Page 6 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

C hoking on the scream that fought its way out of my throat, I dove across my bed to turn the lamp on, and the sudden brightness nearly blinded me. Blinking through my burned retinas, my vision cleared to see no one was there. Blankets entangled my legs as I tripped out of the bed. Once free, I raced to the door and rushed out onto the balcony.

Slivers of moonlight casted enough luster to reveal that not a soul was there. The street was empty. The treeline was undisturbed. After triple-checking the entire vicinity, I stepped back inside and gasped at the little surprise rubbing against my legs.

“Jeez, Ferran. You just scared me so badly.” My heart pounded as the grey cat sat in the doorway licking his paw. “I swear, I saw someone out here.” I picked Ferran up and walked inside. I shut and locked the door just to be safe. My nerves were on overdrive, sending a flood of intrusive thoughts as I walked to the front door to ensure it was locked as well. My heartbeat would not slow down, even though I was clearly seeing things. I didn’t hesitate to call Jeff to calm myself down.

Jeff answered before the phone rang a second time. “Is it RJ?” He sounded wide awake despite the very late hour.

“N—no, I just…” I stuttered, wondering why he would assume RJ was in trouble, especially when he lived in the same house. It then occurred to me that Jeff hadn’t been home yet.

“Where are you? I’m on my way,” he assured me as I heard him start his truck.

“I’m at my apartment. I thought someone was on my balcony, but I must have been seeing things. I turned the light on, and no one was there.”

“See you in a minute.” He hung up.

With my phone in my hand, I noticed an unread text from a few hours ago.

Nathan:

You weren’t lying. You are a bad girl, standing me up.??

You better be ready for the next time I see you. I’ll make you scream.????

If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with fighting my midnight demons, I wouldn’t have hesitated taking Nathan’s bait. At that moment, his game was the furthest thing from my mind.

The rumbling of Jeff’s truck was deafening on the sleeping street. His boots only hit three steps before he knocked on my door, having skipped a few as he climbed. Shouldering past me, he investigated every dark corner of the small apartment, taking a few extra moments in the bathroom.

“Jeff, you really didn’t have to come over,” I said. He turned his blazing eyes on me, their hazel matching mine.

“I did.” That was it. He said nothing else as he removed his boots and left them by the door.

Ferran emerged from under the bed, likely having hidden from my brother’s heavy footsteps as he walked around the place, inspecting every shadow. The cat’s fluffy face tilted as he sniffed the air around Jeff. Ferran must have approved Jeff’s presence because he quickly ran over to his boots and aggressively began to make biscuits.

“Not cool, bud.” Jeff scooped up the cat, stopping further damage to his work boots. The cat melted and purred in his arms. Jeff mindlessly scratched Ferran’s ears. “When did you get him?” He looked up at me.

“He decided to move in,” I quipped, looking at the time on my phone, “Like, yesterday.”

“You gonna keep her safe?” he asked the cat. Ferran responded by headbutting my brother’s face.

“You really don’t need to stay,” I said as I sat on the bed. However, with my big brother here, I immediately felt safer. Within moments, I felt tiredness take over again, and I laid back down.

“Sleep. I’ll make sure you’re just crazy , and a serial killer isn’t actually out there trying to get you.” He smirked and sat on the floor. Ferran curled up in his lap and shut his eyes.

When I awoke again, the ruby glow of the sun shone through the windows. Jeff was in the bathroom washing his face with Ferran at his feet.

“What time is it?” I called out.

“Just after eight.” He turned the water off, and I jumped out of the bed.

“Eight? Why aren’t you at work?” He couldn’t risk getting fired so quickly.

“Talked to my boss—let him know my kid sister needed saving.” He nudged me as he walked by and looked around the kitchen. “No shipments today til noon. Rai, where’s your coffee?”

With the coffee pot still packed away somewhere in the garage below, we had no choice but to head to The Brew House.

“What the—?” Jeff spotted the crow and fox in the tree line beside my apartment as soon as we stepped onto the sidewalk. Becoming accustomed to their consistent visits, I gave them a curt smile and waved.

“They’re friends with Ferran,” I said, accepting that they would be hanging around. Jeff gave me a look and raised a brow. Shrugging, I began to walk towards the smell of roasting coffee. My Brown University hoodie and leggings made me look overdressed compared to Jeff’s rag-thin tee shirt and dirty Carhartt pants. He bulked up in the short weeks I had last seen him. “So, is your job hard?”

“Not really, no. Boss is cool. He doesn’t say much as long as I get shit done.” He slid his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes forward. I looked up at him, grateful he decided to move here, too.

“I’m glad we’re all here together,” I said, bumping my shoulder against his arm as we walked. “Thank you for being here.”

“Seemed like the right thing to do,” he said, furrowing his brow as we approached The Brew House.

A woman exited the coffee shop, slamming the door open in a rush. She was dressed in dark green scrubs and carrying a drink tray that balanced four cups of coffee with a fifth jammed in the center. Losing her poise as she tried to avoid colliding with Jeff, her long platinum hair whirled around her head as she held onto the tray with every ounce of effort.

“Whoa.” Jeff grabbed the woman by the shoulders to help steady her. “Sorry,” he apologized, letting go once she regained her footing.

“No, my bad.” She looked up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.” She glanced past Jeff, spotting me, and her green eyes shifted between my brother and me. Perhaps I was overthinking it, but I swore her face fell slightly with disappointment. “Thanks.” She nodded before she turned and walked off.

I moved toward the door, but Jeff stood in place, watching as the woman entered three buildings up Peak Drive.

“That’s the vet’s office,” he murmured, noting it for himself.

“Is it?” He looked at me as if remembering I was still there. That was good to know. He pulled the door open and held it for me as I walked through.

In the same fashion as yesterday morning, the patrons in the shop watched as I ordered our coffees. Soon, I reminded myself. Soon, they will get over it. We will be locals soon. Jeff hadn’t even noticed a few women gawking as we seated ourselves. Truthfully, he never noticed the side effects of being a man in this world. Regardless, we tucked into the largest and gooiest cinnamon buns I had ever seen. Full, happy, and properly caffeinated, we left The Brew House.

“I’m going to walk around.” I looked toward the alley where The Wicker Basket was hidden.

“You’re good?” Jeff lowered his brows as he took two steps backward toward my apartment and his truck.

“For sure. Thanks again for coming by last night.” I shooed him off, releasing him from his big-brother duties. Jeff nodded, casually turning with his hands back in his pockets, and headed down Peak Drive.

While the crisp sea mist hung thinly in the air, the sunrise warmed my face as I approached the quaint alley. Lightness filled me as I met the storefront of The Wicker Basket.

“Chamomile, again?” Anabel asked as I walked into the tiny store, surprised it was open so early. Sitting on the small tables were the tea tray and a plate of cookies. She handed me a cup, still quite hot as if anticipating my arrival.

“Thank you,” I said. The couch was as inviting as ever. “How did you know I was coming in?” I asked, taking a careful sip.

“Just a feeling,” Anabel smirked. She was constantly moving, bustling around the shop. “Sarah is coming back this afternoon. You might run into her.” She wrapped individual handmade soaps and added them one by one to the display on a nearby shelf.

Watching her work had a calming effect. Every movement she made was intentional, as if her mindfulness held a clandestine power. Regaining myself from musings, I interrupted her work with a question. “You said that you have family in Boston?” Anabel nodded with a warm smile.

“Originally from Salem, but when things got too messy, our ancestors headed to the growing city.”

My eyes widened. “Too messy? You mean…”

Anabel busied herself with jars of assorted gemstone beads, taking a moment before continuing. “Certain practices and skills were passed down each generation.” She gestured to the shop. It all fell into place as I understood what she implied.

“You practice witchcraft?” I asked, and a small shiver of intrigue had me sitting straighter. She chuckled, bemused with my anticipation.

“I heal more than just the body, and I get help from the earth and the universe’s energy to do so,” she said. “To some, they call it witchcraft, yes.” Anabel centered a small vase on the coffee table. I took another sip of tea, which was now cold. “At one time, there were quite a few Salem descendants on the island. We have a long history, rich with lore.” Her eyes shined, and the corners of her mouth rose.

“What sort of lore?” I asked. She lit a trio of candles, a white pillar, an orange tealight, and a black tapered one. Something shifted in the air, and I felt a serene energy expand inside me, like taking a deep breath after depriving myself of oxygen for far too long.

Anabel walked around the counter and pulled out an ancient-looking tome. The book had yellowed, worn-out pages that no longer laid flat, adding to the thickness of the spine. The energy that I felt fluttered in response as Anabel opened the grimoire’s cover.

“W—what sort of lore?” I repeated warily as I took apprehensive steps toward the counter. Goosebumps slowly climbed up my neck. My eyes never strayed from Anabel’s, watching as her smile lines settled, becoming somber and almost reverent.

“My dear, are you sure you want to know?” She pulled her crocheted shawl closer to her chest, and I nodded decisively. Anabel turned the pages and settled on a sketch of a pirate ship. It was cracked, half under violent waves. The aged parchment looked frail but held strong as she turned the page once more to reveal a charcoal drawing of what seemed to be a widow standing on the shoreline looking out over a storm-ridden horizon.

“As the story goes, this island holds a great secret.” She shut the book, resting both hands on its aged leather cover. Propping my elbows on my knees, I leaned in, trying to take in every word.

Bells jingled as the door of the Wicker Basket flew open. Caught off guard, my elbow slipped and sent my tea splashing.

“Hey, Grams!” The bounciest woman I had ever seen cheerfully walked through the door. Her tight brown curls sprang around her face, and they lit up even more once she spotted me. “Oh! You must be Raina.” She skipped to the chair beside me and plopped down, curves and curls dancing with each step. I quickly glanced at Anabel, who was quietly laughing.

“Raina, please meet my granddaughter, Sarah,” she chuckled, “who seems to be home a bit early.” Raising a brow, she continued, “and seems to have forgotten to give her Grams a hug!” Sarah jumped up, her hair exaggerating the movement.

“I am so sorry, Grams.” Sarah rushed around the counter and squeezed Anabel. She made her way back to sit next to me. “Well, I’ve heard so much about you!” Her arm shot out, and she squeezed my hand. Looking at Sarah, hearing her bubbly voice, and feeling her whimsical energy, made me feel like I was whirling around in the middle of a field.

I couldn’t help myself as I giggled. “I am so happy to meet you. I have heard so much about you, too,” I squeezed her hand back. It was a relief to be in her presence. Sarah was proof that not everyone in this town was a rude grump. She and Anabel have been a welcome exception.

Sarah looked between Anabel and me. “I interrupted something, didn’t I?” She tilted her head as she searched the space between us, noticing the book atop the counter. “Oh,” her brows rose at the surprising sight. She slowly looked back at me. “How much has she told you?” Her words were heavy with caution.

“That basically your family is all witches.” I gave a tight smile. Yes, I enjoyed crystals, candles, and even tarot cards, but did I believe in tangible witchcraft? The kind where lightning shot out of your fingers, or where you could make the earth crack and swallow your ex-lover whole? For some reason, I pictured Nathan in that scenario. The honest answer, however, is no. I did not believe in cinematic witchcraft. If it did exist, well, that would be really cool.

Sarah shifted in her seat apprehensively as if she was gauging where I stood on the matter. The room was still filled with that charged, thick energy from before. “Well, we just practice a lot of healing and home remedies that may or may not be considered witchcraft.” Her words were chosen carefully as if she was feeling me out.

“I tend to do that as well.” I explained the candle rituals I do when I feel overwhelmed. Sarah’s shoulders relaxed , and Anabel put the enormous book away.

Sarah leaned back into the chair. “So, she told you about how we’re all cursed?”

“ Cursed ?”