Page 38 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

With no car, no cell to call Adam or Cass for a ride, a missing mother, and no wallet for a bus, I pull the hood over my messy hair and begin my trek home. The dread of going back to the house that will never feel the same again relentlessly coils in my gut. Today is going to be a long fucking day.

Chapter 20

Aleric

I'm the firstto wake out of my brothers, which means I'm the first to know that something isn't right. The atmosphere in the apartment feels off, like the life has been sucked right out of it. There was an unusual feeling in the apartment all night, likely because there was another body living with us for a temporary amount of time, but that feeling is long gone.

The apartment suddenly feels strangely empty, the comfort of knowing Willow is here and safe simplygone. She wouldn't have... Would she...?

I sit up in bed and look around. The sky is light, and there's a steady downpour of rain strumming at the windows. Micah is still fast asleep on the daybed on the other side of the room, one arm slung atop the pillow that's over his face, the other hanging off the bed. I shake my head, wondering how the hell he can sleep like that, before getting up and quietly leaving the room to let him sleep a little longer.

Once in the hallway, the feeling that something isn't quite right grows stronger. My beast stirs, already growing restless. Bishop's door is still shut tight, and the sound of his snoring sneaks out from under the small gap between the door and the floor. The bathroom is vacant, the door wide open. I move further down the hallway and come to a stop.

Micah's bedroom door is open enough for me to see the ruffled and very empty bed from where I stand. That shitty feeling grows, and my gaze scans the living room, finding it as empty as Micah's room. Then, when my eyes dart to the front door where Micah dropped Willow's bag, my heart practically falls to my ass. It's gone. And so is the Devil’s daughter.

Fuck my morning.

Dropping my head back in exasperation, I figure the only option I have is to go looking for the woman who's making my life difficult right now. We have one job. Protect Willow Devall at all cost. Can't fucking do that if the pain in the ass isn't here to look after. We've already failed once. I'm not doing it again, especially not with the very real threat the Devil has hanging over our heads. It’s not like the beast inside me would let me fail, anyway. That traitorous bastard seems to have taken an extreme liking to our ward, and now I’m suffering for it.

"Damn woman. Damn this entire thing. Damn me having to go out in the shitting rain," I grumble even as I walk back to my room, grab my sneakers, and shove my feet into them roughly. Since I'm already in sweatpants and a shirt, I don't bother changing. My mission is to find Willow, drag her back to the apartment, and sit us all down to have a long talk about what the hell is going on. That won't take long at all since I know every hangout spot Willow goes to. Why would she bother changing?

My movements are rushed but quiet, causing Micah to stir a little though he remains asleep. I head back out to the living room, searching for my jacket. When I reach the recliner, I find it missing. I know I put it on the arm on the chair, so where the hell is it? Bishop and Micah know not to touch my stuff.

That little thief.

Shaking my head, I snatch Bishop's car keys off the table and go out into the rain, rushing toward Bishop's car before I get thoroughly drenched. I can't believe she took my jacket. Unbelievable. I like that jacket, too.

As soon as I'm seated in the driver's seat, I start thinking of all the places she could be. The blinking clock on the dash of the car tells me it's just past eight o'clock in the morning. I have no idea what time she left, so she could be at any of her hangouts at this point. I mull it over and decide to start at the obvious. Her house.

I drive to the ruined bungalow and find the door haphazardly placed back where it's supposed to be. Parking quickly, I climb out of the car and rush through the rain to the front door. I go to open it, thinking it'll give way easily, only... it's locked.

Are you kidding me?

She found the time to stick the door back, albeit a little wonkily, and managed to lock the fucking door? I turn around, swiping the rain from my face, and find her car is missing too. Why is this my morning right now?

Growling deeply in my chest with frustration, my beast growing as agitated as me, I jog back to the car. The chances of not being soaked by the rain are now nothing more than a fond, distant hope. My blond hair is plastered to my face, strands hanging in my eye in a way that's soon going to really piss me off. I shake my head, flinging the wet strands to the side with the hope that it'll stay out of my face for at least a little while until I can fix it.

I drive around a little more, heading to the café I know she frequents, the house that belongs to the best friend, the library. Nothing. Not a damn sign of her. I drive by Cassie Monroe's house but don't spot Willow's car. I even go as far as to check the grocery stores, uselessly hoping she decided a bit of food shopping might clear her head or something. Nada. It's like she's disappeared with a badly fixed door as the only trace that she's even been in Salem.

Sitting in the car, I try to think of any other place she would be in this small town. I mean, there aren't very many places to go, and the majority of them are places Willow wouldn't go anyway. I decide to drive around, cruising the streets as I search for her or her car.

I’m pretty sure I drive for an hour, searching yet finding nothing. It's not until I reach a well looked after warehouse far from any houses in the area that a small feeling in my gut tells me I should check, my beast perking up instantly. That asshole.

I don't even know what draws me to it. It's in a nice area just inside the limits of Salem, surrounded by trees and greenery without another building in sight. The place looks like it's been well kept, with the windows lining the top of the building, both in pristine condition. Why didn't I know this was here? My brothers and I looked over every inch of Salem when we got here, scoured maps of all sorts. Yet here the building stands as though it's always been a part of the town.

I park just as the rain tapers off, luck finally shining down on me after this crap morning I've had to endure. As soon as I get out of the car, I hear loud music pouring from the open metal door that's been slid to the side to create a pretty big entryway. I know that music. I've listened to it since I found out what Willow's favorites are.

Why is she all the way out here? And what the hell is this building?

I walk toward the warehouse, spotting the little black car I've been looking for tucked away in the gravel drive on the side of the building. The closer I get, the louder the soft voice of Fleurie pours from the door. That's definitely Willow.

Moving closer to the door, I slip inside the large warehouse before coming to an abrupt halt. That saying 'looks can be deceiving' couldn't be any more accurate for this place. Although the outside is well kept and maintained, the inside is insane. All modern and minimalist, white-painted walls holding stunning monochrome artwork framed in lines. There's a set of black metal stairs that leads to an open balcony area that spans the left side of the building. Underneath the balcony are beautiful displays of art, from paintings and sketches to the odd sculpture here or there. Everything meshes perfectly, and it's not a hard guess to assume I've found myself in an art studio.

How the hell didn't we know about this place?

I walk further into the room, my steps drowned out by the music blaring from the space upstairs. Looking around, I study the shocking beauty of the pieces that take up the entire downstairs like an exhibition. The sculptures are of faceless children holding balloons or sitting on a bench. The monochrome artwork on the wall shows a woman crying in various positions, the tears on her face a stark contrast to most of the picture.

It's the drawn art that grabs my attention the most, however. There are five frames in total, and the woman depicted in each one looks just like the raven-haired woman upstairs. As the drawings progress, they change. They still look like Willow, but there's something darker about them, a sharpening of her cheekbones, an intensity to her eyes. It's as if she's perfectly captured what she's going through.

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