The Witch's Familiars_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Page 5

  "Look, I saw the cat," Darren said quickly, evidently aware that he was running out of time. "I don't know how he's okay and I don't believe for a second it's because of your herbal—“ he paused as if searching for the right word, “things. Still, when I saw him there wasn't a scratch on him, so I figured I should at least hear you out."

  "Who says I want to be heard by you?” Jordan challenged, struggling to hold onto her clutch while she slipped her jacket on as she walked toward the front door.

  Darren followed her and took her jacket before she could protest, holding it so she could slip her arm through the other sleeve. "Just give me half an hour of your time, that's all I'm asking."

  "I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I have to decline," Jordan said, flipping her hair out of her collar. "Goodnight, Dr. St. Clair."

  "That's fine," Darren said in a tone that made it clear he wasn't used to hearing the word “no” once, let alone three times in a row. His hand pressed against the door to hold it shut, but he made it look like he was just casually leaning there. His entire demeanor changed as he stared down at her. “But let me say one more thing before you go. Chase Wilde is not the kind of guy you want to be getting involved with."

  Jordan narrowed her eyes. "I don't think I like the idea of a stranger telling me what to do, Dr. St. Clair. Care to back that order up with an explanation?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Here's your explanation. The rumors about him make the rumors about you look like second grade gossip. I've known Chase my entire life and he definitely has a type. You're it, and where he's concerned, being 'it' is never a good thing."

  "You've done enough digging into my past that you should know I don't put much stock in rumors, or the people who spread them," Jordan said coldly, missing the last button on her coat in her haste to get out the door. She sprinted down the steps and almost made it before her shoe caught on the second-to-last one and sent her hurtling forward.

  A lean man in a black suit caught her, saving her a face-first meet-and-greet with the pavement. Strong, elegant hands rested on her shoulders to keep her steady. Jordan looked up into a pair of vivid golden eyes framed by messy brown hair. The man was beautiful in the same androgynous sort of way Hermes was, and he cut a dashing silhouette in his dark suit.

  "Careful, princess," the stranger said in a husky voice, his eyes dancing with amusement as she gestured toward Jordan's car, which was already parked and running in the circular drive. "Your carriage will wait for you."

  Jordan blinked. “I don’t remember giving my keys to the valet.”

  "No?" Something about the surprise in his voice didn't seem quite genuine. "The staff has been all over the place tonight. My apologies."

  "You're staff?" Jordan asked doubtfully, looking the man up and down. “You look a lot like the mayor."

  The fake valet laughed, leaning on Jordan's door. "You caught me. Max Danbridge, at your service. I’m Henry’s nephew. I was hoping I could at least fool an outsider."

  "You know who I am?"

  "Let's see, you're the only person here I'm not related to or whose kids I didn't go to school with. It's a safe bet that you're the troublemaker everyone is talking about," Max said with a lopsided grin. "They left out some important details, though. Namely how cute you are."

  Jordan's face grew warm and she wasn't quite sure what to do with the compliment. Before she had the chance to formulate a reply, Max asked, "What were you running from, anyway? My aunts can be a bit chatty, but they're not that bad."

  "No, it wasn't them at all," Jordan murmured. "It was Dr. St. Clair."

  A look of surprise passed over Max’s face and he laughed. "Oh, let me guess. He tried to apologize for being an asshole at the diner and made it worse?"

  "How'd you know?"

  "I'm the one who told him to apologize," Max said with a wink.

  "You're friends?" Jordan asked, unable to hide her surprise. They didn’t seem like the types who’d get along.

  "Yep. Darren’s a complete idiot, but he's a good guy. Just a little rough around the edges.”

  “You can say that again,” Jordan muttered.

  The front door opened and a stout woman appeared, shouting, “Max!”

  Max cringed. "And that would be my mother. Probably wants me to make another Merlot run," he grumbled. “It was nice to meet you, Jordan. I work at the post office in town, so come see me if you need any help forwarding your mail.”

  "Thanks, I will," Jordan said, slipping inside her car as Max opened the door. She rolled down the window and the self-appointed valet leaned in.

  "Be careful around here, Jordan," Max said, growing serious. "Cold Creek's a pasture of sheep, but it's got its fair share of wolves."

  Jordan nodded, too confused by the cryptic comment to reply. Max patted the top of his car and dashed up the stairs. As Jordan pulled out onto the road, the strange man continued to play a heavy role in her thoughts. In all her years in the South, Jordan had never quite met anyone like Max Danbridge.

  Or Chase Wilde, for that matter. As enigmatic as Cold Creek and its varied residents were shaping up to be, at least there was one familiar figure among the rest. Darren St. Clair might’ve been a staunch atheist, but he was just a new variation on the same men she had known her entire life. Loud, self-righteous and--no matter how much Max or Cindy seemed to like him--not to be trusted for a moment.

  Six

  Jordan yawned and rolled out of bed to turn off the blaring rock music station that served as her alarm. Def Leppard wasn't her favorite, but it certainly woke her up.

  When she saw the blinking message light, her heart skipped. Cindy. The party had been more than a week ago and Cindy hadn't returned any of her calls. Jordan had taken her silence as a sign that the mayor's wife was understandably upset about her guest leaving so abruptly. Especially since she had a bad feeling the evening had been intended as her coming out party.

  "Jordan, it's Cindy," the message began. "I just got your message from the other night. I've been swamped this week with all the prep for the Autumn Equinox Festival. Look, Chase filled me in on what happened at the diner and I just wanted to apologize. I never would’ve tried to set you up with Darren if I'd known what an ass he'd been. Let's get coffee soon and catch up. I'm free pretty much any day except Wednesday, so let me know. We need to talk about some…" The message broke off for a moment before she continued hastily with, "some things. Take care!"

  Jordan's chest sank in relief. So Cindy wasn't angry after all. As pushy as the socialite was, Jordan had already taken a liking to her. In some ways, she reminded her of her own aunt Linda, but she—like so many of the memories Jordan had left behind in Arkansas—seemed to be from a lifetime ago.

  Jordan jumped into the shower and pulled on her robe before going to check on her plants. She lovingly watered each one and gathered some clippings that she sealed away in labeled plastic bags to tend to later. After logging some growth changes to send to her biggest client, she cast a brief glance at the empty space on the railing the long gone tincture had once occupied. She hadn't been to town since the party, mostly because she was afraid of running into Darren St. Clair again, but Jenna and her grandfather were often on her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if the older man was feeling the effects of the tincture yet.

  Jordan frowned when she noticed some dark spots on the leaves of her holly. It was just a small plant, but it had been with her the longest and she had grown attached to it even more than the others. She had already broken far more important rules, so she passed her hand over the blotched areas and smiled in satisfaction when the bruised flesh turned green and vibrant once again.

  "You're not going anywhere, little one," Jordan said, giving an affectionate caress to a newly hardy leaf. "You and me are in this together."

  Returning inside, Jordan picked up the phone and dialed Cindy's number again. It went straight to voicemail, so she left a message suggesting the following night as a good time to meet. She placed the phone bac
k in its cradle, but not before caressing the smooth, almost gel-like buttons. "Everything is so different out here," she murmured, recalling the cold, hard rotary of the one phone in the house her entire family had shared.

  When the phone lit up and blared its siren, she fumbled to keep it in her hands. Still startled, she glanced at the unfamiliar number on the display before answering. "Hello?"

  "Is this Jordan?" It was a vaguely familiar male voice, but she couldn't quite identify the speaker.

  "Yes, who's this?" she asked, steadying her nerves and her voice.

  "It's Darren."

  "Dr. St. Clair?" She frowned. "How did you get this number?"

  "It's a landline. You're listed in the town directory."

  "Oh."

  "Listen, I'm calling because the rumors about you are starting to get out of hand in town and I really think we should talk."

  "You say that like you're not the one who started those rumors."

  "I told you the other night I was sor --"

  A sharp beep cut into the call and Jordan nearly dropped the phone. "Hang on a second, I think someone is calling in."

  "Jordan, wait --"

  She pressed the answer button before he could finish and only felt a little guilty for cutting him off. "Hello, Cindy?"

  "Hello, miss," said a smooth, unfamiliar male voice. "Do you have a moment to take a brief survey?"

  "Oh," she said, trying to mask her disappointment. "I guess so. Did you get this number out of the town directory?"

  "Thanks, miss," the voice continued, as if reading from a script that tolerated no deviation. "Would you say you're happy with your current phone provider?"

  "Um, I think so. I've only had it for a little while, though."

  "I see, and your life?"

  She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

  "Your life, Ms. Hurlow," the caller clarified. "Would you say you're satisfied with the way your life has turned out?"

  Jordan's spine stiffened and goosebumps rose up on her arms at the sound of her former name. "Who is this?"

  "And all the people who died in Arkansas because of you," he continued, "including your mother and brother, what about them? Would you say they're happy with the decisions you've made in your life?"

  Jordan stared at the phone like it was going to bite her. "You're working for Hermes, aren't you? That awful man with the white hair and the strange eyes? Or did my father hire you?"

  "Less than three months left," the caller announced before the line went dead. Jordan’s hands trembled with nervous rage as she set the phone back down.

  It had to be a prank call. That didn't explain how he knew things no one else possibly could have known, and that ultimatum certainly pointed to Hermes, but she didn't want to believe that a cat was harassing her by phone. Even if she did believe it, who was she going to call? The police would just drive her to the nearest asylum if she explained what was going on.

  Taking a deep breath, Jordan vowed to ignore it since she had little other recourse. She did, however, dress quickly so she could head into town. The first stop on her to-do list was the post office. Sure enough, Max was there leaning on the counter, reading a book with a title Jordan couldn't quite read. The clerk sniffed and looked up sharply before a lazy grin of recognition transformed his austere features.

  "I was wondering when you were gonna pay me a visit."

  "I haven't really needed to until now," Jordan said, holding up a small package of seedlings for one of her clients. "It's nice to see you again."

  "Likewise," said Max, taking the package. He glanced at the mailing label. "Texas, huh?"

  "I sell all sorts of things online,” said Jordan. "I'm sure you're going to get sick of me before long."

  "I doubt that.”

  Jordan cleared her throat. "I was hoping you could check and see if some other packages came in for me. I changed my address and everything, but they still haven't come."

  "Missing packages, huh?" Max disappeared behind a wall of mailboxes. While he was gone, Jordan took a peek at the book. The Metamorphosis seemed like heavy reading for someone so laid-back. He returned a moment later with the two parcels under his arm.

  "Looks like night shift didn't load them onto the truck. Hope they weren't important."

  "Just some gardening books. It's no big deal," said Jordan.

  "Green thumb, huh?" Max asked, leaning on the counter again.

  "Yeah, it's kind of been a hobby ever since I can remember," Jordan said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Hopefully Max hadn't heard about her other hobbies. "Seemed like a natural fit to turn it into a job."

  "That's cool. I can't keep anything alive," Max said with a dry laugh. "Black thumb."

  "Everyone has different gifts," said Jordan. "What do you like to do? Besides masquerading as a valet."

  Max smirked. "I work on cars. Old ones. Sometimes I race, too, but Aunt Cindy doesn't need to know that."

  "She would probably pass out," Jordan agreed, smiling. "She's been so kind to me ever since I came into town."

  "Yeah, she's like that. She's always been my favorite aunt."

  "You must have a big family."

  "Very big." Max rolled his eyes. For a moment, Jordan was worried Max was going to ask about her family. Instead, he moved on to a different topic. "Have you talked to Darren yet?"

  "Only for a second," Jordan said guiltily. "I've kind of been avoiding him, to tell the truth. I know it's awfully petty of me."

  "Nah, let him sweat a little," Max said with a wink. "He's cool, but if that stick goes any further up his ass he'll choke on it. He could use a good lesson."

  Jordan pursed her lips and tried not to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Just don't let him intimidate you. He's all bark and no bite." Max paused. "Unless you're Chase Wilde, that is."

  "Yeah, I could tell. Darren looked like he was ready to punch him at the party."

  "Damn, I would've paid to see that."

  “Chase doesn't seem so bad," she said hesitantly.

  Max snorted. "He seems like a mannequin. Trust me, you're better off staying away from the guy. At least with Darren what you see is what you get."

  "I'd be kind of a hypocrite if I avoided someone just because of rumors."

  "It's not that. It's --" Max cut himself off and seemed to be considering whether he wanted to say something or not. Jordan had her misgivings about anything someone like Max would feel the need to censor. "Something is just off about him."

  "Like what?" Jordan asked, a bit uneasily.

  "I don't know, aside from the hearsay," Max admitted. "But I know my gut’s never been wrong. Good instincts kinda run in the family."

  "Well, thank you for the warning," Jordan said, taking it more seriously than she had Darren's. At least Max didn't seem to have a vendetta against Chase. Jordan reached across the counter for her packages. "I'd better get going."

  "I'm off work in a minute. Want me to carry those home for you?"

  Jordan blinked in surprise at the offer. "That's nice of you, but I'm actually heading to the market," she said, slipping the packages into one of the reusable bags she had brought for produce. "They're not that heavy."

  "Yeah, of course," Max said with a stiff laugh. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Jordan."

  "You, too," she said, waving at the clerk before she left. Maybe Darren was just an exception. Cold Creek's other residents were shaping up to be almost too friendly, if anything.

  The market square came into view and Jordan took a deep breath. Being around large crowds of people was not something she usually enjoyed, but it felt safer than being alone. Talking with Max had been a nice distraction, but the market was only open so late. After the phone call she had received earlier, Jordan was thinking about chatting up the perpetually salty Mrs. Herrin just for an excuse not to have to go back to her apartment right away.

  The market was a bit further than the town square, but it was a nice day so she decided to walk. Armed with a pai
r of canvas bags for her planned purchases, she did her best to ignore the strange looks she was getting. The town gossip was a trivial but welcome distraction from threats of the supernatural persuasion.

  The closer Jordan got to the market, the more stares she received. A few were glares and most just were curious glances, but it was the smattering of awe-filled gazes that disturbed her. As she made it to the edge of the crowded market space, she quickly realized that there was no brushing the attention she was getting away as mere self-consciousness. The crowds all but parted as Jordan walked down the row of vendor booths.

  Furtive whispers abounded, and although it was difficult to make out more than a stray word here or there, those stray words told a story Jordan wasn't all too keen on.

  "Jenna's grandfather."

  "Cured."

  "Miracle."

  She gulped and tried to focus on selecting a small bushel of golden apples from one of the less-crowded vendors. She wasn't particularly fond of apples, but it was something to occupy herself with.

  The pockmarked teenager behind the booth gawked at her as she tried to offer him a ten-dollar bill for the bushel.

  "It's free," he said.

  "That's very nice of you, but I can't just take these. Please --"

  He pushed her hand away. "Nah, keep your money. Just remember this if Stacey Pikman ever asks you to put a hex on me."

  Jordan stared at him in bewilderment for a moment before his words sank in. "I've never cursed anyone in my life. Look, I know everyone has seen those tabloids by now, but--"

  "It's not the tabloids," he said quickly. "Everyone knows what you did for Stu Herbert. He used to be really sharp until he got sick and started forgetting all kinds of things. Now he's in the diner, reciting everyone's birthdays and names. Stuff even I couldn't remember, and I've lived in this town my whole life. It's like he's better than he was before."

  Jordan's heart quickened in fear. So Jenna had spilled the beans. Well, she was a teenage girl whose only living relative had just been miraculously healed. Jordan couldn't really blame her for talking, but that certainly meant her life in Cold Creek was about to get a lot more difficult. If Darren had wanted to run her out of town before, she could only imagine what he would do now.