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Chapter Eighteen
Claire
My jaw ached. I’d been clenching it for hours. My molars ground against one another as I worked through the fury that followed Jack’s suggestion.
That the best thing for me would be to leave Mystic Springs.
To leave him.
Once I was home, I slammed the bedroom door and threw myself into reinforcing all my suppression spells.
Then I cursed the day I’d met Jack Beaumont.
And still, I wanted him just as much as I ever had.
Of course he wanted me to leave town. If I left, he could finally forget about me. He wouldn’t have to follow me, making sure I wasn’t getting into any more trouble, like a wayward puppy he’d been burdened with.
There was no reason for him to still feel so responsible for me. But one thing I knew for certain was that I no longer wanted to be that burden. For years, I’d done my best to convince myself that it was enough to be looked after in such a way.
But now, I knew it wasn’t. First, I’d seen him with Lana. Then he’d suggested twice that I leave town. The final blow had been him saying that nothing good had come of that night.
All of it added up to an exquisite hurt, making me feel unsettled. Made me feel as if there were no way to feel any comfort or joy again. I could still feel that cold, freezing air that had washed over me as he’d said the words.
When morning finally came, I realized it was Saturday, and that there was no reason for me to go into the Gazette’s offices for the day. There were no new leads. None that I could write about, anyway.
Staying in the house and moping wasn’t an option. I hadn’t bought groceries in over a week and my cupboards were nearly bare.
Perhaps getting out and doing something a little ordinary might help me focus. I’d be no good to Darla, Taryn, or anyone else if I started missing clues that were right there in front of me.
Once I was inside the grocery store, I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. Instead, I concentrated on the canned music being piped through the speakers overhead and the sound of squeaky shopping cart wheels. I listened, amused, as an older woman cursed her shopping cart for a bum wheel. For a while, I just pretended that nothing was out of place. That everything was normal. I’d get enough for supper tonight so I could spend the evening going over my notes. I would likely spend the night eating ramen. I’d listen to the scanner, trying to find any clue that would help me figure out what we had seen or, more correctly, what we hadn’t seen last night in the woods.
Grabbing a box of cereal, some soda, and a few other items, I made my way to the front of the store. As I rounded the aisle that would lead to the cash counter, I stopped cold.
A conversation was taking place between the cashier and the large, imposing man currently at the counter. It was a simple conversation. The kind of innocuous thing that shouldn’t have caught my attention. It was simply a man telling the cashier that he didn’t need a bag. Just one simple sentence.
But that one simple sentence was all I needed.
I knew that voice. I’d heard it in my dreams and nightmares for years.
It was the voice of the man who had eluded me for years. The man who had gotten away that night.
Leaving my cart in the bread and pastry aisle, I tried to remain discreet as I followed the man out of the store. I stayed far enough way from the warlock that he wouldn’t notice me following him. For a while, I could only catch glimpses of the back of his head, rarely his profile. But as he turned slightly to make his way into his car - a ratty Ford truck that had seen better days - I knew it was him. Because while his voice had haunted me, I also remembered what he looked like.
I attempted to look nonchalant as I walked to my car parked in the little lot that sat snug against the small grocery store. Fumbling with the ignition button, I watched as he busied himself with his groceries. Finally, the rumble of his truck screamed out and he pulled out of the parking lot.
Taking a deep breath and assuring myself that I could handle this, I followed the warlock. I’d learned over the years how to follow a car discreetly. Some tricks I’d picked up from Jack. Others I’d learned from doing my own investigative work.
I kept just enough distance between our two vehicles to not alert him to my pursuit. It was also just enough distance to give me a fit of anxiety that I might lose him.
It didn’t take long to realize that he was heading toward the area of the forest where the storm had descended the night before. The storm that was Darla Randall.
He didn’t bother to turn on his turn signal as he maneuvered the car into a grouping of trees to the right of the highway. While I was familiar with glamours, I still shivered as I watched him turn the truck into the trees. It made it look as if his truck had melted into the tree before it disappeared from the road altogether.
I pulled my car onto the shoulder of the road. Whatever doubts Jack and I may have had about a glamour around the area were now completely gone. While it was possible that Darla’s kidnappers also had some sort of magical security surrounding the perimeter, it was more likely that they were depending on the glamour to do most of the work. Keeping both the security and glamour working in tandem was a lot of work and energy for what appeared to be a somewhat scattered operation.
As I sat inside the car, I considered my options. I didn’t know what was beyond the edge of the glamour. I could call Jack and wait for him to arrive. The logical side of my brain told me that this would be the best option.
But the other part of my brain worried that this might be our last chance. That Darla and Taryn were on such borrowed time that I had to take every second I could grab to save them.
