that pays your wages.’ ‘Yes you are,’ she replied quietly, ‘but he’s the one I have to live with.’ Jackson watched silently as she picked up the tray and disappeared into the rapidly expanding

crowd, his jaw clenched and his eyes guarded. ‘You know,’ Olivia scoped another spoonful of stew into her mouth and swallowed, ‘sometimes it

can be helpful to unload onto a complete stranger.’ The corner of Jackson’s mouth curved into a smile as some of the amusement crept back into his

eyes. ‘If I was any kind of bartender worth my salt I would be saying such to you.’ ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ she smiled, ‘and if anyone asks I’ll swear blind you talked all my deepest

most miserable secrets out of me and I cried my heart out into this really excellent stew.’ The laugh caught them both by surprise as it bubbled out of Jackson, honest and unexpected. ‘I think I’ll enjoy your company Olivia West,’ he smiled. A sudden crash had them both turning their heads in the direction of the kitchen as a tall sandy

haired guy darted through the swinging door. ‘What the hell’s going on Adam?’ Jackson frowned. ‘You’d better go deal with Owen,’ Adam grinned as he lifted up the walk through and slid behind

the warm cherry wood bar, ‘He’s on a tear again.’ ‘What this time,’ Jackson rolled his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation muttering under his breath,

‘you’ll excuse me Olivia darlin’’ ‘Sure,’ she replied watching in interest as Jackson ducked under the bar and set off purposefully

towards the kitchen. ‘Can I get you another one?’ Adam asked her indicating her empty glass. ‘Better not,’ Olivia shook her head, appraising him silently, taking in his brown eyes and slim build.

Turning in the light she noticed a small tattoo of a four leafed clover on his neck and a silver St Christopher hung at his throat peeking through the open neck of his dark coloured shirt. ‘I still have to drive home, but I’ll take a coke.’

Adam nodded. ‘You local then?’ ‘I’m up at the Stick House.’ She replied, dusting the breadcrumbs from her fingers and stacking her

empty bowl on top of the bread plate.

10

‘The Stick House,’ Adam replied thoughtfully, ‘the big place in the woods by the lake?’ ‘That’s the one,’ She watched as he slid a glass of coke in front of her and scooped up her dirty

glass. ‘Wasn’t that Evie’s place?’ ‘Yeah,’ Olivia replied softly, ‘she was my Great Aunt.’ ‘Sorry to hear about her death,’ Adam answered. ‘Only met her a couple of times but I liked her.’ ‘Thanks,’ Olivia nodded, ‘so how about you?’ ‘Sorry?,’ ‘You from around here?’ She clarified. ‘All over but Ulysses Kansas originally.’ He wiped down the bar casually, ‘decided to travel a bit,

landed up in Mercy about six months back.’ ‘Hey Adam.’ A sassy redhead, slung an empty tray down on the bar with a wink, ‘Jack and coke,

white wine and two pints.’ He nodded and turned to grab a glass but his gaze continued to follow the redhead. Olivia sat

quietly sipping her coke as her eyes scanned the fairly busy pub. It was a warm welcoming place, with its dark polished wood trims everywhere, its almond coloured walls and small black and white checked tiles on the floor. Irish music played softly in the background; something complicated involving pipes and a fiddle which made you want to tap your foot without even realising it.

‘Good God, the man’s a menace,’ Jackson swung back through the doors and ducked back under the bar.

‘Crisis averted?’ Olivia’s mouth curved in amusement. ‘Of a kind,’ he shook his head ruefully. ‘Can I get you anything else?’ ‘No thanks,’ she replied, ‘I have to head back, I still have boxes of my aunt’s things to sort

through.’ She stood and brushed the crumbs from her jeans as she reached into her purse for her wallet. ‘It’s on the house,’ Jackson shook his head when she offered him a couple of bills. ‘Welcome

home Olivia.’ Olivia stood motionless for a heartbeat as she took in his sincere gaze and warm smile and felt the

simple warmth of an honest welcome spread through her. Maybe coming back to Mercy wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

‘Thank you.’ she murmured, watching him thoughtfully. ‘Don’t be a stranger Olivia love,’ Jackson grinned. ‘It’s too easy to stagnate in that big house,

rattling around by yourself.’ ‘I won’t,’ she chuckled lightly. ‘Bye Adam.’ He raised a hand in silent farewell as both he and Jackson watched her walk out the door. ‘Well she’ll make the place more interesting,’ Jackson mused. ‘You have no idea,’ Shelley dropped an empty tray down on the bar. ‘What do you mean?’ he frowned. ‘Olivia West and her parents are practically a legend in this town. About twenty years ago, her

daddy murdered her mama and his mama in law, Olivia’s grandmother Alice; she was Evelyn’s twin sister.’

‘Is that right?’ Jackson replied curiously. Shelley nodded. ‘Stabbed them both to death, right out of the blue, just snapped apparently. I knew her daddy; he

taught history at the high school, I was in his class. Funny, he never seemed the type. He was so quietly spoken, so nice.’

‘That’s what they say about some serial killers,’ Adam interjected as he wiped the bar down with a damp cloth.

‘I suppose,’ Shelley murmured, ‘anyway word is, when he realised what he’d done he burned down the house with the bodies inside and kidnapped Olivia who was only a kid at the time. I think he got as far as Boston or Philly before they picked him up. I don’t know what happened to either of them after that, but there was a lot of gossip going around Mercy High at the time.’

‘How come I’m only just hearing about this?’ Jackson frowned. ‘I’ve lived here nearly ten years.’ ‘People were encouraged to keep their mouths shut.’ Shelley shrugged.

11

‘Encouraged?’ Jackson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Evelyn didn’t like to hear people talking about her sister and her niece like that so she made it

known.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well let’s just say that bad things had a way of happening to people who gossiped about the Wests

after that.’ ‘This town and its superstitions,’ Adam snorted shaking his head as he began to unload glasses

from the dishwasher. ‘It’s not superstition,’ Shelley’s eyes narrowed in warning, ‘and if you’d been raised in this town you

would know that. After all it was founded by the survivors of Salem and the Wests are the oldest family in town.’

‘Witchcraft?’ Adam smiled in amusement. ‘Seriously you don’t buy into that crap do you?’ ‘I know enough to know when to keep my mouth shut,’ Shelley replied coldly. ‘So why are you opening it now, if something bad happens to anyone who talks about the

murders?’ He asked flippantly. ‘Evelyn’s not here anymore is she,’ Shelley replied. ‘You’re so full of bull,’ Adam snorted. ‘Save it for the tourists Shell, there’s no such thing as

Witchcraft.’ ‘It’d serve you right, if something bad happens to you,’ she hissed as she snatched up the tray and

sailed through the door into the kitchen. ‘You certainly have a way with women Adam,’ Jackson sighed. ‘Don’t tell me you believe in all that witch stuff, it’s just made up to encourage tourism, it’s just

legends and superstitions,’ he replied. ‘You forget I’m from Ireland which is full of magic and myth.’ Jackson’s eyes twinkled

mischievously. ‘While I may not share some of the local beliefs I respect their right to them. Just because I don’t believe something doesn’t make it any less real. Besides I’ve found that many legends and myths grew from a grain of truth, so who are we to say what is real and what is not?’

‘Very diplomatic,’ Adam laughed. ‘You can’t run a bar unless you have a lot of experience with patience and diplomacy,’ Jackson

smiled. ‘Don’t let it work you up Adam, let the locals believe what they want.’ Adam grunted noncommittally before moving down the bar to serve another patron, leaving

Jackson to sigh. He had a feeling it was just going to be one of those nights.

Olivia stepped out into the crisp autumn air watching as her breath was expelled as a fine mist. The temperature had dropped rapidly since she’d been inside the pub. She pulled her coat around herself tighter and made her way down the sidewalk to where she’d parked her car.

The wind picked up and pulled at her clothes and her hair. She wasn’t sure what made her glance up but as she watched the turbulent clouds part to reveal the full pregnant moon she noticed a hazy red ring encircling it. Her heart clenched unexpectedly and she felt her stomach drop. The only other time she had seen a red moon had been the night her mother died. It could only mean one thing, there would be blood spilled this night.

Suddenly uneasy she reached into her pocket pulling out her keys and quickened her pace but an uncomfortable prickling sensation at the back of her neck had her turning back to look.

A man was standing outside the pub leaning nonchalantly against the wall, watching her with dead looking eyes.

Olivia almost stopped in surprise as she took in his appearance. His clothes were dark and nondescript but his hair and his eyes were what had caught her attention. His hair was in complete contradiction to his face. It appeared to be pure white like a little old man but his face was younger and unlined and couldn’t be more than thirty years old. His eyes were also strange; so pale they seemed almost colourless, like those of a serpent.

Ignoring his penetrating gaze she turned away from him and hurried her pace. His eyes burned into her back and ghostly little fingers of unease crept down her spine causing a clammy sweat to form

12

in the hollow of her throat despite the cold night air. Reaching her car she fumbled with the lock, her breath hissing out in relief as the door opened.

She threw herself into the driver’s seat locking the door behind her. The pale coloured man didn’t move, he simply watched her silently and brazenly as she tossed her purse into the passenger seat, threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking space in a squeal of tyres.

Adam shrugged into his jacket, his eyes scanning the quiet pub and landing on his boss as he absently stacked stools on top of tables.

‘I’m off now Jackson,’ he caught his attention. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow; do you need me in early?’ ‘Nah,’ Jackson shook his head, ‘the usual time will be fine.’ ‘Alright I’ll see you then,’ Adam turned to leave. ‘Hold up a minute,’ Jackson called as he lifted the last stool and trotted over to the door, ‘Ted

Benson was in earlier and happened to mention that one of his tenants skipped out on him so he’s got a unit going free if you’ve had enough of living out of a motel. It’d probably work out cheaper.’

‘I don’t know,’ Adam frowned. ‘I don’t know if I’m going to stay yet.’ ‘Adam,’ Jackson laid his hand on the young guy’s shoulder. ‘You’ve been here six months now.

You’ve just bought yourself a car and don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Kaitlin have been sneaking off together every chance you get.’

‘So?’ ‘So maybe it’s time to take a chance and see what happens.’ Silence stretched out as Adam watched Jackson carefully. ‘Just think about it.’ Adam nodded as he shrugged off Jackson’s hand and stepped out of the side entrance which

opened out into a street across from the parking lot. Hearing the bolt shoot on the door behind him, he pulled up the collar of his jacket against the biting wind and set out across the street.

In his pocket his fingers curled around his car keys as he caught sight of the rusty red car parked opposite him in the lot. It may not be much but it was all his, it had felt good buying something of his own, even if it had been a piece of crap. Maybe he would think about renting one of Benson’s places. He’d lit out of his hometown when he was just sixteen, out from under the thumb of his stern Presbyterian father and his perpetually dissatisfied mother. He’d run as far and as fast as he could from his old life, from town to town for the last eight years. Maybe it was time he took a chance. After all there were worse places than Mercy.

He swung around the corner into the parking lot which was pretty much empty and headed towards his car. Kaitlin was cool after all, and to be honest hot as hell in bed. It must have been all that wild red hair, which matched her personality perfectly. He wasn’t sure what he felt for her but it was definitely something.

Unlocking the door he pulled it open and paused thoughtfully, maybe he would stay for a while. With that thought firmly in mind he resolved to call Benson in the morning.

Suddenly he felt himself being shoved forwards and his forehead cracked hard against the top of the door frame leaving a bright smear of blood against the rusty paint. His keys fell to the damp ground as he fell backwards feeling the crunch of the dirty gravel beneath him and then blackness took him.

The blackness wasn’t static though, it swirled and shifted, occasionally he caught a blur of colour or movement as he fought to regain consciousness. Small sounds filtered through, a car door slamming, the low hum of an engine, the roar of the wind through huge canopies of trees.

He slowly began to swim through layers of sensory input, gradually fighting his way back to consciousness; the first thing to jerk him towards the surface was the screaming pain in his shoulders. The damp smell of leaves and loam filled his nostrils as he could feel himself moving, being pulled along the ground. Now he understood why his shoulders hurt, his wrists were bound tightly and he was being dragged along the ground by his hands. The whole back of his body felt wet, the ground for the most part was soft except for the odd sharp dig which felt like a twig or a sharp stick. He must be in the woods and swallowing tightly he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred but he could make out half bare branches above him and every so often the moon would shine cold and bright as if it were watching

13

14

him impassively. Suddenly the momentum ground to a halt and his hands were dropped unceremoniously to the

mossy ground with a muted thud. Adam fought to focus, his vision swam in and out of focus but it was too dark to make anything out except for the dark figure looming over him. He tried to wiggle away but a foot appeared above his face and then the blackness took him again.

This time as he came to, gradually clawing his way through the layers of disorientation, he found himself bathed in very low pale light. A fine mist dampened his swollen face; he tried to swallow through parched lips but only tasted the metallic tang of blood. He tried to move his arms and legs but a searing pain shot through his limbs.

He lifted his head weakly and his eyes began to adjust to the dim light, which he realised was a circle of fat black candles whose flames coughed and spluttered in the rain. His gaze moved to his immobile body and found to his horror that not only were his wrists and ankles bound tightly with rope and staked to the damp muddy ground but that four evil looking meat hooks had been speared through his biceps and calves and planted into the ground, pinning him into place by his own hooked flesh.

Bile rose in his throat as he tried to cry out but his voice was too hoarse to carry through the deserted woods. The figure he had seen earlier stepped into the small circle of light but it was still not enough for him to identify his captor.

“Please.” His voice was half plea half whisper. The figure ignored him and began to murmur. Adam couldn’t understand the words being spoken.

It must have been the trauma or the shock but he could have sworn that his captor’s voice seemed strangely choral, as if more than one voice spoke at once but another glance around the clearing proved that there was no one else present.

Suddenly he felt fur brush against the side of his face and a faint growl but when he turned there was nothing there. The stranger stepped closer still, murmuring, hands outstretched over his body.

The pain when it came was fast and bright and like nothing he could describe, the scream that tore from his throat was almost silent. The pain started at his forehead and ran in a vertical line down his face, throat and torso, a continuous unbroken line until it hit his groin. A similar pain ran simultaneously along his arms and legs, a burning, searing pain that felt as if his skin was splitting open with surgical precision. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling and saturating his torn clothes.

His eyes dimmed and then suddenly locked on to a dog standing over him. It was much larger than any dog he’d even seen, standing nearly as tall as a man. Its ears were long and pointed, standing up straight and Egyptian-like and its black fur was matted and filthy revealing raw patches of flesh hanging from its skeletal ribcage. It had dead looking white eyes and its razor like teeth pulled back into a snarl. The face was gaunt and corpse-like as it growled low with a thread of drool handing from its bony jaw.

Suddenly Adam screamed, a horrible wet gurgling sound as the blood forced its way up his throat and flooded his mouth. He felt a tearing wrench and an awful splintering sound as his bones cracked and gave way and this time when the darkness took him, he welcomed it.

Chapter 3

The morning dawned crisp and clear despite the rain the night, before leaving an oppressive dampness on the cool air. Olivia stepped out of her car, pulled on her hat and slipped her hands into her gloves. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she locked the car and headed down the sidewalk. She could see the pub a block down and shook her head to dismiss whatever thoughts were swirling around her busy mind.

She felt a bit stupid that she had overreacted the night before. Sure the guy outside the pub had looked a bit creepy but there had been no reason to freak out the way she had. Maybe her agent Mags was right and she was turning into a recluse. An unconscious frown marred her brow as she tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. It was just that the nature of her work meant she often spent long stretches of time on her own writing and researching.

She was starting to get paranoid, first at the house feeling like she was being watched, then the night before when the guy outside the pub had done nothing more than look at her. She really needed to get out and socialise more she sighed, or maybe get a pet.

Olivia was startled out of her thoughts as she neared the pub parking lot. The first thing she noticed was the police tape and the Sheriff’s car parked next to a crappy old red Jetta it’s the door open. Jackson was outside talking with a deputy who was scribbling something down in a black notebook. While they talked he ran his hands through his black hair, seemingly in frustration, but as his eyes collided with Olivia’s he lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

Olivia raised her hand slightly in return but didn’t stop. Whatever was going on was certainly none of her business. Shaking off the shroud of unease that had settled firmly across her shoulder blades she crossed the street and headed for the local grocery store.

Pushing open the door to the chirpy jingling of the bell, she pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pockets. Whatever was going on across at the Salted Bone might have been none of her business but she couldn’t deny the sly little fingers of curiosity which tickled the back of her neck. Okay, so maybe she’d just stop by later for a drink.

Grabbing a basket as she mused on, she felt her message alert vibrate in her pocket. Pulling her phone out she scrolled through to the newest message.

You said to give you a couple of days but I can’t go any longer so this is your official warning I’m coming up to the stick house later with a couple of bottles of wine and a surprise, Louisa xxx

Smiling, she began to type back.

Okay, make it about seven and I’ll cook, Olivia x

Dropping her phone back into her pocket she felt a weight lifting. This was exactly what she needed, a bit of company and a chance to catch up with an old friend. Humming absently to herself she wandered the aisles, picking up what she would need for dinner. She was in the mood for Italian, her favourite, and she hoped Louisa’s tastes hadn’t changed too much. When they were kids they both loved her mom’s spaghetti.

15

She headed up to the till and dropped her basket down. A matronly looking woman with her back to her was looking out of the window, her nose almost pressed against the cold glass as she tried to see what was going on at the pub. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d had a pair of binoculars in her hand.

Olivia smiled in amusement, some things never changed. She’d spent so much time living in big cities, enjoying the solitude and anonymity; she’d forgotten a small town’s capacity and thirst for gossip.

As the older woman turned Olivia’s amusement dissolved into something harder and more guarded.

Mrs Eustacia Bailey had not changed one bit in the twenty years Olivia had been gone, well except for aging considerably. Some things could not be hidden despite the thick layer of pressed powder on the woman’s face, which had just settled into the deep lines around her eyes and her mouth. Her perfectly coiffed ash blond hair was now liberally streaked with grey and she wore her trademark expression of disapproval as she hurried back to the counter and began to ring up Olivia’s purchases.

‘Dreadful business that,’ she muttered. ‘What is?’ Olivia couldn’t help it; the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. ‘That young bartender, the drifter, Adam something.’ ‘Did something happen to him?’ Olivia asked casually. ‘Disappeared last night,’ she answered primly. ‘Apparently his car was left in the parking lot but

there’s no sign of him anywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if he robbed the place blind and then lit out, his kind are never any good.’

‘Now dear, that’s not a very charitable thing to say,’ a soft voice spoke. Olivia turned to look behind her and found Mr Bailey re-stocking one of the shelves. A genuine

smile graced her lips as she looked at the old guy, who was now almost completely bald, with a very obvious paunch.

She’d always been extremely fond of Mr Bailey; he owned the Grocery store along with his wife, the terrifying gossip and self proclaimed pillar of the community, Eustacia Bailey. She’d always wondered how those two had ended up together; when they were complete polar opposites, as different as night and day.

He was such a sweetheart, who used to sneak sweets to her and Louisa sweets, whenever his wife wasn’t looking. She, on the other hand, would shoo them out of the shop, accusing them of been grubby little heathens. How little she really knew, Olivia thought with a smile.

‘I’m, just saying,’ Mrs Bailey continued to pack up Olivia’s items into a bag. ‘It’s not Christian, a boy like that taking off from his home, cut himself off from his family and moving from town to town. It isn’t right; I’ll bet he has a criminal record too. I told Chief Walcott six months ago when the boy blew into town with nothing but his backpack, that he was a bad egg and that he should run a check on him. But he didn’t and now look what’s happened. He probably robbed poor Jackson Murphy blind, maybe even vandalised the place too.’

‘Now I’m sure that’s not the case Love,’ Mr Bailey smiled indulgently. ‘You mark my words Jonathan Bailey, that boy will come to no good and he will have no one to

blame but himself. He has tattoos! Tattoos Jonathan, I mean what is the world coming to, right on his neck too where everyone can see it and did you notice he doesn’t wear a cross like any good Christian boy.’

Her eyes dropped momentarily to Olivia’s throat but she couldn’t see anything under the collar of her coat, which was buttoned up to her chin.

‘He wore a St Christopher,’ she huffed, continuing her tirade. ‘He is the Christian patron saint of travellers,’ Mr Bailey reminded her gently. ‘He must have had

some faith.’ ‘Travellers,’ she scoffed. ‘I know no good when I see it.’ She took Olivia’s card when it was offered and put the payment through. She was about to hand it

back when her eagle eye caught the name on the front of the card. ‘West?’ Her eyes lit up in a slightly disturbing way, ‘Olivia West?’ ‘Yes,’ Olivia replied carefully. She’d known people would figure out who she was sooner or later,

she’d just been hoping for later.

16

‘Well, as I live and breathe,’ Mrs Bailey crowed delightedly, ‘I never thought I’d see the day when you would walk back into town. After all, the memories must be so painful, what with you witnessing what your daddy did to your mama and your grandmamma.’

She leaned forwards across the counter still holding onto the card and receipt. ‘You did witness it didn’t you?’ The woman didn’t pull any punches Olivia thought grimly as her face hardened. ‘Murder, after all it’s so ugly and you being so young. All that blood and the fire must have been so

traumatic for you. I expect you needed expert help after that didn’t you? With your daddy being locked up it was probably too much for you to cope with poor thing. I expect that’s why Evelyn didn’t take custody of you, you were probably more than she knew how to deal with and what with it being her sister and niece who was murdered.’

The woman was merciless; no doubt she wanted to hear all the gory details, not that she could have obliged her even if she’d wanted to. Olivia’s memories of that night and the days that followed were disjointed and unclear. In fact Mrs Bailey probably would have been delighted to hear that, it would have confirmed in her mind that Olivia should have been locked up in an asylum.

Olivia reached out to take her card and stuffed it back in her purse without answering. ‘Stop pecking at the poor girl,’ Mr Bailey rose from his crouched position, his knees creaking as he

struggled to straighten his spine. ‘Dear little Olivia,’ He smiled as he put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. It was so unexpected, and so warm and sincere. Olivia found she didn’t pull away but breathed in

the scent of him, old spice and tobacco. ‘I’m so glad that you are okay,’ he smiled as he released her. ‘I expect you inherited the house from

Evelyn.’ ‘That’s right,’ Olivia replied softly. ‘I had wondered if it would come to you or if you’d even want it. There has been some talk on

whether or not you’d sell it.’ ‘I don’t know,’ Olivia answered honestly, ‘I’m here for the moment, so we’ll just see how it goes.’ ‘Seems sensible,’ he beamed. ‘Wait one moment.’ Olivia watched as the little man darted off towards a different display and returned with a plant in

a pretty blue and yellow pot. All in all it looked like a very cheerful plant Olivia decided. ‘Here this is for you, a little housewarming and welcome home gift,’ he smiled, handing it to her. ‘Thank you,’ she returned his smile, swallowing the little knot of sentiment which caught at the

back of her throat. She refused to look at the sour look on Mrs Bailey’s face. ‘Now you don’t be a stranger, you hear.’ he winked. ‘I won’t,’ Olivia tucked the little plant under one arm and scooped up her bags. With a nod of her

head she headed back out into the cold, back towards her car. After shutting the bags into the trunk she slipped into the driver’s seat and picking up the plant from the passenger’s seat, she noticed something tucked into the pot. Reaching in her fingertips curled around something. As she pulled it out her face broke into a smile and a small laugh escaped her lips, even as her eyes filled with tears.

A tootsie roll lay in the palm of her hand. It was what he always used to give her and Louisa when they snuck into his store. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered after all these years. Reversing out more carefully then she had the night before she headed out of town back towards her house. Despite Mrs Bailey and her poking all of Olivia’s most sensitive spots she felt lighter and almost content.

When she arrived back home she headed straight into the kitchen. Perhaps she should get a pet she mused, flicking on the lights as she moved through the house. Just as she’d arrived home the rain had started to come down hard and heavy, she’d barely made it to the covered porch in time before the heavens opened.

The house had been quiet as she’d entered; it might be nice she thought to have a dog or maybe a cat who would be pleased to see her come home. She made a mental note to enquire if there were any new litters close by.

Stepping into the kitchen she flipped the light on and dropped the grocery bags down on the centre island. She began to pull out the mushrooms, onions and tomatoes as her gaze moved around thoughtfully. She hadn’t really spent any serious time in the kitchen since she arrived except to make

17

coffee or have a bowl of cereal but now that she was looking she realised just how dirty it was after months of the house standing empty.

Making a swift decision she rolled up her sleeves and bundled her long hair on top of her head in a scruffy knot. She pulled the loose strands of hair back from her face with a red bandana and got to work scrubbing layers of dust and dirt from every inch of the kitchen. It took hours but it was worth the sense of satisfaction she felt when, although her arms and back were aching, her kitchen gleamed. It was funny she thought to herself, that was the first time she’d thought of it as her kitchen not her grandmother’s or her Aunt Evie’s.

By the time the knock came at the door, Olivia had managed to shower and change and as she padded through the hall towards the door, the house had a welcoming clean smell of citrus and the fragrant waft of red sauce simmering on the freshly scrubbed stove.

Pulling open the door she tugged her sweater tighter at the sudden rush of cold air and rain. ‘God, you gotta love Massachusetts in the autumn,’ Louisa laughed as she stepped in and pulled

back the hood of her raincoat, shaking loose her hair. ‘Uh huh,’ Olivia replied as she watched the water pool at Louisa’s feet on her freshly polished

floor. Louisa laughed as she followed Olivia’s gaze. ‘Don’t worry I’ll clean it up, anyway these are for you,’ She held up two bottles of wine, ‘I wasn’t

sure what you liked so I brought red and white.’ She took a deep inhale and her eyes rolled in pleasure. ‘Is that spaghetti I smell?’ ‘Yep,’ Olivia smiled, ‘it used to be your favourite.’ ‘Still is,’ Louisa replied. ‘Okay so red it is, I’ll just go get the top off this bad boy and let it breathe

before dinner.’ Louisa turned and headed towards the kitchen. ‘Oh and by the way your surprise is on the porch.’ Olivia turned and watched curiously as a deputy climbed the porch steps. ‘You brought me a cop?’ Olivia replied curiously. ‘Er thanks…’ ‘You’re welcome,’ Louisa laughed over her shoulder as she wandered down the hall, trailing

raindrops in her wake. ‘But what am I supposed to do with him?’ ‘A hug might be good,’ he suggested with a grin as he removed his hat revealing a familiar face. ‘Jake?’ Olivia gasped as she took in his blonde hair almost the same colour as his sister’s and a pair

of mischievous blue eyes. ‘Hello Olive, It’s been a long time.’ He held out his arms, ‘do I get that hug then?’ Without even thinking she launched herself into his arms, laughing in delight and not even

noticing the rain that was saturating her clothes. Jake was only a year younger than his sister Louisa. When they were younger the three of them had

been inseparable and over the years she’d often wondered what had happened to them. Now she had both of them back in her life and standing in her home and she felt a sudden rush of emotion catch in her throat.

‘You got so tall,’ Olivia smiled as he dropped her back on her feet. ‘That tends to happen,’ he grinned and tugged her long dark hair affectionately. ‘What about you

pretty girl, you grew up nice too.’ ‘Nice?’ Olivia’s brow rose, ‘really Jake stop with all the flattery, it’ll just go to a girl’s head,’ she

replied dryly. ‘Alright beautiful,’ he laughed, with a deep low rumble that warmed her stomach. ‘You mind if I

come in? I’m getting a bit waterlogged out here.’ Stepping back to allow him through the door her mouth curved in amusement. the last time she

had seen him he was a scrawny seven year old with dirty blonde hair and missing front tooth. Now the guy standing in front of her was insanely hot, not her kind of hot but still, she could imagine half the single ladies in town throwing themselves at the young deputy. He was tall and broad, and as he removed his jacket she watched with interest as his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, stretching the material.

‘What?’ he asked as he turned back towards her, catching her thorough perusal of him.

18

‘I just can’t believe you’re all grown up,’ she smiled shaking her head, ‘and a cop too.’ ‘Yeah, sorry about the uniform, I’m just off work and didn’t have time to go home and change.’ ‘Come on you guys I’m starving,’ Louisa called from the kitchen, ‘I’m going to die if you don’t feed

me soon.’ ‘I see some things never change,’ Olivia shook her head. Jake laughed and dropped his arm companionably around her shoulders as they wandered towards

the kitchen. ‘You should never come between Louisa and food; she’ll take your head right off.’ ‘Hey I heard that,’ Louisa replied indignantly as they entered the room. ‘I just pulled a double shift

and I haven’t eaten since this morning.’ Louisa had removed her coat, revealing the scrubs she was wearing with plastic IDs clipped to the

waistband. ‘Wow, you’re a doctor?’ Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘That’s right,’ Louisa mumbled as she continued to open random cupboards. ‘Hey where are your

wineglasses?’ ‘I have no idea.’ ‘Found them!’ she answered triumphantly as she pulled down three glasses with beautiful blue

stems. ‘These are gorgeous.’ ‘You’re really a doctor?’ Olivia repeated, barely glancing at the wine glasses. ‘Yes,’ Louisa answered in amusement. ‘But that’s so…so…’ ‘Unexpected?’ Louisa supplied helpfully. ‘Respectable,’ Olivia breathed. ‘What happened to you running away to join a band?’ ‘Ah yes,’ Louisa’s eyes went distant, ‘that was my third grade ambition wasn’t it. Well there was a

problem with that.’ ‘Which was?’ Olivia asked curiously. ‘Turns out I can’t sing or play an instrument.’ ‘It's true she really can’t,’ Jake laughed, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any beer around her have you?’ ‘Sure,’ Olivia nodded towards the refrigerator. ‘That’s not the only respectable thing about me,’ Louisa grinned and from under her scrubs she

pulled a delicate chain which held a wedding ring. ‘You’re married?’ Olivia’s eyebrows rose, ‘To who?’ ‘Tommy Linden.’ ‘Linden,’ Olivia murmured thoughtfully, trying to cast her mind back twenty years. ‘Cute dark

haired boy, a bit shy?’ ‘That’s the one.’ ‘You married the cutest boy in class?’ ‘Yep, he went from being the cutest boy in class to the hottest guy in school,’ she replied smugly. ‘Hey!’ Jake objected as he popped the cap on his beer. ‘You don’t count,’ she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘Apparently,’ Jake mumbled as he took a long pull of his beer and sighed in satisfaction. ‘So where is he now?’ ‘He’s serving a tour in Afghanistan.’ ‘Oh,’ Olivia replied quietly, ‘I hope he gets home safe.’ ‘Me too,’ Louisa took a sip of wine as she handed a glass to Olivia. ‘We Skype each other but I

won’t relax until he’s back home on American soil.’ ‘When’s he back on leave?’ ‘Not sure yet but soon hopefully.’ Louisa’s smile was suddenly small and pensive. ‘Okay,’ Olivia squeezed her hand reassuringly, ‘so let’s feed you.’ ‘Yes please,’ Louisa hopped up on the counter and took another sip of her wine. ‘A cop and a doctor,’ Olivia shook her head, ‘your parents must be proud.’ ‘Yeah,’ Jake answered. ‘What about you? What do you do?’ ‘I’m an Historian and author. I specialize mostly in historical books, specifically the witch trials,

not just those in Salem but across early America and Europe and also the history of witchcraft itself.’

19

‘Wow,’ Louisa sipped her wine, ‘a historian, just like your daddy.’ Suddenly she realised what she’d said and her face paled. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…’ ‘It’s okay,’ Olivia sighed. ‘I knew the subject of my parents would come up sooner or later. We

might as well get it out of the way and then you won’t have to worry about tripping over your tongues.’ ‘You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to Olive, it’s none of our business,’ Jake stared

pointedly at his sister. Olivia smiled, every time he called her Olive she was transported back in time, making her feel as if

she were eight years old again. ‘Its fine,’ she looked over her shoulder at them as she began to scoop the spaghetti into bowls. ‘Go

ahead and ask, if I don’t want to answer I won’t.’ ‘Alright,’ Louisa jumped down off the counter and topped up both wine glasses. ‘What happened

that night? I mean what do you remember?’ ‘Not much to be honest,’ Olivia absently picked up her wine and drank, ‘I have some pretty big

holes in my memory, and the therapist they forced me to see said I was repressing the memories because they were too traumatic.’

She turned to face them both and leaned back against the counter. ‘I remember being inside the house, the smoke and the fire. I remember my father standing over

my mother’s body with a knife in his hand, and the blood.’ Her eyes became distant, lost in memory. ‘There was so much blood.’

‘Jesus,’ Jake hissed as he raked his hand through his hair, ‘I’m so sorry Olive, I’ve seen my fair share of crime scenes and no kid should ever have to see something like that.’

Olivia shrugged. ‘It’s been part of my life for so long, I don’t really think about it much anymore, or I try not to.’ ‘So what happened after that?’ Louisa frowned. ‘It's a blur,’ Olivia shook her head, ‘We were in the car, I remember being really cold because I

didn’t have a coat. From what I’ve been told we made it as far as Philadelphia before the cops caught up with us and my dad was arrested.’

‘So he’s still alive then?’ Jake asked, ‘in prison?’ Olivia shook her head. ‘He’s alive alright but when they caught up with him, he was raving. I mean like whole buckets of

crazy, kept ranting something about demons. After he was convicted of the murders of my mother and grandmother he was institutionalized in a high security psychiatric hospital and I was put into the foster care system where I bounced around between family placements and group homes. I was made a ward of the state and put up for adoption but no one wanted me, after all who would want to adopt the kid of a murderer.’

‘I’m so sorry, Olive,’ Jake looked at her sympathetically. She shrugged and took another sip of wine. ‘What I don’t understand is why you weren’t brought back to Mercy, why wasn’t your Aunt Evelyn

given custody?’ Louisa frowned. ‘That’s a story for another time,’ Olivia sighed, ‘Now do you want your dinner or not, because it’s

getting cold.’ ‘I want it,’ Louisa smiled, sensing the topic was now off limits. She filed away the rest of her

questions for the time being. ‘Good,’ she handed them a bowl each. ‘Let's go through into the library, its more comfortable and

as it’s the only other room I’m using at the moment it’s the only other room that’s actually clean.’ After retrieving another couple of bottles of red from her aunt’s private stash and some more beer

for Jake they settled comfortably in the library with Louisa stretched out on the saggy old couch and Jake in an adjacent chair. Olivia as she preferred pulled some big cushions onto the floor and curled up in front of the fire.

‘So Jake, what happened to the bartender over at The Salted Bone? That’s all anyone’s been talking about today,’ Louisa asked her brother.

‘That’s right I forgot about that,’ Olivia took a mouthful of spaghetti, ‘I was at the grocery store this morning and Mrs Bailey was all over that.’

20

‘I just bet she was, the old bitch,’ Louisa rolled her eyes; ‘I also bet she just loved the fact you’re back in town.’

Olivia snorted, ‘You should have seen her face when she figured out who I was. It was like Christmas had come

early for her but anyway,’ Olivia turned back to Jake, ‘she thought Adam was just a drifter and that he’d robbed Jackson and taken off with the money.’

‘You know Adam and Jackson?’ Jake asked ‘I met them the other night.’ ‘Well I can’t really discuss an ongoing investigation,’ Jake swallowed a mouthful of his dinner; ‘all I

can say is Adam didn’t turn up for his shift today and hasn’t been seen since last night.’ ‘Come on Jake,’ Louisa whined, ‘give us something to work with here, what good is it being related

to a cop if you don’t get the good gossip.’ ‘There is nothing to gossip about. Adam did not rob the pub and whilst I may not like Eustacia

Bailey, the woman did have a point. As likable as Adam was, he was a drifter. The chances are he probably just decided to take off.’

‘But you don’t think that do you?’ Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she watched Jake’s expression remain carefully neutral.

‘There are just a few things that don’t add up for me,’ he conceded with a swig of beer. ‘Such as?’ Louisa prodded. Jake sighed. ‘I trust this will go no further than this room?’ ‘I promise,’ Louisa replied eagerly. ‘Yeah me too,’ Olivia agreed. ‘Adam’s car was left in the parking lot with the door open, the keys were found on the ground and

what looks like blood was found on the door rim. Not only that, but all of his possessions were still in his room over at The Black Cat Motel where he was staying.’

‘You think something bad has happened to him?’ Louisa asked genuinely concerned. ‘We just don’t know at this point,’ Jake replied. ‘We’re making inquiries but we don’t have a lot to

go on.’ ‘Poor Adam,’ Olivia frowned, ‘I only met him once but he seemed to be a nice guy and I think he

had a thing going on with the red haired waitress there.’ ‘What makes you say that?’ Jake asked sharply. ‘Just the way they were looking at each other, it was familiar and intimate.’ ‘You always were good at reading people,’ Louisa murmured. ‘Well I hope that you find him and

that he’s okay.’ ‘Time will tell,’ Jake said philosophically. They all settled down in companionable silence for a while as they finished their meal. ‘It’s getting a little cold in here,’ Olivia shivered putting down her empty bowl, ‘I think I’ll light the

fire.’ Jakes face lit up. ‘Are you going to light the fire or you know... light the fire,’ he put a great emphasis on the word

light the second time. ‘Jake,’ Louisa hissed. ‘What? I just want to see if she can still do it,’ he grinned. ‘Do what?’ Olivia replied innocently hiding her smile behind her wine glass. ‘You know exactly what. When we were kids you used to be able to create fire out of thin air, I

watched you a dozen times light the candles just by blowing on the wicks.’ ‘Oh that,’ her eyes glittered mischievously, ‘child's play.’ The fire suddenly roared to life in the still cold hearth without even a whisper of sound or

movement from Olivia. ‘I’m so much better than that now,’ she smiled. ‘Holy shit,’ Jake jumped at the sudden roar of flame, spilling his beer in his lap. ‘Wow,’ Louisa’s mouth dropped open. Olivia simply laughed and topped off her wine.

21

‘That shit is awesome,’ Jake laughed in delight, ‘What else can you do?’ Olivia took a slow sip of her wine as she regarded Jake thoughtfully. It’s true that when they were

kids they knew everything about each other. It seemed only natural to share everything with her best friends, but a lot could change in twenty years and for the first time since she’d been back in their company she wondered at just how much she should reveal.

Louisa seemed to feel her reluctance and slid off the couch to sit on the floor next to her as did Jake, so they were arranged in a circle in front of the cheerfully roaring fire. She watched silently as they joined hands and reached out to take hers and for a brief moment she was transported back in time and they were all seven and eight years old again.

‘We keep each other’s secrets,’ Louisa murmured with a smile. It was the vow they always used to make when they snuck off together and met up in secret. ‘We keep each other’s secrets,’ Jake repeated. Olivia sighed as she looked at each of them; this was what she had been missing and that deep

dark place that had always seemed to be inside her, narrowed slightly for the first time in two decades. ‘We keep each other’s secrets,’ she conceded breathing quietly as she completed the circle. ‘Cool,’ Jake grinned with all the eagerness of a little boy. ‘So come on what else can you do?’ With a small smile curving the corner of her mouth she held her hands out in front of her body,

fingers splayed out as if she were holding an invisible ball. Slowly she twisted and moved her hands and a burning orb appeared between them. They watched fascinated as her warm honey coloured eyes suddenly burned molten gold and the glowing sphere grew in size swirling and writhing in her hands like a fiery new born planet.

She slowly pulled her hands apart vertically as if she was stretching the tiny primordial world and it began to lengthen, gradually taking on a new shape. One of her hands dropped slowly to her side whilst the burning writhing mass swirled in the palm of her other hand. They could now clearly see its shape. It churned in a vibrant funnel like a miniature tornado made of pure flame and energy. Every now and then it crackled and snapped with micro bursts of lightening.

Olivia watched, entranced at the ribbons of orange, yellow, red and gold that made up the very substance of her magical fire. They wound round and round in never ending circles connected yet separate. No one could see the fire the way she did, it was hers and hers alone.

Her eyes met Jake’s across the circle. ‘Do you trust me?’ Her voice was like a siren call, he would think later, if he could think at all. It wasn’t just the deep

liquid gold of her eyes he couldn’t turn away from, but her skin itself seemed to glow, reflecting the flames.

‘I trust you,’ he whispered. ‘Then touch the flames,’ she smiled holding out her hand. He reached out, hesitating for a split second as his fingers hovered at the edge of the flame before

taking a deep breath and plunging his hand into the fire. A gasp of shock hissed from his lips as his eyes widened in surprise. ‘The flames are cold,’ he breathed in wonder. Louisa’s eyes widened and she too reached out and dipped her fingertips into the fire. ‘Well I’ll be damned,’ she murmured. Olivia turned to the small coffee table which sat beside the couch. It had a glass top, edged in

metal, and was mounted on twisted iron legs. Grasping it with her free hand she dragged it into the centre of their little circle and tipped the flames onto its reflective surface.

The glass suddenly turned cloudy and crackled, as a snowflake pattern appeared, spreading out to the very edges like a pond freezing over in sub zero temperatures.

Louisa traced the surface of the table before snatching her hand back. ‘It’s frozen solid,’ she gasped. Olivia smiled to herself as she focused on the fire. Moisture began to pool on the surface as the

flames heated and melted the icy glass. The tornado bobbed and weaved across the table until it reached the metal edging and suddenly the metal began to glow cherry red, like a poker pulled from a forge. The metal heated and began to bubble dripping down the iron leg of the table like a candle.

22

‘You can control its temperature,’ Jake breathed in awe. ‘The flames, you can make them burn as hot or cold as you want can’t you?’

‘That’s not all,’ Olivia replied. ‘What?’ ‘How about a different colour?’ she cocked an eyebrow. Suddenly the red and yellow flames flared and changed to pure gold, then to a pale icy blue before

settling into a light lavender colour. ‘Holy crap,’ Louisa laughed in delight. Olivia cupped her hands around the fire and it jumped back into her palms. She pressed her hands

together and the fire was extinguished. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Louisa breathed, ‘that was amazing.’ Olivia shrugged. ‘So I guess you decided to follow in your family’s footsteps and live as a witch then.’ Jake stated

more than asked. ‘It wasn’t so much a conscious decision,’ Olivia picked up her glass and took a thoughtful sip, ‘I

always knew what my mother and grandmother and aunt were, they never hid it from me, although we were never allowed to discuss it with anyone outside the family. After my mom and Nana died I turned from the power for a long time. Not only because the fire reminded me of that night but because I was trying so desperately to fit in with all the other foster kids and I didn’t want to be seen as a freak.’

‘So what changed?’ Jake asked quietly. ‘I did,’ Olivia dropped her head back against the couch and breathed deeply. ‘I don’t know, I guess

I figured choosing to be a witch was kind of honouring my mom. It was a way of being close to her because I missed her so bad. But in the end I realised that being a witch wasn’t a choice, it’s who I am, if that makes any sense. The power I have is part of me, and I can’t ignore it or pretend it doesn’t exist because that would be denying who I truly am.’

‘Wow that’s deep,’ Jake whispered. Olivia grabbed a cushion and threw it at his head. ‘Brat,’ she laughed. He grinned as he caught the pillow and tucked it comfortably under himself. ‘So what about you two,’ Olivia asked, ‘did either of you explore your gifts?’ Just as fire had always been Olivia’s greatest skill, she knew her best friends were also gifted; it’s

what had drawn them all together in the first place. Louisa had always been able to tell what was wrong with someone if they were hurt or sick and Jake, well Jake had this uncanny knack for knowing if someone was lying or being deceitful. Suddenly she realised that they had made use of their gifts, even if they hadn’t realised it, by the professions they’d chosen.

‘Just connected the dots didn’t you!’ Louisa laughed draining the rest of her glass, ‘Guess our jobs don’t seem so crazy now.’

‘Yeah you could say our professions chose us rather than the other way around,’ Jake replied. ‘We didn’t explore our gifts after you were gone. After all we thought you were dead and it just made us too sad but we still have our special talents.’

‘I guess,’ Olivia mused ‘Besides, our parents are still staunch Christians,’ Louisa lifted her fingers to draw imaginary speech

marks in the air, ‘whilst they still enjoy our town’s colourful ‘history.’ ‘They don’t really believe in witchcraft and I think they’d pitch a fit if they found out their children

were pagans, so we never really took that final step. We’re just kind of happy as we are, we believe in God we just also happen to have unusual abilities.’

‘Fair enough,’ Olivia shrugged smiling, ‘I won’t hold it against you.’ ‘It’s funny when you think about it,’ Jake smirked, ‘even though the town embraces the legend of it

being founded by witches most folks around here don’t actually believe in magic. They have no idea that an honest to God witch lives in their midst.’

‘Very funny,’ Olivia rolled her eyes, ‘Hey,’ Louisa suddenly sat up, ‘Do you remember when we used to sneak off to the woods to our

secret den and pretend to practice witchcraft.’

23

24

‘To be fair Lou, we were kinda practicing witchcraft, even if we didn’t actually know it,’ Jake replied.

‘Whatever,’ she shrugged ‘Is our den still there?’ Olivia asked her eyes bright with curiosity. ‘I have no idea,’ Louisa grinned back. ‘Let's go see,’ Olivia climbed to her feet. ‘Are you mad?’ Jake glanced up at her as she stood over him. ‘It’s late, it’s wet and it’s been twenty

years, it’s probably not even still there.’ ‘Quit whining and get your ass up,’ Louisa grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up. ‘I’m not going,’ Jake shook his head. ‘Fine you stay here chicken shit, Olivia and I will go.’ She hooked her arm companionably through

Olivia’s as they turned and headed out of the room. ‘I know I’m going to regret this,’ Jake murmured as he hauled himself off the floor and followed

them. Olivia pulled on her coat and a pair of her Aunt’s green rubber boots that were in the mud room

and grabbed a couple of torches. At least she had gotten round to changing the batteries she thought smugly.

They trotted down the steps from the back door and headed into the woods but as they hit the cold air the alcohol caught up with them and before long Olivia and Louisa were giggling like a pair of twelve year olds.

‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ Jake frowned, seemingly the only sober one of the three of them. ‘Stop your bitchin’’ Louisa hiccupped, ‘You’re the one with the gun.’ Suddenly Louisa tripped and grabbed onto Olivia, causing her to lose her balance. She slipped on

the wet leaves and they both went down on the muddy ground in a tangle of limbs and uncontrollable hysterics.

Jake cradled his face in his hand, shaking his head in exasperation and with a long suffering sigh he reached down and scooped the pair of them up.

‘I really think we should head back to the house,’ ‘Whatever, dad,’ Louisa giggled. ‘God, what is that smell?’ Olivia coughed as a rancid scent filled her nostrils and mouth. ‘Nice Jake,’ Louisa hissed in disgust. ‘Hey it wasn’t me,’ Jake replied, ‘smells like a dead animal.’ ‘Watch where you’re stepping,’ he warned. ‘Yeah yeah,’ Louisa mumbled. ‘Come on,’ Olivia replied, ‘It can’t be much further.’ ‘Fine,’ he conceded. ‘Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna get lost,’ Olivia laughed as she walked backwards her flashlight

on Jake’s face, ‘we know these woods like the back of our ha….’ The rest of her sentence was cut off by a small yelp and the whoosh of air as she tripped

backwards and landed in something wet and unpleasantly slimy. ‘What the hell?’ She gagged as the smell from earlier hit her full force. She fumbled with her flashlight to see what she’d fallen in, and a scream caught in her throat as the

beam of light fell across the mangled remains of a human body.

CONTINUE READING…

This Exclusive Preview is taken from MERCY, the addictive first book in The Guardians Series.