“No.” I sniffle as I bottle back the old Lenora pleading to be let out. “I love you and I would die for you, but I will not stop. Last night … I watched Etienne Duval die the worst death he couldpossibly imagine. And I looked in his eyes as he realized why.” I scrub viciously at my cheeks. “They will all feel that fear. Not die quietly by a gun in some alley. They will scream and suffer.”
Marcus says nothing.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to say.
Maybe he’s too horrified to speak.
“Tonight, I will visit his wife and tomorrow, his brother. I will kill each and every one of them until they become a warning to the world that—”
The doorbell sounds.
Chapter Twenty
Lenora
We’rebackatUsherHouse.
It somehow happened between a blink. One second, I’m on Marcus’s lap, arguing about my choices and the next, we’re at his desk, on his office. I’m still in his lap, but…
Marcus meets my gaze and I know he’s as frightened as I am as the doorbell sounds a second time.
Loud.
Persistent.
“Marcus?”
His heart hammers against my shoulder, a frantic patter that mirrors my own.
“I … I don’t know.”
The relentless buzzer sounds a third time.
Neither Marcus, nor I move. I don’t think we can. A large part of my brain can’t even be sure this is real. Or was us, in the car, parked on the highway not real?
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Whoever’s outside is determined to get in.
Marcus rises slowly, coming out of his shock faster. I’m nudged gently to my unsteady feet. He captures my fingers. Tight.
“Don’t let go.”
I have no plans to. I’m not sure I’m prepared to handle whatever’s happening on my own.
We cross the house at a much too slow pace, but neither of us is anxious to see the person rapping their knuckles against the wood.
Shadows yawn and expand across the familiar marble extending the length of the foyer. Dull fingers of late afternoon sun ooze through windows unwashed. It creates square patches beneath our feet as we arrive at the door.
We both pause at the sight of the twin silhouettes stamped through the stained glass surrounding the heavy oak.
It can’t be the demon. He has no reason to knock, but I watch Marcus reach the brass knob with one hand and nudge me behind him with the other. The latch gives and we face the intruders.
Two police officers in navy uniforms and solemn expressions peer at us from the other side. I believe they’re familiar but my head refuses to think straight.
Marcus recognizes them. His fingers don’t loosen, but he glances from one to the other with a blank expression.
“Charlie. Reuben. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
