Marked By Masks and Secrets (Everlasting Possession #1)

20

EVIE

I t was rare these days for me to wake up from a slumber without nightmares. This morning was one of those blissful rarities.

I groggily opened my eyes and stretched, feeling more restful than I had in days.

The sun was bright, a cool, fresh air rolling over my body from the?—

I stiffened.

My head snapped to the side to stare at the gently billowing white curtains. My feet hit the ground in the next breath, quickly pulling the window shut.

I stared at my empty bed for two beats before quickly walking through the rest of the cottage. He wouldn’t have been able to access my spell room, thankfully. Everywhere else was clear.

And while I should’ve been glad for that, I felt something entirely inappropriate instead.

Disappointment rooted in my belly.

It was silly and childish and frankly, insane. I mean, what ? Did I expect the masked vampire who’d been stalking me for weeks to be wearing an apron and cooking me pancakes in the kitchen?

The thought of that tall, muscular, tattooed body in only an apron was both strangely sexy and ridiculously absurd.

I ran a hand over my face. The only thing I could do was pad into the kitchen to get rid of my coffee withdrawal headache. As I poured the hot, bitter goodness into my tallest mug, my insides squirmed.

Because now I was remembering how that unhinged psycho touched me. That broad hand around my throat… The way he wouldn’t let me run from him, his shadows holding me in place, the ecstasy that had coursed through my veins when I finally, finally ?—

Overflowing coffee splattered onto the counter and my arm, scalding my skin. I yelped. I set the coffee press down and quickly ran cool water over my burns at the sink.

And that was when I noticed where the hands rested on my pastel pink clock on the counter.

I cursed.

I didn’t have time to spare, but I chugged my coffee, anyway.

The storefront of Celeste’s was an ancient building painted black, with flowers blooming in the upstairs windows and ferns and vines draping down the sides. More potted plants, herbs, garden decor, and faerie gardens were displayed out front. There were also a few giant amethyst slabs and geodes to indicate the witchy goods inside.

The energy of the trinkets and plants called to me. Some of the energies were intrigued, while others wanted to communicate with me or advance their own personal agendas. The spirit of a red rose bush was especially mouthy, for reasons I couldn’t begin to imagine.

“I’m not currently available, but thank you for your interest,” I said curtly as I passed, fortifying my own energy and closing out the barrage of spirit communication.

Inside the shop, the general aura was as usual. Tables and shelves of goods were dispersed throughout the space. Natural light streamed through the windows, and arrangements of flowers reached toward the sun.

The only hint of distress in the energetic field came from the counter in the back, where one of my regulars, Cecil, talked to a co-owner, Marietta.

“Look—she’s here,” Marietta said, clearly trying to keep a calm, easy demeanor in the face of Cecil’s chronically perturbed one.

His energy changed the moment he turned and saw me. His wrinkled, human features shifted into relief. When he smiled, I couldn’t help but smile too.

“Evie!” he exclaimed, facing me. His white hair was wispy and cloud-like, his eyes a murky hazel. “I was so worried. I know how much you love the university libraries. When I heard the news, I prayed to Helia, and Selena too, that you weren’t caught up in the violence.”

Marietta shook her head. “Fucking born,” she muttered under her breath.

Ugly, prickly guilt crept up my spine. I hated that I’d endangered mortals by using that wretched, violent magick inside me.

However, I didn’t regret killing that blasphemous witch. I was glad for it, even. She’d been too close to Idris.

And I wasn’t ready to examine what that truth meant about who I really was, at my core.

My smile faltered, but I was well-versed in hiding from ghosts. “Thank you, Cecil,” I said quickly. I grounded myself in his genuine show of paternal care, the way it touched my frightened, wounded heart. “How are you doing? How’s the neck?”

The healing salve I’d made for him was crafted to ease his chronic pain, no doubt from years spent hunched over a desk studying religious texts. He was a scholar of Helianic mysticism.

“It’s just wonderful,” he said. “Feels better than it has in decades. Not to mention, you’ve provided me an excellent excuse to ask Jill for massages.” He winked.

I laughed. Jill was his wife. I loved watching them together—the way she seemed both hopelessly in love and endlessly annoyed with Cecil both at the same time. It was a comforting, uniquely human depiction of devotion.

“Did you need anything else from me?” I asked.

I hadn’t been called to make anything specifically for Cecil this week, but he was remarkably good at coming up with various mental and physical ailments that warranted special orders. It was flattering, and I loved being of service to good, hard-working humans trying to live meaningful lives surrounded by senseless violence.

He shook his head. “No, no. Was just curious about what you’d cooked up this week! And I’m buying flowers for Jill, on account of all the massages…” He scratched his chin, his grin impish.

Marietta and one of the meandering workers approached to help me unload my wagon. Bundles of herbs, special floral arrangements, a few satchels of tea, and a collection of anointed candles were packed with care.

“The candles are for protection,” I said to Quill, a short man with tan skin and thick black hair.

He lazily saluted me with a flirtatious grin, reaching for my candles to stock the shelves. “I keep waiting for you to bring goods for evil and mischief. Still only doing pretty faerie magick for love and light?” he teased.

“I only do evil mischievous magick for you, Quill,” I said with a smile. “Why do you think you have such horrid luck with women?”

Quill clutched his chest. “Oh, thank the gods. I thought that was because of my personality.”

Marietta snorted. “No, it definitely is.” She eyed the plants I’d brought. “Those are gorgeous, Evie. Great condition. Have you ever thought of buying some land to produce more?”

I shrugged. I kept my schemes close to my chest. I had a feeling Marietta was fishing, just like the other owners, about my future plans. It was no secret that my products sold instantly, developing their own cult following that was only growing stronger.

“It’s the magick that’s special,” Cecil said. “Everything else is a prop.”

Cecil knew more than what was good for him.

I shifted under their curiosity and intrigue, quickly changing the subject to explanations on the goods I’d brought.

Marietta eyed me after we were done. I watched several humans and witches rush into the shop, all searching for the new stock. I needed to start coming in on different days each week. They’d learned my schedule.

I slowly met the shop owner’s gaze.

Her curly brown hair was in a loose bun, her rich brown eyes sharp. “You seem different.”

“Different how?”

“Hey, Evie!” someone called, interrupting us.

I tentatively waved to the teenage witch who’d snatched up one of my candles. She was just starting to develop divinatory powers.

“Last year, you would’ve shriveled away from all of this attention,” Marietta said, her lips quirking up. “You’re coming into yourself, I think. It’s a joy to see.”

I still didn’t particularly love all the eyes on me. Standing out meant I was more visible. And being visible meant I wasn’t safe.

But I was fulfilling my purpose, and I was proud of my work in a way that trumped all fear. I had to use my magick for good. Or else I’d fade away.

I blushed under Marietta’s scrutiny. “I was recently relieved of some dead weight.”

Her smile widened. She knew exactly what I meant. Like everyone else who cared about me, she was not Jacob’s biggest fan.

“Thank the gods,” she said, lightly bumping my shoulders. “Was wondering when you were going to kick that weasel to the curb.”

I giggled. The afternoon light warmed my face, and for a moment, I felt peaceful. Like I was standing exactly where I needed to be, in perfect alignment with the flow of the universe.

“He was a small man, Evie. That was why he was so determined to make you even smaller than he felt inside,” Marietta said softly. “You have to be more discerning in the future. Just because someone is drawn to your light, doesn’t mean they’re made of light themselves. Some recognize that you hold something they will never have, and they will do anything, anything at all, to try to starve that radiance until it dies. Because they’d rather you both live in darkness than for you to be the only one to shine.”

Those words slammed into me as full-body chills swept over my skin. The spirits made it clear when it was time to listen with an open heart. This was one of those moments.

The truth was often just as painful as it was useful. Liberation was only possible after total destruction of everything we once thought we knew.

I looked down at my Mary Jane’s, the frilly socks that came to my ankles. The lump in my throat grew until I finally accepted and integrated Marietta’s words into my soul.

“Thank you, Marietta,” I whispered. “You were right about him. I don’t regret any of it. People are messengers, even when the lessons they teach us are brutal and unforgiving.”

The lump dissolved. I wiped away a stray tear.

Marietta smiled knowingly and rubbed my shoulder. “You’re brilliant, Evie. You’re going to be something. Don’t you ever let a man hold you back from your destiny.” She wrinkled her nose.

“If you ever see me repeating the same pattern, please spray me with that water bottle you use on Prince Worthington.”

Prince Worthington was the little black cat that roamed Celeste’s, causing all manner of mischief and mayhem in his wake.

Marietta threw her head back with a cackle. “Deal. Just remember that’s what you asked for.” She raised her hands in the air and waggled a finger before leaving me to help a customer.

I thought of my masked vampire stalker and frowned. How could the embodiment of shadow and death ever do anything but drain the light from my soul?

I begged my body to feel hatred or fear—to lean into this feral paranoia trying desperately to protect me from oblivion.

But all I felt was stubborn, childish euphoria. Hope. A flutter in my stomach, a course of sharp desire in my blood that swelled between my thighs.

I wondered if he was close by, watching me from the shadows. More heat flooded my system, my nipples pebbling under my pastel pink dress.

Would I find liberation when that weaponized, tattooed body devoured me whole?