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IfI’dhadthreeguesses over winter break as to what I might be doing on New Year’s Eve this year, none of my answers would have involved spending the night in a haunted mansion. Considering how crazy my life has been ever since I drew special selection at my high school graduation ceremony, I guess I should have known better than to expect a normal night at home with the mates I gained when I became a hybrid.
Still, this feels like a whole new level of insanity.
The sky’s been overcast all afternoon, low rumblings of thunder crashing overhead. It’s even darker now that it’s just past six, with no visible stars. I move my gaze back to the property when the wind picks up, blowing my hair around madly.
The mansion is old, with broken windows and stained and crumbling sections of brickwork. The front door is broken and it’s swinging open and shut, hinges creaking loudly.
It doesn’t feel like we should be here. Yet here we are.
“I can’t believe this is it,” Silas murmurs, clearly thinking about meeting his estranged father.
My tall, dark, tattooed mate looks like he’s getting a migraine. He looked the same way in the car when he admitted he wasn’t sure about being out here. It’s also the way he looks when a spirit is speaking to him. He tends to wince when that happens.
“Is it Sara?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “There are no spirits out here. I think they’re all in there.”
“Could this place be any creepier?” Carter asks, letting go of my hand to wrap his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my left shoulder. His blue hair brushes against my cheek, tickling my skin while he gets comfy. He shivers dramatically after a second, and my body echoes that sentiment, making him hold me closer on reflex. His leather wrist cuffs make my shirt ride up a little, and the tiniest hint of desire bursts to life inside me, making my Omega mate hold his breath and go still behind me.
Not now, Carter. Later.
Even if he couldn’t read my thoughts, he could tell this isn’t the time for that kind of distraction. There’s way too much else going on, and we’re not exactly in a safe place.
“Later,” he murmurs, as if he’s reminding me of a promise I’ve made.
I put my attention back on Silas, watching him brush a hand through his short, dark hair.
“Can you tell how many are inside?” I ask, knowing it’s something necromancers can do.
My mate might not be a necromancer, but there are some parallels between mediums and witches who can control the dead. They share some of the same skills.
“A lot?” he asks, giving me a wry smile. “I can’t tell, exactly, but the energy here is pretty strong. There must be a bunch of them in there.”
“How ‘bout live people?” Adrian asks, knowing I can spell for that.
I may not be a necromancer, but I know how to check for signs of life.
The simple spell requires a little bit of concentration, and I get my answer.
“Two,” I tell them. “A human, and a necromancer.”
“There’s a necromancer?” Silas asks.
“Maybe Sara’s father works with a partner?”
“Maybe,” he says, shrugging.
“Or maybe this is a trap,” Adrian suggests. He glances at Carter. “This would be a good time to have one of your premonitions.”
Carter shrugs. “Pretty sure those were a one-time gift from The Fates. I only had them when you had those dreams about Rachel.”
“Yeah, well, I had another dream,” Adrian admits.
“You did?” I ask.
All eyes are on our Alpha. His prophetic dreams are what led them to find me when I was in serious trouble. If he hadn’t dreamt about me, and Carter hadn’t had his premonitions, I would have died by Paul’s hands, my soul sacrificed to his Dark Lord.
“Same dream, really,” he goes on. “But it felt prophetic somehow. I can’t explain it.”
