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I feel the point of a blade against my throat, and it’s real enough to make me open my eyes.
He smiles down at me, twisting the blade lightly.
I still can’t move. Not my legs, not my arms.
My head and neck can move a little, but that’s it.
I’m trapped here with this thing that has Paul’s face.
He laughs. “You can’t tell it’s really me?”
A chill washes over me, and I know refusing to speak with him isn’t going to make this any easier.
“I can’t tell what you are. I can’t see spirits. I’m not a medium, or a necromancer.”
“It’s the house,” he gloats. “Everyone inside can see the ghosts. If they want to be seen, that is. Some of the spirits would rather stay hidden. As is their right.”
It’s crazy talk. This can’t be Paul.
He’s …
“I’m free of hell for the night,” he tells me. “My fated mate made a deal with the Dark Lord himself. She really is something special. I should have trusted that my parents would find me the right woman to spend eternity with.”
I close my eyes.His fiancé. His parents said he ran out on her.
She was already chosen when I broke up with him and ended up in running for my life.
I open my eyes. “Does your fiancé know you’ll never stop chasing teenage girls?”
His expression twists, and pushes the knife forward, nicking my skin.
“You don’t know me, Rachel Ellison. Don’t pretend you ever did.”
“Like you pretended to love me?”
He laughs, relaxing his hold on the knife. “Still cut up over that, are you? Too fucking late. Your fate is sealed.”
Is it?I smile at him as the paralysis wears off.
The room is an illusion. All of this is.
Except, maybe, him.
I disappear the knife from his hand and throw him across the room with my magic.
He’s a poltergeist. They can take solid form, use objects.
I partial shift to heal the wound on my neck.
Then, I make the knife reappear in my hand as I stalk over to where he’s crumpled on the ground.
“No,” I tell him. “You’re the one who’s so cut up over me. You couldn’t have me, so you wanted me dead. So no man could ever touch me like you’d always wanted to.”
I plunge the knife into his chest and twist it.
He roars in pain.
He could have shifted to his non corporeal form, but he thinks he’s too tough to pussy out. I know the way he thinks. I figured him out eventually. Turns out, it’s not that hard to spot a bad guy once you know what a good one looks like.
