Bad to the Crone Read online

  “I guess I forgot that Herbert was part of the church,” Gunner mused, his gaze thoughtful when it snagged with mine. “I think he was even a chalice bearer, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Is that code for something?” I asked, confused. “Does that mean he walked around holding a cup?”

  “Basically.” Gunner extended his fingers in an odd stretching motion that I’d never seen before. He seemed eager for the first time since we’d left the cabin. “I guess we need to take another look at the church and the people who participate in its rituals.”

  “Go ahead and watch Cecily,” Bart offered. “If you catch her doing something weird, tell me. We’ve been trying to have her locked up for years.”

  He seemed awful blasé for a guy who was trying to get his sister involuntarily committed.

  “Aren’t you worried they’ll hurt her? I mean, if this Father Bram isn’t on the up and up, she could be in danger.”

  “She could be,” Bart confirmed. “The thing is ... you can only do so much for a person. You can’t make him or her accept help. My sister is the sort who refuses to accept help. I can’t live my life worrying about her. At a certain point, she has to be the one who takes responsibility for her actions.”

  “I guess.” I glanced at Gunner. “So, where do we go next?”

  “The church. That’s our only thread tying both Herbert and Hal together. There has to be a reason for that.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want to be stuck alone with Father Bram again. He gives me the creeps.”

  “I’m fairly certain everyone in town feels that way,” Bart said. “The guy is even crazier than my sister. Steer clear of him if you can.”

  That sounded like good advice.

  Eleven

  Spying on motorcycles isn’t nearly as easy as playing Mission: Impossible games with a vehicle at your disposal. I voiced that concern before leaving the funeral home’s parking lot. Gunner suggested borrowing one of the trucks from the lumberyard, but I wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

  “Why?” He folded his arms over his chest and eyed me. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  Of course he didn’t. “If we pick up the truck, we’ll have to answer questions.”

  “What questions?”

  “About what we’re doing.”

  “We’ll simply say we’re on a private secret mission,” he suggested, grinning. “I’m sure that will stop people from asking questions right away.”

  I glared at him. “We’ll also have to explain what we’re doing together.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so you don’t want Brandon thinking we’re going to do something dirty in his truck. I get it.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I countered.

  “You’re thinking it.” He tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “That’s some strategic planning there. The last thing we want is Brandon assuming we’re doing something dirty.”

  “I didn’t say dirty!” I snapped. “Why do you keep going back to that word?”

  “Because you’re thinking dirty thoughts,” he shot back. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. You’re hot for me. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.” He rubbed my shoulder, as if offering solace. “I mean … I’m a handsome guy. People are all the time telling me they’re hot for me. I’m used to it. You don’t have to be ashamed.”

  I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and give it a good squeeze. “I am not hot for you.”

  “Sure you are. Otherwise, why would you care what other people think? I mean … unless it’s true, that is. Most people don’t get worked up about something that isn’t true.”

  He was baiting me. We both knew it. But I couldn’t back out gracefully. He’d manufactured a situation that was going to make me look like an idiot regardless. There was no way for me to save face.

  “Let’s just head over to the church, huh?” I gritted out, clenching and unclenching my hands into fists at my sides. “We’re wasting time sitting here. We should head over there and see if we can find out why people are dying … and apparently rising from the dead. That seems a smarter course of action than what we’re doing here.”

  Gunner’s smile stretched all the way across his face. “That sounds like a fabulous idea. By the way, I’m having drinks with Brandon this weekend. I’ll make sure he knows we’re absolutely not doing anything in any of his vehicles – dirty or otherwise – to set your mind at ease.”

  “Why are you still talking?” I complained, sliding onto my bike. “I mean … do you do it simply because you like the sound of your own voice?”

  “I think the more important question is, do you like the sound of my voice? Does it make you want to do dirty things?”

  “I can’t believe we’re still having this discussion,” I lamented.

  “That makes two of us. It’s probably the dirty thoughts. I, for one, know that I can never shake the dirty thoughts once they come. I’m a slave to my hormones.”

  “Coming here was the worst decision of my life,” I complained.

  “Did you have dirty thoughts about people in Detroit? You must have. Wait … am I special? Oh, that’s kind of sweet. She has dirty thoughts about me, folks.” He pointed, as if playing to an audience, even though we were the only people in the parking lot. “Her mind is one big dirty thought.”

  “Stop talking to me right now!”

  “I will, but only because I’m afraid your dirty thoughts will start spewing out of your mouth. Nobody wants to hear that.”

  “I just … .” I let loose a strangled cry and stared at the sky as he chuckled. “You’re having far too much fun at my expense.”

  “True, but if you have to figure out why people are rising from the dead, at least try doing it with a smile on your face. That’s my motto.”

  “Which you just made up.”

  “At least it’s not a dirty motto.”

  “Yup. I walked right into that one.”

  “You really did.”

  WE PARKED TWO STREETS from the church and hid our bikes in the woods. I wasn’t keen on leaving my most important possession behind, but I didn’t see where we had many options. The bikes weren’t quiet. People would undoubtedly notice us. Unfortunately, Gunner’s idea of hiding and mine were vastly different.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I groused, crouching low beneath the boughs of a willow tree to get a better look at the church. “Seriously. It’s gross and dirty in here.”

  Gunner chuckled as he stretched out on his legs and leaned back on his hands. Apparently our current predicament – hiding under an absolutely huge tree and whispering so people wouldn’t notice us – didn’t bother him at all.

  “I take it you’re not an outdoor girl,” he supplied.

  That sounded like an insult, although it was most certainly the truth. “I’ve been outdoors plenty of times,” I argued. “That’s how I get from air-conditioned spot to air-conditioned spot in the summer.”

  “Malls, right?”

  I scorched him with the darkest look in my repertoire. “Oh, grow up. Malls are basically a thing of the past thanks to online shopping. Most malls will be something else entirely in ten years. Besides, do I really look like a mall person?”

  He shrugged. “Kind of. I’m fairly interested in your take on malls, though. Why are they going extinct?”

  “They can’t sustain in the current environment. People would rather shop online than risk having to put on real pants and brave annoying people. That means that stores can’t afford to pay rent in the malls, and without rent the malls themselves will not survive.”

  “Wow. That is a … really weird thing to know.” He smiled in such a way I went warm all over, which made me want to smack myself, because I never reacted this way when it came to men … no matter how attractive. “I guess you’re more than a pretty face.”

  Of course he picked the most annoying thing in the world to say. I mean … wait, did he say I was pretty? I narrowed my eyes.
“We’re here for a job,” I reminded him, tilting my head toward the church. “We’re supposed to be watching the congregation, although I have no idea why. We’re not going to find answers from a distance.”

  “Oh, that was almost poetic.” He flicked the end of my nose – a move I’m certain he realized would irritate me to the very tips of my toes – and then focused on the yard in front of the church. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

  I followed his gaze, frowning when I caught sight of Cecily. She looked to be having a disagreement with another woman, and whatever they were fighting about appeared to be extreme. “Do you know who she’s talking to?”

  Gunner nodded, his expression hard to read. “Lindsay Boyles. I went to high school with her.”

  I studied his profile, uncertain. “You seem sad. Is she the one who got away?”

  “What?” He quickly shook off the melancholy he had momentarily lost himself in and chuckled. “No. We never dated. She wasn’t my type, although she did follow me around for a bit in tenth grade.”

  I could see that. “I’m guessing you were popular in high school, huh? Quarterback, good grades, constantly had people fighting over you, that sort of thing.”

  “I was a defensive player,” he corrected. “A cornerback, if you must know. My grades were okay. If I fell below a B, my father melted down and threatened me, so it was simply easier to keep them up. As for girls throwing themselves at me, it’s been known to happen.” His smile was mischievous. “It still happens.”

  “You’re so full of yourself,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m surprised you don’t fall down more under the weight of your ego.”

  “Oh, like you don’t have a huge ego,” he teased. “Are you telling me you never went to a high school dance?”

  I met his gaze evenly. “We had curfews at the group home. We were allowed to have jobs, but no matter what, we couldn’t stay out past ten. There really was no point in going to a dance when you were forced to leave early.

  “Besides that, dances were never my thing,” I continued. “I’m rhythmically challenged and feel as if my feet are too big for my body when I try to move in time with another human being.”

  His smile faded. “You know what sucks?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “I can’t even tease you most of the time because everything that I throw at you somehow gets tossed back in my face in a really unappealing way.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I was abandoned as a child,” I offered. “If I could change things, I would. Since I can’t … well … I hope you get over your pain.”

  “That right there.” He jabbed a finger at me. “That is very annoying. You’re going to make it so I have to think before I speak. You have no idea how much I hate that.”

  “I have some idea. I hate thinking before I speak, too.”

  “Not as much as me.”

  “Well … you could always keep doing what you’re doing,” I suggested. “My feelings are very rarely hurt. You don’t have to change who you are. I can take it.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned forward so we were staring into each other’s eyes. I didn’t back down because I hated looking weak, but my heart skipped a beat when he invaded my personal space. “I can’t take it. I like to be as polite as possible.”

  “Because that’s what your father taught you?”

  “Because my mother taught me that manners were important before she was taken away,” he replied. “She wasn’t perfect, but that was the one thing she said to me that I took to heart.”

  “Because you wanted something to hold onto.”

  “Because … I like being polite when I can manage it,” he corrected, refusing to back down. “You’ve had a hard life.”

  “Yours hasn’t exactly been gingerbread cookies and hot chocolate.”

  “I have no idea what that means, but I’ll agree because it seems prudent. You’ve had a hard life. I don’t want to make you feel bad about any of it. If I say things sometimes … it’s simply because I don’t think before I speak.”

  “Well, the same can be said for me. It’s never my intention to be rude … at least unless I’m really trying to be rude. That’s rare, though, and almost always warranted.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad we got that straight.” He maintained his gaze for several seconds before turning back to the church. “Cecily doesn’t look to be leaving anytime soon. I think we’re going to be clear for the foreseeable future.”

  “Clear for what?”

  His smile was back. “You’ll see.”

  IF GUNNER THOUGHT HE WAS going to shock me by trying to break into Cecily’s house, he was about to be disappointed.

  “Just give me a second with the lock,” he instructed, digging into his pocket and coming back with his wallet. “I have a credit card and I know exactly what to do.”

  I thought about pointing out that he was working with the sort of lock that would defy credit card intervention, but he was so sure of himself I decided to let him fail on his own timetable. “Knock yourself out.”

  Cecily had an older home, and the front porch was so big it ran the complete length of the house from east to west. I moved to the west as Gunner worked on the lock, my eyes going to the maple tree in the center of the lawn as he muttered under his breath.

  “Son of a … !” Slowly, I turned to find him on his hands and knees, his fingers under the door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, amused.

  “I seem to have dropped my credit card,” he admitted. Even on his hands and knees, his hair hanging to one side and his face red with embarrassment, he was ridiculously attractive. It was annoying.

  “Under the door?”

  “Yeah, well … it slipped.”

  “Uh-huh.” I thought about torturing him a bit longer – he was a know-it-all, after all – but I couldn’t take it. He was obviously feeling self-conscious. I felt the discomfort rolling off him in waves. “It just so happens I can get us into that house,” I finally said.

  His expression turned from agitated to suspicious. “You can get us into this house?”

  “I can.”

  “How? Wait … are you going to use magic?” He straightened and glanced back at the door. “I don’t think fire is the appropriate response for this predicament.”

  My lips curved down. “Fire isn’t my go-to magic of choice.”

  “I’ve seen you respond magically twice and both times it was with fire. Even last night, when your attention was split, one of the ways you responded was with fire … and it wasn’t a pretty outcome.”

  Now he was just being petty. “Fine. I won’t help you get your credit card back. Is that what you want?”

  “No. That wouldn’t be my first choice. I’m not a big fan of setting Cecily’s house on fire either.”

  “I have no intention of setting the house on fire.” My agitation came out to play as I showed my teeth and shoved him aside. “I can get into the house another way. While I’m doing that, I need you to take a look at that tree. I think there’s something off about it.”

  He glanced between the tree and me, confused. “You think there’s something off about the tree?”

  “I do.”

  “Well … .” He took a step in that direction and then stopped himself before he could go too far. “How are you going to get into the house?”

  Instead of answering, I dug in my pocket and retrieved an aged lock pick set. Gunner’s eyes went wide when he realized what I was holding. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “You learn interesting tricks when you’re shuttled from one home to another,” I offered. “One of my foster fathers was a high-end art thief. He taught me the tricks of his trade.”

  “Really?”

  I thought about dragging things out, but it seemed mean. “No. I made that one up. One of my foster brothers did earn extra money on the side breaking into the school to change people’s grades. He taught me how to get past most lock
s … and then he got caught on camera and arrested. He left his lock pick set behind and I continued practicing with it for a few years.”

  “So, you can really break into the house without anyone being the wiser?”

  “I really can.” I dropped to my knee in front of the door. “While I’m doing this, I need you to look at the tree. I wasn’t joking about it being weird.”

  “I don’t understand.” He forced his eyes back in that direction. “It’s just a tree. It looks like a normal tree.”

  “Not if you go to the far corner and look at it from that direction.”

  “Okay. I’ll play.” He strode across the porch, not stopping until he hit the corner I’d indicated. Once there, he stared hard at the tree. I didn’t miss the moment he realized exactly what I was talking about because I heard him suck in a breath at the same moment the lock tumbled. “There are runes carved into this tree.”

  “There are,” I agreed. “I can’t quite make all of them out. I don’t think they’re friendly runes, though.”

  “Definitely not.” He stroked his chin. “Why would Cecily have runes carved into her tree? I mean … she makes a big deal out of being religious.”

  “I have no idea, but it’s troubling.”

  “Definitely. You need to get that door open so we can see if there are more troubling things inside.”

  As if on cue, I pushed open the door. “Your wish is my command.”

  “That would’ve been sexier if you weren’t making me look like a fool when you said it.”

  “You can’t have everything.”

  Twelve

  We spent as long as we dared inside Cecily’s house (which wasn’t nearly as long as I would’ve liked). Gunner snapped photos of the tree with his phone while I searched the woman’s office for signs that she was ... well, I have no idea. I wasn’t even sure what we were looking for. Something out of the ordinary was my guess, but I had no idea what was considered out of the ordinary in this town.