Chapter 17
GREY
Lyra’s intoxicating scent lingered in the study, and the taste of coffee and chocolate remained on my tongue. I’d been so sure she’d set me up, but she surprised me by coming back and then again when she shoved her tongue down my throat.
I paced the room back and forth, unable to stand still. I was horny with no hope of relief. I dropped my head back, shutting my eyes, and willed my aching erection to chill the fuck out.
I needed to get rid of the buzzing energy. It was time to have a little fun of my own.
The humans needed a fucking reminder of their mortality and how easily their lives could end.
I picked the oldest, most expensive looking book on the shelf.
The musty smell of mold told me I’d picked the right one.
The brittle, yellowing pages looked like they would make perfect kindling to send this place up in flames.
I dangled the book from its broken spine, holding the lighter under the pages.
Flames quickly consumed the paper, nipping at my fingertips.
I dropped the book on the throw rug in the middle of the room. It must’ve been cheap because it ignited easily. The fire greedily ate away the entire thing. Stifling black smoke filled the room and filtered down the hall toward the unsuspecting partygoers.
I admired my handiwork. The fire crackled as it spread up the legs of the desk, destroying any evidence that I’d been in the study and making it impossible to tell what was taken.
I followed the smoke down the hallway and escaped out the front door amid all the confusion.
The panicky screams were a sweet, sweet melody to my ears as I watched the townsfolk run from the burning building. Wailing sirens blared in the distance. The horn of the fire engine honked three times as it turned down the street.
The soon-to-be mayor was already wasting taxpayer dollars because the fire had already been contained. Devin had acted quickly, confining the majority of the damage to the study and adjoining rooms.
My phone dinged in my pocket.
Lyra: You set the house on fire????
Me: I had to cover up that we stole the spellbook.
Dots popped up and quickly disappeared. It happened again and again, but she never sent a response, and after a while, they disappeared altogether. Because she knew I was right.
The fridge light drove away the darkness blanketing the kitchen.
A six-pack of beer was the only thing inside.
I popped off the cap, and it clinked to the floor, bouncing under one of the barstools.
My grip tightened around the bottle as I downed half of it in a single gulp.
I slammed it down on the counter as I took a seat and stared at the familiar book.
I finished off my beer, trying to delay the inevitable—opening the damn thing.
This book was a look into Veda’s deranged mind. I was going to need something stronger, like a double shot of whiskey. But like my fridge, the pantry and cabinets were also barren.
The book fell open to a page Veda must have read often. Her handwriting was neat and precise. Clinical.
My stomach churned as the memories resurfaced. Bile burned my throat. Veda had used me, and I was too stupid to realize it until it was too late. Until this godforsaken shackle was already around my neck.
I shot to my feet, scraping the barstool across the tile and sending it tumbling to the floor. I stalked to the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face, then lifted my head and stared at my reflection.
I was standing in a crowd. Veda stood on a wooden platform. A noose hung around her neck. Cheers and hollers rang out from neighbors and friends that Veda had once helped.
People feared what they could not understand, and hysteria spread like wildfire.
“Get out of my fucking head!” I shouted. My hands gripped the edge of the ceramic sink.
Veda’s storm filled eyes met mine, and she said something I couldn’t make out.
Her lips moved, but they were blurred, making it impossible to read them.
A loud thud rattled, and elated yells came from the crowd.
Veda’s lifeless body swayed back and forth.
Her neck had snapped, and the death was swift and painless.
A mercy she didn’t deserve. Three other girls hung beside her, but two of them weren’t as lucky.
They slowly died of strangulation. Prayers muttered from their lips as they took their last breaths.
I smashed my fist into the mirror, embedding shards of glass in my fingers and knuckles. I welcomed the pain and let it ground me.
My phone vibrated, and I caught Lyra’s name out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah,” I said, answering the call. Itching for a fight.
“I need your help. With a spirit problem,” she whispered the last part.
“Can it wait till morning?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out an audible sigh.
“No, it can’t.” I could hear the hesitation in her words. She was only calling because she had no other option.
“All right,” I said, walking back to the kitchen. A tremor shook my hand as I shut the book. I gave her my address and hung up, then finished the dregs of my lukewarm beer.
The quiet settled around me as I waited, thick and heavy. I chucked the empty bottle against the wall, watching as it exploded all over the kitchen floor.