“Consultant,” Lara murmured, swallowing the lump of bile rising in her throat.
“Consultant.” Milo’s mouth curved around the word as a cloud of darkness flowed across his face. “Imagine the things I could make you do, to him, to yourself... You’d be powerless to stop me.”
“I’ll bring you someone else,” the words burst from her mouth, fueled by the depraved images of Milo using her body for his pleasure flickering through her mind.
“Not someone,” he sneered. “I want Mr. Broxsby.”
“But that's dangerous!” she protested. “He works with the police. If you fail, how will I dispose of his body?”
“That is a problem.” Milo released her and floated backward. He vanished, his voice echoing around the room, “I suggest you make damn sure I don't fail this time.”
Her phone appeared in the doorway, levitating in the empty space. She glowered at it. “I want your word that when the possession of Mr. Broxsby fails, you'll allow me the time I need to further research why these men keep dying.”
Milo's outline flared, his hand crushing the phone. “You seem awfully certain of my shortcomings. Perhaps you just need some motivation.”
“I'm agreeing to help you kill a fourth innocent, no one wants you to succeed more than I do.” She held out her hand.
“No one is innocent, love.”
“I was,” she replied, her voice barely carried across the space between them. Milo tilted his head, as if confirming her declaration.
“You will be again,” he replied, setting the phone in her hand. “Once I have a new body, we’ll continue our lives together, as husband and wife.”
“And the whole murder thing?” Her gaze skipped to the sunflower patch, which cast long shadows across the yard. She hadn’t succeeded in freeing herself from Milo when she killed him, she’d merely increased his appetite for possession.
“A misunderstanding, something we’ll laugh about in five years.”
“Of course,” she replied too quickly and felt Milo's attitude shift from charming to irritated. Before he could react, she dug Cassius' business card from her back pocket and dialed the first few digits.
“What’s this?” Milo ripped the card from her hand and spun it between his thumb and forefinger, the black gloss coating caught the fading afternoon light.
“Mr. Broxsby’s phone number,” Lara snapped, reaching for the card. Milo hovered higher, dangling it above her head.
“And how did you manage to finagle this delightful piece of information?” Milo’s voice took on a dangerously soft tone, like velvet wrapped around a razor blade.
“He gave it to me when we were in the attic.” A wrinkle carved its way across her forehead. “I thought you were listening to us.”
“I was,” Milo replied immediately.
That couldn’t be true. Otherwise, he would have heard Cassius tell her to call him at any time. Was it possible that Milo wasn’t in the house? And if so, where had he gone?
“Call him.” Thrusting the business card back into her hand, Milo whirled a small circle around Lara. The air crackled with his excitement. “Invite him to dinner—your cooking can disarm any man—tell him you need to discuss something you remembered about the accident.”
“And what did I remember?” Lara’s thumb froze over the last digit of Cassius’ phone number; her gaze followed Milo.
“Who cares? Between the food and your body, he’ll never remember the original reason he visited.”
“Not every man is as easily as distracted as you.”
Milo snorted. He floated closer; his black eyes slid over her face. A peculiar smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Reaching out, he wove his fingers through her hair, wrapping his hand around the back of her head. He jerked her body flush against his; it felt as if she’d plunged into a frozen pond.
“You better hope you catch his attention,” his mouth scraped over her ear. “Or else...”
“Or else what?” she asked, shivering in his ghostly embrace. The phone clattered to the floor. Her heart raced. She wouldn’t be able to overpower Milo if he possessed her.
“Or else I’ll show you how to seduce a man.” Milo’s grip tightened, squeezing the oxygen from Lara’s chest. “And you won’t enjoy what I let him do to your body.”
“I understand,” she replied through a clenched jaw. “Now, let me go. I have a phone call to make.”
“I will never let you go, Lara,” Milo hissed. He pressed his mouth to her forehead and vanished. A rush of oxygen expanded her lungs.
She collapsed on the floor, dragging her knees into her chest. Rocking back and forth, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. He’d said it... aloud. He would never let her go. But he would underestimate her again, she just had to wait long enough for him to become human. Then, she would disappear, and he’d never be able to find her.
Beside her the phone glowed, illuminated when the final digit of Cassius’ phone number was pressed by Milo’s unseen finger. Cassius’ faint voice came through the speaker.
Jerking up her head, Lara glanced at the phone and gasped, recognizing the name on the caller ID. Her stomach somersaulted as Cassius spoke again.
“Lara, is that you?”
She snatched the phone off the floor. “I-I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother.” He was silent for a moment. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m frightened.”
Terrified would be a more accurate description. Cassius should be also...
“What happened?” There was a tightness in Cassius’ reply, as if he’d been expecting her call.
“I heard a noise outside.”
“A noise?” His voice dripped with disbelief.
“I live alone, Mr. Broxsby—”
“Cassius,” he replied.
“Cassius,” she acknowledged his correction, climbed off the floor, and paced the bedroom. “Look, I just lost my fiancé, and I realize my silly concerns aren’t important enough for the police to investigate, but I was hoping...”
Her gaze flicked to the window. With the darkness of evening, the window had turned to a mirror, highlighting the haunting desperation bleeding from her eyes.
“You were hoping the consultant was free?” he asked, his deep voice taking on a teasing tone.
“I’ll bribe you with dinner.”
“Would that include a side of poison?”
“If you read my case files, you’d know none of my fiancés died from poison.”
“I did, and I do.” He sighed. “What are you making?”
“Take out.”
Cassius laughed. The warm sound vibrated through the speaker, melting the block of ice which had formed in the pit of Lara’s stomach.
“Only if it’s pizza,” he said.
“Any particular topping?” she asked, unable to keep the grin from her face.
“Anything but garlic, hate the stuff.”
“Agreed.” The smell was enough to make her gag, it was rare to meet someone who hated it as much as she did. “How soon can you be here?”