Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (3 page)

Best case, I've just been handed the literal key to a new home, a new life.

Worst case, I get to this house and decide I don't want it. I could even sell it. Right, if I don't like what I find, all I lost was some time. And it isn't as if staying here is even an option anymore.

Rising, cracking my back, I gave a slow nod. “Alright. Give me a minute, and I'll gather up what I need. It shouldn't take me long.”

He blinked, clearly incredulous over my change of heart. “You mean it? You're ready to just uproot and go after all? Not that I mind, but don't you need to let someone know you're moving out? A note, a quick word?”

Smiling bitterly, I grabbed a backpack off the handle on my closet. “Would you believe I was actually
looking
for an exit strategy shortly before you arrived?”

T
he night (or was it technically morning?) air was muggy. Even in fall, the South was quick to make you feel like you'd just hopped out of the shower. Which, really, I wished I'd actually done.

I'd thrown on clean jeans and a comfortable green blouse, but my hair still felt like it needed to be scrubbed. With only a few hours of sleep in me, my skin sticky from humidity, I should have been sulking.

Strange, but I'm sort of excited.
This situation was out of a movie. Things like this happened to important people, something I'd never considered myself to be.

Strolling beside Grault towards the train station, I tied my messy hair back in a new, tighter ponytail. The sky above was turning the color of ink mixed with blueberries. “I have another question for you.”

“I imagine you still have a few,” he mumbled, his attention fixed on the distance. “Go on, then.”

Adjusting my backpack, I hurried to keep up with the his long strides. He was clearly still in a hurry. “How did you find me?”

“Tessa found you.”

“Well, how did
she
find me.”
And why not years ago, when I needed family the most?
“It's not like my address was listed in the yellow pages.”

He didn't slow, those hard eyes flicking down at me. “Your mother really didn't tell you anything.”

The glimmer of remorse that entered his ebony eyes put me off guard. “Ex—excuse me? Hold on, that's really not something you should be allowed to say.” The pulsing in my chest was like an infected wound. “My mother told me many things, none of which should be any of your concern.”

Grault's thin lips turned down at the corners. He went back to staring ahead, guiding us along the silent road towards the station. “You asked the question, Miss Blooms.”

“About my grandmother, not my mother.”

“And my answer has everything to do with your mother.”

Ahead of us, through the hazy blue of early morning, I saw the large station. We both squinted at it, Grault speeding up. I still didn't know why he was so obsessed. “Alright. So she found me because of my mother. What did she do, contact her from beyond the grave to get my mailing address?”

I meant it to be funny. Grault's lack of reaction, his stony glance, chilled me. “Not exactly.”

We were climbing the tall steps to the front doors, everything lit by gentle yellow lamps. Gripping the railing, I stopped. It took Grault a second to notice, or to decide to copy me. “Care to expand on that?” I asked.

“Forgive me, I think that came across wrong. I didn't mean to imply your mother contacted Tessa after death. Or vice versa.”

Sighing loudly, amazed at my rush of relief, I finished climbing up the steps. “Good, because when you say that kind of stuff, you sound a little crazy.”

“Crazy.” Blinking thoughtfully, he continued towards the wide glass doors. I saw movement inside, was surprised the station operated so early. “What I meant was there is, and always has been, a connection between your mother and Tessa. And, of course,” he mused, pushing the door open so I could step through, “that means between
you
and Tessa.”

I was half-way through, standing beneath his extended arm. There, freezing in the threshold, I rolled my gaze up and sent him an incredulous look. “Grault?”

“Yes?”

“You're not doing a great job at convincing me you
aren't
crazy. Just a heads up.” Hoisting my backpack, I crossed into the quiet building.

He followed beside me, hands back in his pockets. “I'm not being crazy, Miss Blooms. Your connection to Tessa through your bloodline was well known to her.”

“Mmhm, mmhm,” I mused, slowing as we approached the stairs that led to the train platforms. “Convenient. So why didn't she send me something sooner, reach out, if she always 'knew' where I was?”

My tone seeped with sour distaste, yet Grault eyed me rather... sadly. “Tessa told me she wanted to fulfill your mother's wish.” Standing on the platform, a place empty save for a single wandering guard, Grault looked down on me grimly. “Gina wanted nothing to do with her mother, and she didn't want you to be involved either.”

In the distance, I heard a train rumbling down the tracks. It felt incredibly far away. “What? What are you saying? Why would my mother want to keep me away from
her
own mother?”

“And that,” he sighed, “is why I commented on her not telling you anything.” Lifting his chin, he peered out at the tracks. We were partially exposed, the building open on one side where the trains would arrive. “It's almost time. Here, take this.” His fingers vanished into a jacket pocket, revealing a paper ticket.

I was having trouble focusing, my mind awash with a sense that I didn't actually understand what was going on.
He bought this before visiting me. He really thought I'd come along.
“Wait,” I mumbled, taking the train ticket in my numb grip. “Slow down. My mother didn't want me to know my grandmother? I don't—why would she...”

Grault pointed, seconds before the train came shooting down the tracks. The kick-back of air it brought tossed my hair, ignoring that I'd tied it up. “Go, get on. I'll tell you more later.”

“No,” I said, shouting over the creak of metal, the whistle of the engine. But Grault was pushing me, guiding me towards the open doors in the side of the black and red machine. “Wait! I want to know more, will you tell me when we sit down, at least? It's going to be a decently long ride, right?”

His smile was gentle, it was the first time I'd seen him make such a face. “I'll talk with you when you get to the house.”

The back of my neck tingled. “You're not coming with me, are you?” In my palm, the single ticket felt heavy. “Wait, Grault, what the hell is going on?”

“A lot of things. Now, take the train all the way to Barrow Village, from there Tessa's house—your house, I suppose—is walkable. Trust me, Miss Blooms, I'll explain more later.” Pausing, he considered his next words. “We'll have plenty of time to talk once you settle in.”

More people were arriving, though the platform was still sparse. Outside, the rising hour of morning made everything feel mystical, blue light dancing and drawing out shadows. The sun had yet to show. “Grault,” I said, standing firmly in the train entrance. “Tell me why my mother hid Tessa from me, or I'll get off this train right now.”

His jaw firmed, making we wonder if he understood how serious I was. Honestly, even I wasn't sure. We stood there, eyeing each other as the train attendants shouted, encouraging people to hurry as departure would soon begin.

He inhaled through his nose, then shut his eyes. His white lashes picked up the blue of the sky. “Fine,” he sighed, staring at me, sizing me up all over again. “Fine, Miss Blooms.” He sent a nervous look into the distance, the way he had back in my apartment. Grault saw, or felt, something that I did not. “Your grandmother was many things. Wonderful, kind, strong... but she was also something that your own mother wanted nothing—entirely nothing—to do with.”

My fingers gripped the side of the carriage so hard that the tips ached. “What was she?”

His lips, his words, they both portrayed a gentle wistfulness. “Tessa was a witch.”

My laugh was sharp, it surprised me. “Impossible. You're joking with me. Witches aren't—that's ridiculous.” I heard my tone growing softer, my face hurting from the forced grin. If only Grault would laugh, too; then it would be easier to believe myself.

In the face of his emotionless stare, my sureness was cracking. “I'll see you soon, Miss Blooms.”

“But how,” I asked, unable to decide who the crazy one was anymore. “How will you get there, if not by train?”

He said nothing. Not as the attendants came and ushered me inside to sit, not as I opened the window and leaned out towards him expectantly for some answers.

With the train roaring in my skull as I raced away, he was gone.

––––––––

I
'd never taken such a long train ride. When the attendant came by to check my ticket, I asked him when we would arrive.

“Around seven in the evening, ma’am,” he said, flashing me his most charming smile.

I spent the first two hours staring out the window, enjoying the sight of the world flowing by. The air was nice, tickling the hair on my neck as the sun rose.

A woman pushed a cart down the aisle, silverware jingling. The scent of rich coffee and sweet breads filled the tiny carriage. When she came beside me, my mouth was liquid from hunger. “Would you like anything?” she asked.

“Does it come with the ride?” I was painfully aware of my dwindling funds.

Her nod might as well have been a celebration gong. “It does.”

Eyeing the bowls of muffins, I pointed at a fat, glossy chocolate chip one. “Then, yes, coffee would be nice. One of those muffins as well.” My stomach rumbled audibly.

She blessed me with a knowing smile, handing me two of the wrapped goodies. “Of course, love. Here you go.”

With my stomach full, caffeine in my blood, the morning flew by. By noon, the train was filling with passengers. However, none of them acknowledged me or said a word. Scrunched up in my seat, alone with my thoughts, the subject

remained one thing.

Was my grandmother actually a witch?

The idea was silly, and I
knew
that. Knowing did very little to assuage my curiosity, my doubts.

Digging into my pocket, I withdrew the wrinkled letter. Dusting crumbs off the small table in front of me, I spread the note out flat.
'Dear Miss Blooms,'
I read again, breezing over the parts I'd seen.

'I need you to come claim my house and my possessions, and the time to do so is short. There is much here for you, and I hope you find it pleasant.

When you arrive, we'll talk in detail.

I'm sorry, again, that we never touched base till now. Gina had her reasons for requesting I stay away from her, and thus you, too. But, life is strange, it throws things our way we never expected.

I have the utmost confidence that you will fit in here. My home welcomes everyone, no matter who they are.

It may seem daunting at first. You're connected to me, though, our blood is the same. I believe in you, and I am sure you will impress everyone.

There is magic inside all of us. You only need to look close, to believe in it, and it will be there when you're ready.'

When I'd first read it, I'd glazed over the words until I narrowed out the things that made it seem like a fake. My gut rippled at the knowledge that my grandmother, a woman I had never known about, would have sent it as an attempt to connect with me.

Why would my mother keep us apart? It can't really be about something so weird as being a 'witch' or whatever.

Can it?

I read that letter. I read it over and over, taking in each sentence, every word, with rising curiosity.

'There is magic inside all of us. You only need to look close, to believe in it, and it will be there when you're ready.'

Tessa wrote this to me. This is for me. And now,
I thought, gazing out the window at the rolling hills of green,
I'm going to take over her house. Without having ever met her... I'm going to take over.

Folding the letter gingerly, I hid it away. It was an important connection between me and this woman I didn't know. A link to my history that my mother, for reasons I still didn't grasp, had chose to hide away.

But not anymore. I have a feeling I'm going to find out quite a lot when I arrive.

It was hard to decide if the burning in my stomach was from indigestion or fear.

****

I
must have fallen asleep. My cheek was pressed on the window, leaving a trail of fog and saliva that I hastily scrubbed away. The outside world was pitch, enveloping the forest I could hardly make out.

Turning on my seat, smoothing my hair nervously, I debated looking for the attendant.
Maybe they could tell me how far we are, now.
The sudden whistle told me instead.

There, I could see dots of orange light out in the distance. Crushing my palms on the glass, I watched the place coming closer.
That must be Barrow Village.

On the curving tracks, my train slowly wound around like a snake circling a mouse. The village was tiny, quaint as a post card. Though there were many lights illuminating the front of the station and homes, it was difficult to get a good look at the place. I wondered where, among everything, my grandmother's house would be.

The wheels squealed until the train halted. Around me, people murmured, coming to life with our destination reached. So few people; for every person we picked up at another station, we lost half as we progressed along.

Hooking my bag on my elbow, I was sure I was one of a mere four climbing from the train. “This
is
Barrow Village, right?” I asked an older man, his hair hidden by a squat hat.

His forehead became a field of waves. “Of course it is, Miss. You aren't lost, are ya?” The way he spoke, I felt like he was suspicious of me.

“No, of course not. Why would I—uh—why would I seem lost?”

“Well,” he chuckled, glancing up at the station roof. “No one comes to Barrow Village that isn't looking for it.”