Bad to the Crone Read online

  Gunner smiled as the kitten swiped at me and crawled up my arm and perched on my shoulder. It hid behind my hair and I felt it purring against my neck. “I think he’s picked his family.”

  It took me a moment to register what he was saying. “I can’t take him with me.”

  “Why not? I happen to know Rooster loves cats. He won’t give you grief over a kitten.”

  “That’s all well and good to say, but ... he’s probably missing his family.”

  Gunner lifted his nose, almost as if he was scenting something, and then shook his head. “He’s decided that you’re his human. That’s why he came out.”

  That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “Oh, really? Did he tell you that?”

  “No. He’s telling you that.” He pointed to my shoulder.

  Even when I turned I couldn’t see everything. I knew enough to realize the kitten had settled down and was preparing to sleep, as if this was his favorite spot in the world and always had been. That didn’t mean I was in the market for a pet.

  “I don’t have anything to take care of a kitten,” I said, trying one last time. “I don’t think they eat granola.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He amiably patted my shoulder before moving to look at the items I’d been hauling around on the dolly provided by Brandon. “Is most of this for the roof?”

  I nodded. “It has a few issues. I think I can fix it.”

  He slid me a sidelong look. “Who taught you how to fix a roof?”

  “My third foster father. He was the one after the guy who blew all the money the state gave him for my care at the casino. The second guy was a dink. The third guy was cool.”

  “But you didn’t stay with him?”

  The question made me uncomfortable. “He was shot on his way home from work. His wife couldn’t hold it together and ... it doesn’t matter. I was there only a few weeks. No one ever wanted to keep me. They all sent me back with a stamp on my forehead that said ‘return to sender.’ I don’t blame them. I think they sensed I was different.”

  “Well, I blame them.” He was calm as he shook his head. “Still, it’s a good talent to have. I can help if you need me.”

  The offer made me uncomfortable. “You don’t have to. Delivering the supplies is enough.”

  “Still ... I want to help if I can. After all, I came down pretty hard when you showed up today. Upon further reflection, that wasn’t fair. I know how Raisin can be. She manipulated you because she figured you hadn’t been here long enough to know the rules. That’s not your fault.”

  It wasn’t, but I still felt guilty. “Let’s talk about something else,” I suggested, sliding a bundle of shingles off the rack and onto the dolly. “Tell me about Hal Crosby.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” Gunner replied, snagging a box of nails from a nearby shelf and adding them to my collection without asking. Since I needed them, I refrained from sniping at him. “He was a quiet guy. I didn’t know him very well.”

  “I would have thought the son of the chief would know everybody in town,” I teased.

  “I knew him,” he clarified. “I just didn’t know him well. He spent all of his time at All Souls Church.”

  I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I pressed harder. “Is there something wrong with the church?”

  “Not as far as I can tell. I’ve never been inside. We have a lot of churches for a small town.”

  “Kind of like cemeteries?”

  “Exactly.” He bobbed his head and grinned, showing off the hint of a dimple that I hadn’t previously noticed. “That particular congregation keeps to itself. They don’t cause problems. They don’t create issues when it comes time for us to go to war — which the other churches have been known to do — so I haven’t paid them much attention.”

  “Don’t you think we should go to that church and question them about Hal?” I asked. “I mean ... he did end up dead in the woods without a face.”

  “He did,” Gunner agreed. “We’re not cops, though. If we identify a specific threat and it’s something we can go after, that’s what we do. We’re not there yet. Until then, it’s my father’s case.”

  “And you’re okay with just letting him take over like that?”

  “I’m as okay with that as you are with the kitten on your shoulder,” he replied. “There’s nothing else I can do. Until we know more, we’re stuck.”

  “So ... let’s find out more.”

  “You seem eager to poke your nose into business that might not involve us,” he pointed out.

  “The dude was missing a face. You know as well as I do that we’re going to get involved eventually.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “You do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, now you’re just trying to be difficult.”

  His smile was back, wider this time. “You believe that because you like being difficult. Not everyone gets off on climbing beneath the skin of others and scratching and screaming.”

  “How do you know that’s what I do?”

  “Call it a feeling. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “You’re full of it.”

  “And I’m done talking to you. Come on. I have everything I need. If you’re going to deliver it to the cabin for me, I want to get going. There’s something I need to do before I leave town.”

  “Pick up supplies for your new cat?”

  “Two things I need to do.”

  Six

  Raisin wasn’t happy. She tried everything in her repertoire to convince Gunner that it was best if she traveled with me. He was having none of it.

  “We promised your father that you wouldn’t get on a motorcycle,” he reminded her, calm as he folded his arms over his chest. “He pitched a fit about you hanging with us, we compromised with him, and you purposely helped us break that promise. What do you think he’s going to do if he finds out?”

  Raisin didn’t scowl as much as grimace, and for a brief moment I saw a flash of something in her head that caused my heart to skip a beat. I couldn’t be sure what I saw — I didn’t know her well, after all — but I heard screaming. The noise was gone as quickly as it appeared and I took a moment to clear my throat before focusing on Gunner. He looked normal, at least for him.

  “It should take me about an hour to finish up here and then I’ll drop the load by your cabin,” he offered, seemingly distracted by movement close to the lumberyard’s busy main office. “I’ll take Raisin home first, but it shouldn’t take long.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Raisin suggested. “You’ll need extra hands to help if you expect to get that cabin looking like something that’s not straight out of a Stephen King book. I have hands.” She wiggled her fingers in my face for emphasis.

  “You do,” I agreed, shifting when I felt the kitten knead its claws against my neck. He’d been hiding under my hair, almost as if he sensed I was going to try to find a way to ditch him. He was so well hidden, in fact, Raisin hadn’t noticed him. “You’re supposed to be in school. From now on, you’re not allowed to visit the cabin during school hours.” I was firm despite the dejected look on the girl’s face. “I’m sorry, but ... you have rules you’re supposed to follow. I broke those rules today without even realizing it.”

  “What she’s saying is that you screwed yourself this go-around,” Gunner interjected, ignoring the way Raisin huffed and puffed. “Don’t look at me that way. Your father doesn’t like it when you hang around us. We agreed to certain rules. You broke those rules today and took advantage of Scout. You knew she wouldn’t argue because she had other things on her mind. Don’t bother denying it.”

  Raisin made a face that was straight out of a teenybopper television show. “I think you’re making way too big of a deal about this,” she complained.

  “Yes, well, that’s not really your call.” Gunner rested a hand on her shoulder and focused on me. “Give me about a
n hour and a half to get to your place, Scout.”

  “Thanks.” I meant it. “That works out well. I have a stop I want to make on the way home.”

  He pursed his lips. “All Souls Church?”

  I nodded without hesitation. “We have to start somewhere, right?”

  “I told you to let my father handle the investigation. He’ll tell us if there’s something he feels we should know.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps I simply think waiting is a bad idea.”

  “I agree with her,” Raisin announced. “Waiting is a terrible idea. I’ll go with her.”

  Gunner and I turned twin looks of disgust in the girl’s direction.

  “Don’t push me,” Gunner warned. “You’re sticking with me. No motorcycles. You know how your father feels about them.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t understand them,” she protested.

  “Maybe not, but we made a deal with him.” He refused to back down. “You’re coming with me, and Scout is going to find her own brand of mischief.” His gaze was heavy as it locked with mine. “Try not to tick off the religious folk. Most of them are fine, but a few of them are nuts.”

  “Isn’t that the way it is with almost everything?”

  “Just remember that I warned you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I waved off the comment. I was more than capable of taking care of myself. “I’ve got this under control.”

  ALL SOULS CHURCH WASN’T what I was expecting. I thought I would be dealing with happy-go-lucky churchgoers and a friendly pastor who would invite me over the threshold in the hopes of turning me to his religion.

  Instead I got a handful of dust in the face.

  No joke. A woman stood by the door and blew dust in my face the moment I tried to cross into the sanctuary.

  “Welcome to those with pure hearts and minds,” she announced, her expression benign.

  I swiped my hand over my face and glared at her. “What’s with the dust?”

  “You’ve been anointed in the body of our savior.”

  Hmm. That was a slight variation of the tale as far as I knew it. “The body of your savior, huh? Are you talking about Jesus?”

  The woman straightened. “I’m talking about he who is the resurrection and the light.”

  Good grief. She acted like a puppet with a hand stuck up her bottom, parroting information someone had clearly fed her but she didn’t understand. This is why I was always leery about organized religion. There were those who understood what they were preaching and believed wholeheartedly. That wasn’t my thing, but I understood it. On the flip side, there were those who mimicked faith, basically spouting off what they believed they overheard others saying. To me, those were the people to be wary of. And that’s exactly how I felt now.

  “And what does the dust do for you?” I asked. “Where do you get the dust? Is it magic dust?”

  I felt a presence move in behind me at the moment the final question escaped. I managed to keep my cool as I swiveled — I have issues with people sneaking up behind me, although I try not to show it — and came face to face with an odd-looking man in a brown robe.

  “Hello,” I mumbled, surprised.

  The man, who looked to be in his forties, arched an amused eyebrow. “Welcome to our sanctuary.”

  I stared at him a moment, uncertainty flowing over me. He was dressed differently than the others. Even the goofball who blew dust on me wore standard jeans and a sweater. He was something else. The bemused way he watched me — as if he was above everything and deigned to check in on the interloper — told me he was in charge.

  “My name is Scout Randall.” I jutted my hand out to see if he would take it. “I’m new to Hawthorne Hollow.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Scout Randall.” His tone was condescending and he made no move to shake my hand. After waiting another few seconds, I dropped it. “What brings you to Hawthorne Hollow?”

  “She’s hanging with the devils,” the woman hissed, her eyes going narrow. “You know the ones I’m talking about. They spend their time at that pit of passion they call a bar.”

  Pit of passion? “You mean The Rusty Cauldron?” I asked. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Cecily, my dear, I don’t think now is the time for this conversation,” the man soothed, offering the woman a look that set my teeth on edge. For some reason, I disliked him on sight. That was usually a sign that there was something off about the individual in question. In this particular instance, I seemed to have a lot to choose from.

  For her part, Cecily made a face as she glanced between us. “I’m the head of the welcome committee,” she reminded him.

  “Well, Ms. Randall has already been welcomed.” He kept his smile in place, but it was obviously a facade. “I’ll take over from here.”

  Cecily looked as if she wanted to argue but instead snapped her feet together, as if getting ready to salute, and nodded. “As you wish.” Slowly, she turned to me. I thought she was going to say something. Instead, she opened her hand and blew a fresh coating of dust in my face. “Remember that he is the resurrection and the light.”

  It took everything I had not to punch her in the face. “I’ll try to remember that.” I waited until she moved into the inner bowels of the church to wipe my face. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me do it. “She’s lovely,” I drawled.

  The man, who remained next to me and seemingly at ease, chuckled. “She has a few quirks. We don’t dissuade people from having quirks here, though. We want everyone to be who they are.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I wiped my hands on my jeans to get rid of the dust. “And who are you?”

  “Oh, where are my manners?” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “I’m Father Bram.”

  “This is a Catholic church?” I was understandably confused. “It doesn’t look like a Catholic church.” I peered inside the nave to be certain. “What kind of church is this?”

  “We’re not Catholic,” Bram replied, grinning. “We’re non-denominational.”

  “Then how are you a father?” It was an honest question. “I thought that term was a Catholic thing.”

  “No one has jurisdiction over a title.”

  “I think the folks at Marvel would argue that point when it comes to the Hulk ... and Thor ... and Captain America. Well, quite frankly, all of them. You know what I mean.”

  “I do and I’m not talking trademark issues.” Bram kept his smile in place, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me uncomfortable. “We don’t cling to old ways. We’ve created our own rituals ... and belief systems.”

  I was intrigued. “So ... you’re like a cult, huh?”

  “I don’t believe I said that.”

  “I’m not trying to upset you,” I said hurriedly. “I wasn’t raised in a religious household. Most of this is new to me.”

  “And where were you raised?” He gestured toward a small table and chairs placed close to a wall. I was trying to ingratiate myself, so I figured it was best to do as he asked.

  “Not here,” I replied, taking the seat that faced the door so I could monitor those coming and going from the church. “I grew up close to Detroit. I was in various foster homes at times, but for the most part I spent my time in a group home close to the Ambassador Bridge.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Bram looked legitimately contrite. “I believe children are our greatest assets. They should be revered, not thrown away with the trash.”

  His words grated. “I don’t really know how I ended up where I ended up. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t it?” He was clearly not convinced. “You seem the sort of person who is straightforward and says whatever comes to her mind. Is that not true?”

  “It’s true.”

  “So, why lie about your feelings toward your childhood? They’re written all over your face. I can feel the pain that emanates from you when you think about the life you could’ve led compared t
o the one you were afforded. There’s no shame in wishing things had been different.

  “Honestly, you would be surprised at the individuals who come through our doors,” he continued. “Many are like you, searching for something. They don’t believe we can help but are just desperate enough to try.”

  He was definitely full of himself.

  “Well, I am looking for something,” I conceded, leaning back in my chair and stretching my legs out in front of me so I could admire my boots. They were new and still being broken in, but they were handsome. “I’m looking for information on Hal Crosby.”

  Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Bram leaned forward, the arm of his robe brushing against the table as he rested his palms on the metal surface. “Why would you be searching for information about Hal?”

  His reaction was more intense than I thought it would be. “My understanding is that he was part of this church.”

  “He is.”

  “Was,” I corrected, playing a hunch. “He’s dead.”

  Bram sucked in a breath and rubbed his hands over his knees. He looked genuinely shocked. Of course, it was possible he was simply a good actor. His demeanor gave me pause, and I wasn’t the sort to openly trust someone if they hadn’t yet earned it.

  “You didn’t know,” I prodded finally.

  “No, I didn’t.” Bram shook his head. “It’s a shock. I saw him just the other day.”

  “What day would that be?”

  “Um ... Saturday. No, Sunday. It was Sunday I’m sure. He was here for my sermon.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since then?”

  “No. Hal was a dedicated soul who believed there was only one true path to his salvation.”

  Bram uttered the words as if they were normal, but I couldn’t help being agitated. The statement was an example of why I had shunned religion since childhood. That and the fact that I hated the idea of anything being foisted upon me when I didn’t get a choice to exert control.