Page 58

But maybe I forgave him anyway.

seventeen

. . .

I woke up to something snuffling my skin. “Jerome?” He’d gone through a pig stage, where he snuffled everything.

The responding growl was deep and terrifying enough to bring me from drowsy to hyper awake in a blink. I held perfectly still while cold breath huffed over my bare face in bed. What time was it? What day was it? What monster was in my room?

I slowly reached up and touched something near my cheek, something moist and cold and absolutely horrific. I screamed and threw myself out on the opposite side of the bed, landing on the floor, except for my feet, which were tangled in the sheets, then I kicked and scrambled out of the jumble until I was free. I ran, hit the doorjamb, ricocheted back a step before I made it through the door.

Once I was in the hall, I ran full out until I got to the stairs, and then I took them two and three at a time, almost killing myself when I tripped on the last step.

A roar like thunder shook the house.

I froze and slowly looked up. There was a grizzly bear on the landing. Ah. That’s what had been in my room. An undead bear. And it was exactly as horrifying as I’d thought it was.

It leapt down the stairs, five times faster than I’d been, while I stood there, trying to think how to lay the undead bear to rest. I needed a necromancy book and a few hours, not the few seconds it would take for the bear to catch me. And the kids. I couldn’t lead it to them, so I had to deal with it here. Somehow.

Clark came in from the kitchen, holding a spatula, taking in the situation at a glance. The diabolical sorcerer could handle an undead bear, no problem! I ran across the hall, ducking behind him, but he turned and spun us so I was in front of him again. The bear stalked towards me, swinging large paws, making this sound, not quite a roar, more like a moan. He’d certainly figured out how to use his dried-up vocal cords.

“The bear is part of Hoar House,” Clark said conversationally in that low, reverberating voice. “He won’t hurt you.”

I shot a look of disbelief up at him where he lurked behind my shoulder. “You mean to say that you put him in my bedroom?” The betrayal!

He tilted his head, looking hot and unbothered. “No. But he was there because you’re the heir of the house. I hate that it’s called Hoar. It sounds so…”

I snorted because he was the one using the name as a trashy insult in the cemetery. But now was not the time. I refocused on the bear, who was coming closer, grumbling and sweeping his paws, like he was looking for something he couldn’t find. Me. He was looking for me. Was he blind? No, but he didn’t want to hurt me. That’s what Clark was saying, right? That the bear belonged to me, so he wouldn’t hurt me? Maybe he belonged to me and could hurt me by accident, or if he got into a rage. Did undead things feel rage?

I reached back and grabbed Clark’s wrist, clinging. “How do I put him back to sleep?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

I looked over my shoulder to frown at him. “Obviously, because I don’t want an undead grizzly bear in my house. Suppose he kills someone.”

“He’ll only harm someone who’s trying to hurt you. He’s actually an incredibly complex magical construct. He was created with so much care and precision. The work of a true artist. The caretakers must’ve hidden him in the cottage hoping for a return of the heir.”

“And here I am. And I did sort of call him to life. So I can uncall him to life. How did it go? Ahem. ‘Bear, go to sleep, obey me thrice, bear bones go weak, for real and pretend.’” I pointed at the bear thing to emphasize my spell.

He sat on his haunches and tilted his head as if to ask me what I thought I was doing. It was kind of adorable, like death in a fur coat.

“I’m sorry, my precious heart, but is that the ‘spell’ you used to wake him up? He was definitely waiting for you, because that’s the least precise bit of magical work I’ve ever heard.”

I elbowed him, stepping forward towards the bear, who looked less like a threat. I turned around to scowl at my soon-to-be-ex-husband. “It worked.”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Because he wanted to come back to life. He was never put to rest properly.”

“But you could put him to rest properly.”

He smiled, but it was the cold smile of a diabolical sorcerer. “I could, but I’d rather he continued to protect you.”

“I can’t just walk around with a grizzly bear following me everywhere.”

“He’s a magical construct in the shape of a bear, and I think you can.”

I scowled at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course. Another layer of protection for my beautiful love, what could make me happier?” He said the words, but so coldly.