Austin sighed softly, then took a bottle of wine from the box he carried. He handed it to me. “You’re going to need this. Call me if there are any problems with the hired help.”
He was starting to sound like Niamh. I supposed Mr. Tom could bring that out in people. “Just the one?”
He didn’t grin like I’d expected him to. His face was bathed in shadow, so I couldn’t confirm my hunch that his eyes had turned haunted. “One is plenty for you. I’ll need…significantly more.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Austin Steele, with the visitors we had last night, and the ones who are likely to come…keeping a focused mind might be the best thing for you,” Mr. Tom said.
“I do mind you saying so, actually.” He strutted toward Mr. Tom, his shoulders straight and his head held high. Mr. Tom wisely ducked out of the way. “I need a night off.”
“Okay, well…just think about it,” Mr. Tom called after him.
“Who were those people last night?” I opened the door. “And how can this house force people out? I get that it has magic, kinda, but…well, what could it actually do?”
Mr. Tom shrugged. “I don’t know—I’ve never felt it. I’ve always felt welcomed. But I’ve seen plenty of people go running out of here, so there must be some feeling of repulsion. It’s very strange that Austin Steele didn’t feel it—or maybe he did and didn’t want you to see him run like a coward? He’s very guarded about how people perceive him—oh bloody… Hurry, get into the house. That horrible woman is back from the bar. She’ll be all curses and put downs. She really is very trying.”
Once in the house, he took the wine from me and directed me to the kitchen.
“Are you hungry? Do you want dessert?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
He sat me at the small table and poured me a glass of wine before sitting opposite me. “Listen, Miss, Austin Steele is a great man. He has done a lot for this town. He has some very good reasons for wanting to keep the magic confined in Ivy House. But ultimately, he has an agenda. He has created this town as he envisioned it. He is an alpha—he can be very shortsighted when it comes to other people’s visions. Ivy House is speaking to you. The magic is calling you. It would be a travesty to ignore it.”
I stood, suddenly exhausted. “I hear you M—Tom. I understand what you’re saying. I think I’ll just turn in now.”
“Of course. Yes.” He stood and bowed. “It has been a big day. Lots of new ideas.”
I hesitated as I turned to leave. “Who were those people last night? You never said.”
“In Jane terms, those guys worked for one of the major mob bosses. If that boss wants to own this town, there is nothing Austin Steele could do about it.”
I sat at the table in my room not long afterward, letting the sweet air drift in through the windows, and thought about the situation before me. A situation right out of storybooks.
I felt like I was in my own twisted sort of fairy tale, only instead of the handsome prince, I had a geriatric gargoyle. Despite all the messed-up things afoot, I was pretty sure I’d traded up.
I could become magical!
Which was the part my mind really couldn’t compute.
This sort of stuff didn’t happen to me. I’d married young and spent the last twenty years being a wife and mother. My idea of a crazy, reckless adventure had been changing towns without a plan.
I blew out a breath, staring out at the labyrinth, the hedge leaves shining in the moonlight as though they’d just been waxed.
If everything I’d been told today was true, I had to assume everyone had an agenda. Austin had seemed genuinely supportive toward the end, but he’d been drinking. Mr. Tom was right—he had a vision for this town, and he wouldn’t want to see me tarnish it, no matter how much he’d waxed poetic.
That being said, Mr. Tom wasn’t any better. If the magic would act as his fountain of youth, of course he wanted to activate it. Who wouldn’t?
Me.
My heart sank, the sentiments I’d shared with Austin rising to the surface, along with his response.
Stop being ignored. Raise your voice until you are heard. Look however you want—be whoever you want—and demand people pay attention to you.
“That easy, huh?” I whispered.
Magic wouldn’t solve my problems. Even if it was real and this town wasn’t playing an elaborate, special-effects-laden game of “make fun of the tourist,” it wouldn’t make me feel good about being me. It would make me a different me. How could I stand up to people’s prejudices about middle age if I no longer looked middle-aged? Because I knew this was a fight worth having, if not for myself, then for the younger generation.
No matter what happened, I didn’t want to forsake who I’d become or the battle it had taken to get there.
I sat there for a while longer, letting the blissful night wash over me. The last thing Mr. Tom said, right before I’d left the kitchen, rolled through my head and sent nervous shivers racing through me.
If that boss wants to own this town, there is nothing Austin Steele could do to stop it.
Hopefully this was all some elaborate joke, because if Austin couldn’t stop it…someone would have to.
Twenty-Three
I awoke with a jolt, half expecting Mr. Tom to be standing over me like he’d done every other morning. But it wasn’t morning.
Deep night blanketed the windows. The room around me lay quiet, the silence stretching into the rest of the house.
A presence prowled the grounds.
I didn’t know how I knew, I just did. A stranger tread on the property, someone who didn’t belong. Not a kid up to mischief or a drunk night hiker who had taken a wrong turn, either. This intruder had an aura of danger. My absolute conviction sent my heart racing.
I dropped my head to the side where my phone perched in its charging dock. Austin lay through that technological portal, a big bad alpha who liked to secure his territory. He’d made that perfectly clear.
Except, for some reason, this house was not in his territory. That was the impression I’d gotten from his exchanges with Mr. Tom, at any rate. It was like this house was a sovereign nation, an island within the rest of the town.
The cops would help. They didn’t have to know about the magical stuff to respond to a prowler.
Right?
I pulled the covers away from my feet.
It was probably wise to check for a prowler before calling anyone. It wasn’t likely the police would believe me if I said I felt a prowler out there somewhere. They’d think I was cracked. And if they knew what house I was calling from, they’d be sure of it.
My fingertips tingling with fear, I edged over to the windows and looked out across the grounds. Branches lightly swayed in the breeze, their leaves moving like little bells. Moonlight sprinkled the ground.
If there was an intruder, he or she wasn’t visible from my window.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, imagining the magic was real, and I could use it to sense the location of the intruder. Almost immediately my sixth sense grew, pointing me to the side of the house, coming around the front.
“God, I hope I’m cracking up,” I said, my heart lodging in my throat, nearly choking me with fear. “I really hope I’m having a nightmare. Why did I want to head out on an adventure, anyway? I should’ve just gotten a few cats and stayed put. If someone breaks in here, I wonder if Mr. Tom can use that third story trap door and fly me out of here.”
An ah-ha! light flashed in my brain. That must’ve been the purpose for the trap door. An escape route for fliers.
Heart rampaging in my chest and limbs shaking, I hastily put on athletic sweats and stuffed my phone into my zippered pocket. I lightly jogged out the door and down the hall. My muscles screamed in protest, the soreness from my run a couple days ago stiffening my legs.
My knees cracked as I ran up the stairs to the third floor heading to the attic. Stupid old joints. That was one thing I would like to fix with a fountain of youth.
In the attic, I grabbed a crossbow and some arrows. While there, I picked up a spear just in case. I had no idea how to use a crossbow, but I did know how to jab someone with a long stick. It would do in a bind.
Heading back down the stairs, my ankles now crackling like pop rocks, I started compiling a checklist for the fountain of youth. By the time I reached the top of the stairwell leading down to the first floor, the presence felt like it was nearing the front door, its fast pace now slowing. Its goal was clearly the front stoop.
Why would a burglar come around to the front? And if the intruder wasn’t a burglar, what were they here for?
Last night flashed through my mind.
“You are able to sense the greater—”
I jumped, started to scream, and clamped a hand over my mouth to stop the sound from escaping. The crossbow thunked against the ground.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, miss,” Mr. Tom said from right behind me. He bent to grab the crossbow. “I thought maybe you would’ve felt me coming. Obviously you couldn’t have heard me, what with all your thumping around. You sound like a stampede of giraffes going up and down the stairs.”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Tom,” I said dryly, peeking around the corner and down at the front door.