by Lyla Oweds
His voice seemed to snap her out of her daze, and her expression cleared. I’d stepped into the room, moving in behind Damen. When Mrs. Cole raised her gaze to meet Damen’s, I had a front-row view of the blank look in her eyes.
It was the look of someone who’d been beaten down in life. Someone who’d given up. I’d seen that face so many times before.
She was silent, but after a breath, she rewarded our patience. “I know who you are.” Her voice was barely a whisper—frail and thready. She folded her hands over the afghan covering her lap. “What is it you need from me?”
The tension melted from me. There was hope. Despite her appearance, she still had some fight left in her.
But what was I doing here? Why had Damen brought me?
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Damen said slowly, “but Aine Hamway is now the owner of your husband’s Black Hollows home. We’re investigating the place now. May we ask you a few questions?”
She blinked, and her attention drifted to me. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Bianca,” he answered. “She’s a medium who has been staying at the home. She’s helping me with the investigation.”
“A medium?” Her shoulders slumped. “Is it true? Are they still there? He never knew for certain.”
My skin felt clammy.
She knew.
I could see it in her face. And not only did she know the house was haunted, she knew who the spirits were. I couldn’t believe finding answers would be this easy.
“There’s a young woman in the house,” I heard myself saying, though my body felt numb. If I found out who she was, I could finally help her. It was so close. “Who is she?”
“A young woman?” Mrs. Cole tilted her head. “There’s no young woman.”
My heart sank. If it wasn’t her, then Mrs. Cole must have been referring to the two other spirits, the malevolent ones.
“Who are you talking about then?” Damen asked.
Mrs. Cole’s fingers gripped the afghan. “Edward’s first wife, and their oldest son.” Her voice sounded tired. “They both died there, long before Edward and I met. It was a suicide and heartbreak, as I’ve understood it.”
It had to be them—the two who’d trapped me in the bathroom. The son, he had grabbed me. Marked me. My heart thundered in my chest. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know who they were. They were scary.
Damen returned to his feet, grabbed my hand, and led me to a seat at the foot of the bed. Mrs. Cole followed us with her gaze.
“I take it you’ve met them then?” she asked, seemingly more alert. “Apparently, they are as pleasant as my late husband. Lovely.”
“What are you talking about—his first wife?” Damen’s hands held mine as he watched her. “The records only have you listed as his spouse.”
“I was his second marriage,” Mrs. Cole said. “In order to avoid gossip, he sealed his first home and moved to a new town. He was powerful and paranoid. He had both the marriage records and records of birth destroyed. And he was influential enough to make sure that no one spoke of what happened.”
“What happened?” Damen let go of my hands and pulled out this pad, ready to take notes again. “What was he hiding?”
Mrs. Cole’s focus returned to the curtain. Damen’s hand froze, his attention fixed on her. The air in the room felt heavy, and it was hard to breath. Mrs. Cole, it seemed, was battling some internal dilemma.
She sighed, and finally, she spoke again.
“I don’t know what I did wrong. I really did try. But my son is evil—tainted in the same darkness as his father. The only reason I’m telling you this is because I’ve been here for years, barely existing.” She watched the shadowy sway of the trees outside, barely discernible through the sheer part of her curtain. “I can’t stay hidden like this forever. He has an agenda, and even Gloria won’t be able to outwit him for long.”
“Your sister is hiding you from your son?” Damen blinked at her, confused. “What are you—”
“You’ll be targeted too, of course,” Mrs. Cole interrupted. “If he knew you were asking about that house. But,” she paused, her brown eyes meeting mine once again. “I’m tired of it. It was true that Edward saved me from a lifetime of servitude. But sometimes I wonder if the price was too high.”
I heard myself speak before I second-guessed my question. “What price?”
“My children,” she replied. “In return for my freedom, I gave him children. For his protection from the Dark Creek Pack, I gave up my dream and abandoned my family. Now my children are witches, like their father. I stayed out of their education, when I should have intervened.”
I wasn’t certain what any of this had to do with Professor Hamway’s house, but I listened in rapt attention. Damen, too, was focused.
But after that monologue, she’d stopped. Frowning, as if she was lost in memories. Finally, Damen spoke up. “What happened with Edward’s first wife and child? What were their names?”
“Rosanne was Edward’s first wife. She was a necromancer, but not very powerful. Their abilities clashed, and I assume that’s why their child struggled.” Mrs. Cole blinked. “His name was James. He was also a witch, to a certain extent.”
“You think they haunt their old home?” Damen prodded. “Why?”
“Edward thought so, too, even if he didn’t say.” Mrs. Cole began to wring her fingers. “I knew my husband. He was a dark man, full of secrets. He rarely spoke of them. But he’d say that James was disturbed. Slow. He had a violent temper and strange interests. When James was twenty-four, his new wife Eleanor abandoned him. It was after her little sister, Lily, disappeared and was presumed dead. Their divorce was the talk of the town, and James ended up killing himself. Rosanne never recovered and died of heartbreak less than a year later. After that, Edward moved, looking to start over.”
While she spoke, my heart paused at one word in particular.
Lily.
Somehow, I knew. That was the name of the mystery ghost. Even if it didn’t make sense, because outside of marriage she wasn’t tied to that house. But it was certain. The woman I’d been speaking to, that was Lily.
“Bianca?” Damen’s wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gripped my arm. He was watching me in concern. “What’s wrong?”
I had to tell him. Now that I knew, it was impossible to keep it secret. I couldn’t allow her to be forgotten again. “The girl I keep seeing, her name is Lily.”
Chapter Eight
Bianca
Expectation
Damen looked confused, and his touch barely grazed my arms. “The girl you keep talking to?”
I ignored him, refocusing on Mrs. Cole, who watched me in trepidation. “How did Lily die?”
“I don’t know. It’s never come up.” Mrs. Cole pursed her lips, considering. After a moment, she shook her head. “I’m not sure why you think she’s connected. Edward only mentioned her once.”
No.
Lily was definitely connected somehow. I wasn’t even sure that she’d tell me if I asked. She tended to mostly talk about the spirits imprisoning her. But the heart of this case lay with Lily. “We need to find out how she died. She is trapped in that house.”
“Why on Earth would she be there?” Mrs. Cole narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t know, but it’s her. She’s talked to me a few times. I get the feeling she can’t move on because of the other two spirits,” I clarified. “We need to learn more about Lily if we’re going to get anywhere.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Cole touched her chin. “How curious.”
“What do you mean?” Damen’s attention snapped to her. “What can you tell us about Lily?”
“There’s not much to tell, to my knowledge.” Mrs. Cole shrugged. “Lily lived there briefly and disappeared shortly thereafter. But those events were before my time. It was only a slip of the tongue that Edward mentioned seeing her before, and it was never relevant. Her missing persons search ended a long time ago.”
“Do you know Eleanor’s maiden name?” Damen tapped his pen, pausing in his notetaking.
“No, I don’t,” Mrs. Cole said. “You’ll not have much luck, I’m afraid. Remember, Edward destroyed all mention of his first wife and son. I don’t think there’s anyone alive who’d be willing to tell you.”
“In either case, we have a lead now thanks to this. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss? Anything at all you can recall?” He paused a moment, almost hesitant, and his mouth thinned. “I’m sure you’ve felt alone and scared. If you need to talk to someone—”
Mrs. Cole waved him off, unconcerned. “I’m content with my life, Mr. Abernathy. Karma will always catch up to everyone in the end. Do not worry yourself.”
Damen didn’t seem happy, but nodded anyway. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.” She nodded, signaling the end of the conversation. And without another word, she returned her focus to the window, clearly dismissing us.
“All right.” Damen shifted, his tone awkward. “Thank you for your time.” He got to his feet, offering me his hand. Once I was standing, he returned his focus to the other woman, even though she was no longer engaged. “One last thing. You’ve expressed concern about your son. Which—”
“I’m content,” she repeated, not looking at us. “Please leave me be. My conscience is clear.”
It was late when Damen pulled into Professor Hamway’s driveway. Another vehicle was already present, but I didn’t recognize it. My heart skipped as the possibility of the intruder being Bryce flashed through my mind.
I glanced at Damen accusingly. He better have a plan, because I was hungry and had no time to plot.
Damen smiled, the moonlight showing off his features and causing my annoyance to melt a smidge. He folded his arms over the steering wheel and tilted his head toward me.
“Don’t worry so much.” He grinned. “Bryce and Brayden aren’t coming tonight. Brayden is looking into some of the newest information from Mrs. Cole. They’ll catch up with us tomorrow.”
Why was he smiling? Was it because he already had a plan?
“So, what are we going to do?” I asked, clutching my chest in excitement. This could be fun! If Bryce fell asleep, he would be defenseless. The ways we could torture him would be limitless.
“I’m not sure,” Damen mused, a thoughtful expression coming over him. “I’ve never actually seen a Wood type in their education. It’s usually kept secret; you’ve never wanted to share. But Brayden will probably try to access your abilities first, and then take it from there. I’m more concerned about your vision from last night. If it was Lily, then we need to know—”
“It wasn’t Lily,” I interrupted. “The girl in my dream was a different person.”
Damen hummed, not perturbed. “Eleanor then? We’ll need to figure out what happened with her. Or perhaps it was Rosanne Cole?”
“I don’t know…” I sighed, wishing I had answers.
“It’s fine, we’ll figure it out.” Damen stretched before he reached for his door. “In the meantime, it’s getting late. Miles should be back. This is Julian’s vehicle. Miles must have had someone bring it since Julian stole his. Don’t be shocked if Julian complains of engine noises within the next few weeks.”
“Why?” I glanced at the vehicle and frowned. It looked perfectly normal to me, and new. Why would something be wrong with it?
“Miles’s idea of revenge is subtle,” Damen responded. “Titus will be back tonight. And Julian will be here later as well.”
Excitement strummed through me, warming my skin. “Everyone will be back?”
I wasn’t sure why this excited me, but perhaps it was due to the new knowledge from last night.
“Yes, baby girl.” Damen’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll all be here tonight.”
Why was my heart pounding? This must be our connection.
I was left pondering this as Damen got out of the car and opened my door. Even though he acted formal, there was a boyish excitement in his face that caused my skin to flush. “Come on.” He held his hand to me. “We should go inside before Titus gets here.”
“Okay…”
Damen’s hand closed around mine, and his grip didn’t ease as we walked to the house. The air was silent aside from the chirping of katydids, the atmosphere almost romantic. His other hand touched my waist as he followed me up the patio stairs and opened the front door.
I ducked under his arm, going inside the house, but before we could even close the front door, Miles was there.
He was wearing an apron and waved a wooden spoon in the air. He was also shirtless—again.
“Thank God you’re here!” He shoved the spoon in an apron pocket and took my jacket as he spoke rapidly. “What took so long? I’ve been so bored I even cooked. I made poulet farci!”
“You cooked without your shirt on?” Damen watched Miles as he removed his own jacket. “That’s so unsanitary.”
“I was multitasking,” Miles responded, unchastised. “I had work to do also.”
I eyed his bulky arms, not complaining about a shirtless Miles at all. We were safe and warm inside, so there was no risk to his health. Besides that, why did he have to take off his shirt to work? What kind of work—besides the obvious—required the removal of one’s clothing?
Was this some kind of witchcraft thing?
“So busy, yet you had time to make poulet farci,” Damen pointed out, trailing behind us as Miles grabbed my hand and moved toward the kitchen.
“What’s that?” I asked, allowing myself to be led. “What did you make?”
“Apples and chicken,” Miles responded, showing me to a chair at the breakfast bar and sliding a cup in my direction. “Would you like tea or coffee? Dinner will be ready soon. I hope you’re hungry.”
I was about to reply when Damen, who was on his phone, leaned against the wall. “How could she be hungry? We ate four hours ago. I’m not hungry at all.”
I shot him a look of derision, but he didn’t notice.
“It doesn’t matter. Ignore him.” Miles shook his head, tearing his own annoyed eyes from Damen. “Damen doesn’t eat like a normal person. And I had to distract myself somehow. I’ve also baked a pie!”
“Why did you need a distraction?” I asked, eyeing the stove from across the room. Was it because he’d ignored the rule and had been inside the house alone? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing to worry about.” Miles poured my coffee. “I only needed something to keep me busy. It was hard, being all alone—”
“Because you’re scared of ghosts?” I sipped my drink. It was made perfectly. Miles understood me so well, just like I was beginning to understand him. He was afraid of spirits, poor guy. Even though he’d defied orders, it had been brave of him to wait inside.
Miles froze at my question, and Damen looked up from his phone.
“W-what makes you think I’m scared of g-ghosts?” Miles paled, leaning over the counter as he covered his face. “I was doing so well.”
Damen rolled his eyes, and I tried to keep my face impassive. Miles was so sensitive. It would be mean to hurt his feelings. Besides, he had done a good job trying to hide his fear.
“Miles, any time a ghost is near, you get antsy,” I said. “And when Mr. Weaver popped up, you sprayed holy water at him.”
“He sprayed holy water at Caleb?” Damen perked up, lowering his phone. “How did I not hear about this? You went straight for the water, did you?”
Miles lowered his hands, his cheeks flushing. “That’s a completely normal reaction! Most people react the same when confronted with such horror!”
“A lot of people, maybe.” Damen grinned. “But most people aren’t quite like you, Miles.”
“Shut up, Damen.” Miles’s voice was high. “It’s not that bad. Besides, no one is perfect. Take you; what are you doing with that? Pay attention before you do something stupid. Titus won’t be happy about getting another. They’re getting harder to find.”
<
br /> “Okay.” Damen’s grin fell, and he returned his attention to his phone. “I need to send a message first.”
I glanced between them, watching the banter with wide eyes. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it was entertaining.
Miles muttered under his breath, returning to the stove. Meanwhile, Damen wrote out his text, uninterested in the rest of the room.
I didn’t get it at first—the meaning behind Miles’s words. But there was something wrong with this picture. Then realization dawned.
I knew, logically, that Damen had a phone. We’d texted before. So, it shouldn’t have been strange. However, I had never seen Damen use this red-cased monstrosity of a cell phone before.
It was the definition of old-school. In fact, I recall Finn owning one of these devices back in middle school. I couldn’t place what it was, but I knew it was a brand that had been tested to withstand destruction and last throughout the ages.
He had money, apparently. So why would Damen need a phone that was impossible to destroy? Was he, perhaps, a murderer of technology?
I hoped not—he still had my phone in his pocket. “Hey—”
“I’m here for you,” Kasai interrupted, materializing on the counter next to my folded arms. But he was addressing Miles, not me. “I’ve been called to keep away the bad ghosties. I’m sorry I didn’t come before. Master forgot.”
“Se taire.” Miles jumped at the bird’s sudden appearance. “Kasai, how long have you been out here? Why did you—”
“I’m going outside.” Damen pushed from the wall, holding up his phone. “I’ve a few things to go over with Dr. Stephens.” He tossed the device in the air and caught it in a quick movement. “Won’t be but a moment.”
Miles hissed, eyes following the device.
Now, I was convinced that Damen and technology was not a good mix. I wanted my phone back before he broke it, if he hadn’t already. Titus had gotten that special for me. “Hey—”
But Damen had already rushed from the room, leaving us looking after him in silence.
A silence that was then interrupted by Kasai’s smooth voice. “All right, children. We’ve got some time to make up for, and I’ve been silenced for far too long. Who wants to know what Master wanted to name me?”
