Chapter Five

 

He felt the disturbance long before Emma worked up the nerve to call. He paced, eyes on the notepad beside the computer, and stretched. It was nearly two in the morning. He glanced at his phone before sitting once more on the couch and reading his cramped writing filling several pages of the notepad.

Emma’s dream had been much more accurate than he expected.

Adam Merchant committed suicide by jumping off the Bay Bridge, which connected mainland Maryland to the state’s outer banks. The rest he could piece together, with the exception of what made Emma fear the dark. Whatever happened was not available online, in public records, or even in newspapers at the local library, where Lora had kindly agreed to go.

Olivia’s whereabouts were another unknown, though he suspected she wasn’t far from either Emma or from Adam’s likely burial place of Baltimore. He could follow her through the darker side of his abilities once he dug up whatever object she’d tagged in Sissy’s room.

His phone buzzed and hopped. He snatched it and answered.

“Tristan?”

“Yes, Emma.”

“Tristan, Amber and Mama were …” Her voice trembled. “They were in an accident. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I … I …” … need you.

He almost sighed at her thought, even if her voice spoke other words.

“Could you come back?” she asked, with an edge that bespoke her expectation for his rejection. It took great courage for Emma to ask another for help, and Tristan was proud of her despite his irritation.

“Of course, Emma,” he said.

“Thank you, Tristan,” she whispered.

“How are they?”

“Mama’s okay, but Amber is in the ICU.” She regained her control and hid the note of vulnerability. “Sissy and I are here at the hospital. And Isolde. She likes car rides. Tristan, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” he asked, rising. He shut his laptop, grabbed the notepad, and walked to the bedroom, tucking the notepad in his bag. He was changed and ready, his clothes clean, his bed made once more.

“I haven’t been as good to you as you’ve been to me,” she said with a small sigh. “I was thinking about it today. I treat you like you have lice, and you’ve only treated me with respect, and given me a chance when everyone else laughed. Sissy’s alive because of you.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he replied. “I think it’s time for us to have a talk, Emma.”

“I know.” The note of anxiety was back in her voice. “Can you hurry?”

“Yes, Emma.”

“Thank you.”

He gathered his things and left quickly, reaching the hospital as dawn stretched across the sky. He left his bag in the car, aware of the shady characters lingering everywhere. They noticed him, too, and those not fast enough to flee were swallowed by darkness and shadows.

Isolde waited outside the ER doors, guarding them from the shady characters. The dog recognized his scent from a distance and wagged. She rose and sniffed the air as he approached.

“Hello, Isolde,” he greeted her and knelt. “Good girl. Stand guard.” Isolde sat again and butted his arm with her hand. Tristan smiled and handed her the contents of his pocket, a pack of half-eaten crackers, before rising.

He entered the modest-sized hospital, pausing in the ER to greet a sleepy teen manning the information desk. The teen fumbled and stammered under his gaze, so Tristan followed his instincts to the second floor. He pushed through the doors marked ICU into the antiseptic-riddled scents of the hospital. He spotted Emma as he rounded a corner. She stood in the middle of the hall, speaking to two doctors and a nurse. Sissy was asleep in her arms with her cherubic face resting on Emma’s shoulder.

By her profile, Emma was ill herself. Her face was pale, her eyes glazed. He sensed the shadow clinging to her, sensed her distress and apprehension. She nodded to something one doctor said, a queasy look crossing her face. With a weak smile, she handed Sissy to the nurse and moved away, trotting down the hall.

Tristan followed with a frown. Emma darted into the first bathroom she found, holding her mouth. He waited several minutes before opening the door. She leaned over the sink, rinsing her mouth. From the portable dentistry kit resting beside the sink, this was not the first time she vomited. She glanced up and caught sight of him in the mirror. He entered, closed the door, and locked it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said and tucked away a toothbrush before reaching for mouthwash.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you’re mad at me,” she answered after rinsing her mouth once more.

“Right now, I am. All you’ve needed to do was talk to me, and I’ll help you,” he said in agitation. “How are they?”

“Mama will be discharged at eight. She has a sprained wrist and will probably need an MRI for her neck. Amber might have spinal cord damage and …” She cleared her throat. “ … a broken bone or two.”

Tristan’s anger eased at her distress. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said at last. “Being strong. Dealing with the doctors, police, and insurance companies, and Sissy and the freaks.”

“Thank you for calling me.”

“I hope I’m not bothering you. I know you have your own life. I just couldn’t think of anyone else I really wanted you to be here.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been sick?”

“It’s not important,” she said and straightened. “I deserve it.”

“What did the freaks offer you?” he pursued and stepped closer. She pulled her head back to meet his gaze. He saw her debating whether to resist or give.

“Mints,” she said, bitter amusement crossing her features. “Demons like fresh breath, I take it.”

“Let me help you, Emma,” he replied. “You’ll be no more obligated to me than you already are.”

Her bravado faltered, displaying her fear and uncertainty. She nodded, and he offered a hand. She took it.

“This might hurt a little,” he warned with a half smile.

“Famous last words.”

He drew her into him, cupped the back of her neck with one hand and steadied her with his other hand at the small of her back. For once, she didn’t resist him but surrendered.

Tristan kissed her, reveling in the sensations caused by her slightest touch. She relaxed against him, welcoming and yielding. He coaxed her mouth open, savored her taste, then tightened his grip on her.

Tristan felt her tense despite his attempt to be gentle. He released his shadows into her, commanding them to find their brethren and return. Her body shuddered, but he worked her lips, suffusing her with warmth while the shadows within chilled her. She responded almost desperately, and he felt some of her pain and loneliness, distress and yearning. When he withdrew, both of them were breathing raggedly. Tristan released a puff of black smoke above her head.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he squeezed her. Her scent wrapped around him, its subtlety only making him want to be closer to her, to engorge himself on her elusive essence.

“Who supports you while you shoulder the world?” he murmured into her hair.

“I don’t need anyone,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Stubborn girl.”

She pressed herself against him and relaxed, letting him support her.

Incredible. There was no other word for the sensation of having her pliant in his arms, her sultry body pressed against his. It was a tender surrender, one he suspected would not last long, but one he would relish while it did. Tristan memorized her heady scent and softness, her lingering taste in his mouth and her arms around him. He’d never met a woman capable of ensnaring his senses or calming the raging darkness within him.

“Tristan, they’ll never leave my family alone, will they?” she asked.

“I don’t think they will. It’d be much easier for me to protect them and you if you’d trust me enough to tell me who it is that’s after you.”

“I love them so much. I couldn’t bear it if anything else happened,” she whispered. He felt her give like the first drops of rain after the tension of a gathering storm.

“Let’s go talk.”

She nodded in silence.

He took her hand and led them out of the restroom and down the hall until he found a waiting room with no one in it. Emma sat in the chair next to him, looking broken. He squeezed her hand, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“A few years ago, I met this guy named Adam. Total charmer, handsome, sweet, and he seemed so genuine,” she started. “I was a freshman in college, and he was a senior. I was on top of the world that he even noticed me. He was my tutor for math. I hate math, but he made it simple. We started talking then hanging out. I’d heard from friends he might be seeing someone, but I never brought it up, and neither did he. One day, we’d stayed out late at a coffee shop. When he took me home, he kissed me. It was the beginning of this disaster.”

“I take it he wasn’t single,” Tristan said, keeping the anger out of his voice.

“Not even close. He had a few different women,” she said with a frown. “One was Olivia, another freshman. She was kinda strange. She was very goth. I never thought she was a witch, and I never thought such things as black magic existed. She found out about Adam fooling around on her and flipped out. His other girlfriends sort of … disappeared. One moved out of town suddenly, and another one jumped off the Bay Bridge. I don’t know what happened to the third one. She just looked real sick and stopped coming to school. I didn’t think anything about it at the time.

“Adam swore he broke it off with Olivia, that she was a psycho, and it was just us. I believed him. I was really happy with him, and everything seemed so great for about six months. Then he became unreliable, stopped taking my calls, showed up randomly on my doorstep, always looked upset. He was still seeing her, and she’d figured out there was someone else. She found out it was me and confronted me one day. I was shocked. I told her the truth, and she went crazy. Said she’d curse me with awful things. I was just pissed at Adam for lying. I didn’t think anything about it until bad things started happening to me.”

“Like what?”

“The brakes on my car went out like Amber’s did last night. Some guy mugged me in the alley behind our dorm. I couldn’t sleep, because there was always someone waiting for me that wanted to take me away to Hell. Just weird things like that. And every day for a week, she would wait for me outside the dorm and follow me to my first class, screaming in some weird language at me. Total psycho. Anyway, a couple of weeks after I broke it off with Adam, he sent me an email and asked me to meet him on the bridge. Said he left her for good and wanted to marry me. He said he needed a friend. As angry as I was, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.” Her voice grew faint and then faded into silence. She blinked back tears. “I was such a fool.”

“You met him, and he jumped,” Tristan finished for her.

“He said Olivia would kill him if he didn’t do it first. I guess she’d been doing even worse stuff to him than she had to me,” Emma said and cleared her throat. “I called in an anonymous report to the police from a pay phone at a gas station and then packed up all my stuff and left college.” Guilt crossed her features, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Tristan leaned closer to pull her into him. “None of this is your fault, Emma,” he whispered. “You got caught between two very stupid people.”

“I know I didn’t kill him, but I still ran away like a coward!”

“No, you survived for two years until I could find you,” he said. “I have to ask, when you packed up your belongings and brought them to Amber’s, was there anything in there Olivia or Adam had given you?”

“Like what?”

“An object of any kind.”

“Adam gave me all kinds of things. I threw most of them out. He knew I collected geodes and used to buy them for me. Some were too pretty to throw in the trash,” she said and pulled away. “Why? You think I did this to Sissy, because I kept them?”

“Emma, you didn’t do anything!” he said and wiped tears from her cheek. “I think Olivia cursed something Adam gave you without you knowing. It sat in the storage room at Amber’s and was harmless until it came into long-term contact with another person.”

“If he was still alive, I’d push him off that damn bridge!” she said, fire back in her eyes.

He kissed her forehead, unable to resist the temptation.

“You need to get some rest,” he said and withdrew before he lost his will to keep away from her until this was over. He rose and held out his hand.

“I’m not tired,” she told him. She took his hand anyway and let him pull her the short distance to a bank of elevators. “And I want to find Olivia so you can use your weird magic to kick her ass.”

“I’ll take care of Olivia.”

She believed him. Adam was screwing her over even in his death! She wished she’d destroyed everything he gave her. If she had, Sissy would be well, and maybe Olivia would be satisfied with only coming after her.

She gazed up at Tristan, comforted by the closeness of his body and his quiet strength. His gaze was distant as they waited for the elevator. His hard face with its lopsided features was impossible to read, but he’d held her sweetly when she revealed her dark secret. His dark eyes were not black as she first thought but dark brown, the color of dark chocolate.

Tristan looked down at her, and the skin around his eyes softened.

He was a loner. Mama had been correct in that. He seemed genuinely surprised whenever someone asked him how he was or did something thoughtful for him. She felt the cool darkness around him like she had Mr. Winter but wasn’t afraid of Tristan. His eyes were warm and his touch gentle. Whatever he was, whatever she might be suffering from, she was drawn to him with an intensity that frightened her. His touch was familiar, like they’d been lovers in some former life. His taste and scent set her senses ablaze with awareness.

Of all the emotions she felt toward him, gratitude was foremost on her mind. He’d healed Sissy and treated her family well.

The elevator in front of them slid open, and they entered. Emma gazed at him, wishing she knew what to say. She wanted to know more of the man who’d saved the life of someone she loved and provided her more comfort than anyone else ever had. She wanted to ask about his family, why someone so sweet lived in a place like Demon’s Alley, even his favorite color.

How did one converse with an otherworldly being?

How did one converse with men at all? She sighed and looked away. They reached the tenth floor in silence, and she walked from the elevator.

“Nap,” he reminded her, holding open the door with a hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ve gotta make a phone call.”

Thank god! With her gratitude had come an increased awareness of the sexual tension that stretched between them. She needed rest and doubted she’d get it if he went with her. Tristan gave a smoky chuckle, one that tickled the back of her neck and slid over her like a fall breeze. She shuddered and eyed him, once again aware of just how unique this man was. The elevator door closed.

My favorite color is green, like your eyes.

She smiled, the guilt she’d felt for two years at Adam’s death lifted from her thoughts. Tristan hadn’t judged her. He’d been the gentleman Adam was never capable of being.

She did what he suggested and took a short nap in Amber’s room, followed by a shower hot enough to melt her tension. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she stepped out of the shower, the stress would be back. She would face a man that frightened her, an injured mother, and a daughter wondering about her own mother. Worst of all, she would look in the mirror and know who caused everything.

She opened her eyes. It was still dark. She blinked. The light flipped on, then off again. She opened the shower curtain in the tiny hospital bathroom, snatched her towel and wrapped it around her sloppily, and flung open the door.

Sissy stared at her in surprise, her fingers on the wall beside the switch.

“Do that again, and I’ll never take you out for ice cream ever again!” she said, unable to help the fear streaking through her. She glanced up and saw Tristan’s intense eyes skimming over her before she slammed the door. She dressed in the same outfit and left the bathroom, feeling grimy without a change of clean clothes.

“Mama, I think I’ll run to my apartment really fast to get some clothes,” she said as she exited.

“Of course, doodle. I’ll keep Sissy. Tristan will go with you though.”

“You’ll be okay, right, Mama?” she asked, hesitating. She glanced at Tristan. He nodded in reassurance.

“We’ll be fine,” Mama replied. “Go get some real food while you’re out.”

Emma stepped into the hall, feeling uneasy about leaving. Tristan took her hand before she could change her mind and led her down the hall. She said nothing until they were out of the hospital and noticed Isolde lying by the ER doors.

“Oh, angel,” she murmured and released Tristan to cross to the blind dog. Isolde perked and thumped her tail. Emma patted her. “I’ll bring you some food. Don’t let any creeps inside.”

Isolde licked her, and she rejoined Tristan, who smiled. The sky was gray, a strong, cool wind whipping in from the north. She savored it, sensing the threat of rain and thunder. She welcomed the autumn storm. They walked quietly to the car, and she gazed at him as he opened her door.

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you and you know everything about me. What’s your last name?” she asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of her car.

“Chatham.” He smiled as he merged onto the highway. His right hand rested on her thigh once more, and Emma gazed at it, temporarily distracted.

She really did like his hands. Oddly enough, she learned early in life that a person’s hands bespoke much of that person. Tristan’s hands were well-cared for but calloused, strong as a man’s hands should be with round palms.

“Your favorite color?” she asked.

Green, like your eyes. His reply came unbidden into her mind.

“I bet that skill of yours works well cheating at cards,” she said.

“My mother does that in a casino.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d have a mother. You’re too unusual,” she said. “Is your mother like you?”

“No. She’s Italian,” he said with his subtle humor. She gazed at him, not certain if he were joking. He tipped her chin with a half smile.

“Your father?” she continued.

“Never knew him.”

“Siblings?”

“A brother.”

“Good lord,” she muttered.

“He’s normal,” he assured her.

“Tell me something about you, Tristan. Help me believe I didn’t invite the devil into my home,” she said with a sigh.

“I was born in Italy to an Italian mother and a man she refers to only as The Bastard. She had one older son, my brother, named Andre, whose father she calls The First Bastard. We moved to France shortly after my birth, where I lived until I was fifteen. My mother moved to Wooster at that point and bought the shop on Demon’s Alley. I grew up there and have been there ever since.”

“Not married, no kids, no black witch girlfriends you’re not telling me about?” she asked.

“No.”

“Do you like Demon’s Alley?”

“Not especially, but it serves a purpose.”

“What purpose?” she pried.

“I’m with my kind.”

Emma frowned at him. “They’re not your kind, Tristan. They’re hostile, stupid, unfriendly, and wouldn’t give me the time of day. You’re the only person who’s ever helped me.”

“There aren’t many places for people like me, and I’m a freelance occult consultant. Demon’s Alley is the only place I’ve ever fit in,” he replied.

“Tristan, I’m serious. You deserve to be somewhere better. I can see it. I wish you could,” she insisted. “You’re too good of a person, even if you aren’t fully … uh … you’re a better human than full humans.”

“There are two people who think so,” he said with a chuckle. “You and my mother.”

“My family,” she added. “I have a feeling we’re the only people you’ve ever really known, though.”

“I was home-schooled because I terrified the kids in class. Hard to make friends when people fear you. I’m not even sure …” He trailed off. She waited, unable to decipher the emotions on his face.

“I gave up my biggest secret,” she reminded him. “Talk, Tristan.”

He hesitated then sighed. “I’m afraid I won’t always be able to control the evil inside me.”

“It’s evil?” she asked.

“Half of me is. I suppress it, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll always be able to.”

She was quiet, hearing the pain in his voice. It disturbed her to know how tortured his existence had been, never accepting who he was, never finding acceptance anywhere he went. She lifted his hand and kissed it.

“I imagine it helps if you have a good enough reason to want to control it,” she said. He glanced at her, his gaze warming. She would step up to become that reason after all he’d done for her family. While he said nothing, she sensed he was happy with her words.

As they pulled up to her apartment building, she couldn’t help thinking of his apartment.

“I don’t think you’ll like my apartment,” she said in a considering tone. “Why don’t you like color or things on your wall?”

“My mother says I spend too much time in my head to pay attention to the rest of the world,” he said. “And I like your apartment.”

“You’ve been?”

“Mama sent me for your clothes the other day.”

“You got them?” she asked in surprise. “I’m surprised my clutter didn’t throw you out before you got past the front door. I’m sorry, Tristan. I would’ve cleaned if I knew you were going there.”

“A delightful mess,” he said with another small smile. “Much like you.”

“I’m not that bad!” She blushed, about to continue when he raised a hand. His eyes were on the building.

“Wait here.” His voice was low, his eyes sharpening.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Just stay here.” Without another word, he left the car and jogged to the building. He disappeared around the corner.

 

* * *

He recognized the darkness from his time with it in Sissy’s room. What alarmed him, however, was something even more familiar. He took the stairs to Emma’s apartment two at a time and strode in boldly.

His mother’s warning came back to him as he faced the man in the middle of Emma’s living room. Caught off guard, the man who could be his twin dropped the shoebox in his hand and stared.

“I didn’t sense you,” the stranger said. “Who are you?”

“I think it’s evident,” Tristan replied. He sensed the evil lingering in his twin. While Tristan had defeated the darkness he was born with, this man had not. Anger filled him. More than one woman had kept her secrets well from him.

“Is that bitch still alive?” the stranger growled, sharing his thought.

“Our mother is alive.”

“When this is over …”

“What do you want with Emma?” Tristan asked. He closed the door behind him and loosened the boundaries on his darkness. It stretched, ready.

Feeling it, the stranger straightened to face him directly, dark eyes narrowing. “I don’t give two shits about her. A friend, however, does.”

“She’s mine.”

“I won’t let you ruin my plan, blood or not.”

“Your plan?”

“To return home to our father. The bitch Olivia cracked the gateway to Hell. I can’t enter until …” Aware he said too much, his twin fell silent. “We can both go home to Father.”

A different kind of coldness swept through Tristan as understanding of his twin’s intention became clear. Human sacrifices. He’d heard of the practice among those obsessed with devil worshipping.

“Why Emma?” he asked. “Why not just anyone?”

“Olivia fell into my lap with her sights set on Emma. She’s taking a life for a life. I needed a spell powerful enough to give me what I want.”

Tristan frowned, suddenly wishing he could speak to his mother about the dark magic. Before he could ask anything else, the shadows around him stirred, and he was slung into the wall. The blow made his mind explode in lights. The shadows dragged him down. Too startled to respond, Tristan struggled against the shadows, before his twin charged him and knocked him flat. His head spun, and his blurred vision showed the man raising his clenched fist for another blow.

He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

 

* * *

She couldn’t sense what he did but was made nervous by his own sudden unease. Tristan could handle anything. She exited the car and circled around to the driver’s seat. He’d left the keys in the steering column, and she started the car. Feeling anxious, she focused on finding her favorite radio station.

She didn’t see the stranger approach until he’d whipped open her car door. Startled, Emma stared up at a man who looked much like Tristan, except his hair was long, his nose was pierced, and his eyes lacked any sort of human warmth. Shadows didn’t cling to him as they did Tristan; they swirled, cold and menacing.

“Olivia’s waiting for you,” the man said.

She reached for the door but he caught her arm in a tight grip and pulled her out of the car. Emma slammed one fist on the horn before she was out of reach. The snowman stood waiting with another shadowy creature in black. Fear exploded within her, and she opened her mouth to call for Tristan.

The man who looked like Tristan shoved her to her knees before she could make a squawk then pushed her onto her stomach with a foot planted in her back. He forced a gag around her head and tied her hands before hooding her.

Tristan! She cried out to him with her mind.

One of the three picked her up and tossed her in the backseat of a car. She heard the engine start and squirmed in the cramped area, panicked. And then they were driving. The car rocked back and forth as they turned out of the community to reach the main roads.

Tristan didn’t come. Was it possible the twin-like man and his two shadow-men had done something to him?

They drove for a while, long enough for her tears to dry. The interior of the hood darkened as afternoon turned to evening. Renewed fear gripped her at being faced with the dark once more. The smooth sound of freeway beneath the car turned again to rocking as it left the highway for an unknown destination. The car halted, and awareness overtook her again. While traveling tied up in the backseat of a car was miserable, whatever awaited her was worse.

Someone hauled her out by her feet. The hood tore, and fire tore down her cheek as it scraped the rough asphalt and then dirt. Tears of pain filled her eyes. Whoever dragged her finally took mercy on her and lifted her up a set of three stairs then into a house smelling of marijuana. She peered through the rip in the hood as they passed a great room lit by a quiet television and through a kitchen that smelled of cinnamon laced with sulfur. A door slammed open, and they were descending into a basement. The scent of sulfur grew more intense until it burned her nose. It smelled and felt like the basement was on fire.

Tristan’s twin slung her down on hard cement and pulled off her hood. Her gaze went first to the strange crack emanating heat in the wall, behind which fire glowed. Shadow creatures shifted in the poorly lit basement.

He hauled her up and steadied her. Her eyes fell to the sickly figure of a woman before him. If not for the bright eyes, she never would’ve recognized Olivia. The once beautiful woman had shrunk and grown gaunt. Her skin was patchy and her eyes ringed with black. Her hair and teeth had become yellow.

“At last!” the black witch breathed. “I have you at last.” Her eyes glowed with madness. Emma couldn’t look away, horrified by the change in the woman. Olivia drew nearer, raised a hand, and slapped her hard.

“We won’t have much time,” Tristan’s twin said.

“Now you’re the jealous bitch,” Olivia said, oblivious. She gripped and ungripped the knife in her hand. “Jeffrey has made me more beautiful than you ever were. Adam won’t leave me this time.”

Confused, Emma looked from the hideous woman in front of her to Tristan’s twin, whom she called Jeffrey. There was ridicule in his gaze as he took in the black witch. He took Olivia’s hands and drew her toward him.

“You’re right, Olivia. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, and neither has Emma,” he purred. His gaze went to Emma and sharpened in warning.

Emma chewed the gag. They were both crazy! Olivia, who had no idea Jeffrey was destroying her, and Jeffrey, who was some sort of half-demon like Tristan. Unlike Tristan, Jeffrey had no ounce of human mercy in his hard gaze.

“We don’t have much time,” he said again. “And you want Adam here soon, don’t you?”

“My sweet Adam will be with me again soon,” Olivia said and faced Emma again. “And this time, no one will come between us.” She raised the knife toward Emma’s face and took a step forward.

“Of course not,” Jeffrey agreed. “You’ll have him for all eternity. But we must follow the spell.” He pushed Olivia’s hand away from Emma. “I’ll tie her down to the altar while you prepare yourself. You want to look perfect for when Adam returns.”

Olivia’s face turned from anger to joy at the mention of Adam. She handed him the knife and whirled without another word, heading up the stairs. Alone with the half-demon and the shadows, Emma took a step back.

Jeffrey faced her and took in her features with his sharp gaze. “I see why my brother claims you as his. You are his opposite.” By the flare of hate in his eyes, any connection to Tristan would only make her life worse.

He circled her, knife in hand, and she moved away from him until her back hit the wall.

“Pretty, strong.” He moved in front of her again. “Pure. The things I would do to you. You’re not as beautiful as Olivia when I found her. I could give you anything, beauty, wealth …” He paused. What felt like a cool breeze passed through her mind. “I’ll kill her for you. Even I wouldn’t target a child.”

She shook her head.

“She’ll go after your whole family once she’s done with you. I can help you stop her.” He maneuvered her until her back was to him and sliced her hands free and then her gag. “Tristan can go back to the attic where he hides. I’ll leave him alone and make sure your sister and mother are well cared for. You’re broke, Emma, and your sister has spent her savings on doctors for that brat.” He leaned close to her, whispering into her ear. “I’ll fix everything, Emma.”

Emma squeezed her eyes closed, terrified of moving. Fear for Sissy and Amber made her chest tight and her breathing difficult. He said all the right words, but the creature behind her would do to her what he’d done to Olivia. He’d destroy Tristan and her family while deluding her into believing the opposite.

“No,” she whispered.

“You’d rather I tie you down next to Adam’s corpse, drain your blood, then slaughter everyone you love? Because I will, Emma.” His voice was still soft. His words made her gasp.

“Tristan-- ” she started.

Jeffrey snatched her neck and dragged her across the basement. Light and dark spun as she struggled to stay on her feet. He thrust her downward and held her. Instinctively, her hands shot out to brace herself. One hit a cool cement slab and the other …

“Oh, god!” she cried, focusing on the decomposed body Jeffrey held her inches from. Her left hand had landed in what had been Adam’s thigh. She flung it free, near hyperventilating despite the scent of decomposition.

“This is what you choose?” Jeffrey demanded, pushing her closer. She strained to keep herself upright and from toppling into Adam. “Answer me!”

“I won’t do it!” she shouted. The air shimmered with his anger. Jeffrey hauled her up and shoved her down hard on the altar next to Adam. He tied her hands and arms spread-eagled.

“Before this is over, you’ll choose me,” Jeffrey snarled. “I’ll make sure of it!”

Her chest heaved in fear, and tears leaked from her eyes. As she heard him storm up the stairwell she closed her eyes, too aware of how close she was to Adam’s body.

Tristan!