Page 12 of Calling Quarters

Iwas out of my mind.

Taking a complete stranger, who had clearly followed me into that coffee shop as a ruse, up on an offer to show me around town? Just to learn more about my background?

It was insane.

But I was growing impatient waiting for the people of Beacon Grove to give me answers. It seemed as if everyone knew who I was and where I came from, yet no one wanted to share what any of that meant. I never expected the information to come to me easily, but I hadn't expected it to be nearly impossible to find.

My original plan was for this trip to last a few weeks—maybe a month at most. That's what I budgeted for from my newly padded savings thanks to Aunt Asher's "accidental" death. I'd already been here a whole week and hadn't gotten anywhere. It was infuriating. So, I took advantage of the ruse and accepted the stalker-boy's offer.

I learned his name was Remy.

He spoke about Beacon Grove and Watchtower with confidence and pride and kept a respectful distance between us as we strolled around the town's center. Eventually, my anxiety and suspicions about him faded away, and I focused instead on pulling whatever details I could get out of him. He shared small, random facts that didn't quite interest me, but the way he spoke was so captivating, I didn't have the heart to stop him.

On the plus side, I managed to get the wonky library hours out of him. Even if he offered nothing else, I'd call that a win. Blaire had looked at me like she had no idea there even was a library in Beacon Grove when I asked her, so she was useless in that regard.

Eventually, we quit circling the same buildings and headed on a dirt path that fed off the side of the art gallery. I'd finally gotten the nerve to ask him about the Watchtower coven and after a bit of probing, he gave in to answering.

“Not everyone in Beacon Grove is a part of Watchtower,” he explained patiently. “The initiation process is brutal, even for legacies. Not many are willing to endure it.”

“Then how is the coven still in existence?”

“What do you mean?”

“What's the point of making the process of joining so impossible if it deters people from wanting to be a part of it.”

He pondered that for a moment, his gaze directed ahead at the shaded path we were on. So much time passed, I thought he was going to ignore the question altogether. Then, his eyes swung over to mine and the passion that burned in them almost made me stumble back a bit.

“Watchtower is an ancient coven. The original thirteen members came to these woods for protection from those who couldn't understand our ways. They built Beacon Grove from sticks and mud and turned it into the beautiful place that it is today. We want to honor them by making sure every member is here because they want to be, not simply because their parents are members or because it sounds interesting.”

He sent me a pointed glare. He was accusing me of the former.

“I have no interest in joining,” I defended, my tone a little harsher than I'd intended. “I told you, I just want to get to know where I came from.”

“Being a Graves, those are one in the same. Your family was one of the originals. You can easily trace them back to the town's conception.”

Then why did they all leave when I came along? Like everything else, it didn't make sense.

It was clear that Remy knew a lot about the town, and he took pride in his coven. Maybe Tabitha wasn't the only person I had to turn to.

“So, you went through the grueling initiation?” I asked conversationally. He obviously had, since he was an active member. I wanted more details on what the process was like.

A shadow cast over his features. I watched them darken within an instant and almost convinced myself I'd imagined it—that they were that dark all along, I was just finally noticing it. Except, the haunted look on his face didn't falter, especially when he spoke.

“I didn't have to.”

“Why?”

“Those are the rules.”

“I thought the rules were to go through initiation,” I teased, but he didn't seem to catch my humor.

“Yeah, well I'm a Quarter. We don't get a choice.”

If he noticed my shocked expression, he didn't make it obvious. We had stopped in the middle of the path a few moments ago. The trees swayed and leaves danced around us, but I was completely still.

I knew something was off about him.

Different.