Page 16 of Cordelia Manor
I passed Evan on my way to The Pink Palace, knowing he wouldn’t accept a ride from me at this point. If that was where he felt most comfortable in this town, I’d make sure he didn’t have to pay.
“Dammit, Christie,” I said, knowing damned well she could still hear me even though I’d driven away.
“Sorry,” I heard in my head, and knew she really was. Christie came from a long line of powerful Yoruba priestesses. Her father was Dinka, though, giving her intense height and elegant features.
Along with inheriting natural beauty, her mother’s gifts gave her considerable power, over men especially. If it didn’t piss her off, I wouldn’t hesitate to call her an incubus. Although she wasn’t a demon, she did deserve it for playing games with Evan after all he’d been through since arriving.
I couldn’t be too upset at her, though. Christie didn’t know about everything that had happened. Not even Al knew the full scope of events from this morning, since I hadn’t had time to fill her in yet. The leader of a coven should never be in the dark about paranormal activities happening in their territory. I might be the hired hand to oversee Cordelia Manor, but Al was ultimately in charge of managing the area’s magical and paranormal activities.
Evan eyed me when he walked into the hotel lobby. He turned to one of the young owners of The Pink Palace, and asked, “Are you a witch too?”
She looked at him funny, then over at me, before laughing. “I’ve been accused of that before, but not usually until you get to know me. Mr. Beacroft has already paid, and you’ll be in room thirteen. “I know it’s auspicious, but unfortunately, it’s the only room left. You’re on the second floor.”
Evan nodded. “As long as it’s not haunted and there are no damned witches around here, it’ll be fine,” he said, taking the keys before eyeing me again, then walked out and up the staircase to the balcony.
I hurried out of the lobby and hollered, “I’ll come by with your things as soon–” I heard his door slam before I could get the words out.
I sighed, shook my head, and climbed back into the Lexus. I needed to talk to Al and figure out what came next. Then I needed to figure out what to do with Evan Garland. At least he would be safe here at The Pink Palace, that was a start.
Christie would need to apologize for intruding on his mind without permission, but Al would hash that out with her. Right now, we needed to formulate a plan for Cordelia Manor.
13
Evan
Ifell face-first ontothe plush pink bedspread and let myself have a nice long cry. Nothing had gone right since I’d arrived. I should’ve refused to let Cary Beacroft pay for the room, but to be honest, I only had enough money to stay here two or three days at best. I wanted to go home, but I didn’t even have enough to buy a one-way train ticket.
Witches, ghosts, what sort of spooky bullshit had I fallen into? I reached up and rubbed my head where the knot still throbbed a bit from the fucking ghost having clobbered me yesterday.
I didn’t want to be here any longer. The manor, this town, the whole fucking state could all go to hell… or maybe I was already there. I didn’t want the curse of owning that damned manor. I knew I was feeling sorry for myself, but when would something in my life finally go right?
Before long, I fell asleep, which I probably needed more than anything else.
I was standing on the balcony of the manor again. I immediately felt afraid, searching for the entity who’d attackedme. But, instead of seeing him, I saw the little boy from my dream earlier.
He was grown, or mostly. If I had to guess, he was probably around seventeen. The woman, who I recognized as his nanny, was also there, sitting on one of the uncomfortable-looking fancy chairs along the balcony.
She was visibly pregnant and, from the look of things, not having a good time of it. The teenager went over to her, asking if she was okay.
The woman smiled and patted his hand. “I’m fine, Andre. Now run along and do your studies. I’ll be by later to check your work.”
As soon as the boy disappeared through the doorway, another woman emerged. “Inez, sweetheart, the doctor told you to stay off your feet.”
“Tell that to the sulking teenager in there,” she said, chuckling.
The woman sat beside her and, a few moments later, asked, “Have you heard from him?”
Inez shook her head. “No, not since… well, since this,” she said, gesturing toward her large stomach.
“The bastard should be put in prison.”
Inez laughed mirthlessly. “And who would believe an unwed pregnant woman over someone as influential as Mr. Leon Cordelia?”
The woman sighed and shook her head. “Inez, you’ve got to think about what you’re going to do with that baby. You can’t possibly raise him or her on your own, and we both know that one…” she said, pointing back toward the manor with her thumb, “…will never take responsibility.”
“I’m not giving up my baby, Elisa. What happened is not the baby’s fault. That… that man is the one at fault, no one else.”
The woman named Elisa, who’d also been in my earlier dream, put her hand over Inez’s and nodded. “I’ll help as much as I can. Maybe you can come live in the cottage with Jim and me.”
