To save her ghost-hunting career, psychic Kayde Foster must confront an evil and darkly attractive entity that has taken up residence in her uncle's business.
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Kayde prides herself on being fearless. Ghosts? Crumbling buildings? Scary legends? No...
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Somehow, some way, I ended up snagging a few hours of good sleep.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the really nice bath; the water was so warm it was nearly scorching. It felt good to be clean again. I felt more like myself. More like I was ready to handle the shit storm that was about to go down tomorrow...
But that was a lie.
A sense of dread washed over me as I stared at the pretty-painted ceiling, wrapped up in burgundy silk sheets and fluffy comforters. I'd never slept in a bed as nice as this. I sank right in, almost like it was swallowing me alive—and it felt so damn nice.
It still must've been in the early morning, given that the sun hadn't risen yet. Did this pocket realm even have a sun? I only remembered it being dark when I arrived...
Fuck. I didn't want to deal with whatever was going to happen next. I missed Darby so much. Did she think I was dead? Did Chris? What are they doing right now? Did they have any idea what Ozzol was planning?
My gaze slid to the metal dagger sitting on the nightstand, my stomach clenching.
Will I really have to kill the Shadow?
It sounded so impossible; it was almost laughable.
Choices, he had said last night, his sultry voice lapping at the recesses of my mind. I will always lend them.
That was nice, but I wasn't a violent person. All my life, I've seen dead people, seen their past, and it was pretty horrible. Sometimes, though, it was peaceful and full of love. I preferred the latter. There wasn't a mean bone in my body, no matter the horrible shit I'd seen, the feelings and rage I had felt at the most heinous crimes.
I was a coward. A damn coward.
Would you kill him for those you loved?
Yes, I would, but I didn't want to. Sure, he wasn't human, and he was pretty evil—he liked eating people, for one—but he'd never hurt me. At least, not yet.
I blew out a big breath and rubbed my eyes. I wasn't sure what time it was, or if time was a thing here. I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen. I felt like I was treading water—lying in bed, doing nothing—and that my anxieties were going to pull me down to such depths I'd never resurface.
What if you begged? Pleaded?
I thought about that for a second, but decided that was a dumb idea. As much as he'd probably love to hear it. I was only a pawn in his game, and he needed me for this to work. But there was also softness in his gaze sometimes—but it was hard to tell. I had a feeling he was missing a few screws in the upstairs area. Pointless.
But maybe not.
His voice came slithering back like the tendrils of his dark magic. I do not grant wishes. I grant deals. When a subject refuses to hold up their end of the bargain, their life is forfeit.
