Beautifully Broken (21 page)

I turned back to my best friend. “I’m just glad you’re safe, Ari. The demon already snatched your older sister—so not in any real danger. I think.” I shoved my cell back into my purse. “I’m not positive who’s next, but I need to figure it out.” Before I turned on the engine, I looked Ariana in the eyes and added, “Because I think it’s me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next day, my eyes were puffy from crying about Jada. I put on big dark sunglasses and avoided meeting anyone’s gaze when I arrived at Ravenhurst. But I wasn’t going to stay away from Ravenhurst. Not when my life was in danger no matter where I went. Not when I could possibly find answers within its walls and make Esael go away.

On a massive structure, such as Ravenhurst, the restoration process was demanding work. Evans had hired carpenters to restore the crumbling chimneys, shutters, and repaint the exterior. They barely finished one project before commencing on another. Today Evans was in a bad mood because three men had quit, so I stayed out of his way. He had a hard time finding workmen that would stay longer than a week or two. And really, who could blame them?

In the library, I read another chapter of
Crowley’s Demon Index
, then placed it on the shelf with the other tomes on the paranormal.

The room pulsated with energy. Dark energy. As if it was alive, breathing and writhing in pain. Or maybe it was mirroring my emotions. Beneath my feet, the hardwood floor grumbled with power like a sleeping beast. The loud furnace was its beating heart.
There is power here. Oh yes, I feel it.
The energy traveled through the floorboards, seeping past my pink Doc Martens and into my skin.

I stretched and went into the adjoining bathroom to touch up my makeup before Trent got home from class. After applying glitter to my cheekbones (my signature sparkle), I changed into ripped-up black leggings with a jean mini-skirt. Then I slipped on an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder and added a pair of ballet flats I’d brought with me, then a hoodie to conceal my mark. Having to wear long-sleeves in the summertime sucked.

In the foyer, the grandfather clock said five-fifteen. The chandelier overhead stirred, though there wasn’t a draft. A soft lullaby floated into the room, startling me.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”
The temperature dropped. A glacial blast whipped through the rooms.

 
“Chilly wind?
So not scary
.” I put my hands on my hips and stared at the vaulted ceiling. “Whatcha you gonna do? Chap me to death?”

I know, brave words coming from a chicken like me. Show no fear, Evans said. Whatever.

I strained my ears for a hint of song. Instead I heard
thump, thump, thump
sound from the staircase. A doll’s head bounced and landed near my shoe. A cracked porcelain face with glass eyes stared up at me. The doll stirred a sick fear in the pit of my stomach. I kicked the head across the room and climbed the stairs.

“And if that diamond ring turns brass, Momma’s gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke…”

I took the steps two at a time, humming the melody. Upstairs, I wandered the halls. Hardwood floors moaned beneath my feet. My blood coursed through my veins like an awakened river. I embraced my slab of granite-like resolve and marched onward. Another muggy day and my clothes already clung with perspiration. Visions of tall, cold diet sodas danced in my head. From an open window, the thuds of hammering, the hum of a lawnmower, and the casual chitchat of the workmen getting ready to quit for the day floated upstairs.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”

I entered a new corridor, letting the ghostly music wafting from the abandoned corners of the house lead the way. The lullaby became steadily louder, drawing me toward the eastern wing. My pace slowed when I entered the next hallway and saw the shadows. They detached into four small upright blobs. Whispers, cajoling words filled my ears. My gaze followed the black rustling shapes. The shadowy creatures slunk ahead, squeezing beneath a door on my left. I twisted the knob. Locked.

The music stopped. Silence as quiet as a sleeping infant blanketed Ravenhurst.

Then the door slowly opened by itself. It revealed a narrow stairwell and another closed door at the top. Again, I felt that chill. It raced up and down my spine, made the hairs on my arms stand up. My foot paused on the first step when the crunch of a car on the gravel road signaled Trent’s return. Forget paranormals and things that go bump in the night. Trent was back.

Attraction is a damnable thing. And my raging hormones are definitely in charge!

I pounded downstairs and reached the foyer just as Trent walked through the door, looking extra smoking hot in a pair of damaged jeans and a black shirt made of the softest Egyptian cotton.

“Hey you.” He moved past me toward the kitchen. “Is there any food? I’m starving.”

I trailed behind him. “Yeah, there should be plenty of munchies.”

Trent opened the refrigerator door, staring at its contents.

“Trent I think someone is in the house. Upstairs. I heard music—a lullaby.”

Trent closed the door, his expression darkened. “It was probably Evans or one of the maids.”

“I don’t think so. Evans left hours ago to meet a client.”

“Then what was it? A poltergeist?” He laughed, but it rang hollow.

“Yes. Several in fact.”

The longest, most abysmal silence fell between us.

Tears leaked from my eyes, and I hiccupped. “You’re seriously gonna stand there and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?” I slumped in a chair at the table and buried my face in my hands. “Am I the only one this is happening to?” I cried, my face hidden in my hands. “And I thought
I’d
been in denial.”

 
“God, I sound like such a tool. I didn’t mean to be harsh.” Trent tugged my hands away from my face. He placed his finger beneath my chin and forced me to look up. “No, you’re not…” He sighed, as if reluctant to say more.

I blinked back the flood of tears threatening to ruin my mascara and leave me looking like a raccoon.
Who wants to look all weepy, red-nosed, and snotty in front of their crush?

I hiccupped. “Wh—what are you saying?”

“A maid…mentioned one or two occurrences.” He disappeared into the pantry and returned with a box of Kleenex. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. “But she says they only happen when she’s alone.” He began pacing. “I don’t get it. I’ve never seen anything supernatural. Just those odd drafts—but hey, this is a big, old house and drafty. And I guess, no one would argue that Jada’s disappearance is a tad freaky.”

Is he finally coming around? Starting to believe the rumors?

“What do
you
think happened to Jada?”

Trent sighed wearily. “I have no idea. Serial killer? Some crazed cult, stealing bodies? Who knows?” He shrugged.

“Is there someone else living here?”

He ignored my question. “I’m worried about you, Shiloh.”

“Me too,” I mumbled.

Trent closed the space between us and gathered me in his arms, holding me tight. He kissed my forehead. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I do know one thing. You’re definitely not boring.”

Or normal,
I wanted to add. But I left it alone. Being in his arms was comforting. Nice. Safe. Warm. He smelled of Irish Spring soap and fresh laundry. His mouth found mine, his crushing kisses deepened, and his tongue parted my lips, sending shivers of desire racing through me.

Trent released me, and it took an effort not to cling to him. “Let’s order takeout and stay in tonight.”

We played blackjack until the doorbell chimed. Trent threw down an ace and a ten of hearts, grabbed his wallet, and strode toward the door. He returned carrying a large paper sack, which he set on the counter. I laid my napkin in my lap and my stomach made a loud grumble. He dished out the food from the cartons, and the scent of sweet and sour chicken, steamed rice, and vegetables tickled my nostrils and made my mouth water. He handed me a plate laden with food and poured us two glasses of soda.

 
“How are your advanced summer classes going?” I asked between bites.

“Excellent. How’s interning?” Trent bit into a spring roll.

Oh…still learning the usual stuff: Ghost Hunting 101, how to cleanse a haunted house, break curses and recognize different types of demons. Super fun. Not.

“Excellent.”

Once we devoured the food, Trent stretched and stood. “Let’s hang in my room and watch TV.” He captured my hand and we headed upstairs.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Trent asked as we reached the landing.

“Ravenhurst is nearly finished. What were you thinking?”

“About
you
.”

Oh, wow.
Butterflies kicked up a racket in my belly.

In his bedroom, Trent lit two candles on his dresser, which illuminated the room in a soft glow. He shut and locked the door. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, but I didn’t say anything. His room resembled an ad for Pottery Barn. I sat on the rumpled sheets of the queen-sized bed that had a lofty headboard with built-in shelves that were overflowing with books and clutter. In one corner was an arcade game with a snowboard propped against it. A huge beanbag and an Xbox sat before the flat screen TV. Clothes and textbooks littered the floor, CDs were strewn near the stereo, and posters of bikini-clad girls covered one light blue painted wall.

Instead of turning on the TV, Trent sat next to me. He took my hand, his fingers softly playing on my skin. I hardly noticed how close we were sitting together.

“Truthfully…you’ve
never,
ever seen anything remotely spooky in this house? Heard anything strange?” I asked, my heart thudding hard against my ribs.

“You talk too much.” He claimed my lips, crushing me against his chest. Gently pushing me back on the bed, he draped one leg over mine. His lips seared a trail from my neck to my shoulders. My body and mind descended deeper in the tide of his hungry kisses. I was surprised by my eager reaction to the touch of his lips, his hands. I kissed him slow and deep. Trent’s hands traveled upwards to lift my sweater. I admit. I panicked. My hands found his and I stopped him.

“What is it?” his voice was husky with passion.

I leaned up on my elbows. “I have…this scar. I’m sorta sensitive about it.”

“Let me see.”

“It’s…ugly.”

“
Nothing
about you is ugly, Shiloh. See this scar on my lip?” Trent pointed to the faint, discolored blemish on his lip that ended in a jagged line at his jaw.

I nodded, chin touching my chest. “That’s nothing.”

“Let me see it.” His fingers played with my sleeve. “I have ugly scars too. Except you could say mine are all psychological.” He laughed, but it sounded sad. Hollow.

Sitting up, I pushed his hand away. “Oh…those are not good.”

“Yeah, it’s because my mom died. I didn’t get a chance to know her. It makes me think about, you know, how fragile life really is.” Trent kissed my cheek. “It’s okay. You don’t have to show me.”

He eased me back down onto the bed and lavished kisses on my face, neck, and shoulders. He positioned his body over mine and grinded intimately against me. My heart pounded an erratic rhythm, and my body heated up in place I didn’t realize it could. I became conscious of everywhere his warm flesh touched mine. Kissing Trent was a wild experience for me. I couldn’t think, could barely breathe while his lips were pressed to mine and he was kissing me so thoroughly.

The kisses and the dry humping got hotter and more aggressive. Trent’s roaming hands slid across my skirt to my hips, then moved to stroke my ripped-up leggings below my skirt. One hand cradled my head, while the other crept to my thigh, then sunk between them.

Another quiver of panic hit me. “Stop. Trent, please.” I moved his hand. “It’s too soon.”

He sat up, his handsome features flushed with passion. He was breathing fast. “What’s wrong? You know I like you.”

“I know.” I turned on my side, propped up on one elbow. “Sorry. I want to…but you’re going too fast,” I warned, then leaned away.

He smiled smugly. “I can’t help it—I’m a guy—”

“I know. You have needs, blah, blah, blah.”

He laughed, and I tried hard not to let his extreme hotness make me change my mind about slowing down. “Well, yeah—smarty.” His mesmerizing emerald gaze clung to mine, causing me to swallow hard. His voice, deep and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness into my veins. “Come here.” When I shook my head, he said softly, “Don’t be like that. Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

“Love?” I arched one brow. “Don’t you mean lust, big boy?”

He laughed again. “I meant
love
.”

“No. Have you?”

“Never. But something’s happening to me. Because I think about you all the time,” he said, his voice strange, thick. “I know it sounds dumb, but it feels like some magical force is drawing us together.”

I knew what he meant. His smile alone brightened my sad existence. Like I’d been muddling through a dark reality only to bask in his beauty.

 
“C’mon, don’t be mad.” I sniffled and wiped my nose with my sleeve.

“I’m not…just…” Trent’s face was a mask of frustration. He noticed my eyes had blurred with tears and mumbled, “Great. Now I feel like a tool. Don’t cry. I understand, and I don’t want to do anything you don’t…it’s just…you’re such a good kisser. And you’re driving me wild.” His fingers curled over mine. He tipped my head toward his.

I stared into those gorgeous eyes, sensing something inexplicably turbulent seething beneath his fair features.

“Trent? Do you love me?” I held my breath. Candlelight frolicked on the walls. Shifting, I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Trent?”

“I heard you…I’ve never really loved anyone before.” While he talked, he stroked my hair, smoothing it away from my face. His soft gaze sought mine and my legs went weak. “Well, except this hamster I had when I was little. Does that count?”

My breath stuck in my throat. “I asked if you loved
me
.”

Tears smeared my face.
Just a simple girl, lost in a world of chaotic space.
I drew a deep breath and gripped the sheet with my hands. Waited.

He stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Do you love me?”