Hex Type Thing Read online

  “I know that. I’m not worried you’re going to cheat on me. That’s not how you’re built. If you ever change your mind about how you feel, you’ll be upfront and tell me.”

  “I will,” he nodded. “The odds of me changing my mind regarding how I feel about you are slim to none. You’re ... magical. I can’t imagine ever feeling any differently about you. I think it’s impossible.”

  He was romantic when he wanted to be, which I liked. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You don’t have to lay it on so thick, though. I’m already yours. You make me cause water to dance with simple looks. I think we’re good. In fact ... .” I trailed off when I noticed two people sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed them, but I was stunned when I realized who it was. “It’s June ... and that Bronwen person.”

  “What?” Galen was clearly caught off guard by the information and when he turned to look in the direction I indicated he didn’t appear nearly as surprised by the intimate dinner date. “Maybe they had things to discuss. The restaurant at June’s hotel isn’t open. She’s as familiar with this place as I am. It’s where the locals go, not the tourists.”

  That was all well and good, but it had nothing to do with the motivation behind the odd pairing. “Do you think they know each other? I mean ... outside of this festival. When I brought up June to Bronwen she seemed excited at the prospect of spending time with her. I’d assumed they’d never met. Perhaps I was wrong.”

  Galen shrugged. “I guess it’s possible. Does it matter? Maybe they just enjoy hanging out.”

  I cast him a sidelong look. Was he hiding something? There was an evasive tinge to his words, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I thought that. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  He took a long drink from his iced tea before answering. “And what is it you think I could possibly know? I met that woman at the same time you did this afternoon. You spent a lot more time with her than I did.”

  That was true. Still ... . “What about June? Do you know something about her?”

  “I know a great many somethings about June. She’s a woman who likes tall tales, and I’ve heard more than a few stories.”

  That wasn’t really an answer. “Maybe we should go over there, say hi.”

  “I think they’re fine.”

  “Maybe we should join them,” I pressed. “We might be able to learn something.”

  “Absolutely not.” He was firm when he shook his head, catching me off guard. “We’re not going over there to bug them. They’re obviously having a conversation that has nothing to do with us. I refuse to interrupt that.”

  Agitation bubbled up. “I don’t want to interrupt them. For all you know they might be happy to see us.”

  “I doubt it, and I don’t want to spend the entire night talking about the festival and what’s going on. That’s all they’ll want to talk about. I need time to think.”

  Guilt rolled through me. Of course they would be interested in digging up information about the festival. “I’m sorry.” I meant it. “I didn’t mean to suggest putting yourself on the spot.”

  He absently waved his hand. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It would be best if you minded your own business when it comes to June, though. If she wants to tell you something, she’ll volunteer it on her own. Don’t go snooping behind her back. That’s not what a friend would do.”

  I felt like a chastised child. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

  Instead of coddling me, he merely nodded. “That would be best.”

  I WAS STILL FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF when we returned to the lighthouse. Dinner had been a quiet affair, although the food was good and the ambiance nice. If Galen noticed that I’d grown quiet after he admonished me not to be a busybody he didn’t say anything.

  He took a moment to study the night sky when we reached the lighthouse and I left him there to stare at ... well, nothing ... as I made my way to the door. I was tired and more than a little crabby. What I really wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about this day.

  He caught me before I reached the halfway point and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the ridge of my ear, causing shudders to run up my spine. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I bit back a sigh, suddenly feeling foolish. What did I have to complain about? He was right. I was obsessed with the fact that June might be a witch. I had no idea why, even though he told me he believed any magic she might have was minimal. Moonstone Bay was an island filled with paranormal creatures. The fact that June had some witch in her bloodline shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  “I’m not angry.” I turned in his arms and lifted my chin, finding an amused smile waiting for me. “Okay, I’m not all that angry,” I conceded. “I just ... I think I got a little excited at the prospect of her being able to help me with this witch thing. May is a great help, but she’s not alive. Having a real person I trust to help would be great.”

  “You trust me, right? I’ll help you.”

  “But you can only do so much. You’re an expert on shifting ... and Lilac is an expert on being a demon ... and Booker is an expert on being a cupid. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve stepped into an alternate universe and I’ll never catch up. I don’t think that’s something you can help me with. I’m not sure, even if she had magic at her fingertips, that June could. I hate feeling left behind.”

  His fingers were gentle when they brushed the hair from my forehead. “I won’t ever leave you behind. As for learning about being a witch, do you have any idea how fast you’re churning through stuff? You practically took out an entire cadre of cupids on your own. You learned how to read minds in one day.”

  “Yeah, but I screwed it up.”

  “You made a mistake, and it’s one you won’t make again. You’re still doing remarkably well.”

  His words bolstered me. “I guess I’m just being a baby. I don’t mean to be so whiny. I just ... sometimes it’s overwhelming.”

  “And that’s normal. The thing is, the times you feel overwhelmed, that’s when you have to come to me. I want to help you even if it’s only to serve as a sounding board while you vent. That’s why I’m here.”

  It was the exact right thing to say. “Thanks.” I threw my arms around his neck and pressed myself to him, relishing the way his hands moved over my back. I briefly shut my eyes, inhaled his scent and then stared out at the ocean. “Do you want to make the water dance?” I growled.

  He tightened his grip on me and chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask. There’s little more I want than to make the water dance.”

  “Then let’s do it. The night is young and you need a mental break. I think I know exactly how to give it to you.”

  “Bring it on.”

  12

  Twelve

  We both slept hard. The lack of sleep the previous evening had us passing out wrapped around one another. When I woke the next morning, we were still in the same position, and this time Galen wasn’t distracted by his phone.

  “Morning,” I murmured.

  He smiled and stretched. “Good morning?”

  There was something off about his smile. “What? Do I have food on my face or something?” I immediately reached up to wipe, but he caught my wrist.

  “There’s no food on your face. Your hair is a different story.”

  “How did I get food in my hair?” I sat up to look at myself in the mirror across the room, cringing when I saw the odd angles of my hair. “Ugh. I shouldn’t have slept on it wet.”

  “I like it,” Galen countered. “I think it has ... charm.” He laughed at my murderous expression. “What? You made the water dance and we had an absolutely lovely time. Nobody cares about your hair.”

  “I care about my hair.” I gave it another look and then flopped back. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll shower before leaving the house.”


  “My thoughts exactly.” He automatically reached for his phone. “I need to make sure that nobody killed anyone at the festival last night. I also need to request another meeting with the DDA since they shot down my last one.”

  I was confused. “I thought they turned you down last night but agreed to meet you today.”

  “No, they agreed to hear another request for a meeting today. That doesn’t mean I’m in.”

  This DDA sounded like a real nightmare. “How did these people get so much control? I don’t understand why they haven’t been ousted yet.”

  “Because everybody is afraid of them.”

  “I’ve noticed, but why?”

  “I don’t have an answer for you. The DDA was set up more than one-hundred years ago, back before Moonstone Bay was a tourist destination. Farming was the way the islanders made a living back then, but they knew it wouldn’t last because transporting goods to the mainland was often cumbersome, contingent on storms, and expensive. We needed something else to base the economy on and tourism became that thing.”

  My understanding was, in the days when manufacturing and agriculture could support an island the size of Moonstone Bay there wouldn’t have been a need to entice outsiders. That’s probably how it became a hotbed of paranormal activity. It was isolated and those magically inclined felt safe here.

  “So ... you’re saying the DDA became a thing when you decided to switch over to tourism.”

  He nodded. “The switch didn’t happen immediately. It took a lot of planning. Thankfully most of the town elders at the time had made good money in previous businesses, because they were expected to fund the bulk of the transition.”

  “And they own the land to this day?”

  He nodded, sliding his eyes to me. “Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing about the festival,” I reassured him. “I was just thinking about what you told me after I first arrived. Property here is at a premium because there’s nowhere to expand and it can be a cutthroat game. The story May told me about Rebecca Blythe was heartbreaking. Alastair only dated her because he wanted her father’s property.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real jerk,” Galen agreed. “When I find him — and mark my words, I will track down that little ferret — he’ll wish he never met me.”

  Something niggled at the back of my brain. “Yeah, but it doesn’t make sense. You told me Alastair is one of the richest guys on the island.”

  “He’s well to do. I wouldn’t call him one of the richest.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense.” I couldn’t let it go. “If he was so rich, why would he be so desperate to make money? And if property on Moonstone Bay was so important to him, which he proved when he went after Becky, why would he leave the island after swindling a bunch of people, knowing he could never return? He still has a huge mansion, right?”

  Galen nodded, his expression hard to read. “That’s true. I need to run a financial probe on him. I guess it’s possible he’s buried in debt to the point he’s losing the house, and nobody knows about it.”

  “In a community this small?” That didn’t make much sense. “That doesn’t feel right.”

  “It doesn’t,” he agreed. “But I have to chase the possibility. For all we know, Alastair took a reverse mortgage on the house because he knew he was going to pull this and ran.”

  “But ... why? If he has money he shouldn’t be in such dire straits. If he doesn’t, what happened to the money he had?”

  “That right there is a very good question.” Galen tapped his finger against the end of my nose. “You’re a little a genius sometimes. I’m not sure what’s going on with Alastair, but I’m definitely going to find out. I have to focus on Salma first.”

  “Unless she’s part of this.”

  He stilled, surprised. “What do you mean? Why would she be part of this?”

  “It’s awfully coincidental that she died on the beach where the party she’d been touting for a month — but refused to go to because she didn’t like sand — was being held. I don’t think that’s an accident.”

  “Are you thinking that Alastair killed her because she figured out what he was doing?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s definitely a possibility. I mean ... everything I’ve learned about Salma seems to indicate she’s the sort of person who wouldn’t blink at blackmailing someone. That’s simply who she was.”

  “She liked the popularity that came with the job. I don’t think it was the money fueling her as much as the fame.”

  “I think you’re probably right, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t get greedy. Perhaps she demanded something else of Alastair, like a prime spot in the festival lineup or something. He never had any plans to put together a proper lineup, so he couldn’t give her what she wanted and she threatened to out him.”

  “Or perhaps she figured out the entire thing was a sham from the start,” Galen countered. “Salma was annoying, but she wasn’t an idiot. She was smarter than most people gave her credit for, which is why she rose faster than those other three idiots in the influencer circles.”

  “So ... what are you thinking?” I asked. “Do you think she figured out the truth and tried to extort Alastair, causing him to snap?”

  “I think there are multiple possibilities.” He started ticking them off on his fingers. “One, she found out the truth and threatened to expose him to the cops. He wasn’t ready to run yet — he needed time to plot his escape on the boat — so he killed her to shut her up. Two, she found out and extorted money from him, which put him under so much pressure he snapped. Her death was violent and seems to suggest a frenzy. It doesn’t strike me as something that was well thought out.”

  “That’s true.” I rolled my neck. “Any other possibilities?”

  “Just one more. The third possibility is that he didn’t kill her. Maybe he’s not on the run. Maybe he hired someone to handle this festival, someone who got in over his or her head and couldn’t deliver what was promised, and that individual, when confronted, lost it and killed Alastair.”

  “If so, where is his body?”

  “It could be hidden anywhere. There are a lot of wooded areas on the island. If animals find the body there won’t be much left within a few days. There’s also the ocean. If our killer has access to a boat maybe he was dumped at sea. The sharks and fish would take care of it out there.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “How does that explain what happened to Salma?”

  “Maybe she saw the killer putting Alastair’s body on a boat. Maybe she saw the murder. Maybe she ran and the killer caught up with her on the beach.”

  “But why not dump her body in the same place?”

  “Perhaps that was the original plan. Maybe the killer left to get something to wrap the body in and upon returning found us. The only one who knew we were coming back was Alastair. Once we arrived there was nothing that could be done about the body.”

  I hated to admit it, but it was possible. “That’s a lot to think about.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “We have a lot of possibilities and absolutely zero answers.”

  “And Alastair.”

  “If he’s still alive I will find him. Today I need to focus on Calliope. It wouldn’t be as easy for her to sneak on or off the island without anyone seeing. I need to find her first because she’s either a victim in all of this or another predator.”

  “So ... showers and then breakfast before planning our day? We are partners, after all.”

  He smirked. “How about one shower, to conserve water, and then I’ll cook breakfast?”

  “I could live with that.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.”

  GALEN OPTED FOR FRENCH TOAST. It was one of his favorite breakfasts and I wasn’t surprised when the scent assailed my nose as I hit the main floor. I smiled to myself as I headed toward the kitchen, the sound of someone knocking on the front door catching my attention before I could make much progress.

  My gra
ndfather met me with expectant eyes when I opened the door. He was up early — especially since it took him a good twenty minutes to get into town — and he didn’t look happy.

  “Did you look through the peephole before you answered the door?” His tone was accusatory.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “You did not.” He rolled his eyes. “I was watching your shadow under the door. You just walked right up and let me inside. It was reckless.”

  “If you knew I didn’t look why did you ask?”

  “I wanted to know what you would say. It turns out, you didn’t say anything smart.”

  “Oh, geez.” I turned on my heel and headed for the kitchen. “It’s awfully early for a lecture,” I called out. “How about we table that and I’ll pour you a mug of coffee?”

  “I’ve had worse offers,” he said. I didn’t miss the distinct sound of him double-checking the front door to make sure it was locked. Apparently it was going to be one of those days.

  “Hey, Wesley,” Galen called out in greeting from behind the stove. “I’m making French toast. Do you want some?”

  Wesley didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he tattled on me. “She didn’t look through the peephole before answering the door. Are you going to do something about it?”

  “I’ll spank her later,” Galen shot back. “I’ll spank her until her little bottom is black and blue and then I’ll make her dress like a maid and clean the lighthouse.”

  Wesley worked his jaw. “You’re an extra-special pervert, aren’t you?”

  Galen chuckled and finally shifted his eyes to my grandfather. “She’ll do what she’s going to do. I can’t order her around. She knows to check the peephole. If she doesn’t follow through it’s on her.”

  I was under attack from all sides. “I forgot,” I complained. “I was up early this morning and I’m still waking up.”

  “We slept for ten hours,” Galen reminded me. “We were in bed by nine.”

  “Because you’re a pervert,” Wesley challenged, his eyes dark. “I always knew you had an overactive libido.”