Page 9

9

CALLIE

I wave goodbye to the firemen, a forced smile on my face. I'm not sure what they think they know, but they certainly kept trying to get something out of me over breakfast.

They want to take me home now, too, but I don't want to let them. I know how it'll go. The moment I strap myself into the firetruck, they'll continue the questioning about everything and anything.

And right now, I don't want to deal with it. There's something off about this town, and I'm going to find out what it is. Other than the fact that there are witches and golems here. Oh, and vampires, I can't forget about those. Or whatever Will is.

The questions are mounting up. On the plus side, I'm not the weirdest thing in town now. Which is something.

Not that it leaves me any closer to discovering any answers, hence why I asked the boys to leave me to it.

Unable to help myself, I adjust my backpack and pull the paper out of my pocket again. It’s still blank. Not even a trace of the Latin words that I’d seen on it a short time ago.

"How the hell is this possible?"

It has to be magic, of course. But that doesn’t help me. I shove the paper in my pocket, promising to get to that mystery at a later date. But for now, one of my leads seems to be dead.

The good thing? I still had one more to go on.

"I have to find the Seaside Shack," I mutter. I wish I had my recorder with me, but it's out of battery, and with the past few action-packed nights, I've forgotten to charge it.

That'll teach me to be so careless with important stuff.

At a loss for what else to do, I head out to the center of town. I'm sure some people are around who may want to have a little gossip. No one talks more openly than people thinking they have the next juicy bit of information. Particularly little old ladies.

If I had control over my cat, I could go hang out at the old people’s homes. They must have loads of information there .

Except, I'm not so sure I'm right. Partly because I don't seem to have seen that many old people. Though if the woman Will talked to last night was to be believed, she was an old person, even though she didn't look the part.

"Bloody vampires, always complicating things," I mutter darkly.

"You shouldn't say things like that around here," a woman chides in my ear.

I spin around, expecting to come face to face with someone, but the only person around is a woman with dreadlocks and far too many shawls about a foot away from me.

"What did you say?" I ask, fearing I'm going to sound crazy but knowing it'll be easy to brush off if she didn't hear anything.

"You need to be careful what you say around here," she repeats softly. "And what you think."

My eyes widen. People can hear what I'm thinking?

I feel sorry for them .

I almost laugh at myself but stop just in time. There's no faster way to make myself look crazy. Well, crazier. Though in this town, maybe not.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I'm hoping she'll take my words to mean she needs to expand on what she's saying.

"Be mindful of what you say and think, Callie. You don't know who is listening."

I open my mouth to respond, but she's no longer there. I turn to face the other way, only to find the same woman deep in a conversation with someone across the street. So deep that there's no chance she’d been talking to me seconds before. Huh. And when I thought that things couldn’t get any stranger.

Is her warning real? Or is it something I'm making up because I want this place to be magical? Either feels possible, and I don't know which I believe more.

The woman moves her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine, and she winks.

Oh. Alright then. I'm not imagining things. Probably.

Without any clue what to do with myself, I head away from the woman and toward the shops. I’m still full, but another coffee won't go amiss. It never does.

I glance around as I walk, watching for something, anything , that will prove I'm right about this town. More right than the flames coming from Will's hands in the middle of the night makes me.

The pub will have the answers; a little part of me is sure about that. Richard Cockburn told me that's where he'd gone and made a deal. And while the vampires last night didn't say where they had, I bet it's the same place. A shudder goes down my spine at the v-word. How have I found myself in a world of virgin sacrifices and blood-drinkers desperate to have babies?

Even so, it's the witches I'm looking for. The ones I'm certain have the answers to all of my problems—like the wayfaring cat with a mind of her own. I want to know what's wrong with me and how I can fix it. The last thing I want is to be stuck like this for the rest of my life.

Just like a lot of things, being able to change into a cat sounds a lot cooler than it is.

A waft of freshly ground coffee comes from a large cafe with wrought-iron tables outside. It tickles my nose and entices me in. I'm here to talk to people; that's a good enough excuse for me to go and get some caffeine at the same time as finding out some information.

At least, that's my excuse. I'm lucky my cat seems to run on the stuff too.

The moment I step inside the coffee shop, I can tell there's something wrong with this place. What looks lively and full of people from the outside is a vacuum of nothingness. No one's talking. There must be a dozen people here and none of them seem to be doing anything except drinking their coffee.

I approach the counter, nerves fluttering in my stomach. This is something I'd normally report on my blog, but with all the extra strange things that are happening, I don't think I'm going to need this.

"A latte, extra shot, please?" I ask the server.

She nods and quickly makes up my coffee. There's nothing too off about her, but it's enough to set off the alarm bells in the back of my mind again.

"That's three dollars and twenty cents," she tells me and holds out an outstretched palm for me to place my money in.

I dig into my pocket and hand her exact change, then put several quarters in the tip jar. "Is it always this quiet here?" I ask.

Please tell me something useful . If I beg enough, albeit silently, she'll tell me something I can use, surely.

"Yes."

"What's causing it?" I may as well try and get that out of her.

"No." That’s not an answer, but okay.

"Has it always been this way?"

"No."

I pause for a moment, weighing up whether or not there's any point in asking her more questions.

"Do you know where the Seaside Shack is?" I ask, deciding that's the only thing worth trying to get out of her at this point.

"Yes."

I close my eyes and try not to lose my patience with her. "Will you tell me where it is?" I stress the word so she gets the message.

"Walk down High Street, then turn left and carry on for five minutes. You'll know it when you see it." She shrugs and turns away to clean the coffee machine.

Alright then, I know when I'm not wanted .

I leave the cafe, the paper cup warming my hand, though after how weirdly the people drinking coffee are acting in there, I'm not sure I want to drink it.

The streets don't have many people on them, but that makes sense. Most of them will be at work, doing whatever it is that they do.

"Time to go to the pub," I say to myself.

The moment the Seaside Shack appears in front of me, I understand what the barista was talking about. It looks exactly like I expect it to look. Rundown, with at least three roof tiles missing. I imagine that inside, I'll find a persistent drip that no one can ever get rid of, dim lighting, and at least one dingy fish tank. Probably with a dead fish in it.

But I still need to go in there .

Richard Cockburn is my only real lead. Unless I count the firemen themselves, but the jury is still out there. It could be that it's all a weird dream caused by my curse, though even I have to admit that seems unlikely.

"Why can't things be simple?" I ask myself.

The urge to knock fills me the moment I'm in reach of the pub door. I'm not sure what about it is making me feel that way, but I need to get over it. I'm allowed inside. I have money, and I’m old enough to buy a drink legally. There's nothing to be nervous about.

A loud squeak from the door makes me jump, and my cat almost charges to the front. Huh. If I'm not mistaken, that can almost be taken as a sign that there's some control coming. Maybe.

That's wishful thinking .

To my surprise, the inside of the Seaside Shack isn't what I expected it to be. The lighting is decent, and as far as I can tell, there's no leak. It's almost modern in appearance. If I hadn't already seen the outside, I'd never guess this is what's inside.

"What can I get for you?" the barmaid asks brightly, a true contrast to the coffee shop. This is getting stranger by the minute.

"A cola, please." I don't need the drink; I've only just finished my coffee and ditched the cup in a trash can, but it feels rude not to order one.

"Ice?"

"Please. And lemon if you have it."

She nods and bustles about, swiftly producing the drink and setting it down in front of me. At least she doesn’t react to my preference for lemon in my cola like everyone else always does.

"Now, what are you here for?" she asks more firmly.

"I'm sorry?" I blink a few times, taking a moment to make sense of what she's asking.

"Look, people don't come here unless they want something." She leans on the bar, a stern look on her face like she doesn't want to take any shit from anyone. "Especially before noon."

"And if I do want something?" I ask, moving so we're closer together and more like co-conspirators.

"What's it to be? Eternal beauty? A love potion? Wealth?" She almost sounds bored as she rattles off the list.

"I..."

The door slams open.

"Callie," Will demands.

I roll my eyes. Can't they start turning up after I catch a break?

"Will." In one word, the barmaid's complete demeanor changes. She stands up straight and glares at him.

"Hi, Mel." He waves at her and gives a flirty smile.

I narrow my eyes, ignoring the slight growl that's trying to break free. I don't like seeing him act this way around other women.

Whoa, where did that come from?

"They're looking for you," she says in a low tone.

"I know," Will responds.

"I can't serve you," Mel tells me.

"What? Why?" Somehow, I understand that she's not just talking about the soda.

"I can't." She turns away and looks at the unwelcome intruder with a stern glare. "Don't let her come back here, Will."

"She wouldn't be here in the first place if I had anything to do with it," he mutters. I'm sure from the volume of his voice that he doesn't mean for me to hear.

I glare at him, already secretly softening to the protective stance of his body. Not that I want to admit it to myself.

"We need to go," he says louder.

"Why should I do what you say?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips and staring him down.

"Because, in this case, I know what's best for you."

I purse my lips, unsure how to respond to that without sounding like a spoiled brat who does need someone to look out for her.

Dropping my arms to my sides, I stalk forward, trying to channel the grace of my cat and failing when I stumble over one of my own feet. I point a finger at his chest, trying not to remember how it looks without any clothing at all.

Focus, Callie .

"Listen here, Will. I don't need looking after, I don't want to be followed around, and I certainly don't need to be told what to do." Instead of storming off like my original plan, I pause, listening to his breathing with rapt attention.

This has to be my cat's doing. I know it's certainly not me. No way.

"I know you don't," he admits. "But can we maybe have this conversation away from here?"

My eyebrows knit together. "Alright, fine. But you owe me cake."

"Cake?" He chuckles.

"Yes. It's been one hell of a week, and now I want cake. You're going to take me for yummy goodness and an explanation, or so help me..."

Will chuckles. "Alright, alright. Cake and talking."

I catch myself scowling at his back as he turns and walks away. I also catch myself staring at his ass, which might not be the best way of showing him I'm mad.

But so long as I get the answers I want, I don't mind.

For now.