21 Jasper #2
The wraith shakes his cowled head, stifling a hiss of anger.
“She is so much more than an art dealer. All her work in art and antiquities is merely the legitimate face she shows the world. Beneath the surface, she is Winthrop’s leading purveyor of black-market magical artifacts—grimoires, enchanted objects, cursed items. And that trade is nothing on the trade she does for more illicit magical goods and services.
Like I said, you have no idea who hunts you. ”
The urgency in his tone has me nodding. “Fine. Ludmilla’s a problem. You don’t have to tell me twice. Any idea how to fake my death?”
The wraith reaches a skeletal hand inside the front of his dark robes and pulls out a folded paper.
Slowly, he extends his arm, offering it to me.
Unfolding the paper, I glance down. It’s a certificate of death, signed this very night.
Goosebumps flash down my arms as I read my own name in bold typewriter font: PRESCOTT, JASPER LYONS.
According to this very legitimate-looking document, I’m dead. I keep reading. Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest. Then I check the bottom of the form and read aloud, “Barnes & Sons Mortuary Services?” I look to the wraith. “There is no Barnes & Sons on this island.”
“There is now. That’s a certified copy,” he adds, pointing to the paper. “The original has already been filed on behalf of your grieving coven. Expect flowers to begin arriving with the rising of the sun.”
Refolding the certificate, I tuck it in the back pocket of my jeans. “You work fast.”
“Time is not on our side.”
“You know, faking a death certificate is all kinds of illegal.”
He shrugs again. “Wraiths care little for the paltry legalities of mortals. Not when your laws are designed by cruel and powerful men intent only on keeping that power. You’ll find wraiths are far more egalitarian.”
I fight an amused smile. Apparently, wraiths shrug.
They also experience emotions, and they have a moral code.
Who knew? I always assumed they were unfeeling creatures, little more than supernatural soul-sucking vacuums. I cross my arms, holding his gaze.
“The certificate covers me dying. How do you expect me to stay dead?”
Reaching into his robes, the wraith pulls out a charm on a thin silver chain. With the chain fisted in his hand, he extends his arm once more. The charm sways, glinting faintly in the light from the moon.
I make no move to take it. “What is it?”
“A ward against unwanted eyes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“A friend.”
I roll my eyes. “You know, this trust thing goes both ways, right? I’m putting a hell of a lot of trust in you to play dead. Maybe you put a little trust in me too. You just said you work for a witch who deals in cursed objects, so I ask again: Where did you get the talisman?”
He’s quiet for a moment, clearly considering how far to trust me. “A mage.”
I curse under my breath. Fucking mages. As if that’s any better than a cursed-object-slinging witch. In my experience, all mages are mad as snakes.
“It’s quite safe,” he assures me. “And effective. You simply put this on and say the names of those individuals you want to still be able to see you. I suggest you keep the list small for now, only the names of your most trusted coven members. To all others, their eyes will simply pass over you.”
Curious, I reach out, letting my finger and thumb pluck the swaying charm from the air. It’s a simple evil eye pendant. There’s a whisper of unknown magic buried in the resin of the eye. The taste of it sparks on my tongue. The metal backing is cool to the touch.
The wraith lets the chain slip from his fingers as he glances to the sky. “Put it on. Her ravens could fly by at any moment.”
I curse again. “The ravens are her work?”
He nods. “Ludmilla calls them her Eyes. With the pendant on, they won’t be able to see you.”
“How does she slip them past my island’s wards?”
“They’re a clever working of demon spell craft,” he explains. “The ravens carry the same magical signature as a ghost . . . which can pass through your wards. They’re rudimentary at best. They must get quite close to hear you. But they can see you. Which is why you must never take the pendant off.”
Fucking hell. No wonder I hate those damn birds. I knew there was something unnatural about them. Goddess, hear me, I will rip every raven on this island from the sky. I slip the necklace over my head.
“How does it feel?”
The thin chain is cold as it kisses the skin at the back of my neck. The pendant is no bigger than a thumbnail, resting at the top of my sternum. I glance to the wraith. “Can you still see me?”
“Of course. No veil of magic can hide you from me. Besides, there is nowhere you can go and no form you can take that I wouldn’t know the glow of your soul.”
Well, shit. There goes my escape plan.
“But it will work well enough against other beings,” he assures me. “Now . . . about the human.”
I don’t need to ask to know who he’s talking about. “What about her?”
“I need to see her. I have questions—”
“No.” On instinct, I angle myself on the path between the wraith and the house. “Birdie is off limits. Do you understand me?”
The wraith goes deathly still. “Birdie,” he whispers on a hushed breath. “Is that her name?”
Oh, godsdamn it. I forgot about wraiths and their fascination with names. I clench my jaw tight, saying nothing.
He swoops forward, one hand fisting tight to my shirt as the other wraps around my throat. He presses his cowled face close to mine. “Is that her name? Tell me!”
I shove against him. “Fuck—get off—”
“Tell me her name!”
“No—ah—” At his command, my soul lifts in my chest, pressing against the walls of my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage. Oh fuck, this is some kind of magic. “What are you doing to me?”
“Is that her name?” he hisses in my face.
He pulls the words from me, easy as sap from a tree. My body wants to fight like hell but my lips part. “Yes,” I pant.
“Say it again.”
“Birdie—Rhodes—” Her last name is yanked from me with the violence of ripping a rib from my chest. Yet, once the name is spoken, I feel an odd sense of peace. The wraith is soothing the pain. Satisfied, he lets me go. I’m left trembling, rubbing a hand over the phantom ache in my chest.
“Birdie,” he whispers again. The rasp in his voice is covetous. I feel it like nails clawing the back of my neck. “Birdie Rhodes . . . Birdie Rhodes—”
“Stop saying it like that! And leave her alone. She has nothing to do with any of this.”
I swear, it feels like the wraith is smirking at me. “We both know that’s not true. How did she do it? I know you asked her already.”
“Fuck you.”
He sighs, looking me up and down. “Oh, sweet witch, if only. You have no idea what I could do to that body. The ways I would please it . . . anything to make your soul shine just a little brighter before I devour it.”
I groan, fighting the pull of his words. Shadows creep out from him, reaching for me with curling tendrils. I slap one away, scattering it into mist. “I’ll die before I let you touch me!”
The wraith actually chuckles, his shadows gently recoiling. “Your aura makes a liar of you, witch. In the alley you were afraid of me. Now you’re not. You’re intrigued. I see how you yearn to fight each time I tease you—”
“Fuck you,” I snap again.
He reaches out with a skeletal hand, ghosting it over my shoulder and down my arm. “Offer a third time, witch. I dare you.”
My mouth stays shut, even as I keep glaring.
He inches close enough to whisper in my ear. “If only you could feel the depths of the restraint I am showing you now . . . you wouldn’t toy with me so carelessly. Not when this shared wanting is enough to tear us both apart.”
He thinks I want him? Oh, this is so fucking fucked. Changing the subject, I hold him with my glare. “Why do you need Birdie?”
“The same reason you do,” he replies, stroking a bony finger along my jaw.
“Now that I’ve tasted your soul, you have no idea how difficult it will be for me to let you live.
Even now, being this close to you again, all I want to do is wrap my arms around you, press my mouth to yours, and drain you dry. ”
I bat his hand away. “But you won’t. You need me alive to kill Ludmilla for you, remember?”
“What I need and what I want are two forces at war within me, witch. We’ll need to keep the human close.
If she can stop me from devouring souls, that makes her priceless.
Nothing must come between me and my vengeance.
Not even my hunger. I will spare you, but it will not be easy.
Without sweet Birdie as a shield between us, I fear it will be impossible. ”
“She doesn’t know anything about magic. She’s an innocent. We’re meant to protect the innocent. Besides, I can’t bring her in any closer. My coven doesn’t accept humans.”
He sighs. “My sweet, lonely witch, we both know it’s too late to save her. And perhaps it’s time for your coven to evolve.”
I huff. “Yeah. Wouldn’t that be a trick?”
“We evolve or we die.”
My stomach sinks as I accept the truth of his words.
I was a fool to think I could send Birdie away.
He’s right, we need her. She’s in this now.
“So, what do we do? I invite you in, you scare the shit out of Birdie, and we tell her all about magic while we live like one big, happy coven, plotting over the kitchen table how to kill your mistress?”
“Not quite.”
“Then what?”