Page 26 of When Bones Whisper
“Even if that is true,” she spluttered, her fingers knotting into the fabric of her dress. “I didn’t wantyouto see them. You could have stopped drinking from me, but you didn’t. You stayed, you watched!”
“I took no pleasure from it,” he assured, as if that helped.
“You drained me until I fell unconscious. You promised to stop.”
“I did stop.”
“I almost died.”
He maneuvered himself onto the black piano stool. “Have you come in search of an apology? If so, I am afraid I must disappoint.”
“No. I can’t imagine you being capable of such humility. However, considering I am the key to breaking your curse, I thought you’d maybe check on me to make sure I was alive.”
A wolfish grin shadowed his lips when he stood. “My, my. How quickly you have become outspoken in your short time here.”
She snorted. “I don’t see why I should continue the charade of civility when you refuse to be anything but discourteous.”
“I didn’t think you were capable of being anythingotherthan civil.”
Sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth, she chewed on the admonishment she wanted to throw his way. She still didn’t know how much he had seen in her head, so reined in her anger and steadied her voice. “I want to know if you got what you needed.”
He didn’t answer.
“Do you believe me?” she intoned.
“I saw your conversation with your ancestor in the graveyard.”
She swallowed thickly. “Then you know I can break your curse.”
He paused, tilting his head and giving nothing away in his still expression. Everything about him was unmoving, still, except for his smoky, intense stare, which brimmed with untapped power, revealing the monster beneath.
“Yes. Your ancestor, the one you spoke with, her name was Elizabeth.”
“You recognized her even as a spirit?”
“Mhmm,” he said. “It was interesting, to see a ghost through your eyes. Sometimes, I wondered if they were real.”
“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
He chuckled darkly. “Spoken like a priest.”
“So now you know the witches lied to you,” she said, ignoring his quip.
His eyes and brows flickered on the intonation of her last word, his lips carving into his cheeks. “Indeed, I do.”
She took one step closer, if only so she could examine the micro-movements of his face better.
“Good,” she bluffed. “So, I will perform the ritual to break your curse. However, I need my great-grandmother’s grimoires to do that. I am not a practiced witch.”
The corner of his lip creased, and the flare of his nostrils sent a shudder through her body. “You cannot go back home.”
She let out a long exhale. He didn’t know the part where she had to die to complete it. It was a minor victory, but one nonetheless.
“I am not foolish,” she blurted. “I know the witches will come for me if I try, but I want my grimoires from the attic, to know if my staff are okay, and most of all, my cat, Duke.”
“Your staff are fine. Alexander heard them when he showed up to retrieve your belongings. Fear not. He spun a lie about your leaving, saying you had gone to visit your great aunt.”
She scoffed. “And they believed him? That I left with no belongings in the middle of the night.”
