Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I MMY

I dressed carefully for my date that night at the Rusty Anchor. Not the kind of place I had expected to meet a date, to be honest. Most of my dates met for coffee or a fancier meal at the Fabled Dragon. But those witches knew me as a Willowby and, while I didn't hide who I was, I wasn't trying to date witches in that class. In fact, I preferred witches who were more regular and were not looking for status and power in their covens. Witches who would be happy living a simple life.

Apparently, those witches had dates at the Rusty Anchor.

I had never even been there and wasn't sure how to dress. I was raised knowing two things. The lineage of every witch in the three towns around Whynot and how to dress for every occasion. I should have also been able to recite the correct spell for every occasion, but, for some reason, that eluded me since the spells always went haywire around me. But I was out of my depth.

Darla suggested a nice pair of jeans, fitted, not my mom jeans, whatever that meant, and a fancy blouse. I resented the mom jeans comment. They were comfortable, and I thought they looked fine. Dutifully, I dug my skinny jeans out of the back of my closet and prayed they fit. With a few prayers to the goddess and a lot of grunting and pushing, I buttoned them, feeling like a sausage. I finished it off with a deep red silk blouse that always made me feel confident and powerful.

Now, I was sitting outside of the Rusty Anchor and I'd never felt so out of place in my whole life, and that was saying something, considering I never belonged with my own family. I watched the people going inside, knowing I was overdressed and out of my depth in this bar. My match had not seemed the type to visit this type of place, but what did I know? I was used to quiet dates with witches who wanted to connect with my family. I was a means to an end.

I gathered my courage and got out of my baby blue mini-cooper that I had just bought a month earlier, and locked it. She stood out in the parking lot like a flashing, neon light, alongside the trucks, and older model vehicles, most of which were, I hated to admit, not as expensive. I knew it was my snobbish side showing, but I worried for my baby and I cast a simple repel spell on her to keep people away and it immediately blared a warning.

My head flew up, and I caught a ghostly figure on the other side of my car drifting by, a screeching noise following its movement.

"What the hell are you doing to my car?"

I raced around the front of my car to stand in front of the figure, noticing it was a ghost and knowing I couldn't stop him if I wanted to. But he froze just in front of me, holding a plank of wood, the only real solid piece of him, rusty old nails sticking out the side and into my beautiful, brand new car.

"You scratched Estelle! Why didn't you watch where you were going? How could you be so thoughtless?"

He blinked, as if surprised to see me in front of him. "I didn't touch your car."

I planted my hands on my hips, blocking the narrow space between cars, though I knew that wouldn't stop him from going right through me. "You didn't, but your wood did."

He looked down as if shocked by the piece of wood in his hands. Then he looked at the car. "I don't see anything."

I narrowed my gaze. I know what I heard, and I heard nails on my car. And my spell wouldn't have gone off if something hadn't tried to touch my car. I had perfected the car alarm spell.

"Move." I edged past the ghost, carefully watching that piece of wood. If those nails gouged me, I would need a healer and my family would hear all about it within minutes. I'd have to explain what I was doing at the Rusty Anchor and I'd be matched to a witch quicker than I could say, no, thank you .

He faded into the car next to me, the wood banging on that rusty truck, but it was fine. Any dents would match what already existed. Sure enough, there was a scratch from those nails. Not as long or big as it could have been if I hadn't been here.

I straightened. "Look at that. That is what your nails did to my car. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He materialized in front of me, closer than I expected, and I backed up a step. He might be a ghost, but he was a pirate from all appearances, and it wasn't smart to piss off the spirits.

"Lady, I have a lot on my mind. Maybe if you didn't park so close to the other car, I wouldn't have hit your car. Learn how to drive."

My jaw dropped at his insult. "I know how to drive and park very well, thank you very much. What would a ghost know about that?"

"If a ghost, who can move through things, still has no room to move between cars without hitting anything, maybe you're the problem. I was half in that truck to get through. My wood isn't very wide, and it didn't have enough space. The problem is yours."

I stretched my arms to show that there was plenty of room and my hands banged against the dirty truck sooner than I expected. Okay, so maybe there was less space than was ideal, but the spaces were small, as was my car.

"You were swinging that piece of wood around very irresponsibly." I lifted my chin, not letting this go. I pointed at his plank and I hit the edge of it. I winced at the sharp pain and I jerked my hand back.

He barked a laugh. "You almost hit me first, lady. I was minding my own business, walking through the parking lot, and you came barreling through without a care for whoever was in your way. I barely got out of the way."

My jaw dropped. "I would never have hit you if I had seen you. Can you even hit a ghost? Can't you just disappear?"

He drew himself up and sneered at me. "That's not the point. You started it and I barely avoided your car. I didn't intend to do anything to your car. Besides, what are you going to do? I can barely stay corporeal enough to hold it, much less swing it. What do you want from me, lady? An apology? Fine. I'm sorry you parked too close, and I hit your car."

I stared at him, utterly bemused. "That's not an apology."

He shrugged, fading a little, then coming back. "That's your opinion. Now, I need to conserve my strength for something important rather than waste my time here."

And he drifted away with his wood. At least he didn't hit my car again.

I was in a foul mood when I stomped into the Rusty Anchor, in the same direction as my nemesis. At least I knew he wasn't my date. First, ghosts couldn't date and second, I had seen the picture of my date. Something about my date's picture had pricked at my brain, like I should have known him, but it eluded me.

I walked into the entrance and looked for a hostess station before realizing this place was more the seat yourself kind of establishment. I looked around the bar area and didn't see anyone who resembled my date. I shifted around the partition to the smaller eating side and saw a man seated by the corner. He lifted his hand and gestured me over. He was smiling broadly, eagerly really, and bounded up from his chair as I got closer. He pulled out my chair and almost shoved me into it as he pushed the chair into the table.

He was blond, blue-eyed, handsome in a clean-cut sort of way. His pale skin hinted at a nordic ancestry and he dressed in a preppy fashion with a button-down shirt under a light, cable-knit sweater and khaki pants. He looked like he would be comfortable on a yacht or dinner party. Like one my parents often threw. Alarm bells were ringing in my ears.

"Erik Dupree?"

"I'm so excited to meet you, Imelda. I was so intrigued by your profile. Your family is so talented and amazing. I can't believe I'm on a date with a Willowby."

Yup, there it was. The Willowby name, following me everywhere. Damn it. But he was such an eager squirrel, excited to be around me that I didn't want to crush his mood, not yet. I didn't recall the Dupree family from my lineage studies. And believe it, I had scars on my hands from my mother's ruler when I didn't recite lineages correctly. Catholic school had nothing on Bellona Willowby.

I spread the large paper napkin on my lap, taking my time and finding my words. "Well, it's nice to meet you, too. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

He launched into a recitation of his schooling, his awards at academy, his powers, and his plans as a witch, along with his lineage and family connections. He spoke for so long the waitress turned away three times, even when I gestured for a glass of water. I despaired of ever having anything to drink, and I was parched just listening to him speak.

When he stopped for a breath, I broke in. "Do you think we might want to order?"

He froze, blinking at me. "Food? You want to eat?"

I paused. Wasn't that why we were at a restaurant? "Um, yes? Isn't this dinner?"

He colored a deep red. "I thought we were discussing a merger of our families. Isn't that how this is done? We discuss if our families and our powers would meld appropriately and then we move to the next step?"

I sighed. "How many dates have you been on, Erik?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Dates, Erik. When two people go somewhere to get to know each other and see if there is attraction."

Now he really looked confused, his brow furrowing and confusion clouding his blue eyes. "But that's not how Willowby's do things. I was told to showcase my talents. That was the way to impress the Willowbys."

I narrowed my gaze. "You work for my family, don't you?"

He nodded, his gaze firmly fixed on the table now. "In the charms division. But I could be more. I could be an asset to your family, if our magics align. I mean, it's not like you have witches banging down your door."

His horrified look showed that he at least knew that he overstepped and said more than he should, but no more than my family often said. I deliberately folded my napkin and laid it on the plate. At least I didn't need to find out how the food was at the RustyAnchor, and risked food poisoning.

"Erik, thank you for a lovely evening, but this isn't going to work out."

Before I could finish what I was saying, or Erik could start his protest, a ghostly specter appeared between us, and a dirty plank with nails sticking up plopped on our table.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, witch?"