This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. I was tempting fate bringing a demon to this sacred place. But the whispers wouldn’t relent, and I wasn’t coming out here alone.
I braced myself, expecting voices, movement—anything. But no spirits waited for me. The whispers only scratched at the back of my mind. The piercing, invasive thoughts from earlier had died down to only small whimpers and pleas.
I got comfortable, sitting on the church pew, dangling my shoes from my hand. The hike out here in heels had been torturous.
I waited for Grey to step inside, but he refused to move from the doorway. His posture was rigid, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“Grey?” I called out, making sure he was still there after sitting in awkward silence for what felt like an eternity.
There was no answer, but I heard his labored breathing.
“This fucking place,” Grey murmured as he finally stepped inside.
“So—” My voice cracked. I coughed, trying again. “So did you find what you were looking for in the spellbook?” I decided to fill the void.
“I’m more interested in the reason you dragged me to this fucking place.”
“Language,” I scolded, preparing to be smited by an angry god for one of the many sins I had committed tonight.
Grey rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. What are we doing here?”
“Oh. Um, sometimes the spirits…whisper.” My mouth went dry at the words. I faced him, taking a deep breath to collect my unruly thoughts. “Sometimes the spirits whisper, and I come out here to the church to help them pass across the veil.”
His nostrils flared. “You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re a shepherd of lost souls. And you’re just bringing this up now? Witches and their fucking secrets.”
“I don’t make it a habit of telling people about my freakiness.”
A muscle in Grey’s jaw clenched. “Of course.” He looked around. “The church is now an entrance. No wonder she was obsessed with this place.”
“Hey, you don’t tell me anything either.” I crossed my arms. “Trust is a two-way street.”
Lightning flashed, shining through the stained-glass window. The spirits always seemed to be the loudest at the worst times, like during a storm. Thunder followed the lightning strike, one after the other, rattling the world around us. Rain was inevitable; the only question was how long it would hold off.
“Whose spellbook is it?” I asked. “If we’re going to work together, we need to start telling each other things.”
I was met with only silence. Nervous energy bubbled up in me and I shot to my feet, no longer able to sit still.
“Veda.” He spoke so quietly I almost missed it.
I had a name. It was a start.
“If you want me to cast a spell from someone else’s spellbook, I’m going to need more information.” I said, tiptoeing to the front of the church. I needed to get rid of these jitters.
“You get three questions.”
“Five,” I countered.
“This isn’t a negotiation. Take it or leave it.”
“Who’s Veda?”
“The witch who put the collar around my neck.”
“No shit.” Grey looked at me like that was a sufficient answer to my question. Like he hadn’t just regurgitated the same information.
“If you want better answers, ask better questions.”
I rolled my eyes. I could strangle him, but that would probably just turn him on.
