Chapter 6
Dove glaredat her locked door, her left eye twitching. Three days! She kinked her fingers into crooked claws and shook them at the unforgiving barrier. “Three days!” Getting into character, she grabbed a fringe-trimmed shawl she’d purchased from Celeste and slung it over her head. Posed in front of a full-length mirror, she rounded her shoulders and screwed up her face. “Three days,” she snarled like a woman crazed. And she was… crazed.
“Dang it. How much longer does he expect me to stay in here?” She whipped the shawl off and flung it to the floor. When her incarceration started, she’d decided to put a positive spin on her punishment, thinking of it as “me” time. She’d have so much fun, Steele would think twice before sending her to her room again.
Day one, she’d practiced yoga for hours, meditated, and watched crazy cat videos.
Day two was spa day. She soaked in the massive tub, her face slathered in avocado and raw egg, while drinking multiple green smoothies.
Day three and her face itched, her muscles hurt, her stomach was upset, and cats were stupid. Day three and she’d stayed in her favorite rainbow pajamas. Day three and she was losing her mind. She eyed the windows for the hundredth time. The sun was setting. She’d done her time. Where the heck was Steele with her pardon?
Her cell phone chimed with a text from Celeste. Thank goodness they’d exchanged numbers. With Armond off-grid and Vivian on the run, she’d had no one to talk to. Celeste had been a lifesaver. Her only connection to the outside world.
You still doing time in the slammer?
Yes!she texted back. Steele is supposed to be home tonight. After locking her up, he’d gone on a business trip, leaving Ida as her jailer. Poor woman, he really should give her a raise.
Can’t believe he grounded you.
Same.Steele was diabolical. He hardly knew her, and yet he’d concocted the worst punishment imaginable.
Did you complete the warding?
Finished it this morning. You?She hadn’t been in a hurry, so sick of solitary confinement even a visit from a ghost had started to sound good.
Did mine yesterday. No sign of Mr. Stabby.
Glad to hear it.She’d caused Celeste enough trouble already.
The doorknob jiggled and Dove’s breath caught. She fired off a quick message. Gotta go. Ida is here to spring me. She stuffed the too-big phone into her straining pocket and leapt across the room. Ida swung the door open and Dove hit the brakes inches shy of crashing into her. “Finally!” she shouted.
Ida yelped and grabbed her chest. “Goddess save me, child. Are you trying to stop my heart?”
“Sorry.” Dove stepped back while Ida made her way to the dirty dishes on the side table. “Is he home? What did he say? Can I come out now?” Dove shuffled after her, crowding in close, almost stepping on the housekeeper’s heels.
Ida turned with the dishes in her hands, and they collided. The elderly woman cast her eyes to the ceiling, muttering under her breath. She clenched the tray as though bracing. “Lord Steele has returned from his trip.”
“Yes!” Dove pumped her fist in the air. Freedom was hers.
“And has yet to release you due to the late hour.”
“No.” Dove’s fist plummeted to earth. “But that’s not fair. It’s been three days. He can’t keep me in here forever.” If he tried, she’d shout pumpernickel so fast she’d knock the hood right off his condescending head. Although she’d have to say the word to him directly, and Steele was making that impossible.
“Not to worry, I’m sure he’ll see you settled tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That’s like twelve million hours from now. Can’t you tell him I need to speak with him?”
Ida shuffled toward the exit. “Sorry, dear. There’s nothing I can do. Lord Steele gave strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed this evening.”
“But, but—” The door swung closed behind Ida, and the lock snicked into place.
“Argh!” Dove raked her fingers down her face and dropped to her knees, glaring at the door. “Go, go laser vision!” She narrowed her eyes at the keyhole. Nope. “Open sesame.” She waved her hands, casting an imaginary spell. Nothing. She sank back on her heels. Why couldn’t she have manifested a useful supernatural gift like telekinesis?
Her hip buzzed, and she checked her phone. It was Celeste.
How does freedom taste?
Dove scowled at the screen, punching in her response. My bail was denied.
I’m sure he’ll let you out in the morning.
She nibbled her lip, eyeing the lock on her door, and an idea took shape. Perhaps she did have one rusty skill at her disposal.
Her thumbs blazed across the digital keys. Heck with that. I’m busting out of this joint.
Wasn’t the point of this punishment a lesson in reckless decisions?
Whose side are you on?
Yours. Go for it.
What felt like ten years later, Dove kneeled before the keyhole. On the floor beside her was a broken nail file, half a dozen bent bobby pins, and Steele’s mangled credit card. All failures. She wiggled the paperclip into the opening. “Come on, baby. Open for Mamma.” While at Havenhouse, she’d gotten caught sneaking out of her room numerous times. When they started locking her in at night, she’d taught herself to pick locks.
The tumbler rolled in the chamber and her breath hitched. Did she do it? The doorknob twisted free. Ha! And Armond believed she had a short attention span, flitting from one distraction to the next. When she really set her mind to it, her focus was a magnifying glass in an eight-year-old’s hand, blazing down on an unsuspecting ant.
She eased to her feet and cracked the door open. Fresh air wafted over her face, and she drew in a deep breath. So what if it was just as fresh as the air in her bedroom? This air smelled different. It smelled like freedom. Better than freedom, it smelled like Marcus Steele could suck it.
In her defense, she’d totally fulfilled her end of his childish punishment. It was Steele who hadn’t fulfilled his. She was simply rectifying the oversight.
She poked her head out. At this hour, Ida was long gone. Dove’s cushy socks muffled her footsteps on the hardwood floors. Unlike Havenhouse, Steele’s penthouse was squeak-proof, the floors solid beneath her feet. Tight as his lordship’s ass.
She slunk into the great room. Once there, she scanned the darkened space. Okay. She was free. Now what?
The grand piano beckoned. Too risky. Steele was likely sleeping. She didn’t dare wake him. He was grumpy enough during the day. She’d hate to meet him in the witching hour.
Midnight snack? It was a good place to start. Question was, where had Ida stashed the good stuff?
Moments later, Dove reclined on the sofa, a half-eaten bag of wholegrain croutons on her lap. She licked her salty fingers, ignoring a gurgled objection from her gut. It figured, the one time she snuck out, there wasn’t a potato chip or salted caramel anywhere to be found. Seriously, the conditions here were inhumane.
Being an escaped convict wasn’t as fun as she’d imagined. There was no point in even attempting to leave the building. Steele’s team of guards would nab her in a second. She tipped her head back on the armrest and eyed the lofty ceiling. Becoming Steele’s Chosen was far from what she’d expected. For starters, he’d shown zero interest in feeding from her. It was getting harder not to take it personally. If he didn’t plan to take advantage of her super-charged faerie blood, what did he want from her? The thought he may have claimed her with some dastardly motive was concerning.
Dark shadows spanned the space. Silence wrapped her in its suffocating embrace. Her skin tightened, feeling constrained. She wiggled on the uncomfortable leather sofa. Every inch of Vivian’s mansion was plush. Built for comfort. Steele Tower, not so much.
Tink!
Her ears twitched at the high-pitched sound.
Was that—Tink, tink, tink.
Piano keys.
“Steele?” she whispered. If Steele was up, that meant she was totally busted. Goddess help her if he extended her sentence. She bolted upright. “Listen, I can explain.” To nobody, since she was alone.
With wide eyes, she scanned the room. By the piano, nothing stirred. The space surrounding the glossy black instrument was vacant.
What could have made that noise? Maybe it was a mouse. Yes. This was totally plausible. She snickered a nervous laugh. Ha, ha. Steele Tower is infested with mice. Wouldn’t that burn Marcus’s butt.The eerie piano playing was just a cute little mouse, walking across the strings. Maybe she’d catch him. Name him Nibbles. With that thought bolstering her courage, she rose from the sofa and went to investigate.
She hugged her waist, skating her fuzzy socks along the slick floors. Shadows spanned the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. As they often did when she was a child, those shadows took shape like some crazy ink-blot test. Her creative mind saw horrifying figures in every corner. Unfortunately, being a necromancer, not all the creatures who went bump in the night were imaginary. Creepy things crawled from her closet. Monsters stirred under her bed.
Stop looking at them before you freak yourself out.She locked her eyeballs on the grand piano.
The majority of the spirits she’d encountered didn’t have the strength to affect the physical world. Still, there were a few who walked close enough to the edge to have an impact on the living. Like the spirit who’d terrorized her bedroom the other night. The bedroom she’d warded, then thoughtlessly abandoned.
Dang it. She’d been so focused on freedom, she’d forgotten all about her creepy chain-rattler.
Next to the piano, she peered beneath the propped-open lid. “Here, mousey, mousey,” she whispered. Inside, there was no scurrying, scampering, or anything else to indicate the presence of a rodent.
She shivered, gaze drifting back to the inky shapes. One shadow resembled half of a torso, its thick arm extended across the wall and down the floor. Funny, if she stared hard enough, it almost seemed to move. Creeping closer. Closer…
Against her nape, a frigid breath exhaled. “Holy crap.” She stumbled, flailing her arms around her head to fight off her invisible assailant. Brimstone burned her nostrils, and she coughed, spinning in a circle, finding nothing.
When no further attacks followed, she froze, holding out karate hands. What the heck was that? “Get a grip, girl. Maybe… maybe it was just the ventilation system kicking on.” Darn it, listen to her. There she went, explaining away the supernatural.
Her chest squeezed, a heavy weight pressing down on her. She was being watched. No. More than watched. Static prickled down her glyph, and the fine hairs on her neck stood at attention. She was being haunted.
Menacing energy slithered over her skin. Thick and oily, like nothing she’d ever felt before. Before she could sort it out, red eyes peered back at her from the corner of the room. The spirit’s predatory stare burned into her. Its massive body solidified, taking the shape of a mountainous man-beast. Her heart pounded in her ears. This was no simple poltergeist.
“Bye, bye now. Time to go,” she squeaked.
“Stay,” snarled a low, growly voice.
Like hell. She spun and bolted—or tried to. Her fuzzy socks did a burnout on the slick floors. “Crap. Crap. Crap.” Her legs shot in opposite directions, and she struggled to get traction. Like Bambi on ice, she skated around the piano, gripping the edge to remain upright.
Dark laughter rumbled from the creature. Butthole. This was not funny.
Inky shadows slid beneath her, an ever-growing puddle of black. How was he doing that? For a moment, her feet found traction. She lurched forward. Yes! Her shin connected with the side table. No! Pain shot up her leg, and she cried out.
Behind her, she registered the sound of shattering glass but didn’t dare stop to investigate. Smokey tendrils curled around her waist, the shadows clinging to her, propping her up, slowing her progress. Peter Pan and his shadow had nothing on this guy.
Was it helping her? No. Not likely. It was reeling her in. “Get off! Get off!” She smacked the mystical tethers. The tendrils disintegrated as she swiped her hands through them, brushing them off like cobwebs. Recovering her balance, she sprinted for her bedroom door.
“Stay!”the monster bellowed. Wood exploded against the wall. Dove flinched, ducking her head, but still managed to remain upright. Was it slinging furniture at her? Who cared when she was almost home free? Her doorway loomed. Magical warding, don’t fail me now!
Icy fingers raked down her spine. She shifted her weight, kicking her feet out in front of her, sliding across the threshold of her room like it was home base. Safe!
Behind her, lightning struck. Thunder rumbled the floors. She flopped onto her stomach and looked back. Her shadow monster punched the invisible ward. Sparks flew, and the beast recoiled. Locked out.
“It worked.” Dove grinned. Next time she saw Celeste, she was kissing her full on the mouth.
Angry, red eyes glared back at her, retribution in their depths. Shadows spun in a cyclone, and the creature vanished.
Dove panted, shoving a lock of hair off her forehead. Legs quivering, she crawled to the door on her hands and knees, grabbed the edge, and shoved it closed. Holy moly, that was intense. More than enough adventure for one night. She eyed the sacred markings she’d drawn around her door. The warding only worked on spirits. “What in the heck was that thing?”
Marcus emerged from his bedroom,freshly showered but far from rested. First night of sleep in days and he was more tired than when he’d closed his eyes. He adjusted the hood over his head, stepped into the great room, and froze.
Splintered furniture littered the floor. Ida stood next to the sofa, sweeping shattered glass into a pile with irritated jerks of her broom. At his arrival, she glanced in his direction and huffed a sound of exasperation.
The tops of his ears heated. Ida had been with him since he was a boy. While he may be her employer, her disapproval still had an effect on him. He stepped over the broken furniture and moved to her side, picking up a torn lampshade.
“Pardon me for speaking out of turn, my lord, but it’s past time you told the girl.” She propped her fist on her sturdy hip. “What’s the point in bringing her here if you keep her locked away where she’s no good to anyone?”
“I had my reasons.”
“Stubborn reasons, I’m thinking.” She continued her angry sweeping. “I’ve gotten to know her better these last few days since you went and made me her keeper.” Her tone snapped with irritation. “You shouldn’t mistake her impulsiveness for stupidity. She’s smart, resourceful, and quick to adapt to her circumstances. Plus, she has a good heart. It’s time you showed a little faith in her. Before something terrible happens.”
It was a glowing review, seeing as Ida was suspicious of any female who entered his life, thinking they were all after him for nefarious reasons. She wasn’t wrong. Before Marcus could comment, she picked an empty bag of croutons off the floor. “Now, where do you suppose this came from?” Her eyes flashed with horror and she gasped, clutching her chest. “You don’t think…”
Both of their heads swiveled toward the guest room. Dove’s door stood open an inch. From the crack, he registered a soft squeak and a flutter of motion before it slid closed.
His Chosen was spying on them. “Did you unlock her door?”
“No, sir. Locked her in, nice and tight last night, just as you ordered.” Ida snorted. “Told you she was smart.”
Rather than hide, Dove pushed the door wide open. Which shouldn’t surprise him. The faerie never did what he expected.
Dressed in a brightly colored bathrobe that stabbed his eyeballs, she shuffled into the room, hands tucked into her sleeves. After surveying the destruction, she met his hard stare and winced. “I can explain.”
Dread clawed up his spine. “You can explain?” He scanned her from head to toe. No blood, no scratches, no broken bones. His tension eased a bit.
“Yes.” Dove squared her shoulders as though bracing for his reaction. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your penthouse is haunted.”
Ida huffed and went back to sweeping, muttering under her breath. “Don’t listen to me. What do I know? I’m just an old woman.”
“Mrs. Stoneworthy? Will you excuse us? I need to speak with my Chosen.”
“Certainly, my lord,” she said with a stiff nod, marching out of the room. “The two of you should have a nice, long chat.”
He tossed the broken lampshade into the pile of debris.
“That wasn’t my fault.” Dove pointed at the shade. “I mean, not totally. You see, I was running.”
“Running.” His stomach churned.
“Yes?”
Grateful for the hood that hid his grimace, he struggled to keep an even tone. “Start at the beginning.”
“Right.” She swallowed. “The lock on my door was loose, so I thought I’d tighten it when lo and behold, it popped open, and seeing as how I’d completed the three days as I’d promised, I decided to come out and get a snack.” She gulped oxygen. “So there I was, minding my own business, when some sort of shadow monster appeared. Not some cute little Casper type, either. I mean, this thing was powerful. You can imagine my surprise when it chased me. That’s when the lamp broke. Shortly after, I think it hurled the table at the wall. I’m not sure since I didn’t look back. I can’t say what would have happened if not for the ward on my room.”
If her robe hadn’t already given him a headache, her explanation certainly would have. “You saw it?”
She inched closer, biting her lip. “More or less. It seemed to have power over the shadows.”
“What did it look like?”
Her brow furrowed. “Angry? I didn’t get a good look at it since I was running.”
“It chased you.” By the gods, if she only knew how much danger she’d been in. But she didn’t because he hadn’t warned her. Except there wouldn’t have been a need if she hadn’t snuck out, disobeying him.
He clenched his fists, inhaling a tight breath. “Did it communicate with you?”
“The only word it uttered was stay. I got the impression it desired something from me. What, I have no idea.” She frowned, twisting the belt on her robe. “You know, when people discover their home is haunted, their first reaction is denial. Why don’t you seem surprised about any of this?”
“Your spirit and I are already acquainted,” he growled. He’d wanted time. Time to determine if she was up to the task. Nothing he’d learned about her so far had put his mind at ease. Thanks to her stunt last night, she’d forced his hand.
“Sit. We need to talk,” he snapped, and she scurried to do as he commanded while he headed to the sideboard. There, he poured himself three fingers of his best bourbon. Early hour be damned. He’d need it for the conversation he was about to have.
“If this is about the damage. I’m certain Vivian will cover it, even though it wasn’t technically my fault. And believe me. I won’t be sneaking out again. That’s for sure. Yep. Learned my lesson.”
“Forgotten.” He sat on the opposite end of the sofa from her, drawing deep from his glass. Warmth slid down his throat, loosening his tongue. Ida and Bishop were right. He needed to do this. Even if she managed to tell someone, who would his associates believe? A powerful lord of the Realm or a flighty necromancer?
He turned to find her curled into the corner of the sofa, feet tucked beneath the gaudy folds of her bathrobe. She seemed far too sheltered for what he was about to ask of her. Perhaps that’s what urged him to remind her. “Do you remember the non-disclosure you signed?”
“In blood, no less,” she snorted.
Her flippant response only deepened his unease. “Then you understand, should you attempt to reveal personal information about me, your throat will close, making it impossible to speak.”
“Get out.” She clasped her neck, eyes wide with horror. “How will I breathe?”
“Exactly.” He nodded, annoyance tightening his jaw. This was something Vivian should have explained. “It goes without saying, nothing we discuss here can leave this room.”
Her tawny brows furrowed. “Sure, Steele. I can keep a secret.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, pretending to lock them before tossing away the imaginary key.
Contrary to what she’d intended, again, he had second thoughts. This was not the way he liked to conduct business.
He firmed his jaw, closed his eyes, and willed the truth from his mouth. “I’m possessed.” Silence stretched between them. He tilted his head back, studying her from the safety of his hood.
She stared at him.
He stared back. Waiting.
Her expression didn’t change. If anything, it brightened. Did she hear him?
After a moment, she straightened, frowning. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean, that’s it? I just told you I’m possessed. The creature you met resides inside of me. I am your shadow monster.” He used her own terminology in hopes of getting through that hollow skull of hers.
“Oh.” She frowned. Then her complexion paled. “Ohhh.” She eyed his hooded countenance.
Now she was getting it.
“You mean the thing last night. That’s you.”
“Yes.”
“But…” She lowered her eyes, then raised them again. “How?”
How indeed. Memories of the explosion seeped past the mental walls he’d erected. Adrenaline raced through his veins, kick-starting his pulse. The flames. His flesh burned. Bones snapped. No. No. No. Not now. Leather creaked between his clenched fingers. He drew a deep breath. Exhaled. Drew another.
At length, he answered her question. “Because I died.
Dove’s gaze traveled over his form, darkening with confusion. Doubt furrowed her brow. “But…” she uttered, falling silent.
She didn’t believe him. She, the girl who communed with ghosts, didn’t fucking believe him.
He clenched the glass in his hand. “Immediately after the explosion, my uncle rushed me to his laboratory at Legacy. Somehow, his technicians managed to bring me back. I believe something returned with me.”
Dove pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You honestly think your soul crossed over and returned with a hitchhiker?”
What was it going to take? His heart pounded, his vision darkening. He lurched unsteadily to his feet. Standing before her, he grasped the edge of his hood. “Don’t believe me? Look at what millions of dollars of research accomplished.” With that, he ripped back the fabric.
Dove’s gasp was the only response he needed. He locked his eyes on the floor.
“Oh, Marcus,” she whispered.
Her reaction didn’t surprise him. He’d known she’d be sickened by what she saw. Where there should have been scars, the right side of his face appeared blackened and charred. His scaly flesh was fractured with red fissures that glowed when he was angry, as he was now. Beneath his clothing, the damaged extended down his body, stopping at his upper thigh. His right arm was afflicted as well. Not that she could see the extent of it all. What he’d shown her was already more than he was ready to reveal.
Her robe rustled, and she unfolded her frame from the sofa. Before she could reach him, he restored his hood, lurching to the far side of the room. There, the shadows embraced him, hiding his shame.
“The creature’s energy is always present, just beneath my skin. Any slip in my control and it rears its head, trying to surface. When I sleep, I’m most vulnerable. While I’m unconscious, it takes complete control, leaving me with no memory of my actions.”
She stared at him, mouth gaping. “That’s why you lock me in at night and banish your crew. Why you hate noise and bright lights.”
“It provokes the creature. It seems to be roused by light, noise, and high emotions. Anything stimulating.” That and it seemed to have a fondness for reckless necromancers. “Tell me. Have you seen something like this?”
“I… no. I’m sorry. I haven’t.”
Of course not. That would be too easy. He heaved a growling sigh.
She frowned and he could almost hear the gears squeaking in her head. “This is why you agreed to Vivian’s arrangement, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I brought you here to exorcise my demon.” Before it destroyed everything he’d achieved. If the vultures found out he was compromised, they’d soon circle and peck his bones clean.
“Have you talked to the physicians who helped you?”
“And have them slice me open like a lab rat?” He snorted. “They’ve done enough damage already.” Should have left me dead.
Her eyes rounded, and she paled. “All those experts on your payroll and yet you shared this with me? I’m more of a spirit whisperer than an exterminator. Exorcism really isn’t my specialty.”
From what he’d seen, she specialized in nothing. Flitting from one interest to the next. “Guess you’re about to become an expert.”
“It isn’t that simple.” She wrung her hands, her face earnest. “Exorcisms are extremely dangerous. One little screwup and the host can die. The method used in the extraction is dependent on the kind of entity involved. I haven’t a clue what it is we’re dealing with. Also, the longer it’s inside of you, the deeper its spiritual roots grow. If too much time has passed, it may be impossible to remove.”
He folded his arms. “Then I suggest you hurry. If any of my associates were to find out about this, I could lose everything. My position, my finances, my freedom. There’s an excellent chance the Council would lock me up, considering me a threat.”
“But your uncle—”
“Would not want my downfall to taint his political career.” Tiberius may have raised him as a son, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t cut ties with him so fast his ancestors would feel the rejection. Hell, Tiberius would sell his own mother if he had something to gain. He’d raised Marcus to do the same.
Frustration flushed her cheeks, her eyes growing wide with panic. “There must be other professionals who can help you. People better suited to this sort of thing.”
“None who wouldn’t draw suspicion. Just the act of my seeking one of them out would raise unwanted questions. Whereas your being here looks like I’m helping an old friend.”
She pursed her lips and thrust out her chin. “And if I refuse?”
“You don’t have a choice.” He’d made sure of it, not trusting her to see her end through. “You signed a contract. You’re to stay with me until I have recovered from my affliction.”
She blanched. “Sure, but I thought that meant until your injuries from your accident were healed.” Her voice rose, bordering on hysterical. “You tricked me. Tricked Vivian.”
“No tricks. I told you to read it.”
“But… But… But…”
Tired of her excuses, he firmed his voice, allowing a hint of darkness to seep into his tone. “I’ve kept my end of the bargain. It’s time you kept yours.”
She clenched her jaw, glaring in anger. “I suppose you give me no choice.”
No, he didn’t. “You start tonight.”