“What the actual fuck?” the words spilled from my mouth. Panic bubbled up my throat, bitter and suffocating as I tried to rip my arm free. The spirits weren’t supposed to be able to physically touch me—only in some ethereal, spiritual way, or some bullshit like that. But the burning sensation where he held my wrist felt pretty damn real.
“Let go,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, bracing against the pew and yanking myself free from his hold.
In the chaos, the flashlight rolled under the pew, and I dropped to my knees, my hands shaking as I frantically searched for it. My fingertips brushed against the handle, and I stretched a little farther until my hand gripped the cold metal. Light flooded the room, but the church was empty.
The spirit was gone.
A mangy rat scampered across the floor, nearly colliding with my foot. My lips formed a thin line as I swallowed the building scream.
Without a second thought, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and bolted for the door.
That’s it. This was a stupid idea. I’m out.
My lungs burned for reprieve as I ran through the woods. My black Converse slipped over a moss-covered rock protruding from the soil, but not enough to break my stride. Or roll an ankle.
Finally, the empty parking lot with my lone SUV came into view. I snatched the car keys from my backpack and repeatedly punched the unlock button. My clammy hands fumbled with the handle before I yanked the door open and flung myself into the driver’s seat. I smashed the lock button on the door panel, like that would help keep the spirit out.
With a turn of the key, the engine sputtered to life. The windshield fogged from my ragged breaths, making it difficult to see into the night. I’d never encountered a spirit outside the confines of the church, and I prayed that was still the case. I squinted, my eyesight blurry without my wire-rimmed glasses, but nothing appeared from the trees.
The Jonas Brothers blasted through the car’s speakers as the Bluetooth synced with my phone, cutting through the silence with a jarring force. I shrieked and smacked the steering wheel before adjusting the volume knob, but froze when I saw it—a faint handprint wrapped around my forearm. Before I could process what had just happened, the music cut out, and a ringing noise filled the SUV’s cabin.
“Are you almost home?” My sister, Emory’s voice boomed through the speaker.
“Yes,” I said, trying to calm myself. I was thankful words came out at all.
“You haven’t even left your apartment yet, have you?”
“I’m just pulling out of the parking lot now.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, I was leaving a parking lot. A nervous laugh escaped my throat, but I choked out, “I’m on my way. Be there soon.”
“Fine,” she huffed as she ended the call.
I didn’t dare mention any of this to her. She and my father believed the spirits were responsible for my mom’s death, and I had spent the last nine years wondering if I was destined to meet the same fate.
I slammed the shifter into drive and sped out of the empty parking lot. I risked a glance in the rearview mirror, only to be met with that same unsettling darkness as before.
Everything I thought I knew about the spirits for the past twenty-one years was wrong.
CHAPTER 2
GREY
Iclawed at my throat, tearing at the flesh around the collar. A twisted smile tugged at the corner of my lips as blood flowed down the corded muscles of my neck. Self-mutilation was the only way to pass the time in this godforsaken place. The days blended together, making it difficult to tell how long I’d been down here. But it couldn’t have been more than six months.
“Fuck,” I snarled, unclenching my hands from the collar, trying to get my breathing under control. I gasped at the same moment my power surged, sending a shock of electricity, knocking me on my ass. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled the air as my limbs jerked and went limp. The collar not only bound my powers but used them against me.
The cold from the cement floor seeped into my bones as I lay there, staring up at the hell’s trap etched on the ceiling above. The binding magic pressed down on me, a suffocating weight. All I needed was someone to wipe away a single line, and I’d be free from this damn trap.
“Demon,” Devin spat as he descended the stairs, running a hand through his slightly graying hair. Devin wasn’t a particularly tall man, but his presence demanded attention.
I tried to push myself up from the floor, but my muscles spasmed and shook under my weight. He didn’t seem to notice the blood dripping down my neck from my latest attempt to free myself. Or…he didn’t care. My bet was on the latter.
“Fragile bag of flesh and bones,” I retorted, casting his disdain back at him.
The audible sigh made it clear he wasn’t in the mood, as he strode toward the shelves on the opposite wall housing the numerous magical objects he must have purchased on the black market. Men like Devin were never satisfied. They always needed more. More power, more money, more everything.
Devin pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the candle beside him. The flame flickered, casting a shadow over the tattered spines of the books. Devin slid a manicured finger over the books, and my heart dropped when his finger hovered over one in particular. I’d spent countless decades hunting down that particular spellbook. Looking for the spell to free myself from this collar, only to find myself trapped again.
Fucking pathetic.
