1. Chapter I
Chapter I
Emily
Present. Age 29
S ometimes the secrets of your past can haunt you regardless of whether you’re awake or asleep.
The closer I came to uncovering the truth, the further I got from understanding what really took place. No matter how many times I stood in this exact spot and tried to recreate the fragmented memories of that fiery night, it was like forcing the jagged edge of a puzzle piece to fit into the wrong fucking puzzle.
An ache began to spread in my chest the longer I recounted the image of what once was. It wasn’t just a house, it was a home. My mother and I were happy here and there were so many memories wrapped up in this place, but standing this close to the property just reminded me of how much I lost that night.
Hiding beneath the shadows of each overhanging tree, I carefully avoided the roaming Spirits of the in-between. They could sense me, though. They knew I didn’t belong and my presence made them curious. As long as I kept to myself and didn’t catch their attention, I’d be fine.
In this state, I could see and feel everything, from the thick humid air to the misting rain in the dead of night. It was as if I was physically there, but my body was still home, safely slumbering beside my Familiar as he watched over me and kept me tethered to the living.
A heady mixture of smoked wood and warm vanilla washed over me as I paused to look again at the charred rubble where it happened all those years ago. I’d been hunted and haunted by many beings throughout my life, most of which I could identify, but the magical signature behind me now was pitch fucking black and strong.
This wasn’t the first time that I’d felt his presence, though. I felt his dark aura in my waking state as well. Whoever this man was, he was far more powerful than any ordinary Supe and it made me that much more curious about him.
The sensation of a warm breath against my neck caused me to shiver. I clenched my thighs together, seeking friction to relieve the sudden wave of lust that pooled low in my belly. I was drawn to this man by some unexplainable pull. Like a moth to a pyre, I ached to see just how close I could get before I was engulfed in flame.
Blood pounded loudly in my ears and burning hot desire slicked my inner thighs as I slowly turned to face him.
I woke up well before sunrise, cursing myself for becoming distracted by the man that haunted me and even more pissed off that yet again, when I turned around to confront him, he was gone. He rarely ever lingered when I caught him watching me, but he lived in my head rent fucking free regardless.
Forcing myself to get up, I was careful not to disturb Ghost, my cantankerous Familiar, as I flipped on the lamp and dragged my tired ass out of bed in search of clothes for the day. I slipped my arms into a worn band tee, rifled through the top drawer of my dresser with a yawn, and grabbed a thong, before shimmying into a tight pair of torn black jeans.
My “RAWR XD” and Warped Tour days were long behind me, but contrary to popular belief, my concert tees, black coffin shaped nails, heavy eyeliner, and award winning RBF were not “just a phase.”
I’d pretty much always rocked the whole Wednesday Addams vibe, which was apparently off putting to most, but fuck if I was ever changing for anyone ever again. I gladly accepted the title of the Weird Goth Chick here in Diremore, the town that I’d moved to last year to find a fresh start, but that wasn’t all I was referred to as.
The people here called me a “Heathen” and my personal favorite, “Satan’s Spawn.” To be fair, it probably didn’t help my case that I painted my whole Victorian house black from the inside-out and drove a blacked out 1959 Cadillac Hearse around town.
The mothers held their children a little closer as they passed me and would often mutter “Hail Marys” under their breath when they saw me out and about, as if clutching their pearls and Rosaries would keep me away.
It didn’t matter what they referred to me as or what they thought of me, the townsfolk gave both my home and I a wide berth. I liked the privacy that it provided, so in all honesty, they were doing me a favor.
Mortals didn’t do well with the supernatural and a little bit of fear kept them from getting too close to the answers that their pitiful little brains just couldn’t comprehend. Of course, there were myths and legends surrounding the world I existed in, but most mortals lived their entire lives completely unaware that Supes like myself lived amongst them. It was up to us to keep it that way.
I’d opened Ink & Dagger , a studio for tattoos and tarot readings on the outskirts of town shortly after moving here. While the drive to work typically took longer than I preferred, I always woke up early enough to grab a coffee on my way in, open up the studio, and read while I waited for my first client.
Grabbing my small backpack stuffed with a nutritious breakfast of peach rings and Skittles, I scratched at an irritated spot on my shoulder blades and waited for Ghost to meet me in the kitchen to start our day. I thought about opening my mouth to thank him for last night as we climbed into the hearse, but I didn’t bother. He hated when I went to the in-between and I didn’t want to start a fight this early in the morning.
As I pulled my car up to the window to pay for my double shot espresso macchiato, I felt it again. The heavy presence of my mystery man. He was watching me. It felt like he was always watching me.
At first I thought he was a Supernatural hitman, coming to finish the job that the fire failed to do years ago, but it had been a year now since he’d begun following me and here I was, still alive. Better than alive, actually. In the past year since he’d been around, there hadn’t been any freak accidents or near deaths. I was taking that as a win.
Once I’d realized he wasn’t here to harm me, something about him being nearby made me feel safer. Like the Devil on my shoulder keeping me out of trouble. Or was that getting me into trouble? I couldn’t be sure whether it was a blessing or a curse based on my wild, unreasonable attraction to him. Either way, it was nice knowing he was there. Although, every time I managed to catch a glimpse of my elusive stalker, I lost all reason and could barely string together enough words to confront him.
I shook my head like an etch-a-sketch to dislodge the one and only image I had of his heated gaze from my mind as I reached for my coffee, left the barista a tip, and set my hearse in drive while Ghost slept in the passenger seat beside me. It was just me, my Familiar, and my collection of smutty romance novels nowadays. It was safer that way. Maiden knows I hadn’t been getting any action since my breakup with my shitty ex-fiancé.
I’d left him after three years, when I realized that we were never compatible. Erik wanted a silent, subservient Luna, a packhouse filled with the latest designer garb, and to live like a bachelor with the perks of being Mated. Meanwhile, I wanted him to stop drinking, quit fucking everything with two legs and a hole, and to control his temper. To say he never did would be putting it lightly. That’s what I get for playing house with a Lycan, though. I think the only real reason that I stayed with him for as long as I did was because of his knot. Sex with a Lycan was top notch quality. Still, it didn’t excuse his shitty personality.
Some delusional part of him was still convinced that we were just taking a break and that I’d come back. Since the day I left, he’d been obsessively drunk calling me every few weeks and stalking my studio from time to time. It didn’t matter how far I moved to get away from him or how many charms I put up to keep him away, he’d still return.
I wanted nothing to do with that life or any romantic life, for that matter. Instead, I chose to live vicariously through my girl Bailey, who was currently getting railed by a psycho Spirit in a book by one of my favorite authors. Oh, what I would give to be Bailey right now.
Her best friend was a lot like mine, red-headed, bubbly, and feisty. We were thicker than thieves, Charlie and I. Like all young Witches within the coven, we were raised like sisters, but unlike the others, she was my ride or die. There weren’t many memories that I had that didn’t include her. We’d been inseparable almost our entire lives. That is, until I moved away.
Charlie practically lived with mom and I growing up, but when my mother died in the fire, I had nowhere to go. No remaining family to take me in or teach me the ropes of being a Witch.
Agatha, Charlie’s surrogate grandmother moved me into the coven house and raised me as one of her own. Thank the Triple Goddess for that, because living with the mortals during my short time in the foster system was tough enough. Coming into my full powers in a mortal household would have been unbearable considering my magic had gone on the fritz for a week before I’d bonded to Ghost.
Charlie and I couldn’t be together during that long week. Anytime we got within a room of each other, chaos would ensue. Lights would flicker and the walls would shake. Hell, I’m pretty sure that Asheville experienced its first earthquake that week.
Things got better after Ghost appeared, though. He kept me stable. Days later, Charlie acquired her own Familiar and we hadn’t had any issues since. No one could explain what caused our magic to respond like that, but it just reinforced what I already knew. There was a bond between us that couldn’t be severed and we were stronger together.