Page 7 of Monsters' Manor

His ruby eyes flare with molten flame as he brings a hand up to rest over mine, and I realize.

I just used magick.

My magick.

His shit-eating grin spreads even wider as he realizes it, too. I draw my hand away, quick and jerky like I’ve been burned, and he snatches the card from where I’d been holding it against his bare skin.

He glances at it and chuckles. “The Devil? I’m flattered, Rosie.”

Mira lets out a startled laugh. “Damn, Rose. Great precision. I didn’t know you were gifted in telekinesis.”

“I’m not,” I mutter, already backing out of the booth.

“This card says otherwise, Rosie,” Renwick taunts.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. Not when my skin is still buzzing and my head is swimming with warmth and static. Magick. Curling its way through my veins and reminding me just what I’ve been denying all these years.

Mira frowns. “Is everything alright? I’m sorry if I—”

“Fine,” I interrupt. “Everything is fine. I just have to… I need to get to work.”

I glance at Renwick, and all the teasing light in his eyes is gone. He’s looking at me with something almost like… concern.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like his concern, and I really don’t like the fact that he’ll absolutely be bringing this information back to Odelia. Odelia, who knows I’ve buried my power completely, refused to acknowledge it, told her straight to her face that under no circumstances do I plan to use it while I’m here.

Goddess damn it anyway.

When I try to leave the booth, Renwick steps into my path.

“Rosemary,” he says cautiously.

I didn’t know those ruby eyes of his could be so kind. They’ve always been dancing with mischief while he’s teasing and taunting me, or lit with pride and arrogance while he’s showing off his ridiculously sculpted physique. But right now they’re soft. Worried. Maybe even a little guilty.

“I’ve got to go,” I say again, and after a couple of heartbeats he moves, leaving the path open for me to take the coward’s way out and make my exit.

3

“Good evening, Rosemary.”

It’s hours later, almost midnight, when Silas's night-wind voice reaches me from just outside the ticket booth. I’m closing tonight, and the last of the guests have already made their way inside the Acres.

“Hey,” I say, looking up from the drawer of cash I’m counting.

“Can I come in?”

I nod, and a moment later all those shadows are hovering beside me.

It’s not as disconcerting as the first few times I interacted with him, but it’s still startling to see the way he can go from one place to the next in the blink of an eye.

Once he’s inside the booth, he settles into the chair in the corner. His shadows configure themselves into something resembling the hazy posture of a man sitting, leaned back with his legs crossed in front of him, and the corners of my mouth quirk up in an unlikely smile.

“Do you need to rest?” I ask, nodding to where he’s sitting. “Does it get tiring, uh, hovering, the way you do?”

A second too late, I realize it might be a rude question to ask. I don’t really know anything about shades, much less what topics they might find inappropriate or taboo.

That worry evaporates when Silas chuckles.

---