Page 29 of Wolfsbane Hall
He loosed a half-grunt, half-chuckle—a grunkle?Heavens, Celine, never think something so foolish again.“Do you truly think the Specter would leave something lying around in his rooms for anyone to find?”
No, she didn’t. But Celestine knew the Specter better than anyone. Something might help.
“Dean Ashbrook”—she waved at the door—“show me your magic.”
She asked because she wanted to trick him into showing her the truth.
“I don’t have magic. Not without the elixir.”
Liar.All Ashbrooks were such liars.
Celestine had lived in Wolfsbane long enough to notice when things were off, and there was always something off with those men. If the Specter was related to Dean, then didn’t it stand to reason that Dean would have magic, too? Even without the elixir. And if he did, did it mean he was the Specter…or the Phantom?
“I know you have magic,” she said. “So show it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
“And why would I ever do anything for you?”
Celestine shook her head. He wouldn’t, because he hated her. It was the one true thing standing between them.
She huffed. This was a useless task. Even if Celestine managed to get the door off its hinges, the Specter would put up barrier, after barrier, after barrier. Plus, there was only so much of Dean she could stand. So she pivoted on her toes and walked off.
“Wait.”
Celestine paused her footfalls and twirled on her heel, her arms crossed.
“I’ll help,” he said, touching the door. “But only because I am fascinated.”
By what?
As she stepped back up to him, the door clicked and swung open, the creak of the aged wood rattling through her ears.
Celestine’s jaw slackened, and she physically recoiled from Dean and the Specter’s quarters. The temperature in the hall dropped, and the sound of rain pounded against the house’s windowpanes, banging like her heart inside her chest.
“You are magic.” It came out as a breath.
She wrapped her arms around her center as if she could protect herself, because this meant one of three things. One, he was the Specter; two, he was the Phantom; or three, all theAshbrooks possessed magic. And Celestine didn’t know which scenario was scarier. It made sense for Dean to be the Phantom because he’d always hated her, but if he were the Specter…
She wouldn’t know what to do.
A teardrop of sweat rolled down her temple. If Dean was the Specter, then it meant nothing between her and him was real. Nothing. And that was the worst feeling imaginable.
“But the elixir.” She finally got her tongue to form more words.
“I don’t need it,” he admitted. “I never have.”
Celestine gulped and wrapped her arms tighter. “Why would you simply show me that?”Why now?
“Because I can.”
Thunder boomed outside her, scoring the unease that cut through her bones. Processing all the new information seemed impossible. Poison, magic, and devious men—men she thought were her friends.
But people didn’t treat their friends this way.
Celestine chose not to process any of it, because if she did, she would totally unravel. Instead, she locked it away for future inspection.
