It was built over a century ago and had been passed down through generations. Though she’d been well maintained, the last owner, the great-great-granddaughter of the builder, had to give it up due to her health. She had no children to pass it down to, and the house had been empty for nearly a decade. My real estate agent had been reluctant to show me the home due to the story behind it. The prior owner, Charlotte Roseann, had been a bit of an outsider, and during the sixties, she was rumored to be a witch. Instead of being scared away, I admired her, and when I saw the house, I fell in love.
But I wouldn’t be able to keep the damn thing if I didn’t have a job.
Would Margie fire me if I refused to take Felix’s position?
Would I be shunned?
Would she hate me forever?
As I made the final turn on my commute, the heavens opened. Heavy raindrops pelted against my windshield, and I let my head fall back against the headrest, a tired sigh leaving me. Baddays were to be expected. Not everyone could have a perfect life. However, bad days always seemed to come at the exact time you didn’t have the strength to deal with them. As if it were some test from the “powers that be.” It made no sense to me.
“The sky couldn’t wait for me to get home?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
The only answer I got was the change of songs, and I took it as a sign to let the music consume me. When I was half a mile away from home, ready to wash the day off, the front left side of my car jolted.
“Oh my god!” I screeched, scrambling to take control as my car lost traction, the back half of it fishtailing. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and forced it back straight, taking my foot of the gas. The rain was pouring down now. I couldn’t see anything. “Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die!” I turned the wheel to the right, aiming for the shoulder, my eyes on the yellow line.
I missed the shoulder, heading straight for the daffodil ditch I passed every day. The front half of the car did a nosedive and crashed. I was propelled toward the steering wheel, and everything went black.
“Angel!” a deep voice boomed.
Warm.
Oh, how warm that voice was. Rough and maybe scary at times, but always warm. More warmth surrounded me, touching me, moving me, shifting the deepest parts of me. I was cocooned then, cradled, taken care of.
“Oh god, please,” the voice rasped, the words hitting my face. “I can’t lose you. Not again. Please.”
There was a pounding in my head now, persistent and growing in intensity with each throb. I needed more warmth. I reached out, seeking it, needing it. A hand found mine, taking a strong hold as the faint but familiar sound of a heartbeat came through. Right by my ear, by the wall of warmth.
“I need to see your golden eyes, Angel,” the rough voice said, trembling at the end of my name. “Give me that. Give me your eyes. Let me see, and I’ll go back into the shadows. I’ll do what you asked.” A raindrop hit my cheek, but it wasn’t cold.
It was hot.
Raindrops were never hot.
Slowly, I forced my eyelids open, ignoring the pain in my head. There was a light far off, behind the mountain of warmth—a man. In my heart, I knew who it was. Who’d come to save me for the second time.
“Warm,” I murmured weakly. “You’re so warm.”
His shoulders began to shake, and in turn, shook me. He whispered a thank-you, but it wasn’t for me. All I wanted was to close my eyes again.
“Jesus, you’re shivering,” he pushed out. “I have to get you out of the rain.”
Ash.
Though my eyes hadn’t revealed the truth to me, my soul took liberty.
He was back.
“Stay with me,” he begged, breathless and scared. “I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
But it was too late. I was drifting off again. I needed to be far away from him. Though he never made me shiver; he was too dangerous. He was the past, and I needed to let go of it. Of him.
Chapter Six
Ash
“Tell me again how you found her,” Margo ordered, her voice filled with uncertainty.
