Chapter 7
Sable
It’s happening again. That same stiffness in my neck. The muted edges of my vision. That in-between feeling in my limbs.
Only this time, it doesn’t take so long to make sense of up from down, or why I’m lying on the dirty floor, staring at a pair of men’s boots illuminated by the morning light.
The fucker killed me.
Again.
That’s the—how many-th time now?
I wouldn’t have fallen through the ceiling and smashed my skull against the concrete floor in the basement if he hadn’t been chasing me.
This is really starting to get old. He trapped me here. I’m the one who should be running around snapping his goddamn neck.
I gag on a cry from the crack that tears down my spine as I sit up.
Oh God. It hurts like a real bitch this time.
“Stop crying.”
Fucking jackass.
The words don’t come out as I carefully pull myself onto shaky legs.
The room spins, and my orientation realigns at a crooked angle.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that it means I’m not looking at the psychopath, but I need at least two seconds to consciously avoid falling through the floor again so I don’t die again like a fucking idiot.
I’m not sure why it happened, but I know I can’t go through it again. Not only is it painful, and wholly unpleasant, I don’t trust the thing in front of me one bit. Who knows what crazy shitheads like him get up to?
My brows draw together when I reopen my eyes, expecting to see the drab basement.
Except I’m back in the kitchen.
Did he…? My throat bobs, and my internal temperature drops from chilled to downright frozen when I spot the dining chair and the pile of ropes beside it.
Did he try tying me up?
Dear fucking God. He was going to torture me.
Note to self: stay as far-far-far away from my murderer as possible—which is going to prove impossible if I can’t set foot outside of the property and he keeps following me around.
Of all the places to be trapped, why the hell does it have to be here? My childhood home—an everlasting symbol of everything that’s gone wrong in my life. Case in point, this entire situation.
The man’s impatient sigh has my attention snapping up to him. I inch back, eyes watering despite willing them to stop with everything I have. I hate how weak I look—feel. Another tear trickles down my cheek, and I bat it away, hoping he doesn’t notice.
I’ve cried more in the past twenty-four hours than I have since the week Ella died. I never cried in front of people—ever. Not even at Ella’s funeral. It’s unbecoming for an Eldrith to be emotional, and I was always the one with too much emotion.
Ella and I were both raised to sit prim and proper, speak cordially and respectfully, and, in her case, know when to go for the jugular. Emotions are a sign of weakness. It makes us seem human, and we Eldriths are more than mere mortals.
We’re the best. Above everyone else. So we need to carry ourselves in the same way.
Not exactly words to live by if they resulted in the only living members of our family behind locked bars for white-collar crimes, and my mother has been batshit crazy since the very get-go.
Being an Eldrith didn’t exactly give me a sense of superiority when I was living off two-minute noodles in a shitty apartment.
But these tears feel useless and so utterly pathetic.
I fist my hands and try to stabilize my breathing. Still, my voice comes out littered with stutters and cracks. “I just want to leave. W-why can’t I leave?”
He steps forward, and I stumble back on reflex.
“That’s the question I’m asking you. Whatever you’ve done, undo it. Release me.”
“Release you? I—I didn’t do anything.” None of this is making sense. Why is he here? And why… why is he the only thing I’m able to touch?
He kicks a book toward me. “Show me the spell you used.”
The… huh? I blink hard. No. It’s a stupid book from Grandma, and I was drunk for Christ’s sake. Magic isn’t real. The spell was fake.
“I… It wasn’t actually going to work.” Not that I’d know.
He showed up and ruined everything. Ella’s spirit could’ve been on the way.
Or more likely, it was all a drunken, idiotic endeavor that’s ended with me being killed at the hands of someone illegally squatting in my manor.
He probably lives here and showed up while I was trying to call for my sister because he was upset about the intrusion.
It doesn’t explain why he can see me, or why he’s the only thing I’m able to touch, but it’s the most logical conclusion.
Plus, what does he mean by release him? He’s free to leave whenever he likes, while I’m trapped here because of him.
“Fix it,” he snarls.
My hackles rise at his venomous tone. “Fix it? You’re alive, and I’m—I’m…” Motioning a hand toward myself, my stomach sours.
“You’re dead,” he finishes for me. “Get over it. Figure it out or I’ll show you all the fun tricks I learned in Hell.”
What metaphorical hell is he talking about? What the fuck does he expect me to figure out? I’m a goddamn ghost—I can’t do jack shit. I can’t even stop these stupid freaking tears.
“This—this is your fault,” I snarl. I’m dead and so is Ella. He can get over himself and leave.
“Mine? You summoned me.”
Summoned? No, that can’t… The memory of burning red eyes and growing shadows flashes behind my eyes.
I shake my head. “You killed me! And I was—” Trying to talk to Ella’s spirit using the book he kicked toward me when he appeared in the middle of the summoning circle. My gaze falls to the grimoire on the floor, and a string connects the dots.
Oh.
“Fuck.”
No. No. I was just seeing things before I died. Like life-flashing-before-my-eyes bullshit. Not…
A shiver works down my spine, and I take another step back, trying to make myself as small as possible as I inch toward the exit. I glance at the door, debating whether or not to make a run for it.
If what he said is true, and if Ella’s book has anything to do with what’s happening, he’s here because of me. And if he’s here because I “summoned” him, then…
I fucked up.
“W—” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Who are you?”
My dead heart hammers in my chest as I study him. There’s something unnatural about him and the way he moves. How he glares down his nose at me. The slight menacing tilt in his chin. The way he seems to vibrate with energy when everything else is blurry and cold. How didn’t I notice before?
He narrows his eyes at me. “No, I think that’s not the question you want to ask.”
I can’t take these games. “Where did you come from? Why are you here?” What do you want with me?
It’s like the air around him sizzles with his rage, and I swear the shadows mold around him. I’m sure if I were a solid being, I’d feel the ground shake beneath my feet as he stalks forward.
“You’re wasting my time.” His growl rushes down my spine in a wave I can feel in the darkest depths of my soul. “You have one more chance to use that useless brain of yours before I decide to get creative in ensuring your death is more permanent.”
He… he can do that?
My knees threaten to give out from under me. I know what he’s expecting me to say. I know his answer isn’t what I’ll want to hear. I’ve never been superstitious, but I’ve watched enough TV to get the gist of the shitshow I’m in.
My mouth refuses to form the question, but I know one thing to be true.
He’s not human.
“What are you?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Those blue eyes sharpen. “There it is.” His voice rattles the walls like a clap of thunder.
I flinch. Clamping down on the inside of my cheek, I will myself to show some semblance of strength. Be the unshakeable Eldrith I’m supposed to be—but I’m barely a fucking Eldrith anymore. I’m just traumatized and scrambling for a crumb of normality.
My entire life, I watched my parents walk all over people. The moment they saw any sign of weakness, they poked and prodded, manipulated and lied, until they got what they wanted.
Now Ella? She was an Eldrith. A good one with a heart. That was never me.
My family comes—or came—from old money. This manor was built by my great-greats. Way back when, they were one of the big names that ran this country. It stayed that way for centuries, and despite the industry they were known for, they opted to be recognized by a specific symbol.
Not wood, iron, coal, or oil—a key.
The message was simple: Eldriths hold the key to the universe. We hold the cards. We decide the game. No one moves unless we allow it.
At least, that’s how it used to be.
But with every generation that passed, our hands grew weaker until the house fell. Who’s to blame? The Feds for showing up, or my parents for screwing up?
Standing here in this waking nightmare, before this thing that is no man, I wonder how much further I can fall.
The cracks already run deep. The foundations are disintegrating.
If the roof falls over my head, this man will still be in front of me, and I’ll still be trapped here with him, and I’m sure he could do far worse than just break my neck.
Don’t show emotion. Show teeth, my mother used to say.
Or at least that’s what she used to say to Ella. She never gave me any words of wisdom unless she was berating me. I’ve never been able to separate feelings from my responses anyway.
My teeth have dulled this past year, but they’re still there. I feel it beneath the surface, simmering, biding its time as the well that is my rage refills. It’s a familiar friend, that anger. But right now it’s doused by fear.
Raising my chin, I force a mask into place. It’s flimsy at best, with fraying ribbons and peeling leather, but it’s still a mask that dries the tears.
“So? Are you…?” Eldriths don’t ask, Ella. They tell. I can hear my mother’s voice as if she’s whispering in my ear, and that’s just pissing me off.
Fuck her for being the person I think about in a moment like this.
“You’re a ghost too,” I decide.
“Wrong.” A crooked smile spreads across his face. “A demon.”