Burned (Keeper of the Flame) (4 page)

“Thanks.”

He entwines his fingers with mine and brings
the back of my hand to his lips. “Let’s explore.”

He guides us to a hallway and the noise
around us fades out.

“Are we allowed to walk around like this?” I
ask.

“Sure. This is a big place for the tourists
with the history and all. The founding family was discovered
murdered here and their ghosts are still hanging out.”

The lights are dim and we stroll past a few
rooms with numbers scrolled next to the doors. The carpet is quiet
under our feet and I feel a draft from somewhere.

I shiver and Logan puts his arm around me.
“Cold?”

“Just a draft.”

He pauses and glances around, looking
mischievous. “I hear there are secret passages all over this place.
Supposedly the founding family was made up of witches.”

My gaze whips to his. “Witches?”

He leans his shoulder against the wood
paneling on the wall. “Is that something that might be interesting
for your research?”

“Definitely.” I lean against the wall as
well, and then straighten when I feel another draft right by my
shoulder.

“What is it?”

I peer closer at the wall, looking for gaps
or holes. “I felt cold air.”

Logan presses both hands against the wall,
leaning in. “Secret passage,” he says, grinning at me.

I lean in as well.

Willow…

My breath catches. I turn around, scanning
the hallway. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“A voice.”

He frowns. “No.”

I step close to the wall again and the sound
of whispering fills my ears.
Willow, we need your help…

Pressing my ear against the wall, I hold my
breath and listen.

Willow…

The wall shifts. I gasp, stumbling back.
Logan catches my arm and pulls me next to him.

“You’re right,” I whisper. “There’s something
behind the wall.”

Logan glances both ways down the hall, gives
a shrug. “Let’s check it out.”

I’m ready to protest, but I’m as curious as
he is. He presses his hands against the wall again and pushes. The
panel moves and darkness yawns before us.

He leans in as I feel a breath of cool air
brush my cheeks. I try to peer in next to him, but it’s so dark I
can’t see beyond a few feet.

“I can’t see anything,” he says.

Logan starts digging in his pocket, probably
for a lighter, and I duck my head into the passageway again.

Willow…

I swallow, feeling drawn to the darkness. The
voice calls again.
Willow…

I sway, my body moving into the yawning hole.
It’s like a gust of wind pushes me inside, and I stumble, going
down on one knee.

And then the panel closes behind me with a
final thud.

My breath shudders out in the darkness and I
get to my feet, trying to find the wall with my hand.

“Willow!” Logan’s voice is muted on the other
side of the wall, his fists hitting the panel repeatedly. “Are you
okay?”

The whispers return.

Willow…

I whip around, my eyes racing back and forth
without being able to see anything. There’s only a sliver of light
where the panel separates from the wall.

Willow…Keeper of the Flame…

The flame? My chest heaves with sharp
breaths. “Who’s there?”

Family
.

The voice continues to whisper, echoing in
the dark space.

“Willow?” Logan calls again.

I turn to the panel, pressing my palms flat
against it. “Logan?”

“Willow, I can’t‒I’m trying to get this open
and I can’t figure it out. Push from your side.”

I push against the panel, shoving it first,
and then pounding with the heels of my hands.

“Logan!” When I hear the whispering again and
something like cold breath touches my neck, I start yelling. “Open
the panel! Get me out of here!”

“I’m trying.” I hear a shuffle and then he
says, “I’m going to get something to pry it open.”

My hands are already sore from the scrapes
this afternoon, but I’m afraid to stop banging. The voice whispers
behind me again, and I’m worried something’s going to brush my bare
leg or grab me.

Willow. He’s not who you think he is.

I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to
stand up to the faceless voice. “Who?”

Find yourself, and don’t trust him.

“Him who?” I ask, putting strength into my
voice.

There’s the sound of something wedging into
the panel behind me. I hear Logan curse and something falls on the
ground. I push the panel and this time it pops open easily.

When I stumble out, Logan catches my
shoulders. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

“I don’t‒I don’t know. I heard whispering.” I
glance back to the panel. “Like someone was in there.”

He cups my cheeks between his hands. “Willow.
Focus. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

His eyes are black in the dim lighting,
locked onto mine. “What did you hear? You said you thought someone
was in there.”

“I…” The words from the whisper come back to
me,
Don’t trust him
.

But it can’t be Logan who I shouldn’t trust.
Maybe it’s Ryan because he wants me to leave. And he stole my
mother’s Book of Shadows, which I need more than ever now since I’m
apparently communicating with ghosts.

There were other words before that, though.
He’s not who you think he is.

“Come on,” Logan says. He closes the panel,
and I’m surprised no one has come by to see us. “Let’s get out of
here.”

When we near the lobby again, it’s brighter
and there are people everywhere. I’m still shivering from the cold
inside the wall, and my palms are stinging.

“I think I want to go,” I tell Logan.

He glances to the dining room entrance,
looking torn. “You’re not hungry?”

I shake my head.

“You need a drink.” He flashes a smile and
caresses my shoulder with one hand. “And something to warm you
up.”

That gets a chuckle from me. “Are you
volunteering?”

“I’m at your service.”

And it’s pretty tempting. I can tell he’s
disappointed we’re not staying for dinner. His jaw is set, and
though his eyes are soft, he’s hesitating.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

I nod.

“Really?”

“I think I just need a hot shower and a warm
bed,” I tell him, turning to the exit.

He clasps my hand in his. “I can
definitely
help with that.”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. But I
meant back at my room.”

We walk to his car again, and the air is
still warm, making me feel better. Making me look at the whispers
and what just happened from a logical point of view.

“I think I need to come back,” I say.

He lifts his eyebrows and opens my door for
me. “Yeah? That fast, huh?”

I smile. “Not tonight. But soon. There’s
clearly something there.”

“Are you going to tell me what?”

“Ghosts?” I bite my lip, leaning against the
side of the car. “Something trying to speak to me.”

His jaw shifts.

“You can call me crazy and take me home if
you want.”

His gaze connects with mine again. “I don’t
think you’re crazy. I believe you. What were the ghosts trying to
say?”

I debate what to tell him. I don’t understand
most of it anyway. “They told me to find myself.”

“What does that mean?”

I can guess. And that guess would be that I
think they want me to discover my witch roots. But I can’t tell
Logan that. He’s already had to deal with me running from the
library like a mad woman and communing with the dead. Oh yeah, and
my awkward fainting episode in the bar.

“I don’t know,” I tell him.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, and then
opens the door wider. I get in, wondering what he’s thinking. But
instead of telling me, he starts the car and drives us from the
hotel. He’s quiet on the way back until we reach my motel.

When I get out, he walks with me.

“I can make it to my room fine,” I say.

He pockets his hands. “I’ll walk you.”

“Trying to prolong the date a little
more?”

“Something like that.”

At my door, he rocks on his heels at the
precipice. “I’d feel better staying with you a while. Just to make
sure you’re okay.”

I lean against the door frame with a smile.
“Ghost hunting is in the job description.”

“But is encountering them part of that job,
too? Because that sure as hell looked like what happened tonight. I
couldn’t get that panel open. It moved so easily for you and then
in an instant, you were trapped. And now you want to go back.”

“Tenacity is a good trait in my field.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t like it.”

I reach out, pressing my palm against his
cheek. “That’s nice of you to be concerned.”

Logan grips my wrist, heat flashing in his
gaze. He leans in, just a breath away from kissing me. His eyes
find mine, black holes I’m already drowning in. “You sure you don’t
want me to come in?”

Yes
. The word is on the tip of my
tongue. But I can’t get it out. I
do
want him to come in. So
bad I ache.

His free hand slides down to my waist,
pulling me closer. “Just a few minutes,” he whispers.

The room phone rings, and I break away. I
give a short laugh. “Sorry, I have to get this.”

I don’t know who’d be calling me on the room
phone, but I answer it anyway. I see Logan fold his arms, still
waiting outside the door.

“Hello?” No one answers. “Hello?”

I hear a click on the other end.

“Wrong number?” Logan asks.

I replace the phone and walk to the door
again. I blow out a breath and take off my heels. “I guess. I think
I’m going to take that shower I talked about. Wind down.”

He drops his chin, then nods. “Sure.”

“Thanks for this evening. I’m sorry it didn’t
work out.”

Logan steps away from the door. “I get it. We
should try again another time.”

“We should.”

Leaning outside the door, I peer up into the
dimming sky and find the moon. “It’ll be full in two days.”

He follows my gaze. A smile curves his lips.
“You follow the phases of the moon?”

“Sometimes. There’s a lot about me that
doesn’t fit your typical mold.”

“I’ve noticed. Which is why I think I should
take my time to get to know you.”

“Is that what you think?”

Logan strolls toward me again, several inches
taller now that I’ve lost my shoes. “It doesn’t stop me from
wanting to get to know you faster.”

He hauls me against him, capturing my mouth.
I rise to the tips of my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. I
run my fingers through his hair and arch my back when he trails
kisses along my jaw. His breath is hot and it lingers at the hollow
of my throat.

His fingers dig into my hips, reaching down
to curl under the short hem of my dress. I fumble to catch his
hand.

It feels too much like the last time. And the
last time things hadn’t ended well for either of us.

“Logan,” I breathe.

His arms vice around me, our bodies flush
against each other. He makes a noise low in his throat. “I’m
pretending I can’t hear you.”

I laugh and give his chest a gentle shove.
When he eases back, I point a finger at him. “You just…” I catch my
breath. “You better keep your distance if that’s what’s going to
happen every time I’m around you.”

“That’s no fun,” he says, reaching for me
again.

I swat his hand. “There’s a time and place
for fun.”

He backs up. “Okay, you’re right. A time and
place. Not outside your motel room. Not standing by my car outside
a haunted hotel.”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

“You sure?” I ask.

He nods, folding his hands behind his back.
“You’re interesting, Willow.”

“You’re interesting, too. And still not
leaving.”

He laughs and starts walking. “All right. I’m
going. Sleep well.”

I close the door once he disappears down the
stairs and slump against the other side. Sleep well? Not
likely.

Last time I’d been kissed, we’d been in a
college dorm room and a thousand “no’s” hadn’t made him stop. I’d
done the only thing I could, lashed out with fire. It had been
instinct, really, because I had no idea what I was doing.

One minute he was on top of me and the next
his arms were on fire.

I can’t control it, it controls me. I was
hoping my mother could help, but now I have no idea where she is
and only one source for answers.

Ryan.

~ ~ ~

I plan on marching right up to his door,
banging on it until he opens up, and demanding answers. But when I
pull into his drive, his truck isn’t there. The windows are dim and
the porch light isn’t on.

How am I supposed to talk to him now?

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I
debate on whether or not I want to add breaking and entering to my
record. I kind of think I want to. After all, he started it. At
least, I’m pretty sure he did.

Pulling out of his drive quickly, I park next
door at my mom’s house, far back by the side of the house so that
if Ryan does come home, he won’t see the car right away.

I grab a flashlight from the glove
compartment and tuck it into my pocket.

After Logan left, I changed into the clothes
I probably should have been wearing when I took a dive headfirst
into the secret tunnel in the haunted hotel. My jeans are dark and
tucked into combat boots. My dark tank is covered by a black hoodie
and I’ve pulled my hair up into a haphazard bun.

Stepping out of the car, I look around and
listen for noises. I hear nothing. I run around the hedge and jog
up the steps to Ryan’s door. I decide to knock for good measure.
Just in case. No one’s home.