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“Yeah,” he muttered and did just that.
9:30 p.m.
ESSENCE SPENT THE drive back to Shepherdstown unable to talk because she was afraid if she did she might start crying. She felt like she’d gotten jerked back and forth on an emotional roller coaster.
First, the sex, the intensity of it, the way she’d felt unleashed and free and so very turned on. She never felt safe enough with men to let go in that way. Maybe if she was drunk or something, she might ask for things she usually didn’t ask for, but usually, she was too timid. It wasn’t necessarily even the choking, she didn’t think. Choking—in and of itself—didn’t really do much for her. It was just the way Decker had seemed, um, uncontrolled. As if he’d been so, so attracted to her that he couldn’t help himself, as if the way it had felt to fuck her had taken him apart and he couldn’t help but squeeze her neck like that. That was what had made her feel so hot, she thought.
Then, after that, the last moment, the way he’d seemed so adorable when he’d asked if he could come, the surge of whatever that emotion had been in her, an emotion she honestly wanted to call, well, love.
And then…
Then, he hated her.
So, she wanted to sob. How did she go from feeling safe enough to reveal her most vulnerable sexual desires to feeling shamed and shunned and hated so quickly?
When they got back into town, she managed to direct him how to drive to Hollis’s house. They parked in his driveway, got out of the car—she had to climb out of the driver’s side again, and she was getting sick of that—and went to the front door.
They knocked, and nothing happened.
She opened the door, leaned inside, and yelled, “Hollis?”
Nothing.
“It’s unlocked,” said Decker. “So, he’s probably here.”
“I leave my place unlocked all the time,” she said. “So, maybe not, but let’s go look for him.”
“We’re just going into his house?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Come on.”
They stepped inside. It was dark. She felt around for a light switch, and bathed the room in light. They were in a foyer, the walls painted navy blue, an ornate art-noveau-style frame mirror on one wall, a sleek, modern industrial chandelier overhead. The place had a feeling of being very intentionally decorated, but it was also kind of eclectic. Purposeful but not cohesive.
They walked back the hallway, peered inside the living room—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all kinds of instruments out on stands, antique furniture.
No Hollis.
“Hollis!” she called.
Nothing.
They kept going.
He wasn’t in the kitchen, and he wasn’t in the big, formal dining room. He wasn’t in the bathroom. He wasn’t in the other living room—or maybe it was a study or a den. He wasn’t upstairs, either, not in any of the four bedrooms or the three bathrooms up there.
They came back down the stairs and started down the hallway towards the front door.
Something melted out of the shadows, something dark and furred with spines on its back and a gaping open mouth with sharp teeth.
She shrieked.
Decker stopped short.
The something solidified.
“Kevin,” gasped Essence.
Kevin leaned against the wall, looking normal now. He was a puca, which meant he could shapeshift. “Essence Quill?”
