Chapter 15: The Bar

I had never been so happy to see the inside of a bar. It had taken me all of five seconds to jam my gear into Carol and jump in the front seat, gun the engine and drive away. Thank goodness she was working, that she didn't give me a hard time.

Clearly she wasn't interested in seeing the naked people either.

I was still shivering from the grossness of it all, and uncomfortable from that odd declaration Zephira had made. She called me a witch? I thought that was her gig. Why did she make it sound so terrifying?

Drunk and stoned people. I'd never understand them and I'd been one far too often myself not to get their crazy logic wasn't for the sober.

"And that, children," I muttered to myself as I gunned the gas to put more distance between me and my memory, "is why we don't do drugs."

At least, not with the likes of Zephira.

When I entered the city limits, I stopped at the first bar I could find, parked Carol in a conveniently placed spot-thank you, parking fairies! At least someone was looking out for me

-and grabbed my purse, heading for salvation at the bottom of a beer bottle.

And no, the irony of that wasn't lost on me. Though hopefully I'd stop short of stripping and howling at the moon. Though, after the night I'd had, no promises.

I gratefully spotted a familiar face seated at the bar, remembering only then the handsome man who'd been my first encounter when Carol chose to quit on me day one. I crossed to Jack, sat next to him, happy to know my memory of him was about right, though he was even more attractive now than he had been that day.

I smiled at him despite knowing he had to see the discomfort written all over my face. I never was a good faker when it came to how I was feeling.

Before he could comment, his own smile of greeting turning down as he tilted his head, his concern clear, I spoke. "I can't believe I gave up a decent job to come here and waste my time on a fairytale perpetuated by grown women who should know better." Because this was on the Lovely Witches. Oh yes it was. Their fault, 100%. They'd driven me to this. And I would never let them live it down.

"And hello to you, too." His smile returned though concern remained.

Right. He had no idea what I was talking about. We barely shared two sentences when we first met. And here I was dumping my life on him. "Sorry. Hi. How are you?" God, I was such an idiot. I couldn't do anything right. "How about me, you ask? Well, let me tell you." My purse thudded on the top of the bar, this odd freedom I felt to spill all over him pushing me onward. "I'm pissed and dirty and need a beer." Maybe that would explain everything.

"I thought you said you left a crappy job with a guy you couldn't stand for a chance to do what you always loved and make money doing it." Jack gestured for the bartender to bring me a drink, bless his heart. He was a keeper.

"Technicalities." Wait, I never said anything of the sort to him. If anything, our brief meeting outside the coffee shop the day I arrived had been the limit of our interaction. It wasn't lost on me every time I saw him I was in the same rough state, coffee and puke interchanging in this instance. I shouldn't be so forthcoming with a stranger like this. Except that his face drew me in, the easy way he had about him and it was just so nice to see a familiar face. Still, how did he know anything about me? Where was he getting his information?

"You're not helping any, you know. And remind me how you know all this stuff about me?" "Vine and Piper told me." He said it like it was no big deal. But, hang on a second. I had seen him in Borden and now he was in Charlottetown... Sure, the Island wasn't that big, and those two locations were only about forty-five minutes from each other. Still. Was this guy stalking me?

Better question: did I care?

He seemed to realize I wasn't quite prepared for such intimacy with a total stranger, his face softening further. "And my mother may have mentioned you."

Vine and Piper, huh? And his mother, whatever. "So, you know these Lovely Witches then." Of course he did. He had to go and ruin everything, didn't he? And just when I was starting to like him. "Lovely freaking deluded freak shows. I think this film they want me to do is a load of crap." There, I said it. Crap. "They're trying to pull one over on me. Reeling me in, being nice, to convince me they are real. Witches are not real." Because any normal person wouldn't know that, I guess.

Wait, did that mean I wasn't normal anymore? Thinking I had to reassure others? And yet, saying it like that made it real and true, didn't it?

"So what happened tonight?" How could he be so calm at a time like this? Oh, right, because he hadn't gone through what I'd just gone through. He probably had a normal day. Lucky.

There was that kind smile again, the one that made me buttery soft on the inside and all tingly on the outside. "You don't want to know." He didn't. I didn't. I couldn't. Bletch.

What was a normal day again?

"Did the Lovely Witches try to turn you into a frog or something?"

Oh, ha ha. He was cute, but not that cute. Who was I kidding. He could tease me all he wanted.

"I was just assaulted by a pack of naked, hippy witch wannabes who are, if possible, even more frustrating than the first group." I would not think about the naked people. I would not think about the naked people. "The leader of whom puked on my shoes-twice-and then tried to lure me into her half-assed orgy of oh my god ew." And I was thinking about the naked people. Awesome.

Jack laughed. He was lucky he was adorable. "You met Zephira." Seriously? Did he know everyone? "You didn't let her touch you, did you? Might want to get a shot for that."

Yeah, he knew her all right. I shuddered. A good, old-fashioned full body shudder. And raised my hand for another beer.

Jack's handsome face didn't stop smiling, and neither did his eyes. That whole thing with Piper about anger and flashing and stuff? She wasn't alone. He had that same ability with his eyes. He could melt me with that gaze actually, turn me into a puddle. Make me forget I was pissed off. Well, briefly. Maybe he was a keeper. Or I was the deluded one. I barely knew this guy.

So why did it feel like I'd known him my whole life?

When he spoke again, he sounded a little sad, but mostly sincere. "There are all kinds in this world, Reese. There are the Zephira's who need to feel special because they're afraid. There's the frustrating, domineering ones-my mother." His lips twisted in a wry smirk, a far cry from his lovely smile, made me wonder what that story was about while reminding me I still didn't know how he was connected to the LWC. "She's in it for power and the chance to tell everyone what to do." He shook his head before meeting my eyes again. "Then there's the gifted ones. The ones who really can make a difference if they're given the chance." Why was he looking at me like that? And this was a rather deep conversation for our second meeting. But nothing about this entire trip had been ordinary, so fair enough.

Still, I needed to distract him from that disquieting expression that made me think he knew far more about me than he should. "Who's your mother?" Because that was really all I could respond to out of that entire statement that made me all quivery in my belly and feel like I'd done a horrible disservice to the lovely witches by being a willing witness-in the beginning-to Zephira's little witch orgy extravaganza.

"Constance Cooper." He said her name like it was no big deal and yet the worst possible outcome he could consider.

"Ah." There wasn't much else I could say about that. I already knew the Island coven leader hated me after all. But it did make sense why he was hanging around. He more than knew the Lovely Witches even. He was part of the cult.

Jack laughed. "She's your biggest fan," he said.

The second beer went down faster than the first. I set the bottle on the bar and did my best not to order another one immediately. I finally unwound, the tension running out of me while shock and adrenaline wore off and left me limp.

"You honestly believe in this stuff?" If he did, if he admitted to it, well. Maybe I'd give them a chance. Or him, at least.

"Thanks to my mother, I grew up with the covens." Totally matter of fact, not a bit of judgment in that statement. "While I don't agree with the way she runs things, how she took over from Lilith the way she did-before I was born, mind you, but I've spent enough time with Agnes I know the difference," whatever that meant, and whoever that was because no one would tell me anything about the mysteriously awesome and amazing Lilith to the point I was sick of hearing her name, "this is a small place. I've known all of them my whole life. And, for the most part, they are really awesome people."

Okay. I could agree with that. I thought they were awesome, too. Most of the time. And most of them, at least the ones I'd gotten to meet so far. Until I freaked out and lost my mind, which seemed to happen on a regular basis now that I was here on Prince Edward Island. Did that mean I was meant to stay here? That I fit right in with people like Zephira? Or that I really should take off for the hills and get my ass home again?

He finished while I pondered. "The point is, they care. They really do. About the Island and the people who live here."

I wasn't prepared to be feeling this badly about not taking them seriously. The way he said it made it sound like being a witch and part of a coven was actually a thing and not a delusional dress up make believe fantasy. And I wasn't sure I was very happy about that. So I struck back with the only weapon I had, or thought I did. "Does it ever piss you off you're not invited into the little girl's club because you have a penis?" After all, the witches I'd met had all been women. Save for the fakers Zephira had on tap.

Wait, did that mean in the quiet depths of my mind I didn't qualify the LWC as fakers anymore?

I needed another beer.

I must have been right. Deadpan, without taking even a second to consider his response, Jack said, "Who says I have a penis?"

My eyes instantly betrayed me. Dropped to his crotch. And we laughed as the last of my stress and anxiety and frustration and all those horrible things I'd been carrying around with me the last few days lifted off my shoulders while the beer-and the company-finally did the job.

"Agnes, Piper, Vine, all of them. They've been doing their best to try to keep things together. Your involvement means a lot to them. I know your belief in them would go even further..." He leaned forward, fingers reaching for my hand, didn't quite make contact. He eased back again as if he wasn't sure his touch was welcome. How little he knew. "They want so much for you to understand who they are."

Right. That's why they'd been so forthcoming. That grumbling thought fizzled out despite my attempt to stay annoyed. Instead, I latched onto the only ammunition I could find.

"Even Isabel and Constance?" Part of me wondered about lumping the historian witch in with her cranky leader, but they seemed peas in a pod the day at the studio, and Isobel refused to talk to me further, no matter how much I badgered her.

Jack's grin didn't falter, but turned wry. "Whether we like them or not. Whether we agree with how things are run or not." Jack stared down into his own beer and shook his head. "Listen, the bottom line is we're family. We have to stick together." I wished I knew what that felt like, suddenly bummed out and wondering if this was what bothered me so much about the Lovely Witches. Their sense of belonging, of togetherness. Even Zephira's crew were searching for something, hopefully more significant than booze and sex, but to each his or her own.

Me? I had no idea what that kind of belonging was about. Which made Jack's next question hurt more than it should have.

"So what about your family?"

He had to ask me that question. And in a way that hit me so I didn't have a quirky and fun response. I wasn't expecting it, so I couldn't attempt in my pathetic way to hide what I was feeling about it. I clutched reflexively at the empty beer bottle on the counter, floored by the fact he even brought that up while his ever present smile finally faded and I shrugged in response.

Knowing the dull tone of my voice did nothing to hide my hurt, I tried anyway. "Nonexistent. Parents dead, no siblings. No friends, really, either." I'd had that question in the past, but I'd always been able to laugh it off, at least on the surface. When I tried, it fell flat, but that didn't stop me from falling into old habits. "Wow, thanks for cheering me up."

Jack's deep voice held so much sympathy I considered punching him for making me want to cry. Because there was no way I was falling into his arms and sobbing on his shoulder. Not until I got to know him better. "You're welcome. And I'm sorry."

Insert awkward pause here. Where we both stared into our beers and tried not to say anything and tried to think of something to say, all without saying a word.

Naturally, it was Jack who broke the silence first. Because he clearly didn't live with the kind of graceless communication skills I suffered from. "Just don't give up on the LWC because of one naked crazy lady. They really need you."

I grinned, thankful for the change of conversation. "Crazy lady and her pack of wackadoodles."

Jack laughed. "Exactly."

I finally gestured to the bartender for another beer and had a thought. "Wait. Why do they need me? This documentary won't convince anyone of anything." And made absolutely no sense, so why was I really here?

"I've already said too much." And now he was keeping secrets from me, too. Perfect. "You're creeping me out." Hard to stay mad at him, though. He was much cuter than Piper or

Vine or any of the other witches.

"Ask yourself this." Seriousness suited him as much as his smile. "Do you really have anywhere better to be?"

Those eyes. Those lips. Hormonal betrayal sucked. And didn't.

"Okay. I'll stick it out. For the money and the chance to make a movie." And to get to know him better.

"Liar." Something twinkled deep in his eyes. "You just want to know if I have a penis." He had no idea.

***

The shadowy figure bent over the surface of the cauldron, her hooded features masked by the velvet and satin, but her anger apparent in the grasping hand that clutched the rim of the iron pot, surface swirling with the smiling face of Reese MacDonald.

She'd worked too hard, given up too much, to allow Lilith's heir to ruin everything. Time for the child to find out what a real witch was capable of.

***