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“I want you to finally see what you’ve been too fucking stupid to see,” the voice growls.

The mirror appears again, beholding me in a newly gilded frame.

“Do you see yourself? You can’t remember a thing. You’re lost. You’re pathetic. Wake up⁠—”

I emerge from the bath with a deep gasp, dizzy and disoriented. My head aches to the point of black spots forming at the corners of my eyes. Breathe. It’s okay.

Christian had been right. Kieran Lazarus was a keeper of secrets, bringer of death. But why had Christian, too, not taken me away from this place?

“Don’t allow the world to mess with you.” Daisy’s cool hand is on the nape of my neck. A yelp escapes my mouth and Misty comes bounding up to the tub. I scramble for a towel, slipping on the cold tile and falling flat on my back. The impact sends shooting pain up my spine. She reaches for me, but her hand passes through the tips of my fingers.

“Daisy, I need you to tell me the truth. What is really happening here?” Imploring assistance from a woman who might be dangerous is not beneath me at this juncture. My hand drifts to the base of my spine, rubbing the stinging sensation away.

“I physically can’t tell you that Marisa.” The intonation behind her voice resembles a tumble of rocks, abrasive and guttural. “Everything needs to trickle in. Think about it, when there’s a dam, its primary purpose is to hold back all the tons of water right? What happens when suddenly it breaks and the pressure causes a great flood to wash over a poor unsuspecting valley town? Death. Chaos. As opposed to a small crack? That would mean a small meandering trickle of water slowly pouring into the valley. It does less harm, yes?”

My jaw tightens, a vein pulsing in my temple. My steely gaze fixes on her, burning with challenge. If that vision was right, she had colluded with Kieran to kill a woman. Was she his mistress? Could Sara have been the one to hold Kieran’s affections? Warranting a drastic measure from Daisy to rid herself of competition? Still, I need her answers.

“What is your purpose here?”

She looks at me with a dreamy, vacant expression. “Your father was rich, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I reply, venom infused into every letter.

“Ask Christian about the car accident. Better yet, allow him to show you.”

“What for?” I ask.

“Don’t be stupid Marisa, we can’t afford this. I think I’m figuring things out with you. We need each other.” Daisy grips my shoulders, her hands digging in as she shakes me. A twist of agony contorts on her features, and her mouth opens on a silent wail. Thick black droplets race from the recesses of her mouth, dripping onto the tile beside me.

Misty’s growl bounces around the cavernous space.

A knock raps loudly against the bedroom door. “Marisa!” It’s Kieran. I push off the floor, swatting her grip away and reach for the robe I’d left on the sink. My gaze flickers to her. Daisy had already shrunk into the dark, wet corner of the shower. The substance is gone, her face back to normal. “What should I do? It’s Kieran.”

“You’re safe with him—you are. But only because your memories are nonexistent. The fewer memories you have, the more you’re able to move around freely.”

No one’s going to suspect a woman with lost memories.

“Open the door; don’t let him suspect you’re onto anything. A demon always needs to feel he’s in control.”

Cycling a deep breath, I trudge into the bedroom and quickly tug a warm dress over my frame. I already know Daisy will disappear so I open the door. Kieran—the liar and probable murderer—stands on the other side, his hand resting against the door frame, slight annoyance visible. It morphs into a polite smile once he sees me. A slap across his face might make me feel better about what just happened in the bath. I keep my hands to my side though.

“I heard you speaking, just wanted to check on you before going down for breakfast,” he murmurs.

The devilish good looks that had lulled me into safety, turns to heavy weights in my stomach.

“I found that talking to myself helps me process what’s happening to me.” My reply is curt.

Daisy had seemed afraid of him but didn’t want to provoke him. I stand straighter, meeting his steady stare.

“Why don’t you come down for breakfast today? Dr. Marlowe is here with the Sheriff.” There’s an unsettling edge to his words.

“Is he here to question me?” Keeping the suspicion from my tone is easy.

“Yeah, I told you we’d allow him to come.” Kieran bares teeth with a cruel smile.

A ruse. He hasn’t told you where he’s been.

“Let me get fully dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs. I had some horrible nightmares last night and need to shake them off.” My fingers twitch again; I should have my knife handy.