Wicked Beginning: An Ivy Morgan Mystery Books 1-3 (9 page)

“Where should we start?” Jack asked, glancing around Ivy’s small living room an hour later. “I don’t see all these books that Brian was talking about.”

Ivy arched a challenging eyebrow and gestured toward the small stack of books on the end of her coffee table. “This is not my book collection.”

She started moving down the hallway, leaving Jack with no option but to follow. The first doorway they passed was open, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from glancing inside. It was a large – especially for the size of the cottage – bathroom. The claw foot tub looked vintage, and the airy curtains gave the room a welcoming feeling.

Farther down was Ivy’s bedroom, and Jack found himself openly staring at the queen-sized bed, Nicodemus stretched out on a patchwork comforter that was pulled tight at the corners of the four-poster.
Don’t think about that,
he warned himself, forcing his attention back to Ivy as she led him to the last room in the hallway.

She smiled engagingly at him as she pushed the door open, and Jack couldn’t help but suck in a breath when he realized what he was looking at. Three of the walls in the room were covered – floor to ceiling – with wooden bookshelves. He’d never seen this many books in one place outside of a library or store. The shelves were so high they had those ladders that slide along railings on each wall so Ivy could get things off the top shelves.

In the center of the room was a comfy looking couch and ottoman. That was the only other furniture present. Jack whistled, the sound low and impressed. “This is … .”

“Nerdy. I know,” Ivy said, sighing. “I love books. I can’t explain it.”

“I wasn’t going to say nerdy,” Jack said, chuckling. “It’s … beautiful.”

Ivy was surprised. “Beautiful?”

“I can tell you spend a lot of time in this room,” Jack said. “It’s comfortable.” He moved over to run his hands over the shelves. “These are handmade. Someone clearly went out of their way when they made these for you.”

“Max made them,” Ivy said.

“I kind of figured,” Jack said, loving the feeling of the wood as he touched it. “You can tell he wanted something that would fit your personality.”

“As in loud and overbearing?”

“As in … amazing.” Jack realized what he’d said, but it was too late to pull the words back into his mouth. Instead of acknowledging them, he pretended he hadn’t uttered them. “Where should we start?”

Ivy pointed to the shelves on the far side of the room. “Those are the books that might be able to help us.”

There had to be fifty leather-bound tomes there, all well taken care of and heavy looking. It was going to take them forever. Jack stepped up to the shelves, selecting one of the books and pulling it out to study. “So, this is a … witch book?”

Ivy made a face, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded him. “Do you want to talk about this before we start?”

Jack balked. “Talk about what?”

“Your attitude regarding witches.”

“What makes you think I have an attitude about witches?”

“You have a funny way of saying the word,” Ivy said. “For the record, I don’t consider myself a witch. I consider myself a naturalist who leans toward certain … practices … and I’m a great proponent of the tenets of Wicca.

“I do not ride around on a broom, however,” she continued. “I don’t curse people. I don’t make potions, although I do make lotion and soap. I don’t cast spells. I don’t try to eat small children. Oh, and last time I checked, I don’t cackle when I laugh.”

Jack couldn’t stop himself from smiling. She was just so … serious. “Okay,” he said. “I guess you’re saying you’re a nature lover. I think I can live with that.”

“It’s a little more than that,” Ivy hedged, shifting from one foot to the other. “I am not a true Wiccan. I like a lot of their beliefs, and I happen to believe in karma. I’m more of a … mixture. I pick what I like and stick to it. In essence, I believe in being a good person and holding true to myself. I also believe in magic.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s not,” Ivy said. “There are some people in town, though, who don’t understand that.”

“Ava Moffett?”

Ivy smiled tightly. “She’s part of the small group who believe I’m a Devil worshipper and am sacrificing babies during full moons.”

Jack smirked. “I don’t care what you believe, Ivy,” he said. “You seem pretty … normal … to me. Well, other than your hair.”

“I happen to like my hair.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It just stands out.”

Ivy sighed. “Do you want to ask me anything?”

“Yes.”

Ivy was surprised. She’d expected him to insist on looking through the books instead of conversing. “Okay.”

“Can someone pervert Wiccan beliefs to do evil?”

“People can pervert anything to do evil,” Ivy said. “Wicca is very … peaceful, though. It’s not about hurting anyone. That’s what people don’t seem to understand. Wicca is not Satanism. That’s a common misconception.”

“Do you get a lot of people trying to convert you? Brian told me this is a Christian town. I would guess they see you as something of a challenge.”

“Most of the residents here are good people,” Ivy replied. “They accept me for who I am. There are a few, though, who are … dismissive … of my beliefs and me. I’ve been dealing with it since I was a child. I’m used to it. I let it roll off of me.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he let it go. “You seem like a good person,” he said. “I don’t have a problem with your beliefs. You’re a little … touchy … but you have a right to your feelings. I’m guessing people judge you by how you look, not who you are. I know how that is.”

Ivy cocked her head to the side, considering. “People look at you and see a tough guy, don’t they?”

Jack shrugged, hating the way her gaze made him feel.

“You’re a lot more than people give you credit for,” she said. “You’re a … deep thinker. I think you’re a deep feeler, too.”

“You’re wrong there,” Jack said. “I’m someone who likes to focus on my job. I do think about that, so I am a deep thinker. I don’t really get close enough to people to feel anything, though. It’s just not who I am.”

Now Ivy was the doubtful one. The words were bold, but she had trouble believing them. “Well, that’s too bad,” she said. “Feeling things is the way of the world. You are who you are, though. We should probably get to work.”

“We should,” Jack agreed. “How about I start on one side and you start on the other?”

Ivy nodded. “Sure. We can meet in the middle.”

FOUR HOURS
later Jack’s back hurt and his eyes were starting to cross. He’d flipped through so many books his fingers were starting to ache – and that was on top of the paper cuts.

He jumped when Ivy dropped a heavy book on the floor. “We need a break,” she said.

“We still have at least half of these books to go through,” Jack said.

“I know. We’re starting to zone out, though. We need to refocus.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Ivy smiled. “How about a walk?”

Jack stilled. “A walk?”

“I need some air,” Ivy said. “I need to stretch my legs. This house is starting to feel small. Usually when I feel like this I go for a walk. I don’t have to go if you’re not in the mood, but I think it would do you some good, too.”

Jack shrugged. “I could use a walk,” he said. “A half hour away from this would probably let us recharge. Are we going to walk in the woods?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“That’s fine,” Jack said. “I like the woods. I didn’t get a chance to really look around last night because your brother tossed me around like I was on the high school football team and I was trying to get the winning touchdown.”

Ivy snickered. “I don’t care what you say,” she said. “I saw what you did. You could have seriously hurt him.”

“I … it was a draw.”

“Thank you for not hurting him,” Ivy said, ignoring Jack’s attempt at modesty. “He’s a pain in the rear, but he’s very important to me.”

“I think you’re important to him, too,” Jack said. “Let’s go for that walk. I’m kind of curious to look around. I love this parcel of land. It’s very … peaceful.”

“It is,” Ivy said, getting to her feet. “Let’s go.”

IVY
led Jack out through the front door, setting an easy pace as they loped into the woods. The trees were tall, and their wide boughs allowed for a lot of shade as the sun broke through in small glints.

Even though the silence was amiable, Jack was uncomfortable with it. This was his opportunity to learn more about Ivy, and he wasn’t going to pass it up. “Did you spend a lot of time out here when you were a kid?”

“Max and I liked to play games,” Ivy said. “We used to chuck pine cones at one another and pretend they were grenades, and we made a lot of forts.”

“I heard you made a … what did Brian call it?”

Ivy glanced up at him, pursing her lips as she waited.

“A fairy ring,” Jack said. “He said that all the kids in town went to church camp one summer and you stayed home and made a fairy ring. What is that?”

“Technically you can’t make a fairy ring,” Ivy clarified. “It has to be naturally occurring. That being said, I found a fairy ring and I cleaned up the area and made it a kind of … hang out.”

“Brian also said you still keep it up,” Jack said. “Can I see it?”

The fairy ring – her special clearing in the forest – was Ivy’s favorite place in the world. She rarely took people there, even Max. It was her private spot. Still, for some reason, she couldn’t deny Jack. “Do you really want to see it?”

“I’m dying to see it,” Jack said. “I have no idea what it is, and yet I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head since Brian mentioned it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied honestly. “I keep picturing flowers … and sunshine … and magic.”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, his voice soft. “I believe in evil. I’ve seen it. I would like to think there’s something out there to counter it, even if I never get to see it with my own eyes.”

“Okay then,” Ivy said, giving in. “I’ll show you some magic.”

A wave of … something … ran down Jack’s spine. He was already in the presence of magic, even if Ivy didn’t know it. It was like the air was sparking around them – they just couldn’t see it. “Let’s go.”

Jack followed Ivy, the duo occasionally chatting about specific trees and landmarks, but the trek was made mostly in silence. After about fifteen minutes, Ivy led Jack into a small clearing. It took Jack a few seconds to realize what he was looking at.

An old tree, one of those ancient husks that almost looks as if it has a face carved into it, rested on one side. In the middle, a large ring of mushrooms made a complete circle around a distinctive rock. It almost looked like a small altar. Between the chirping birds and far off trickle from a nearby creek, Jack was nearly convinced he’d crossed over into Heaven.

“This is … amazing.”

“It’s special,” Ivy agreed, glancing around. “This is my favorite place on Earth.”

“Do you come here often? Does Max come out here with you?”

“This is my … private place,” Ivy said. “Max has been here. He always knew to come here to find me when I was late for dinner as a kid. He still let me have this place to myself.”

Jack turned to her, his expression thoughtful. “If this is your private place, why did you bring me here?”

Ivy shrugged. “I just thought you might need a little magic.”

The air between them zinged, and Jack unconsciously took a step toward her. His eyes were focused on her petal pink lips, and he couldn’t force his mind to any other notion besides kissing her. He couldn’t explain it, and he wasn’t sure he could fight it.

Ivy appeared to be reading his mind because she didn’t shy away when he moved toward her.

“What’s happening?” Jack murmured, taking another step. She was only a foot away from him now.

“Magic,” Ivy whispered, tilting her head up and widening her blue eyes.

Jack took the final step, his fingers grazing the side of her face, but instead of finding solid ground his ankle twisted as he stepped on a rock and he found himself falling. He just wasn’t falling into her eyes – or upon her lips. He was tumbling toward the ground.

“Oh, crap!”

All manly bravado fled Jack the second he hit the ground. His tailbone hurt and his wrist pinged with pain as he used it to absorb the bulk of his fall, but it was his pride that took the biggest beating.

Ivy’s eyes were like saucers, the blue searching Jack’s brown orbs for a hint that he was hurt. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said, grunting as he shifted.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“That’s good,” Ivy said. Then she burst into hysterical gales of laughter, bending over at the waist and letting her whole body shake.

Jack scowled. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I can’t help it,” Ivy said, holding her hand to her midriff as she gasped for breath. “I just … it was like something out of a movie.”

Jack didn’t want to laugh, but Ivy was having such a good time it was contagious. Finally, he gave in and joined her. “Yes, it’s very funny.”

“You’re such a big guy,” Ivy said, collecting herself. “It was like you were falling in slow motion.”

“I’m glad to serve as your entertainment.” Jack leaned back on the ground, rolling slightly so he could gain his footing. He pushed off and climbed to his feet, rubbing his hands against his shirt and jeans to clean them once he was standing. “Are you done laughing now?”

Ivy pressed her lips together, uncertain. “I think so.”

“I can wait until you’re done.”

“Are you sure?”

Jack waited, and when Ivy dissolved into giggles again, he couldn’t help but join her as he rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “That’s nice,” he said.

“What is?” Ivy asked, wiping a mirthful tear from her eye.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you really laugh.”

He was serious, and the tone of his voice caused Ivy to still. She hadn’t forgotten where they’d been heading before Jack’s tumble. “I’m sorry. Laughing at the misfortune of others isn’t something I generally do.”

“It’s not like I lost a leg in a car accident or anything,” Jack said. “I fell. Sometimes that’s funny. I like seeing you laugh.”

“Well, I’m done now,” Ivy said, straightening. “Will you let me look you over quickly and make sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said.

“Just humor me.”

“I thought that’s what I just did.”

The smile Ivy flashed at Jack was utterly charming.

“Fine,” he said. “Look me over.”

Ivy circled him, her hands reaching out to touch his arm before she jerked them back. Her gaze was serious as she focused on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, raising his hand to rub it against his chin.

“Don’t do that!”

It was too late. Jack scratched his itch. “Don’t do what?”

The expression on Ivy’s face was no longer amused. Now it was sympathetic. “I … um … please try not to touch yourself. Anywhere.”

Jack made a face. “Excuse me?”

Ivy pointed at the ground, gesturing toward the crushed plants with a rueful smile. “I know you can’t tell now because you destroyed them, but … .”

“Listen, I’m sorry I marred your fairy ring,” Jack said, scratching his nose. “I didn’t mean to wreck this for you.”

Ivy pressed her lips together, horrified. “Jack, please stop touching your face.”

“Why?”

“Those aren’t just plants … or weeds,” Ivy said. “It’s … ironically … Poison Ivy.”

Jack’s shoulders stiffened, and his face was a mask of worry and anger as he focused on Ivy. “What?”

“That’s Poison Ivy. It spreads like wildfire, and your hands were in it.”

“You’re saying I’m infected with Poison Ivy?”

Ivy moved closer to him, focusing on his neck. “You’ve already spread it to your neck, and I’m going to guess to your nose. Since you were rolling around down there, I’m a little worried it’s on your back, too.”

“What should I do? Do I need to go to the hospital?” Jack was a city boy. He had no idea how to deal with nature problems. Despite himself, he was starting to panic. A gangbanger with a sawed-off shotgun he could handle. This, though, was something that might just render him catatonic.

“I have a cream back at the cottage,” Ivy said, drawing his attention back to her. “It will stop the spread and ease the itching. I just need you to really try to keep your hands away from your face.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Let’s go. Now that I know what this is, all I want to do is scratch my face.”

“Don’t scratch anything else either,” Ivy warned, somber.

“Like what?”

“Anything … down there,” Ivy said, pointing toward the crotch of his jeans.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea,” Ivy said. “I just know Max did it when he was a teenager – he was out in the woods with Becky Saunders and they were rolling around – and he said nothing ever hurt that badly in his entire life. He’s still haunted by it. He’s broken a couple of bones and dislocated his shoulder, so I take him at his word.”

“I’m not an animal,” Jack said. “I have no intention of scratching anything. You can rest assured that I won’t be doing … that.”

“Okay,” Ivy said, giving him a wide berth as she circled back around and headed toward the cabin. “Keep close … but try not to touch me.”

“I think I can control myself.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Jack was glad she had faith, because now that she had told him what not to scratch that was all he could think about scratching. “I have the worst luck ever,” he grumbled.

“Did you say something?”

“Pick up your pace. I’m  suffering here.”

BY THE
time they got back to the cottage Jack was a mess. He kept imagining an army of angry red bumps all over his face. Well, he’d been looking for something to keep the women of Shadow Lake at bay – this just wasn’t what he had in mind.

“Sit down on the kitchen table,” Ivy instructed. “The cream is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in one minute. Take your shirt off.”

Jack balked. “Why?”

“Honey, it’s on your neck. I saw it when we came into the house. That means it’s on your back. It spreads. I need to put the cream anywhere you’ve been exposed.”

Jack scowled. “I can put it on my own back.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Ivy said, moving toward the hallway. “The sooner I can get this cream on you the better.”

Jack watched her go, dread washing over him. He couldn’t take his shirt off. He wouldn’t. There had to be another way. He couldn’t let her … see.

When Ivy returned to the kitchen she had a bottle of lotion in her hand and a frown on her face. “I told you to take your shirt off.”

“I feel fine on my back,” Jack lied. “Just handle my hands and face. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know what this modesty thing is, but I don’t like it,” Ivy said. “Poison Ivy can be serious. Now, lift your arms. I’ve seen plenty of men without their shirts on before. I promise not to jump you if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not a teenage girl … and you’re not that hot.”

Jack made a face. “I … no.”

“That did it,” Ivy snapped. “I’m not joking around here. I don’t know what you’re embarrassed about, but trust me, I’ve seen it all. Now, lift your arms over your head right now!”

Jack was so surprised by her vehemence he had no choice. He reluctantly lifted his arms, resigned, and Ivy’s hands were on the bottom hem of the shirt and whipping it over his head before he could think of a reason to stop her.

Ivy dropped the shirt on the table next to him, her gaze focused on his neck. She hadn’t seen his deep, dark secret yet. It was only a matter of time, though. Jack fixed his eyes on the floor. He didn’t want to see the revulsion on her face when she finally worked her way around and saw … everything.

Instead of looking at his front, though, Ivy tipped the bottle of lotion and rubbed the cool substance onto the fiery spot on his back. She rubbed it in partially and then left it sitting on top of the rash. “It needs to soak in.”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled.

Ivy moved to his front, practically growling when she saw his muscled arms and chiseled chest. His eight-pack abs were moving in and out as he sucked in an uneasy breath, and she couldn’t understand what he was so worked up about. And then she saw it.

On the left side of his chest, below his shoulder and above his heart, there were two angry scars. They were both round and raised, and Ivy knew what they were without being told. They were bullet wounds. He’d been shot. Twice. The location would seem to indicate he’d been lucky to survive.

Without realizing what she was doing, Ivy’s fingertips traveled to the scars, tracing them lightly. Jack refused to meet her questioning eyes, so she leaned in and brushed her lips against his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to be ashamed.”

Jack involuntary shuddered at her words – and her touch – and he finally found the courage to lift his head. Her face was serious, but she didn’t look disgusted or frightened. “You don’t want to know?”

“No,” Ivy said. “You don’t want to tell me. If you ever do, I’ll want to know. It’s not my business. You can wait until you’re ready.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever be ready?”

Ivy shrugged and poured more of the lotion into her hand, rubbing it over an angry spot of skin on his neck and causing him to almost cry out in relief when the soothing salve wiped away the torturous itchiness. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be ready,” Ivy said. “I just know that you’re not ready now. I would never try to force you into telling me. That’s not who I am.”

“I … this isn’t something I want people talking about.”

“Do you think I would spread your secret all over town?”

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head as he realized she wouldn’t be capable of something like that. “I moved here to put all of … this … behind me.”

“I understand,” Ivy said, shifting her hands to the spot under his chin. “Lift up here, please.”

Jack did as instructed. He no longer had any place to look but Ivy’s eyes. It was like being lost at sea, and she was the only boat within swimming distance. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just so comfortable in your own skin,” he said. “You know who you are, and you’re not afraid to be the person you were born to be. You don’t try to conform to what other people want. You’re just you.”

“That’s the way I was raised,” Ivy said. “I don’t see why you’re surprised. You’re the same way.”

“I’m not sure I am,” Jack said, his eyes moving to her plump lips. “I’m afraid to be the person I am. I’m afraid I’ve turned myself into a … monster.”

Ivy chuckled hollowly. “A monster? You’re not a monster. You’re conflicted, and you’re trying to find even footing, but you’re as far from a monster as anyone can get.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can feel your soul,” Ivy said softly. “It’s … beautiful.”

Their lips were close. Too close. Jack couldn’t fight the urge. Not again. He lifted his chin slightly and their lips met before he could think better about what he was doing. The kiss was light at the start, but as they both leaned in to deepen it, things turned needy.

Jack found he was lifting his hands to run through her hair and pull her closer – but the reality of the Poison Ivy caught up with him before he could give in to his baser instincts. He wouldn’t hurt her … not for anything in this world.

They pulled apart at the same time, both of them gasping for air.

Ivy’s hand flew up to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Jack asked, struggling to clear the lovesick cobwebs from his mind. “I … I’m the one who did it. I’m the one who is sorry.”

“I think we both did it,” Ivy said, making a face. “I just … I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mean to … I’m not sure we should … I just … .”

Jack couldn’t stop himself from laughing, breaking the spell but chasing the pall from the room. “Relax, Ivy. We didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t do anything we can’t take back. It was just an ... impulse.”

Ivy nodded, relieved. “Just an impulse.”

“Right,” he said, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “People have impulses all of the time. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It was just a charged moment.”

“Right.” Ivy blew an extended breath out, blowing her hair away from her forehead. “It was just a stupid impulse. Here … don’t move … I’m not done with your face yet. Once I’m done, you should be good to go.”

“That’s good,” Jack said, internally sighing. That was the one thing he desperately needed to do now: go. If he stayed, he knew darned well that impulses would get the better of them again, and he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to stop himself a second time.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop himself – and that was a frightening thought.