Page 28 of Realm of the Wicked

‘He didn’t seem thrilled when I left, no.’ I leaned against the countertop, attempting to find something to ground me. ‘Exactly how many rules did Damien break to bring me here?’

‘Enough of them.’ Agatha held my gaze for a moment longer than she needed to, and then grinned. ‘Now, I’m sure you’ll be looking for food for that cat of yours. Archie, was it? I’m surprised Damien let you bring him. He’s not the fondest of cats. Something about them sensing who he really is. I don’t think it takes a cat to see that, though. I’ll scrounge up some food for you. Oh, and I found a dress for you to wear to dinner tonight. It’s hanging up on your wardrobe door.’

Agatha rattled off about dinner, and Archie, and countless other things, but I couldn’t keep up. My mind was too busy wondering just how many rules ‘enough of them’ meant.

* * *

I tossed the ball of yarn Agatha had procured for me – ‘That poor pussycat must be bored out of his mind’ – watching Archie dart out from under my bed to attack it. For her uncertainty, Agatha had not only found food for Archie, but a pile of blankets to fashion into a bed for him, in addition to the balls of yarn he currently chased around my room.

Luna had been scratching at my bedroom door since the moment I’d closed it. Archie was overly curious, and kept wandering to the door, crying for the bloody Hellhound until I’d distracted him with the yarn.

Watching Archie, I did my best to ignore the elephant in the room: namely, one black dress that swung against my wardrobe door as if to haunt me every time I deigned to ignore it.

I used to love dresses. Dressing up. Putting on make-up, doing my hair. All of the things I was supposed to like. Until my parents passed away, and I was thrust into responsibility far before I was ready. And while I could never, and would never, resent Grace, all of the things I used to love just slipped by the wayside. Of course, that grew even more true once Grace got sick. It felt silly to shop, or wear anything even slightly impractical when I knew I’d be spending my days in and out of the hospital.

There was no way Damien could’ve known any of that, though. He wouldn’t have known that a simple dress for dinner would send me spiraling, no more than Agatha would’ve. They couldn’t understand that for me, this wasn’t just a dress.

This was a line in the sand. A breaking point from the only life I’d seen for myself. If I put that dress on, it made this real.

I chewed on my lip, ignoring the dress, doing my best to shut away the endless thoughts, telling me the dress was just the first step. Next thing you’d know, I’d be forgetting the color of Grace’s hair, or the only brand of toothpaste she’d use, rejecting all others on the basis of packaging.

Luna continued to scratch and Archie abandoned his ball of yarn. ‘Never mind her.’ Despite Agatha’s reassurance that Luna really was a sweetheart, I was still nervous to let Archie around her.

Had Damien had a hand in picking out the dress? Agatha said she’d found it, but I had a feeling there wasn’t much that went on inside the house that Damien didn’t know about. Maybe he’d selected it himself, imagining me in it. Or out of it.

Or maybe I was a massive freaking idiot.

I groaned and flopped back on my bed. I knew I should’ve already been dressed. Damien didn’t seem like the kind of person who enjoyed waiting.

Would you even consider him a person? He had been at one point.

Maybe it would do him some good to learn some patience. Learn how to act around another person who hadn’t been indoctrinated into his bullshit for the last fifty years. As if I hadn’t just been picturing Damien hand-selecting a dress for me.

I threw my arm over my eyes, taking myself back to my apartment. Grace and I would be in our sweats, ordering pizza. It was Friday, wasn’t it? I couldn’t remember what day it was, but it felt like a lot longer than a day since I’d been here.

But I wasn’t at home, and Grace probably didn’t even think of Fridays as pizza nights any more. I was in the Fringe, with a black dress staring daggers at me, and a handsome devil with a temper problem waiting for me.

I took a deep breath and forced myself off the bed to get dressed. For dinner. With the Devil and his housekeeper. While my cat pawed at the door, demanding to play with a massive Hellhound.

Perfectly, completely normal.

11

STELLA

Walking through the halls in the dark alone left me unsettled. The route from my room to the dining room Agatha pointed out was simple. In theory. But the darkness was thick and deep in the corners, almost behaving like it was alive. I ran my hand along the thick, wooden chair rail, as if it would keep me from getting lost in the gloom.

You left her, you know. Grace. You left her all alone to put on a pretty dress and smile at the damned.

I whipped my head around, expecting to see someone standing behind me for how close the voice was, finding only the barely lit hallway. Damien must have not bothered to light all of the overly ornate sconces, and the candles inside flickered ominously. Empty. Completely empty except for the shadows curling around the edges of the corners, pulsing and growing by the minute. I blinked and turned back to the staircase, obviously losing my mind after only a day here. Yet, the voice sounded so real. I would’ve sworn it was real.

Oh, I am real, Stella. As real as you. And I see everything. Did you really think leaving her was a good idea? Did you really think that was best?

I nearly tripped at the top of the stairs as I spun around. No one. Just the shadows creeping ever closer. I shot a glance at the light lining the hallway, flickering back and forth. ‘I did what I had to do.’

And now I was speaking to shadows. Add it to my list of normalcy.

Mmm… I wonder if your lies are good enough to help you sleep at night. Lies are what got you here, after all. I guess we’ll see how far they’ll get you.