The Ex Hex (Ex Hex #1)(50)

Her other hand reached out for the opposite wall to steady herself a little as he lowered his head.

And then she yelped as her fingers tingled, almost like she’d touched a socket.

“What is it?” Rhys asked, immediately stepping back and turning on his flashlight, pointing it at the wall to their right.

“I think,” Vivi said as she looked at the markings painted there, “we’ve found Piper’s altar.”





Chapter 22




Rhys knew he should be thrilled they’d found what they were looking for. He also knew it was probably stupid to feel slightly resentful that, years ago, a witch had made her altar in a small closet where, decades later, Rhys had come very close to kissing a gorgeous woman before being thoroughly cock-blocked by said altar, but it was very late, and he was not kissing Vivienne, so Piper McBride was now on his shit list for more than just throwing him across a library.

“Why would she keep her altar in here?” Rhys asked now, moving the beam of his flashlight over the runes Piper had painted all those years ago. Some of them he recognized, but others were unfamiliar.

“Guessing she had people in her life who didn’t know she was a witch,” Vivienne replied, kneeling down on the floor and pressing her fingers to the floorboard. “Or maybe it was because she was doing dark magic?”

Sitting back on her heels, she frowned. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Main thing is we light the candle, trap her, then get out of here.”

“Hear, hear,” Rhys muttered, still looking at the runes. There was something sinister about them, especially the ones at the bottom of the wall, all dark, slashing marks that hadn’t faded after all this time.

Vivienne had pulled the candle out of her bag, and Rhys watched as she affixed it to a small silver holder before fishing out a pack of matches.

Rhys wasn’t sure if she was holding her breath as she lit the candle, but he sure as fuck was. Why hadn’t he tried to talk her out of this? He knew she felt guilty for the ghost in the first place, but it wasn’t her job to do this. If the college witches wanted this ghost caught, they could bloody well do it themselves.

He was leaning forward to tell her that—and possibly blow out the damn candle—when the temperature in the closet seemed to drop by a good ten degrees.

Too late, then.

“She’s here,” Vivienne breathed, then looked up at him. “That sounded really creepy. Sorry.”

“Yes, it was really you saying a two-word phrase that made this entire situation unsettling. Before? Pleasant as a day in the park.”

Vivienne looked back to the candle, but he saw the corner of her mouth quirk in something close to a smile.

But then, as they waited and the air just kept getting colder, Rhys was aware of a sort of hissing sound, like someone had left the gas on, and as he turned to look back toward the front door, he saw what looked like mist snaking underneath it.

It glowed, casting the room in an eerie blue light as it gathered across the floor, undulating its way toward them.

The cold was almost unbearable now, and Rhys caught Vivi’s elbow, helping her to her feet as they both stepped outside the closet, watching the mist gather and coalesce, spreading upward until the wavering form of Piper McBride floated in front of them.

She looked less substantial than she had in the library, and, goddess be praised, she also seemed a hell of a lot less pissed off.

Instead, she just seemed a little confused, her gaze moving restlessly over what had been her house.

As Rhys and Vivienne watched, little tendrils of the mist that made up the ghost of Piper McBride began to peel off, curling toward the candle like smoke, her form becoming even more transparent.

“I think it’s working,” Vivienne barely whispered, and Rhys nodded.

“Could work a bit faster, if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry the ancient ghost-summoning candle magic is not impressing you enough, Rhys.”

“I didn’t say that, I just—”

“Penhaaaaalllllllow.”

His last name was little more than a sort of garbled sigh, and real fear raced, icy and prickly hot all at once, down Rhys’s spine.

The ghost continued to sway in place even as more and more of her drifted off toward the candle. Her eyes were the same pale blue as the rest of her, the pupils so large they nearly absorbed the iris, and Rhys felt like she was looking through him, not at him.

“Cursed Penhallow,” Piper added, her form becoming even wispier. “Cursed for what was taken.”

“I thought I was cursed because I was a fuckerneck,” Rhys muttered to Vivi, but she was frowning at the ghost.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “What did he take?”

“It was never yours, asshole,” the ghost hissed. “You took it.” She was coming apart now, her head floating far from her neck, hands drifting away into spirals of smoke that disappeared into the candle’s flame.

It was one of the most frightening things Rhys had ever seen, and Vivienne was stepping closer to it.

“But he didn’t take anything,” she said, her chin lifted as the spirit’s head floated ever higher. “Like, not even my V-card.”

“That’s true!” Rhys said to Piper. “And I’m not exactly a taker anyway, more of a giver, really.”