Arcanum (Tales from the Tarot)

20. Greyson

Chapter twenty

Greyson

T he beginning of October blew in with a vengeance. The leaves changed color overnight, morphing from golden yellows to blazing red and orange, everywhere you looked. Whatever warmth had lingered through September’s shortened days disappeared into frosty mornings, crisp afternoons, and cold nights.

My nascent relationship with Chris was the only real highlight, even if we had yet to label it as anything so serious as that. I suppose we should have discussed it, for clarity’s sake, but it never came up in explicit terms and I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to push. I was going to let things unfold as the universe—and Chris—saw fit.

But considering we spent a lot of time together when neither of us was working and the rest of the time talking on the phone (Monica had been right about that—Chris wasn’t huge on texting because he didn’t want anything in his private life to be subpoenaed for court), it was fairly safe to say we’d moved into relationship territory.

He even gave me a drawer at his place, never mind the fact I had an entire house, literally next door, that I could run home to and get whatever I needed.

“I, um, cleared this out,” he said one afternoon, sliding the drawer in question open partway.

Reaching in, I pulled out a stray sock and raised my eyebrows at him.

“Oh, shit.” He snatched the sock and stuffed it into the drawer above. “Sorry. Now it’s clear.”

“Don’t want my socks mingling with your socks?”

“No. Shit. Not ‘no’ no. Just—” He expelled a breath and put his hands on his hips, looking skyward for a moment to collect his thoughts. “You have fancy socks,” he said at last, returning his gaze to mine. “I have whatever twelve-pack is on sale. So if you want your fancy socks to slum with my box-store socks, then by all means.”

“My fancy socks and I thank you for your hospitality.” I bit back a laugh at how flustered he was getting. I didn’t think it would ever get old, watching him blush and trip over his words, or feeling that nervous flutter that emanated from him whenever he made an effort for me.

Most of the time he seemed content with how things were, but I sensed he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me to find some fault in him. Each tiny milestone was met with a combination of hope and fear of rejection. Whenever I got an inkling that he was doubting himself, I made sure I was quick to praise him, but not too much, because that aroused his suspicion. As long as I was happy, he was happy, almost like he could intuit my emotions in return.

“I have some hangers, too,” Chris said quickly, marching over to the closet and opening the door to show off the empty space. “And you can borrow whatever you need. Really. You don’t have to keep running home if you don’t want to. I mean, if you want to, that’s cool too. I just… wanted you to have the option.” His nerves spun like a little cyclone and he swallowed hard, flashing a small smile before averting his gaze to stare at the uniforms hanging in the closet and the space right next to them, the space he’d designated for me .

“I’ve never had a drawer at someone’s house before,” I said, walking forward slowly, closing the gap between us. “Let alone a third of a closet.”

He grimaced, heart hammering. “Too fast?”

I shook my head, giving him a reassuring smile. “I can’t wait to bring some of my fancy socks over. Maybe even a toothbrush.”

“Whoa.” Planting his hand in the center of my chest, he gave me some resistance when I leaned up, trying to kiss him. “No one said anything about a toothbrush.”

Giving him a faux scowl, I folded my arms over my chest. “So you’re ok with our socks cohabitating but a spare toothbrush is going too far?”

“Yeah. Because first, it’s the toothbrush. Then it’s a comb. Then your fancy schmancy shampoo. And soap and God knows what else you use to smell so damn good all the time. And before you know it, I have no space in the bathroom for deodorant or the three other things that take care of my hygiene needs.”

“Speaking of shampoo, you do know there’s this stuff called conditioner, right?”

“Why would I have two separate bottles cluttering up the shower when one does both jobs? Says so right there on the label. Two-in-one.”

My scowl broke and I caved with a laugh. “There’s so much to teach you.”

He grinned and grabbed me by the hips, yanking me against him. “Is this the part where you pretend to be the teacher and I’m the student begging you for extra credit so I don’t get kicked off of the football team?”

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck, brushing my lips against his teasingly. “Class is in session.”

I did, in fact, bring a toothbrush over the next time I stayed the night, along with a change of clothes and one set of pajamas. He might have offered the space with complete sincerity, but I didn’t want him to think I was on the verge of moving in. Aside from not wanting to scare him a la Monica, I also didn’t want to jinx our newfound happiness.

For while we were happy, the negative continued to pile up in the rest of my life. As the weeks wore on, Don’s emails became increasingly vicious, so much so that Beatrice thought I should report them to Mapleton PD. I didn’t. Instead, I parroted what one of the other police departments told me, that no matter how vile the emails were, they didn’t constitute a threat under the law because there was no immediate concern. Don didn’t know where I lived, therefore I wasn’t in any danger of him being able to carry anything out. Until I could prove that he knew where I lived and that he had the means to not only get to me but to enact whatever he said he was going to do, there was nothing legally the police could do except document it and maybe call and tell him to knock it off. The last part depended on the officer and how helpful they felt like being.

And if being told daily, in a hundred different ways, what a disgusting piece of shit I was and that I should do the world a favor by dying wasn’t enough stress, Karen Carlisle continued her ridiculous protest outside Arcanum. She and her horde drove away what business I might have had, which meant I was blowing through my savings at a much faster rate than I’d anticipated.

Even though I’d been cleared on the suspicion of murder in Chicago, probate court for my parents’ estates was still dragging on, as was the attempt to sell their house, so I couldn’t expect a cash windfall any time soon. Arcanum was all I had. I had to make it work.

Even if no one was there to appreciate it, I focused my efforts on transforming the store into a Halloween wonderland. Decorating the front window with skulls and pumpkins and fake crows, I strung up garlands of faux leaves and twinkle lights. I also set up a new display next to the register, highlighting horror and paranormal books for spooky season.

The phone rang just as I’d finished with the Halloween makeover.

“Thank you for calling Arcanum,” I said, closing my eyes and praying it wasn’t Terry Williams again, asking for another quote. I’d certainly give him one, though it wouldn’t be fit to print. “How may I help you?”

“Is Jackson there?!” a frantic female shrieked.

“Amanda?” I clarified, looking out the front window for any sign of the boy. “No, I don’t see him.” I hurried to the front of the store and stepped outside, ignoring Karen and her circle of vultures with their poster boards and absurd chant. Scanning the street, I covered my ear to hear better.

“I don’t know where he is!” Amanda wailed. “He’s been gone for over a half hour!”

“Have you called the police?”

“No!”

“You should—”

“I’m not calling them!”

“Do you want to find your son or not?” I lowered my hand, suddenly aware that Karen and her cronies had gone eerily quiet. They stared at me with wide eyes, whispering amongst themselves. I glared at the gawkers and darted back into the store to finish the conversation. “They can organize a search faster than you can.”

“They’ll take him away from me!”

“They won’t. Amanda, you know they won’t. These things happen. But every minute that goes by is crucial. You have to call them.”

“I have to go look for my son!”

“ I will look for him. You stay at the house and wait for the police. Double-check his room and everywhere else he likes to hide. I know,” I said loudly, over the top of her protest. “I know you’ve checked the house. Check again. Really check. Closets. Under beds. Inside the dryer. I’m leaving the store right now and I will check around town for him. Ok?”

She sobbed and spit out an, “Ok.”

“Ok. Hang up and call the police!”

I didn’t wait for confirmation. Disconnecting, I marched right out the front door, not even bothering to lock it behind me.

Karen hadn’t resumed her chant. She and the others watched me suspiciously as I headed down the sidewalk, checking the side streets for any sign of the boy. I suppose a better person would have enlisted her help and given her loud mouth something useful to do for a change, but I had a feeling she’d only make the situation worse. While the police wouldn’t take Jackson away from his mother, I imagined that Karen would shout about it nonstop, demanding that they did. Amanda didn’t need that sort of stress.

As I walked, recalling what little I knew about the boy and what emotions I’d been able to pick up from him, a horrifying thought struck me.

Dogwood Park. The pond.

While I wasn’t privy to any official diagnosis, I assumed Jackson fell somewhere on the Autism spectrum. Part of my training to become a teacher had been a unit on special needs and they’d told us the ghastly statistic that autistic children were one hundred and sixty times more likely to drown than neurotypical children. And given the large percentage who wandered off, like Jackson… that was a lot of drownings.

As soon as the thought formed in my mind, I took off for Dogwood Park at a sprint. It wasn’t too far from Arcanum. Nothing in Mapleton was “too far” from anything—a blessing and a curse in a small town.

Given the relatively early hour of the day, the park was deserted. Except for a few ducks floating on the top of the water, no one was there.

I scanned the perimeter of the pond and all of the benches, looking to see if he was lying or crouched by any of them. Nothing. With a relieved sigh, I turned to go.

A small splash caused me to whip around again, scanning the water. I zeroed in on the ripples, waiting to see if it was a fish or maybe a turtle.

In the center of the drifting leaves, barely visible, was a small hand.

“Jackson!”

I ran to the edge of the pond and jumped in as far as I could, scaring the ducks. They took off with agitated quacks and flapping wings as I sloshed through the water, sinking deeper into the mud with each step.

Grabbing the boy, I flipped him onto his back and dragged his limp body to the shore.

Hauling him out of the water, I laid him out on the cold ground and checked his neck for a pulse. Nothing. I swore under my breath and started CPR.

Excited barking echoed in the distance, along with men shouting to one another. It all sounded very official but I couldn’t stop to tell them I’d found the boy they were looking for. Hopefully one of them would have the same idea as me and come check the pond for themselves.

Jackson coughed suddenly and sputtered, a wave of water spilling out of his mouth.

“You’re ok,” I said, sitting him up and rubbing his cold, wet arms. “You’re going to be ok, Jackson. Your mom will be here soon.”

His wide eyes darted around, welling with tears and droplets of pond water, his face scrunching in preparation to scream.

“Look,” I said, slipping into my pocket and concentrating as hard as I could on the mental image of a lump of pyrite. Within moments, the hard, rough mineral appeared in my hand. I withdrew it and angled it in the sunlight, making it glitter to capture Jackson’s interest. “It’s called Fool’s Gold or pyrite. Pretty cool, huh?”

He snuffled and reached for the crystal, turning it between his fingers like I had to see the different sides sparkle.

“It’ll bring you good luck,” I said with a smile, relieved he’d stopped crying for the time being. It wasn’t a simple bribe, either. Pyrite was reputed to be good for the circulatory and respiratory systems, which definitely couldn’t hurt after a near-fatal drowning.

The barking grew louder, along with a distinct metal jangling. Keys and handcuffs. Sounds I’d become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks, along with the surge of protective energy I’d recognize anywhere.

I looked up as Chris, in uniform, and Nitro crested the hill. “Grey!” As soon as he saw us, they started running.

“He’s alright!” I called back.

Chris said something into his radio and gave Nitro a command in German, tossing him a rope toy. The dog sat promptly and started chewing. Chris dropped to his knees next to Jackson, scanning him from head to toe. “Are you guys ok?”

Naturally, Jackson didn’t answer, nor did he look away from the pyrite.

“We’re fine,” I said with a smile, squeezing his hand affectionately as he reached for me. “Aren’t we, Jackson?”

“What are you doing here?” Chris asked with more than a twinge of confusion curling around him.

“His mother called, asking if I’d seen him. I offered to look for him and found him here.”

“You know each other?”

“He’s one of my most loyal patrons.”

“I meant his mother, but—” Chris paused, clearly listening to his earpiece. After a moment, he tipped his mouth toward the microphone on his chest. “He’s conscious and breathing. Have the ambulance meet us at Dogwood Park. Looks like he fell in the pond.”

“I forgot you said you were working this morning,” I said, gesturing to Chris’s uniform. “If I’d remembered, I would have called you directly.”

He made a face. “Locker searches at the school. Very exciting. Everything I dreamed of when I signed up to be a K9.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“If you mean a moldy ham sandwich and a bag of oregano they’re trying to pass off as weed, then yeah.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “But that was the middle school. I expect we’ll find more at the high school.”

An ambulance chirped their siren a couple of times to signal Chris as they pulled into the gravel parking area for Dogwood Park. He got to his feet and helped Jackson up before offering me a hand. I took it with a small smile and let him pull me into a standing position.

“Let’s go find your mom, buddy,” Chris said to Jackson, steering him up the hill toward the ambulance. He waved his hand at Nitro and the dog trotted obediently next to him, dragging his leash and chewing on his raggedy rope, tail swishing excitedly.

Without knowing what I was supposed to do, I trailed after them, rubbing my arms briskly against the cold air.

Unfortunately, a small crowd had gathered in front of the park, gawking at the collection of police cars and fire trucks.

Amanda sprinted up to Chris and Jackson at the back of the ambulance, throwing her arms around her son and squeezing him so tightly I doubted the boy was able to breathe. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she kissed him all over his face, despite his growing whines and agitated hand flapping.

“Good save, man,” one of the officers said to Chris, clapping him on the shoulder. Edwards, if I remembered correctly.

“Greyson found him, not me.” Chris smiled wide enough to make his dimples appear as he turned to me, unfiltered admiration on his face.

“Right place, right time,” I replied. As much as I appreciated his praise (and his dimples), I couldn’t help but glance over at the growing crowd and the raised voices coming from the sidewalk.

“I am telling you, chief, he is behind this!” Karen Carlisle shrieked. Before she even pointed at me, I knew I was the “he” in question. “He threatened that poor woman on the phone! We all heard him just a few moments ago! I bet he dragged that little boy down here for a Satanic ritual and God knows what else.” She clutched her pumpkin brooch, scandalized more by her imagination than anything I’d ever remotely consider doing.

The chief of police let out a deep sigh, putting his hands up like he could stop her from spewing any more nonsense.

“You read the article!” she crowed, turning to those closest to her for backup. “You all did! You know what he is! We don’t need those kinds of people here in our town!”

Chris took a step in her direction, his hands clenched at his sides. I grabbed his bicep before he said anything that would get him suspended—or worse. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Give it a goddamn rest already, Karen,” a gruff voice said from the cluster of cops. It wasn’t any of the ones in uniform, though. It was an elderly man, wearing a flannel shirt and faded blue jeans. While he may have looked like any of the other farmers in Mapleton, the way he carried himself spoke of his inherent authority. I recognized him instantly—Beverly’s husband. The man who’d been coming into Arcanum for free baked goods once a week since I opened, always warning me sternly not to tell Beverly.

Karen gasped. “Sheriff, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it! No one wants to hear it! So if you don’t mind, you and everyone else who’s standing around gawking can pack it in and get out of here!” He yelled the last part, glaring at the group of bystanders.

“Whoa,” Edwards whispered. “I wonder how long he’s been waiting to tell her that.”

“How long was he sheriff?” Chris chuckled before turning to me again, lowering his voice. “Did you do some kind of witchy woo-woo on the sheriff?”

“ That’s the sheriff?” My eyes widened.

“Retired. But still heavily involved, as you can see. And that didn’t answer my question.”

I shook my head. “Other than come into the store for muffins, he’s never said more than three words to me.”

“Must be some magical muffins then.” He tried to keep a straight face and failed in less than two seconds, losing out to an impish grin.

I rolled my eyes, appreciating his humor nonetheless. At least he wasn’t mad about the witchcraft anymore if he was cracking jokes about it. Although I still didn’t know how he’d react if I ever manifested something right in front of him. Thankfully, there was plenty of time before we got to that stage of our relationship.

The breeze shifted, chilling me through my wet clothes and sending a shiver down my spine. “If I’m not needed for some kind of statement, can I go home?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive you. My squad is a couple blocks that way.”

“Greyson!” Amanda called out. I turned right as she threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you.”

I gave her a smile and a small nod. “Of course.” As soon as she was gone, I looked at Chris glumly. “Did you see the bruise on her face?”

Anger bubbled inside of him, but his face remained devoid of expression. “Which one?”

“You can’t do anything?” I didn’t mean him, specifically, but rather the police department and the criminal justice system as a whole. I had a feeling if Chris was personally capable of rectifying the situation, he would—in a heartbeat. It’s who he was.

“Trust me, we’ve tried. It’s… complicated.”

“Why does everything have to be so complicated in law enforcement?” I shook my head sadly at the rhetorical question and started for the sidewalk, ignoring the whispers and speculation about my soaked clothing, how I knew where to find the boy, and what, exactly, we’d gotten up to before Chris arrived to rescue him from the devil-worshiping witch.

Chris caught up to me quickly, ceasing the gossip with his mere presence. I’m sure the glares he sent over his shoulder didn’t hurt. Nitro trotted in front of us, leading the way to wherever the squad was.

“I wish I had a jacket or something to give you, but everything is in the car,” Chris said as we walked, unperturbed by the weather despite the fact he was wearing a short-sleeved uniform.

“It’s ok. It’s better now that I’m not standing still.”

“I’d at least offer an arm, but this isn’t really comfortable to lean against.” He gestured at his vest and the various pieces of equipment strapped to his hips and chest.

“It’s fine, really. Besides, that would raise more than a few eyebrows. I just got in half of the town’s good graces. I don’t want to ruin it so quickly.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Ed—the former sheriff—put you in for a citizen’s award.”

My gaze snapped to his, eyes wide. “What? No! He can’t! I mean, that’s not necessary. Anyone would have done it.”

“You don’t like people knowing much about you, do you?” He squinted at me, a hint of his usual police suspicion sneaking through him.

“It’s safer that way,” I admitted, looking at the pavement beneath my feet and the carpet of brightly colored leaves caught in the gutter.

“Yeah, but you don’t have any social media accounts. Resumes online. Nothing. It’s like you don’t exist. And you’re the one who said stuff wasn’t a big deal in Chicago, not like it is here.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Is there a question in there somewhere, officer?”

“Just…” He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his uncertainty. “Never mind. I’m probably projecting, or whatever.”

“Projecting what?” I pushed gently.

“Sometimes I get the feeling you’re hiding something.” He stopped and faced me, wariness lining his face, like he was expecting a fight. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe I’m still hung up on what happened in my last relationship. I’m sorry. I thought I was over it.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was hiding something. And as much as I tried to give him the honesty he needed, I didn’t want to tell him the truth, either. I worried that speaking Don’s name out loud would summon him, like a demon from a nightmare. If words and thoughts were power, then I didn’t want to give Don any more of mine. I didn’t want to bring him back into my life if I’d finally escaped. And I didn’t want to put Chris in an impossible position, given what he did for a living. Perhaps, there was a compromise.

“Back in Chicago, I had a stalker,” I said slowly, choosing my words so they relayed as much information as possible without inviting trouble from the universe. “Part of why I came here was to get away from him. That’s why I don’t have social media. And that’s why I don’t want public recognition of any kind. I don’t want him to find me.”

Chris’s lips twisted into a scowl, a mix of surprise, concern, and anger emanating from him. “Was it an ex?”

I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that. He was basically a stranger. I’d only met the man one time before it began.”

“But you’re good now?”

“I hope so.”

He nodded slowly. I got the sense that he was trying to believe me but he wasn’t able to turn off his “police mode” once it had been activated. Not to mention his usual level of protectiveness had reached an all-new high. “Did you report it?”

“I did. Nothing ever came of it.”

Making a face, like a wince and a grimace combined, it mirrored his feelings of understanding and frustration. “That’s why you don’t like Chicago PD.”

I nodded. “Plus being their prime suspect for murdering my whole family kind of puts a damper on things.”

“I figured it’s because cops are assholes.” He smiled brightly, making my heart flutter at the sight.

“Not all cops. Some can be nice.”

“Yeah, Nitro’s pretty chill. Right, boy?” He scratched the dog’s big ears and resumed walking, unaware of the effect his smile had… especially in uniform.

Exhaling silently, I followed after them, feeling a tiny bit of relief. Chris knew about the stalking and he didn’t freak out. He might not have known all of the sordid details, but he knew enough to put his suspicions at ease. For the most part.

And hopefully that was all he’d ever need to know about Don.