It had been a week since that storm–and since the ride with Noah Brooks.
That man had kept talking and talking the entire way to her home. Aralyn had the urge to flick her fingers and magically shut him up, but she resisted. She didn't want to make things awkward or strange–not when the man had offered her a ride.
It felt nice to be noticed, though her mind insisted otherwise.
He's like the rest of them, she thought bitterly. Nice on the outside, but stinking and rotting on the inside.
"What's your name really?" he had asked suddenly.
"If you met my dad, I don't think you could stay this silent much longer."
Interesting, she had thought at the time. But try me.
"It's been a while since I got here. I thought things would change, even just a bit."
He had kept rambling about the road with his friends, about the music he played, about how music was his life. Aralyn had been dangerously close to asking about his adventures. But all she had done was purse her lips and stare out the window.
"Don't be a stranger, stranger!" he had called with a grin when she ran back to her house before he could say anything more.
Aralyn stood by the window in her kitchen now, staring out at the storm.
It hadn't truly passed since that day.
Rain poured endlessly over the town, turning the earth into mud and flooding the edges of her garden. It pained her to see her plants drowning while she could do nothing to stop it.
With a sigh, she busied herself by placing the kettle over the stove, her mind already wandering through what she could bake.
As she reached for the flour on the top cabinet, she stopped herself and grumbled under her breath.
"Never mind. Mushroom sounds good enough."
She began preparing something simple. The smell of sautéed mushrooms soon wafted through the kitchen, immediately making her stomach grumble.
Her hands moved naturally, almost by instinct. Soon she found herself pulling out the bag of flour anyway, kneading dough for bread.
Her dinner would be simple: creamy mushroom soup with a grilled cheese sandwich.
Perfect for the storm raging outside.
Her mind drifted back to the twins in the woods.
How in the heavens did they know it was me?
She poured the creamy mushroom soup into a ceramic bowl, brows knitting in quiet wonder. The kind of power those twins possessed was… intriguing. Enticing, even.
She wondered if any member of her old coven would have been able to sense it.
The dough went into the oven for forty-five minutes. While it baked, she wiped down the counters and cleaned the kitchen in practiced motions.
"Don't be a stranger, stranger!"
Aralyn froze. She shook her head sharply. "What?" she muttered, annoyed with herself.
Why him?
Why was that charmer of a man taking up space in her thoughts? He was nobody. He would end up the same as the rest of the townspeople once he learned how she truly lived her life.
When the bread was done, she finished preparing her meal, grilling the sandwich slowly until the cheese melted just right.
She climbed onto the stool at her small table, bowl and plate in front of her.
"Come to mama."
She scooped a spoonful of soup and blew on it gently before taking a sip, savoring the warmth spreading through her chest.
Knock knock.
Aralyn froze.
Closing her eyes, she placed the spoon down and hopped off the stool.
She peeked through the window.
The rain hadn't subsided. If anything, it had grown stronger.
"Who in their right mind would walk through this?" she muttered.
She grabbed a scarf from the coat rack and wrapped it tightly around her neck before heading to the door.
The door creaked open just a little as she peeked outside.
"Noah?"
Water droplets clung to his copper hair, running down his face. When he saw her peeking through the door, his familiar lopsided grin appeared.
"Hey, Scarf," he beamed. Aralyn noticed the small dimple on his right cheek. "Sorry to bother you, but could you let me stay for a while? Y'know, until the rain slows down."
He wore a red flannel over a white T-shirt and ripped jeans at the ankles, the fabric darkened by rain.
Aralyn remained silent.
The silence slowly made Noah uncomfortable. The charm and bravado he had shown the first time they met seemed to melt away, leaving behind a vulnerable, shivering man.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke again. "My car broke down nine miles from here."
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I know you're probably going to say 'find someone else to bug,' but you're the only person–the only woman–I trust on this side of the street."
He glanced around the empty road.
His lips were pale and bluish from the cold. Aralyn felt a heavy weight in her chest at the thought of letting him in. But an even heavier weight settled in her heart at the thought of leaving him outside in the storm.
She closed the door.
Noah sighed quietly. At least he tried. His head hung low as he turned back toward the porch, preparing to make a run for home through the rain.
Then the door opened again. Aralyn stood there, arms crossed. She stepped aside slightly, gesturing for him to come inside.
Noah's face instantly broke into that easy smile again as he stepped in. Aralyn shut the door behind him.
"Wait here," she said before heading down the hallway.
Noah looked around while she was gone. Her house was modest, almost strangely minimal. But two things immediately stood out to him: there were no mirrors. And there were no photographs.
Almost every house in Dewhurst had mirrors everywhere and photos nailed to the walls–snapshots of families smiling together, trophies from school competitions proudly displayed on shelves.
But here?
Only books. Stacks and stacks of them.
He heard her footsteps returning. Aralyn walked back in holding a clean towel and a robe. She didn't meet his eyes as she handed them to him.
"Here. Dry off."
"Thanks, Scarf. I knew you weren't the kind of person they were telling me about," he said, rubbing the towel through his soaked hair.
Aralyn looked down, controlling her breathing as she watched water drip steadily onto the floor.
I'll clean that later.
She turned and walked to the kitchen, pressing her hands against her temples.
"What am I doing?" she muttered. "You're supposed to chase him out, not let him in, you imbecile."
She covered her face with both hands in exasperation before pushing her hair back, adjusting the scarf around her neck to keep the marks hidden.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Then she remembered what Mrs. Collin had done when Aralyn visited her house.
"Tea. Tea… yes! Thank the Lord I already made it," she whispered triumphantly.
She grabbed a new mug from the top shelf and poured the tea carefully.
Carrying the warm mug, she walked back toward the living room.
HELP ME!
Her face twisted in sudden pain.
Her body weakened instantly, and the mug slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor.
She clutched her head.
What was that voice? A piercing frequency screamed through her skull like a blade splitting her mind apart.
Someone! Please! Help me!
Aralyn collapsed to her knees, screaming in agony.
Noah rushed into the room.
"Scarf!? Hey! Talk to me!" he shouted, his hands hovering helplessly over her shoulders.
Aralyn doubled over, groaning. Noah caught her just as she fell forward into his arms. His heart pounded wildly.
Her body began heating rapidly. Too rapidly. It felt like he was holding molten lava. "Stop, please stop," Aralyn whimpered, eyes tightly shut.
"Oh my God, you're burning up," Noah whispered in alarm.
Carefully, he unwrapped the scarf around her neck. What he saw stole the breath from his lungs. Moon phases glowed faintly across her neck, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath her skin.
"What... are you?"
He lifted her into his arms.
"Oh, damn it. Sorry, Scarf. Hang in there," he muttered apology for the soak shirt as he carried her to the living room couch.
He laid her down gently. Slowly, her breathing began to calm. The glowing marks faded. Noah remained seated beside the couch, staring at her. A thousand questions spun through his mind.
Was this why you stayed away from everyone?
He thought about the way Mrs. Pinnings had treated her. He remembered his father saying that very morning when Noah came home:
"Stay away from her, son."
He did ask why, but then he guessed being old gave them a pass of being annoying. His dad only said, "Trust me."
Cassie had warned him too a few nights earlier.
"If I were you, I'd stay away from her. She's nothing but trouble."
Of course, Noah had replied without thinking.
"Really? Like back at Maple's? She didn't even say anything–you guys were the ones attacking her!"
That had earned him a solid smack on the arm.
A soft groan came from the couch. Noah leaned closer, crouching beside her.
"Scarf?" he called softly.
Aralyn's eyes slowly fluttered open. At first they were foggy. Then they focused and landed on Noah's concerned face, far closer than she expected. She jerked back suddenly, knocking her forehead against his.
"Ow!"
"Wha–what happened?" she groaned, rubbing her forehead.
Then her eyes widened. Her neck felt... light. Free. She looked down. The scarf was gone. Panic flooded her instantly. She jumped to her feet.
"Hey, hey–Scarf?" Noah stood as well, raising his hands.
Aralyn stepped backward, covering her neck with both hands. He couldn't see her like this.
Noah frowned slightly, understanding dawning on his face. He walked into the kitchen, where the broken mug pieces and her scarf lay on the floor.
He picked it up and returned to her. For a brief moment, he hesitated. Then he wrapped the scarf gently back around her neck.
"This isn't my business, Scarf," he said quietly. His finger slid under her chin, lifting it gently. Aralyn finally met his eyes. Stormy gray–just like the weather outside. "But whatever it is," he continued softly, "it doesn't change the fact that you're still the same person I met at Maple. Badass."
He smiled faintly.
"Weird... and kind of annoying, since she refuses to talk to me."