The sight of my father being yanked away would be emblazoned in my mind for a long time to come—his deep-set eyes wide, his jaw dropped, his whole body surging as if he could somehow find a way to protect me. But he’d been protecting me my whole life, and it was time I stood on my own.
It was time I protected him.
My heart beat out of control as I froze in place, unable to chase after him, unable to do anything but watch as he was yanked out of the room. Amelia followed hot on their heels, leaving me alone with Cillian once more. The silence now echoed louder, as if the chaos and intensity of mere moments before lingered in the room.
No doubt the Spires were filled with thousands of ghosts like this.
“No sense in waiting around here,” Cillian said, cutting smooth strides toward the door. “I’ll show you to your chambers.”
Just like that. His calmness unsettled me and made me rage at the same time. That he could be so unfeeling at tearing a family apart. That he could send my father away so easily, hold people captive and treat them like hell. Bubbling anger scorched through me, the kind that wouldn’t cool any time soon.
“Right, my chambers,” I muttered as I followed him out the door.
More like my prison.
Chapter 5
Ididn’t know why I’d expected a tour.
Cillian clearly wasn’t the welcoming sort, and after a quick gruff “here,” he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.
The click of the door echoed through the room like the lock of a prison cell, and I strode up to the knob and twisted it, just to check I hadn’t been locked in. Open. I sucked in a shaky breath. The reality of what had occurred hadn’t settled in yet, even though I had absorbed the facts of our meeting. My hands still trembled from the adrenaline. The lingering scent of Dad’s cologne remained, but I wasn’t sure if it was a phantom memory or an actuality.
I sagged against the door and viewed my surroundings. My cage was a gilded one, though that shouldn’t be a surprise. I surmised that anything in this part of the Spires would be decorated to the same degree as the rooms I’d seen so far. The goth-chic motif continued here, a purple comforter looking likea splash of bright color against the black bedframe, and the massive dresser and armoire the same obsidian shade. The walls were a deep gray with pale-gray accents, and a large mirror faced the bed on the opposite side.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket, half expecting I’d be shut off from Wi-Fi access.
Curious, I clicked through a few webpages, and everything seemed to be in working order. The urge to type out a message to my dad, to hit up my coworkers, rose in a real way, but I had the sinking suspicion that was too easy. No wealthy casino owner would be negligent with the man he’d pressed into servitude for the next decade.
He’d given me no parameters, no inclination of what to expect from my new role, my new home, my new life.
Anxiety rushed through me like I’d stepped into a tub of menthol.
I dragged myself across the room and plunked down onto the bed, sinking into the mattress. My mind whirled, and I curled my fingers into the plush comforter, but no amount of luxury could eliminate the fact my life had gone through such a major upheaval in a mere hour. All I owned was the clothes on my back and what filled my messenger bag.
What made it even sadder was that I hadn’t left behind anything of consequence.
My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, as hopeless and helpless as I expected. I’d inherited my father’s blond curls, and I’d had to buy fitted clothes since I landed more in the slender category and liked my clothes snug. Yet I didn’t look put-together. No, the man who stared back had looked ruin in the eye and welcomed it in.
If I stayed in this room, I’d lose my mind far too quickly. However, if I wandered around, would I invoke Cillian’s ire? I stood from my spot on the bed, needing to roam. He hadn’tstated I was confined to my room, so I’d err on the side of ignorance if caught. Anything was better than sitting in this box and letting my reality melt into place.
I slid my phone into my pocket and dropped my messenger bag on the ground, as if the motion would somehow make this room feel more like mine. Tall order. Pressure rose inside me, like a balloon ready to pop, and I bolted for the door. A few steps down the hallway and I could breathe again. If I could keep moving, maybe I could ignore the fact I was actually confined.
The hallway looked as dim and dark as before, but I didn’t have Cillian’s oppressive presence around at least, congesting the corridor even more. I drank in the crispness of the shadows and crept forward, making sure to keep quiet. How far did this upper area stretch out? If it was half as large as the casino below, guaranteed it’d be sprawling. I snapped a quick photo of the corridor, particularly the location of my new bedroom, and then continued on.
When I reached the end of the hall, I turned right, heading down a similar stretch of muted lights and dark, ominous doors. Truthfully, at this point, Cillian was coming across a bit edgelord or drama queen with the amount of black splashed around the place. A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep it from escaping. A bit farther down this corridor, light spilled out into the hallway from an open door.
My curiosity drove me forward. I’d tried to beat the trait into submission years ago, but then I’d chosen the career of librarian, which had allowed it to grow and blossom.
A jaunty whistle came from the open door, and I drew closer, slowing my pace.
Moving kept me from breaking down, though, so I’d keep going. That had been my strategy through life, and while ithadn’t always served me the best, I’d survived. More than I could say for many in Peregrine City.
When I reached the edge of the door, I paused. Who else resided up here? I was utterly in the dark, and not just due to Cillian’s dismal décor choices.
I sucked in a breath and peered around the corner. The room looked to be another meeting suite similar to the one he’d taken me to—honestly, what did one demon need with this many rooms?—and a tall figure was wiping a cloth over the table, his back to me. The song he whistled tickled at my memory, not because it was a sweeping classic, but I could swear it was some pop hit the radio had played on repeat ten years ago.
I rapped against the doorframe so I wasn’t just gawking in like a creeper, and he whirled around.
