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She twitched the white ear at me. “Rrow.”
Brien kept a couple of ceramic bowls behind the wet bar. Opening a can of cat food, I dumped it into one bowl and refilled the other with fresh water. Demon crouched on her haunches, devouring the meal with a dainty greed.
A few minutes later, Kerry arrived with my own dinner. At least this time the meal appeared edible—a leafy green salad, a grilled salmon steak, a baked potato and a bottle of mineral water.
She put the tray on the coffee table, her mouth pursed like being forced to wait on me caused her actual, physical pain.
I heaved an exasperated breath. “I’m not going away, you know. I love him. You don’t have to like me, but you’d better get used to me.”
No response.
I rolled my eyes and waited for her to leave, but instead she shoved her face into mine. Okay, now she was pissing me off.
I placed my hand on her chest and pushed her back a few inches. “Back. Off.”
Cold fingers clamped around my wrist. “Listen to me, Twilight,” she intoned, staring into my eyes.
“What the fuck? Let me go.” I slammed my free elbow into the side of her neck.
She grunted and recoiled but came back at me. Blue fire flickered around her irises. “Listen to me.” Her voice crackled with magic.
I stiffened. This wasn’t Kerry. The housekeeper was a human.
But whoever it was, she was trying to compel me.
I stopped fighting and pretended the compulsion had worked.
The grip on my wrist tightened. When the mystery woman spoke again, she kept her tone low and gritty, like she was trying to disguise it. “Are you listening? Sayyesif you are.”
I let my face go slack. “Yes. I’m listening.”
“Good.” She dug a brown glass bottle from her uniform pocket and pressed it into my hand. “Spray this liquid into Brien’s mouth and nose. It will make him stronger, so he wins the challenge. You want that, don’t you?”
I didn’t believe for a second that whatever was in the bottle would help Brien, but I shoved my doubt down deep so she wouldn’t pick up on it and closed my fingers around the bottle.
The intruder repeated the statement two more times, infusing it with a strong compulsion that an ordinary human wouldn’t have been able to resist.
“Do you understand?” she demanded. “Tell me your instructions.”
“I will spray this in Brien’s mouth and nose.”
“To help him win,” she added.
“To help him win,” I repeated.
Smart, to frame the instructions as a way to help Brien. Compulsion is like hypnosis—it’s easier to compel a person to do something they’re already inclined to do.
“Do it now,” she commanded. “And say nothing to Brien. It’s important that he doesn’t know you helped him. When you’re finished, throw the bottle away and come back to the living room. You’ll eat your dinner and forget I was here.”
“Yes.” I turned toward the bedroom, the bottle clenched in my hand.
“Go,” she said sharply.
I obeyed. She waited until I was leaning over Brien, pretending to spray the liquid into his face, then walked to the door.
I watched her leave out of the corner of my eye, careful to keep my gaze on Brien. The air shimmered around her, and she seemed to shrink a few inches and develop curves. And then to my shock, a shark tattoo appeared, curving around the side of her neck. An instant later, the tattoo disappeared, and her body narrowed and elongated again.
I jerked my gaze back to Brien.
