chapter twenty

chase

Meghan beat me to our meeting place on Monday morning, and she’d stolen my usual spot, too. Perched on the desk with her legs crossed, her black skirt pooling around her, she perked up when I came through the doorway. “Guess what?”

I could already tell her mood had improved from last week. Sometimes, when Meghan shifted into one of her heavy, sad moods, she tended to linger there for a while. To see her smiling again was a welcome relief.

But I’d take her either way.

I stopped and scanned her from her bare feet right up to the sheer collar of her blouse, held together with a pearl button against her neck. She looked beautiful in it, like an actress plucked from an old black-and-white film, but I couldn’t let the opportunity to tease her pass. “You stole your outfit from a Victorian ghost?” I guessed.

Meghan tilted her chin downward to shoot me an annoyed look, but her smile never went away. “No. The parks department is having a big bash in June to celebrate the new skate park, and we’ve got dibs on the story.”

I nodded in approval, dropping my heavy backpack on the desk beside her.

“Whatcha got in there, rocks?” she joked.

“Actually, yes.” I quickly unzipped the bag and reached inside, pulling out a flat stone. I finally got a hold of the kid who had found weird rocks in the area the Woodvale Witch frequented, and he’d let me borrow them to research the symbols etched into them. For days, I’d been meaning to contact a friend of mine who was an expert on runes and symbols, but the tornado had kind of forced me to put most of my hobbies on hold.

Meghan let out a cute chuckle when I pulled out the second stone, but when I flipped them both over to reveal the symbols, her laughter came to an abrupt stop. She yanked one of the rocks from my hand, staring at the symbol in confusion. “Where did these come from?”

“The Woodvale Witch, apparently.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispered, turning the stone counterclockwise between her fingers. She took the other one, examining it just as closely. “Be serious, Chase.”

“I am serious,” I said, pulling out more stones. I laid all six of them all out on the desk between her and my backpack. “These were dug up where historians think Evelyn’s witch hut used to stand.”

Meghan’s eyes drifted up to mine, as if waiting for me to laugh and say “gotcha!” When I didn’t, she turned her attention to the stones on the desk, lightly touching a couple of them with her fingertips.

“Do you recognize these symbols?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned around and reached for her notebooks, pulling the old musty one out from the middle. I watched her open it on her lap, flipping toward the back of the journal and turning the last pages slowly to find just the right one. She picked up one of the rocks, holding it beside the page, glancing back and forth between the two. She didn’t utter a word, but her mouth dropped open. I could guess why.

“Let me see,” I said, sliding my butt onto the edge of the desk as I carefully took the journal from her. Just as I expected, there in Fannie’s notebook was the same symbol as the stone in Meghan’s hand. The crisscrossed lines, as random as they seemed, were identical. I’d sort of thought the etchings on the rocks were more like unplanned scribbles, but there were three more symbols on this page matching some of the stones.

It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“I am beyond perplexed right now,” Meghan said, her eyes darting from the stone to the journal again.

“Are you sure you haven’t been carrying around the old witch’s journal this whole time?”

“I’m sure. Fannie signed her name at the bottom of some of her journal entries.”

I scooted closer, reaching across her to pick up another stone. Again, this one’s symbol was identical to one of the jagged, pointy drawings in Fannie’s journal. “Evelyn and Fannie were alive at the same time. Maybe these markings were popular symbols back then.”

“All of them? I doubt it. They’re too unique. Too... random.” Meghan shook her head, moving closer to me to peer over my shoulder at the stone in my hand. “Where were these rocks found, exactly?”

Luckily for her, the guy who found them had provided the exact coordinates. Sean and I had plans to investigate the area someday, but maybe Meghan and I could get to it sooner. “I could show you, if you want to go-”

“Yes,” she said, immediately sliding off the desk. “Let’s go.”

I had to laugh, holding the journal flat against my chest. “Easy, Wednesday. We have other priorities today.”

“Let’s give the candy shop story to Xander and Jill. And nothing else is time sensitive. If anyone asks what we’re doing, we can say it’s for a story.” She was talking a mile a minute, slipping her feet into her shoes. I swallowed, somewhat disappointed she wasn’t wearing the ones with the buckles that day. “How far into the woods is it? Do I need to wear boots?”

I just licked my lips and grinned, letting her take the journal from my hands. “You didn’t look at our shared calendar, did you?” I asked.

Her eyes found mine. “Why? Am I forgetting something?”

“Someone promised they’d accompany me to my tattoo appointment...”

Meghan blinked. “Is that today?”

I looked down at the knees of my worn jeans, almost wishing I hadn’t reminded her. Truthfully, I was having second thoughts, despite Mae’s enthusiasm in our DM exchange. While I loved her concept—a creepy old house with ghosts flying out from the windows—the thought of having my skin pricked repeatedly by a needle was freaking me out. “I could cancel it.”

“What? Why?” she questioned, her whining, disappointed tone making me grin even more. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”

“But I am.”

“It won’t hurt as bad as you think. Where were you planning on getting it?”

“I hadn’t really decided. Was going to ask you what you thought.” I put my hand on my right arm, just below my shoulder. “Maybe here?”

I held my breath as Meghan reached for my arm, her fingers grazing my skin as she pulled my shirt sleeve higher. “No one will ever see it if it’s up here.”

I swallowed. Still perched on that desk, I was at her eye level, and she was standing so close I could smell whatever product she had in her hair. I heard her inhale as her hand dropped lower on my bicep, her fingers pressing just a bit harder into my skin. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was feeling up my muscles. We were both holding our breath, the only sound in the room coming from the still-ticking but inaccurate clock on the wall.

I wanted to touch her, to put my hand on her waist and pull her down to kiss me. But even after all our pleasant interactions as of late, I still feared she’d push me away. Maybe even slap me in the name of self-defense. I kept my hand glued to the desk, choosing instead to make a dumb joke. “I’ll cut off all my sleeves so everyone can see my ink. Especially when I report live.”

Meghan smiled, that dimple on her cheek popping as she stared into my eyes. Lowering her hand on my bicep, she inhaled to speak, but the sound of approaching footsteps distracted us both. Principal Sarah Gardner strolled into the room, followed by Silas Brown, the school superintendent, and another man I didn’t recognize. The four of them looked just as confused to find us there as we were to see them.

Meghan quickly pulled away, stepping back from me like we’d been caught doing something far more scandalous than discussing a tattoo. Principal Gardner’s eyes flickered between us, her eyebrow raising ever so slightly, but Silas was the first to speak.

“Chase, Meghan,” he said, his tone polite but his expression unreadable, “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.” He eyed my still rolled-up sleeve before switching his gaze to the pile of weird rocks on the desk beside me.

I opened my mouth, completely unsure of how to explain this without sounding like a lunatic. But Meghan, always quick on her feet, beat me to it.

“Oh, not at all,” she said, her voice confident. “I’m sure this looks odd, but we’re doing some research for our next story—about the Woodvale Witch.” I blinked, knowing full well that was not part of our plan. But Meghan didn’t even flinch, catching my eye as she lied again. “We thought the town could use something fun and light to read about after all the tornado chaos.”

Damn, she was good.

“I’m sorry, the ‘Woodvale Witch’?” Silas questioned, his brows furrowed in confusion. Having lived in Woodvale for less than a year, it was no surprise he’d never heard of her.

Principal Gardner smiled, turning from Meghan to Silas. “Oh, it’s a Woodvale legend,” she said. I got the impression she could sense the awkward tension between us and Silas. “A woman accused of poisoning her husband was publicly hanged here centuries ago, and rumor has it, her ghost haunts the woods.”

Silas nodded, shifting on his feet like he was bored already. “Interesting,” he said, exchanging a glance with the superintendent, who shrugged.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Sarah turned back to us. “I love your Sunday column, Meghan. I can’t wait to read this one.”

Meghan let out a nervous chuckle, probably coming to the realization she was going to have to actually write this. She uttered a quiet thank you before helping me put all the rocks back in my bag.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” I said, zipping up the backpack. Why these four people would be in this room together confounded me. When Meghan and I got to the hallway, she tucked her hand beneath her bangs, shaking her head at herself, clearly just as embarrassed as I was. “So, what do you think that’s all about?” I asked her on the stairwell.

“I think Grissom’s temporarily relocating here.”

“Really?” That made a lot of sense, actually, and I wasn’t surprised she’d already figured that out. My head immediately filled with questions, like—where would Meghan and I have our meetings now? Would I have to deal with school traffic when I arrived in the mornings? And could I still play basketball (badly) in the old gym to let off steam in the middle of the day? “I wonder whose idea that was. I can’t see Silas offering that up.”

“Mine, actually,” Meghan said, “but I doubt he’ll give me any credit for it. Anyway, are we headed straight to the woods, or are we going to the tattoo parlor first?”

“I don’t know,” I said, pausing on the second landing of the stairwell. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Meghan stopped walking and put a hand on her hip, the sweet smirk on her face indicating she was either going to insult me or flirt with me. The lines tended to blur between the two lately, so I was prepared either way. “What if I let you hold my hand?”

“Okay,” I blurted, like an obedient golden retriever with a treat dangled in front of him. It made Meghan laugh the rest of the way down the stairs, that familiarly sexy cackle slipping through, like she loved how easy I was to manipulate.

I was putty in her hands.