The Frozen Witch Book One (4 page)

I had plenty of coping mechanisms these
days, but deep down, under this acerbic personality I’d built
myself, I was still that scared, anxious child. And right now, she
shivered. Shivered at the look Franklin had given her, shivered at
Larry’s pale cheeks, and more than anything, shivered at the cold
spreading through her chest.

Stacy suddenly walked through the door.
“Hey, there you are.” She looked flustered. “Suzy has burnt herself
in the kitchen. I’ve got to get back out onto the floor. Can you
get the first aid kit—” she began.

I didn’t give her the chance to finish. I
walked through the service door.

“Hey!” she protested.

Though all I wanted to do was turn tail and
hide, I… found myself strangely pulled towards Franklin.

For somebody with known anxiety problems, I
also had a known curiosity problem. And those two disorders did not
go hand-in-hand. Sometimes I would flip. I would become intensely
curious about the very thing that made me frightened, so curious
that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from seeking it out.

And that’s what was happening now, right?
That’s what was drawing me after Franklin and Larry. Curiosity and
a desired to ensure Larry was safe.

It had to be curiosity, because what else
could it be? It couldn’t be that I felt… compelled. That the cold
sensation welling in the center of my chest felt like it was
pulling me along, like somebody had wrapped a rope around my wrist
and was now dragging me forward with relentless strength.

I tuned out the chatter of the wait staff as
they bustled around me. Instead, I followed Franklin and Larry at a
distance. Though Franklin appeared to take Larry on a circuitous
route through the depths of the building, I never got lost. It was
almost as if I knew where they were going….

I had no idea what I was doing – none. This
was crazy. And yet I couldn’t stop.

I followed them until they came to a
relatively simple corridor, considering how fancy the rest of this
building was.

Pressing myself behind a thankfully tall and
verdant Kentia palm, I watched Franklin open a door and lead Larry
inside.

“God, what the hell is happening?” I
mouthed under my breath.

I teetered on the spot, trying to decide
whether to turn around or try to overhear what was being said.

My curiosity won out.

I darted out from behind the tall palm and
shifted forward warily.

Shaking, I pressed my ear against the closed
door. My fingers practically scrabbled over the door in my
eagerness to overhear what was being said within.

At first, all I could discern were low,
muffled tones, interspersed here and there with louder bursts as if
somebody was shouting. With my heart ramming hard in my throat, I
tried to decide what to do. It wasn’t as if Larry McGregor ever had
trouble holding his own. And yet, even a fool would realize he was
no physical match for Franklin Saunders.

Again my wrist tingled where he’d grabbed
it. In fact, it did more than tingle. If I’d had the presence of
mind to drag it up and check the skin, I would have seen something.
Something funny, something flickering, and something winding its
way under my skin. But right now all I could do was lock my full
attention on that door and the argument within.

I wasn’t a lucky girl. Nor was I very good
at predicting events even when they were obvious. I was more of the
kind of clueless chick who would miss the leprechaun for the
rainbow. And yet, right now, my tummy pitched, and just in time I
scuttled off down the corridor, found a half open door, and threw
myself within. A second later, I heard a door open and footsteps
ring out.

Pressing myself against the doorframe and
peering out of the crack in the door, I caught sight of two
figures: Larry and Franklin. I could have fallen to my knees as a
relieved shudder passed through my body. Larry was alive, then.

Of course he was alive, my rational mind
retorted immediately. Because this entire situation was innocent,
right? I hadn’t slept well last night, I was stressed, and god
knows I wasn’t eating well. The tingle dancing through my wrist,
the look Franklin Saunders had shot me – none of this was real. It
was all my overactive imagination—

“So what happens now?” Larry asked through
an unmistakable shaky, terrified breath.

I watched Franklin Saunders smooth down
his tie and take special care to neaten his brass tie pin. I hadn’t
managed to get a good look at it when I’d seen him in the function
hall, and I was too far away to properly discern it now. And yet,
whatever it was, it was clearly important to him. Evidenced by the
fact he gave it one more lingering pat before he stretched out his
shoulders and let his hands tensely drop to his sides. “What
happens now, Larry McGregor, is this: you leave town, you sell your
business, you donate the proceeds to charity, and you never
return.”

Larry spluttered.

I waited for Franklin to laugh, for somebody
to point out this all had to be a joke. But from the ashen,
destroyed look crumpling Larry’s features, to the tight, determined
angle of Franklin’s jaw – none of this looked funny.

Stifling a gasp, I crammed a hand over my
mouth, crumpling my lips with my rigid fingers and feeling saliva
slick my skin.

“Sell everything—” Larry began, voice
shaking. Not with anger, mind you, but with fright. The Larry I
knew would take the opportunity to turn hard on his foot, sock
Franklin on the jaw, and laugh his ass soft. There was nothing more
important to Larry than money. And giving every cent he owned to
charity? Yeah, he would rather feed his entrails to a
bear.

So why did Larry take a dejected step back,
his eyes now so hooded it looked as if they were trying to sink
through his skull?

“Yes, sell everything. Give the proceeds
to charity. And, Larry McGregor, never come to my attention again.”
With that, Franklin Saunders turned hard on his foot, his expensive
shoes squeaking over the polished floor. He neatened his tie pin
once more, cracked his shoulders, and walked off.

I stood there, still pressed up against
the crack in the doorway, breath a frozen lump in my
lungs.

Larry took an unsteady step towards the
wall, planted a hand onto the plaster, let his head drop, and
breathed. Just when I thought he would keel over, he pushed a hand
into his pocket and plucked out his mobile.

Franklin Saunders may have been the richest
man in town, but Larry McGregor was no pushover. He also had the
kind of contacts in the underworld who would make any good boy
cringe. Except Larry didn’t make a call to every mob kingpin he
knew. Instead, he called his bank.

I only caught the beginning of the
conversation before Larry pulled himself together and walked off
down the corridor. But I heard enough to confirm one fact – Larry
was selling everything.

As soon as his heavy, dejected footfall
was out of earshot, I let a gasp rattle out of my mouth. I took a
step back into the darkened room behind me, now cramming a hand so
hard over my mouth it was a surprise I didn’t squeeze my lips into
spaghetti. “What the hell is going on here?” I questioned no one in
particular.

This… this couldn’t be happening.

It had to be some kind of mistake. A game,
maybe. Perhaps Larry had seen me dart into this room, and he was
good friends with Franklin – and the two were now playing a trick
on me. Except they didn’t turn around, rush up, and laugh until
they went blue in the face.

No.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath,
finally realizing I couldn’t exactly stay in this room
forever.

Instead, carefully checking that no one was
in sight, I walked out, cringing when the door creaked on its
hinges. It didn’t bring Franklin Saunders powering down the
corridor, though.

No, fortunately I was alone.

Adrenaline pumped through every muscle and
tissue, leaving my fingers and toes tingling as if I’d just dragged
them through a bed of lightning.

I hesitated before shifting forward. Though
common sense told me to get the hell out of here, I was way beyond
common sense.

Because… I felt something in the room
Franklin and Larry had been in. As I approached, I felt like I was
being reeled in like a caught fish.

I couldn’t really describe it. This sense
shot down my back and sunk hard into my middle. It left a tight
shiver racing across my shoulders.

I crammed a hand on my tummy and tried to
stifle the strange sensation. But there was no chasing it
away.

My gaze cut up and locked on that doorway
once more.

Now I’d confirmed Larry was okay(ish), I
should have been rushing to get the first aid box for Suzy, but
suddenly that didn’t matter. Suddenly, nothing at all mattered,
apart from that door.

Almost unconscious of the action, and
completely unable to stop it, I reached a hand forward. As my
fingers brushed the cold metal handle, I had a sudden second of
clarity – just enough to question what I was about to do.

….

Curiosity got the better of me. I opened
the door and walked into the room. It was simple, seriously simple
compared to the rest of this opulent building. It was almost
entirely unadorned, except for a single desk and a single
chair.

It was a small room, and it had no windows.
I really doubted it was somebody’s office. Not unless they were
really unpopular. Nope, the first impression that came to mind was
an interrogation room.

I shifted forward, hand still locked on
the door handle. Almost instantly my gaze was drawn toward an
object sitting on the desk. It was a book. I leaned forward and
picked it up. Frowning as my fingers brushed against the old black
leather, a jolt of something snapped hard up my back. It was such a
powerful sensation, I felt as if I’d been thrown from my
feet.

“What? What the hell?” I
stuttered.

Before I could open the book and find out
what was inside, I saw something that had been hidden beneath it: a
small wooden box.

I was no expert when it came to antiques,
but I was guessing it wasn’t from the local souvenir store. The
wood was cracked and chipped, marked with age. There was something
about that unmistakable feeling of antiquity that lapped off the
box that made me grind to a standstill. I stood there, frozen like
someone had just locked me in shackles.

Unconsciously, before I knew what I was
doing, I reached a hand out and plucked the box up. A tight shiver
escaped down my back: fast, unrelenting as it took my heart on a
rollercoaster ride.

Suddenly
and completely overtaken by the
box, I let the book drop. It fell onto the table in front of me,
opening onto a seemingly random page. It caught my attention for
half a second, and that was all it took.

The book was almost a ledger, except it
wasn’t reconciling accounts. Instead, it appeared to reconcile
crime. A name was written in the left hand column. None other than
Larry McGregor. Written in the right-hand column was a horrible
list of crimes: theft, racketeering, aiding and abetting, cooking
the books. You name it – apparently Larry had done it.

My lips froze open in surprise as I brought
the book up and read it.

It didn’t take long for the box to steal
away my attention once more. Placing the book back down, I slowly
sat in the chair. Unintentionally, I ran a hand over the box. There
was an odd symbol carved in the lid. It didn’t look rough, and yet
cut my thumb as I stroked it.

Yelping, I sucked in a sharp breath as
several droplets of blood splashed down from my thumb and ran along
the carved symbol.

….

Something… something started to happen.
Light. Light began to spill along the symbol as if someone had
somehow filled it with fire.

“What the hell?” I screamed as I pushed
the box back. I jolted to my feet.

At first, my rational mind told me it was
some kind of electrical effect. There must be globes hidden under
the wood, too small to see.

But a second later, unmistakable blue flames
grew brighter and brighter. They began to leap all over the wood,
somehow consuming it without destroying it.

I jolted back again, my foot catching the
chair leg. The chair clattered out from behind me, slamming against
the floor with a rattling thump.

I felt something moving along my thumb.
Shrieking and backing off, I jerked my hand from side-to-side. I
assumed it was a spider, but it was no spider.

As I brought my hand around, I saw a tiny
lick of blue flame trapped within the skin. For a sudden, shifting
moment of shock, I could do nothing but stand there and stare at
it.

Then… then something exploded across my
skin. At the same time, the coldest sensation I’d ever felt spread
through my chest. It shifted with all the chaotic fury of wildfire,
and yet felt as cold as the heart of the oldest glacier.

Symbols exploded across my body. They
started from the cut in my thumb, powering down my wrist, exploding
up my hand, and rushing over my chest.

“Oh my god!” I shrieked, shaking my hand
wildly as I tried but failed to dislodge the light.

Symbols danced over my flesh like live
tattoos. At first they stung, but soon felt like nothing more than
creatures wending beneath my skin.

I screamed and screamed, but no one could
hear me.

Shaking, practically convulsing, I cowered
against the wall, back slamming into it as I lost all balance.
Knees buckling, I fell on my ass.