Page 36 of Wicching Hour (The Sea Wicche Chronicles #3)

THIRTY-SIX

What?!

W hen we got back, I carried two chairs and Declan carried the rest. He didn’t like that. He wanted to carry them all, but that was silly. I had two arms just hanging off my body doing nothing. When I came around the corner of the gallery onto the deck, I found Bracken waiting.

He jumped up and took the chairs from me. “Let me, please.”

Declan followed closely behind. “Did Orla get home okay?”

“Yes,” Bracken said. “Lovely girl was so tired, she fell asleep on the drive. Luckily, she’s not a deep sleeper. I left her stumbling into her home to sleep properly.”

Flicking my fingers, I unlocked the door and tried to take a couple of the chairs from Declan.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “It’s more difficult to split them up now. If you could hold the door open, though, I’d appreciate it.”

I did and both Declan and Bracken brought the chairs in and set them up around my worktable.

A thought hit me. “I just remembered.” I went to one of my storage closets, the one with household things rather than art supplies, and rooted around until I found a long piece of folded material. “Mom gave me a tablecloth when I moved in—no idea why—but clearly she was thinking ahead.”

I flung it over the table and Bracken caught the far end, pulling it taut. The deep grooves from being folded for so long disappeared as he ran his hand along the cloth.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s lovely. Your mother clearly had you in mind when she chose this. If she were to buy one for herself, I imagine she’d lean more toward classic white or perhaps ecru.”

I laughed. “You’re very perceptive. I believe she does own multiple tablecloths in a variety of light neutrals.” I looked more closely at the fabric and my stomach dropped. I walked around to Bracken’s end, marveling that she’d done this for me. Pointing at it, I said, “I painted her a watercolor for her birthday years ago. It was the view of the ocean from her front window.” I tapped the fabric. “She had my painting turned into a tablecloth.” My throat tightened. Why was everything hitting me so hard today?

Declan wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head. “She gave you a little bit of herself and little bit of your childhood to take into your new home.”

I looked up at him. “I’m such an asshole. I never opened it. I just thought, what am I going to do with a tablecloth, and put it in the cupboard.”

“Stop it,” he said. “You’re not an asshole. You just hadn’t had a need for it before. You should take a pic and send it to her, so she knows that you know.”

I pulled out a chair, put a leg up, and started to climb up when Declan caught me around the middle and pulled me down. “You’re too tired and I don’t want you falling. Hand me your phone. I’ll take it for you.”

I started to argue and then realized he would get a better shot than me, as he’s much taller, so I opened my phone and handed it over. He stepped up, took the pic, and passed it back.

“Thank you.” I tapped on the pic and then caught a strange look pass between Bracken and Declan. “What?”

“What what?” Declan asked

I pointed between the two of them. “Why are you two acting weird?”

“I’ve been weird all my life, I’m afraid,” Bracken said, walking around the table. “There isn’t much I can do about it now.” He patted my shoulder as he went past.

“I didn’t mean it that way. You two were just—Oh, Declan, were you able to make those copies for me?”

Nodding, he went into his front pocket. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ve been carrying these around for a couple of days.” He held up three keys to my back door.

I took them from him and then handed one back. “Put that on your key ring.” I held out the second to Bracken. “I want you to be able to come in any time you want. You shouldn’t have to wait for me on the deck.”

He stared at it for a long moment. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. My home is your home.” I held it up higher. “Please.”

He took it from my hand like it was a priceless relic and then slipped it into his pocket.

“This one,” Declan said to Bracken while pointing at me, “is feeling off today, so it’s time for an ocean swim.”

I put my phone, key, and backpack on the table. After toeing off my sneakers, I slid off my gloves and walked out, passing Jake and Tyler. “Any cameras?”

“Not that we found,” Jake said.

I blew out a breath of relief and was therefore blindsided by what Tyler said next.

“We did, however, find a listening device in the ice plant over there.” Tyler pointed to the side of the gallery, near where the camera had been. He was holding an electronic device with the bottom hem of his t-shirt.

“What? He’s been listening to us?” My skin crawled and my stomach twisted. “He’s been—he heard all about you two this morning? My reading for the police. When…” He listened to me and my dad talking about him. I’d had precious few conversations with my father after a lifetime of wondering about him, and this asshole was listening in and taking notes? My stomach flipped again. I ran through the studio and into the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat just in time.

He'd had me under a microscope to review and dissect. He’d heard everything Declan and I said to each other, my talks with the raccoon babies, with Cecil and Wilbur… I was so busy freaking out, I didn’t realize that Declan had followed, that he was holding my hair and now pressing a wet washcloth to my forehead.

Empty, I took the cloth, wiped my face, and thumped back, my butt on the tile floor, feeling lost.

Declan crouched down and pushed my hair back. “Can you find him?”

“What?”

“Can you touch the recorder and find him,” he growled. “Let me do the rest.”

“You can’t.” I shook my head. “He’s human. Do you want Osso and the rest of the Justice League after you?” I grabbed his arm. “No endangering our newly formed plans.”

He stood, pulling me up with him. “We have to do something, love. We can’t have this creep sneaking around after you.”

Nodding, I patted his chest. “Let me think.”

When I walked out into the studio, Bracken was looking out the back window and Tyler was waiting for me in the kitchen, the electronic device still held in the fabric of his shirt.

“If it helps,” Tyler said, “this isn’t a sophisticated device. It does transmit, rather than record locally, but it isn’t sensitive enough to hear over the wind and surf. If you were standing near it and talking, he might have heard you. On the deck?” He shook his head. “We all have a tendency to speak quietly, as what we’re saying can be problematic if overheard and because we have sensitive hearing. You, less so and the human detective, not at all. Still, if he caught anything, it was probably indistinct murmuring. I’ve jammed it, so we should be okay, but I’m with Declan. We need to find this guy and stop him.”

I nodded, trying to calm my jittery stomach. “Come with me, please.” I led the way out onto the deck. I stepped onto a bench and then the railing.

“Arwyn?”

I turned to see Hernández back again. “Sorry. You’re going to have to wait a minute. Declan, can you give—holy crap!” I jumped back down and pulled the maps out of my back pocket with a shaking hand. I’d been so close to ruining everything.

I handed the papers to Declan. He felt my hand trembling and squeezed it.

“We’re okay,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” I whispered.

He pulled me into a fierce hug, and I let his body heat settle me.

“Can you ask Hernández to look up the owner of that one address Orla got?” I asked him.

“Of course.” His hands went in my back pockets.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m checking that nothing important is about to get wet.” He checked my front pockets and then patted me down. “You’re good.”

“You enjoyed that a little too much,” I muttered.

“Is there such a thing as too much enjoyment?” he responded.

I turned around to step back up on the bench and found myself on the railing, thanks to a very tall and strong boyfriend. I held out my hand to Tyler. “Hit me with it.”

He dropped it in my hand. I closed my fingers over it and as I started to feel a vision creeping up on me—even after touching Declan—I dove off the deck. When I hit the water, the vision overtook me.

Wearing all black, he walks along the verge, the gallery ahead. Dim security lights shine down around the building, illuminating the mural. It’s all right, though. He knows how to avoid the lights now. He can’t see cameras but assumes she must have them. She’s paranoid about security, which is ironic since she’s the one people should be afraid of.

He tries to keep his mind focused, to stop thinking about how beautiful she is. She cast a spell on him. He knows it. The only way to free himself is to get rid of her. His new friend, the woman who calls him with information about the witch, says the same. The only way any of us will be safe is if we destroy her.

He knows that’s right, but he can’t help wanting her. It’s a compulsion he fights every day. He dreams of having complete control over her, but that’s the spell she’s put on him. He’s never killed anyone before. He knows he has to, but he needs to be sure. It must be a righteous kill.

He feels a tingle go through him at the thought of overpowering her. Before he gets too close to the building, he walks down the short slope toward the jagged rocks at the ocean’s edge. His phone’s flashlight is turned low. He walks along the rocks and approaches her deck.

When he gets as close as he dares, he plants the gardening pole in a patch of tall seagrass and pulls a small webcam out of his pocket. He uses duct tape to secure it and checks the feed on his phone. Adjusting the pole, he makes sure the camera is pointed at her back door and deck.

He’s making his way over hazardous ground when a seal barks loudly behind him. Jumping, he drops his phone and then fumbles in the dark, trying to find it in the ice plant. The seal barks again. It feels closer. He isn’t sure why the seal makes him nervous, but it does.

His hand finally lands on a smooth screen. He picks it up, jams it in his pocket, and then pulls it back out for the flashlight. When he does, he inadvertently knocks the compact listening device out of his pocket. Not noticing, he continues back to the road and then to his car.

Show me where he is, I think as forcefully as I can.

He’s sitting in a small room. He has a plastic folding table against a wall that’s decorated with hundreds of photos of me. His laptop is open, a recording program up. He’s wearing professional-looking headphones and has a microphone plugged into his laptop. Right now, though, he’s listening.

“Brandon, you promised,” Calliope reminds him. “We talked about this. She’s evil. You have to send her back to Hell.”

He stares at his phone, listening intently, his fists clenched in his lap. “I will. I’m going to do it.”

“She won’t expect it from you. It’s perfect. She won’t see you as the threat you are. You have the gun, right? You’re ready.”

He nods, ignoring that niggling worry he can’t seem to shake. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Tonight,” she demands, and he feels the push, the drive to get it done.

“Yes. Tonight,” he echoes, pulling the gun from the back of his waistband. He’s been walking around the apartment with it, getting used to the feel of it, occasionally pulling it out to aim at his own reflection in the mirror. We’ll see if that giant of hers is feeling tough with a gun in his face.

Fixated, he gazes at the gun, loving the weight of it in his hand, unaware of the chanting coming through his headphones.

Where? I ask again.

The vision pulls out and I see the Pacific Place Apartments sign.

A large hand dropped onto my shoulder and my eyes flew open. Dad’s brilliant blue eyes put me at ease. His long hair tangled with mine in the buffeting waves. Sitting on the ocean floor, I looked up and saw the surface thirty feet above.

Emrys was worried about you. He said you didn’t respond to his nudges. His voice was in my head, but I wasn’t sure how to talk back.

I thought, I was in a vision.

He nodded, so I supposed it worked. Who was the man with the gun? I caught part of what you were seeing.

The stalker I told you about. Calliope has been influencing him, pushing him to shoot me.

The water around us churned into a whirlpool. No one hurts my daughter! His voice was a roar in my head.

I reached for his hand. Was this what it was to have a father watch over you?

Emrys also told me you’ve been upset. That’s to be expected. Your mother was emotional too. Don’t make big decisions right now.

Confused, I tried to make sense of that but couldn’t. I think Cal has figured out how to mess with my head. She and her demon couldn’t get in before. Now my brain is scattered all the time, and I keep crying, which is totally not like me. I was hoping if I was in the ocean, they wouldn’t be able to touch me.

Dad closed his eyes, still holding my hand. When he opened them, I felt his anger. I hear the whispers. They’re faint, but I hear them in you. It’s because of the wolf.

Declan? He wouldn’t hurt me. He told me he loves me, wants me to live with him. How could he think Declan was helping Cal?

Of course he loves you and wants you close. He’s not a complete idiot. I’d have preferred a fae mate for you, but at least he’s not a wicche. Dad shook his head. I wasn’t referring to that wolf. He pointed at my abdomen. She’s getting in through that wolf. Part wolf, anyway.