The Witch's Familiars: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Harem of Babylon Book 1) Read online

Jordan sighed. If it made Mrs. Herrin feel safer, she could hardly argue. Not after everything the landlady had done for her. "Well, thank you."

  "You can wait on the porch," said Mrs. Herrin, pointing to the screened-in room on the side of the house. "I'll leave some blankets on the swing."

  "Great, I'll come over tonight," said Darren. And just like that, it was settled. Mrs. Herrin and Darren discussed some town matters for a few minutes. Darren wanted her advice on a patient since she had grown up around horses. Her non-professional opinion was that Peter Smith's horse was schizophrenic and could probably be ridden again with the proper medication. Before long, the conversation turned back to Jordan's ruined plants.

  "Can I help?" asked Darren.

  "No, we're pretty much finished," said Mrs. Herrin.

  "Yeah, all I have to do is run to the hardware store for some more pots," said Jordan.

  "I should get back to the clinic then," Darren said, glancing at his watch. "I'll be back this evening, so if you hear anything it's probably just me."

  Mrs. Herrin waved and wandered back into the house, leaving Jordan and Darren alone. She crossed her arms and waited awkwardly, newly embarrassed that she hadn't changed her clothes yet.

  He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I really am sorry about last night."

  "You don't have anything to apologize for," Jordan said with a laugh. “It's not your fault I'm a lightweight."

  "I just wanted you to know I don't make a habit of inviting women over to my apartment to drink. Or inviting women over period. Not that I invite men over either, it's just --"

  "I get it," she said, interrupting to put him out of his misery. "You don't have to explain; I can tell you're not like that."

  "Ah, right. Intuition?"

  She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "No, it's not that."

  He arched an eyebrow. "So what does your intuition tell you about me?"

  "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  "You say that like it's a good thing."

  "I think it is," she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear as the wind tried to carry it off. "It's refreshing."

  A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah," he said, "you took the words right out of my mouth."

  Nine

  Jordan fell asleep much easier that night knowing that Darren was keeping watch downstairs, even if she was sure she’d have to turn over her proud independent witch card if she ever admitted it. Not that the good doctor needed any help in the ego department. Despite the ease with which rest came, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

  Nearly every night, it was more of the same. That awful basement room, ages spent cowering and hiding in the closet that had been her entire world for more of her life than she liked to think about. The magic hadn’t been in her control back then. It was something only her father seemed able to control, and he wielded her like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Whenever he was done using her for his stage shows masquerading as holy services, he’d put her back in that awful, dark box to languish until the next time.

  The fact that she’d escaped from that box a long time ago and was now free of his influence did nothing to keep the dreams at bay. Every morning, the sensation of near-suffocation and claustrophobic panic woke her from her fitful sleep and it took a few minutes to remind herself that she was living her own life thousands of miles away from the minister and that awful attic room.

  Showering did little to erase the ghostly essence of stale attic air from her skin, so Jordan got dressed and decided to run some errands before she got started on processing her latest online orders.

  Going into town after her unpleasant encounter with Hank had to happen eventually. Darren had kept his promise to keep watch downstairs the night before, but there hadn’t been any more strange sightings or overturned plants. Jordan knew that the longer she stayed isolated, the more the gossip about her would flourish.

  She had spent long enough hiding. Maybe she had messed up by helping Stu Herbert, but she wasn’t willing to throw in the towel and give up on her new start just yet. She told herself it didn’t have anything to do with Darren St. Clair and by the time she’d finished her shopping, she almost believed it.

  “Jordan,” called a pleasant voice from the other side of the aisle.

  Chase’s friendly face appeared a moment later and Jordan noticed he was carrying a basket of the kind of food only people who drank from recyclable water bottles and ate inordinate amounts of kale seemed to eat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “It’s a small town,” she laughed. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around sooner.”

  “Well, I do split my time between here and New York,” he said, still smiling. Didn’t the man’s face ever get tired?

  “New York?” she asked, surprised. “That’s a hike.”

  “It is, but I do a lot of consulting work there.”

  “Yeah. I can imagine there’s not a full-time caseload in a town this size.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” he said dryly. He watched her and Jordan couldn’t help but wonder at the suspicion in his gaze. Given the way everyone talked about him, Chase was the one she had reason to be wary of.

  Not that she liked entertaining the suspicions of gossips. She’d been their favorite topic often enough. “How’ve you been?”

  “Well, thanks.” His brows furrowed in concern. “I hope you’re doing alright. I heard about what happened the other night with Hank Thomas.”

  “Oh, that. It was nothing,” she said, hoping that the more readily she dismissed it, the sooner everyone else would shut up about it. Hank was far from her favorite person, but controversy led to press and getting back on her father’s radar was the very last thing she wanted.

  “It didn’t sound like nothing.” His frown deepened and his voice grew stiffer. “I heard Darren came to the rescue.”

  Now Jordan was the one frowning. “I wouldn’t put it like that. I’m not really in the business of being rescued, but he kept the situation from escalating.”

  “Of course. Forgive me.” His tone gentled and Jordan found herself questioning how easily the man shifted his emotions. “In any case, I’m glad you’re alright. I’d hate to see such an uncharacteristic blemish on our town chase you away.”

  “I’m not planning on going anywhere,” Jordan assured him. It wasn’t quite the truth. If she had any sense, she’d be on her way to Boston already, but Cold Creek had a charm she didn’t want to name. Mostly because she had a bad feeling that name was Darren. St. Clair.

  “That’s good to hear.” He looked down at the groceries in her basket. “If you’d like some company, I could carry those home for you.”

  Jordan blinked. What was with the men in this town? Anyone who thought chivalry was dead hadn’t been to Cold Creek. It was charming in a vaguely creepy way. Then again, so was Chase. “Don’t you have your own stuff to carry?”

  “I drove, and it’ll keep fine in the car.”

  “Well…sure.” Turning him down seemed unnecessarily rude and she was admittedly curious about the man who cut such a controversial figure. Back when she’d had nothing but disdain for Darren, that controversy had seemed like a point in his favor, but now…

  After going through the checkout, Jordan followed Chase outside and squinted at the sunlight. She did a double take just to make sure the man didn’t hiss and shrink away. If he was a vampire, that would certainly explain a lot.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is.” Okay, so not a vampire. Pod person was still definitely on the table, though. “So, can I ask what the appeal of Cold Creek is if New York is an option?”

  This time, his smile struck Jordan as rueful. “Let’s just say this town sinks its claws into you. I’m sure you’ll see what I mean.”

  “I thought it would be a shame if I left.”

  He glanced down at her, chuckling as he placed his groceries in a shiny red sports car with the top down and reached for hers. “You could
say I have two minds on the subject.”

  Jordan got the feeling he had two minds period, but she smiled politely and let him take her things. “Thanks. And I guess I know the feeling. As glad as I was to get away from my hometown, there’s part of me that still misses the area.”

  “Home is a funny thing, isn’t it?” he asked in a wistful tone. “It shapes you, for better or for worse, but no matter how far you are, it never really leaves you.”

  “That’s true,” Jordan murmured, watching him closely. “Do you have family in the area?”

  “Yes,” he said, shifting back into a pleasant tone, much to Jordan’s relief. “My parents don’t live too far away, and I’ve got a couple of aunts and uncles around.”

  “That’s nice. It seems like a pretty close knit community.”

  “Oh, it certainly is that. I imagine you’ve already met the Danbridges who’ve infiltrated every level of local government.”

  Jordan laughed, but she got the feeling he was only half-kidding. “I’ve noticed. I guess with Henry being the mayor it makes sense.”

  “Oh, it goes back further than that. Being the mayor is practically a family legacy,” he said wryly. “He and Cindy didn’t have any children of their own, so I’m sure one of the nephews is next in line.”

  “Can’t really picture Max as mayor,” Jordan admitted. Drag racing and politics didn’t exactly mix.

  “No,” Chase mused. “He’s of a different breed, that’s for certain.”

  “What does that mean?” Jordan asked. Everything Chase said seemed to have a double meaning.

  “Nothing. Don’t listen to me, I’m just another brand of cynic,” he said with a glimmer in his eyes as they stopped in front of the house. Jordan was worried he’d end up inviting himself in, and while she was enjoying the walk more than she’d imagined, she had work to catch up on and whether she liked it or not, Darren’s suspicion was rubbing off on her. To her relief, he handed the groceries back. “It was lovely to see you again, Jordan. It’s a rare person who can make a sunny afternoon even brighter.”

  Jordan couldn’t help but smile. He was so cheesy she felt her cholesterol spike, but he was so unapologetic about it that it came off as sincere. “Same to you, Chase. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “Don’t be a stranger,” he called, watching from the curb as she went into the house. Jordan watched him leave, shaking her head. Maybe he wasn’t a stranger anymore, but Chase Wilde certainly was strange.

  Mrs. Herrin’s door opened and the woman peered out with narrowed eyes. “Is that fruitcake gone?”

  “Mrs. Herrin!”

  The older woman gave the air a dismissive swat. “I’m telling you, that whole family gives me the creeps.”

  “Why?” Jordan asked. “Everyone seems quick to talk about how much they dislike him, but no one ever comes out and says why.”

  Julia huffed. “That’s because no one’s in a hurry to get sued. Just mind yourself around that one.” She gave Jordan a disapproving once over. “I’d think you had your hands full with Darren.”

  Jordan groaned. “Darren and I are just friends, Mrs. Herrin.”

  “Mhm,” the landlady said, smacking her lips in disbelief before she popped back into her apartment. “Heard that one before.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes and carried her groceries up the stairs. She couldn’t shake the wariness her landlady’s comments had instilled in her, though. Not one but three people had separately warned her about Chase now, and the only thing Darren, Julia and Max seemed to have in common was their disdain for the mild-mannered attorney. It wasn’t the likelihood of him being dangerous that shook her. Jordan knew better than anyone that the most sinister monsters masqueraded as beings of light, but could her own instincts really be that far off?

  Sure, Chase was strange, but he didn’t set off any of the red flags she’d learned to feel for over the years. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but there was something about him that felt familiar. Usually, that would have been all the more reason to be wary of him, but he felt safe in the same strange way Darren did. A way that she couldn’t explain anymore than she could shake it.

  Jordan put her groceries away and got started on the next batch of tinctures and salves she had to send out, deciding to focus on more practical things. In time, hopefully the incident with Hank would blow over. If Cold Creek had anything going for it, it was the fact that it held secrets that seemed far more interesting than anything Jordan feared would be dredged up from her past.

  Ten

  By the time the second evening of Darren's night watch came around, all of Jordan's surviving plants had been lovingly replanted and placed on the floor of the balcony. She leaned on the railing and pulled a blanket around her shoulders as the cool night air left her feeling chilly in her pajamas and wet hair. A dark truck pulled into the gravel lot, the first vehicle besides her own that she had seen make the trek down the little country road that led to the house. It was a nice if modest pickup and it came to a stop in the lot next to her car. A moment later, Darren got out.

  Jordan leaned further over the balcony, watching him. He carried himself the exact same way even when he didn't think anyone was around. There was always a serious look on his face, always purpose in his step.

  "Are the atheists sending people door to door now?" she called.

  Darren looked up, momentarily startled before his serious expression split into a grin. "Just here for my shift.”

  She smiled down at him. "I opened your care package."

  "Oh yeah?" He put his hands in his pockets and leaned back to look up at her. "So, what'd you think?"

  "It was... unique," she said. "Chicken soup, tomato juice, aspirin and an old mix tape of Handel?"

  "Vivaldi gets all the credit, but if you ask me, Handel is the Baroque composer of choice for hangovers," Darren said with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

  Jordan laughed. "Care for some company?"

  Darren pretended to consider it for a moment, scratching the scruff that had formed on his chin since she had last seen him. "I had planned on catching up on my needlepoint, but I guess company would be okay."

  Jordan rolled her eyes before heading down the fire escape. She jolted a little when strong hands grabbed her soft waist to help her down the small gap between the stairs and the floor.

  "You've got your own private entrance, I see."

  "I use it when I don't want to wake Mrs. Herrin," she replied, turning to face him only to realize they were a bit too close. She stepped back and felt a blush creep its way into her cheeks. It happened a bit too often for her liking when Darren was around. Hopefully the moon wasn't bright enough for him to notice or he might get the wrong idea.

  "Your landlady has taken a liking to you," he said. "She really read me the riot act the other night."

  "Sorry about that," Jordan mumbled, letting him in through the porch door. They settled in around the pillow and knitted blankets Mrs. Herrin had left for him on the porch swing. "So, are you really planning on spending the night out here again? Nothing happened last night."

  He shrugged. "I'll still feel better if I do."

  So would Jordan, but she decided not to admit it. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept as well as she had the night before, knowing he was just downstairs. "Well, that's nice of you. I really think it was just an animal, though."

  "Hope so." He clearly didn't think so, but he didn't argue. The silence that fell between them gave way to the crickets and the faint sound of the creek flowing not far into the forest.

  “Chase Wilde announced your engagement the other day," he said, breaking the silence.

  "What?" Jordan asked, whipping her head around so fast she felt something pop in her neck.

  Darren laughed. "Okay, so that was a little hyperbolic, but your reaction was priceless."

  "Not funny," she grumbled, pulling her thin blanket tighter around her.

  Darren unfolded one of the knitted quilts and d
raped it over her shoulders. "Sorry. Just thought you should know he has his eyes set on you."

  "Well, he can set them elsewhere," she said with a sigh. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend or anything else."

  "You'd probably be the first woman in Cold Creek to turn him down, despite his reputation," he admitted. "I haven't seen him take a real interest in anyone since high school."

  "As flattered as I am, I'd have to decline all the same."

  "He's not your type?"

  She hesitated. "It's not that. I'm not even sure I have a type."

  "Then what? If you don't mind me asking," he added quickly.

  Jordan shrugged. "Even if I was interested, I'm not sure if I'd be good at the whole relationship thing."

  "Not sure?" He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm sure you had your pick of the guys back in Arkansas." He hesitated. "Or the girls…?"

  Jordan shook her head with a small smile. "I was pretty sheltered. Dating wasn’t an option back home.”

  Darren frowned. "What are you talking about?”

  “My parents were…conservative, to put it conservatively. I’ve got way too much baggage to even think about a relationship," she said, deciding that the safest course of action was to change the subject.

  "Right. From your mysterious past.”

  Jordan waited for him to ask the question that had to be on his mind. When he didn’t, she said, “You must be curious.”

  "Of course I am."

  "Then why haven't you pressed the issue? You certainly could have taken the opportunity to interrogate me while I was drunk and I know you're not above digging into people's pasts."

  He shrugged. "That was before I got to know you. I figure if your past was bad enough to have it sealed away under court order, the least I can do is respect your privacy."

  Jordan let his words sink in for a moment. "Thank you."

  "Don't mention it," he said, falling silent once again. Time spent in silence with Darren passed more swiftly than a day full of people and distractions. As the hour grew later, the night grew louder and Jordan found herself leaning back against the porch swing, only vaguely aware of the vet's arm draped behind her.