“You won’t escape me this time, darling,” Lawrence said to Kit’s unconscious body. He backed out through the door, dripping petrol all the way to the other bedroom. It got the same treatment, though an odd pang of emotion swooped in his belly when they caught sight of Shaun once more.
You don’t want to do this to him.For all that Lawrence seethed and raged when he thought about Shaun, a part of him still desired Shaun more than anything.
“He betrayed me. He’s getting what he deserves.”
You want to spare him.
Lawrence paused. “Maybe. It would be nice to have my pet back.”
Quin channelled the emotions he had for Kit—all the love and fondness and adoration—into his body. He tried to channel it physically; to let it fill him up and replace the bitter, gnawing hatred that Lawrence was flooding him with. If he convinced Lawrence to save Shaun, then he might stall him enough to give Quin time to come up with a desperate solution.
But it wasn’t enough.
“No,” Lawrence said. “No. I will not take a betrayer to my bed.”
Quin’s panic spiralled. Time was running out.
Lawrence left the bedroom, dribbling the last of the petrol. He shook out the dregs and chucked the can into the hall, then pulled out the matches.
“Say goodbye, Quin.”
Lawrence lit a match, Quin experiencing the strike as if it was a physical blow. Lawrence raised the match high, the flame reaching upwards. His hand shook as Quin tried to wrest back control.
And then the flame blew out.
Lawrence sighed in frustration, dropping it and striking another match. He threw it on the petrol, but it extinguished before it landed.
“Are you doing this?” Lawrence demanded.
Quin wished he was, but he was just as confused as Lawrence.
“Hmph.” Lawrence struck yet another match. This time, it went out immediately, the smoke curling up and disappearing into the air.
Lawrence sighed. “The kitchen has an induction hob, doesn’t it?”
Yes.Quin let his satisfaction roll through him.
“Modern. Appliances,” Lawrence seethed. “I suppose we’ll have to do something less dramatic.”
Lawrence walked to the bedrooms once more, but stopped short when a ghostly figure appeared in the hallway. Matthew hovered an inch above the floor, staring him down. His body was as intangible as the match smoke, but his expression of pure hatred was clearly visible.
“Of course,” Lawrence said. “You followed us.”
Matthew raised an imperious brow. In a blink, Thomas materialised beside him. Quin waited, but Jack didn’t appear.
He just didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
TWENTY-NINE
Kit
Kit openedhis eyes to his own reflection staring back at him in the darkness. He blinked, taking a second to process that he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. His other senses crept in slowly, but he couldn’t seem to move.
Something was very,verywrong.
It didn’t come to him immediately, but then realisation dawned. It was still daylight. No sunbeam could sneak past the thick curtains—they’d checked multiple times—but he knew it deep down. And then a smell hit his nose. Acrid, cloying petrol.
Pressure built in his centre, and he went to press a hand to his sternum. Except, his hand didn’t move how he wanted it to. It travelled in front of his body instead, flexing.
