by Lyla Oweds
At his words, Titus’s focus returned to Damen. After a moment, the wild look in his gaze relaxed, and Titus’s shoulders uncurled slightly.
It was then I noticed Miles was gone.
“What job?” Titus asked, his voice rough.
Damen exhaled, but didn’t complain about repeating himself. “Miles said there’s a curse. It’s tied to a physical object in the basement. But we can’t get to the object until Miles purifies the area first. He says it’s especially strong, so we don’t know how long it will take. It might be a few hours.”
“A few hours?” Concern flickered in Titus’s expression “What do you mean, hours? Can he do that?”
Damen frowned, not happy about the situation either. “He can with my help. But I admit things will be easier on him once the ceremony is completed.”
Ceremony?
“Are you talking about his graduation?” I asked, recalling Miles’s previous statements about his school. “And you’re probably looking for Lily’s bones. She was showing me where she was buried.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you went right for the bones?” Titus didn’t sound pleased, and his eyes returned to mine. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
Who was he to talk about danger? He probably killed more people in a week than I corresponded with in a single day. Which, granted, wasn’t a lot. Actually, it was only one.
But my average had been changing recently.
“Bones, huh.” Damen stroked his chin, deep in thought. “That would—”
Miles returned, carrying a bag I’d never seen before.
“Where in the world was…” I began, unable to stop myself.
“This was in Damen’s trunk.” Miles set the duffle on the table and unzipped it. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”
Well, yes. That was a sentiment I agreed with wholeheartedly.
However, as Miles laid out various items from the bag, my heart raced. Candles, bottles, water misters, tiny bags, herbs, an axe…
I fought the urge to ask: Was this bag prepared for this case only, or was this an everyday paranormal emergency bag? Or did all of them keep zombie apocalypse survival packs in their vehicles? If so, what kind of emergencies were they used to encountering?
And, perhaps, the most important question of all: Could I get a bag of my own?
“All right.” Damen clapped, gesturing to Titus and me. “You two can take care of things here. Eat Miles’s weird French chicken. Relax. Bond. We’ll take care of things downstairs. If we plan on digging up bones, then we have our work cut out for us.”
“Bones?” Miles’s head snapped up, and he narrowed his eyes at Damen. “What are you talking about?”
Damen opened his mouth, but I cut in. After all, it was me that Lily had told. “Lily said it’s where her body is buried.”
Miles raised his eyebrow. “So that’s what she was saying,” he mused, holding a glass jar to the light. “It makes sense. Using human remains to anchor a curse would make it strongest. Once the ground is cleansed, we might need to purify the remains before we can touch them too.” He glanced at Damen. “That alone will take a day. You and I will have to update our plans for tomorrow. I’ll need you, if you can handle it.”
I glanced between the two of them as Damen nodded.
“What are you talking about?” I felt as though I was missing something. “Is there something I can do to help?”
Miles’s eyes drifted over me, appraisingly. “Actually—”
“No.” Titus spoke up, holding me closer to him. “She’s nowhere near ready to attempt that.”
Damen rolled his eyes, interrupting Miles, who had opened his mouth to respond. “Relax, Titus. I wasn’t going to say ‘yes’ anyway.”
Titus’s arms loosened slightly, while Miles shot Damen an offended look. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Damen replied, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. “If we need her, which we won’t, we’ll discuss it then. Otherwise, between the two of us, we can make it work.”
Miles threw his hands in the air, looking exasperated. But after a second of continued silence from Damen, he shrugged and returned to his bag. “Suit yourself. But it wouldn’t kill anyone if you were to ask for help sometimes.”
“You’d be surprised,” Damen deadpanned, turning toward the door. “When Julian gets here, let him know. After all, if things go well, he’ll be up tomorrow night.”
Titus nodded in response.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out what they were refusing to ask my help with. “Hey—”
“All right, baby girl.” Damen stepped close to me. “Be a good girl for Titus, and get some sleep. Don’t get into any other suspicious situations without me.” He ignored Titus’s presence and kissed my forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
I watched him, suspicious. Damen was hiding something. But even if I argued, I could tell from his expression that he wouldn’t tell me.
Jerk. I crossed my arms, refusing to look at him anymore. I glared at Miles’s back instead. “Good night.”
Why were they so stubborn?
Damen sighed, but I didn’t watch him leave the room. Miles, a second later, glanced at me. His stone-faced expression softening as our gazes met. He smiled before he gathered up the supplies he’d set aside and made toward the door.
“Later, mon rêve.” His eyes turned to Titus. “And you too, I suppose. Good to see you, by the way. There are some here who might have missed you.”
“What do you mean, you suppose?” Titus’s voice was softer now, less tense. His jaw no longer seemed on the verge of breaking. “Since when do you have a nickname?”
“You better work harder.” Miles smirked, reaching the basement door. “Otherwise, even Julian will best you.” Then Miles laughed softly before stepping into the basement, closing the door behind him.
Chapter Twelve
Bianca
Intention
The room lapsed into silence as Miles’s footsteps receded. It took a moment for the changed atmosphere—the awkwardness—to register, but when it did, the feeling couldn’t be ignored.
Neither one of us spoke, and Titus shifted uncomfortably under me.
His nervousness was endearing. I’d been afraid of Titus before, but that was gone now. Instead, it was difficult to describe my feelings. All I knew for certain was that his presence seemed right.
Even so, now that he was here, I had no idea what to do with him.
Should we pretend that Damen and Miles weren’t doing weird things in the basement? It would look bad if we ate chicken and did each other’s hair while the others were hard at work. But what else could I do? They were pushing me off.
If only I could research what a purification ritual might involve. Then things might have gone differently. But I couldn’t do that either, because Damen still had my phone.
Which reminded me.
“Titus.” I poked his chest, waiting until I had his attention before I continued. “Something bad happened.”
A flicker of worry formed in his eyes. “What? Did someone give you German chocolates before I had a chance?”
“What?” The reeling visions of my broken pink phone paused as his question registered. Then I shook my head, chocolate wasn’t the issue here. Though I was curious to learn more about this plan. Titus was the techie, and so he needed to know more than I needed my questions answered.
Titus’s expression changed from wary concern to resignation as I told him. “Oh.” His shoulders slumped, and for the first time I registered how tired he seemed. It made my stomach clench at the thought of worrying him further. “Well, he won’t look at it. He respects the privacy of others. So nothing should break.”
I gasp, I had been right—again! I was getting so good at this.
“So he does kill technology?” I asked, pushing for clarification. “But he helped set up cameras the other day!”
“Not exactly.” Titus’s lips quirked. “First of all, Damen
is dangerous with his own possessions. He is careless and impatient. If there’s any system lag or glitches, he breaks the device by trying to fix it. We’ve learned the hard way that it’s easier to allow him only access to calls and texts, and to keep tablets away from him. Besides, he claims to prefer organizing his thoughts with pen and paper. He says it helps him slow down and think.”
I thought back to the notepads that he always seemed to carry. “Is that what he’s doing with all those notebooks? Writing and thinking?”
“The notebooks?” Titus asked, then nodded. “Yes, but he’s not always writing, either.”
He wasn’t always writing? Then… What was he doing?
“I’m hungry.” Titus rose with me still in his arms and moved through the room. “While I’m not sure why Miles keeps annoying me lately, there are benefits to having him around.”
Once we’d reached the counter, he seated me there. Meanwhile, Titus removed his outer jacket and rolled up his sleeves as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. Once done, he set dishes out on the round table and placed a pan on the potholder in the middle of the space.
I wasn’t sure if I should say something. Were we going to pretend nothing was going on downstairs?
“Aren’t you worried about them?” I asked, holding on to Titus’s arms as he helped me to the floor. “Should we really be doing this?”
“If we were to bother them now, it would be more distracting than helpful,” Titus replied, holding out my chair. “Miles needs to focus, and he can’t do that if you’re in the room. In the meantime, tell me about your day,” he said, spooning a hearty serving of the meal onto my plate.
I eyed the sizable portion before looking back to him. “It was fine…” I replied slowly, picking up my fork and knife. The latter reminded me of my rival—and my plans. “Despite stupid Bryce getting in my way all the time.”
“Bryce?” Titus lowered the frosted-glass pitcher and frowned. “Bryce Dubois? What did he do now?”
Besides lying about his pop quiz and standing by as Finn attacked me in a hallway? There was also a more terrible offense. Why wouldn’t he stop challenging me?
To answer Titus, Bryce had done everything.
“What doesn’t he do?” I stabbed the chicken, pretending it was Bryce’s eyeball.
“You don’t like Bryce?” Titus’s voice was calm. “Is there something I can do to help?”
There was an odd hitch to his voice. It caused me to tear my attention from my dinner.
Titus leaned over the table, his upper body braced on his forearms. The full weight of his attention was on me, but there was an unnerving glint in his eyes. Alarms rang through my head at his posture and the dangerous expression on his face.
“Pardon?” The word escaped while my mind remained frozen under the intensity of his gaze.
“I could make Bryce go away, forever,” Titus replied, undisturbed. As if he was discussing the weather. Not even a flicker of doubt crossed his expression. “Fae tend to be weak against me. Should I remove the nuisance?”
Acceptance was on the tip of my tongue, but something held me back. Titus was serious, and my response needed to be as well. The truth was, now that it was a possibility, the thought of Bryce being dead wasn’t so great.
While it was entertaining to fantasize about his beaten body and accepting the guy’s offer to help, it would be better to do the deed myself. The satisfaction of a victory earned, and all that.
Besides, Bryce might have been annoying, but he was mine to torture.
Plus, I didn’t want Bryce dead. Or to be gone forever. That was overkill. He only needed to be subdued. With Bryce gone, who would be left to hate? Life would be meaningless.
Well, there was always Finn. But I had plans for him.
“No, I can take care of him myself.” I tore my attention from Titus and shoved a piece of chicken in my mouth. He didn’t reply, and after a moment of silent chewing, my gaze drifted back to him. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but he actually seemed put out. “What’s wrong?”
His chin dropped onto his fist. “Is there anything you need from me?”
“Um…” What was he asking? Was he trying to kill someone else? Or was he talking about a material need? I wasn’t sure.
He had the sad-puppy-dog look down to a science, and my heart twisted painfully. He wanted to help, and I wasn’t letting him. It was impossible to resist his shining green eyes and full, pouty mouth. To make matters worse, his silken hair lazily drifted over his cheeks. He looked like an angel.
I was such a cruel person.
There was really nothing I needed, but perhaps… “There is one thing…”
His face lifted, and for the first time since he’d arrived, a genuine smile graced his lips.
“What on earth are you two doing?”
Julian’s unexpected arrival caused me to jump. The motion pulled the half-braided locks of my hair that were held firmly in Titus’s grip. “Ow!”
Titus released my hair, and the finished twists of his masterpiece loosened. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That was my fault.”
“How is this your fault?” I held the back of my neck, looking at him over my shoulder. “I’m the one who jumped.”
Titus really did look upset. “But I didn’t warn you that Julian was coming.”
“But…” I was about to ask how he’d know, but then figured the answer was obvious. He was a shifter, after all, and in all stories, they’d had heightened senses. It was probably safe to assume Titus had excellent hearing and eyesight.
“It’s okay.” I tugged one of the small braids adorning his own hair. It would have looked better without the sparkly hair ties, but those were all I had. Regardless, Titus managed to make random tiny braids look sexy.
Julian had crossed the room and was already lounging on a nearby chair. His focus was on the two of us. “I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair, Titus.” He sounded amused, but his tired face didn’t match his tone.
“It’s a hobby of mine,” Titus responded proudly, picking up the brush once again. He continued speaking as he removed his previous work to start over. “It’s as they say: A real man knows how to take care of a lady.”
“Oh, Titus.” Julian did smile at that. “I’m almost certain that hair-braiding isn’t what the expression refers to.”
Titus paused. “Then what does it mean?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice. “My mother told me women like having their hair played with. In fact, I brushed her hair every night.”
“That’s cute. But first of all, not all women,” Julian replied with a yawn. “Women have varying interests and preferences.”
“I’m not stupid.” Titus pointed the hairbrush at Julian. “And it doesn’t matter. Bianca enjoys this.”
“It’s true.” I nodded, wishing that Titus would resume the brushing. It’d been a long time since anyone other than myself had touched my hair.
Julian watched the two of us, interest lighting his expression. “While I’d love to continue with romantic lessons from Titus, I do have a more pressing concern to address.”
“Do you?” Titus scoffed, returning to his ministrations. “And what’s that?”
“Damen sent me a message,” Julian said. “Apparently, there are bones…”
“Bianca found them,” Titus replied. “Kind of.”
I turned on my knees, frowning at Titus. “Not kind of.” I frowned. How could he not get this right? First there’d be this, a minor thing. But then before I could stop it, they’d be consulting with Bryce. “Lily showed me where they were. All on my own. Miles only followed me.”
Titus glanced at me, almost apologetically. “That’s not what I meant…”
Julian’s mouth quirked. “Miles willingly went near a ghost?”
I grimaced. “Not exactly…”
“Come to think of it”—Titus watched me warily—“I didn’t ask. But how did you and Miles end up in the basement? How did you end up finding the bones?”
/>
“Well…” I touched my fingers, rushing through excuses in my mind. It sounded terrible to say that I dragged Miles down there. Especially considering that they’d asked me to not seek out any spirits on my own.
But finally, I decided the truth was best. “Kasai was telling us a story. Then I got a weird vibe. So, Miles and I went downstairs.”
“Somehow, I feel there’s probably more,” Titus said, suspicious. “This version sounds highly abridged.”
“Speaking of”—I raised my hand, remembering a very important detail—“I don’t care what you think, Kasai is mooching off of Damen’s lifeforce. How can you be so sure he’s not killing him?”
Titus moved to say something, but Julian interrupted. “What makes you think that? I’ve never noticed anything. And Damen has assured us that their bond is quite safe.”
“It was something Kasai said.” I launched into a quick recap of Kasai’s story. But Titus wasn’t satisfied only hearing to the point of when the shikigami had left us. I ended up giving the two a run-down of everything that had transpired before they’d arrived.
By the end of my recount, they were looking at each other.
“And now Miles is purifying the area.” Titus rubbed his forehead. “I’ve never seen Miles ask for help before.”
“Besides”—Julian watched the fireplace, deep in thought—“all these issues are obviously connected. Lily’s remains and her death, the curse that is affecting you now—though we’re not sure how—and whatever was happening to call Kasai away. He wasn’t concerned about the attic?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “No, he said it could wait until later.”
Julian frowned. “Unless he missed something. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Lily appeared only when Kasai left.”
It was scary, but with them with me, the idea didn’t seem so daunting. “We could go to the attic together. To check it out.”
Titus leaned forward, blocking me from Julian’s sight. “No.”
“Why not?” I asked, wondering why he seemed so serious.
It was Julian who responded. “It’s dangerous. And those spirits aren’t like Lily.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Julian read my expression. “It’s different, even with both of us. Neither of us can see them. Lily is fine, but the others have already come after you more than once. Without Damen, or Kasai, it’s too risky to seek them out.”
