Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (8 page)

No one had ever said I was right before. Lifting my eyebrows, I gazed upwards at the sympathy on his face. I'd seen it before, I still didn't think I liked it. “What?”

“You may be right,” he said gently. “You could be the wrong person for all of this. However, the problem is... you're our only option.”

I'm the only option?
“That's pretty awful, relying on me.”

“I wouldn't count yourself out so quickly, Miss Blooms.” It was close to a compliment. It was hard to tear my eyes from his face, but I managed. The papers in my hands served to mull the strange way my blood tingled. Wills were notoriously grim things.

Grault tugged the other chair closer to me, sitting in it and folding his ankles. “Is it clear now, that without someone of Tessa's blood to take over here, this place will continue to fall apart?”

“The more I listen to you, make myself believe this magic stuff is real, the more that seems logical. I guess.” Tugging at the ends of my hair, I looked down at my feet. The shoes were crusted in dirt from the walk. “But the more I believe that, the more I'm terrified I can't help. Grault,” I said, my laugh hollow, “I wasn't sure I could become a caretaker
before
I knew about the weird stuff it'd involve. What do I do?”

“You can try your best, Miss Blooms. What harm is there in trying?”

“And if I can't do what she did, if I'm not a witch like her?”

He hesitated, large fists forming in his lap.

I squinted at him doubtfully. “You expected I would have magic, like Tessa, didn't you?”

“I—hoped you would, yes.”

“And now,” I said, feeling the heat on my tongue, “knowing I don't, are you discouraged?”

We stared at each other, though he won the contest of not blinking. Grault was terribly good at being still. When he reached across, placing his hand on mine, I was reminded of how he'd let me squeeze it when I was scared earlier.

That memory made my whole face glow.

“Listen to me,” he said gently, voice full of wet grit. “I will only be discouraged if you walk away from all of this right now. If you leave us—this place—without even trying to fix things... only then, Miss Blooms, will I lose faith in your abilities. Magic or not.”

My hand felt like a butterfly under his. Swallowing loudly, I tugged it back, protecting it from... from something I wasn't sure of. “You're serious, aren't you?”

He closed his eyes, giving a deep nod. “I am.”

I inhaled until my chest ached, then breathed out in a noisy whoosh. “You're very convincing. You should consider becoming a car salesman.” The look of shock he sent my way broke the tension, made me laugh until it echoed around us.

Grault didn't seem to know what to do. Staring at me, his mouth half open, just made me giggle more. “So... you're going to stay?”

Wiping the corner of my eyes, I lifted the stack of papers. “If reading through this doesn't kill me first, yes. I'll stay.”
I hope I don't regret this.

He seemed pleased, warmth touching his ebony eyes. “Good. Then let's go over the will, and then we can start outlining your duties as the new owner of this home.”

A home... how funny,
I thought, listening to Grault prattle beside me.
It's been so long
since
I ever called a place my home.

––––––––

I
t was clear I'd need to take the will into town if I wanted to legally claim the house in my name. And, after my explorations of some of the bottom floor, my hunger to get out in the fresh air was growing.

“You won't come with me?” I asked, pulling a thin sweater on over my dress. I was sure it was still sunny outside, but the greenish world of the house made things... colder.

Grault leaned on the inside arch of a hallway. He looked torn between being nervous, or being excited. “I cannot go. Besides, you don't need help with this, Miss Blooms. A short walk into town, some paperwork at the Barrow Village Hall, you'll be fine.”

I lifted a single eyebrow. “That's all well and good, but why can't you go, too?”
Maybe he doesn't want my company.
The thought was poisonous, I buried it fast.

“I simply can't.” He said it so factually, I bit my tongue and decided not to press it. “I'll see you soon, Miss Blooms.”

“Do you... want me to bring anything back?”

The bridge of his nose crinkled. “What?”

“I just figured, well, if I'm running some kind of weird hotel here—” I pushed on faster at his scowl, “—I should maybe grab some supplies? Food and things?”

His forehead smoothed, one long finger tapping his chin. “Hmn. The stocks are actually very low. Yes, that's a good idea. Let me get you a list.”

A list will quickly break what tiny amount of money I have left.
“Um, actually, on that note.” I poked my index fingers together uneasily. “I asked you about money, before. I'm going to need money to buy things, you know?”

Grault waved a hand, not looking phased by my comment. I wasn't used to people shrugging off requests for money. “Yes, yes. Come this way so we can get this moving.” He mumbled softly to himself while we walked. “Some things for the larder... and the pantry... hmn.”

My attention wandered as I gazed around the room and its stairs, eventually fixating on a string of round lights. Covertly, as we got close, I waggled my fingers at them.

The glass bulbs remained dull, unlit.

Sighing, not really surprised, I trailed Grault into the study. He wasted no time, shuffling behind the long desk below the big portrait.

Standing there, looking up at that smiling painting, I felt tiny as a pebble.
Tessa was amazing, they all keep saying it.
My lips crawled down at the edges.
She was a witch, she had powers and years to practice how to take care of this place. I don't. It's not my fault that this is harder for me than it was for her.

“Here we are.” Grault stood triumphantly, a tiny bag dangling from two fingers. He nudged the drawer behind the desk closed, striding my way in two long steps. “Here, this should be more than enough.”

Cupping my hands to catch the bag when he dropped it, I untied the top. It felt heavy, but I still wasn't ready for what was inside. “This is...”

Stacked perfectly, wrapped in an elastic, was a rectangle of twenty dollar bills as thick as my wrist. “There has to be over eight hundred dollars here!”

My pale companion nodded knowingly. “More than enough, correct?”

“Yeah. Yeah, correct, I—Grault, how much did my grandmother leave me?”

His eyebrows lifted a hair. Reaching out, he gestured for the will. I tugged it from my purse, handing it over. “Were you really not paying attention?” Flipping the papers, he pointed to a section that outlined the wealth.

I'd never seen so many zeroes.

“Her own mother left her a fortune,” he said, “it is enough for anything you could need. Now, let me make you a list, and you can hurry along before it gets too late. I'm unsure how long the town lawyer will be in the Hall.”

I had nothing to say, my fingers trembling on the money.
He wasn't kidding at all.
I remembered Grault's words, my mind buzzing wildly, his voice dull in my ears.

I never joked with you, Miss Blooms.

Not once.

It was that moment that I truly, in my very core, believed everything that was going on around me.

If all of this was real...

What else was waiting for me in that strange house?

****

T
he walk into Barrow Village was refreshing. It helped to clear my head, though that only served to make me dissect my new perception of the world more clinically.

Magic, witches, monsters—no, not monsters. Grault said they weren't monsters, though he didn't actually clarify what my 'guests' actually were.

Now that it was the middle of the day, I saw that the town was bustling as everyone went about their business.

Catching an older woman in a wide brimmed hat watching me by a mailbox, I gave her a tiny smile. She didn't return it. Instead, she shoved her mail into the blue box, then jogged across the street without looking back at me.

Huh. That was weird.
Twisting my hand tighter on my purse, having left the heavy backpack at the house, I stopped on the sidewalk. Now that I was aware of it, it felt like other people were watching me nervously, too.

My skin went clammy under the prying eyes.
What's this all about? What's the problem?
I glanced sideways at a man on a bench. He quickly ducked back behind his newspaper.
Is it because I'm a new face? Dirk did say that in a small town, everyone knows everyone.

I was relieved when I finally spotted the Town Hall. Ducking inside, out of range of the milling, nosy people, I breathed easier. The building was rather small, as Town Halls went. Inside, it was like a dome stretching upwards. A tiny window in the ceiling lit the place.

In the rays of sun, I spotted motes of dust.
Not like I can judge, my new home is filthy.

“Can I help you?” The voice was feminine, bored. A woman sat in a small cubby to the side, easily missed.

Clearing my throat, I wandered her way. “Yes, uh, I'm here to—well, I guess I need someone to go over some legal documents.”

She adjusted the thin wire framed glasses on her nose. “Certainly. Let me get Franz for you, he's our resident lawyer.” I thought she would dial a phone, or speak into an ear-piece. Instead, she stood and cracked her back. Then, as I looked on in confusion, she walked across to a door with pale, scuffed glass. Her knuckles tapped gently. “Franz? Franz! You've got someone here who needs you.”

I didn't spend a minute waiting before he pushed the door open. “Oho? What's that?” Like a man too tall for what his body had to offer, Franz stretched his way out of his office. I could see his knees threatening to poke through his trousers as he walked. “A client you say, Debra? Lovely, just, hold on and I'll make some room in—in here.”

His eyes reached me, that long face coiling into a display 0f horsey teeth. Unsure what to do, I just gave a quick wave.

Franz vanished, the sound of chairs scraping and papers fluttering as background noise. I knew what to expect before Debra waved me over, before I peeked into that little room.

Despite whatever he'd done, it was entirely a mess. I saw a stack of playing cards partially hidden behind the door.
I imagine he doesn't get a lot of business in such a small town.

“Come in, come in,” he said with that giant smile. I took one more glance around the room, noting the low ceiling.

Not so bad, a little small, but I should be fine.
Slipping in, I fell into the chair he gestured at.

Facing me across his cluttered desk, Franz extended a hand. “Franz Firth, nice to meet you.”

His skin was slippery, I held back a wince. “Same here, I'm Farra Blooms.” Before my eyes, I watched his face turn the color of sour milk. It was a look I'd seen on Dirk, but now I could make more sense of it.

“Oh. Oh, you're Tessa's...”

“Granddaughter, yeah.”

He mopped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, digging into drawers frantically. “Aha, yes. Right. I'm so very, very sorry about your loss. I didn't—well how do I put this—didn't actually expect anyone to show up to claim her... well, her estate.”

Narrowing my eyes, I slid my copy of the will from my purse. Franz froze in his neurotic searching, staring at me now that the papers were on the desk, under his pointed nose. “Why didn't you think anyone would come, Mr. Firth?”

“Erm.” Gingerly, he slid the papers closer. From under heavy brows, he gave me a brief glance. “Well, Miss Blooms, your grandmother was the sort who kept to herself. I didn't believe she had any relatives left.”

“'Left?'” I repeated curiously. “You knew my mother, too?”

“Not closely, I just knew of her. A daughter running from her mother is—hmn. It's only that things get out quickly in places like this.” He  seemed to realize how awkward the air felt. “Ahem. Anyway. Let me just look over this quickly. I don't imagine there'll be any issues, you seem to be listed as both executor, and the only recipient.”

Nodding, I folded my hands into the sleeves of my sweater. Between what Dirk had said, and what Franz was saying now, it was becoming clear why everyone in town was staring at me.
They must have realized I'm Tessa's granddaughter, I do look a lot like her when she was near my age. And... I'm guessing people here didn't like her very much.

Did they know, or suspect, she was a witch? Is that all it takes to be scared of me?

Thinking about how I'd reacted so poorly to Grault and his claims, my stomach lurched.

People either don't believe it, or they do and think the worst. That must be it.

Knowing I had acted no better towards my strange new tenants didn't assuage my guilt.

“Well,” Franz said, breaking into my brooding thoughts. “This all looks fine. Let me grab a copy of the deed, and we can get this signed and sorted.”

“Alright.” I watched him leave, heard him talking briefly to Debra. I could see their shapes through the foggy glass, and by the sound of things, was sure they were digging through filing cabinets.

True to his word, Franz was back quickly. “This should do it. Just, ah, sign down here... and here...” Wherever he pointed, I scrawled my messy signature. I felt relief when I saw his was just as cramped. The final step was a nice big stamp, an action Franz did with ceremonial delight. “I like that part,” he explained with a self-conscious smile.

Collecting my copy of everything, I buried it deep in my purse. “So that's it?”

“That's it,” he agreed, watching me while I stood fluidly. Again, his palm reached for me. That time, when we shook, I noted he was less sweaty. “Welcome to Barrow Village, Miss Blooms.” He considered his next words, taking long enough to make me ponder how genuine he was being. “I hope you like it here.”

My fingers drifted from his. “You know, I do too. Thanks, Mr. Firth.”

“If that's all you need, I can show you out.”