Burned (Keeper of the Flame Book 1) Read online

  I purse my lips. Most of the witches I’ve met, the true ones that actually draw their power from the elements, aren’t into curses. A witch from Georgia let me see her Book of Shadows once and there wasn’t a lot about curses in there. Mostly just spells that used herbs and elements, stuff from the earth.

  My mother’s book looks a lot like a Book of Shadows. But there’s information in here I’ve never seen before.

  I flip a few pages and see a spell for healing and another for getting a better night of sleep. I mentally mark that page for the future. Another few pages and my hand freezes. There’s a crude drawing at the bottom of the page and next to it, it says, Creatures of the Night.

  I shove my hair behind my ears. Creatures of the night. Does that mean vampires?

  Who believes in vampires anymore? My mother, I guess. But in all my research I’ve never come across any indication that there are real vampires out there. Of course, it didn’t stop me from packing up a wooden stake when I traveled. Just in case.

  I’m nothing if not prepared.

  I want to read the book from front to back, but I have no idea how long I’m going to be here, so I decide on a shower and then a trip to downtown Shadow Hill to find answers.

  My hair is still wet and curled to the middle of my back when I discover downtown is only a block over. I walk instead of driving, taking in the sunshine and thinking it would be really handy right now to have my own Book of Shadows.

  Or a mother who could talk to me about hers. If she would ever stick around long enough to talk to me.

  After getting over my frustration with Ryan, I figured he was probably right. My mother didn’t send the note. I’d known it back in the corner of my mind all along. It was too cryptic and it made no sense for her to lure me here when she could flat out ask me.

  So if someone else sent the note, why? Why do they want me here?

  I’m charmed by the stone entryway to a small building with stained glass windows. It’s like it’s from a different era. I don’t see a sign right away until I step closer to the door, which is propped open with a wagon full of paperbacks.

  It’s a library. Exactly where I want to be.

  Inside, books line shelves all the way to the ceiling. They stretch across counters and lay on round tables by chairs. I fall in love a little before I notice the librarian watching me.

  “Morning,” she says, drawing her glasses off her nose. Her long blonde hair waves away from her face, highlighted like she’s spent a lot of time in the sun. “Something I can help you with?”

  I trace a finger along a shelf, thinking. “Local folklore. Legends, myths, anything supernatural.”

  She lifts her eyebrows.

  “I’m researching,” I tell her. “I freelance for a magazine‒anything paranormal, out of the ordinary. I hear there’s a lot of unusual history in Shadow Hill.”

  She smiles and waves her hand vaguely. “Like most towns.”

  I feel like she’s trying to blow me off. She looks at her cell phone like I interrupted something.

  “Can you point me in the right direction?” I ask. Or do I need to find it myself?

  She smiles again, warmer this time, and points. “Local history is around the corner in the back room.”

  I barely take the time to thank her. She’s probably already on her phone again, texting some local about how the out-of-towner thinks there’s real supernatural history here.

  I know there is. At least where my mom is concerned. But I have no idea what the rest of the town knows about her.

  The room is filled to the brim with books just like the rest of the library. I glance to my right and see stairs. There’s a sign that says Children and Young Adult Downstairs.

  Not bad for a small-town library.

  The first shelf gets me nowhere. But I find some legend on the local mines and remember Logan telling me about the ghost tours. Could be something. I move on, roll my eyes when I see something about a Loch Ness monster and pause when I find a book on the Shadow Hill Hotel. The back cover tells the history, when it was founded, and the tragic death of two of the owners.

  It also says it’s haunted.

  Looks like the motel I picked was the wrong place to stay the night.

  I tuck the book under my arm but freeze when I hear voices in the front of the library. One is the librarian and the other is low and male.

  I’m about to sneak closer to eavesdrop when Ryan appears in the doorway. He props his shoulder on the jamb. “Still here, huh?”

  “Still a dick, huh?”

  He smiles. The stubble is thicker today, tracing his jaw and his upper lip. In the light, I can see his eyes are gray like the sky before a storm and his hair isn’t nearly as dark as I thought.

  He walks closer to me. When I hold my ground, he props his hand on the shelf next to my head and looks at the books in my arms.

  “The Shadow Hill Hotel,” he reads, voice so deep it vibrates in my chest. “Ghosts of the Shadow Hill Mines.” He lifts his head, gaze connecting with mine. “Going gold mining?”

  I point my finger at his chest. “You know what I’m doing here.”

  He captures my hand in his. “Sure. Mother hunting, passing out in the bar and taking in the local history.”

  I try to wiggle my hand from his grasp, but he tightens his grip. “Let go.”

  “I told you to go home.”

  “Last time I checked, this was a free country.”

  A flicker of anger lights his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Looks like a threat to me,” I say, keeping my voice even.

  His gaze drops to my lips and lingers before he leans in close. So close his breath tickles my ear. “Shadow Hill doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for. If you say you’ll leave, I won’t bother you anymore.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Life is going to start getting very difficult.”

  I grit my teeth. “Let go of me.”

  He eases back, but his gaze stays locked with mine. “Say you’ll leave.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “I’m not going to ask again,” Ryan says.

  The fire builds inside of me, shooting straight to my fingertips. In an instant, the books wedged between us go up in flames. I gasp and drop them on the ground. The fire grows and Ryan stamps on the books with his boots.

  I shove around him and run for the door.

  “Hey!” the librarian shouts after me.

  I don’t stop, don’t slow down. I race through the open door and glance back as I hit the last stair.

  Two more steps and I slam into someone’s chest.

  Chapter 3

  The momentum is enough to make me stumble and I hit the cement hard with my palms, scraping them against the rough surface.

  “Willow?”

  A hand closes around my elbow, pulling me up. I swivel and look straight into midnight blue eyes.

  “Logan,” I murmur.

  “Where’s the fire?” he asks, amusement in his voice.

  I point to the library entrance. “In there. I should really go.”

  He looks torn between stopping me from making an escape since I just admitted to a fire, and coming with me.

  “Wait.” He follows me around the corner before he catches my arm again. “Are you running away?”

  “Not from you,” I say, peering around the corner. I wince when I place my hand on the brick wall of the building.

  “You hurt yourself.” Logan grabs my hands. His eyes are glued to the palms, where small beads of blood stain the surface. I see him swallow. “It’s bleeding.”

  His pulse throbs at his neck, and he squeezes my hands and then yanks his eyes away. “We should get this taken care of.”

  “It’s a scratch.”

  He grins. “I’ll help you escape.”

  I hear voices around the corner and escape sounds like a great idea. “Okay.”

  Logan curls his arm around my shou
lder, and I can feel the strength in his muscles. He guides me across the alleyway and two doors down to an independent building. There’s a medical cross on the front above the door.

  He ushers me inside and nods at a man at a desk. “Hey, James.”

  James nods back. “What have we got here?”

  Logan’s eyes flicker to mine with amusement. “A felon.”

  I glare at him although technically it’s true. I did just run away from the scene of a crime. But then, no one can prove I caused the fire. And it was just a few flames. I imagine Ryan and the rude librarian have it under control by now.

  My only regret is that I didn’t get to check out my books.

  “Can we use your first aid kit?” Logan asks.

  “Sure. In the back,” James says.

  I follow Logan to the back of the large room, where there’s a cot next to a few chairs. “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Search and rescue coordination station.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  “Sit,” he says. When I go for one of the chairs, he snags my arm and swings me to the cot. “Here.”

  “Really? I just need a sink to wash my hands.”

  He nudges me onto the cot. “It could get infected.”

  “That’s reaching a little, don’t you think?”

  His smile is dangerous. “You never know.”

  I set my hands in my lap and watch the way the muscles on his back move through his black Henley when he reaches for a first aid kit. I could handle getting rescued like this more often.

  He sits in a chair and scoots it close enough our knees are touching. He places his hand on my knee as he adjusts in his seat, and the warmth sends tingles all the way up my leg.

  “Do you work here?” I ask, distracting myself from his touch.

  “No. I’m actually thinking of opening a business. During the summers, I give tours and hikes and any kind of recreational thing you can think of. For the tourists, basically.” He smiles. “They like to climb those big mountains back there to say they hiked up to fourteen thousand feet, and I take them on the interesting trails. Anyway, if hikers go missing or skiers get buried in an avalanche or something else, they send out rescue missions from here and sometimes I help.”

  “Seems like you’re a good guy to have in an emergency.”

  He holds up antiseptic. “This is going to sting.”

  He sprays it on both palms and I grit my teeth. Then I catch my breath when he leans in, sliding his hand against my cheek and into my hair. “Just give it a minute and the pain will go away.”

  With his gaze so strong and even on mine, I can hardly feel anything. Except for calm.

  His hand tightens on my hair, sending a shock of desire straight to my stomach. “I’m having a hard time not kissing you right now,” he says, breath warm against my lips.

  “I’m having a hard time convincing myself you shouldn’t.”

  He sets his hand on my thigh again. I exhale when he slides it a little farther, glancing toward the front of the building where James is occupied with a phone call.

  “Did you convince yourself yet?” he asks, eyes dropping to my lips.

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat because it doesn’t sound convincing if I can’t even get the words out. “Not this time.”

  Logan drops his chin for a moment, then pulls back. “Probably a good idea. I think you only need one bandage.” He touches his fingertip to the deepest scrape. “Right here.”

  I let him put the bandage on in silence. When he finally does speak, he says, “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re here researching and I’m…” He gives a wicked grin. “Trying to distract you.”

  “What’s life without a little fun?” I ask, standing.

  But I was distracted. And pretty tempted to take a detour wherever Logan wanted me to go. That isn’t going to help me figure out where my mom is or why I’m supposed to be here. And it definitely isn’t safe for him considering my history with getting intimate.

  He invades my space, sliding his hands from my shoulders all the way down my arms to grasp my hands. “I think we should go out.”

  “Go out where?”

  “On a date. Wherever you want.”

  “The Shadow Hill Hotel.”

  I have the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrows lift before his face relaxes into a grin. “I’m not going to say no to that.”

  “For research,” I tell him, stepping back.

  “Always a catch.” He gathers the items to return them to the first aid kit. “I can handle that, though.”

  “I need to get a feel for the place. I might be able to use it in an article.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to look around. Tonight? I could pick you up at six so we have some daylight before dinner in their restaurant.”

  “Dinner?”

  “I want a date, you want to research. I think it’s a good compromise. The wine will help you relax.” He grins. “And make you more open to the spirits.”

  “So you’re saying the hotel is haunted?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think when we get there?”

  I shrug. “It’s a date. I’m at the motel over on Blake. You know it?”

  “Yep. What room?”

  “217.”

  He follows me to the door.

  “You don’t have to walk me out.”

  “You’re not running anymore?”

  I peer outside, scanning the street for Ryan. I don’t see him or the librarian. “All clear.”

  He props his hand on the wall beside me. “You going to tell me what that was all about?”

  I flash a smile. “Maybe after the wine helps me relax.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  I leave and realize I’m holding my breath. Hold me to it. He can say that, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to comply. The last time I let the flames come out, a guy I was dating was trying to take our relationship a little too far. He’d gone to the hospital with severe burns on his arms.

  Getting intimate with someone is a bad idea. I don’t know if something might happen again. I blow out a breath. But this is research. And as long as Logan keeps his distance, I’ll get wine and some information. Not a bad combo in my book.

  #

  Back in my motel room, I shove my hands in my hair and do a slow turn. Something’s wrong. It’s not the door, which was locked just as I left it. It’s not the curtains, which are still open from when I’d whipped them to the side once the Book of Shadows started going through pages on its own.

  My gaze travels to the desk where I’d left the book. There’s nothing there.

  I walk over, touch the spot I left as if that’s magically going to give me answers. Then I duck down to look under the desk. Finally, I do a quick sweep of the room just in case. But I’m not worried the book somehow moved itself to another location. I’m worried someone moved it.

  Or stole it.

  Grabbing my room key, I jog outside, down the stairs and to the front office. There’s a middle-aged man inside reading a familiar UFO magazine. I wrote an article for them once.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  He looks up. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Was there someone in my room today?”

  “The maid probably. Oh, and there’s a crew on site preparing to renovate some rooms in our main building. But they shouldn’t have been in your room.”

  Bullshit. Someone was in there. But I can’t accuse someone if I don’t have proof. I change tactics. “I was thinking about doing some renovations myself. I might have to take a look at their work and talk to whoever’s in charge. Do you know who that would be?”

  “Ahh…” He flips through some papers on his desk, then swivels to a file cabinet behind him. There are more papers on top and he checks them before turning back to me. “Ryan McCord.”

  Ryan. I grit my teeth. I’m not surprised.

  I force a smile. “Thanks.”

>   I walk back to my room, mind racing with scenarios to confront him. Most of which involve setting something on fire. Preferably him.

  If I knew more about my witch history or had a Book of Shadows, I’d do a spell. But a good old-fashioned break-in might have to suffice.

  Chapter 4

  Logan already thinks I’m a felon, so I’m almost tempted to tell him how I think Ryan stole my book and involve him in my crazy scheme to break into Ryan’s house. But logic gets the best of me, and I decide against it.

  Even worse than being a felon is getting caught, and I don’t know Logan well enough yet to believe he’d keep my secret, let alone be my accomplice.

  He picks me up on time, dressed to match my sleeveless black dress. I don’t know why I brought it, but a girl never knows when she’s going to need something fancy. Ghost hunting sometimes requires a specific kind of attire.

  The heels put me closer to Logan’s height, enough that I’m staring at his eyes instead of his lips when I step out the door.

  He smells like the woods, something dark and inviting. Mysterious. It’s hard not to lean in for more.

  Logan scoops his arm around my waist, turning his mouth so it brushes my hair. “I’m rethinking dinner.”

  “Can’t. I’m on assignment.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  He narrows his gaze. “Really? You’re actually writing an article? That wasn’t just a story?”

  I laugh, nudging him away from me. “No. I told you I’m a freelance writer. If I find an angle here, I might have a story. A story means getting paid. And if I plan on staying in Shadow Hill for a while, I need money.”

  “So you’re planning on staying?”

  My heels click on the stairs as we descend to the parking lot. I consider my answer. More than a story, I need to find my mom. I shouldn’t be researching before I find out more about her, but I’m not sure where to look. And talking to Ryan doesn’t seem to be helping.

  “I’m planning on staying long enough to get a story,” I amend. “I don’t know how long that will take.”

  He opens his car door for me and the smell of his cologne follows me inside. I breathe slowly while he walks around to the other side and gets in again, flashing me a smile. My stomach tightens when he reaches for the stick shift and his hand grazes my leg.