A Deadly Secret (The Deadly Series Book 2) Page 3

  The bathroom door shut and I froze. Ethan’s lips trailed down my neck. “Hold on.” I raised my hand in the air, toward the opening of the loft. “Auribus tantum.”

  “What was that?”

  He couldn’t see it, but there was a sheen of magic at the opening of the stairs, blocking all sound from going through. My own version of a soundproof room. Placing my hands on his upper arms, I pulled him back down. “No one can hear us now.”

  Ethan’s grin grew more mischievous. He growled as he buried his face in my neck, the scratchy shadow of his beard causing a giggle to burst from my throat.

  The following evening, I arrived early to Town Hall, having volunteered to set up the buffet table for the mayor’s Christmas party, and was almost done layering cupcakes on white, tiered stands. Maisie would be coming shortly to bring hot coffee. Mike, from Mike’s, Wildewood’s only bar, had dropped off appetizers. The mayor and he didn’t get along, so it was surprising he had offered, though he still refused the obligatory invitation to come to the party.

  Butterflies filled my stomach. I had never been a ‘prominent figure’ anywhere in my life. I had a tendency to keep my head down, but that no longer seemed an option here. Picking up a cupcake, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. The hair on the back of my neck stood as I turned to look. Putting down the cupcake, I wiped my hands on my apron and followed it toward the front door. I saw another shadowy movement and turned, facing the stairs that led down to Esther’s vault. It was a room of secrets. A place she stored magical items known to cause problems.

  Madam Mayor was a Keeper, another line of witches with roots deeply tied to Wildewood.

  She protected the inhabitants of the town, which to me, meant the residents were all some type of supernatural being. Esther had caught me trying to use a spell on her daughter, Samantha, after her fiancé had been murdered. If not for that incident, I was positive I would never have found out Esther was a witch.

  I heard the vault door creak open and walked toward the steps. A sliver of light poured out into the dark landing. There it was, unlocked. Looking around, I didn’t see any more shadows. I gripped the railing, my steps slow and soft, then I made my way down to the room. Just close the door, I told myself. I have no business being here. As my hand touched the door to push it closed, I jumped at the sound of a book falling off the shelf in the very back.

  “Just leave it.” I bit my bottom lip and turned to look behind me. I was still alone at Town Hall; Esther hadn’t returned from doing whatever mayor-y thing she was busy with. No one would know. What could it hurt to see what had fallen?

  I walked into the room but my steps faltered. No. I couldn’t do it. This was a secret room of the mayor’s. I shouldn’t be in here. I turned around and began to walk back up the steps when I heard another thud. Ever so slowly, I turned to see a very thick, very large book wrapped in brown paper at my feet.

  Well, since it wasn’t in the room anymore . . . I bent to pick it up and opened the front cover. Sucking in a breath, I shook my head. It couldn’t be . . . but it was. The Wildewood Grimoire.

  The mayor had it the whole time.

  The door to the vault slammed shut. The book fell to the ground as I jumped. I scooped it off the floor and as I scrambled up the steps, I shoved the book into my bag hanging by the front door. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. Who the hell had done that?

  I hurried into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. My fingers gripped the sides of the sink as I stared at my reflection. Paler than usual, pupils dilated. I reached for a folded paper towel, almost knocking over a small flower arrangement of purple, red, and white flowers. Grabbing the short, round vase before it could topple over, I settled it back in place. I pressed the scratchy paper towel to my face and took a deep breath.

  I left the bathroom to finish setting out the cupcakes. Placing the last snowflake cupcake—white buttercream with tiny iridescent flakes—on the top tier, someone grabbed me from behind, wrapping their hands around my waist. I screamed, turning on my heels, ready to smack Mister Handsy. My hand fell short as my eyes took in Ethan smiling back at me.

  “Good grief.” I took in a deep breath and laughed nervously. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  He pressed his lips against mine, clearly unconcerned over the heart palpitations he had caused. “I thought I’d come by early to help you.” He glanced behind me at the three five-tier stands filled with cupcakes. “But it seems you don’t need any help.”

  “I work pretty fast when I’m not distracted.” I poked him in the chest.

  He pulled me closer, peering down at me, and playfully bit my bottom lip. “I like being your distraction.”

  I glanced over at the hallway where my bag hung. I had enough distractions right now as it stood. His lips found mine again, and I melted into his warm body. Ethan was always warm, even when it was freezing outside. I found myself wanting more, deepening our kiss, and didn’t hear the door open. Someone cleared their throat behind Ethan and my eyes popped open.

  My cheeks heated when I saw Esther Miller standing behind us, her arms crossed, completely unamused by the show we were putting on. I pulled away, running my fingers over my lips.

  “Ethan, would you mind running to The Stop and Shop for a bag of ice?” She wasn’t asking.

  Ethan sighed as he planted a kiss on my forehead.

  “You could ask nicely,” I mumbled.

  Ignoring me, Esther walked into her office, her heels loud in the quiet building. I stayed next to the buffet table, not sure what to do with my hands, I held them behind my back and tangled my fingers together. I could hear her moving around. Turning my head, I caught another glimpse of the shadow. What the hell was that? Could I now see dead people? I gave myself a mental eye roll. I had a dead person living in my house, of course I could. This wasn’t just a regular ghost, if it was one at all. It didn’t want me to know who or what it was. It did, however, want me to find the grimoire.

  Esther walked out of her office at the same time a thud came from near the front door. I watched as her gaze lowered to the floor. She looked at me and I knew what had just happened. My face flushed, my pulse speeding up. She moved out of view, coming back a second later with the book in her hands.

  “Where did you find this?” Her stare was drilling holes into me.

  “Um . . . I . . .” I shifted my weight back and forth on my feet.

  “How did you get into my vault?” She took a step closer.

  I backed up, hitting the table. “It was open.” Finally, I could form words. My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. There was no joy in being on Esther’s bad side.

  “You shouldn’t have this.” She strode toward her office.

  I stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few seconds before snapping my jaw shut. Wait—I shouldn’t have it? It belonged to the Wildewoods! And I was a Wildewood. I rushed after her. “No, that doesn’t belong to you.”

  The mayor stopped walking, her back still facing me. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took in a deep breath. Slowly turning to look at me, Esther handed it back. “Be careful.”

  The front door opened and a crowd of people began to pour in. I took a quick glance behind me, then turned back to Esther. Why did I need to be careful? She put a smile on her face then pushed past me to greet the rest of her guests.

  Facing the crowd flowing into the building, I held the book behind my back. My fingers cramped under its weight. I needed to get it back to my bag, but there were too many people standing in the hallway.

  Esther greeted Sheriff Manuel Vargas and his wife, Sasha. I had only ever seen him in his uniform, but tonight he wore a black suit with a red tie. His wife hooked her arm, which was wrapped inside a light-gray, faux-fur-cropped jacket, around his. Tall, even without her six-inch heels, Sasha—supermodel thin and a bottle blonde—had a large smile just as shiny as the diamonds she wore around her neck.

  I caught a glimp
se of Maisie slinking around the crowd with two tall coffee thermoses in her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, December night air. She sat them on the buffet table beside a stack of Styrofoam cups. “Why are you standing like that?”

  “I think we’re at the wrong party,” I mumbled, taking note of how I was dressed compared to everyone else. Black boots with too many scuffs on the toes, black jeggings with the knees slightly worn, and my over-sized, hunter-green sweater. I must’ve missed Esther’s memo about it being a semi-formal gathering. Where was my fairy godmother when I needed one? Maybe she could bippity-bobbity-boop my outfit.

  Maisie nudged me with an elbow. The book slid from my grip, landing with a loud thunk on the ground. She bent to pick it up. “My, what a big book you have.” She flipped to the first page, her mouth opening slightly. She looked at me and asked, “Where did you find this?”

  I kept my eyes on Esther. “I’ll explain later. Go hide it in my bag.”

  Maisie looked down at the book. I cleared my throat, getting her attention and cocked my head to the side, mouthing “go.” Maisie jerked her head up as Esther strolled toward the table. She pressed her lips firmly together and moved away before Esther could reach us.

  “Riley.” Esther stood, shoulder to shoulder with me, her back turned toward the other guest. “Please take the apron off. You aren’t the help tonight.”

  My cheeks flushed and I tried to untie the knot in the back, but my fingers fumbled, making it worse. She clicked her tongue, whispering something under her breath, and the apron fell to the floor.

  “Thanks.” I scrambled to hide it under the buffet table, toeing one of the strings that peeked out from under the red table cloth.

  “Try to enjoy the party, Riley.” Esther nosed the air and turned back toward the rest of her guests.

  Town Hall was not a huge building, and though it wasn’t small by any means, it felt as if the whole town had been invited. The temperature rose from the number of bodies filling the space. Turning away from the crowd, I leaned my nose toward my shoulder, trying to remember if I’d put on deodorant. I was already starting to sweat, though it was probably my nerves more than anything.

  I looked around in hopes of finding a corner to stand in, a place out of the way when my eyes locked on Ethan. Relief washed over me. He smiled and hoisted a large bag of ice on his shoulder. The dark-gray sweater he wore lifted to expose a sliver of skin at his waist, and it took all of my willpower not to stare.

  A woman walked in front of him, blocking my view for a second. When my eyes refocused, I realized it was Jessica Freki, owner of Lunas Boutique. Her light-brown curls were tamed by a clip at the base of her neck. She gave a quick wave before heading toward a short hallway where the bathrooms were located. I waved back, then realized she was looking past me at her associate, Sophia King. I dropped my hand, hoping no one noticed.

  Ethan walked behind me to pour the ice into a large pitcher. He set the remaining ice into a cooler under the table. Sliding his hand into mine, he kissed me on the cheek. His hands were surprisingly warm for having just had ice on them.

  I spotted Tessa and relaxed further. All of my people were finally here. She grinned at me and pointed to a small bar set up on the opposite wall outside Esther’s office. She curled her fingers as if she were holding a cup, brought it to her lips, then threw her head back. I tugged on Ethan’s hand, taking a step toward the bar, but Manuel and his wife blocked my way. Wrinkling my nose, a powerful smell wafted—no—invaded my senses. Patchouli and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I breathed through my mouth, but then I tasted it.

  I glanced over at the bar, wishing I had something to wash the taste out of my mouth. Ethan unwrapped his fingers from mine, placed another kiss on my cheek, then walked to the bar. He either read my mind or also needed to escape the overpowering smell of Sasha’s perfume.

  “Riley.” Sheriff Vargas nodded at me.

  Putting my best fake smile on, I waved, trying to breathe as little as possible. “Sheriff. I’m glad you two made it.”

  Sasha poked her head from around his shoulder. “Riley Jones?”

  I tried to keep the confusion off my face. Did my name mean something to her? We had never been properly introduced. “Yes.” I extended my hand out to her. “I own—”

  She slapped her husband on the arm. “The Witches Brew! Jessica brings me coffee from your café all the time. I can barely get through my morning without some of your Hocus Focus. I’m dying to know what the secret ingredient is.”

  A nervous chuckle bubbled up my throat, and I somewhat jokingly said, “I’ll be taking that with me to the grave.”

  Her shiny smile faded. I had a feeling Sasha wasn’t used to not getting her way. She moved past my cupcakes, her nose turned up slightly, and grabbed a few chocolate-covered strawberries to set on her plate. Little did she know, I had made those too.

  Ethan held a slender glass of shimmering, pale-gold liquid in front of me. I wrapped my fingers around the stem and drank it in one, painful gulp. The champagne hit my stomach and a wave of heat radiated through me, my body tingling. I blinked, trying to focus on the knitted pattern of Ethan’s sweater in hopes of deterring the fuzzy feeling growing in my head.

  Ethan cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. “You know that wasn’t a shot, right?”

  Were there shots?

  I looked at the bar. Instead of seeing shots as I’d hoped, I saw Jessica Freki heading this way. Her golden-brown eyes narrowed as she looked between Vargas and his wife. I was pretty sure she and Sasha were friends, but that was not a friendly look. She stopped in front of them, raising her chin to make eye contact. Jessica was a bit taller than me, putting her at an average height, but anyone standing next to Sasha in her stilettos would seem short.

  Hooking my arm in Ethan’s, I pulled us toward the bar and away from a rather scorned-looking Jessica. Maisie appeared beside me, the book safe in my bag. She glanced at me; her brows scrunched.

  “You okay?”

  Leaning over the bar, I picked up another champagne flute. I drank it quickly then nodded as I set the empty on the counter. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “I think she’s nervous,” Ethan whispered to Maisie.

  “Why?” Tessa looked at me. I pursed my lips in response. Her face softened and she placed her hand on mine as I reached for another flute. I pulled my hand away, but her eyes had already dilated, stealing a vision from me. Okay—we needed some ‘my best friend is a psychic’ rules. “You belong here just as much as anyone,” Tessa spoke softly. “Here.” She reached into an inner pocket of her jacket and then handed me a small flask. Without care, I took a sip, the contents burning my throat on the way down.

  I heard a raised voice behind me. The conversations around the room quieted, but the Christmas music prevented me from understanding what Jessica was whisper-screaming at Sasha. She had her hands on her hips, her lips thin lines as they pulled away from her teeth. Sasha ran past us, shielding her face with a slender hand.

  Jessica crossed her arms and turned her attention to Vargas, who finished his champagne then rolled his shoulders back in a shrug. Jessica threw her hands in the air and stomped away from him. The volume of chatter rose again. My head was starting to spin and I grabbed onto the bar, closing my eyes tight.

  I needed water. I blinked my eyes open, waiting for them to focus before making the trek to the bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” Maisie asked, her attention focused across the room, not on her dear ol’ sister.

  Eugene and Michael Fletcher walked toward the buffet table. Vargas became noticeably tense, the muscles in his neck tightening. If he tensed much more, his tie might strangle him. Michael looked toward his father and though I could see his lips move as he squeezed his father’s shoulder, I couldn’t hear a word he said. He walked away from the two men. My smile was greeted with a nod and he continued past us. My gaze followed him until he pushed open the men’s bathroom door.

  �
��They’re in business together and it’s not going well,” Ethan answered.

  I leaned against Ethan, taking note of his incredibly muscular arm. He glanced down at me and his eyes creased in amusement. I froze, realizing I had been rubbing his bicep, and shoved my hands in my pockets, returning my attention to the other two men.

  Eugene moved toward Vargas, his posture stiff. I had never seen this side of Eugene. He was a happy man, a smile always on his face—except for recently. Vargas squared his shoulders, his chest puffing out.

  “Shit,” Ethan whispered. He pushed away from the bar, walking toward them.

  Maisie handed me another champagne flute, I scowled at it. She tossed hers back and I shrugged, following suit. It looked like we were both feeling a little out of place tonight.

  “No more for you.” Tessa took the empty flute from my hand.

  She was probably right. I was teetering on tipsy, one more drink and I’d probably fall well over the line. Already overheated in my thick sweater, I was tempted to pull it off, but I don’t think that’s the type of party Esther had in mind.

  A woman with wiry, brown waves wedged herself between Tessa and me, forcing me to scoot over, bumping into Maisie. She was a little taller than me, but I think that might have something to do with the thick wedge heels she wore. “Excuse me,” she mumbled under her breath, leaning over the bar for one of the few remaining glasses of champagne.

  Sorry, I thought, feeling a smile creep on my lips which I hid with a finger pressed against them.

  “Natalie Remington.” She held her empty hand out to me.

  She had a firm handshake. “Riley Jones.”

  Pulling a few business cards out of her purse, she passed them around. “I just joined Wildewood Realty.”

  I slipped the card into my pocket. I had no interest in selling either of my properties but she didn’t need to know that. I heard a shout and looked over my shoulder. Vargas’s face had reddened, his shoulders moving up and down with his heavy breathing. His nostrils flared. Michael stood close to his father, whose hands flexed into fists.