Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (9 page)

“Actually,” I said, digging into my bag again. “Do you write money orders here?”

My question had thrown him off, it took him some time to fight around his tongue. “Oh. Uh. Yes, of course, I can do that for you. I tend to handle all paperwork, legal or otherwise. They don't need more than just me here, as you can imagine, I'm sure—ah.” He paused in his rambling. “How much do you need it for?”

I unfolded the bills to show him. “I'll need an envelope to send it in, as well.”

Franz did it all, quick to exchange my money for the official slip of paper. “Could I ask who you'd be sending so much money to?”

I scribbled down the address carefully. “Just squaring away a debt. Good day, Mr. Firth.”

Outside, the world felt brighter. It was with some private pleasure that I slipped the envelope into the mail box.

I hoped Miss Tanner would get it promptly.

****

F
or the third time, I squinted at Grault's neat writing. Then, up at the wall of fruit in front of me. “What the hell,” I whispered to myself, “does he expect me to do with this?”

He'd written down a number of items, but most notably was the number beside each of them.
Three containers of eggs, ten pounds of bacon, six chickens—and a single duck—does he actually expect me to carry all of this back?

And what the hell is a capon!? I've never heard of that before!

I rested my forehead on the cool glass of the meat chiller. If this was the first hint of my duties as a caretaker, I didn't feel optimistic about what else was coming.

“Farra?” Swinging around, I found Dr. Colton standing beside me in the grocery store. He looked perfectly surprised to see me. “So you decided to stay, then.”

“How could you tell?” I asked, looking for the answer in his calm face.

He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I just had a guess, mostly.” He looked pointedly at the piece of paper in my hand. “It'd be a tad strange to buy up a grocery list if you were planning to just hop on a train and leave.”

My smile grew like a weed. “Are you a detective or a doctor?”

“Always wanted to be a detective,” he said, winking with a gruff chuckle.

I turned the list around, facing it inches from his nose. “On that note, maybe you can help me. What the heck is a capon?”

Dirk leaned backwards, away from the paper. Then, rubbing his eyes roughly, he peered at it for a long moment. “Ah. That would be...” He moved along the glass until he found something inside. Then, rapping his knuckles on the surface, he slid the chiller open. “Here we go.”

I didn't move closer. Dubiously, I stared at the yellow thing he held high. “What is it?”

“A capon,” he said matter of fact, dropping it into the basket by my feet. “It's a rooster, pretty much.”

“Pretty much?”

His smirk was fast. “They're missing a certain part that makes them a rooster, so to speak.”

My look of disgust made him laugh. “Oh, uh. Hmn. Wonder why Grault wanted one so bad.”

Dirk's humor faded. “Grault, you say.”

“Mmhm,” I mused, dropping a packet of thick bacon into my basket.
He'll have to deal with not getting everything. I'm not a mule.
“He's... you know, I actually don't know exactly what he does. I guess he helped my grandmother run things.”

“I know who he is, yes.”

Hooking the basket on my elbow, I blinked at the doctor. “Oh. That's right, I guess you would.”
What else does he know?
Thinking of the house, of the things inside of it, I stared at Dirk curiously. “You said you visited Tessa. Then, you've been inside the house.”

He looked away, reading the grocery list he still held with incredibly interest. “True enough.”

“Then you've... you know, uh, have you... seen the
guests
she tended after?” I felt my skin going warm with nerves and excitement, the chillness of the meat coolers doing little to quell it.

Carefully, he folded the list. “Let's not talk about that here.” He gave a meaningful look around.

Frowning, I spotted some people eyeing us. “Oh. Fine, let me grab some more stuff. Will you help me carry things back to the house?”

His smile touched his eyes. “How could I refuse?”

It was much easier with another set of hands. While I knew I only had a fraction of what Grault had listed, it was better than just what I could carry.

He'd put down things that I could only assume were for baking. Flour, butter, sugar, vanilla...

I was in no way a baker. I didn't do much cooking at all.

Dirk's amused smile glowed when I dropped a premade package of chocolate chip cookies into the basket, followed by a bag of bagels.

For myself, I grabbed some basic items to help me settle in. I hadn't even seen what room I'd be sleeping in, but I made the assumption that I'd need to take care of myself.

How could I be sure there would even be toothpaste?

By the time we were finally on the path back to my new home, the sun was getting low and my mood even lower. I was hungry, the only food in me being the breakfast Dirk had made.

With a guilty look at the doctor, I tore open the packet of bagels in my shopping bag. He had the grace not to comment, ignoring me as I chewed into the tough thing.

“You wanted to know about what I'd seen in that house, didn't you, Farra?”

He spoke so suddenly, I nearly choked on my bagel. Coughing, I wiped my mouth with a beet-red blush. “Yeah. I just wanted—I guess confirmation that you knew what was in there.”

“Well,” he said softly looking at me thoughtfully, “I was wary of you taking on all of this for a reason.”

“So you knew. You knew for real.” The bagel lost its taste. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Dirk turned away, gazing up at the sky as it stretched into the evening. It wasn't dark yet, I hoped he'd make it back before the sun vanished. “Would you have believed me if I'd warned you?”

I squeezed the dough in my hand. “No.”

He just nodded, considering the big hill that I now knew marked the turn towards the house. “But you know...” In that large shadow, he stopped. “I had wondered what you would do.”

Adjusting the bags, a shiver crept up my body. “What did you suspect?”

In that chunk of darkness, feeling so far away from the entire world and the sun, I swore that Dirk looked sad. “I wasn't surprised when I saw you in the store, Farra. I guess I had a hunch all along about what you would do. How strange.”

I'd lost my appetite, the bagel falling by the wayside. “Yeah. Strange.”
How could anyone have guessed what I would do? Even I didn't know.

Not even me.

The heavy mood changed when we passed the hill. Despite that, the house as it rose up was still tinged by an ominous vibe. I was sure that wouldn't change as long as it looked so abandoned.

“Thanks for helping me,” I said, flashing a genuine grin at Dirk.

He tipped his hat, handing the bags off to me. I balanced them all on my fingers, knowing instantly I couldn't have made it all the way back with such a load. “My pleasure. Well, I guess we'll be seeing more of each other, Farra.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed. “I'm sure I'll have to make more trips into town as I fix this place up.”

With a knowing nod, the doctor turned his back to me. “Take care.”

I couldn't wave, so I just shouted another 'bye' at his fading image. Then, with a grunt, I juggled the bags until I had a free enough grip to manage the front door. “I'm back! Hello?”

No one responded, I dropped the bags in the entry with a groan. “Anyone want to come help me unload all of this? Anyone at all?”

Gripping my hips, I stared around the main room. The desk sat alone, Tessa's lantern resting where I'd left it. The big book hadn't moved, nothing had. With the light fading outside, everything had a strange, greenish effect. It was as if I'd walked into a submarine.

It wasn't an image I enjoyed.

Inhaling sharply, I rubbed the beads of sweat away as they began to form. “I'm fine,” I assured myself. “This room is fine, it's big and... and yeah.” Channeling my sinking mood into irritation, I peeked down the dark hallway on my right. “Hey! Grault! Someone! Where do I put all of this?”

Looking down at the bags, I began to wonder how long meat could last at room temperature.
Not long, I think.

Hanging my chin to my chest, I grabbed the bags and started to drag them. I had no clue where the kitchen was in the house. But, having been to the right, I decided to explore the left hall instead.

It was all incredibly dim, lacking even the vague light of the sun trickling in.
Maybe I should get the lantern.

Scurrying into the main room, I snagged it back up from where I'd left it by the desk. It added to my burden, but I preferred vision to shadows.

Dammit. How do I get the lights to work?

And how long is this hallway?

I didn't feel like I'd been walking for long. When I looked back, the archway was a tiny speck. “I—what?” I asked out loud, turning to gaze ahead of me. There, I could see a vague hint of light.

I licked my lips nervously. My steps were faster, the bags scraping on the wood. I could have sworn the walls weren't so near, the ceiling so low, before.

I had the awful impression that things were getting tighter as I moved. I was reminded of walking deep into a pastry bag, heading for the tiny hole of the nozzle.

My tongue tasted like a battery, I knew that feeling.
I'm going to have a panic attack, aren't I? Oh, god, not here!

At some point, I had begun to run. The bags were forgotten on the floor, my feet slapping loudly in the shrinking hall. I only kept hold of the lantern, my sole light source.

In front of me I found a tiny door, hardly taller than a child. It was the only exit, but I wouldn't let myself believe it.

Spinning, my hair sticking to my neck, I started to run the other way. Again, impossibly, I found the tiny door.

“No,” I sobbed, covering my mouth violently. The way my stomach was twisting was not encouraging. “No, no no no.”

The door wasn't one I knew, but it didn't matter. My claustrophobia was too quick to connect the place with a cramped space, the feeling of being trapped. It was a memory I didn't dare let surface.

Not this, no! Just run, keep looking, go!

My breathing was ragged, tearing my lungs. Again and again, I sprinted down those halls. They kept changing, morphing impossibly.

I didn't know where it came from, and I'd lost track of how many times I'd fled from the small door, but there was an intersection ahead of me. It was a beautiful sight, the area lit up by something.

With my chest on fire, arms sore from swinging them, I ran towards it. All of my fear propelled me, I'd do anything to not enter that mysterious, shrunken portal.

The burst of heat on my face was surprising. I'd exploded out of the hall and into a wide room lush with greenery.

Falling to my knees, I hung my head under my curtain of hair. It'd come loose in my escape, dark strands tickling my cheeks. Through confused eyes that ached from sweat and strain, I looked up. To my amazement, I saw a giant emerald dome arching above.

I'm in a greenhouse.

How had I stumbled upon such a beautiful place? It
was
beautiful, though the more I looked, the overgrowth and wildness became clear. It was a garden run amok, untended for what felt to be years.

I didn't stand yet, but I sat up enough to gaze around easier. I could see roses, crawling vines, and the ground under me was grass thick as cotton candy. In the middle, I spotted a tiny bridge of faded red. It crossed a long stream clogged with moss.

That was where I spotted him.

Still as a statue, his skin glistened, ashen marble in the green light. Broad shoulders that displayed their strength, a curving spine digging through rows of muscle.

He was bare from the waist up, perched on the end of the bridge furthest from me and facing away. On his shoulder blades, I spotted what had to be the most elaborate winged tattoos ever.

Dark as coal, they reminded me of a bat's. They went all the way down to his lower back, partially brushing his ribs, and certainly brushing my blood enough to make it flare.

Grault.

Grault, as still as ever, but more exposed than I would have imagined on my own. I didn't need to see his face to know it was him. That flesh, his hair, I was sure.

But what was he doing?

He must have sensed me, maybe my breathing was audible in my rush of confusing emotions. From panicked to dazzled, thinking was a chore.

Turning his head fast enough I worried about whiplash, Grault stared at me with disbelief. “Miss Blooms? What are you doing here?”

“I—it's—ah!” I hurried to stand, but instead, stumbled back to my knees. Gripping my forehead, I hissed through clenched teeth.
Damn, that run really messed me up.
I knew it was more than that, but...

He was on me, blocking the green light as he held my shoulders. “Miss Blooms, what happened? Are you alright?”

Lifting my eyes, I saw how close his bare chest was to me. It was...
Disconcerting? No, no, something else. Oh god he's asking me something, focus already!
Shaking my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I think I'm fine. I sort of had an encounter?”

“An encounter with
what?
”

Meeting his eyes was impossible. I stared sideways at a row of thorny yellow flowers. “A door.”

Grault eased up his hold on me. Then, half-standing, he took my fingers to help me to my feet. I didn't fight him. I did, however, disengage to put a few feet between us. “Miss Blooms,” he said gently, “what are you talking about?”

I looked at him, his hard collar bones, his concerned black eyes. I wondered if my whole face was pink. “Why aren't you wearing a shirt?”

“Excuse me?”

Pointing, I covered my mouth. Had I ever felt so shy? “You're shirtless, you have nothing—your chest is just—um.”

The mood snapped, I felt it. What concern he'd had for me shifted, his expression sliding back behind a stoic mask. Turning, his muscles gliding powerfully, Grault grabbed his jacket from the bridge.