Chapter 5 #2
The brunet groaned and resumed walking. “You’re fucking insane. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“There totally is. Haven’t you heard that cold spots are an indication of ghosts?” the blond pressed, taking a couple of quick steps to catch up with his friend.
“You’re the reason there are all those stupid ghost-hunting shows on TV. I hate you,” the brunet continued before they disappeared down another hallway.
“Please tell me you’re here to prove to them that ghosts are real by turning them into ghosts.”
Winter’s head snapped around to see a ghost standing in an open doorway, watching him very closely. He hadn’t even noticed her standing there, but then, he’d gotten very good at tuning the ghosts out over the years.
He didn’t say anything as he continued toward a long hallway off the foyer, but the ghost continued.
“You’re Winter Varik, aren’t you?”
Winter’s gaze jerked up to stare at the ghost, really taking in her appearance. She looked like she’d died young, twenty-two or twenty-three. It was impossible to tell if she’d died as a human or a vampire. But judging by her jeans and 2017 Fun Run T-shirt, she’d died not that long ago.
“I am,” he said softly.
The ghost laughed and spun on the toes of her left foot while clapping. “That totally explains it!” She sucked in a breath she didn’t need and smiled broadly at him. “That’s why you’ve got such a reputation for being scary and invisible. You can sneak around with all the ghosts.”
“You’ve heard of me?”
She nodded and took another step closer. “Damon complained about the Variks all the time, but your name came up the most. He’s scared shitless of you.”
Winter grinned at his new friend. That news was always nice to hear. He just didn’t know how he’d turn it to his advantage.
“Did you work for Damon?”
The ghost sniffed and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Hardly. Unwilling blood donor. One of his fucks picked me up while I was running an errand to the grocery one night. Kept me locked up here for about a month before Damon finally managed to kill me.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Cara,” she supplied. She gave one small shrug of her slumped shoulders. “Thanks. Way it goes, I guess. Definitely not how I thought I was gonna die.”
“Have you been in the house long?”
Cara nodded. “I think so. Time…time feels weird now.”
It wasn’t the first time Winter had heard that complaint from a ghost. They didn’t register the passage of time the same way the living did.
It was how they could exist for centuries in the same region and not go completely insane from the boredom.
Decades could pass in the blink of an eye for them.
But if Cara had been in Damon’s house for at least a few months, she might know about the witch.
“Do you know if Damon is keeping anyone prisoner within the house right now? Someone who is not a blood donor.”
A broad smile blossomed on Cara’s face, and he had to admit, it was the most bloodthirsty expression he’d ever seen on a former human. “Second floor. Down the hall to the left from the main staircase. You’ll find at least two guards outside the door at all times.”
Winter’s heart skipped a beat at this wonderful news.
This was exactly what he needed to know, and it saved him from having to search every inch of this place.
Too often prisoners were kept either in a basement or even another building on the grounds.
Winter didn’t have time to check out every inch of Damon’s place, and he certainly didn’t want to come back another night.
“Thanks, Cara!” He turned on his heel and started to jog toward the stairs, but Cara’s shout stopped him.
“Wait! Are you going to kill Damon?”
Winter paused with one foot on the bottom stair as he turned to look at her. “Not tonight, but very soon. I promise.”
“Good,” she said with a sigh. “And if you could make it really painful, I know a lot of us around here would appreciate it.”
Winter grinned. “I’ll do what I can.”
Cara laughed and started to do a twirling dance across the main hallway.
She held up the middle finger on both hands, flipping off the front door guards as she passed them by.
He had a feeling she was going to gleefully flip off all the vampires she passed in the house as she celebrated Damon’s coming demise.
Resuming his trek up the stairs, Winter found the door she’d indicated, with two vampires standing guard outside of the room.
He leaned against the wall opposite them, scratching his jaw.
How the fuck was he supposed to get past these bastards?
Well, he could kill them, but it would be damn hard to quickly hide the bodies and any blood splatter that would inevitably happen.
And if he didn’t work fast enough, they could raise the alarm.
He might be able to escape, but Damon would definitely put extra protection on his precious prisoner.
No, he needed another distraction. Something that would draw the guards away from their posts.
Pushing off the wall, Winter headed along the hallway in the opposite direction.
Most of the doors were open, revealing empty bedrooms that were extravagantly decorated.
He doubted they were ever used. Just opulence for the sake of opulence.
Marcus’s house might be a tad over the top, but at least his rooms were regularly used by family.
There was no way Damon was allowing his security staff to sleep in here.
He probably had a plain dormitory-style room dedicated for his bodyguards. A dungeon for his poor blood donors.
It was a shame he couldn’t set free anyone else trapped on the premises, but there wasn’t time, and he had to keep his focus on the witch. She was the key to everything. Taking care of her meant the Variks were one step closer to getting rid of Damon.
At the end of the hall, he stepped into a large empty bedroom overflowing with lace and flowers.
The room looked as if it would belong to someone’s eccentric great-aunt whose mind was trapped about a hundred years in the past. Old wooden dolls with wide, unblinking stares sat in doll-sized chairs.
Their hair was arranged in fat sausage curls.
The room was straight out of a horror movie, and Winter couldn’t think of a better place to start a fire.
Just a little fire.
It had worked outside and if he kept it small, he’d be able to draw the guards away from their door to the room.
Winter grabbed the bottle of starter fluid from his pocket and began searching around the room for a perfect spot. It wouldn’t make sense for a fire to spontaneously break out in the middle of the bed or in the cluster of creepy dolls. Fuck, he hated those damn dolls and their eyes.
But some faulty wiring could definitely spark a fire.
He checked along the wall, searching for something plugged in.
Settling on an outlet with a bedside lamp, he parted the veil enough to spray the last of the fluid around the plug and up the wall as if the fire had followed along the wiring.
He had no clue if an electrical fire would act like that, but it would at least look convincing.
The point was to buy himself a couple of minutes to get to the witch and take care of her.
He couldn’t have the guards looking for him while he was dealing with the witch.
Winter tucked the empty bottle away in his pocket; then he struck a match and held the tiny flame to the fluid nearest the outlet. It took only a second for the liquid to catch and rush up the wall, eating into the floral wallpaper with a loud crackle.
Winter put out the match and shoved it into his pocket, leaving behind no evidence as he closed the veil.
The accelerant had no smell, and the acrid scent of smoke was already overpowering any odor created by the match.
With a smile, he left the room and started down the hall.
He crossed past the staircase and found the same two vampires outside the room as the smoke alarm closest to the burning bedroom shrieked.
As expected, both vampires jumped at the noise and turned toward the room where smoke was starting to trickle into the hall. Cursing, they ran to the burning bedroom, leaving the witch’s prison completely unattended.
It was so nice when a plan came together smoothly.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his lock picks.
The lock on the door looked like a standard model, one he’d had plenty of practice picking.
He’d need to exit the world of the dead, but this would take less than thirty seconds.
The guards would be occupied for at least that long with the fire.
Parting the veil, Winter stepped into the world of the living and grabbed the doorknob.
It was unlocked. Of course, the hall and door had been guarded by two vampires, but it seemed strange all the same.
He put away his lock picks and palmed his knife in his right hand.
Winter slipped inside, silently closing the door again behind him.
As he whipped around, preparing to dip into the dead world so he could sneak up on his prey, all thought stopped when his eyes fell on a young man stretched out on a thin mattress.
Bright red hair sprung from the top of his head, and his skin was a flawless white, as if he’d been spun from pure moonlight.
He was wearing a pair of jeans and a rumpled black T-shirt that had some kind of company logo on the upper left side.
There was a pair of worn sneakers on the floor in front of the bed as if he’d kicked them off before getting comfortable.
His hands were bound together and tied to the metal bed frame with rope.
Winter watched as the fear evaporated from his soft olive-green eyes and his full lips tilted into the most tantalizing smirk.
A smirk Winter suddenly wanted to lick from his beautiful mouth.
“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” the man mocked.
“What?” Winter squawked.