Undone: The Complete Duology, page 6
The thought of acquiring the first of the three elements of the spell brought a little smile to my face. I had to do something about that before I dealt with Bobby, though. He couldn’t see me as schoolgirl Gracie. I needed him to take me seriously in this.
Then again, if locking him in my basement didn’t show I meant business, I wasn’t sure anything would.
After changing into a clean t-shirt and jeans, I gathered supplies from around the house: washcloth, bin, bucket, bar of soap, drop point knife, fork, and a bowl of leftover alfredo pasta that I’d picked up yesterday from the diner. Their portions were huge. I even grabbed the extra garlic bread, wrapped in foil.
After arranging everything into the bucket and then setting the bin on top, I lugged my loot to the basement. When I opened the door, the smell of sweat and something that had the distinct note of fear wafted towards me.
At least he hadn’t pissed himself.
Dang. He probably needed to use the bathroom.
How the hell was I going to do this? Bed pan or bottle was out of the question.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled the door shut again and then fumbled in the dresser turned microwave cart for my pistol. I’d only ever used it to scare off wildlife that prowled too close to the house for my comfort, but Bobby didn’t need to know that.
I had considered bringing the gun when I’d collected him outside of town, but the area was too wide open. He would have called my bluff by running. Luring him in had been far more practical. Locked in my basement, he was far less likely to push my boundaries, though. Not with a gun pointed at his face.
I placed the gun in the bin and hauled everything down the basement steps.
Bobby blinked up at me from where he sat slack in the chair. His face was pale and smeared with blood, and his eyes were dark and heavy. His entire body trembled, ever so slightly. I was going to have to take better care of him if I wanted him to be nice and healthy for the full moon.
This was why I didn’t keep houseplants.
“I brought you something,” I said in a singsong voice as I began to unload the goods onto the side table.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and I realized I had the gun in my hand.
Oops.
“I meant pasta,” I said, then eyed him up and down. “You need to piss?”
He nodded, jaw tight.
“Okay, look. I’m going to untie you to preserve both of our dignities in this, but you so much as look at the stairs, and I will shoot your kneecaps, got it?”
He nodded again.
“Aw, who’s a good hostage?” I cooed as I undid the gag around his mouth.
“Gracie, you really don’t—”
I slapped the back of his skull. “Don’t make me regret this, fuckhead.”
I came around to the front and stared into his eyes, inches from his face, waiting for him to flinch. He stared down at me, his future so clearly playing out in front of him. I tipped my head and smiled broad and full of teeth.
Then I grabbed the knife off the table and sawed the ropes binding his wrists and legs. He barely breathed while I had a pointy object so close to him. When I finished, he brought his arms together, slowly, grimacing, and rubbed his forearms one at a time.
By the time he looked up at me, I had the gun pointed at him. I smiled sweetly.
“You can use the bucket.” I kicked it with the side of my foot. “I’ll cover my eyes.”
I kept the gun trained on him as I backed towards the stairs then took a seat on the bottom step.
He looked between the bucket and me, then slowly raised his feet. He didn’t trust me, and that suited me just fine.
He shouldn’t.
With a slight limp, he grabbed the bucket then took it to a darker corner of the basement. I shielded my eyes with my free hand, leaving the gun pointed in his general direction, and hummed Itsy Bitsy Spider to try to drown out the sound of him pissing like a horse.
Finally, he finished.
I looked up just as he zipped his pants. “Since you’re already roaming about, you can feed yourself the pasta.”
I gestured the pistol towards where the takeout tray sat on the table. He moved slowly, cautiously, watching me for approval as he made his way to the table. Even in the dim light of the basement, the excitement at eating real food flickered across his face.
“Take the foil too,” I said. “It’s cheesy bread.”
He grabbed both items and the fork, then looked around the room. I straightened, expecting him to make a bold or stupid move—there was a fine line between such things.
Then I realized he was looking for some place to sit besides the chair he’d been strapped to for the last twenty-four hours.
“Floor or chair,” I said.
The basement perimeter was filled with clutter that had collected over the years, but it wasn’t like I kept a dining room table down here.
Stiff and wincing, he lowered to the floor next to the worktable. As he set to wolfing down the pasta, a wave of sadness crossed over me.
In a few weeks, this would all be over. Then what?
I pushed aside the thought. For now, I just needed to focus on making sure I succeeded. The Goddess gave me the answer, but She didn’t guarantee results. It was on me to fulfill the destiny of Thorn Tree.
“I can warm it up in the microwave,” I said before I considered how much of a pain it would be to re-tie him so I could nuke his food for sixty seconds.
He looked up at me with a sheepish smile. The food was already gone.
At least he still had an appetite. That would make keeping him alive easier. Funny how even though he was faced with death—surely, he knew this situation wasn’t going to end well for him—his instinct was to survive. How odd the fight for survival overrode the desire for comfort.
Death was rarely merciful.
“If you don’t mind, Gracie,” he began with sincerity, his voice thick and wobbly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’ll just stay right here, not make a move, but I would like a moment to give my body a break.”
He held up his arms, revealing the chafing on his wrists that had started to bleed. I hadn’t paid much attention when I had cut him free, but now that he mentioned it, they did look pretty bad already. He still had a long way to go in that chair, but I couldn’t risk him getting an infection.
“Yeah, in fact, why don’t you get the basin and the soap and wash up,” I said.
He gave me a quizzical look.
“There’s a sink behind the old fridge over there.” I pointed to a dark corner. “My dad wanted to turn this into a guest suite. As you can see, he didn’t get very far.”
Dad had suffered a stroke while working on his truck. I’d found him dead on the ground, no warning. With him had gone my one and only ally in Thorn Tree. He was buried in the town cemetery, but I never went to see him. He was dead; he didn’t know.
“’I’m sorry about him,” Bobby said quietly.
My laugh filled the basement, and Bobby winced.
“Don’t try platitudes now, Bobby,” I snapped. “I didn’t see you at the funeral.”
“I was in New York…”
I growled. “Flowers? Card? A singing fuckin’ telegram?”
He lowered his head. “You’re right. I—”
“Just wash up before I change my mind.”
At least he was smart enough to shut his stupid mouth. I watched him, my gun still trained at him, as he gathered up the supplies I’d brought for washing up and headed to the pedestal sink almost invisible in the corner.
The faucet squeaked, and his silhouette removed his shirt before bending over the sink with the bar of soap. He sat to work scrubbing up—face, chest, armpits—and rinsed his hair before turning off the sink. He squeezed the water from his hair and wiped the excess from his arms before returning to stand behind the chair.
“I forgot a towel,” I said flatly.
“I’ll dry,” he said. “I feel much better now, thank you.”
I stiffened. I didn’t want him feeling too much better, not enough to start making bad choices.
He gripped the back of the chair. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Gracie.”
Bad choice number one.
“It didn’t,” I agreed, “but you decided all of our fates, now didn’t you, Bobby?”
He hesitated. “Gracie, I—”
I jerked to my feet, gun in hand. “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up!”
He held up his hands in a placating way. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? You’re right.”
I glowered at him, rage pounding through me with each beat of my heart. The urge to make good on my promise and shoot his knee burned my fingers, but I held back. I didn’t need to deal with a serious wound or worse, risk him bleeding out before it was his time.
He held still, careful to keep his posture relaxed and his expression non-threatening. It was strange, seeing Bobby navigate this situation. He’d been a goofy little asshole in high school. Looked like his survival instincts had kicked in.
“I just want you to understand,” he said softly, “my brother will come around before long. He’ll be looking for me. He’s an officer in another town.”
I perked up. “Your brother?”
Bobby didn’t need to know I had already met Officer Mac Brewer. I still hadn’t processed that Mac was related to this fuckwit, even if only by half.
“My mom will reach out to him,” Bobby said.
I waved the gun at him. “Tell me about your brother. What’s he like?”
Bobby scoped me out, then seemed to remember his position and lowered his gaze as he continued to stand behind the chair. Probably stretching his legs.
“He’s a good guy, honestly. Not…not like me.” He tried to smile, but it faltered. “Always helping people, always seeing the best in everyone. When I moved to New York, I…I really struggled. It’s not like Thorn Tree.”
“Wasn’t that the point?”
“I thought I had made a terrible mistake. I’d left everyone behind. My mom cried endlessly on the phone. I felt terrible.” He shook off that train of thought. “When Mac tracked me back down, he called me every night. You know, seeing if I needed anything, seeing if I wanted him to move to New York and help me out. He’s just…He’s a good guy. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him if he comes here.”
“He should stay away then,” I said.
No point telling him Thorn Tree had already sunk its claws into Mac.
“I wish he would, but it’s not like I can do anything about it here.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I should have never come back.”
“You shouldn’t have been allowed to,” I said with more bitterness than I had intended. “But you always got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
Bobby lowered his gaze to the seat of the chair. “They shouldn’t have—”
“Tell me about your brother,” I said, cutting him off. “More. He’s a good guy. We established that. What else?”
“What would you like to know?”
Good question. I hadn’t considered that. What was I trying to glean about him? Something I could use against him, surely.
“Is he married?”
I snapped my mouth shut.
Seriously, Gracie?
Bobby shook his head. “He had his heart broken by some chick named Lexi. I think that was about it for him. We didn’t discuss it past that.”
Relief flooded through me, and then I had to suppress a laugh. I was willing to hold his brother hostage in my basement, but I wasn’t going to be a homewrecker.
“What do you think will happen when he comes to Thorn Tree?” I asked, redirecting the conversation a little.
“I know they won’t want him here, but my mom will insist, and Sheriff Ditka will vouch for Mac to the Reverend to make her happy. You know the sheriff has a way with the Reverend.”
“Your mother must have a golden vagina.”
Bobby flinched, but I shrugged it off. His mother had far more influence in this town than she should have, and she did it all via the sheriff’s cock.
More power to her.
I leveled my gaze at Bobby. “Do you think Mac will find you?”
He nodded, then caught himself. “I mean…well, he’s tenacious, at least.”
My heart beat faster, and not in a good, swooning kind of way. I hadn’t expected Bobby’s answer to bother me, but his certainty that Mac would figure out where Bobby was before he had served his purpose did not sit well with me.
“I’ll have to keep a watch out for him, then,” I said coolly.
The color, what was left of it anyway, drained from Bobby’s face. “He’s a good guy, Gracie.”
“I know,” I said, “and that’s the last thing we need in Thorn Tree.”
Bobby couldn’t argue.
“You should have never come back,” I reiterated.
“I should have never left.”
I reared back, but he was correct. As bad as life was here, escaping was harder. Coming back to visit was just pure foolishness.
“They’ll never allow anyone to return after this,” I said.
Not that there would be any Thorn Tree left when I was done with it. Either way, even Ms. Roberta’s magical vagina wasn’t going to convince them to allow visitations from those who had defected again.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Bobby asked quietly, but he raised his head to meet my gaze.
He wasn’t a coward, after all. I had no reason not to be honest with him.
“You’re going to die,” I said, with neither remorse nor glee. It was just a fact.
“For one of your magic…things?”
Anger flashed through me, and I stormed towards him.
He took a step back. “I’m not…It’s just with Bethany and them, you know?”
I did know.
“They’re not real witches,” I said, words laced with hatred. “They’re playing a game. This…this is not a game.”
I gestured around the basement.
“No, it is not,” he said. Reality dawned on his face. “Gracie, I know this is stupid to ask but…can we fix this? Somehow?”
I halted, standing a few feet in front of him, the chair between us. “Yes. Yes, it can be fixed. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
A knock came from upstairs.
What was with these people lately? Did I put out a fuckin’ welcome mat?
I pointed the gun at him. “Back in the chair. Now.”
His entire body sagged, but he did as he was told. He didn’t even flinch as I tied his wrists and legs again, then returned the gag. I couldn’t risk him getting a wild idea to shout for help.
The knocking came again.
If it wasn’t Mac, they’d better fuckin’ run.
I left everything downstairs except the gun which I stashed back in its hiding place before locking up the basement.
Then I flung open the front door.
Amelia Young stood on my step, as happy as a cloudy day.
“Whatever you’ve done, Gracie Miller, fix it.”
Before I could reply, she turned and stormed off my patio. I considered shouting after her, but what was there to say? I knew she was upset that Mac was prowling around town. Everyone would be.
Bobby’s words rung in my head. Mac was tenacious. He would find Bobby.
Somehow, I didn’t doubt that.
I couldn’t speed up my plan. It relied on the full moon, and that was still weeks away. Mac had plenty of time to locate his brother before then. The town wasn’t that big, after all, and everyone suspected me in everything, whether it was true or not.
As much as I had hoped to throw him off the trail, the truth was far more unsettling: Mac and I were headed towards an inevitable showdown.
9
GRACE
I hauled the bucket upstairs—yes, that bucket—grumbling to myself. Emptying it in the sink would have been more convenient, but the basin was small and the risk of splashing myself far too great. I would have to water the weeds out back.
Outside, I sat down the bucket and then tipped it over with my foot. I would hose it out later, but I would have to come up with a better plan before his next bathroom break.
This was not going to suffice.
Perhaps I would have to block in my bedroom and hallway, and keep him back there. That would require some thought. Board up the windows. Not let anyone else in the house…not like I did willingly, anyway. Definitely would have to be more vigilant though.
This situation was becoming complicated.
After scrubbing my hands until they were red, I yanked open the refrigerator door and scanned the contents inside, or lack thereof. I wanted French fries, ice cream, and a whole buffet to soothe the turmoil in my chest.
I didn’t want to hold Bobby hostage, but it wasn’t like I could count on snatching him out of New York when the time came. Just like the man-in-the-moon ring, Bobby had come to Thorn Tree as a gift from Her.
Who was I to refuse such an offer?
It was fine. Just a few weeks, then I would be free of him. In the meantime, I needed carbs.
I collected my keys from the wicker basket on the table by the front door then drove into town. It was a short trip, but it left my brain with too much freedom to wander.
Mac was innocent in this situation. Bobby and I could agree on that much. If I were a nice person, I would throw my plan aside and try to save Mac from falling face first into Thorn Tree. As long as he stayed on the surface, as long as he didn’t discover any of our secrets, the town would let him go.
But he was poking around far too much for not just my own good, but his too. If he uncovered the truth about Thorn Tree, they would make sure he never left. Bobby and his father had only been spared by the favor Roberta had courted for them, and their good sense to keep quiet. I never met Bobby’s father, but I knew how this town operated. No doubt he had lived every day with the threat of a slow, agonizing death for his loved ones outside Thorn Tree if he uttered a word.
Mac was an outsider. He held no power here. If he made one wrong move, it would end terribly for him.
