Page 26 of Salem's Fall
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I blink, stunned, my brain lagging. I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
“James,” he breathes, raw with panic. “Say something. Please.”
The shadows shift. A sliver of streetlight catches him just right, revealing his face at last—gorgeous, unmistakable, and seared into my memory. His gaze scans mine, his expression torn between fury and fear.
My jaw drops.
“Damien?”
Salem’s Fall, Massachusetts
Lucky purrs against my pillow, curled into a tight little ball at my head as the early morning light filters through the windows of my room at the Cottage. I lie in bed, my body aching from the events of the night before. I still can’t believe I was attacked on the streets of Salem’s Fall, which is both terrifying and shocking. But even more shocking? Being saved by Damien Blackhollow.
Why is he here?
How did he find me?
Lucky snuggles in closer, as if he knows I’m still a bit rattled. I reach up and scratch him behind the ears, feeling the comfort of his sleek, soft fur under the pads of my fingers. The light vibration of his purring relaxes me.
That is, until my phone blares with an incoming call.
“Woodsen!” Quinn barks, his voice sharp. “What the hell is going on?”
I wince, holding the phone away from my ear.
“Good morning to you too, Quinn,” I say, sitting up in bed. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and squint at the screen. It’s barely 7 a.m. “Everything okay?”
“Blackhollow called me last night. Said you wereattacked.” Quinn’s voice is strained, like he’s been holding back his frustration all night. “What’s wrong with you? I told you to be careful!”
I groan into the phone.
Fucking Damien.
Any gratitude I felt toward the man for the rescue last night vanishes. No doubt, Quinn is going to order me back home immediately, unless I can somehow talk my way out of it.
“It’s fine. I’ve got it under control,” I say, keeping my tone even. “It was nothing. Just a mugging. Damien showed up, and the guy ran off.”
“Just a mugging?Are you insane?” he sputters. “You need to come back to Boston. Now, Woodsen.”
“Listen, Quinn. I’m close to something here,” I say, balling the bed sheets into my fists. “The meeting with Professor Hargrove went great last night. I’ve got some real leads now. Hargrove mentioned a place—Strega’s Hollow—that might be connected to all of this. I need to check it out.”
“Blackhollow said you could’vediedlast night.” Quinn’s frustration is palpable, but I can hear the concern beneath it. “And now I’ve got him in my ear, telling me my junior associate is running around Salem’s Fall, half-cocked, jeopardizing the case—and her own safety—while being targeted by God knows who.”
“I’m not jeopardizing anything!” I snap. “You have to trust me, Quinn. Give me a little credit, please. I’m telling you, if I don’t follow up on this lead, we could be missing something important.”
He’s silent for a beat, and I can tell he’s trying to rein in his emotions.
“Fine,” he says at last, his voice softening a bit. “Strega’s Hollow and then home right after. No more unnecessary risks. Okay, Woodsen?”
“Sure,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back like a little kid, because something in my gut tells me this may be a lie.
I have no idea what I’ll find at Strega’s Hollow, but I have a feeling my work in Salem’s Fall is far from done. There’s something here, I just know it, and I don’t think I’m going to find all the answers in just a few hours.
He sighs into the phone, and I can tell I’m not fooling him. Quinn knows me way too well. It’s a problem.
“James—”
