Hex on the Beach by Kelley Armstrong

Chapter Four

“Spontaneous combustion,” Hope says. “It’s the only answer.”

Jonathan clears his throat.

“Fine,” Hope says. “Tell us how spontaneous combustion is an urban legend. And then please explain the disappeared girl and the ashes.”

“I don’t have an explanation,” Jonathan says. “But I am quite certain it’s not spontaneous combustion.”

“Spoil sport.”

Aiden looks at Kennedy. “Continue, please.”

“Thank you.” She clears her throat and stretches her bare feet dangerously close to the fire. “Yes, spontaneous combustion was one of the theories. A heavily favored one. This is Unstable after all. There was an entire town symposium five years later on the possibility, with experts and skeptics called in to debate it.”

“What are the other theories?” I ask.

“For the Lakes, the obvious answer was demonic activity. They were convinced that evil forces reduced their daughter to a pile of ash. Like a reverse Lot’s wife and the pillar of salt. Instead of a sinner turned to salt by God, she was an innocent turned to ash by Satan.”

“Because she was so good and innocent that the devil himself rose up to smite her down,” Hope says. “He could not bear to have such goodness in his den of iniquity.”

“Uh-huh,” Marius says. “So spontaneous combustion is starting to look good.”

“Right?” Kennedy says. “No demonic smiting. Almost certainly no spontaneous combustion—sorry, Hope. The last possibility is magic. That’s been the strongest theory. Something magical happened in that barn.”

“Bad magic, though, yes?” Aiden says. “I’m presuming she never turned up?”

“She did not. Someone had to have magically killed her—evaporated her on the spot. Or they disappeared her—a magical kidnapping. The problem with those theories?” She shrugs. “We don’t know any kind of magic that would do this. You can’t curse someone into vanishing from the face of the earth.” She nods to Marius and Aiden. “You can’t give them such bad luck that they vanish.” A glance at me. “Lisa was awake, so dream shaping is out, even if one could do something like trap her in a dream dimension forever.”

“One cannot,” I say firmly.

“Then, while we know a few other magical subtypes, we don’t know all of them. The Olympians each have a power, right?”

I glance at Marius who makes a face. “Yes, and no. We have several powers, and sometimes they overlap. Our progeny get one specific power from us, such as luck working from me. There are also other immortals, from other cultures, but from what we can see, they share our core abilities, which suggests common ancestry at some point. The Olympians aren’t the source of the power. That goes farther back. We come from an unusual family because we’re all immortal and, between us, we possess all the known powers. Is that a fluke? Maybe. Or possibly, well, interbreeding. A genetic abnormality. If you want more on that, speak to Athene. But for what you’re asking, no, none of those powers could make a human either disappear or turn into ash. Nothing remotely like that.”

“Agreed,” I say. “If this is magic, it isn’t any type we’ve ever seen, and that makes it almost a guarantee that it isn’t magic. The ultimate solution is more mundane.” I sip my wine cooler and then say, casually, “What about this milkmaid who disappeared? I hadn’t heard that part of the story. Any potential connection?”

“There is no milkmaid,” Jonathan says.

“Because she disappeared,” Kennedy says, which makes Aiden chuckle. She looks over at us. “What Jonathan is saying is that there is no historical record of the milkmaid. It’s town legend. However, given that it happened before there was a town and therefore no records or newspaper existed, I think we can concede the possibility that it did happen.” She glances at Jonathan. “Yes?”

Jonathan pauses, and I can tell it takes him some effort to nod.

“I will concede the possibility,” he says carefully. “In fact, I will say that I’m quite certain a young female farmhand did disappear. However, I suspect the truth is that she just up and left one day, with nothing remotely suspicious about it. She tired of the work or had another opportunity and snuck out.”

Kennedy flaps a hand. “Yes, yes. Your objections are noted. Now, does anyone want the story?”

Hope waves her hand.

“You already know it,” Kennedy says. “In fact, if I recall correctly, you dressed up as the milkmaid twice for Halloween. Once as a zombie. The second time as a headless milkmaid, despite the fact that is not part of the story.”

“It was your idea!” Hope squawks.

“Oh, right.” Kennedy looks around the group. “Does anyone else want to hear the story?”

“Just tell it, K,” Ani says. “You know you’re going to, whether anyone wants to hear it or not.”

“I’d like to,” Aiden murmurs.

“Thank you.” Kennedy smiles at him and then looks out at us all again. “There was a farm, as I said, where the theater now stands. There weren’t many people in the area, so most of the farm hands were new immigrants. This girl was said to be Irish. A teenager who came to America alone. There were several young women, who all shared a room in the attic of the house. That night, this young woman, whose name is lost but who is locally known as Dolly, suddenly remembered she’d left a candle burning in the barn after the night’s milking or feeding or whatever you do with dairy cows at night. Anyway, she leapt up to run out to the barn. One of the other young women woke and asked what was the matter. Dolly told her and then raced off. This other young woman thought she should go with Dolly but, well, she was snug in her room and not eager to leave. So she watched from the window. She saw Dolly racing across the yard in her white nightgown.”

Something scrapes across the wooden fence, and everyone jumps. Everyone, of course, except Marius, because it takes more than a spooky noise to scare the god of war.

“We all heard that, right?” Hope says.

Kennedy waves a hand. “Just a branch from the neighbor’s yard brushing against the fence.”

“Uh, there are no trees there, K,” Hope says. “Also? No wind.”

“Atmosphere,” Kennedy says. “A little early in my story, but close enough. So Dolly is racing across the yard, with the barn looming in the darkness. She throws open the doors, and the other girl sees her stagger back, hand flying to her mouth as if—”

A rat-a-tat-tat, like a stick being dragged over the fence slats. Marius shakes his head and gets to his feet. Aiden starts to rise, but Marius waves him down and strides over.

“I know someone’s there,” Marius calls. “If you want to join the bonfire, just say so.”

He reaches the fence. It’s six feet high, and he’s about five-eleven. To see over it, he has to boost himself up. But again, god of war, and there’s no way he’s going to hoist himself up a half-foot and dangle there awkwardly. Nope. He grabs the top and swings up to crouch on it like a cat.

Hope claps.

Ani turns to Jonathan. “Can you do that?”

“No, but I can see over the top.”

“I’m guessing no one’s there?” I call.

“Dum-dum-dum,” Hope says.

Marius doesn’t answer. He’s listening and looking, and as his head swivels, I follow it to a spot around the back corner, behind a pergola.

“Nope,” Marius says. “No one there. Must be the non-existent wind.”

Marius hops down and creeps toward the pergola, where he slides into the shadows. A shape moves, but he moves faster, grabbing the intruder and flipping him onto his back.

“Ow,” the intruder says from the ground. “Way to spoil my entrance.”

Hope leaps up. “Rian!”

She runs over as I wince, and I catch Aiden doing the same. Marius helps Rian up, and the young man rises. On his feet, he turns, grinning, and puts his arms out for Hope.

“Surprise.”

“Not the good kind,” I mutter, low enough that only Ani hears it and shoots me a look of agreement.

I don’t dislike Rian. He’s not the kind of young man one can dislike. He’s just, well, he’s trouble, whether he intends it or not, and I’ll be gracious and say that he does not. He’s handsome and charming and wealthy, and he uses it all to full advantage.

Hope is fully ensnared in the tractor beam of his charms, and he loves it. I love it a lot less, as do Ani and Jonathan. Even Kennedy isn’t keen on the pairing, and I can see her casting anxious glances at Hope and then over at Aiden, because having Rian here isn’t only a problem when it comes to her little sister. As Aiden gets to his feet, he’s already tense, the relaxed young man of a few minutes ago evaporating.

Aiden and Rian remind me of Paulo—Apollo—and Denny. The gifted and ultra-successful older brother overshadowing the screw-up younger one. That’s how Denny sees it. For his part, Paulo always feels like the stiff and pompous sibling socially overshadowed by the fun, popular little brother. That is Aiden and Rian, and this is a social situation, meaning with Rian’s arrival, Aiden is already foreseeing the end of what was shaping up to be an enjoyable weekend with new friends.

“I thought you were in Italy,” Hope says, fairly dancing back to the fire as Rian slings his arm around her shoulders.

“I was. Now I am not.”

“Weren’t you there for weekend meetings?” Aiden says.

“I was.” Rian shows his teeth a little. “Now I’m not.”

When Aiden tenses, Rian walks over and slaps him on the back. “Relax. I rescheduled them. No one wants to work on the weekend.”

Aiden seems ready to argue, and then rolls his shoulders and murmurs, “None of my concern either way.”

“Nope, because you escaped the family business, and I have not.”

“Rian,” Kennedy says. “This is a surprise. Welcome to Unstable.” She puts out a hand to shake his, but he pulls her into a hug instead. Kennedy allows it for one second before putting her hands on his shoulders and backing him up. “I wish we’d known you were coming.”

“That would spoil the surprise.”

“Yes,” Aiden says. “But when one is joining a party—” He bites off the rest, as if realizing he sounds pompous, even when he only means to clarify Kennedy’s gentle point, that an added guest may be an inconvenience. “Well, it’s nice to have you for the evening. I’m sure you’ll be going back to Boston tonight, perhaps returning to join in the local festivities tomorrow.”

“Join in the local festivities?” Rian says with a laugh. He affects a British accent. “I say, old chap, you make it sound positively provincial.”

I resist the urge to grind my teeth and lay a hand on Rian’s arm. “Now, now, no need to snipe at Aiden when he was extending an invitation to join his weekend plans.”

Rian has the grace to hesitate at that. The boy isn’t stupid. Nor would he intentionally spoil Aiden’s weekend. He just doesn’t think things through.

“Right,” Rian says. “I didn’t mean to party crash.”

“You haven’t,” Hope says. “There’s plenty of room. It’s a big house.”

Ani clears her throat. “Not that big. The beds are full.”

“Mine isn’t,” Hope says. She lifts her hands. “Joking.” She turns to Rian. “There’s a pullout couch, if you don’t mind that.”

“I do not mind at all. I’ve slept on a couch or two in my time. A floor or two. A jail cell or two . . .”

“Well, a jail cell is where you’ll end up if I catch you creeping into Hope’s room,” Kennedy says.

“Kennedy!” Hope says. “I’m twenty.”

Kennedy looks around. “Well, since my story seems to have been ruined.” A mock glare at Rian. “I’m going to suggest that we head inside. It’s almost midnight, and I need to be at the shop by eight for the final shipment.”

“Breakfast will be at seven, then,” Ani says. She pauses, and I can see her mentally calculating whether she has enough chairs and food, now that Rian is here.

“I’ll swing by early,” Jonathan says. “I’ll stop at the bakery first and bring a few extra pastries.”

“And you don’t need to worry about me,” Rian says. “I’m never up before noon.”

“Well, you will be tomorrow,” I say. “If you’re staying, Kennedy could use your help moving that last shipment.” I pause. “Perhaps you’d rather head back to Boston after all? So you can sleep in?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He puts his arm around Hope’s shoulders, and they head into the house, chattering away.