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“And Chastity?”
“Yes, and Chastity. That is a promise.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be enough.” I free my hand from his grasp and turn back toward the cabinet. My gaze catches on a group photo I hadn’t noticed before, one with the year 1937 scrawled in black ink at the top righthand corner.
A familiar stare reaches out and grabs me from almost sixty years in the past.
It’s the man from my dream, looking exactly the same as he did last night, but with different clothes.
“See someone you recognize?” Edward asks.
“No,” I say quickly. I don’t want to have to explain my dream man to Edward. It feels too personal, and I’m not even sure what to make of it yet.
My palms start to sweat. I had never seen this man before, so I know I didn’t conjure him from memory. But if he was here in 1937, then that means his ghost is real, which then begs the question, are the other ghosts real, too? Why am I suddenly seeing ghosts in my dreams?
And, most importantly, how was the man able to touch me?
“Are these the only old photos you have, or are there more?” I ask.
“I’m afraid Chastity threw most of them out during the renovation,” he says. “But she may have packed a few albums away.”
“I think I’d like to see those.”
“I’d like for you to see them, too.” He takes my hand again. “You’re not a prisoner, Mariah. If you really want to leave, I’ll drive you to the airport myself. But if I can get Christopher to assure me that he isverysorry for his actions, will you consider staying a while longer?”
I steal another glance at the old group photo. If the man from my dream really is a ghost, then the only chance I’ll have to talk to him again is if I stay one more night.
“Fine,” I say. “But if things don’t get better, I’m out of here.”
Chapter Eight
William
Edward whirls the silver keychain around his finger, glaring back and forth between his disobedient children. He’s brought them down to the cellar to give them a talking to. It’s a speech he could easily perform in his office but having a bloodthirsty vampire at his back certainly helps punctuate his points of contention.
“I thought I’d made myself clear before Mariah’s arrival,” Edward says. “But apparently you both need everything spelled out for you.”
Lilliana sighs, arms folded, outwardly aloof. It’s an art she’s perfected over the years, masking her emotions with indifference. But her insides tell a different story. Her heart is pounding. She hates being down here, the same way a fast-food junkie would squirm if they had to watch a cow having its throat cut.
Christopher stands motionless like a toy soldier with swampy armpits. He knows he’s in for it.
Frankly, these family dramas bore me. It’s the middle of the day, and I want them to leave so I can watch Mariah from the twilight realm until she falls asleep. But I prefer not to leave my body unattended around this crowd, even if I can’t control what they do to me.
Tonight, I will test Mariah to see if she’s capable of retrieving Edward’s keys while in her astral form. Katherine claims she’s not strong enough, but I’ll discern that for myself. At the very least, I can begin earning her trust.
“Whether I choose to disclose certain aspects of my plans to one or both of you is at my discretion,” Edward says. “As my children, it is your duty to do as I say, and to trust that I have the situation under control.” He looks to his daughter. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lilliana?”
“I wanted to see if she’d predict the arrow’s trajectory,” she says.
“And. Did she?”
“Maybe. She knew exactly when to duck and roll, so that’s something.”
Edward rubs his chin. “I cannot condone your acting out against her without my consent. But I appreciate your motivations.”
Lilliana’s mouth slants into the closest shape it will ever come to resembling a smile.
“Two thousand dollars off this month’s allowance,” Edward says.
