Page 120 of The Devil and His Ghost

“Let’s do this,” I told myself.

Getting to my feet, I moved between the ensuite and bedroom to get ready. My outfit and appearance was my armor—a put-together gorgeous warrior. I’d curled my glossy black hair and applied a subtle smokey make-up style to my eyes, where I’d also traded my glasses for contacts. I painted my lips a deep red, the color of the blood I’d often fantasized about spilling from every orifice of the man who stole my childhood from me. A satin forest green dress hugged my curves with a corset bodice and thin straps. Gold shoes with a heel that felt more like a dagger than something to walk on wound around my feet.

“Do I look like an unbothered badass bitch?” I asked Catsper, turning each way for him to appraise.

He purred from where he stretched out on the hotel bed.

“I’m going to pretend that means ‘yes.’”

Just as nerves started to build inside of me with nothing left to do, I looked down at the tattoo on my forearm. I traced the ink depicting the ghost surrounded by shadows. For as long as I could remember, I’d associated Xander with shadows. Shadows were where he’d appeared from and left through. Shadows meant Xander, and Xander meant safety. The demon didn’t know it, but he’d been with me much longer than he thought. He was inked on my very skin as the shadows surrounding the ghost—surrounding me—as my shield, my weapon, my calm, my peace, my home.

I placed my hand over the tattoo and squeezed it as though absorbing strength from the permanent image.

We’ll write a new story after tomorrow, and it’ll have a happy ending.

“A happy ending,” I whispered into the quiet of the room.

I checked the time. There were about forty-five minutes until it was time for people to start heading to the ballroom where the ceremony was to take place. If I had to guess, Terrance and his bride were probably in the middle of taking photos with their respective bridal and groom parties. I could only imagine how happy Terrance must’ve looked at that moment. I also wondered where I’d fit into the day if things had been different.

Would I have been watching my brother pose with his best friends, each dressed to the nines and smiling vibrantly?

Would I have been a part of the bridesmaids, having formed my own friendship with Becca as we welcomed her into the family?

One thing I was sure of was that I wouldn’t be sitting in a quiet hotel room, alone with only a ghost cat for company.

A knock came at my door. My heart lurched in alarm, even as I told myself that no one but Xander and Terrance knew my room number. Seeing as how Xander would just come in via shadows rather than knock, there was only one other person who could be on the other side of that door. A peek through the peephole confirmed my suspicion.

Grinning, I opened the door. Terrance practically glowed in his black suit with a forrest green bowtie and breast pocket handkerchief. His dirty blond hair had been combed and gelled so that he looked every bit a handsome gentleman.

“Happy wedding day, old man,” I greeted.

He pulled me in for a hug, and even as my body tensed under the sudden squeeze, I swallowed down the repulsion to hug him back. Just once. I could stomach a hug for him today.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he released me to wipe away his happy tears. “I should’ve asked before—”

“It’s okay,” I cut him off with a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Are you excited?”

“So excited,” he laughed before placing both hands over his chest and not-so-successfully schooling the glee from his face. “But also so nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great, and I know Becca is just as excited to walk down that aisle to you.”

Terrance’s smile softened in the same way I often caught Xander’s when he looked at me. “I love her so much, Kendyll. I didn’t think I could be this happy. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

That sentiment was one we both apparently shared. Knowing he felt the same way, even if for different reasons, made emotion squeeze my throat. I knew Terrance carried some sort of self-imposed guilt for not “protecting” me better when we were little. Though, he thought my issues were in making up imaginary friends and claims about his dad that were steeped in lies and a mental illness. I didn’t blame him for believing those things. He was also young back then, only two years older than me. All the adults told him I was sick, and my stay at Mountview would’ve only confirmed that.

But that didn’t matter. His guilt was misplaced. There was nothing he could’ve done back then to stop what was happening to me or to stop my being taken away. I hoped the weight he’d been shouldering all this time would ease today just as mine hopefully would.

“You deserve to be happy,” I told him earnestly. “And today is the start of what will be the happiest days of your life.”

His grin stretched wide again. “Thanks, sis.” He looked around the room from where we still stood in the entryway. “Where’s Xander?”

“He had some work to do, so he’ll be getting here a little before time to start seating.”

“So you aren’t doing anything right now?”

The hopeful way in which he spoke, paired with the jovial shine in his eyes, nearly made me hesitate. Lying in wait among that hope and happiness pouring out of him was a follow-up question. Needles pricked my insides with dread.

“N-No,” I managed to answer.