Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(15)

As hard as I struggled to turn away from that repulsive face, it held me riveted. The blood drained from my own face, and my body trembled uncontrollably. I felt as vulnerable as a mouse cornered by a hungry snake.

A strange expression passed over the demon’s face. It took me a moment to identify it as shock. “Where did you find her?” it hissed, and I recognized the voice as Jethro’s.

“It doesn’t matter,” Caden responded levelly.

I glimpsed a springy curl as Amelie edged in behind Jethro, shifting her weight, ready to react to the impending explosion—an explosion over me, and I hadn’t the first clue why.

“Oh, but it does! She could lead us to more … I need to bring her to the Council.”

“And how do you suppose you’ll do that?”

Jethro laughed wickedly. “Do you actually think you’ll walk out of here alive with her?”

“Do you?” Caden growled. He leaned back to shield me with his body just as Jethro lunged forward.

I didn’t see anything else. I curled up in my hollow, my face buried in my shoulder. Growls and shrieks filled the cave. Ghastly sounds—bones crunching, flesh tearing—sucked the breath out of my lungs. Caden was no longer protecting me. Now, exposed, I was an easy target. I winced, waiting for a hand to wrench me out of my hiding place and rip my heart out.

But instead, the ferocious brawl died down to an eerie silence and I heard Amelie’s voice murmuring in the distance. Still afraid to breathe, I lifted my head to peek out around the corner—in time to see a white object sail through the air and land in the fire.

Jethro’s head.

Those alarming white eyes stared intently at me from the flames as if still alive. A body followed, quivering violently.

If anyone else remained in the cave, I didn’t notice. Because, for the second time in one night, everything went dark.

I woke up as my head slammed into something hard. Cringing, I opened my eyes to see the legs of a white chaise and a shaggy cream rug beside a fireplace. I recognized that chaise, that fireplace. I had fallen out of bed in the guest room at Viggo and Mortimer’s.

“Oh, thank God!” I exclaimed, crawling back into bed and dropping onto the plush pillows. I winced in pain. Reaching up, I found a bump already forming on the side of my head. That was quick. But even the throbbing injury couldn’t outweigh my relief. It was all just a dream. A horribly bad dream.

Something wet nuzzled against my ear. I turned toward it and saw Max’s enormous black nose. I grinned, scratching his chin. He proceeded to sniff me, head to toe. “Okay, enough Max!” I giggled when he licked my feet.

Today was my birthday and I was in paradise. This, I knew, was real. A huge smile stretched across my face.

The clock on the nightstand read ten–thirty. I slept in! I bolted out of bed and ran for the shower. After all, Sofie had brought me to New York to work off my ten thousand dollar debt to her and here I was, lazing around.

As I stood in the giant tiled shower stall, allowing the numerous jets to drench my body in warmth, my thoughts wandered back to my dream. Oddly enough, I could recall every moment with complete clarity—the forest … the laughter … rescuing Amelie … Caden … Jethro’s head in the fire. I shuddered with that last memory, swiftly replacing it with much more pleasant thoughts—those few brief moments of closeness with Caden. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I immediately felt ridiculous. It’s not like he exists, you moron. It wouldn’t matter if he did. He had Rachel. Beautiful, seductive, confident Rachel. I groaned, leaning my forehead against the iridescent cream tile. Even my subconscious is against me.

A short time later I entered the kitchen to find Sofie sitting gracefully on a stool in the kitchen, magazine in hand. As usual, she looked impeccable in a pair of skinny blue jeans and a patterned black and white shirt. In my new stylish gray jeans and loose–fitting pink sweater, I didn’t feel completely inadequate next to her. Only marginally.

“I’m so sorry!” I blurted. “I never sleep in—it must have been that comfy bed.”

Sofie looked up, relief flashing across her face. “That’s quite alright.” Her eyes darted to Max.

“He’s way smarter than I gave him credit for.”

Max glared at me in response, as if understanding.

“Good dog,” I murmured, scratching his chin.

Seemingly mollified, he ambled over to a bearskin rug by the stone hearth and hunkered down with his brothers.

“She’s awake! Finally,” Mortimer grumbled as he entered the kitchen dressed in a charcoal suit, a folded newspaper under one arm. If he’d seemed a little annoyed yesterday, today he was downright irritable. Maybe he’s not a morning person.

I dropped my head in shame and was about to apologize again when Viggo walked in, instantly lifting the dark cloud that Mortimer had brought. “Happy birthday! What are you craving this morning, my darling—waffles; pancakes; steak and eggs? It’s been an eternity since I’ve cooked for someone,” Viggo offered, snatching up a cast iron pan and flipping it effortlessly around in the air.

I glanced at Mortimer, wondering if he wasn’t “someone.”

“Oh, he doesn’t like my cooking. Says it’s too bland,” Viggo explained, giving Mortimer a secretive wink. Mortimer rolled his eyes with annoyance.