Chapter 17
He’d taken me out of the city. Though I'd been dying to ask where we were headed, I hadn't dared break my silence. It wasn't until we pulled up along a country lane and turned down a gravelly driveway that I finally shifted my head from staring out the passenger window and glanced through the windscreen instead.
“We’re here,” he said in a distracted, quiet voice.
“And where is here?”
“Talking to me again, are you?”
“Listen to me,” I snapped around, undid my belt buckle, and fixed him with possibly the most powerful gaze I had ever mustered. “I have just been through a hell of a day. You can continue to goad me, Agent Fairweather, but it will reflect far more on you than it does on me. As you've already proven, you're the powerful one here, so start acting like it. Show a little wisdom and decency.”
With that I turned around, opened the door, and jumped down. Though I still felt a little lightheaded, I forced myself to stand.
Once again it had a measurable effect on me. Not caving into my weakness made me all the more powerful.
But what was the point? A mutinous little voice noted in my mind. The kind of power I could muster through changing little facts about my life was nothing compared to what Jacob had at his fingertips. The way he had healed my wound proved that he had incredible magic available to him.
I could stand straighter, I could try to look mean, I could dress in powerful clothes, and I could carry around my teddy bear as a sign of protection, but what would that do ultimately?
I'd always been a witch, but I'd never felt as inferior as I did right now. Yet there was still a part of me that didn't want to give into that feeling. Because if I gave in, I'd be giving up, wouldn't I?
I strode forward.
We’d parked next to a barn, and just around the corner, I saw a lovely country house open out before us. There was a garden around it, a vegetable patch, herbs growing by the doors, and a sweet little patio. A curl of smoke was drifting out of the chimney, and the lights were on, giving the house a flickering, inviting warmth.
I didn't wait for Jacob to catch up; I walked ahead for the front door.
As I walked up to it, I tried to get a sense of the house, for the property, for where I was.
There was magic here, I was sure of it.
But it was different, far different to that which I usually felt. Living at home, the kind of sense I got from my decrepit witchy manor was miles away from the house I now stood in front of.
It was refined, careful, different. It was the Shangri-La to my tent.
Though a little hesitant, I walked right up the garden path and reached the door, knocking on it primly.
“There's nobody home,” Jacob said from my side as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket.
I didn't bother to turn to him.
“You snapped at me to be more mature, are you seriously going to stand there and not look at me? We’re going to have to spend the night here, just the two of us, and while I honestly don't care if you hole yourself up in your room and don't talk to me, you might find yourself getting lonely. Plus, who is going to answer all your questions?” He unlocked the door and opened it, strolling through first.
I didn't answer him. I did, however, walk in and suddenly take a sharp breath of air.
It was beautiful. It was charming. Not just because the decor was warm and inviting, but because there was an overpowering sense of it. It were as if someone had distilled everything that it meant to be comforting and welcoming and had showered the house in it.
It felt safe. No, it felt like the definition of safety. Every other measure of protection was but a mere shadow of this place.
“Surprised, ha?”
I glanced over at Jacob. To his credit, he was smiling, but knowing him, it was probably a prelude to another insult.
“There's a bath upstairs, and there’s everything you could possibly want in the fridge. Make yourself comfortable,” he nodded at me and then pulled his phone from his pocket.
Though I really wanted to continue to ignore him, I couldn't deny the effect the house was having on me. All of the anger seemed to seep away with the knowledge that whilst I was within these walls there would be nothing that could hurt me. And if there was nothing that could hurt me, that included Jacob's attitude.
I brightened up, even though I resisted it. My cheeks warmed, stress all but evaporated from my body, and I felt a little like I was floating.
Before Jacob could dial the number, he glanced back at me, and he smiled. It was a far more natural smile than I had ever seen him offer. “This place always affects you influence witches more than it does others.” With a smile still on his lips, he opened his phone and started keying in a number.
“Who are you calling?”
He flicked his gaze my way. “Talking to me again?”
I brought a hand up and leaned my chin on it. “I think you're right, Jacob Fairweather, this place is having an effect on me. And unfortunately for you, it means you can no longer tease me. I don't really care what you say or think. Answer my question if you want to, don't if you prefer.” I offered him a smile, stretched my shoulders, straightened my hair, and walked over to the table nearest to me. On top was a lovely ceramic bowl, and inside was a collection of colorful boiled sweeties. I plucked one up, popped it in my mouth, and let the taste wash through me.
“I'm calling my superiors, to let them know that you're safe. I will also get an update on your grandmother. She should be fine, as I said, the other teams have gone there already.”
I turned back to him and nodded simply. “I suppose I should go take a shower then and ask that fridge to make me whatever I want.”
I turned from him, not before I registered his expression though.
It was different, because I was different. Damn did I feel different. Now that I felt safe, I was acting like I was safe. No matter how much Jacob goaded me within these walls, I wouldn’t react, would I? Because I didn't need to. There was nothing I had to protect here.
Flicking my hair over my ear, smiling at a picture I saw on the wall, I turned and headed for the stairs. Instinctively I knew that there was a bathroom at the top, one with a fantastic view.
Jacob took an uncomfortable swallow, turned from me, and began to talk on his phone.
As I headed up the stairs, I passed a mirror. It gave me a view back into the hallway, and I saw Jacob standing there, staring right at me.
With his eyebrows crumpled, the phone held up to is ear, he rubbed at his chin with an errant move. He didn't look away until I was out of view.
By the time I made it into the bathroom, I was feeling better than I had in months. I had been an influence witch all my life; I'd never known any other type of magic. This house was doing something to me. It was proving a fact I should never have called into question, something that should have been truer to me than any fact of life.
The power of influence. My whole body, my whole mindset, my thoughts and emotions were completely at odds with what they had been before I had entered the house. The only thing that had changed was the sense it gave me.
It was influencing me in wonderful, powerful ways.
As I dallied around in the bathroom, opening the cupboard doors inquisitively, I found they were filled with exactly what I needed. My favorite type of shampoo, a beautifully smelling lavender soap, and some warm, comfortable clothes. There was even a plate of chocolate cake sitting just by the sink.
I smiled, wild and warmer than I had ever done. Plucking up the cake, I took a bite; it was exquisite.
No matter what happened for the rest of the day or the night, right now I felt like I was on cloud nine.
I quickly undressed, popped in the shower, and nestled under the warm water.
Sighing deeply I closed my eyes and rested my back against the wall.
With the water rushing over my body I reflected on how different my day had turned out compared to what the blustery
morning had promised. I wasn't dead, I hadn't been kidnapped and dragged to hell, and if Jacob was correct, everything was going to turn out right. My grandmother would be okay, my house would be cleared of the devil and his men, and I'd be back at home tomorrow. A new car, a new job, a new life.
I opened my eyes and stared down at my hands. Spreading the fingers wide, I turned them around, noting every detail.
“Esme?” Jacob called from outside the door.
Despite how good I felt, his voice brought me down a notch. Because there was a note to it, a hesitant one. One that was at odds with the competent but arrogant detective.
“What is it?”
“You probably need to come out, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Despite how safe I felt in this house, a flicker of worry passed through my gut. Placing a hand on my stomach, I opened the shower door a crack. “Can't it wait?”
“Your grandmother....”
That flicker of worry became full-blown fear. I slammed off the taps, flung open the door, grabbed a towel and, dripping water everywhere, headed over to the bathroom door. I opened it a crack.
Jacob was standing there, but somehow he had the decency to half turn away, staring off down the stairs instead of at the view of me huddled into a bath towel.
“They haven’t been able to find her,” he kept his back to me.
“What do you mean? I thought you said—”
He put a hand up quickly, latching it onto his brow, pushing it into the flesh, and letting it fall down his face. “They're looking for her. I'm sure she is fine, it's just....”
I opened the door wider. Suddenly I didn't care that I was dripping and in a bath towel. I stepped out onto the landing. “My grandmother....” I was about to tell him that she’d better be okay, that they’d better do everything they could to find her, but I stopped myself.
I had to start taking charge, right? And the first place to do that was in my own mind. Reigning in my emotions, my negative thoughts, and my tendency to catastrophize, I took a careful breath. “Is a powerful witch. I'm sure she is fine.”
Jacob finally turned around and looked at me, and to its credit, he didn't let his eyes glance down to my dripping body once. “I guess she is.”
“Is there anything else? Any other news?”
He shook his head.
“I guess I’d better finish my shower then.”
He turned away from me, nodded, and headed back down the stairs.
I hesitated for a moment, watching him go.
I was suddenly struck with the thought of what my grandmother would do in this situation. Would she just stand there, hope for the best, hop back in the shower, and finish off her cake, or would she do something?
She was constantly telling me that if I wanted to be powerful, I had to act powerful. If I wanted the perfect life, I had to claim it.
So if I wanted her back, I had to jolly well go and get her.
I paused just before the bathroom door and turned determinedly. “Jacob', I called down to him.
He didn't immediately stop, so I ran after him. I didn't care that I was dripping everywhere and that hello, I was still in nothing but a bath towel.
I caught up to him just at the base of the stairs.
“I want to go after her,” I said.
His nose twitched up. “What are you talking about? I've already told you that you are safer here. And like I said; we've got a team after her. They'll be able to find her, trust me.”
“No,” I took another step down until I was standing close by him. “I want to go after her myself. I need to help; I'm her granddaughter.”
“You can't help, trust me. Now just go and finish your shower,” Jacob turned, fobbing a hand my way in an obviously dismissive move.
It seemed the rude bully was never too far under the surface when it came to Mr. Fairweather. What an odd mix he was; nice as pie one moment, rude as hell the next. Well right now I didn't care.
I stepped off the final step and stood right up next to him. Even though he was taller than me and I had to lean my head back to look up in his eyes, I tried to do so in a strong, powerful way. “I am going after her. I don't care about my safety. I need to do something.”
Again he looked dismissive, then right at the edge... something else. At first I thought it was concern, but his lips didn't curl up right, and neither did the glimmer in his eye fit the emotion. “Esme Sinclair, I'm not going to let you go back there. Like I already said, you and your little misadventure are a liability to this city. I'm keeping you here not just for your own safety, but for everyone else’s too.”
For a second his argument had the desired effect on me; I deflated, my shoulders drawing in as a little of my fire went out.
But it didn't go out entirely. Taking a labored breath I clutched harder onto my towel. “You can't just expect me to stay here and do nothing. She's my grandmother! And I know I may not be the world's best witch—”
“You've got that right,” he interrupted coolly.
“But I'm still a witch. And there's still something I can do.” I clicked my fingers as a plan formulated in my mind. “I can call Aunt Tessa to start off with, and she can get in contact with my Uncle Patrick – he used to run a magical talisman shop. I'm sure he'd be able to rustle up some goods to help us with. And then there's Vinnie – I reckon he could use his contacts to try and get us some kind of vehicle that could withstand—”
Jacob raised a hand. It was a snapped move. That look in his eye was back too. If I didn't know any better, it was the inner bully getting ready to push me over and steal my lunch. “Esmerelda, it's not going to work. Just leave your family out of this,” he added, voice tense. Hell, his whole body was tense. As I looked up at him, my lips parting gently, I realized just how locked and hard his jaw and neck muscles were.
He really must be under a lot of pressure, I tried to rationalize to myself. Why else would he be this stressed and on edge?
“Just go upstairs and finish your shower,” he took an enormous breath, turned from me, and headed towards the kitchen, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did.
I watched him go. At first his heavy walk and the clear strain playing across his large shoulders and back plucked at my heart strings. I was in part responsible for his current state, wasn't I? As everyone kept on reminding me, I was the one who had stupidly undermined her life through a couple of solid years of complaining and lazing about.
Then doubt crept in.
I had no idea why and I had no idea where it came from, but all of a sudden a flicker of suspicion ignited within.
I instantly dismissed it and surrendered to the idea of finishing my chocolate cake and shower.
I made it all the way back to the bathroom before I changed my mind.
“What are you doing, Esme Sinclair?” I asked myself out loud as I let my towel drop to my feet. Before I leaned forward and turned the taps back on, I turned and looked out the window. The gardens outside really were beautiful, and I could swear that the storm waging war with the city looked less severe from in here. In fact, everything did. Form inside this house, it seemed everything going on outside was a touch irrelevant. Subdued, pointless.
A frown made its way onto my lips from some deep, subconscious place, and it stuck there.
Everything was right here, wasn't it? Jacob hadn't lied to me, had he?
He'd already demonstrated he was magical, and thus far he hadn't done anything but try to protect me – unless you counted all the insults and quips, that was. I could not forget how he'd pulled that skeleton hand off my throat, and nor could I forget that he had healed my injuries.
Feeling thoroughly confused, I rubbed at my arms and began to turn from the view.
Then I saw something. Something I would not have expected to see on such a windblown and rainy day.
A butterfly.
It flapped right up to the window and appeared to hover about for a moment, almost as if it were looking fo
r a way to get in.
My brow crumpled in confusion.
I reached out a hand to open the window, but by the time I had unfixed the latch, she was gone.
“What on earth?” I leaned out the window to watch her go.
Butterflies usually found a safe place to sit out a storm like this, I mused. Then I practically rolled my eyes and knocked myself on the head for being thoroughly stupid. Hello, it was almost winter here; butterflies weren't around full stop.
I kept the window open a little longer as I frowned up into the storm above.
Had it been a sign?
I scratched at my chin and grabbed at my towel before I really knew what I was doing. I dried myself off as quick as I could, took another bite of my cake, and then reached for my clothes.
I knew enough about my grandmother to know that she would never leave me like I had left her.
As I tugged on my jeans I solidified my frown into a tight-lipped but determined smile.
I had two options here: stay and finish my shower or leave and find my grandmother.
I could no longer ignore her warnings. She'd spent the entire day telling me that if I wanted it to end well, I had to claim my power. Maybe she'd never predicted that Jacob Fairweather would waltz into my life and turn out to be a super powerful wizard or whatever he was, but surely my grandmother's prediction still stood; things were only going to work out for me in the long run if I found a way to finally claim my power.
As I tugged on the remnants of my Santa Claus sweater, I looked out the window again. In fact, I leaned right out of it and turned my head to the left and right looking for a way down.
Because yes, that's right, I was going to break out of here. I was going to head back to town, and I was going to find my grandmother. Even though Jacob had been unbelievably kind in saving me and all, I wasn't ready to just abandon a member of my own family. His agency, or whoever he worked for, might be trying to find my granny, but I knew my house and I knew her. I would be better suited to do the job myself.
As I finally latched eyes on a storm pipe and leaned out to grab a hand on it, a sudden pang of guilt stabbed through me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked myself through a stilted breath. “Jacob is right; you might be more of a liability than a help.”
As if in response to my own question, I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't keep on thinking like that. I couldn't keep second-guessing myself. If I wanted to be a powerful witch, it was time to bury the naysayers and claim what I could.
So with that rather reckless thought rocketing around my mind, I climbed down from a third-floor window for the second time that day.