He nodded, glancing toward the house.“Tonight, this thing doesn’t stay here.”
“Not without me.”
His mouth curved into a quick, tight smile.“Grab what you need.I’ll wait.”
Gripping the book, I hurried back inside, heart pounding harder with every step.Halfway down the upstairs hall, something tugged at my attention.
The guest room.
I slowed, pressed my ear to the door.
Nothing.
Unease prickled up my spine.I opened it.
The Red Queen lay on her back, hands folded neatly on her chest, eyes closed.So still she looked like a queen laid out for a formal funeral.
At least she was quiet.
I closed the door softly, then hurried to my room and set the grimoire on my dresser.I stared at it for half a second—too long.Leaving it here felt wrong.Like leaving a live wire in my house.
With a muttered curse, I snatched it back up, tucked it under my arm, and grabbed my purse.I locked up.Owen waited beside the truck, his hand on the passenger door.When I approached, he opened it for me.
Ever the gentleman.
We drove to Charmed & Vintage.The road stretched too quiet, the darkness pressing close to the headlights.I found myself checking the mirrors over and over, convinced I caught movement beyond the edges of the light.
But there was nothing there.Just my hyperawareness and paranoia.The sooner we got rid of this trunk, the better.
We arrived without incident—but relief never came.Owen parked and cut the engine and we both hopped out.I scooped up the grimoire from the seat before I even unbuckled, as if leaving it behind would be an invitation.The leather felt warmer than it should’ve.
“I’ll grab the dolly.”
“You’re leaving me out here alone?”
“For a minute,” he said.“I won’t be long.Promise.”
The door shut behind him, plunging the street back into silence.
I clutched the grimoire to my chest, scanning the quiet storefronts, the single streetlamp casting a sickly halo of light.My imagination whispered.
Then one of the shadows moved.
Not flickered.Not shifted.
Moved.
My breath snagged.
The shadow slid along the storefront across the street, stretching unnaturally, peeling itself free from the darkness like ink lifting from a page.
“Owen, hurry up,” I whispered.
The thing surged forward.
Owen burst back out of the shop, shoving the dolly aside as his hands flared with light.“Get behind me.”
The creature took shape mid-charge—jaws splitting wide, stench of rot and sulfur hitting me like a physical blow.Owen released a blast of white-gold energy that sent it screeching backward—
