He wears a black T-shirt that hangs off him like it’s several sizes too large, and there’s a curious text printed across the front that reads: They’re watching you. Who’s watching them?
Oddly enough, the woman wears the exact same shirt. Hers, however, is several sizes too small, and it clings in a way that’s not entirely flattering. For a moment, I wonder if they each grabbed the wrong one out of the closet and ended up swapping on accident.
The rest of her outfit is made up of black combat boots and a pleated gray skirt with a chain hanging from the front. Her dark brown hair parts in the middle and falls down her back, straight and fine. Some women would kill for her hair, but she simply lets it hang.
They’re quite the pair, but their somewhat odd appearance doesn’t bother me. What has me raising my eyebrows is the bizarre arsenal of radios, cameras, and other odd electronic devices they have strapped to their bodies.
“Oh, Olivia,” Rodger says when he spots his daughter standing with Jonathan and me. “Come over and meet Clarissa and Joel.”
The man holds up his hand. “Actually, the ‘J’ is soft.”
“J-oel?” Rodger asks, softening the “J” to make an almost “sh” sound, looking somewhat stumped.
Joel nods, obviously used to correcting people.
“Right,” Rodger says slowly before he turns back to his daughter. “Meet Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.”
Jonathan and I exchange a look and casually follow Olivia over to the group.
“You’re the ghost hunters?” Olivia asks, just as skeptical of the pair as I.
Ghost hunters.
Like…ghost hunters?
Jonathan makes a noise of amusement, but he somehow manages to choke the rest of the laugh back.
Clarissa nods, her face solemn. “Yes, but we prefer the term ‘seekers.’”
“Seekers?” Elizabeth asks, clearly not a fan of the pair. Something tells me the lady of the house didn’t request their presence.
“As in seekers of the supernatural realm,” Joel calmly explains. “We carry a variety of tools, including a full spectrum video camera, night vision light, high tech digital thermometer, audio recorder, and several devices of our own making.”
I want to ask if they also have backpacks to suck up pesky poltergeists, but I resist the urge.
“They come highly recommended,” Rodger says, his eyes flicking over Jonathan and me.
By who? Is there a Home Advisor for paranormal services?
Clarissa takes something that looks like a handheld radio from her belt, extends a long antenna, and then turns the device on. It crackles to life, letting out a low hum.
“Interesting,” she murmurs, taking a step forward. “It seems it’s picking up something already.”
As she moves, the hum grows louder. She frowns, continuing forward until the radio is in a positive tizzy—and it just so happens to be pointing right at my chest. She looks up, baffled. “That’s odd.”
“Well, darling,” Jonathan says lightly, “it looks like you’re a ghost.”
Clarissa scowls at the device, smacks it several times, and then points it at Jonathan. Still, it hums.
“What’s it doing?” she finally asks Joel.
“Perhaps there was supernatural activity here last night? It’s likely picking up residual signs.”
The woman’s face smooths, and she nods like that’s the most logical answer ever. “Must be a strong ghost. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it get quite that loud.”
Joel nods and turns to Rodger. “It’s wise you’ve brought us in. We might be dealing with a Class Five poltergeist—maybe even a Class Six.”
I exchange a look with Jonathan, wondering why in the world their piece of junk equipment would pick up on what I can only assume is our magic. Surely the humans haven’t constructed something that only Griffons can detect?
“The house is yours to wander,” Rodger says, looking impressed while both his wife and daughter continue to wear skeptical frowns. “If you need in any of the guest rooms, please inform us, and we’ll set up a time.”
Jonathan and I excuse ourselves as they finish their conversation, and I turn back to him as soon as we’re in our room. “What was that?”
He grins. “I don’t know, but I’m getting the strangest feeling that we’re not quite human.”
I roll my eyes. “We should tell Gray.”
“I think he already knows.”
“About the ghost hunters.”
Jonathan walks to the bed and stares at Charles, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s going to pet him. “Do you think they’re going to get in the way?”
“I guarantee they’re going to get in the way.”
When he lowers his hand to the cat’s head, Charles backs away, tail flicking, looking miffed.
“Maybe they’ll be just the distraction we need,” Jonathan says after a moment, shaking his head at the prickly cat. “Let our succubus be suspicious of them and not us.”
“Succubus?”
“A female sprite who feeds on lust.”
I cross my arms, thinking too hard. “That’s awful. Those don’t actually exist, do they?”
He gives me an incredulous look. “Just how sheltered have you been exactly? Did you learn anything at Briarwood?”
“I know how to properly fold towels, make an exceptional cup of coffee, and set a table for any sort of dinner situation.”
“Did you learn anything useful?” His mouth stretches into a grin, and his chocolatey eyes light with pure amusement. “Specifically things that will keep you alive in our business?”
“No.” I match his grin. “Not really.” Then my face falls. “Is that what you think our murderer is? A sprite?”
“No, there hasn’t been a succubus spotted for hundreds of years. As far as I know, they’re extinct on our side of the thresholds.”
Something chills me, and though I don’t want to say it out loud…I don’t think I have a choice.
“Jonathan, when you say sprite, you mean an actual sprite, right?” I look down. “Not like a shadow creature?”
“No,” his voice softens. “Not one of the nightmare beasts. An actual sprite.”
I look up, biting my bottom lip as I nod. His words are a relief, but I still worry that something larger than I realized happened when I commanded the gargoyles that night by the shore.
Strange things are emerging from the shadows, and I can’t help but think it’s my fault.
CHAPTER TEN
At dinner, it seems no one can speak of anything but John Callahan’s disappearance and the strange new “seekers of the supernatural” who showed up most curiously this afternoon.
I walk in with Jonathan, adjusting the whisper-thin diamond and emerald belt I wear over my forest green gown. It’s ostentatious, not something I have many opportunities to wear at home, and I’m glad I packed it on a whim.
Dinner doesn’t start for a few more minutes, so we’re loitering in the dining room, and small clusters of people stand here and there, talking quietly amongst themselves. As soon as Misty spots Jonathan and me, she waves us over. She looks uncomfortable surrounded by the Wall Street types—or maybe just bored.
Phillip appears to be in the middle of a story, and he has the circle’s rapt attention. Olivia stands in the group, engrossed in whatever it is that has Misty bored to tears.
As I make my way to her, Rafe catches my eye. His expression is dark and obviously displeased.
But there’s no time to dwell on my knight because Misty breaks away from Phillip to join me. Jonathan is apprehended by a man from Vermont who wants to talk oil, and he nods me along, wordlessly telling me to go ahead.
“That dress,” Misty says, admiring my outfit. “And what a belt. You look fabulous.”
I pull my eyes away from Rafe.
Before I can respond, she says, “You didn’t come to the hot springs.”
“We slept in and then decided to tour the estate instead.”
<
br /> She flashes me a look of sympathy. “You would have loved it. The water was sublime, and we had the whole place to ourselves. I feel so relaxed, I swear I could fall asleep right here on the floor.”
As we’re talking, Clarissa and Joel walk into the dining hall, wearing outfits straight out of an Addams Family movie. Clarissa holds her tracking wand in the air, making me wary.
“What do you think of those two?” Misty whispers.
“We were here when they first showed up,” I say quietly. “I don’t think Mrs. Monroe or Olivia are too impressed.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
I look back at her, my interest piqued.
“I’d love to get my hands on their equipment.” She laughs softly, almost embarrassed. “Can you imagine? Skulking around the mansion at night, searching for ghosts?”
I can imagine it, but honestly, it sounds awful.
“Evening, ladies,” Will, the undercover cop, says as he walks our way. His wife is on the other side of the room, speaking with Elizabeth.
Misty’s cheeks go pink, and she stands a little straighter. “Hello, Will.”
He’s handsome, I suppose, but considering I have no lack of handsome men in my life, and he’s a little old for my tastes, he doesn’t do anything for me.
Still, it looks like Misty’s reaction pleases him.
“I don’t think we’ve formally met,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Will Tillman.”
“Madeline Kingman,” I answer.
I don’t stumble over Jonathan’s last name, though my stomach warms as I say it.
Instead of shaking my hand, he brings it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Kingman.”
Though I have a strong urge to yank my hand away, I wait until he drops it. Then I lower my voice so only he and Misty will hear. “You sat close to John at dinner last night. What do you make of his disappearance?”
I almost use persuasion on him, but I decide against it. The last thing I need is to blow up Clarissa and Joel’s ghost detecting device.
Will shakes his head. “It’s hard to say. Hopefully he’ll show up soon.”
“Did his wife leave the mansion?” Misty asks.
“I believe so.” Will then steps away from us, and his eyes linger on me as he walks away. “It’s a reminder to all of us to be careful.”
“There’s a phone call for you, madam,” a dark voice says behind me.
We turn, and Misty widens her eyes, not prepared for the sight of my dark knight standing behind us, looking entirely too tempting in his waiter’s attire.
“A phone call?” I ask, glancing at Misty.
Rafe watches me with a cool, indifferent expression that I know is anything but. “Yes, on the landline. Perhaps you’ve forgotten your cell phone, and someone wishes to reach you?”
Ah.
Yes, that explains it.
I nod, silently telling him to lead me away. “I’ll be back,” I promise Misty. “If you see Jonathan, will you let him know I had to take a call?”
“Of course.” Her eyes wander back to Rafe, looking suspicious—but in the most delighted way. “Just…take your time.”
I follow Rafe into the hall. “You do realize, don’t you, that she now thinks I’m going to have a tryst with a waiter in some dark closet?”
“Where’s your phone, Lexie?”
At least if he’s using my unwanted nickname, he’s not too upset.
“I forgot it, all right?” I set my hands on my hips, challenging him. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.” He cocks his head to the side, challenging me right back. “I just wanted to see if you have it. And, surprise, surprise—you don’t.”
“You are slightly infuriating; do you realize that?”
He takes a step in, his dark blue eyes never leaving mine. “You are slightly infuriating; do you realize that?”
We’re close, probably too close, but this darn magic just keeps pulling us together.
“All I ask is for you to carry your phone.” The knight takes another step in, which brings us together. His chest presses against mine, the smell of his dark aftershave filling my senses. “Do you really think that’s too much to ask?”
I’m just debating whether I'm going to set my hands on his shoulders when voices drift to us from just around the corner. Immediately, I step back…only to realize my belt is caught.
“Rafe!” I hiss, looking down. The clasp has snagged on his shirt.
Without the slightest hesitation, he presses a hand against my back, pulling me flush against him, and pushes us through the closest door—which just so happens to be a storage closet.
The knight swings the door shut just as the voices turn the corner and then stop in front of our door.
It’s a tight space, filled to the brim with plastic storage totes and shelving. I cling to Rafe because there’s nowhere else for me to go.
“Could you have picked a more cliché hiding spot?” I whisper so the people on the other side won’t overhear.
“I thought girls liked closets.” The low words rumble in my ear. Our magic’s pull seems stronger in the dark, when sight is gone and other senses are heightened.
Entirely without my permission, my hands slide up his chest—and it’s not because I want to feel his muscles flex under my touch. No. I’m merely trying to get a better grip so I don’t fall on my tail.
But then his muscles do flex, and he sucks in a hiss that lights a fire in my core. Before I know it, my hands are roving up his shoulders and then back down again, trailing to his sides, which are like solid rock under his shirt.
The Knights’ Guild certainly knows how to sculpt them.
“Stop,” he commands under his breath, every inch of him rigid with control. There’s a torrent of persuasion in the word, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his hands move to my sides, his fingers splaying to touch more of me at once.
“You stop,” I whisper, my voice breathy in the dark.
“Madeline,” he growls, his fingers tightening over the silky material of my evening dress. “Why do you continually test me? Believe me when I tell you that if we’re not careful, our magic will link.”
I’ve heard of magic links before, but I’ve never thought much about them. They’re brought on by a strong connection, and they can’t be severed. They’re rare; I know that much. Usually, it’s a conscious decision, something you must do to make the connection happen.
But in our case, with our magic begging to merge, I can see how it might happen by accident.
“And that’s bad?” I murmur, past confused.
Why is our magic doing this?
“Of course it’s bad,” he growls. Then, as if losing the will to fight, he drops his face to the crook of my shoulder, making me nearly self-combust. I wait for him to kiss me, to brush his lips against my skin, to do something, but he never moves.
After a long minute, he pulls back. “They’re gone.”
I gape at him in the dark.
“Come on.” He opens the door, pulls me into the empty hall, and deftly disentangles my belt from his shirt. “It’s clear.”
Every inch of me tingles, and my pulse continues to race. I stare at him for several moments, until my breathing slowly calms, and my heart resumes a normal pace. “I suppose it’s a good thing you have more willpower than I do.”
I turn to leave, but Rafe catches my arm before I get too far, pulling me back. “Don’t give me too much credit.” There’s a white-hot spark in his eyes, something that mimics the one deep in my chest. “It’s dark enough in the hall I could have cloaked us if I’d wanted to. We didn’t need to hide in the closet—I chose to.”
With that, he releases me and turns on his heel, heading away from the dining room.
I stare after him, off-kilter. As soon as he’s gone, my magic calms and reason returns.
What was that?
The magic is making me crazy.
Shaking my head, I make my way back i
nto the dining room. Jonathan’s in the same seat as yesterday, looking edgy.
Right next to him, in my seat, sits Olivia. She leans into him, laughing softly, the vision of a Hollywood starlet in her sleek green gown. Her hair falls down her back in a soft cascade of blond.
I pause, startled to find them together. The part of me that’s here for the job thinks I should hang back, let this play out. The part that’s Jonathan’s friend says not to trust her—to keep her away from him at all costs—because sweet, man-slut Jonathan won’t be able to resist whisking her to bed, and I’d rather he not end up dead.
So I hover near the entrance, unsure what to do.
Olivia ever-so-subtly brushes her hand over Jonathan’s. He winces but doesn’t move. I recognize the look in his eyes, the way he processes her thoughts. What does he see?
“You look a little lost,” Will says from behind me, pocketing a phone like he’s just returning from a call he had to take—maybe his was a real one.
The cop smiles, his eyes wandering over me but not in a lascivious way—or at least, not too lascivious.
I force a light laugh and press a hand to my temples. “I’m feeling a little lightheaded from the champagne. I shouldn’t have had any on an empty stomach.”
“I’d be happy to escort you to your seat.” He glances at Olivia. “But it looks like it’s already taken. My wife just retired with a headache. Perhaps you’d like to sit with me?”
The offer startles me, and so does the connotation behind it.
“Oh…I…”
Before I can finish, Jonathan glances at the door. He relaxes when he sees me, but there are questions in his eyes.
“I think I can make it all right,” I say to Will, and then I head toward my occupied seat.
Olivia follows Jonathan’s gaze and frowns when she sees me coming. Her displeasure is quickly hidden, and she sweeps out of the seat, giving me a welcoming smile. “You look lovely, Madeline.” Then she laughs lightly and leans in. “I love your dress.”
Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2) Page 9