The Faye's Secret: A Keepers of Light novel Read online

  Casting a glance out of the large picture window, main street Buern smiled back at him. The tiny mom-and-pop grocery store sat across the street, the only place in town to grab milk or that toilet paper that never made it on the list for the city. An old-time movie theater, with an old marquis sign above the doors, sat beside Ella’s Clothing Boutique. In a red brick building rested the only bank in town. And a little further down the road was a Bed & Breakfast. With blue siding, white trim, and the white picket fence around the yard, it was the best place to stay. Although Wesley didn’t think it got much tourist business outside of summer.The facades hadn’t changed much since the town was built back in the mid-1800’s. Or so Alex — Wesley’s adopted father — liked to tell him. With a small population, it was the perfect place for a solitary pack of werewolves to call home.

  Listening to Mrs. Canry, he took one last glance up and down the street. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But then a woman with fire red hair got out of a used Camry and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He had never seen her before, and everyone in Buern knew everyone.

  Her clean skinny jeans and nice-looking purple sweater made him think she was from the city. No one in Buern ever had jeans that spotless. Watching her glance up and down the street, he couldn’t help but feel something was different about her. But he couldn’t place the feeling. She started walking across the street, headed right for the Magic Muffin where he sat, then stopped.

  Right in the middle of the damn road.

  He had never been so thankful main street Buern wasn’t a busy thoroughfare. What was she doing? Her body had gone completely still and her eyes were wide, staring down the road at... nothing. He was about to excuse himself and run into the road to get the crazy woman, but then someone else got her moving for him. A gray truck coming down the road stopped behind her and honked.

  The woman jumped a few feet off the ground, before saying something to Jim in the truck. It wasn’t until she ran to the sidewalk in front of the cafe, that Wesley noticed how unnaturally pale she looked. He watched, mesmerized, as she took a deep breath and pushed the door open and entered the cafe.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up then, too. Adrenaline surged through his veins. Everything stopped around him. The chatter in the cafe died down to a low murmur. People seemed to be moving in slow motion, and his chest felt like it was being constricted of air. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, dumbfounded and staring, before Mrs. Canry’s voice finally broke through.

  “Dear, are you certain you’re alright?”

  His eyes focused back on her old and gentle face sitting across from him. He tried to remember if he had said anything to her while he was captivated by the strange woman. But he didn’t remember saying a word. The concern was etched into every line on her face, so Wesley quickly assured her with one of his known-to-be-brilliant smiles. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Canry, my mind is elsewhere.”

  He glanced over the old woman’s shoulder. The strange new woman was ordering a drink at the counter. He tried to shake the feeling that went all the way to his bones. It was like he stuck his finger into a light socket and every nerve in his body was on fire. Alex would probably say he was acting like an overly hormonal teenager. But it took every ounce of his willpower to not go talk to her. He watched as she tossed her long hair over one shoulder, smiling at Bethany behind the counter.

  It was then that her scent hit him; lilac, wet dirt, and the distinct tang of magic. How he hadn’t smelt it the moment she had walked into the building was frustrating.

  Magic. She smelled like magic.

  His curiosity got the better of him as he focused on drowning out any voices that didn’t belong to the woman or Bethany. He needed to know why she was in Buern. It took a moment for the voices to reach his ears, like a fog diluting the sound, but then he heard it — her voice. It was soft and sweet but he could hear adrenaline in the shake of her words, too. Whatever happened on the road must have scared her.

  “What are you doing all the way up here? You’re lucky the snow hasn’t started to fly yet.”

  The woman chuckled, a musical sound to Wesley’s ears, “I know, it’s been a strange fall.” There was a pause, the woman took a deep breath, “Actually, I’m looking for someone...someone who died. They’re...they might be family, but I don’t really know. My research has led me here.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Well, you could try the library for death records but maybe the easiest place to look first is the cemetery. It’s right outside of town. Do you know this person’s name?”

  “Wesley, child, you look pale. Are you certain you’re alright?”

  His attention snapped back to the woman across from him, concern was even more prominent on her face. Clearing his throat, he smiled as best he could. But half his mind was focused on the woman at the counter. “We’re going to do all we can, Mrs. Canry. I give you my word. We’ll do everything we can to find Jessie.” He took her hands in his, his hands looking giant against her small frail ones, and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  Her eyes immediately warmed, and she squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Wesley. That means the world to me and her mother. Other people in this town may not believe anymore, but we do.” Her kind hands squeezed his own, “Just take care of yourself too, alright? Get some rest. Don’t run yourself into the ground because of all of this.”

  Chuckling, Wesley drew his hands back and nodded solemnly. “I promise, Mrs. Canry. I’ll take a nap as soon as I can.” As soon as he figured out why there was a new witch in town.

  The Canry’s were the only family of witches in the state, as far as the pack knew — which apparently wasn’t correct information. The Canry’s weren’t very powerful by any means, but most Faye-descendants weren’t anymore. Wesley didn’t know Jessie all that well, but they had conversed on more than one occasion. She was a few years younger than him and was a sweet – and intelligent – girl. She had just started her senior year in high school. Jessie was the third witchling to disappear in the last year and half. She had been visiting her sister in the city when she was kidnapped, right off the street with her sister beside her.

  It was then that the pack was asked by the State Alpha to investigate the murders. Alex had been working for Isaac Nielsen on and off for a few hundred years. There was no way one werewolf could control an entire State, so each smaller pack had their Alpha. Alex was the Alpha in Buern and Wesley answered to him, just like Alex answered to Isaac. It was a solid hierarchy and a necessary one. Easier to keep track of werewolves if they all had an Alpha in direct contact with them. But with witches being murdered, Isaac needed all the help he could get to find the culprit. Wesley and the rest of his pack, were going to do their best to find Jessie before she ended up dead like the other two girls.

  He nodded his head at the old woman, and rose from his seat, setting a twenty on the table before she could argue. He couldn’t help himself, he had to take one last look at the young woman, but she was gone. She must have walked out after getting her coffee, and he hadn’t even realized. He made his way to the door, waving at Bethany as the door chimed. He needed to pay better attention. He had been too consumed by his emotions. Too focused on a strange woman with auburn hair. Alex would be annoyed with him, if he ever found out.

  He contemplated not telling Alex about it. But the girl smelled like a magic, and they couldn’t ignore that. It was possible she had recently been in contact with a witch or magic user, but that wasn’t likely. The scent had been too strong. With witches going missing, this one could be the next victim. Or could be searching for a suitable candidate. And why was she searching for a dead person?He had to try and find out more about her.

  Wesley stood on the sidewalk outside the cafe, the pink and brown awning above his head offering shade. Across the street, the woman climbed into her car. With one eye on the car, Wesley walked the few feet to his truck and climbed in, adjusting the rear-view mirror to keep an eye on her. He was beginning to feel lik
e a creep, stalking some strange girl. But he still couldn’t shake the weird feeling in his bones. And she had smelt like magic.

  He had to talk to her.

  Her car began to back out of her parking space. He watched for a moment as she pulled onto the road and began to head north, out of town and further into the National Forest. He gave it a few seconds before he started his truck and followed.

  The small cemetery outside of town had been there long before Wesley had been born. It had probably been there for as long as Alex had been in Buern, and that was a while. Before the first stone had been placed in the ground however, the land was an Indian burial ground. It was sacred for a lot of people on the mountain, not just to those in town. A witch looking for sacred ground wouldn’t have been all that surprising, but Wesley got the distinct feeling this woman didn’t really know what she was looking for.

  She wandered aimlessly amongst the gravestones, hair flying wildly in the wind like flames caught in a fireplace. She stopped every once in a while to take a look at a name etched into stone, occasionally resting her hand on the grave markers, before continuing on.

  Wesley watched her from the cab of his truck for a few minutes, before deciding he might as well get out and speak to her. There was no way he could return home to say he had seen a witch in Buern and have no answers on who she was or why she was there. As he climbed out of the truck, he grabbed his cell phone from where it had been sitting on the passenger seat in case he needed to call Alex. One could never tell these days if a witch was friend or foe. Not like a cell phone would be much help. But the weight of it felt comforting in his jean pocket.

  He was ten or so feet away from her when he could sense it — spirits. Not all werewolves had an affinity for sensing the dead, but Wesley had been able to for as long as he could remember. Alex suspected it was because Wesley’s own mother died bringing him into the world. Whatever the reason, it kept him away from sacred places like this. He may not have been able to see or hear them, but sensing their presence was enough to make his hackles rise.

  The chill in the air didn’t concern him today — the spirits of this land were harmless to anyone who wasn’t there to cause them any harm. But the way the girl in front of him stopped in her tracks, every muscle in her body taught, made him more alert. Maybe this witch was here to cause trouble after all.

  The closer he got to her, the stronger the feeling in his chest became. He had almost forgotten about it, as he followed her out of town. But now it was back and made it hard to breathe. It felt like something was pulling him towards her. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to stop walking if he tried. His concern grew as ten feet turned to six and then less. She hadn’t turned around to see who walked up behind her. But she must have heard someone walking across the dry grass. It was deadly silent in the cemetery, she should’ve heard him.

  Trying not to startle her, Wesley approached slowly, going around her in a large circle, coming into her peripheral vision a few feet away. “Excuse me? Are you alright?” She made no movement, no acknowledgment someone was there. He walked towards her then, his hands up in front of him to make it obvious he didn’t mean her any harm. But under his skin his muscles were taught, ready to leap out of the way if this witch meant him harm.

  Coming around to stand in front of her, a good six feet still between them, Wesley saw her lips moving. He couldn’t hear her saying anything and his wolf ears were darn good. She mustn’t have been speaking out loud. Inching his way closer, hands still raised in front of him, his caution quickly morphed into concern. Her eyes were white, a foggy haze over the irises that must have been a dazzling green when clear. “Excuse me? Can you hear me? I don’t mean you any harm…”

  “Buern. Faye.”

  Her voice startled him more than he wanted to admit. His brows pulled tight in confusion, “I’m sorry, what was that? What did you say?”

  The woman stood perfectly still, her chest barely rising with her breaths. The closer he got the more concerned he grew. Her lips were turning blue.

  “Buern. Faye.”

  What was this witch doing? He had never seen one channel the dead like this before and he was fairly certain that was what she was doing. And her words, they didn’t make sense. Buern wasn’t exactly known by the Faye, although the veil to their world was thin further up the mountain. What was this ghost trying to say? And why did it need this witch to say it?

  “I don’t understand what you need, you have to be clearer.” And quicker, he thought. The woman’s face was getting paler by the second. But no more words came out of her mouth. Her blue lips parted slightly, Wesley could hear the quick and shallow breaths passing them.

  Wesley’s concern quickly morphed into something close to panic, which wasn’t an emotion he was used to feeling. Alex taught him to always have a cool head, to always stay in control of his emotions. But his own heart beat rapid in his chest. His wolf half, so usually content to lay quiet under his skin, clawed to be released, to protect this woman. Without any thought, he reached out a hand and laid his palm on her small shoulder.

  The moment he touched her, a gasp escaped her lips before her eyes rolled back into her head. He caught her just shy of her head cracking on a gravestone.

  Chapter Three

  ❖

  Abby

  “Remind me again why you brought her here?”

  “It seemed like my only option!”

  Male voices filtered through the fog in her brain, but she didn’t know who they belonged to. Her lids weighed a hundred pounds, she couldn’t get them to open. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was arriving in the cemetery outside of town. And who were the people talking around her? Was she in a hospital?

  “Wesley, if she really is a –.”

  “You know she is. You can smell it on her as well as I can.”

  Smell what on her? She hadn’t taken a shower that morning, but there was no way she smelled bad. She needed to get up, but when she tried to move, her body wasn’t listening. Her limbs were heavy and thick; her eyes refused to open.

  “Alex, I’ve never met a witch with this kind of power signature. But I know you have. I know you can sense it too...if her magic smells this strongly, she has to be –.”

  “Enough, Wesley. I know very well what this could mean.”

  Witch? Whoa, what the hell was going on? Who were these people? Where the hell was she? Movement on her right turned to pressure on the bed beside her leg. Someone sat down. A moment later she felt a damp cloth rest on her forehead.

  “Would you two shut up?” That was a female voice, “The poor girl is trying to wake-up, but you two blabber mouths are being too loud to notice.”

  Slowly, squinting in the dim room, Abby’s eyes finally listened to her. A teenage girl with long blonde hair sat beside her, calming brown eyes looked at her. Her face was rounder than Abby’s, as if her body was still holding onto childhood. The damp cloth she felt on her forehead moments before was sitting limp in the girl’s hand.

  “Hi, my name is Tori. How are you feeling?” She smiled warmly, setting the damp cloth on the nightstand beside the bed. Half expecting a doctor twice her age to be looking down at her, Tori’s kind face was a bit of a shock. Squeezing her eyes tight, trying to clear them of the remaining fog, Abby shook her head.

  “Uh,” Abby lifted a hand to her head — man did it hurt. She had enough migraines in the last few weeks to know when one was imminent. Great, just what she needed. She tried clearing her throat, her tongue feeling as heavy as her body did. “Okay...head hurts.”

  Tori looked concerned, her brows pinched tight. Picking up a small glass of water, she reached forward and helped Abby sit up enough to take a small sip. “Here, this might help.” She turned her head away from Abby, “I thought you said you caught her before she hit her head.”

  “I did! If you just blacked out, I’d bet you’d have a headache too!” The man standing by the end of the bed, arms crossed, looked vaguely familia
r. He had dark scruffy hair, a little curly here and there. Tanned skin contrasted against the red flannel shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up. He was too far away for her to see his face clearly.

  “Both of you, enough. Wesley, keep your voice down.”

  Abby leaned back into the fluffy pillows while the voices filled the room. Looking past Tori, Abby noticed another man standing off to the side of the bed, this one older than the first. He had short cut chocolate brown hair and a strong jawline. There was an aura of authority about him, in the way his thick arms were folded over his broad chest. But when Abby looked higher she found kind green eyes, a softer color than her own.

  The younger man, Wesley, didn’t take his eyes off her.

  Well, she definitely wasn’t in a hospital. Wood covered walls surrounded her, a painting of the mountains hung behind Wesley’s head. It looked like someone’s bedroom, complete with a low dresser against the far wall and a closet on the other. She put her arms underneath her, trying to sit up and failing miserably. Her muscles had no strength in them. It felt like that time she had gotten the flu when she was twelve and had spent days on the couch unable to move.

  Tori’s head spun back around and she put an arm around Abby’s shoulders, helping her to lean up against the wood headboard. The older man came around the other side of the bed, an extra pillow in his hands. He put it behind Abby’s head as Tori helped her lean away from the headboard briefly.

  “There we go, that will be a bit more comfortable than wood behind your head, I’d say.” The man gave her a gentle smile, his forest green eyes bright in the dim room. He didn’t look to be over thirty years old, if that. But something in the small wrinkles on his temples, and the way he held his head, told Abby he had seen a lot.

  Abby took a breath, clearing her throat one more time, before trying to speak again. “Where- where am I?” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears. Her brain was waking up and she really wanted to know where she was.