I scoff. “Of all the spirits that could’ve haunted me, why did it have to be you?”
“I can’t sit on the chair,” she says, voice quiet and despondent, as ifsittingon something is the biggest issue right now.
Tough shit, princess.
I ignore her dramatics and stab the book with my finger. “What the fuck is this?”
The threat of violence laced through my tone does nothing to get her attention. She reaches out to touch the table, only her hand doesn’t make contact, going right through. Her bottom lip quivers, and my patience snaps. I flip the table—big enough to fit at least ten people—catapulting everything on it across the floor.
Then I round on her, getting right up in her face.
“Why the fuck am I here? If you don’t tell me or give me some sort of explanation, Iwillkill you again. Don’t call my bluff because I’m in no mood for games.”
Her eyes widen as I barge into her with my chest, pushing her back a few steps. “Words. Now.”
She lifts a trembling hand between us, attempting to place it on my chest, but I capture her wrist before she can touch me.
“Am I not making my threat clear enough?”
“You… y-you can touch me?” Her watery gaze slips from where our skin is touching to my eyes.
My grip falters. I let go of her and back away. “Unfortunately.”
Was it not obvious when I snapped her neck those several times? I’m stuck here with the most dim-witted ghost in existence.
She pissed me off when she was alive, and somehow she’s worse now.
“I’m going to count to ten, and you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Nod if you understand.”
She doesn’t. Because of course she doesn’t.
Her nostrils flare like she’s going to cry. Again.
“Ah, ah, ah.” I cover her mouth with my hand before she can make a sound. “No sounds. I said… nod.”
She does.
Was that so hard?
“Where did you get the grimoire from?” I ask, wanting to start light before I get into the deeper stuff. “Are you a witch?” Or was she, before I killed her.
Despite being scared, she scowls at me. “Of course not.”
I grab the chunky book and wave it in her face. “Where did you get this?”
Her lips press together, and she looks away.
God. I want to throttle her, but I also enjoy this attitude—there’s not only annoyance running through my dead veins but also a touch of excitement. No one has given me this shitty behavior in a long time. I want more, but more importantly, I need fucking answers.
“Why summon me?”
Nothing.
A Tor’Oth could be on the way given the number of times I’ve used my powers and left demonic residue in my wake—I’ll be dragged away before I can figure out how to get free from this prison.
I need answers. And I need them now.
“I can’t finish my deed unless I know why I’m here.” Not that I want to return to Hell, but she doesn’t need to know that. Also, there’s a huge chance this is a test. I could be stuck in mental torture right now, and I need to focus.
