Damien shoots me an empathetic look. I want him to hold me, to pull me into his arms and comfort me. But when I reach for him, he keeps me at a distance. “Hold still,” he says. Gripping my jaw, he tips my head back and licks across my neck. Until this moment, I'd forgotten about my knife wounds. But once he eases back, I can see my front is covered in rivulets of blood. The damage the knife has done to my throat must have been worse than I thought.
“Thank you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I shouldn't have left you.”
“Why did you?”
“To hunt.” When my brows rise, he clarifies, “Animals. I heard you scream and came as fast as I could. Listen to me carefully, little dragon. I have to go now. I must dispose of this body before sunrise forces me underground. But I need you to do something for me. The man broke a sidelight window on your front door to get in. Call the police. Tell them you saw this man but that he ran off when you turned on the light.”
I rub my eyes, feeling absolutely exhausted, too exhausted to ask what he plans to do with the body. “Okay.”
His gaze scrapes down my blood-soaked skin. “Shower and dress first.” He pulls me into his arms, kissing me softly.
His tenderness draws a sob from my throat. “Tony will never stop, will he?”
“Everyone stops when they're dead,” Damien says in atone that is soft but matter-of-fact, patient but unyielding. “I tried to tell you before, a man like him won't be told no. He wants this house, and he's willing to kill you for it. He cares for nothing but himself and his fortune. He won't hesitate to try again.”
My heart rises until I can feel it pounding in my throat, and my voice comes out barely a whisper. “Damien, will you help me kill him?” I can't believe what I’m asking. I squeeze my eyes closed against it, even as cool air tells me that Damien has drawn back to look at me.
“Open your eyes, little dragon.”
I obey.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Tony wants me dead. It's undeniable.” As painful as it is to grieve what I thought we'd once had, I have to face the truth. “It's like you once said in your story about Isobel Gowdie. This is kill or be killed. I won't be killed.”
He sighs, smoothing my hair back from my face. “When the sun sets tonight, I'll take care of Tony.” It’s a promise. “Now, the night grows thin.”
I look away as he rolls the intruder in the hall carpet, then lifts the bundle into his arms. With one last goodbye, he leaves in a blur of speed, racing down my steps and out the front door. Alone again, I pad back into my bedroom, take the world's fastest shower, and shove my body into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Hugging myself against a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, I trudge downstairs, view the damage, and call the police.
39
Life Is Full of Surprises
ELOISE
It takes all morning for the tiny Echo Mills PD to investigate my break-in. I describe the killer in detail, although I lie as Damien suggested and say he ran off once I turned on the lights. I’ve never enjoyed lying, and lying to the police, considering I went to elementary school with the officer assigned, is completely against my nature. But what choice do I have?
The officer takes all my information and promises to patrol the area for the next few days. He also reminds me that insurance should cover replacing the glass.
Once he’s gone, I clean up the broken glass and cover the sidelight with plastic wrap and duct tape. Then I call Grams's old insurance agent, Marilyn Maples. She says she'll send someone out to fix the glass as soon as possible.
“You know, I was going to call you,” Marilyn says. “Nora had a life insurance policy, Eloise. You are the sole beneficiary.”
“Oh?” Grams had mentioned something about that, but I'd forgotten all about it.
“Is it okay if I stop by with the paperwork sometime in the next few days? It's not something we can do over the phone.”
“Sure,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow? It's been a busy day, as you can imagine.”
“Sounds good, hon. And I am sorry to hear about Nora. She was one of a kind.”
“Thanks. I thought so too.” I end the call and have a good cry.
I've experienced plenty of loss in my life. My grandfather first when I was barely ten, my parents at seventeen, and now my Grams. Even my divorce is a type of death, although that one brought me more relief than anything. But sitting in this empty house, surrounded by things from the past, fading pictures and furniture from another time, is like being surrounded by ghosts.
I try to nap but can't sleep. TV is impossible. The reception is worse than ever, and the Wi-Fi is out again. Finally, I decide if I don't give my grief somewhere to go, it will ruin me.
