Maximum Witch

chapter Eleven


Willa gave herself a cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, a groan springing to her lips. If it was possible for someone to look like they’d just indulged in a sex marathon with a shark, she definitely fit the bill. So much for her resolution to keep her hands off Max.

Smoothing a palm over her sweat-dampened hair, she twisted the doorknob and walked into the bedroom. Max stood next to the dresser, gripping the photo of her and Aunt Aurele, his face a canvas of shock. She didn’t know what to make of his expression.

His focus skipped from the picture and locked on her. “What the hell is going on here?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stalked forward. If not for his thunderous look, she might have become extremely distracted by his naked, mouthwatering bod again. He held up the frame, his forefinger jabbing at her aunt’s smiling countenance. “This is Aurele Telluride, damn it.”

“No, it’s Aurele Jameson. My aunt.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Your aunt? Not goddamn likely.”

His adamancy left her baffled. “I think of the two of us, I have the better insight into who I’m related to.”

“You honestly expect me to believe your aunt is the former advisor to the King of Atlantis? A woman who’s been dead for more than two decades?”

Atlantis? Did that place even exist? She’d always assumed it was just a myth. “Contrary to your theory, my aunt is very much alive, and she happens to be a retired librarian.”

Max pointed to the photograph again. “I’m telling you, this woman is Aurele Telluride. My father has a picture in his den that shows him standing next to Aurele while she and the king swore him in as sheriff. Other than looking a little older here—” he tapped the frame, “—the woman is identical.”

“Okay, so they look alike. Coincidences happen.”

“Just like it’s a coincidence their first name is the same? A name that’s pretty damn unusual, in case you didn’t notice.”

Yeah, that was a little weird. But not completely impossible. She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I want to meet her. Now.”

She gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But…it’s almost six o’clock at night.”

“Not exactly late.”

She plunked her hands on her hips. “It is if it requires driving into Atlanta.”

“Then I guess we better hit the road immediately.”

A growl leapt from her throat. “Look, I let you have your beastly way with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start letting you boss me around.”

“Beastly, my ass. You loved it. And the sooner we get this mystery solved, the sooner we can return to bed and you can love it a dozen more times tonight.”

Right about then, she wished she possessed the ability to shoot fire missiles from her eyes. He would be such toast. “If I agree to this, I fully expect your groveling apology when it’s proved you’re wrong.”

“Deal.”



Roughly three hours later, Willa screeched into the driveway of her aunt’s small bungalow. Lamplight silhouetted the bay window. She’d phoned earlier, making sure it was okay to stop by for an impromptu visit. Despite her aunt’s enthusiasm at receiving company, Willa still wanted to club Max. She jumped out of the Taurus and hurried to catch up with him before he reached the house’s porch. “Let’s get something clear. Under no circumstances are you to start with your insane ramblings about my aunt resembling a dead woman. Capiche?”

“Fine.”

She didn’t quite trust his easy compliance. For now, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he so much as peeped a word that might upset her aunt, he was so getting the toe of her sandal up his ass. They climbed the steps together and she rang the bell. A moment later her aunt flung open the door and scooped Willa into her arms. Aurele’s beloved gardenia perfume embraced Willa as surely as her aunt’s fierce hug, causing Willa’s eyes to mist.

“Good Lord, look how skinny you are. We’ll fix that right up. I’ll defrost some lasagna.”

Carbohydrates were her aunt’s solution to pretty much everything. Scrubbing away her tears, Willa untangled herself from Aurele’s hold and scooted sideways. Aurele’s focus immediately drifted to Max, and Willa cleared her throat, sending him a subtle warning to behave. “This is…” Oh jeez, what did she call him? Rescuer? Guy I had amazing monkey sex with twice?

“Max Truitt,” he offered, extending his hand.

Oh yeah. That worked too.

Smiling, Aurele tucked her palm within Max’s much larger one. “It’s lovely to meet any of Willa’s friends. Please call me—” Something strange flickered in Aurele’s eyes and her mouth slackened, her cheery welcome slowly dissolving.

Confused, Willa jerked her stare toward Max, ready to blast him one if he was crushing her aunt’s hand or something equally despicable. But the only thing she noticed was the challenging expression Max wore.

He ended the shake and tipped his head. “Aurele Telluride, I presume?”

Grinding her molars, Willa sent him an incensed glare. “What did I tell you about that?”

“It-it’s okay, Willa dear.”

“No, it’s not. I won’t put up with—”

“He’s right.” Sighing, Aurele raised her hand, turning it palm up. Residual energy in a brilliant shade of aquamarine danced along her skin. “Busted by my own DNA.”

Willa frowned. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“Your aunt is a shark. Just like me.”

The ground beneath Willa’s feet felt unstable. Knees wobbling, she stared at Max, then Aurele. “What? B-but that’s…impossible.”

“No, it isn’t.” Aurele’s fingers trembled as they cupped Willa’s elbow. “This day was never supposed to come. You were never to suspect, much less know.”

Willa swallowed the uneasy disbelief clogging her throat. “Know what? That you’re a shark?”

“Yes, amongst other things.”

“What other things?” Willa demanded, her agitation growing.

Aurele stroked Willa’s arm soothingly. “We can’t have this conversation outside for the entire world to hear.”

Willa glanced around, seeing nothing but the darkened porches of Aurele’s neighbors. “But there’s no one even out here other than us.”

“It’s better to be safe.” Aurele herded her through the doorway. “Spies could be anywhere.”

Spies? Convinced that her life was turning one shade closer to crazy, Willa gulped and stalled her steps just past the entry, hugging her chest.

Max closed the door behind them, his expression pensive. Aurele’s attention shifted to him again, her gaze assessing. “Truitt? You’re Grayson’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Aurele nodded. “I should have noticed the resemblance sooner. You’re the spitting image of him. I always held great respect for your father. We studied at Atlantis University together, you know.”

Max shoved his hands in his pants pockets, his attitude strangely deferential. “Yes, he spoke of you often. He was deeply saddened when he heard about…”

“My death?”

Willa rubbed her temples, the conversation making absolutely no sense. “What do you mean your death? So help me, if one of you doesn’t explain what the hell any of this means, I’m going to go insane.” Oh wait. Too late.

Aurele took Willa’s arm and steered her toward the chintz sofa in the living room. “I’ll tell you everything, but perhaps first I should put some tea on? Or take the lasagna out of the freezer.”

More than familiar with Aurele’s stalling tactics, Willa narrowed her eyes. “I’m not thirsty or hungry. So spill it.”

Exhaling heavily, Aurele perched on the edge of the couch cushion and smoothed the knee of her polyester slacks. “As I’m sure you’ve already deduced, we’re not really blood relatives.” Her shaky hand reached for Willa’s and squeezed. “But I want you to know that I’ve always viewed you as the niece I never had. My love and affection for you is no different than if we did share blood ties. That’s never going to change.”

“But…” Willa shook her head, scrambling to process it all. “Even before my parents died, you were there for every family gathering. Every holiday. My mom called you sister. Why in the world would she do that if you weren’t?”

Aurele pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is going to be so very difficult to explain, much less for you to comprehend.”

“Try me.”

Her aunt—no, apparently that wasn’t correct anymore—peered desperately in Max’s direction. As if he’d be any stinkin’ help. He knew about as much as she did. Or at least she assumed so. To be honest, she doubted anyone on the planet could claim to be as clueless as she at the moment.

Finally Aurele’s scrutiny settled on her. “Willa, your memories aren’t one hundred percent accurate.”

“Not accurate? Uh, I’m pretty certain there’s no possible way I can screw up something like that.”

“There is, since your memories are implants.”

Willa blinked at Aurele. The only implants she was familiar with were the ones that came in silicone and boasted numbers like double D. She kind of doubted that’s what Aurele meant, however.

Max approached the sofa, his features frozen in disbelief. “What do you mean they’re implants? Are you saying her memories aren’t real?”

“Not entirely.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Willa held up a hand, desperate to put an end to this madness. “That’s ridiculous. How could they not be real?” Glomming on to the first thing that popped into her mind, she hiked up the hem of her cargo pants and pointed to the faint white crescent scar just below her kneecap. “I clearly remember getting that when I was seven years old and I fell off my bike after dad removed the training wheels for the first time. Are you telling me it’s not real?”

“The scar is, but the memory is not.”

She couldn’t grasp the insanity that Aurele was suggesting. “Then how did I get it?”

A heavy weariness turned Aurele’s features haggard. Her gaze roved to Max before once more meeting Willa’s. “I don’t recall the precise means, but I know you got it the day we escaped Atlantis. The day your parents were murdered.”