“Let me just finish this drink, and I’ll walk you and Emory home,” Cal said, taking a large gulp from his beer.
I waved off his offer. “I’ll be fine. You guys stay. I’ll text you when I get home.” I grabbed my purse and hurried for the door before anyone could argue. I hugged myself for warmth, and without thinking, started to take the shortcut through Trinity Cemetery, hoping to make my walk home a few minutes shorter.
The whine of the wrought iron gate cut through the unnatural silence as I pushed it open just enough to squeeze through. Cutting through the cemetery probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the quickest way, and right now, my top priority was getting home.
Under the moonlight, a chilly breeze rattled the limbs above, creating eerie, shifting shadows. I quickened my pace, power walking along the dirt pathway winding between the scatteredheadstones. I made a conscious effort to tread lightly, trying not to disturb those who lay peacefully in their eternal resting place.
A short, pudgy figure stood blocking the exit up ahead, the creaking gate rattling in the wind behind it. I squinted into the dark, trying to make out the figure, but it was there one second and gone the next.
“Stay away from me!” I yelled, launching into a sprint, clumsily making my way through the labyrinth of headstones. I barely got a few steps before granite smashed against my shin.
“Fuck,” I muttered, hopping on one foot. I looked around frantically but didn’t see anything.
I stood there, alone, encircled by death, wondering if the spirit had ever truly been there at all.
CHAPTER 10
GREY
Fuck me.
Despite all my power and seething fury, I was still a rat trapped in a cage—collared, contained, and dependent on a witch to set me free. A rat would chew off its own leg if it meant gaining its freedom, and if I thought I could survive decapitation, I would’ve tried it a long time ago.
The bar groaned and splintered between my fingers.
“Watch it,” Hayes, the bartender’s voice, echoed from my left as he pinned me with a stare.
He walked over, sliding a blonde girl next to me an incredibly bright pink drink. A hangover in a cup. She smiled, her front two teeth slightly crooked, and slipped Hayes a twenty-dollar bill with a wink.
But Hayes wasn’t staring at her. His dark eyes were on me. Hayes was probably the closest thing I had to a “friend.” I didn’t play well with other demons, but I tolerated him.
“Wanna talk about it?” he pressed, pouring two beers for a couple waiting at the bar.
“No.” A snarl tore from my lips. My glare told him to drop it, but of course, he couldn’t take a fucking hint.
“That girl sure was pretty,” he drawled.
“Drop it.”
He slid a shot of whiskey down the bar as a peace offering. The brown liquid sloshed around the rim of the glass as I threw it back, draining the contents.
I slammed my fist down, rattling everyone’s drinks. Ignoring the judgmental glares, I shoved away from the bar, searching the room for any sign of the witch. But she was nowhere to be found.
I chased after her scent, bursting out the door. The wind swirled, and I tugged on my hood as I stepped out of the Dutchman. Still no sign of her.
I stepped off the curb and down a small side street. A raven perched on the fence let out a harsh squawk. I raised my hand, shooing the damn thing away, hoping the death omen wasn’t planning on tagging along. Fortunately, it took flight and disappeared, leaving me in peace.
I continued walking down the quiet street of this miserable town. Every step brought back memories I’d spent centuries trying to forget. The town had changed, but that same unnerving feeling made my blood run cold.
Twisted Spires was a hot spot for supernatural creatures because of the ley lines that pulsed beneath the town. They were like a supernatural beacon, calling to anything not entirely human, waiting to be tapped into. The power had come from the witches burned at the stake a century ago, their magic seeping into the soil as their bodies turned to ash.
I hated this town. Hated everything about it.
And I hated the witch. I didn’t need to know her to hate her. All witches believed their powers made them untouchable, superior. But when I saw her tonight, something else stirred inside me. She was beautiful, and I despised myself for noticing.
A muffled cry pricked my ears. The noise led me straight into the cemetery. Newly turned earth couldn’t hide the stench of death permeating from the recently dug graves.
“Are you following me?” Color drained from the witch’s face when her eyes locked on mine. Her gaze darted toward the gate.
