Jessup sighed. She looked at her partner. “Would you mind seeing if you could find some ginger ale? Something sugary to make sure that Reg isn’t going to faint on me here.”
“I’m fine,” Reg repeated.
Devaughn nodded to acknowledge his partner’s request and retreated through the door that led to the hallway and the elevator. It would take him a few minutes to get up to the nearest vending machine or corner store and back again. Jessup spoke in a low, urgent tone. “What did you see, Reg? What can you tell me about what the ghost said? I could only hear what you were saying, and that wasn’t particularly enlightening.”
“He didn’t know what he was talking about. I don’t think he had any idea who killed him or why. It was probably just an accident. People who handle snakes… They all end up getting bitten sooner or later.”
Jessup gave Reg a puzzled look. “What did he say about a basilisk?”
“He didn’t know anything about it.”
“He’s the one who brought it up; you said you didn’t know what it was.”
“It’s a kind of snake. Very rare.”
“I know what a basilisk is. What does it have to do with this case?”
“Nothing at all. It was misdirection.”
“Reg. What are you hiding from me? What’s going on?”
“I’ve done everything you asked me to do, but I can’t help you like you hoped. Sorry.”
They looked at each other, Jessup’s eyes pleading for more. Reg could feel her frustration over the way things had ended up. She had figured that there was at least a shot that Reg would be able to get some vital information out of the ghost. The troll had to know how he had died, didn’t he? But Reg’s non-cooperation or lack of results stymied her. Which was fine because Reg didn’t actually want Jessup to make any progress on the case. Dead guy in the cemetery. Bitten by a snake. The end. Nothing further to investigate.
Reg didn’t know what Jessup could see when she looked into her eyes. Could she see the difference in her witness between the time she had entered the morgue and the time she broke off contact with the ghost? Or were the cop’s gifts so weak that she couldn’t even guess at what was happening?
Devaughn returned with a soft drink. He handed it to the woman, who popped the tab and handed it over to Reg. “It would make me feel a lot better if you could get some of that down. I don’t want you to be sick or to have an accident driving home.”
Reg sipped at the cloyingly sweet drink, holding her breath so that she didn’t have to taste it. She’d had so many soft drinks when she had been in the Everglades that she never wanted to drink another one again. What vile stuff. Highway robbery to even charge anything for the sickly sweet, flavored water. Bubbles didn’t make it any more appealing.
It was some time before Jessup agreed to let Reg go on her way. She had done her best to keep Reg there under the guise of being worried that she was too sick to drive but, eventually, she had to give up on that and let her go anyway. She could follow in her own car if she were that worried about it. See that Reg got home safely. But she didn’t. She had reports to file, even if she hadn’t found out what she wanted to.
When Reg reached home, there was a white compact car parked in front of the house. Someone visiting Sarah? She reached out with her powers. They were a little unwieldy; Reg wasn’t familiar enough with how her mind worked to handle them dexterously, but she managed to figure it out. The visitor had not gone into the house, but was somewhere close by. Waiting. Reg got out of the car and looked around warily. She didn’t want anyone ambushing her.
She was warm and the air seemed thick and sweet and scented with flowers.
Nothing but a warm spring day. Just perceived through someone else’s senses.
But as Reg took the pathway toward the back yard, she saw a male form waiting in the shadow of a tree. She stopped abruptly, raising her hand to cast a protection spell before he could get the drop on her. The man stepped forward, smiling, his manner reassuring.
“Regina,” he crooned, “it’s just me.”
He was one of the men who had accompanied Reg when she was in the Everglades. One of the men who had helped remove Wilson from that place and bring him to Black Sands for the Spring Games. But he had not been there when Wilson had reawakened. She fished for the name. They knew each other well; it wouldn’t do to get the name wrong. Corwin? Corvid?
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I’m concerned about you, Regina. The way you’ve been behaving for the last few days. Your… lapses. I can feel shifts in your consciousness, back and forth. At first, I thought I just imagined it.” He took a step toward her, smiling reassuringly, the scent of roses growing stronger. Someone should tell the guy he was using way too much cologne. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Stay back,” Reg ordered, feeling a wave of warmth and giddiness as he got closer. She strengthened the protection spell she had started to build, trying to protect herself from his influence. But he was powerful.
Where had he gotten so much power? As a seeker of power herself, Reg was interested in the answer to that question. Most witches found it difficult to add to their powers. They exercised the gifts they already had, learned, and practiced in their areas, but they rarely built more power.
“Reg. What’s going on?” He leaned forward.
Corvin. The name came to her suddenly. Corvin the Hunter. And he was on the hunt, but pretending to be concerned with Reg’s well-being. A power-drinker. He was trying to get inside of Reg’s mind to figure out what was going on, and that couldn’t be allowed.
“Get out, witch!” Reg pushed back, the force of her mental power so strong that Corvin went stumbling several steps backward before catching himself and looking at her in surprise.
His eyes were dark and piercing, staring into her eyes. “You are not Regina.”
Chapter Forty-One
Reg flashed him a confused smile. “What do you mean I’m not Regina? I’m standing right here in front of you; you can see that.”
“I can see the form you’ve taken. But you are not her.”
“I am.”
Corvin reached out to take Reg’s hand. She pulled back. Touching would give him a stronger connection to her. He was already too close to the truth.
“If it’s you, you’ll let me touch you, verify it.”
“No. Nice try. I know what you are, and I do not consent to your terms.”
Corvin cocked an eyebrow. He looked slightly amused at this. “You know what I am.”
“Yes.”
“You have known that for a long time. It isn’t something new.”
Reg shrugged. “Nevertheless. You will not take my powers.”
“You are not Regina,” he repeated.
“Stop saying that. You can see who I am. Now get off my property, or I’ll call the police.”
“This is not your property.”
Reg looked around her. “Yes, it is.”
“It belongs to Sarah.”
“It does not belong to you. I live here, and I’m telling you that you’re trespassing. So go away.”
He didn’t move. “Who are you going to call? Jessup?”
Reg’s lips tightened. “I don’t need Jessup. I can just call 9-1-1. They’ll remove you from the property.”
“Go ahead.” He leaned forward again, smiling wolfishly.
Reg considered her options. The police would come. They would remove Corvin from the property. But what effect would that have on her? She would have to deal with the police again. What if Corvin decided to tell them that Regina was not really Regina? He wouldn’t be able to prove it, of course; everything that the police could see and measure would tell them that she was Reg Rawlins. But did she want that complication on top of everything else she had to deal with that day?
“Just go away and then I won’t have to,” she told him.
Reg eyed the gate. Once she got past there, she was pretty sure that he would be barred
by the protective wards from following her to the door of her cottage. She would be safe. She stepped toward the gate. Just a few steps and she would be safe.
“Come on, Reg,” Corvin coaxed. “We’re partners. Working together again, just like in the Everglades. Just like in the dwarf mountain.”
It was clearly a test, but Reg was at a loss as to how to respond to it. Had they been partners on those ventures, and she should agree and would feel warmly toward him for those occasions? Or was it something that she was supposed to argue with because he would know that she was lying if she agreed?
“That’s not the way I remember it,” she tried, hazarding a guess.
His eyes were calm, studious. “I helped you when you fought Weston. When we all fought the Witch Doctor. Are you forgetting that? Everything we’ve been through together?”
Reg made a dash for the gate. Corvin moved lightning fast to grab her arm, which had the dual effects of stopping her from being able to make an escape and making the two of them practically light up like a Christmas tree when skin met skin. The electrical shock sent Reg reeling. Corvin looked similarly surprised and stunned.
“See? It is me,” Reg said, inching toward the gate. “Or that wouldn’t have happened.”
He was still holding on to her, despite the current of electricity that ran between them. Corvin was still trying to keep eye contact with her and to force his way into her mind.
“Who are you?” he demanded, voice low and forceful.
“You know who I am.”
“How did you get possession of Reg’s body? What kind of sorcery is this? Are you a ghost? A demon?”
“Let me go.”
“No. I’m not letting go. I am holding on to you, and you have to answer me.”
“I have her powers. Do you know how strong she is?”
“Do you know how strong I am?”
That gave Reg pause. She could tell he was powerful. But he couldn’t force his will upon her. Or he hadn’t yet, if he had that ability.
“Not strong enough,” she speculated.
“Oh, no?” He tightened his grip on her arm, the power buzzing between them. “Do you really want to make this a battle of wills?”
“Are you willing to risk her body?”
There was a slight hesitance on his part, a withdrawal of his force. So there was more between them than just his desire for her gifts. He cared something about her as a person as well. Enough that he didn’t want to risk hurting her.
“What are you?”
“Just a human. Like you.”
“No. You couldn’t possess her like this as a human. What else?”
She looked around, waiting for something to happen to distract Corvin. Or she could cause a distraction. Anything from a bird flying past him close enough to startle him to a car accident on the street beside them.
Or she could pretend this had all been planned and pull him in further by pretending to cooperate.
“You could have her,” Reg suggested. “We could make a deal and I could leave her in your hands. You could take her powers. It wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t know what had happened.”
Corvin’s eyes glinted as he considered the idea. So much for his caring about Reg as a person. The first hint that he could get what he had been after all along, and he was ready to take it.
“Come into the cottage. We’ll talk there.”
Reg took a step toward the back. Corvin followed, still holding her arm. She took another step, sliding through the open gate that divided the front yard from the back. Corvin followed behind her. He wasn’t barred from the back yard. Reg looked around, worried. How could it be, with all the wards Reg had set up? She wouldn’t have let this creature past the protective wards.
Corvin kept walking, not giving Reg time to think. She was struggling to remain present. The other soul was trying to reassert itself. Corvin kept pushing or dragging her along. At the door, she stopped again, knowing that he would not be allowed inside. She opened her purse to look for her key, but as she did, she heard the click of the lock and then the doorknob turned. The door swung silently open.
“You can’t do that,” Reg snarled. “You cannot enter without a key! The protections!”
He stepped through the door with her. She had been sure he would be left behind, unable to enter.
“I don’t need a key. I have an invitation.”
“No! The wards. The protections. You cannot enter here.”
“Reg would have known better than to invite me in.”
“This is my home. There are rules. If you don’t want to be judged, you must obey them!”
“I’ve stood trial before. I’m willing to take my chances.”
One hand still holding her arm so tightly that her fingers were tingling with loss of circulation, Corvin raised the other to touch her face. Too close. Too intimate a connection. Reg smelled the flowers, felt the cloying sweetness overwhelming her.
He would drain her powers. He would take them all. But Reg could no longer fight him. She no longer wanted to. She wanted him to pull her into an embrace. To complete the merging of their spirits, making her whole at last.
Chapter Forty-Two
Reg’s head spun. She tried to make her way through the layers of confusion and protective spells to reach the surface. It was a long way and took a lot of effort, and she wasn’t sure whether it was worth it. She stopped to rest and gather her strength, then tried again. Then, like breaking through a thick membrane, she was out of the water and into the air, able to breathe again.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “Breathe. Take a minute. Are you okay? Reg?”
Despite telling her to take a break and rest, he was demanding immediate answers. Reg tried to compose an answer, but she wasn’t sure where she was or what she was doing, so how could she know if she were okay or not?
“He’s gone,” Corvin said. “But I don’t know how long. I’m sure it won’t take him long to get his strength back and make another attempt. He’s very strong.”
“Who?” Reg kept her eyes closed, not wanting any outside stimuli. It was like she had a migraine or fever and any extra light or sound hurt her brain.
“Do you know who it was? Who it is that keeps taking over your body?”
“Taking over my…? What?” Reg tried to push his hands away, but he held on to her, which was probably a good thing, because she wasn’t sure whether her legs were solid or jelly and if they could hold her up without help.
“The spirit taking over your body? Who was it?”
“Was it Nagendra?”
“Who is Nagendra?”
“The troll.”
“No, I don’t think so. You don’t know who it is?”
Reg was starting to remember the conversation in the morgue with Nagendra’s ghost. You are the vessel. He was not pure.
“No… he has… my blood. But I don’t know how.”
“Your blood. This was accomplished with a blood spell?”
Reg nodded, her head heavy. “Yes. But… I don’t know how.”
“Did you give him your blood willingly?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Reg.” He gave her a little shake. “Regina. Please open your eyes and look at me. This will be much easier if I can see you.”
Reg tried to pry her tired eyes open. Was she still asleep? Was that why it was so hard to come to the surface? She’d had dreams like that before. Where she knew she was asleep but couldn’t pry off the levels of sleep to bring herself out of it.
Finally, she managed to get them open a crack. She squinted and saw that she was in her cottage. Not at the morgue anymore. And the man with her was Corvin.
Corvin. In her house.
“No! No, you can’t be here,” she told him, trying to push him away from her. “Get out. Leave this place and don’t bother me again.”
He wasn’t just in the cottage. His arms were around her, holding her close. The smell of roses w
as overpowering. She didn’t know how she had allowed herself to be ensorcelled by him again.
“No!”
“It’s okay, Reg. I had to. To get him out. I couldn’t think of any other way. His hold on you was very strong.”
“Who?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. Why didn’t you tell me the rest of the details? How you were missing time? How many times has he taken over?”
“I don’t know. What happened? How did you… get me free?”
“I drained as much of his powers as I could. Eventually, he fled. Can you tell me who it was? Where he would go?”
Reg closed her eyes again, concentrating on the questions. She started to drift again, and Corvin gave her another shake to keep her awake.
“The cemetery. That’s where he was before.”
“Okay. Can you walk? Let’s go to the cemetery.”
“Don’t want to walk to the cemetery.” Reg sagged in his arms, just thinking how much energy that would take.
“No. I just meant walk to the car. From here to the front of the house.”
Reg blinked a few times to remind herself where she was and pondered the distance to the front sidewalk. She didn’t have much strength.
Corvin turned her and started her walking toward the door, still holding on to her. Like dancing or a three-legged race, trying to move naturally when they were pasted together.
Starlight was there, barring the door, hissing and yowling at Corvin for holding Reg or trying to take her out of the cottage. Corvin tried to negotiate with the cat or get past him.
“Cat, get out of there. I’m helping her. Get out of my way. Cat!”
“He has a name,” Reg murmured.
“I’m not treating him like a person.”
“He’s more than a person.” Reg hadn’t told him about what she had discovered about Starlight, but he should have known. He was the one who had studied about creatures and immortality and mythology. With everything that he knew, he should have known that Starlight was more than a cat. Corvin could at least call him by the name he had chosen. “Starlight. It’s okay,” she told him, blinking sleepily and slipping down in Corvin’s arms for a minute. “We’re just going out. He’s going to help.”
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