Page 14 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

N athan and I spent the better part of an hour examining the wooden chest. When I retrieved the box from my car, I left the pouch, journal, and key in the vehicle. He would only get to inspect the chest itself.

“There wasn’t anything inside of it?” Nathan asked for the fourth time. “Are you sure?” The tone of his voice was untrusting, and I was a terrible liar. I continued to deny the existence of any contents.

“I believe this was crafted sometime in the late 1600’s, quite possibly early 18th century.” I pushed the conversation forward.

“Yes,” he said, looking up to me with a raised brow. “You’ve said that.” In his hands, the wooden chest seemed so small. His nose was an inch away from it as he identified which type of wood the structure comprised. “White Pine…though, this piece shows absolutely no sign of aging. Where did you say you found this?” He placed the chest down onto the bed.

“It was given to me, here on the island.” It was enough of the truth without outright lying.

“That explains the stone inlay,” Nathan nearly whispered. Confusion must have been apparent on my face because he continued, “There are dormant volcanoes near this part of Maine. Surprisingly, it is not a well-known fact, but there are traces of dacite, often mistaken for obsidian, in some of these outlying islands. They share similar properties but are created at different levels of heat. Dacite is stone, whereas Obsidian is glass.”

“Since when did you switch from anthropologist to geologist?” I laughed, stopping immediately from the darkening of his eyes.

“Unfortunately, they go hand in hand, rocks and civilization, and I’ve learned too many lessons from the conflicts of humanity over the years.” As if that wasn’t cryptic or anything. “Some things I have discovered should have stayed buried.”

Those words replayed in my head a thousand times, even long after I drove Nathan back to the harbor. Hearing him repeat the words that were written in the journal from the cove haunted me.

“I’m staying on the mainland for another day. Call me if you like playing one of our little games again.” Still feeling unnerved, I managed a smile. Nathan didn’t wait for me to respond, kissing me so passionately that my knees went weak. I almost said fuck it and climbed onto the ferry with him, but I held true to my convictions. “Goodbye, doll,” he purred those words like final punctuation.

As I pulled into my driveway, Ferran, with judging eyes, waited on the curb. While Nathan had been in my home, the grey creature stood post on the balcony, staring at the two of us through the door the entire time.

“Don’t worry little one, it’s over. I won. I didn’t play his game.” I said the words more for my own sake, but they didn’t land quite as hard as I wanted them to. Ferran continued to stare. “Ready to go to the vet?” His chartreuse eyes widened in response to my question. “Come on.”

I laid the contents back into the chest and put the entire box into a tote bag. I didn’t have a leash or a cat carrier, so I was extremely lucky that Ferran followed me like a lamb. As if they were summoned, Martin and Pilot came barreling down one of the side streets from the direction of the pine forest to join us for our walk to the vet.

“What do the three of you do all day anyway?” Martin replied by landing on my shoulder, and my shock made me want to scream. I had never been that close to a bird, especially one so massive. At least with Pilot, I could almost pretend he was just a weird-looking dog.

“Hey, Rai,” Bridget called out to me from behind the reception desk of the vet office as I walked in. I scooped Ferran up into my arms before Martin and Pilot shot in the opposite direction from the office.

Bridget handed me some paperwork to fill out, taking Ferran from me. “We’ll be back when we’re done. Sorry, we’ll have to wait to catch up till after work.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she swiftly disappeared to the back rooms.

A few other pet parents were there, having wrapped up their own appointments, as I sat down. Leaving most of the paperwork blank, I only filled out his name and “male”. A text from Sarah came through the group chat as I set the pen down.

Sarah:

At The Wicker Basket. I brought wine.

B has Ferran, we can head over shortly. Should we bring food?

Sarah:

Nope, Anabel made chicken pot pie.

Bridget:

EXCELLENT!

Sarah:

Get back to work!

Stop texting, B!

Sarah:

I’ll see you guys later.

The vet walked out carrying Ferran, who was a pile of mush relaxing in her arms.

“He’s a sweet boy. And seemingly healthy. Bring back a fecal test, and we can confirm. Looks like this cutie is about 3 years old.” He power-purred as she held him. “I gave him all the shots he needed, since Bridget explained he’s an outdoor cat. He should be protected now, please let us know if you see him acting unusual or if you have any questions.” Ferran intensely purred as the vet handed him off to me.

“Thank you,” I beamed, and the vet gave me a friendly smile before walking back through the exam room doors.

“Let me finish up a couple things. I’ll meet you outside,” Bridget said after running my debit card.

Outside the vet’s office, I could see the bloodshot sky from the setting sun. Ferran nuzzled under my chin before wiggling out of my arms.

“Bud, I have to make sure you’re ok tonight, so you need to come home for bedtime.” I spoke as if the cat understood common English, but he did pause to listen to me. He gave a small “meh” before likely running off to find Martin and Pilot.

“Ready?” Bridget came out of the office door.

I jolted. “Jeez, announce yourself next time!” I smacked her arm. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, we have so much to talk about and there’s wine.” Bridget grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the sidewalk.

We stopped short as a woman with pitch black hair locked up Daisy Chic and stepped out in front of us.

“You’re still here?” Tamara Flint spat at me.

“Yeah, so what the fuck are you going to do about it, Tamara? What is this? Westside Story?” Bridget met the woman head-to-head.

“Wait, so you’re really like this?” I confronted Tamara. Her piercing green eyes shot to mine. I was sure she was trying to intimidate me, but I truly had no patience. “You seriously have an issue with me because I’m new here? Are we not all grown women?” I gestured between the three of us.

“Well, a couple of us are,” Bridget said without taking her eyes off Tamara, whose cheeks flushed pink.

I would have laughed at the ridiculousness that was Tamara Flint if I hadn’t been within arm’s reach of the crazy lady. As our standoff stretched on, I looked over my shoulder, hearing someone whisper something, though I couldn’t make out the words. Turning my head to Bridget, it was evident that she heard nothing, but it was the look on Tamara’s face that made the blood drain from my face. She heard the whisper, too. Her eyes shot down to the tote bag I held over my shoulder.

“What do you have in there?” She threw the words at me, sharp as knives.

“None of your business,” Bridget shot back. “What is your deal?”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t feel like humoring you any longer. Tamara, I am Raina, and if you ever want to sit down and hash it out, let me know, but until then, this seems like a you problem, and I don’t have time for it. Have a great evening.” I dismissively as I shouldered past her.

Tamara grabbed my upper arm, turning me to face her, her nose only a few inches from mine.

“You do not belong here. You need to go.”

“I’m here to stay, so get over whatever it is that you’re worried about.” She released me as I felt a shock of static snap between us. Tamara looked at her hand and then back to me, huffed and walked off.

Bridget groaned. “She’s literally always been like that, but she’s gotten so much worse over the last couple years. You’d think hooking up with someone, even if it was Cole, would cheer her up. Instead, it’s only made her misery spill out onto other people’s lives.” We walked the remainder of the short blocks to the metaphysical shop in minutes.

“Let’s get started.” Sarah handed us each a glass of wine as we stepped inside The Wicker Basket. She grabbed the tote bag from me and placed it on one of the small tables. “B, can you please flip the sign and lock the door?” Bridget did what was asked. “Cheers, to us.” Sarah raised her glass, and we followed suit. We clanked, we drank, and we laughed.

“I have, most definitely, had a day.” I slumped down onto the couch, curling up against the arm of it. Sarah carefully lifted the chest out of the bag and set it onto the other table. She then tucked the tote bag behind the plush chair. “I don’t even know where to begin.” I downed the rest of my glass of wine.

“Wow, guess so.” Bridget raised her brows as she poured me another glass. “Well, start from the beginning.”

“When the chest opened by itself, or when I almost got run over by Cole at the harbor, or when Nathan suddenly showed up and I basically broke up with him?”

“Wait, so you two were actually dating?” Sarah asked, tucking her legs under herself on the chair. Bridget leaned her back against the counter.

“For lack of a better phrase.” I snorted into my wine.

“What were you even doing at the harbor?” Bridget asked. I filled them in about shipments for work.

“I had to speak to Cole. It was so awkward.” I cringed and shook my head. “The strangest thing, though, is that it actually was Cole in my dream. But that makes the least sense of all. There’s zero connection between us in real life. We’d never met before, like he did not know me, and truthfully, there wasn’t anything in me that recognized him. Not in the way we had known each other in the dream. To be really honest, he seems like a complete asshole.”

“You obviously have a type,” Sarah laughed sarcastically. I stared daggers at her. “I’m joking! Nathan is bad, but not that bad right?”

“No, he’s alright. He doesn’t pretend to be anything different, and I can appreciate that. The ferry arrived while I was at the harbor.”

“You’re telling me he came all the way to Redd Hills for a booty call?” Bridget shook her head.

“You know, at this point, I don’t even know. I can’t read him. He said he was worried about me and wanted to check in…to say sorry.”

Sarah shifted in her seat. “Please don’t tell me you fell for that bullshit.”

“Almost!” I admitted. “Nathan said all the right things, even tried giving me the illusion of a true connection. I was so close to giving in, but no, I didn’t actually fall for it. Instead, we talked about the chest. I showed him the box but nothing else. He helped verify that it was, in fact, from the early 1700’s.”

Anabel came out carrying a pie and set it on the counter next to Bridget. It smelled delicious, like roasted chicken and browned butter. In an instant, my mouth watered in anticipation of the potpie. Sarah ran to the back room and emerged with plates, silverware, and linen napkins. It never occurred to me until now that this was also Anabel’s home. “Did I hear you correctly?” Anabel asked. “You said the chest opened by itself?” The old woman turned to look at me with her sparkling blue eyes, which were shadowed by her furrowed brow, as she waited for me to respond.

“It did,” I said, unsure of how to put it into words.

“What were you doing when it happened?” she pressed. The other two women grew quiet.

“I placed both hands on it, shut my eyes, and focused on my senses—scents, sounds, how I felt. Then, I imagined it opening.”

“And then it opened,” Anabel softly said. “Interesting,” she pondered as she began to walk towards the back room. “Looks like you both found your third.” She spoke to Bridget and Sarah, both grinning broadly at the statement.

“I know you said there is more power in threes, but what exactly does that mean?” I asked the girls.

“Did you ever want to be in a coven?” Sarah was jittery with excitement, her curls bouncing wildly.

“Like a real one?” I received a look of confirmation from Bridget.

“Listen,” she began, “I’ve always been more skeptical than not, but ever since you got here, things have changed. I feel it.” Straight to the point like usual.

“Mhmm, me too.” Sarah couldn’t sit still. “So, let’s do it. I’m sure there’s an initiation ritual or something in the Book of Shadows.” Sarah glanced over her shoulder toward the back room where her family’s grimoire was kept.

“It doesn’t have one. I looked through it immediately after meeting Raina.” Bridget finished her wine and quickly refilled. I took a moment to devour three large spoonfuls of the potpie.

“Oh my.” I gave a low, satisfied groan, “Damn, this is so good!” The herbs and spices danced on my tongue and made me feel so present. All the chaos and distractions of the day faded away with each bite. The sense of sudden clarity was an answer to a prayer I hadn’t yet sent out into the universe. “You asked if my family had a spellbook as well, but I don’t think my parents were practicing. If anything, the witchiest thing my mom ever did was tend her garden. My dad, well, he liked to go for hikes. He often treated them as if we were treasure hunting, and he’d take us inside all of these cave systems. Not witchy, but super fun.”

“Eamon?” Bridget asked. I shook my head.

“No, my dad passed away soon after my fourteenth birthday. Actually, next month will be eleven years since he died.”

“Wait, so your birthday just happened?” Sarah leaned forward, nearly spilling her wine.

“No, actually.” I took a moment to think. “It’s this Friday.” I had completely forgotten. Bridget held a curious expression. She noticed me staring.

“Sorry, I was just doing some quick math. How old is RJ?” she asked.

“He’s ten…” I trailed off.

“Your mom was pregnant when your dad died? That is just so sad.” Sarah frowned.

“N–no,” I fumbled. “RJ is Eamon’s.”

“You’re sure your mom wasn’t pregnant when your dad died? The math isn’t mathing.” Bridget repeated the question, taking a long sip of her wine, which I mimicked. It was my turn for arithmetic.

“Oh, my goodness, no. No, at least I don’t think so?” The statement came out as a question, upending so much of the last decade of my life.