I study his handsome face, trying hard not to fan the fire that’s burning inside me. “It’s not too late. And it’s not like I’m some inspirational chick living life to the fullest with amazing Instagram pictures to prove it. I do nothing but work and justify it to myself that I’m making the world a better place. Yeah, my life might be empty and unfulfilling, but the dead guy in the alley had a great life and I owe it to him and his family to find the low-life who killed him.” The words rush out of me, and the raw honesty almost feels as good as sex.
Almost.
“You fear fear.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” I bring my arms close to my body, fighting off a chill. I’m convinced this house is never going to heat up. “And clowns. I am absolutely terrified of clowns.”
“What’s a clown?”
“A horrible, terrifying, and most likely soul-sucking creature meant to entertain children.” I take my phone from the coffee table and do a quick Google search for clowns.
“They are terrifying,” Jacques agrees, eyes wide. “They’re for children?”
“Theoretically.”
“What is their purpose?”
“They’re supposed to be funny, but most people disagree.”
“I’m one of them,” Jacques says so seriously it makes me laugh.
“A really creepy clown movie came out a few years ago and I wanted to watch it, you know, to face my fears. But I couldn’t do it.” I smile and roll my eyes at myself. “Maybe someday, right?”
“Right.” He angles his torso in toward mine and brings his hand up, gently cupping my cheek. “You look so much like her,” he whispers, and I think he’s talking to himself and not me.
“Who?”
His hand falls and his dark eyes cloud over with emotion. “No one.”
“Braeya?”
Jacques turns away. “You should go if you want to make it back around midnight. There’s not much time left.”
“Right.” I shake myself and stand, going upstairs to change out of my PJs and back into the clothes I had on earlier. It’s a bit too chilly to go out in shorts just yet. Jacques isn’t in the living room anymore when I come back down. I take a lingering look through the house, finding everything to be quiet. I’m almost to the front door when the floor creaks behind me.
“He’s not going to talk about her.”
I whirl around to find Gilbert casually leaning against the wall. He was so not there a second ago.
“Braeya?” I ask.
“Yes. I don’t even know the details.”
“Who was she? Did they have a thing going between them or something?”
Gilbert pushes off the wall, large wings blocking out the light behind him. He’s just a shadow in the dark right now, a large black shape looming near me.
“It started as a spell.”
“A spell?”
“I just said that, didn’t I? Keep up, Detective.”
I make a face. “She cast a spell on him?”
Gilbert nods. “Jacques held a high position within the Templars. There were many who opposed us, hell, even I opposed us, and they’d do whatever they could to break us down. All I know is Braeya—and her father—came from a long line of pagan magicians. She cast a love spell on Jacques to get information on the Templars. When she discovered that not all of the Templars were assholes, she lifted the spell. But whatever he felt during the spell didn’t just go away. They saw each other after.”
“That’s fucked up.”
