Page 19 of Never Been Witched (Starfall Point #3)

Alice

Even as everything screamed at her to follow Collin out the door, Alice took a fortifying breath and prepared to deal with the storm brewing behind her. She turned around, finding her grandmother standing approximately six inches from her face.

“We know what you did!” Marilyn shrieked.

The noise and proximity had anxiety creeping up Alice’s throat, sending waves of magic throbbing toward her hands, aching to become something— most likely posing a great risk to the precious items that surrounded them on all sides.

Alice took a deep breath, doing her best to keep her expression neutral.

She would not make every fragile object in this shop explode—even if it would be extremely gratifying.

Grandmother Marilyn had started arguments in this manner before, trying to entrap Alice into confessing some unknown offense.

The screaming was a little over-the-top for her, though. Hmm .

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Alice said.

Now that the angry panic was starting to ebb a tiny bit, the sour burn of humiliation rose in Alice’s chest. She couldn’t believe they’d spoken to her like this in front of someone.

Normally, they liked to keep this sort of “performance review” private, behind closed doors.

Why were they starting this interaction at what Josh would call “a hundred”?

She knew that people of Starfall Point didn’t see her as petted and doted upon, but having her grandparents’ absolute disdain for her laid bare like this? It was insupportable.

“We saw you, Alice. We saw you remove stock through the front door , blatantly stealing from the store. From us!” Marilyn shouted, crossing to the far wall.

Absently, Alice wondered how her grandmother had mastered the art of walking without moving her upper body. Maybe it was a finishing-school thing?

“I beg your pardon?” Alice blinked at her. She rubbed her thumb along her finger, where she expected to find her recently purchased ring—how had that become a habit so quickly?

The ring wasn’t there. She couldn’t even register distress that she’d apparently lost it. The room was just too loud.

“Don’t you try to play innocent with us, young lady.

We have cameras!” Marilyn cried, pointing at the corner of the showroom.

Alice’s eyes followed the motion and as she moved closer, she saw a tiny pinhole in the crown molding.

It was almost hidden behind the raised cornice of a wardrobe, so unless one was looking for it, there was no way to see it.

Hell, she hadn’t seen it, despite spending hours in that room every day.

“As soon as we saw the footage, we knew we had to make the trip immediately, even if it did pain your poor grandfather,” Marilyn said.

“He shouldn’t be traveling in his condition.

We shouldn’t be traveling at all! We shouldn’t have to check up on you every summer!

We should be able to trust our employee to run this store competently! ”

Silently, Grandfather Franklin pointed to another pinhole just above the register, which would have recorded every transaction Alice made.

Her brain felt like it was short-circuiting.

Her grandparents had fought against the idea of interior cameras in the store for years, claiming they were “gauche” and communicated distrust to the customers.

And somehow, they’d managed to install them in the store without her knowledge?

How had they managed to do it without her seeing it?

She lived upstairs. It wasn’t like they could sneak a workman in without her noticing.

Wait.

Alice recalled a recent weekend when Marilyn and Franklin insisted that she take a few days off; during the busy season, no less.

They asked her to visit a contact of theirs in Canada who specialized in Staffordshire ceramics.

They told her they wanted to install the remote door locks, triggered by a button under the register.

They said she should consider the “time off” their present to her for her birthday.

They must have had the cameras installed then.

She was particularly hurt, as she’d thought for once they were doing something nice for her.

She’d been such a fool. She’d been grateful for the time away, even if it was months after her actual birthday.

Then they’d used security measures against her . The one thing she’d asked them to do that they’d followed through with, something that would make her feel safe, and they’d weaponized it.

Arthur materialized by his cabinet, shaking his head sadly. “Are you all right, miss? These two seem like right bast—rude people.”

Alice shook her head because she was not all right. She’d done everything they’d ever demanded of her and more, and it was never good enough. They’d rewarded hard work and earnest effort with scorn and secret cameras.

Meanwhile, Marilyn was still screeching—apparently unable to see Arthur because he didn’t want her to.

“We knew it would come to this. We knew nothing good could come of you spending time with that girl up at Shaddow House. We knew it was going to give you ideas, ideas like stealing from your grandparents, who spent the best years of their lives investing their time and attention in you.”

Time and attention, but not love.

Investment, but not love.

Through the scorching prickle of rage, Alice was struck by a sudden sadness for her mother.

If Felicity Seastairs had lived, Marilyn and Franklin would have treated her exactly the same.

Even if Alice’s parents had lived a long happy life together with a houseful of children, the Proctors would have lamented the ruin of Felicity’s life and all their plans for her.

Felicity could have chased their approval until they died, and she never would have gotten it.

The worst part was, the Proctors’ behavior wasn’t rooted in love. It wasn’t the grief of losing their only child that made them act this way. It was a pervasive dissatisfaction with life. And Alice might feel sorry for them if they weren’t such absolute—

Would it really be so bad, to be disowned by her grandparents?

No, that was wrong, she corrected herself, as that fire in her gut was banked by the more familiar guilt.

She took another deep breath to steady her nerves.

And she recalled how her grandparents had made considerable sacrifices to raise her.

They’d never planned on raising a baby in their golden years and it would be ungrateful to abandon them when they were just starting to enjoy their lives.

Alice commanded her brain to slow down, to consider what was happening around her. What was the real damage here? Given the angle, the camera couldn’t have recorded what she’d taken from Arthur’s drawer. The camera had been pointed at the back of his armoire.

The burning anxiety melted away and all she could feel was the indignity of it all.

“You don’t know what I took out of the shop in that bag,” she said. “It could have been my laundry, for all you know.”

Marilyn sniffed. “I doubt that very much. Whatever it was, we insist you bring it back this instant.”

Alice felt her magic dig somewhere deep within her chest, to where that tiny ember of rage flared. She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “No. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Her grandmother’s head reared back as if she’d been slapped—which was a bit outrageous, considering the difference in their approaches. Alice hadn’t just screamed at Marilyn .

To Alice’s surprise, it was Franklin who responded. “Don’t make us take more drastic measures, Alice. You know what we did capture on camera? You, standing in this room, talking to yourself. That’s more than enough evidence to have you sent away somewhere—somewhere you can’t cause so much trouble.”

Alice blinked at him. This was a surprise, coming from Franklin.

Her grandfather wasn’t exactly the soft touch.

But he was distant and withholding, rather than confrontational.

In general, he simply stood behind her grandmother, glaring, the enforcer.

She knew it could have been much worse, but she’d never pushed back hard enough for him to get involved.

One of her homeschooling assignments in high school had been on the perils of the foster-care system.

At the time, her grandparents thought her gratitude was waning.

Now, Alice supposed they thought that gratitude was nonexistent.

“It wouldn’t be difficult to convince everyone on this island it’s the best thing for you,” Marilyn added, apparently recovered from the awful assault of being told no. “Your mother had her problems, you know.”

Alice’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth.

She was… She was pissed . Yes, even though she was hearing the curse words in Caroline’s voice in her head—she was pissed off, pissed right the fuck off.

The little flame of anger flashed, and somehow, she managed to bite out, “No one’s ever said anything like that to me. ”

Marilyn huffed, rolling her eyes. “We’ve tried to protect you from the talk, but we can’t do that if you keep behaving like her. All you have to do is be a good girl and do what little we ask.”

Good girl.

Alice nearly stumbled back a step. It hurt, hearing Clark’s words thrown in her face. All she could feel was pain, a soul-deep scar of guilt that might never close. Why wasn’t her coven feeling this? Why were they leaving her all alone?

Fuck this , the angry internal voice told her . Run.

She had to get out of there. She had to move.

She wasn’t scurrying. She was bolting , like a rabbit on the run from wolves.

She didn’t remember touching the shop door.

She wasn’t sure how she was doing it in heels, but she didn’t even feel her feet hitting the ground.

She needed to get to Shaddow House. Nowhere else was safe.