Hunting Witches (13 page)

“Don’t overdo it,” Shelly warned. “I’ve gotta take stock tomorrow afternoon.”

“No worries, boss,” Gina said. “I’ve got enough aspirin in me to eat through my liver.”

“All right, then,” Shelly said. “I’m out! Off to get a decent dinner for once.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Gina smiled. She looked over Shelly’s shoulder towards the bar. “Hi, Sheriff!”

Graham waved, saying nothing.

Shelly took her apron off and stashed it behind the counter. She walked around the bar and stood in front of Graham. “How do I look?” she asked.

Graham gave her a once-over. “Like you just got off work.”

Shelly cupped her hand behind her ear. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, you look perfect.”

She held one arm out akimbo, and Graham placed his arm into the crook of hers. They walked out through the lobby, heads held high, like a proper couple.

Terry watched them leave from behind the desk.
Ain’t love grand,
he thought, before going back to watching gay porn on his phone.

***

It was a half hour drive to Bell Plains, give or take a few minutes, and by the time they hit town, Shelly was starving. Her stomach was rumbling so loudly, Graham could hear it over the music on the radio. After that big lunch at The Meal Worm, Graham was feeling okay, but he could eat some.

“Can we go somewhere that’s not a chain?” Shelly asked. “I want to try some place new.”

“Sure!” Graham said. “I’ve heard about a little place like that, and that’s where I figured we’d go. It should be just up here on the right.”

“Awesome,” Shelly said.

“Are you hungry, babe?” Graham asked.

Shelly’s stomach rumbled again. It sounded like whale song. “I could eat,” she nonchalantly said, looking out the window.

The restaurant used to be a pancake house, and was constructed like one. There was a definite wagon wheel motif in the woodwork. The new owners hadn’t torn down the old sign outside, only painted over it. The name of the place,
L’uomo Verde
, had been stenciled over a still visible wooden syrup pitcher and pat of butter.

Shelly looked at Graham, one corner of her mouth turned down. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “Looks like the International House of Pasta.”

“I’ve heard good things,” Graham said, shutting off the car. “I’m willing if you are.”

“This better be good, Sheriff,” she said.

“The parking lot is full,” he noted. “That’s a good sign.”

Shelly shrugged. Graham gently took her hand and they entered the restaurant.

***

Just as she feared, the interior looked like a log cabin. But it smelled like heaven. Tomatoes and garlic, oregano and basil, cheese and wine; whatever it was, it sure seemed a damn sight better than the frozen dinner she had waiting for her at home.

“My taxpayer dollars go towards your salary, right?” Shelly asked.

Graham nodded.

“Good,” Shelly said. “I’m about to take a chunk of it back.”

The food bordered on expensive, and the wine crossed that line. It was worth it to Graham, though, just to see the look on Shelly’s face as she enjoyed every bite of it. It was like being served a gourmet meal inside a tent. With food that good, though, there was no reason to complain about the décor.

“Oh my god, Graham,” she said, “this is amazing. Holy shit. Did you try the lasagna? Try the lasagna.”

“That’s okay,” Graham said. “You enjoy it.”

“Open your fucking mouth, and let me feed you a bite of lasagna, like we are two people who like each other on a fancy date in the big city,” Shelly said, smiling the whole time.

“Lasagna sounds great,” Graham said, and he opened his mouth. Shelly scooped some lasagna onto her fork and gently tapped Graham’s tongue with it. He closed his mouth. She pulled the fork out. Graham chewed and swallowed.

“It’s good,” he said.

“It’s divine,” she said. She took another bite, blotted her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of wine. “So. This is a thing now.”

“What is?”

“This is our place. Our special place no one else knows about. Special occasions and stuff should take place here.”

Graham shrugged. “Cool,” he said.

“Cool?” Shelly said, weighing the word as she spoke it. “Cool. That’s
cool.
Hmmm.”

Warning bells went off in Graham’s head. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” Shelly said. “It’s
cool.
”

Graham folded his hands atop the table and waited. “I’ve missed something here, and it’s obvious you’re upset about it. Is there any chance I can get you to simply tell me what I missed instead of you making me guess?”

Shelly drained her wine glass, then she pulled the half-full bottle to her, clutching it in one hand like a candle. She focused on the wall, avoiding Graham’s earnest gaze. Even through the new paint job, she could still see the outline of an old cactus appliqué on the wall, a ghost from the place’s previous incarnation. Because when you’re in the desert, the first thing on your mind is how to get your hands on some fucking flapjacks.

“You’re not good at this relationship thing, are you, Graham?” Shelly asked.

“Never really had one before,” Graham answered. “It’s been a learn-as-you-go sort of thing.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” she said. “Well, let me help you out with something. When a woman – in this case, me – tells you that something or somewhere or some date is important, the proper response is not, ‘cool.’ It needs to be something a little more inspired than that, more enthusiastic.”

Graham nodded. “I understand.”

“And you know what? This laconic lawman bullshit you keep throwing at me? It needs to stop. I want a relationship, Graham, and I don’t want it with your fucking badge. I know there’s a real person behind there because I’ve seen glimpses of him. He’s wonderful. I… I really like him. But if you want to keep me, then you need to quit this Dirty Harry shit. You talk to me. Be real with me.”

Graham stared intently at the table, letting Shelly’s words sink in. Shelly took a swig of wine from the bottle, then another. These were simple requests she had made, certainly not deal-breakers. Were they? She grew nervous then, wondering if she had pushed too hard, too soon.

The silence stretched. Shelly watched him stare at the table while she sucked the bottle of wine dry. As soon as it was empty, she wished for another one. His shoulders moved up and down with each deep breath. His neck vein was showing, and she was strangely frightened by its pulsing. Had she made him angry? Holy shit, this had gone all wrong.

Before he could look up, Shelly caught the attention of their server. She held up her empty wine bottle, pointed to it and made a desperate, plaintive face. The server smiled and nodded, indicating that he would be back in just a moment.

“There are reasons,” Graham said. Then he went back to staring at the table.

“Uh, was that the entire sentence, or is there more to it?”

Graham cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “There are reasons why I am guarded around you, Shelly. You’re not dating a normal guy, or one of your customers. I’m the Sheriff. I see, hear and do shit that a civilian does not and cannot know about. If you ask me how my day went, and all I say is ‘fine,’ then you’re going to have to drop it. You need to leave it at that.”

“I understand that, Sheriff,” she said. “And yes, that will drive me nuts, but I’m talking about your feelings, Graham. Your emotions.”

“So am I, Shelly,” Graham said. “I enjoy being a police officer. It is in my nature to protect people. I do it for strangers. I do it for assholes I don’t like. Imagine how much more I’m going to do it for people I care about.”

The server quietly put another open bottle of wine on the table within Shelly’s reach and shuffled away.

“Shelly, there are things I am never going to be able to tell you. Doors you’re not going to be able to open. And it will be for your own good, but you’re not always going to see it that way.” He leaned forward and touched her cheek. “So this is up to you. I’m not trying to make rules. I don’t want to set harsh boundaries. This is just the way things are for me. The way things have to be.”

Graham grabbed the bottle of wine away from Shelly and took a long pull.

“Also,” Graham said, “you may see and hear some weird shit. And you could be in danger, simply by virtue of being with me.”

“Okay,” Shelly said.

“There’s a large part of me that wants to tell you to fuck off, because I know if you leave, you’ll be safe.”

Shelly hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she exhaled. “So, this is it, then.”

“I’m not finished,” Graham said. He slid the bottle of wine back to Shelly.

“So? Finish.”

“There’s a larger part of me that thinks if you stay with me, that I can protect you. Keep you safe.”

“Yeah? Well, I was taking care of myself long before you came around, hot shot. I don’t need you to keep me safe.” She took another pull of wine from the bottle.

“I know,” he said. “I know that. But I think maybe I like having you around. I think I enjoy being with you. It’s been a long time since anyone has made me blush.”

“Is that what you think?” Shelly asked. “You think that? Well, it is cute. Your ears get all red. And you’re
so
easy.”

Graham smiled. It wasn’t a huge grin, but just enough to let Shelly know she could relax.

“I was hoping maybe we could be an official couple,” he said. “I’m not really sure what that entails, but, you know. Officially dating. Exclusively. You and me.”

“What, you wanna go together?” Shelly asked.

“That sounds perfect,” Graham said. “Just like fourth grade. We’ll go together. We’ll be a Thing.”

“A Thing? Really?”

“Yeah! And people ask if you and I are a Thing, we’ll say yes. Yes, we are a Thing. We are a Thing, we have a Thing, there are Things going on.”

Shelly batted her eyelashes. “I do love it when you get all romantic, you and your Things.”

“Does that clear things up?” Graham asked, taking back the wine bottle and drinking some.

“Crystal,” Shelly said.

“Do you think you can be happy with the way things are with the Thing?”

Shelly nodded. “For now,” she said.

“That’s fair,” Graham said.

“If I had known the night was going to end like this, I would have put on prettier underwear,” Shelly said.

“Me, too,” Graham said. “I’ve got this mesh thing I like to wear. Makes my balls look like a screen door.”

“Wear those to work, do ya?”

“Only if I have meetings that morning,” Graham said, laughing. “They increase my confidence level.”

“How many bottles of wine have we had?” Shelly asked.

“I don’t remember,” Graham said. “So that’s probably too much. We should get a room. Hang out here tonight. Maybe get one with a hot tub.”

“Oh, baby,” Shelly said. “Does your back hurt?”

Graham smirked. “Not yet. But you might need a walker by the time we’re finished.”

***

It was two-thirty in the morning. Graham had been successful in his quest for a hot tub room, and he was glad. He had pulled something in his back during the evening’s festivities. It was nothing serious, but enough to where the heat and pulsation of the jets felt amazing.

Shelly sat across from him in the hot water, thousand-yard stare in full effect, gently rubbing her foot against his ankle. “If this Thing involves things like this on a regular basis, then this may be the best Thing ever,” she said.

“I’m sure things can be arranged,” Graham mumbled.

“You know what’s going to be awesome about tonight?” Shelly asked. “Sleeping together in a bed that I don’t have to make the next day. No sheets to wash, no razors to throw away.”

“I said I was sorry about your cute little pink razors.”

She scooted over next to him and worked her head into the crook of his shoulder. “I don’t care about the razors,” she said. “They’re disposable. You’re not.”

“Come one, babe,” Graham whispered. “Let’s get some sleep. I still gotta work tomorrow.”

“Can you be… late?” Shelly asked.

He chuckled. “I think so. I’m the Sheriff of Elder’s Keep, baby. I gotta have some perks.”

***

The night smelled like fire and dead leaves covered the empty street. He felt a hand on his shoulder: he turned and no one was there. The whispering came from his other side – who was that? He knew the voice, but couldn’t place it – telling him again, “Three are coming.” The blacktop under his feet began to crack, pushing him off balance. He began to fall, through the street, through layers of crumbling red clay and dirt. He grabbed at the sides of the hole he was falling through, but there was nowhere to make purchase, no roots to grab. Just the act of falling, the soil landing in his eyes and mouth, filling his throat, making it impossible for him to scream and when…