I'll Conjure for You, page 13
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Helen said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chip nodded. “Weren’t recent though. My wife died about twelve years ago. Any-who, like I said, my Kelly came in here like a tornado and got the house back into shape. I just didn’t have it in me to take care of things around here. I felt tired all the time, wasn’t getting any sleep…. Doctor put me on iron for a while on account of all these bruises that kept showing up. I was feeling downright miserable for a spell.”
“When did you start to feel better?”
“Well, now, Garrett, my niece’s husband, started bringing things down from the attic about about a month ago. They left some of the more valuable things in the parlor until they could come back to town. Other things, they put out front, under the car park. They came back a week ago to finish the job and get ready for the sale. And I swear, as soon as they moved the rest of that junk to the front yard, I had the best night’s sleep for the first time in a long time.
“Kelly claims the clutter was wearing on my nerves. I don’t know, couldn’t tell ya. After the second day of them cleaning up, I finally got up enough energy to help them….” He trailed off with a confused expression and a half-smile. “I don’t rightly know how it happened, just that a fog kinda lifted. I felt like I was able to think again.”
“That’s really good to hear,” Helen said, casting a worried glance at Everett.
He felt the same nervousness as he listened to Chip.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much else to sell, if that’s why you’ve stopped by,” he added with a shrug. “Kelly pretty much saw to that.”
“Oh no,” Everett said. “We were more interested in the pieces you sold Milly. The trunk and mirror. I wanted to know where you got them from. How old they were… things like that.”
“Well, like I said, those were Alice’s things. Her grandparents left her the house when we were just starting out, and most of the stuff in it. The Ryckmans were one of those old Dutch families that settled in Pardon generations ago, so there’s no telling just how old Milly’s trunk is.”
“Right…” Everett breathed. “No telling.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were older than the first World War,” Chip mused, more to himself than to her. “I know that mirror is just as old.”
“Uh-huh.” Everett’s mind was racing. This wasn’t good news at all. Well, good news for Chip. It was great that he’d gotten his health back and he was on the mend, but what did that mean for his Nana?
“And in the time you weren’t feeling well, did you experience anything weird in the house?” Helen asked cautiously.
The old man scoffed. “Anything weird? How do you mean?”
Everett caught her eye and gave her a nod. She tried again. “Oh, you know: strange noises, random shadows… Weird. I only ask because you said you couldn’t sleep.”
Chip seemed to think for a moment. “I mean, I guess? This is a pretty old farmhouse, honey. You’re gonna hear some odd noises from time to time,” he chuckled.
But Everett heard something in his chuckle that didn’t sound comfortable. The man’s laughter sounded forced, strained. For the first time that morning, Chip’s smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. And instead of meeting either of their gazes, he turned around to busy himself with pouring another coffee.
“Everett, how’s your old man doing?” he asked in a voice that didn’t seem to jibe with the relief he’d previously described to them. There was a sudden shift in his body language now. His back looked ramrod straight beneath his faded denim overalls and his mouth now turned down at the corners as he worked through his task.
“He’s doing well,” Everett heard himself say.
Nervous energy seemed to jump from one person to another in that small kitchen. Starting with Chip. Helen picked at the acrylic paint on her coffee much while Everett’s jaw tightened in anxiety. Even Henry set his unblinking stare on the old man at the counter.
“Think he’s fit enough to come back to Friday night bowling? Haven’t seen him down at Jeb’s since last year.”
“I think the doctor’s cleared him.”
Chip turned around, mug in hand and gave a tight-lipped smile. “That’s good to hear.”
The silence that fell over the kitchen was deafening and set Everett’s nerves on edge.
Thump
He flicked his eyes to the rabbit who thumped in his basket. Henry’s ears stood straight up and his little nose was working overtime.
Thump, thump
Three people stared at the rabbit, unable to speak. Everett knew why his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he didn’t know why Chip’s face blanched at the sudden noise.
Finally the old man spoke. “Like I said, I don’t rightly know what it was that had me down, but I feel strong as a horse now.” He tried smiling again, but it wasn’t any brighter than the last attempt. “I thank you kids for coming over to visit, but I got some work to do out back… and if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to it.”
Helen sprang from her chair. “Of course! We’re sorry to intrude on you like this. Milly’s pieces were so… unique, we just wanted to learn more about them.”
Chip nodded again, but kept his eyes averted. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“No, we’re sorry for bothering you,” Everett said, putting a protective hand on the small of Helen’s back. “We’ll see ourselves out.” He led them down the hallway and back towards the front of the house. He all but pushed Helen to walk faster.
Once they got to the front door, Chip called out to them. “Milly’s doing okay, then?”
Everett stopped in his tracks, heart in his throat. Henry thumped again. When he turned around to look back at the old man, he struggled to keep his voice steady. “Milly’s alright.”
Chip had one hand in his pocket, the other held a mug. In the distance, Everett could see a flash of fear mar the man’s facial features. Instead of saying goodbye, he disappeared from view, back into his kitchen.
Everett’s hand trembled as he closed the door behind them and he didn’t feel relief until he helped a quiet Helen into the cab of his pickup truck. He kept his eyes down as he walked around to the driver’s side, fearful that he might catch Chip’s worried face behind a lace curtain.
Once he slammed his door shut, he let out a breath and closed his eyes.
“So you picked up on that, too?” Helen asked.
Everett opened his eyes, turned on the ignition and back out onto the road. “He knew.”
She nodded. “I felt his vibration and saw the palest parts of his aura. Red with dark edges… like he was still repairing himself. I don’t think he wanted to talk about what really plagued him.”
He didn’t know shit about auras, but Everett believed her. Whatever Chip was afraid of, it was obvious he didn’t want it to come back. Once they were back on the tree-lined highway, Everett felt his blood pressure stabilize and he scoffed. “This town… is filled with superstitious folks who aren’t ready for what you and Whitney experienced. Lord knows I was one of them.”
“So long as you believe enough to get us through this next step,” Helen said in a soft voice. She focused on Henry, stroking his ears against his back. “We’re going to need every spell I have.”
He rested his hand on her thigh, feeling the intense heat he’d been avoiding all morning. It sent a ripple through his body and heightened each of his senses, yet the skin-to-skin contact managed to calm him, too. “I believe, Helen.”
Chapter 17
Everett’s words had stuck with Helen when he dropped her off at Bordeaux B&B. She was sad to see him drive away, but she’d need a full day with only her thoughts to process what had happened at Chip’s.
Were the people of Pardon wary of the Beck sisters? Sure, many folks clamored to the B&B wanting to know more about what happened on Ghost Punters… but every once in a while, older townspeople would cast Helen a cautious glance in public spaces. It wasn’t until she flashed them a friendly smile that their faces would soften.
Maybe they were right to be afraid.
The more she learned about witchcraft, she realized that a little superstition was actually healthy. Whether folks believed in God or not, there were all kinds of unexplainable phenomena all around them. As far as she knew, some of the unexplainable was downright terrifying and needed her respect. Whatever was currently dwelling in Milly’s house seemed to command it.
She spent another night hyper-focused on Milly’s case, reading through her Grand-Mère’s grimoire until she fell asleep at her altar. When she awoke the next morning, paper-creased wrinkles on her sweaty face, Helen also had an idea. She took a long shower to think it through, fed Henry and then herself, before hopping in her Jeep. While she drove into town, she called Everett with her hands-free device.
“Helen,” he answered in a quiet rumble. “Are you okay?”
The sound of his voice filled the small space of her vehicle, enveloping her in a warm hug. Tight enough to squeeze the air from her lungs. “Hi,” she breathed through the sudden heat. “Yeah, I’m headed your way actually. You have time for a quick trip to the city archives?”
“Of course,” he purred. “It’s just me and Jeremy, but things are pretty slow. Meet you there?”
“Please,” she panted. Christ, what was wrong with her? She tightened her hands on her steering wheel and concentrated on his voice.
“Did you—” he cut himself off with a sigh before speaking again. Helen didn’t know how it was possible, but Everett managed to deepen his voice. “Were you able to sleep okay last night?”
His question seemed innocent enough, but he seemed to be asking something more. Had she slept okay without him? Helen shook out the collar of her t-shirt, fanning cool air to her chest. For a split second, she considered being honest. Telling him straight up that nothing would ever be as sweet as laying in his arms dreaming of his hands all over her body. She went with something more prudent. “I slept fine,” she eventually eked out with half-hearted enthusiasm.
He huffed a chuckle into the phone. “Pleasant dreams?”
Now he was just being cheeky. She cranked up the air conditioning and adjusted the vents to hit her right in the face. “Everett….”
“I’ll see you in a few,” he murmured before hanging up.
Helen let out a deep breath when silence blanketed the truck. She hadn’t anticipated for the heat to hit as hard as it did through their phones lines. It seemed impossible, but the past couple of days proved that she couldn’t put much stock in the word impossible.
It hadn’t taken very long to get downtown and find a parking spot near the town clerk’s office at Pardon City Hall. When she pulled up, she spotted Everett on the sidewalk, wearing dark blue jeans that hugged his massive thighs and a black t-shirt. Today’s selection was Pink Floyd’s album cover, Dark Side of the Moon. Its sleeves were fighting a losing battle against his biceps.
“Whew, get it together, bitch…” she muttered to herself as she quickly checked herself in the rearview mirror. Her brown skin was already flushed with a light sheen of perspiration. She grabbed her backpack and all but ran to him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said, leaning over her. He was tall enough to block the sun from beating down on her, but she was still burning up. Everett’s dark green eyes roved down her body as he licked his bottom lip, and he looked absolutely feral. “I’ll be honest with you: I know we’re supposed to come up with a plan, but I’m a little distracted right now. Like, I want to crawl out of my skin, distracted.”
“Welcome to my world,” she quipped.
Her joke seemed to break the simmering tension long enough for Everett to blow out a relieved laugh. “Okay, that’s fair…”
“I know what you mean though,” she admitted. “I didn’t feel overwhelmed until I called you, and I’m a little surprised that the effects were so strong.”
Everett shook his head. “I’m not.”
She gave him a curious stare. The certainty in his voice seemed to come out of nowhere. It wasn’t like he knew anything about magic. “Well, maybe we should help each other stay on task today. I wanted to visit the archives to check on Chip’s in-laws, the Ryckmans. When their house was built and who lived there.”
“You think we might find clues about the trunk from land deeds?” He asked, narrowing his eyes towards the building.
“It couldn’t hurt to try. If we don’t come up with anything, I can try the library next.”
He gave a resolute nod. “Let’s try it then.”
“The Ryckmans are an old family, indeed…” Helen murmured as she traced her finger over the land map of Pardon from 1736. After a half hour of searching through deeds and census reports, they hadn’t gotten much closer to learning about Alice Picard’s steamer trunk. Down in the stuffy basement where the town archives were stored, Helen expected to find something more interesting.
But instead of reports of a haunted well, or witch-trials, or a disastrous plague, she only dug up the more realistic tragedy of colonialism: the displacement of the Onondaga Nations by Dutch and French occupiers.
Everett sat down at the long table thumbing through his own ledger, his dark brow furrowed in concentration. “The trunk is old, but not 1700s old. I think Chip said something about World War One, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “It looked like it might be from that era.”
“Hey, have you noticed something weird about this Ryckman family?”
“Weird, how?”
Everett picked up his book, brought it to her end of the table, and set it before her. “They’ve been here since the beginning.” He pointed to Pardon’s original town charter. “Such an old Dutch family should have amassed more land than what Chip Picard is currently living on. They should have been rich as hell and running Pardon. But as far as I can tell, Alice was the last living Ryckman in this town and her land is only about a couple acres.”
Helen’s ears perked up with the inconsistencies. “How big was the family?”
Everett flipped through the pages. “Big. This family tree had a lot of branches, but as the years went on, more and more parcels of land were sold off. They got into the fur trade with the French, though that didn’t last long. They ran a mill for a while, but that fell away. They farmed, they were merchants, but nothing seemed to stick. And each census shows more people either dying or leaving town.”
Helen’s eyes followed the numbers as the pages flipped. Each generation appeared to give birth to fewer children, and he was right; more and more land was sold off. She looked up at Everett, who leaned over her shoulder. “Family curse?”
He was so close….
“Could be.”
That familiar ache returned swiftly, pounding in her chest and between her thighs. His soft breath fanned her cheek as he searched her gaze. “We should probably head to the library to fill in these gaps,” she whispered.
Everett’s eyes cut to her mouth and he swallowed. “Probably.”
But they were tucked away in the cool, musty basement of archived documents, with no adult supervision. The town clerk, Ms. Lydia, was an elderly woman who hadn’t bothered to take them downstairs, referencing a sore hip. She’d just handed Helen the keys and told them to put everything back where they found it. This knowledge made her want to do something reckless.
Reckless Helen wanted to make mischief beneath Town Hall.
For once, she wouldn’t have to blame it on poor impulse control. She was quite literally under a spell of her own making. The warm southern winds were really at fault here.
Everett’s hand lifted to cup her cheek, his skin just as hot against hers. “That feeling is back though, isn’t it?”
She gave him a wordless nod.
“I tried, Helen, but I can’t think of anything outside of what it might be like to fuck you.”
A delicious tremor ran through her body, shaking her within his grasp. “We can’t,” she croaked.
His sad smile seemed to mirror her own disappointment. “No, we can’t.”
She covered his hand with hers and straightened up in her chair. “But we can always be creative.”
Everett’s smile widened into an almost feral grin. “I can be creative,” he said, sliding his hand down the length of her neck. He paused for a moment to regard her. “Your pulse is thumping like Henry’s foot.”
She gave a breathy laugh. “Yours isn’t?”
Instead of replying, he pulled her by the back of the neck until their lips collided and he stole a rough kiss. It was much better than his first one. His skill had caught up to his passion and he devoured her with one demanding tongue swipe after another. Helen had little choice but to follow his lead and let herself get swept away in the moment. Her skin prickled with awareness as flames grew within her chest and licked a fast-burning path throughout her limbs before hitting her lower belly. She tried to breathe but was drowning in his kiss.
Can you die from kissing? It wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.
But he released her soon enough, slowly shifting behind her chair and disappearing from view. “Everett?” she panted.
“You said something when you were in my bed the other night…” Two massive hands trailed down her shoulders, tracing a path along her breasts, stopping only to brush his thumbs against her nipples. She groaned under his touch. “While you showed me how you liked to be touched, you were very specific.”
Helen could barely remember what she ate for breakfast, much less what she said while she foolishly pleasured herself in front of him. His hands skimmed down her belly as he leaned over her shoulder. She watched them in fascination, memorizing every pale scar and nick across his strong knuckles. Old injuries from his manual labor in Alaska. The strength of his hands, the power in them, excited her. He stopped at the waist of her khaki shorts, hands shaking, probably from the same nervousness she felt.
