She scoffs. “Listen here, I was good friends with the Lópezes, and I do not need permission from you—or anyone else, for that matter—to show my respect.”
“You do need permission to visit this site, which is still under investigation,” he counters.
The woman remains silent, seething as she narrows her gaze at the man. He has maneuvered himself so that only his back is to me, which is making it difficult to assess his features. From what I have seen, nothing about him appears familiar. He shares too few similarities with the man from my dream, but since I’m not one to believe in coincidences, I decide he must be tied to them. Within the span of a couple of weeks, there have been four newcomers to town: the rogue, the witch, the dreamwalker, and now the investigator. I can’t ignore this, and my friends won’t be able to either.
“Why are you here, Mr. Griggs?” she asks.
“Darkhaven was in need of fresh blood,” he says with the hint of a smile in his voice.
The woman sucks in a breath and holds it, her gaze scanning the length of the man’s tall frame. If he notices her reaction, he doesn’t mention it. Still, she remains silent, waiting for the man to speak again.
“If you must know, I moved here with my younger brother. Our parents died recently, and we needed a change of scenery. It just so happens Darkhaven was hiring.”
I don’t like this man, and I’m fairly certain this witch doesn’t either. Something is off about him. Like Sofía, he seems to be hiding something.
“Why Darkhaven?” she asks, speaking slowly. I appreciate her interrogation, but if he really does have something to hide, he won’t spill the beans tonight. I need to learn more about him, but I’m not sure how I can do that without speaking to someone in town.
“Does that matter?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
The witch takes a single step backward, putting space between them. “Like I said, we aren’t used to new residents. Darkhaven isn’t exactly on the map.”
He laughs. “I assure you, Darkhaven is on a map, and as I said, we were looking for a change of scenery. I was tired of city life. I wanted something…different. I will admit, I don’t know much about small towns save for one important thing.”
“And what’s that?” she asks cautiously. Even from this distance, I can smell her fear.
“People tend to snoop when they should leave well enough alone,” he says blatantly.
The woman’s jaw clenches, brows furrowing, eyes throwing death daggers at our newest resident.
“I am not snooping,” she says sharply. “I am showing my respect—something you need to learn more about.”
The man throws up his hands in defeat. “I assure you, I have no intention of denying your right to offer condolences. I understand you were friends with the family who lived here, and I do apologize for the unfortunate incident that has brought me to Darkhaven. I wish I were here under better circumstances. But you can’t disobey a clear order from the police. The tape is there for a reason. I can’t properly investigate the fire if people keep breaking in.”
She frowns. “What do you mean by keep breaking in? Someone else was here? Someone besides me?”
The man nods. “I’ve noticed several different individuals trespassing, which is why I thought I would stay near the property tonight.”
I curse internally. He was conducting a stakeout, which can only lead to one thing: discovering I am still alive. He probably has pictures of the people who resided here, so he knows what I look like. He knows I am the daughter of the woman who died here—the very one who supposedly died with her.
I’m guessing the intruder from earlier was Jasik, when he came to gather my mother’s ashes. The investigator might have even seen me here the night of the fire or when I came back the next day. I hate to admit it, but Malik was right. Returning here will only lead to disaster. If this man catches me off guard, he’ll quickly discover I’m not human. In the dark, if I keep my distance, it’s easy to miss my crimson eyes, my pale skin, but he’s interrogating the witch up close and personal. He will definitely notice I’m inhuman.
I take several steps back, pushing away from the tree and slipping into the darkness until I’m certain they can’t see me. With these two distracted by conversation, I run, abandoning the witch, dashing deeper into town and farther from the investigator.
Lunar Magic Shop is the sole occult store in Darkhaven. Surprisingly, in a town crawling with supernatural creatures, there aren’t more witchy stores. Most covens harvest their own herbs, make their own candles and elixirs, and pass down their book collections, so shops like this just become a cautionary tale, another statistic to convince optimistic entrepreneurs that being your own boss isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Thankfully, the owner of this particular store brushed off the naysayers, because this is my best chance at finding out more about the amulet and the dark entity the witches created—without asking Holland.
My legs are heavy as I approach the brick building, almost like they realize how quickly this encounter can go wrong. My heart is buzzing—with excitement or fear, I’m not sure. I come to a halt, gnawing on my lower lip as I stare at the magic store.
Somewhere inside, I will find the answers I need, but I’ll also find a living, breathing human being, and I don’t do so well when they’re nearby—you know, living, breathing, sucking up all the oxygen in the room as blood courses through their veins at unbearably high-pitched tones. It’s all I can hear sometimes, and since my mug of blood is still sitting in the microwave at the manor, I should walk away. But I know I won’t. I’m far too stubborn for common sense. After all, I made it this far.
Situated on a side street, the building stands two stories high, like all the downtown stores. The windows to the upstairs apartment—likely rented by yet another living, breathing person—are dark. I convince myself dark windows can mean only one of two things: the apartment is either unoccupied or currently empty. Maybe the shopkeeper lives there, and if that’s the case, my total human interaction count is down to just one: whoever runs the store at night. I find comfort in this because the last thing I need is for witnesses to see me loitering in town. It would also suck if I accidentally killed said person.
The storefront is comprised of brick surrounding nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, but it is almost impossible to see inside. Words like occult books, candles, herbs, and crystals are scrawled across the glass in neat calligraphy. A hand-drawn astrology chart, with symbols to represent each sign, occupies an entire window to my left. Another pane of glass is covered in Wiccan runes, with a sign that mentions a discount if shoppers sign up for the store’s email newsletter.
The door is also mostly glass, and the Open sign flickers brightly as I approach. I peer past the sign listing store hours, praying the time of night will ensure I am the only customer. From what I can tell, I am. It’s silent, with only a single heartbeat mocking my hunger.
A dim light illuminates the checkout desk, where the clerk is reading a book, nose stuffed between the pages, completely engrossed in everything but her surroundings. She hasn’t even noticed me watching her. Maybe Darkhaven wouldn’t be a prime hunting spot for rogues if humans took even basic self-defense lessons.