Ghost drives out to the Tilbury Manor hotel. It appears out of nowhere from amongst the trees, but I’ve driven out here before so I’m used to it by now.
There are stone dragons weaving in between the banister as we climb the steps and enter the hotel. Ember’s just crossing the lobby, dressed as if it’s summer. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a pretty tank top, and has her skates pulled over one shoulder and her duffel bag over the other.
Like Xavi—the thought of whom makes my chest hurt—Ember never seems to get cold. Lucky fire Kitsune. Though the thought of her on the ice without a coat is always enough to send a chill through me.
“Off to practice?” I raise an eyebrow. Because when is Ember ever not off to figure skating practice?
“Yeah. I’m running late. Garrick’s going to kill me.” She rummages for something in her bag and doesn’t even seem to notice Ghost.
“You say that every time,” I point out.
“That’s because it’s true. And I can’t find my car keys.” She resumes her search. “Oh, there they are. Listen, I have to run. But I’ll call you later. Promise.”
I kind of wish I could talk to her now, but Ghost is still waiting and Garrick’s no joke, so I nod.
“Friend of yours?” Ghost asks as she races out of the hotel.
“None of your business.” I push past him and lead the way up the stairs.
I already know my way around. I’ve visited Ember a few times, and I helped Lupine and Enzo clean the place up when it opened.
Ghost gestures for us to go left at the top of the stairs. He unlocks the door to his room and invites me to go in first. Like he’s being a freaking gentleman. Or sending me to scope the place out in case an attacker’s inside.
The room looks like a mirrored image of Ember’s, with a large bed in the center and a desk on the opposite wall.
Ghost closes the door behind us, and then he stops and stares at me.
“Well?” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Where’s my money, and what did you find?”
Ghost shakes his head. “Look, Wyn. I just want us to talk.”
“So talk. About the thief.”
“Not about the thief. About us.”
“Us? There is no us. There hasn’t been an us since you tried to sabotage my admissions test.”
For a second, I think Ghost will try to argue, but he sighs instead. “I’m sorry I cost you a job at the agency. But I was just—”
“You didn’t cost me the job. If anything, they wanted me more.”
“What?” He goes still, every muscle tense. Like a predator ready to strike. Because even though we both quit, he’s still a jealous Ghosthole. Just like he always was.
“You really thought they’d kick me out for manipulating a lie detector test during exams?” I roll my eyes. “Once you told them I could do it, all they saw was potential. How I could infiltrate criminal rings no one else could. Get past any truth spells. So guess what? While you were stuck chasing skips across Canada in your snowmobile, I was in Europe. Paris. London. Rome.”
“You… worked for the agency? In Europe? But you’re… here. You’re a maid!”
“I am a maid and proud of it.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Now, unless you’re going to tell me something useful about the thief, I’m out of here.”
“Wyn, please. Just give me a chance to explain.”
“You had your chance. At St. Vincent’s. But you weren’t even sorry. You just walked away.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty.” I head for the door, but a gust of wind spins me around. I lash out, even though it’s pointless. I punch and kick only to end up with my back against the door.
“Remember how good things were between us?” Ghost asks softly as he pins my arms above my head from across the room. Stupid, invisible magic.
“All I remember is how you betrayed me.” How Xavi—sweet, innocent Xavi—sold me out. How Leith led me on and then flew away.
Is there something wrong with me? Something that makes men do this? Or maybe the spell in those skates wasn’t a fated mates spell after all. Maybe the skates are cursed, and maybe the spell links me to men I should never trust. Ghost. Xavi. Leith. Men who’ll turn on me.
“You are an asshole, Terentius White,” I shout. “You tried to get me expelled, and then you dumped me like I meant nothing.” And broke my heart. “Then you come back and destroy my friends’ cafe? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t want to destroy it.”
“Let me guess. It was my fault? Just like it was my fault for cheating at St. Vincent’s? Are you going to tell me you were just doing the right thing? Again? Well, do the right thing now, let me go, and get out of my life.”
Ghost hesitates, and for a second, the magic pinning me to the wall wavers. But he shakes his head. “I can’t. I—”
“You don’t get to make that choice. I do.” And I’m about to show him. With magic.
There isn’t much to work with in the old-fashioned hotel room. Sheets on the bed. A pillow. An empty desk. A chair. An open suitcase with a change of clothes.
I think fast and send the chair zooming in behind Ghost. It slams into the backs of his knees and he drops into it with a gasp of surprise. He tries to scramble to his feet, but a bed sheet wraps around his waist, holding him in place. He barely gets a chance to protest when a brown sock zooms out of his suitcase and flies into his mouth.
The Ghosthole reaches up to pull it out, and his pants zoom out of his suitcase, each leg twisting around one wrist and tying them behind his back. He tries to stand, with the entire goddamn chair, and two sweaters punch him in the chest. He falls back with a grunt and they wrap around his ankles, tying them to the chair legs, so there’s absolutely no escape.
“What are you going to do now?” I taunt. His eyes narrow on me, and his magic spreads my legs and pins them to the wall. I roll my eyes. “Tell you what, if you release me, I might consider letting you go.”
He doesn’t. He tries to spit the sock out one more time. When that doesn’t work, a gust of wind cups my mouth like a hand, silencing me like I’ve silenced him.
Now we’re both tied down. Gagged. Stuck like that until one of us gives in. We stare each other down, but we’ve both worked for the agency. We don’t give up. We don’t give in.
Sure, Ghost could form an airless sphere around me again. I’d pass out, but it wouldn’t untie him. Though I’m sure someone would eventually come to his rescue. And arrest him for murder.
And I could suffocate him with a pillow—which would free me—but I could never harm Ghost. Even if he could harm me.
Except harming me is the last thing on his mind. When his magic grazes me, it’s a soft caress. The air cups my cheek. Brushes my hair. Wraps around my waist and hugs me close.
It’s a silent apology, or maybe I’m just reading into it. Either way, it’s too little, too late.
I shake my head in a silent no. Ghost grimaces and the air sets me free. But just before it dissipates, it grazes my neck. And that one small, invisible touch makes my body ignite.