Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (86)

I straightened, the urge to shift pulsing. I never wanted to shift in daylight, but lately I couldn’t turn it off. Like my demon had finally grown sick of my human skin and wanted to spend some time, years, decades, just being the monster I was. What was the point of civilized life if I’d found her? Perhaps she was all I was waiting for. “That decision isn’t yours; it’s mine. I decide where she goes, where she sleeps, and where is safe, got it?”

He shook his shoulders silently as I asked, “Why’d you bond to her, huh? Boredom? Tell me.”

“We don’t choose who we bond to. I saw her and knew and now I can do nothing but aid her and look after her. We are not enemies, Ghost. I do not mean to disrespect you.”

My features softened a fraction. “I’ve always liked the birds.”

“We know, and we do not forget.” He turned to watch the shop.

“Are they giving her broom flying lessons yet?”

“She’s getting her things now. Doesn’t seem happy. She’s well but displeased.”

I huffed. “Saw that coming from a mile away. I don’t know why your kind love the witches so much. They’re insufferable know-it-alls.”

The humanoid reached into his trench coat, pulling out a silver hand mirror. “They want to talk to you.”

I glanced at the mirror. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I snatched it from his feathered grip and looked into the reflection. “Speak your nonsense, crone.”

“Nice to see you too, demon.”

“Archdemon,” I corrected, not in the mood for Marcelene’s shit.

Her face, her young face, stared back at me. She looked a lot like her granddaughter, Yesenia, only . . . meaner.

“You must be congratulating yourselves for corrupting this poor girl so quickly. She reeks of your foul darkness.”

“Did you summon me to hear yourself talk, crone, or is there a purpose to this chat? Which, by the way, you could deign to have in person. I won’t hurt you . . . again.”

She cackled, covering her red lips. “Oh, I don’t fear for myself. I fear what I’d do to you, Ghost. And I don’t want to deal with the fallout from your overlords.” She paused and clicked her tongue. “The girl is not a witch, so we don’t owe her our protection.”

I dropped the mirror to my side, ready to give it back to Raven, before I heard it speak again. “However . . .” I pulled it back up, meeting the witch’s scowl. “We like her. There’s something about her that is . . . alluring. I haven’t met a being quite like her before. Her energy—”

“She’s a typical, human girl.” I interrupted. “Whatever you sense off her is from me and my brothers taking her in. I have Claimed her as mine.”

“You think legions and their master followed her to Ash Grove because of your dark rituals, Archdemon? Before she met you?”

Her question was curious and not sarcastic. So, I replied, “It’s possible. You know that some of us see time on a different scale than others. I don’t. However, some of my kind do, as do yours.”

She paused, eyeing me considerably. It’d been a hundred years or more since I’d seen her younger form—the way she looked when I killed her.

“You look the same, too,” she said with a smirk. “Angrier, perhaps.”

“Get out of my thoughts, witch.”

With an exhale, she offered, “The coven will put protection spells around the town. Though I’m curious, Ghost. Do you or your brothers see her?”

I knew what she meant. Could any of us sense her. But the fucking absurdity of it all was that from my smoke, Dragon’s touch, and Wolf’s scent . . . none of us could. Thank the Devil for modern technology and the tracker I put on her car. “No.”

The witch considered me a moment before adding, “Nothing not of Ash Grove will get in, but nothing will get out, either. So make use of this time and watch her closely. Our wards will fall at midnight on Halloween.”

“Always a pleasure talking to the Crone of Moon Halo Coven,” I edged, just to get on her nerves.

She rolled her eyes. “Burn in Hell.”

“Gladly, it’s my favorite thing to do. How about I take you with me next time?”

The mirror went black. I passed it to Raven, who wasn’t even pretending not to listen. Familiars were always nosey as fuck.

The taste of cinnamon played on my tongue and I chuckled. Blythe stomped out of the shop, duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She stopped in front of Raven and me, dropping her bag to the ground. “They’re lunatics. The young ones are nice but the old ones . . . Holy shit.”

I chuckled darkly, pulling her waist flush to me. “I warned you, Little Ghost.”

Her cheeks flushed, and the taste of her arousal seeped into my mouth. “You really waited outside for me all day?”

I shrugged. “Not so different from any other day since you came to town.”

She shook her head. “Stalker.”

“Demon,” I whispered. A small breath left her lips. It turned her on—my darkness. “Raven, take her bag to Lamb’s Blood. I’ve got her today.”

His beak lowered in a bow.

“Thanks, Raven,” she said softly as I held her tighter. The black bird-man shouldered her bag and left toward the church on foot. She giggled. “Won’t people look at him like that?”