Meanwhile, Jasper claws at his throat, silent tears streaking through the blood and foam on his face.
I volley my gaze between the two of them then pantomime eating popcorn. I honestly have no idea what popcorn tastes like, but I like to imagine. Crunchy, probably. And I know most have a buttery flavor.
Now what doesbuttertaste like?
My mouth waters at just the thought.
“How could you cheat on me with my own goddamn sister?” The succubus bares her teeth at the sobbing vampire.
“Yeah, you tell him, girlfriend!” I fist-pump the air then take another bite of my imaginary snack. “Cut off his lying, cheating dick and feed it to a shark. Of course, you’ll have to buy a shark first, but…semantics.”
“P-please.” Jasper can barely get that one word out.
The poison in the succubus’s blood is already coursing through his system. If I have to hazard a guess, I would say he only has a few minutes left to live.
Even as I think that, a white orb coagulates beside the bed, slowly taking form until it vaguely resembles a humanoid male. Then, the features become more defined—sharp nose, square jawline, bushy eyebrows.
On the bed, Jasper releases one last rattling exhale and then goes still.
Besidethe bed, the ghost version of Jasper blinks erratically, his gaze dancing from his body, to his lover, and then finally landing on me. Shock and horror bleed into his monochromatic gray gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” He doesn’t sound scared yet, just confused.
I imagine it’s a shock for him to be wrenched out of his body and thrown into the world of darkness and shadows. A lot of times, it takes the spirit a few minutes to even understand what happened in the first place.
“Jasper.” I huff out a deep, heavy inhale, followed by a shortened exhale in a piss-poor attempt to mimic Darth Vader. “I am your father.”
Another exaggerated breath.
His brows draw together, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. No one ever understands my sense of humor—if you can even call it that. “Insanity” is another descriptor I’ve heard used once or twice.
The dagger in my hand begins to glow even brighter, and Jasper’s eyes dip to the weapon in shock. Then that shock quickly morphs into toe-curling fear, his eyes widening and his skin losing color. Well, more color. I don’t know why all the ghosts show up as some variation of white, black, and gray, but it’s almost as if the second their souls leave their bodies, so does their color.
The pulling sensation—like someone wrapped a cord around my heart and is tugging relentlessly with both hands—becomes impossible to ignore. The air around me practically crackles with electricity. Raw, unencumbered power eats at my veins.
This is going to suck.
It always does, each new soul destroying a piece of me.
Literally.
“Please. No.” Jasper shakes and cries, lifting his hands in the air as if he has a chance in hell of fending me off. “Take her! She’s the bitch who killed me!”
He points at the succubus, who is still monologuing over her lover’s corpse.
But my feet move of their own accord, and a drum pounds between my ears.
“Please! Please! No! No!” His crying ceases when I slam the dagger into his chest.
Almost immediately, tingles radiate up my arm in a way I imagine an electric shock would. I shake from the intensity of it, gritting my teeth to keep from screaming in pain.
Voices barrage me from every direction.
“We’re back…”
“Did you think we would let you go?”
“We’re watching. Always.”
