“I can’t, my Rose,” I say and watch as tears start to flow down her cheeks, she begins to shake her head, and her body closely follows—fear. Aamon is good, I’ll give him that. “Aamon, well done,” I say. Lifting my hand and placing it on Ari’s cheek, she moves to hug me and starts pleading with me to shimmer her out of here, to keep her safe. “But you forgot something important.” Tracing my finger over where Ari’s witch’s mark should be on her left cheek, the mark of the Book Reader. “Her mark.” I lower and cup Ari’s face and look into her eyes. “Even in my illusions, you’re stunning, but you’re not her.”
My body bows backward, and I cry out as I’m ripped from my Rose; Aamon stands before me, furious. He’s not getting to me like this. I’m a Lord of Hell and ruler of the Dream Realm; it’s going to take a lot more than a simple illusion to fool me.
“Gaelan, you disappoint me. Macy told me not to kill you, but—” He shimmers his sword into his hand and pushes it into my stomach. I cry out as pain laces through my body. He whispers in my ear, “Icanmake you fucking bleed.” He twists the sword, and my body jolts and shakes, blood pouring from the wound. “Do you know what she promised me?”
I cough, unable to answer.
“She said I can have a taste of your Rose before we decide what to do with her. I might just keep her for myself.” He licks my cheek before ripping the sword out of my body. Too weak to open my eyes, too weak to fight.
“My Rose!” I roar.
Chapter 21
ARIANNA
“My Rose.”
Sitting up quickly and clutching at my neck, as an unfamiliar feeling tightens in my body, almost suffocating me. Looking around the room, I could have sworn I heard Gaelan calling my name. I’ve not heard from him, and he’s meant to be here tomorrow. I tried to call him, but the line was cut off.
Oh god, I hope he hasn’t ghosted me.
Lying back down in bed, I look at the clock and see it’s only nine in the morning; I got to my aunt’s place late last night. It was odd coming into her house without her being here. I sat outside for a while just staring at it; the flowers at the front sagged where they hadn’t been watered, the curtains were all closed; it was as if the house was asleep, like it was waiting to be woken up, the wards were still in place, and they felt a little stronger somehow. The front gate was broken; it was swinging on its hinges, and I wondered if someone had tried to force their way in. If they did, they didn’t get very far.
I walk into the dark hallway, and the house seemed to swell with happiness, as if it was missing some kind of light—it was,it was missing my aunt. I didn’t do much searching last night. I unpacked and spent the time in the living room, sitting in my aunt’s favorite chair. That chair went everywhere with her; it’s currently a pink and cream striped color, but it has been reupholstered so many times that I’ve forgotten what it initially looked like. It still smells like her.
Closing my eyes, I fight tears. I’m not meant to be crying; they wouldn’t want me to cry.
Pulling in a deep breath, I sit up. I hadn’t planned on leaving the house, so the only thing I packed was comfy clothes, underwear, and fluffy pajamas. I pick out a pair of sweatpants and Gaelan’s hoodie; it still smells like him. I bet he did that on purpose, the possessive man that he has shown me he is
I won’t call you, but here, have a constant reminder of me.Why do men have to be so frustrating?
The feelings that I refuse to acknowledge when I think about that man are strong, confusing, and overwhelming.
I pick up my phone, which I had put down in the kitchen, and put some hot water on. Aunt May has one of those old-fashioned fireplaces that she liked to cook on; it always reminded me of being in a Victorian kitchen, but with copper pans. I wave my hand over it and whisper, “ignis,” and flames roar to life. I pour the hot water into the kettle, add it to the hook, and swing it into the fire.
I stopped at the shop in town before I got here to get some essentials, but I’m going to have to go shopping at some point; I can’t live off toast. Additionally, I need to plan for Gaelan’s arrival. Even if I now don’t think he will.
After making myself some tea and toast, I sit in the living room. The silence wraps around me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lonely. I close my eyes, and tears start to fall.
I miss my family.
A few hours later,I’m looking up at the attic hatch, wondering if it’s actually a good idea to go up or not—most scary movies and TV shows say that it’s not. There’s always some creepy doll or ghost waiting to possess whoever enters their home. The house protects itself from bad things, but I’m not sure if ghosts are included.
Bracing myself, I put my big girl panties on and begin climbing up the ladder, blindly reaching for the light when I get to the top. Aunt May was always a bit of a clean freak, so, of course, everything is in order up here; boxes are labeled and stacked neatly, and the space is clean. Although it’s only dusty because no one’s been up here for a while.
Looking around, I walk over to the first stack of boxes, with words written in pink pen on them: my aunt’s clothes and blankets. She kepteverything. I spot a stack of very old-looking boxes over in the far-right corner. Walking over to them, I see that they have the name “Jay” on them with some kind of drawing; I can’t make out what it is, but it looks a bit like a lizard. I pull open the first one and its photos and paintings, I smile, it’s of a pretty redhead with amber eyes, the ‘Jay eyes’ as my grandfather would call them.
I close the lid and push the box over to the hatch, then I go back for more. By the time I’ve finished, I have a box of photos, a box of paperwork, and some letters. I don’t know any spells for transporting, so I carry each one down and into the living room. Now, with a sore back, I grab a bottle of wine and pull open the box containing the paperwork; it seems a good place to start.
Finishing the bottle of wine—whichI needed to go through all these papers—I find that most of it is useless, and the stuff that isn’t is things I want to keep, such as my parents’ marriage certificates, for one, but nothing about the book or even where to find it.
“Fuck” I groan, wishing I’d gotten more than one bottle and had some dinner.
Standing up, I turn off the lights and head upstairs to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. I strip my clothes off and jump into bed, snuggling down. I don’t have my stars to look at here, so it takes me a while to drop off to sleep.
“My Rose.”
Darkness surrounds me; I blink, but I can’t adjust to the lack of light. I hear the gentle flow of water and the sound of dripping. My breath catches, making me regret taking it when a smell so foul burns my nose and makes bile fill the back of my throat. Something rattles in the distance, like chains scraping across a stone floor.
