STAIN (My Soul To Wake Book 1) (5 page)

“Yes?” I call into the receiver nervously.

The voice on the other end clears his throat. “Your guest has arrived miss. He is happy to wait in the lobby for you.”

I exhale relief at the sound of the receptionist. A perfectly normal phone call from a perfectly normal person.

“Thank you. We’ll be right down.”

~*~

Nina and Courtney thankfully chose the backseat of Will’s large black pickup truck.  After the morning we’ve had, I’m not sure if it’s to distance themselves from me, or to generously give me a closer seat to our escort. Either way, I’m grateful to them.

Will closes the car door after I’m fully situated in the leather chair, eyes connected with mine through the glass window. We haven’t said much more than short “hellos” yet, but his eyes have had entire conversations with mine as soon as he set his attention on me when I walked down the main staircase of the hotel to find him in his crisp-white, fitted, long sleeve shirt and jeans.

His dark amber-colored eyes locked onto me then and haven’t let go. I argue against myself as to which is his most endearing attribute… his warm smile or his deep gaze.

He takes the wheel, and closes his door, sealing us all inside. I can smell an herbal, musky cologne with a hint of citrus and close my eyes to make a memory of it. The scent is perfect for him. I imagine it clinging to his skin, coating its fragrance onto him.

I smile at him, hoping I’m able to mask my thoughts. Sitting mere inches away from him, I picture his smooth, tanned skin oiled with cologne and he doesn’t have a clue.

He laughs to himself at some imaginary joke and turns the key, bringing the beast of a truck to life. He’s told me he’s in construction and I believe it by the hardhat on the dashboard, the clipboard of invoices wedged in the center console and the box of rattling nails near my feet.

“Did you work this morning?” I ask him. It’s late afternoon and he’s very recently showered, with his short blonde hair still damp.

He smirks to me as I check him out, catching me as my eyes inspect his appearance. I like what I see, but I hope I don’t make him feel like he’s on display or anything.

“Half day. I’ve got a crew finishing up some framing we’re doing for a remodel,” he casts his attention over his shoulder as he pulls out into traffic. “But, they should be done early, too.” He turns to me once again, darting his eyes back to the road every second or so. “Besides. I’ve got better things to do.”

My stomach drops. I feel a weightlessness in my lower half. I cross my legs and shift to hide any trace of shyness from him.

“Did you go to the art museum?” he inquires. I had spoken to him on the phone just before breakfast when we set our plans for tonight.

I had every intention of going to the Peabody-Essex Museum this morning, but the girls’ psychic trip screwed everything up. I was so flustered after we left that I took a long walk to calm down instead of making better use of my time.

I shake my head. “No. Didn’t get to.”

Will tightens his lips. “That’s a shame. Be sure to fit it in sometime. They have great exhibits. I’ve donated to them over the years, so I have complimentary passes. We… we could check it out if you want?”

“Not tonight, though, right?” Courtney scoots up to insert herself between Will and me, through the center console opening. “I mean, we’re not going there
now
, are we? I thought we were going to have fun?”

I can’t help but laugh at the whiny tinge to her voice. She reminds me of a bratty kid upset at where her parents are taking her. Will must think something similar, because he’s laughing right along with me.

“No. Not now. How about tomorrow night?” he asks me, with Courtney looking on as well for my answer.

I feel my cheeks blushing. “Sure. That--, that would be cool.”

Cool?
Cool? Who the hell says
cool
anymore? What am I? In high school? That band is cool, those shoes are cool. That TV show last night was cool. Being asked out again by the hottest man in existence is a hell of a lot better than just
cool
. I could have said anything. Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. Anything that would suggest I have a vocabulary beyond that of a Valley girl.

Oh God! I’m driving myself mad. Just being this close to him is frying my brain cells. I’m turning into an idiot.

“So where
are
we going, then?” Nina wants to know.

“One of the oldest houses in town. Well… it used to be a house. It’s been abandoned for decades but, surprisingly, it’s pretty intact. The historical society won’t touch it. Needs too much work and it won’t bring in the tourists like some of the more famous houses do,” Will answers Nina, but there’s an unintended harshness to his tone. “It’s all about money and attractions with those people. To hell with all the real pieces of history that are just falling apart and decaying around here.”

I can tell it’s a sore subject for him, the exposed flesh of his neck is reddening in stark contrast to the bright white of his shirt. His right hand is perched on the gear shift centered between us. I extend my fingers and touch his skin to reassure him.

“It’s good that people like you actually remember, then. Keep those places alive before they’re forgotten.”

His pointer finger maneuvers out from under my hand and wraps around my finger, squeezing thanks for acknowledging something clearly important to him. I leave my finger be, wound up in his.

“So… is this like a date, you two?” Leave it to Court to have impeccable timing.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Will and I answer simultaneously.

He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow.

“No?”

“Yes?”

We ask in unison again, this time answers switched.

Court pats Will’s shoulder before sitting back. “I’m rooting for you. Really, I am.”

Fifteen minutes and several turns later, we’re slowing into a small residential area. This one isn’t as grand as the one that welcomed us to town yesterday. Some of the houses are in disrepair, some in the early stages of neglect. Aging cars line the street and park in the drives of the small single-family homes that are most definitely part of the working class of this town.

We pull to a stop in front of an empty lot. Well, empty of house, but full of trees.

“This is it.” Will says, signaling our arrival.

Court and Nina stare at each other. I decide it’s best not to linger long enough to give them cause to start to complain, so I open and shut my door quickly, leaving them isolated in the truck cab until they grow tired of it and join us.

Will stands taller than I remember from last night, but one glance down explains why. He’s wearing thick-soled work-style boots.

“It’s a short walk. They’ll catch up.” He takes my hand in his and leads the way down a thin but well-worn dirt path cutting its way through the brush.

“Popular place, huh?” I ask him as we follow the steps apparently taken by others before.

“Teenagers love to hang out and drink in these old houses. And…” he stops himself.

“And what?”

He exhales deeply. “And some people who follow old beliefs come to this place thinking it will bring them closer to…”

He stops yet again and eyes me. I squeeze his hand. “To what?”

“To power. Some say this is where witchcraft started in Salem.”

He immediately judges my reaction.

I laugh. “You know, I met a charming cashier on our way up here who told me to stay away from the crazies.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulls me in close, arms resting loosely on my waist. A low-hanging branch soon appears, justifying his sudden move. He turns to face me, still close. Hands still positioned as before, however no more branches in sight. “So she thinks they’re crazies. Do you?”

“I don’t know. I think there’s a lot of magic in this world. I’m just not sure it would fall under the category of witchcraft.” I answer the best I can. Truthfully, I’d never given the topic much thought.

“Coming through!” Courtney’s voice pierces around the trees. She and Nina quickly follow. “There was a homeless man. He was scary and he was eyeing us!”

Will laughs. “That’s just Crazy Eddie.” The name does nothing to change the girls opinion of him. “He’s harmless. He lives on the other side of town in one of the Veterans homes. He walks the town every day. Keeps an eye on things.”

“Yeah, well, he was keeping an eye on us, and I didn’t like it. So we’re crashing your date.” Nina passes us now, marching even further away from Crazy Eddie.

I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders.

Will laughs again. “All right. Let’s keep going. It’s about thirty yards up ahead.”

True to his word, about thirty yards ahead is a cleared out section in the brush. Aside from one or two empty beer cans laying about, the place shows no signs of modern times.

A foundation of rounded boulders demarcates the outline of where the antique structure stands. Planks of wood cover the outside like a spider web, with empty sections where nature has had its way with the façade.

Strangely enough, there is a door, or at least I think it’s a door in what must be the front of the house. A large brass knocker is dead center in it.

I step closer, examining it. “I can’t believe this is still here. I mean, you would think someone would have stolen it by now. Especially with teenagers hanging around.”

Courtney and Nina are equally as intrigued by the old house, walking the perimeter, inspecting it.

“Not from this place.” Will steps closer behind me. “I meant what I said about how people feel about this place. Anyone with half a brain would think twice about stealing anything from here.”

I turn to him, my back now facing the abandoned home. “Like hallowed ground or something?”

Will grunts. “This place is
anything
but holy. But, in a way you’re right. It’s a powerful place. Even the people who don’t believe in that power still respect it. Because deep down they’re afraid that they just might be wrong.”

I get that. The whole “that which isn’t known should be feared” kind of thing. I remember from Psych 101 that it’s one of the most basic human reaction to things.

Court and Nina are now on the far side of the building, out of view.

“So, why is this place so powerful?” I run my fingers along the oxidized metal of the old door-knocker.

“It’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you.” His hand reaches up and covers mine, pulling our joined fingers back to break contact with the object.

“I like long stories,” I reply playfully. “Besides… I have a feeling you tell really interesting stories.”

Will’s eye arches. “Okay. Well… it started a long time before this place actually. In France. In Marseille, I think. There was a young man. His name was Malcolm. As far as anyone knows, he was actually an Englishman.”

I find myself stepping away from the house, following him as he leads me to an oversized, old worn wooden tree trunk that had been cut. The top surface is smooth. We both sit, and he continues his tale.

“Legend has it he was handsome, charming, and greedy. He practiced magic but didn’t feel that he was powerful enough. The more power he harnessed, the more he wanted. That’s what led him to France. He wanted the highest, strongest of powers. But someone else possessed it. An old witch that had bewitched herself to age slower than slow. She was one of the three most powerful in the world. One of the Triad.”

I’m entranced by his account. “The Triad?” I find myself asking.

He nods. “The Triad. They were… kind of like the governing body of those who practice magic. They possessed more than any others and would kind of keep control over the rest. Well, Malcolm wanted that power for himself--”

“He wanted to become part of the Triad?” I interrupt.

“You don’t
become
part of the Triad. The three are old, and their power had made them arrogant, paranoid. They did anything necessary to hold on to their position. Their power was as much a part of them as their bodies were. The only way to have the power of the triad was to either be given it freely by one who posses it before, which was very unlikely considering how selfishly they regarded it, or… to take it by trickery. Either way, once their power was given or taken by another, they would die without it. For that reason, the three practically isolated themselves and kept few close.”

I find myself biting my lip in anticipation of the lesson. Will sees and his eyes hone in to my mouth. I see him shift and adjust his posture. I release my lip just as a swell of hot liquid adrenaline plunges to my core.

He clears his throat. “So Malcolm found one of the three, the Marquess de les Songe. He charmed her and she took him as a lover. He invested time and energy into trying to get her to love him, but she loved no man. The only person she loved was her daughter Marcelle. The daughter was kind-hearted and beautiful. She was innocent. When Malcolm saw that he was getting nowhere with the Marquess other than in her bed, he became inwardly bitter toward her. In secret revenge, he seduced Marcelle. She fell madly in love with him, blind to his shrewdness.”