“No. I can’t fight for a world when I don’t have my rock, my heart, and the man I’ve chosen to share a life with by my side with the full facts. If I can’t be honest, I’m done. No more secret meetings.”
“You don’t get to leave,” Dave said.
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
Lucifer dragged a hand down his face. “Dave?—”
“No one can leave,” Dave insisted.
“Actually, everyone can leave except you,” my aunt said.
“Why not?”
“You can’t leave, because you are the Serpent, Cora.”
“I’m a frustrated doctor with supernatural drama.” The words were brittle. I knew better, but I couldn’t help but wish to rewind to a simpler time.
Lucifer pressed his lips together and tilted his head to the side like he was trying to find the right words. “In the Garden of Eden, Eve was faced with a choice, much like you.”
“Delivered by the devil, if I recall.”
“Not exactly. The serpent that appeared and offered Eve the apple, was gifting her choice and free will. And that, rather than remaining blind, was what she chose. You are, in effect, that serpent once more, but you have to make that choice for them this time.”
“If I can’t leave, then I’m telling my mate everything. That is what I choose.”
Aira laid her cool hand over mine. “You can tell Hudson everything. You can walk out of this realm. You can scream until the air splits. Whatever you need.”
“But we,” Lucifer said, voice low and final, “can never leave you. We are your protectors or your weapons, depending on your choice.”
“Protect me from what?” I asked.
Lucifer folded his arms. “Everything. The Fifth Seal was born when the world began to crack. You are the heir Heaven and Hell have been waiting for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The triad of a perfect day: tea, trauma, and therapy.
The living room of Summer Grove House looked like a séance gone wrong.
I sat on the sofa, clutching a mug of tea while six ghosts argued over the television remote. I think one of them was the previously naked dude going to town on his lady, but I couldn’tbe sure now that he had jeans and a checkered shirt on. Judging by their clothing, the six of them had been dead for varying lengths of time, but all of them had opinions about channel selection and none of them had a volume control.
Harry hovered in front of the screen like a self-appointed moderator. “We are not watchingThe Sixth Senseagain. It’s inaccurate and deeply offensive.”
A woman in a floral dress from the 1950s crossed her arms. “It’s a classic, Harold.”
Who?
Rebecca tutted from her place beside me, and Harry sighed. “For the last time, it’s Harry.”
“That’s what I said.”
The remote shot through two ghosts and hit the wall. “I wantScream,” a teenage girl dressed in a cheerleading uniform snapped. She flicked her bouncy blonde ponytail over her shoulder. I had enough drama without adding supernatural mean girls to the list.
“That movie was shit,” the guy in jeans groaned. “It was a joke.”
The girl fanned her face. “Give me a man in a mask any day, and I’ll show him a good time.”
Everyone stared at her. “Is she sexualizing a guy who murders for fun?” Rebecca muttered.
