Chapter 21 #2
“There’s just no way Dr. Sutherland feels that way about me,” I say firmly.
“The man barely even tolerates me. And that’s on a good day.
When I nail every one of his portal drills, summon and bind without slipping up, and don’t breathe too close to his precious books.
So whatever you two clowns think you know, guess again.
Um… but not out loud. You’re getting me all riled up over nothing.
Nothing, I say!” I smile and blow out a breath.
“Phew! This girl needs a drink. Who’s with me? ”
I take off in the direction of the nearest caterer, not bothering to see if the demon brutes are following. I snatch up the first glass of red wine I see, down it in one go, then grab another.
The demons are right at my side. Which is, admittedly, comforting.
I only wish Dr. Sutherland were here, too.
“This party reeks of corruption,” Oliver says, sipping on a martini as he stealthily tracks the guests. “You know all these pricks have skeletons in the closet.”
“Cemeteries’ worth,” says Warren. “And they’ve all amassed enough dirt on one another to fill the pits of Hell.”
“Can’t wait to rub their shit-eating noses in it.” Oliver clinks his glass to Warren’s. “Here’s to a night of blood of mayhem, brother.”
He turns to clink my glass, and when I tip my drink back, I spot a woman in a long white dress lingering on one of the balconies. Our eyes lock, and I realize it’s not a woman at all.
It’s a ghost.
“Calista,” I breathe. I haven’t seen her in weeks. The moment I say her name, I can feel her—her emotions. Distress. Fear. Anger. They flood through me so quickly, my knees nearly buckle.
If anyone else can sense her, they don’t show it. Her eyes stay fixed on mine, blazing with some new urgency I can’t decipher.
And then, all at once, she bursts into flames, and vanishes.
I gasp.
“Lizzy?” Warren puts a steadying hand on my elbow. “Are you—”
“Bathroom. Be right back.” I shove my wine glass at him and beeline down an empty-looking hallway lined with potted plants, grateful to find an out-of-the way bathroom. I lock the door, splash some cold water on my face, and stare at myself in the mirror.
“Get your shit together, cupcake,” I whisper. “Now’s not the time to dissociate.”
My reflection wavers, and then she’s right here with me, staring straight back at me.
Her eyes, so like mine we could be sisters, are pleading, but I don’t know what she’s trying to tell me, what I can do to help her.
I watch, horrified and mute, as her dress burns to ash and her flesh blisters and blackens.
Soon, there’s nothing staring back at me but those haunted eyes.
“What are you trying to tell me?” I whisper, tracing my fingertip down the glass.
Calista vanishes again, leaving the scent of fire in her wake.
I dash out into the hallway, scanning in both directions, but no luck. I’m about to head up to check the balcony when I’m hit with a wave of new energy.
Dark. Deceitful. Vengeful.
“Fancy meeting you here,” comes the oily voice.
My body goes ice cold as Brendan steps out from behind a potted ficus. He’s wearing a tux that’s slightly too big and a smile that does nothing to hide his disdain, a glass of champagne dangling from his fingertips.
What is he doing here? I haven’t seen him since that one run-in on my mother’s porch. I assumed he’d slithered on back to California.
With a malicious smile, he shoves the champagne at me.
“Sorry,” I snap. “Getting roofied isn’t on my bucket list.”
Smile unwavering, he says, “Take the drink, Dizz. Don’t make a scene.”
“Do you have an actual reason to be here, Brendan, or do I need to file a restraining order?”
Like, seriously. If it’s just the credit card shit, why hasn’t he called the cops? He’s a fucking lawyer. It’s not like he doesn’t know what strings to pull.
And how the Hell does he know Killroy?
Brendan laughs, hollow and cold. “My actual reason, since you asked so nicely, is to bring you home.”
“I am home,” I say, surprised at the insistence in my voice.
Surprised that I actually mean it.
I don’t know what my future holds. What’s going to happen with the portal, with Dr. Sutherland and my lessons, with my sisters, with any of it. But for the first time in my life, I feel like I actually matter. Like I’m doing something important.
And suddenly, after twenty-odd years of running away from it, Graves Hollow is the only place I want to be.
“Look,” Brendan says, losing his barely-there patience.
“You asked me to leave you alone, and I have. I gave you space. I gave you time. Why? Because I’m a good fucking guy, Lizzy.
But enough is enough. I’ve been stuck in shit-ass Graves Hollow for weeks—at my own expense, mind you—and you still haven’t reached out. ”
“Sounds a little desperate, if you ask me.”
“It’s called emotional maturity. I want us to figure this out together.”
“Figure what out?”
He smirks and gives me this look, like, aww, it’s so cute when I have to explain things to you! “Come on, Dizz. Let’s not pretend you have the first clue about selling a house and managing an inheritance. Finances are complicated.”
“I don’t know, Brendan. In my experience, when a man tells a woman something is complicated, what he’s really saying is he doesn’t want that woman to call him out on his bullshit.”
His face reddens, his energy flooding once more with that barely-restrained need to hurt me. “Quick fucking around. It’s time you come to your senses and—”
I cut him off with a harsh laugh. “The fact that I ever let you into my bed is proof that coming to my senses is not my zone of genius. Fortunately, I’ve got other skills.
And—brace yourself, Brendan, this might be too complicated for you to understand—none of them require your input.
So, thanks for the offer, but I’m gonna pass. ”
“You will not walk away from me again, you stuck-up bitch.” He reaches out to grab me, but just before he makes contact, a figure sweeps into the hallway, dashing and elegant, his hair impeccable, his glasses polished to perfection.
“There you are, darling,” Dr. Sutherland says smoothly. “I’ve been looking everywhere.” He meets my eyes, and my stomach swoops, and suddenly it’s as if we’re the only two people in the entire world.
Oliver’s words whisper through my mind.
You do realize he’s in love with you, right?
Dr. Sutherland leans in close, lips brushing my cheek. Everything below the waist instantly bursts into flames.
“Play along,” he whispers. Then, pulling back, “I inquired about the piece you asked after. Sadly, it’s already been purchased.”
“I… right.” I blink, and breathe, and plaster on a smile. “Bummer! Guess we’ll figure something else out for the house in France.”
A soft chuckle. “That we will.”
I’m dimly aware of Brendan still standing around, gaping and fuming, but he’s just background noise at this point.
Pretty sure he always was.
“Shall we?” Dr. Sutherland holds out his arm, his eyes glimmering with something fierce and possessive.
And very hot.
I narrow my gaze, like, are you sure?
There’s a quick wink, a firm nod of assent. Ever so carefully, ever so gratefully, I hook my hand through the crook of his elbow. He gives a tiny, nearly imperceptible shiver, then leads me away.
I expect him to release me once we’re back in the main area, but he doesn’t. Just watches me intently, his gaze turning serious, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.
“Um… you good?” I ask.
“Yes, fine. Fine. I just thought… That is, I was hoping…” He trails off, his momentary confidence receding, my favorite Very Socially Awkward Demon taking charge once more. “I realize your taste in dance partners runs a bit more on the elderly side, but… Would you like to dance?”
“With you?”
“That is the idea, yes.”
“You do realize dancing requires touching, right?” I laugh, repeating his words from the Kettles encounter. “Actual touching?”
“I do.”
“Not just standing kind of near each other and quite-unquote ‘perceiving energetic signatures?’”
“Miss Bonnivarde, at this rate, the band is going to retire before I’ve gotten my answer.”
“What was the question, again?” I tease, feeling a little dizzy at the sight of him, the new determination in his eyes, blazing in spite of the awkwardness.
When he responds, it doesn’t come out like a question at all. It comes out like a command.
“Dance with me.”
“Well, since you put that way.” I smile and shift my grip from his elbow to his hand, giving him a moment to adjust to the sensation. He takes a deep breath, laces our fingers together, and squeezes. Firm. Decisive.
And suddenly, my teensy, tiny, infinitesimal, minuscule, pea-sized, microscopic crush no longer exists.
Because I’m falling for him for real.