Ethereal Ties

by Elara Skye

  “Not for no reason,” she asserted. “It’ll probably stay that way.”

  Patrick sighed. “Really? I wish you wouldn’t be like that.”

  Amelia gritted her teeth—the nerve of this man. “What do you want, Patrick?”

  “Well, I just saw you sitting here, thought I’d say something. You should call your dad, too. He’s not doing so hot.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Call him, find out for yourself.”

  A pang of annoyance shot through her. “Or you can tell me right now.”

  Patrick sighed. “He’s just not getting any younger, Amelia.”

  “Not getting any younger?” This conversation had her heart racing against her chest. “Yeah, well, neither am I. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with this.”

  He frowned. “Deal with what? There’s no need to get hostile.”

  Amelia’s glare hardened. “Oh, come on. You know I have every reason to be hostile.”

  “Still?” Patrick glowered back at her. “Everyone’s moved on, Amelia.”

  “So have I. I just have no interest in having this conversation with you. If I did, I would’ve called.”

  “Well, it sounds like you still have some growing up to do before that conversation would be productive.”

  Yeah. I’ll grow up when Daniel owns up to what he did. Think that’ll happen any time soon?

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she snapped. “Patrick, how exactly did you think this was going to go? Approaching me like this—did you seriously think I’d pull up a chair and buy you coffee? Gab about my love life with you?”

  “I thought you’d be professional with—”

  “Professional?” she scoffed. “I’m not interested in being whatever the hell that means in your world.” People were starting to stare.

  “Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to burn your bridges?”

  “My dad taught me to stand my ground,” she quipped. “I learned from the master, don’t you think?”

  “Wow.” Patrick shook his head slowly. “I just don’t know what they’re going to do with you. You’re such a disappointment.”

  She furrowed a brow at the phrasing. “Who’s ‘they?’”

  “I’ll be sure to let Daniel know you said hello,” he droned as he turned away, not answering the question. “Goodbye.”

  Amelia’s heart pounded as she sat back against the chair, her chest heaving angrily as she fisted her hands. The wind felt sharper, making them extra pale and veiny as rested them atop her book, taking several deep breaths to calm down. Her phone buzzed again, distracting her momentarily—another text from Finn. It grabbed her attention, but not for long. It was getting late in the day, and she needed to head off to work.

  And, as expected, the foul mood followed her every step of the way. Nor did it subside once her shift began. Thankfully, Amelia knew it wasn’t going to be a busy night—being in the middle of the week—but that didn’t stop her from feeling stretched like a rubber band. She’d been training their new hire, Jesse, for upwards of four hours—the task required way more bandwidth than she had on hand, but at least Cat was there to mediate the tension.

  “Why was he here to begin with?” she asked, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he tried to talk to you like that. That’s just unreal.”

  Amelia glanced at Jesse over her shoulder—the only other person on the floor who might overhear—as he took inventory of the shelves. He was doing well so far and was the easiest of all the new hires to train. As the doors behind her opened and closed, Jesse immediately jumped to attention, smiling at Amelia as he walked by.

  She waited until he was gone, then replied, “Patrick said he was on a business trip.”

  “Maybe your dad’s been talking about you a lot. What do you think he meant about him not feeling well?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt he’s been talking about me, though. He doesn’t do ‘personal’ chit-chat—he didn’t even talk to my mom that much.”

  Amelia didn’t know anyone as close to her father as she was. That was saying something, considering the turbulent nature of their relationship. He was not a loving man, so it took a herculean effort to make him show that he cared in the worst of times. On a subconscious level, treachery was always brewing on the back burner in both their minds. They merely had to wait until the tide turned on the other—which it did, in the end.

  “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

  “Not since I left.”

  Cat’s eyes always widened at that, no matter how many times she heard it. “Well, maybe something really bad is going on? Like, life or death bad?”

  “Patrick said my dad ‘wasn’t getting any younger,’ but it wouldn’t surprise me if he just said that to get me to talk to him again.”

  Cat shrugged. “Maybe you should.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s been three years, Cat. He hasn’t tried to reach out to me once, which means nothing’s changed. If I thought talking to him would amount to something, I’d have done it by now.”

  She watched as her roommate eyed her intently. “Would you be sad if he died?”

  “He’s not dying.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excuse me?” Jesse popped up beside her, holding a receipt. “Sorry, can you show me how to split up these drinks?”

  “Sure.” Amelia smiled weakly as she took the receipt, looking it over as they approached the register.

  “Okay, so, log in,” she pointed to the button on the screen, “and show me how you open separate tabs for these drinks.”

  Jesse hovered over the wrong tab. “Here, right?”

  “Nope, it’s right here.” She tapped on the correct one. “Okay, now show me where you’d go for a credit card payment.”

  “Uh...”

  A second voice interjected, “Amelia?”

  Her eyes flitted up from the screen, and she turned slowly. Each time a disembodied voice called out to her today, it just didn’t end well—and it didn’t seem to be getting any better as she pinned a name to the suited-up patron.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, drifting toward the counter, where he sat. “Julian, right?”

  “That’s right.” He flashed her a bright, charming smile—she remembered it well from New Year’s Eve. Except, he had a friend with him this time; it was a woman, clad in the same professional attire, curling her lips back into a humorless smile. “I completely forgot that you work here. I guess Jack’s not in, huh?”

  “Not today,” Amelia answered, hardly in the mood for niceties. “I haven’t seen you since New Year’s Eve—what happened? You dipped out without saying anything.”

  “Right,” he mused. “Sorry about that. I, uh, had a personal emergency. Brit, this is the girl I was supposed to bring by that night.”

  “Ah.” Brit was hardly amused by the notion. “Cool. Get me your wheat beer on tap.”

  Amelia’s brows shot up—and in the corner of her eye, so did Cat’s.

  Julian regarded his ‘friend’ with the same reaction, scoffing as he gestured to Amelia. “Sorry, go ahead and make that two. Someone needs it bad, if you can’t tell.”

  Slightly annoyed, Amelia pushed off the corner she was leaning against, producing their drinks within moments. “Here you go,” she said as she set them down, the glasses clinking over their conversation.

  “And as long as Raymer’s in town for the conference, then—oh, thanks, Amelia.”

  Her hands froze as she pulled back, eyes narrowed with interest. “Sorry, did I just hear you say ‘Raymer?’”

  “Yeah, you did. Why?”

  “Raymer, as in Patrick Raymer?”

  Julian arched a brow. “Do you know him?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, he’s like my boss’s boss.”

  “You work for him?

  “Just over six months. He came to our office for a
conference this week,” Julian answered, redirecting to Brit. “And it’s supposed to be his last one, I heard it might be his kid next time.”

  Brit looked unamused as she sipped her drink. “That guy from a few weeks ago?”

  The conversation went on without her, but Amelia remained rooted in place, combing through every word to make sure she heard it right.

  Julian answered, “Yeah, I heard they just wrapped up that legal battle. Hart’s kid isn’t getting jack shit, for blackmail and extortion.”

  “Wow, crazy,” Brit nodded, looking painfully bored.

  Meanwhile, Amelia clutched the counter, feeling her blood drain from her cheeks and limbs. “What’d you say?”

  Julian looked at her. “What?”

  Blackmail.

  Extortion.

  Amelia straightened up from the counter, her hands shaking as she clenched them tightly. She stared at Julian for a moment, unsure of whether to believe this was actually happening. “Is this a joke? Did Raymer put you up to this?”

  “Hey, you look a little tense,” he remarked, regarding her concernedly—though she could’ve sworn she saw his lip quirk upward. “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not,” she gritted out.

  “Woah, calm down,” he said, holding both hands up. “What just happened?”

  Amelia scoffed, pushing off the counter. “Pass that on to your boss, too.”

  She stormed into the back room. It took everything to keep her rage under control, but her hands still trembled, and she couldn’t stop the wetness that rose to her eyes—still trying to come to grips with what she just heard. She paced back and forth in the back room, growing drunk with anger the longer she thought about it.

  Was it even possible?

  She scoffed as she thought of her father. Of course, it was possible. If they needed an explanation for why she abandoned the inheritance—one that would conceal the truth and counteract others’ knowledge and rumors of what really happened—they could easily smear her. Penniless and powerless, Amelia was an easy target.

  Her head was swimming when she finally made for the coat rack, resolved to leave. Cat followed after her, calling out to her, but nothing registered in Amelia’s mind as she left the bar in a fury, stalking down the street to her car. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Amelia slammed the door shut—knocking them loose—and drove back home.

  For the entirety of the thirty-minute drive, she clenched her teeth and debated whether it was finally time to call her father. Which may have been the anger talking, but she didn’t care. Perhaps she would call and scream at him the moment she got home, the moment she slammed the door behind her, and—

  The train of thought came to a crashing stop.

  Her mental slate was suddenly wiped clean as she stared at the open door of their home, slowly bringing the car to a stop. It was nighttime, and a cold wind lifted the hair off her back as she crawled out of the vehicle.

  For a moment, she merely stared at the dark, broken threshold of their home.

  Her hands shook, but it was no longer out of anger. Amelia drifted around the car and up the frosted walkway, all the way to the front door. Chaos lit up in her living room as she flicked on the light, her keys falling from her hand the moment she saw it: their bookshelves were turned over, couches pulled apart, and objects were strewn across the floor. Even their kitchen was in disarray.

  Nyxie.

  “Oh my God,” she choked out, her voice trembling. “Nyxie!”

  In the recesses of her mind, Amelia knew she shouldn’t have wandered further into the house. But she bolted up the stairs, throwing open her door as she called out to the cat. It was painful to see that her room was also torn apart, but Amelia only added to the discord as she scrambled through the furniture, thoughts bent on finding Nyxie. She called out to her again and again until her voice was nothing but a sob.

  Nyxie was gone.

  ***

  Amelia had stopped answering her phone around midday, just before her shift. Which was later than usual—she’d mentioned something about training a new hire named Jesse.

  It was evening now, and Finn just got in from his flight. While they hadn’t made plans—she had to work, he knew that already—it was out of the ordinary to not hear from her all day. A real shame, too, considering his physical body was just about ready for bed, and he knew he couldn’t call quite yet.

  Finn rechecked his phone from the comfort of his couch, sinking into the leather cushions as gentle snowfall graced the penthouse windows. The activity was an idle cross between checking for new messages, checking his social media—brand supervision as an ever-evolving journey—and perusing his e-mails. Yet still, there was nothing from Amelia.

  Strange.

  Finn initially considered abstaining from the trip altogether. But in the end, he decided that Amelia was more than capable of being left alone for a few weeks. Especially in the company of others, now that her roommate was back. Nothing violent had happened thus far, which was reassuring. Besides, he’d been putting the trip off for quite some time. Eventually, matters caught up to him that needed to be dealt with in person.

  Not to mention the fact that weeks of trailing demons left him craving a change in scenery. No one seemed to know a thing about what was happening, which frustrated him. Having to skirt around exact facts and names didn’t help, and there were no new bosses or demonic beings in town—none outside of his knowledge. Alaric had suggested following Alastair, even luring him into an interrogation of sorts, but a lengthy discussion shut that idea down quickly. Realistically, there wasn’t enough proof to suspect him in the first place.

  No matter. Despite the enormous pile of nothingness that he returned to, Finn was glad to be back. At the very least, he was eager to see Amelia again. There was no denying that he’d grown terribly fond of her, and Finn dared to say that they had gotten quite close. About as close as he could imagine ever being to a human, which was once an impossible notion altogether.

  He even admitted enjoying the slew of mortal antics that accompanied her. From the sickness to the constant hunger, to the insatiable boredom that kept them occupied whenever she was off work—the latter being something they both shared. To add to that, for his satisfaction and amusement, Finn was eager to poke at the amusing partialness she demonstrated in his office, just before he went on this trip. Finn always enjoyed such incitements, after all, and was pleasantly surprised to see how easily Amelia could be riled up.

  In truth, he’d been looking forward to that all along—to seeing what other bits of fun might ruffle her up so wonderfully. He wasn’t sure when he began affecting her this way, but he drank up the idea of her reaction anyway. It was endearing to think that Amelia tried to play it off weeks ago—granted, her poker face was impeccable—while the crimson tint of her cheeks sorely gave her away.

  As for her responsiveness tonight—or lack thereof—it was the abnormality that struck him. He was sure that Amelia would have made it clear if she wanted to be left alone, but it was unreasonable to think that something awful had happened.

  He glanced down at his phone again when it rang, relief loosening up some tension that had gone unnoticed. It was a message from Amelia.

  Sorry for the long response. My house got broken into, cops are here. Talk later.

  Finn’s stomach lurched as he shot off the couch, dialing her number. “Amelia, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” he snapped, not waiting for her to speak when he heard the line was answered. Alaric sauntered into the room at that moment, pausing at Finn’s panicked tone.

  “Hey, no, um...” her voice was shaky—like she’d been crying. Finn could still hear voices in the background, which were likely the police. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Can I come over there?”

  Finn listened earnestly, searching for an indication through the muffled noises in the background. “Y-Yeah, okay,” she finally answered.

  She hung up immediately,
and Finn grabbed his coat and scarf off the back of the couch, heading toward the door.

  “What happened?” Alaric asked. “Finn?”

  “Amelia’s house got broken into, the cops are there,” he said, keys jingling as he snatched them off the counter.

  “Oh, shit. Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to see her. If anyone calls for me, tell them I’ll get back to them later.”

  “Duh.” Alaric was silent as he watched him. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Not this time,” he said. “But I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

  Finn took his car and parked some ways down the snow-laden street. Once there, he broke off into a bit of a jog, seeing the house come into view around the corner. Finn saw the lights first, but none of the neighbors were out to check on them at this time of night. Three cop cars were parked outside, and Cat was bundled on the front porch, back facing him as she stood and listened to a pair of them talk.

  Finn approached her first, as there was no sign of Amelia. “Hi, Cat,” he breathed out, fogging up the air before him. “Are you okay?”

  Cat looked tired and a bit weepy. “Oh, hi, Finn.” Her voice was sullen—dead. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Friend of yours?” an officer asked.

  “Yeah, he’s my roommate’s…friend.”

  “And where were you earlier tonight?”

  “I just flew in from a business trip,” Finn answered. A cursory glance through the window of their living room showed the catastrophe inside—their cozy little home had decimated mercilessly. His voice came a little more panicked, “Where’s Amelia?”

  “She’s looking for Nyxie.”

  “What happened to Nyxie?”

  Cat wiped away some wetness under her eye. “Amelia came home first, the door was open, and Nyxie was gone. We don’t know where she is.”

  “Do you have any information yet?” Finn addressed the officer.

  “Not yet.”

  Damn. Finn sighed, taking a step back. “Okay, I’ll go look for her.”

  He turned and stalked back across the lawn, eyeing the piles of snow that were still all over the place. They weren’t out of the winter season yet, and he worried about the feline, but he wanted to find Amelia first. Winters this far north were hard on humans as well as animals, and Amelia was out here too—he wondered if she remembered to put on something warm.