I have power now. Real power. I amnothelpless.
There’s a knock at the door. Not tentative. Sharp. Measured.
I freeze.
Flint is still at work. Betsy is more likely to let herself in. Calida would’ve tapped on the window and laughed uproariously when she scared the shit out of me?—
Another knock. Louder this time. More insistent.
I creep towards the door, feeling my heart hammering in my throat. Trying to keep as far away as possible while still being able to check, I struggle to focus my energy towards the stranger, trying to get a read.
Fucking.
Brett.
“Caaaaasie,” he sings softly, voice lilting, almost playful. “Did you miss me?”
How the fuck does he even know where I live? Oh,right.He was fucking stalking me. Of course he knows where I live.
His hair is wet, face pale and twisted. His eyes are bloodshot. Something about him is even more off than usual.
Does he seriously think I’m going to open this door?
“You need to go,” I yell. “I’m calling the police.” I’m trying to infuse my voice with magick, hoping it’s enough to put him off whatever his current plan is.
Silence.
Then, he laughs. A broken, hiccupping sound. “They won’t help you,” he says. “Not after what you did to me.”
More silence.
CRASH.
His shoulder slams into the door. The wood groans, owing under his weight. I stumble back, reaching for my phone, but it slips from my fingers and clatters under the couch.
His voice warps, warbled, like there’s more than one voice saying the same words. “Funny thing about wards,” he snarls. “They keep out what you think you understand. But what if the threat is alreadyinside?”
Before I can react, the air around me seems to crack. The faint hum of protection breaks around me like shattered glass and I gasp as a wave of Brett’s emotions hit me, raw, jagged and stronger than I was prepared for. Waves of obsession, hunger, hatred, rage. Terror. It’s like being smothered in dark foulness.
The door gives on the third hit from his shoulder. Mentally, I scream for Calida, for Flint.
He steps inside, water dropping from his face and hair, chest heaving. A knife glints in his hand.
My own terror whips out of my body, meeting his invading energy like two storms colliding and the air goes white.
When it’s cleared, the air stinks of smoke and ozone. Brett is still there, at the threshold, smiling. A voice that isn’t his sneers, “You’re stronger than you were. But still sloppy.”
As I scramble away from him, he moves further inside, stalking me every move.
“Witch,” he hisses, his voice his own again. “I knew it.You smiled at me, dancedfor me,and then cursed me. You ruinedeverything. My job, my life.” He laughs, the sound edging on hysteria. “I can’t even sleep anymore.” His voice trails off to a whisper. “I try… I try, but they come back. Every night. The crows come and they eat my face and they talk to me, and they…” I don’t think he even knows he’s weeping.
I back away, as slowly as I dare. “You don’t get to do this anymore. You don’t get to invade my life!”
That strange tenor enters his voice again. “Oh, I think I do. You invited me,remember?All that time you’ve spent thinking about me, dreaming about me. Magick answers attention, Ash.You fed me.”
My heart slams against my ribs. He isn’t wrong. All those nights I had lain awake, terrified and worried, Ihadbeen thinking of him, imagining what he might do next… every thought was a tether; every fear, an opening.
His normal voice takes control. “You didn’t have to. You whispered it, didn’t you? Told the little birdies the names of all my playmates. Maybe you wrote it. You’re always writing things. You and your creepy little book friends. But now you’re all alone, aren’t you?” His voice rises. “You’re all the same. Think you can smile and then destroy someone forwantingyou.”
