What’s that supposed to mean?
That’s the question, isn’t it? What does it mean?
“I bet you have questions. Would you like to speak to him?” Louisa rose, her smile shaky.
“I—”
“Jakob!” Louisa hissed in a stage whisper.
To Grace’s shock, the man turned.
He heard her whisper from halfway across the library.
“Yes, dear?” Mr. Minegold asked, his voice beautiful and smooth, lilting with a trace of some European accent. When he turned and focused on her, his smile was the perfect mix of curiosity and courtesy—and his eyes glinted red.
Just a trick of the light.
Right?
“That’s okay,” Grace squeaked. “I was only supposed to be here for a few hours. I have to go!”
She turned and bolted for her car, heart flying, making her feel as though a hummingbird had taken up residence in her chest.
Oddly enough, the “humans” in town frightened her more than the strange, shadowy being haunting the halls of her home.
Chapter Eleven
“Nyx!”
Her wail dragged him from his hiding place in the corner, a slender inch of blackness beside the wainscotting near her bed. His prison.
It hurt to move, it hurt even to hold himself in one form.
He’d wanted to battle.
He hadn’t expected to almost lose.
He didn’t have a clear head or a clear heart. All he had were claw marks and teeth marks, invisible to every eye, black on black wounds that ached and throbbed, and made him long to give up. Maybe if he sank into that abyss, maybe if he just let them win... They could rip him to pieces, and he’d just end.
Or maybe he’d become one of them.
Maybe he’d always be doomed to come back, and each time he’d be more monster and less man.
Grace’s cry and frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs undid his self-pity for the moment.
