AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Didn’t want to beat off poor human boys with a stick, huh?”
“I only meant that my features are rare for humans, but I’m glad to know you think I’m beautiful.”
“I-I didn’t say that!”
Oh, God. Did I really just flirt with a mythical creature who attempted to murder me an hour ago?
She snickered at my frustration, then switched back to her “normal” appearance. One second, she was plain-faced, and the next, she was Freya. Watching it gave me a headache.
“So, you use magic to hide this place?” I asked, “and yourself?”
“Magic isn’t a swear-word, Walker.”
Neither is my name, I thought. I turned off the truck and hopped outside. Naturally, I walked around the front of the old thing to open Freya’s door, but she’d already gotten out by the time I reached it. She frowned and stepped around me. Arion was hot on her heels. I needed to lay off the chivalry. She was a witch. Freya could take care of herself.
“Everyone should be at the gathering in the wood,” Freya said. “They’re performing a spell for clarity about what happened, but all the others have been fruitless. Whoever’s responsible is covering their tracks with some pretty remarkable magic.”
“What about the woman—witch—we’re here to see?” I asked.
“She’s staying by her portal in case I need help tonight. She wanted to come, but I insisted I work alone.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It would’ve been horrible if something went wrong while you were trying to kill me.”
Freya sighed and stopped. We stood in front of my truck on the paved road that led to the apartments. The moonlight poured down on us.
“I am sorry,” Freya said. Her copper eyes stared deeply into mine, and she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. It sprang free immediately. “I thought you killed my mother. I wouldn’t have hurt you, had I known the truth. I wouldn’t have dragged you into any of this.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and I suddenly felt like an ass. The poor girl’s mom had just died. I knew how that felt. It was why I kept the pity out of my stare.
That was all anyone could offer me after Mom’s death, other than whispers they thought I didn’t hear about her “tragic accident.” Then came the talk of how poorly my dad handled it. For my last two years of high school, I was reduced to the kid whose mom died or Drunk Clyde’s son. Only Sawyer and Brody didn’t treat me differently, and that was the one thing that made it bearable. That, and their understanding when I’d snap for no reason or go days without talking.
If I could’ve killed the guy responsible, I would’ve.
“Consider yourself forgiven,” I said. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“No promises,” she said and winked.
I really hoped she was joking.
I followed her up the paved road, which curved to the left and transformed into white cobblestones. The apartments loomed taller than I expected, and a second building stood across the cobblestone street, farther up the mountain. Well-groomed flowerbeds flourished in front of the apartments. A dark, stone fountain trickled in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Inside it, a statue of three women spat water into the pool. No cars were parked anywhere.
We walked around the statue to reach the entrance to the farthest apartment. One of the women’s faces was lined with age, the other’s was round with youth, and one was somewhere in between.
“It’s the faces of the Goddess,” Freya explained, “the Virgin, the Mother, and the Wise Woman.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure what else to say. There wasn’t a lot of religious diversity in a town with one stoplight. At least, not that I’d been introduced to until now. Up until high school, I hadn’t even known anyone believed in anything other than God.
We walked to front of the tall, white doors that led into the apartment building. An awning perched above us, and a golden door knocker gleamed. I reached around Freya and opened the tall door. She stepped into the entryway. A bright, golden chandelier hung from an arched ceiling that was crafted from cedar beams. Our steps echoed on dark stone floors, which were similar to what the complex’s walls were built from. We faced a gold-paneled elevator. Hallways branched to our left and right.
Freya snapped her fingers. The elevator dinged and its door slid open. I followed her into the tight space. Freya’s hair was extra bright against the elevator’s shimmering, white walls. We traveled up four floors before we reached our destination.
“Let me do the talking,” Freya instructed and swept into the room.
I stepped out of the elevator. The suite had an open floor plan. A huge kitchen stocked with various herbs was to my right. Beyond that sat an expensive-looking, green velvet couch, a white fur rug, and a couple of black leather chairs that anywhere else, I would’ve loved to test out. Plants were spread throughout the space in pots of different sizes. They were some of the only pops of color. The white, cleanliness of it made my work jeans and tan Carhartt coat feel especially dirty.
To the right was a separate room, which I assumed was where the witch slept. She probably lurked there now.
“Josephine?” Freya said.
