Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

13

"Where are we going?"

I'd decided that my crazy hallucinations were not a good enough reason to jeopardize a potential friendship. To ignore what was either a possible concussion or a serious psychological meltdown was not my best call ever, but I was desperate.

I needed to make a connection, to make my life real, to take control back from Emily and Stephen.

"There's a great cocktail bar on this side of town, no need to travel into the city," Anne answered, her tone light.

I couldn't decide if she was being discreet, or if she really was oblivious to my emotional roller-coaster of the last half hour. Either way, I was happy to run with it.

The Evil Eye was on the outskirts of the city. Flocked Victorian style wallpaper, dark red with an intricate raised pattern in purple, made it look like a disreputable French boudoir. Gaudy in daylight, but warm when coming in from the dark night. Fashionable recycled glass table wear in dark green and dark blue added to the effect. There was a long dark varnished wooden bar, and comfortable looking booths with plush seats in dark red velvet to match the walls.

Sat at the bar we both ordered a raspberry and vanilla Martini. As the waiter mixed our drinks, I took the opportunity to check out our company. There were a few after work stragglers in parties of three or four, and some hipster types all wearing thick rimmed glasses that they probably didn't need. All the booths were taken. We were the only two customers sat at the bar.

So far, so good.

We were on our third cocktail, and things were getting a little hazy.

"So, I like silver-foxes, what's the worst that could happ...," Anne trailed off, half-way through a rambling lecture on the pros and cons of acting on her crush on the boss, Mr. Anderson.

Her eyes widened, a spark of interest brightening her green eyes to an impossible shade, bright as grass after a spring downpour. She was facing the door, so I swivelled in my seat to see the newcomer, and immediately wished that I hadn't. Twisting back around I reached for my bags, intending to make a quick getaway.

Before I could get myself organised, Anne had started introducing herself to Stephen.

"Hey there." Anne motioned to Stephen that the seat next to her was free.

"Hi," Stephen replied, glancing at Anne before turning his intense gaze back on me.

Wearing a black shirt and black sports jacket, with dark grey slacks and black leather shoes, he was dressed for business. His dark hair was pushed back out of his face. Pale and serious looking, his dark blue eyes held a note of tension giving him a mysterious air.

Stephen looked good. Which made the humiliation of our past that little bit worse. I fought desperately to stop the gaping pit of mortification inside me from swallowing me whole. The three Martinis were not helping me stabilise my emotions but somehow I managed to shuffle off my chair and shoulder my bags.

Anne looked at me realising something was wrong through the tipsy cocktail haze. She glanced back at Stephen with distrust.

"My mistake, that seat's actually taken."

Anne quickly turned her back to Stephen. I could have kissed her for her efforts, but even through my drunken panic, I knew that it wasn't enough.

"Alice, we need to talk," he said, a patronising note to his voice that made me want to shrink inside myself even further.

Instead, I straightened my back. I might have to grab onto a chair to balance, but hell, I wasn't going to cringe away from this guy.

Wiping my face of any expression, I tried for indifference as I stepped around him, making steady progress to the exit. After a couple of steps I thought I was home free.

As if.

Stephen grabbed my arm, yanking me back and twisting me roughly so that I was facing him. The pain made me wince. I tried to pull my arm away, but his grip was too strong.

"What the hell, Stephen?" Anger heated the growl in my voice. Blood pounded in my ears as I tried to get a hold of myself. I couldn't lose it now, not in front of him.

"You never could hold your drink, Alice. I'll take you home," Stephen smirked, satisfied that he had me back where he wanted me.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know who you are."

Something that looked like pain flashed through the storm in Stephen's dark-blue eyes, before it smoothed out into hard determination. His grip on my arm tightened, drawing a squeak of pain despite my intention to be stoic. 

"Hey, get off her," Anne interjected angrily.

We were starting to attract attention. The bar tender looked over, and reached for something behind the bar. The air got thick around me as panic pushed out all reason. I reached for my pendant, desperate for its calming energy, only to remember that it had been stolen.

Stephen's grip tightened further in response to the approaching waiter. I winced in pain, but there was no compassion in his face. Shocked by his cruelty, I realised that I'd spoken the truth before. I didn't know him. I never had. The man I'd loved for four years didn't exist.

Grief and anger warred in me until the sound of metal crashing against metal filled my head.

Anne jumped off her stool, eyes wide with fear. Could she hear that too? Crap, I really was losing it.

In the flurry of movement I saw a trace of gold light emanating from her skin. Muttering under her breath, she reached out, brushing Stephen's skin with the tips of her fingers. He jumped back as though he had been hit with an electric shock, his eyes, vacant pools of blue.

"Come on," Anne said, "Let's get out of here."