He turned toward me and smiled sadly again, his eyes empty orbs and his skin sallow and lifeless. His ordinarily thick, full head of hair took on a grayish hue except where it was wet from the sweat that beaded along his hairline. He seemed weak, frail, and small—nothing like the handsome, charismatic, and robust man I recognized from my dreams. I felt like I wanted to cry but held my tears in check, knowing they wouldn’t do either of us any good. Drake needed my strength, not my sadness.
Even more alarming than Drake’s current condition was the time it had taken for him to get there. I just couldn’t understand how it happened so quickly! One night had passed since the last time I’d seen him, and even though he’d seemed tired, his condition in no way resembled the broken man lying before me now.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I said, even though we both remained unconvinced. It just seemed a stupid thing to even think when everything was so far from being okay. “I found someone to cleanse the house,” I added quickly, hoping to imply the situation wasn’t exactly as bad as it seemed. And while Christopher the warlock never exactly agreed to cleanse the house and, actually, hadn’t agreed to do much of anything at all, I didn’t want Drake to know that. Besides, I had no one else but Christopher. He was my golden ticket, the only arrow in my quiver that could possibly defeat whatever this entity was. So, despite any reluctance on his part, Christopher would cleanse the house, as far as I was concerned.
“Le sorcier…the warlock,” Drake said, breathing out shallowly. He nodded, and his eyes revealed some recognition. “He visited me, but I was too weak to interact with him.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “Did you see him?”
Drake shook his head while recalling the event. “He existed merely as a strange voice, disembodied. Our connection was spotty at best so I couldn’t understand what he said or what his intentions were.”
“We asked him here to determine what the entity is,” I answered. “I think he can help us, Drake,” I finished with a heartfelt smile. I began stroking his hair and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the cuff of my shirt. “He’s not a voodoo priestess, but I bet he’s just as powerful. He’s a necromancer. He said I can help bring you back to health again.”
Drake didn’t say anything and his expression was unreadable. “Was he able to connect with the entity?” he asked, turning to face me with sudden interest. “Could he see it? Did he know what it was?”
I shook my head. “He said it was too dangerous for him to attempt reaching out to it. But he recognized its malevolence immediately.”
“Does he know why it’s here or what it wants?” he continued, his interest obviously piqued.
I cleared my throat because I knew Drake wouldn’t take my answer well. Even I still wasn’t taking it very well. “He says the entity wants me,” I finished, my voice dropping lower with resignation.
Drake nodded as if he weren’t surprised, which worried me. Frowning, he settled his lifeless gaze on me. “I figured that part out too late, I’m afraid.” He shook his head and bit his lip. I could see his frustration and it was a difficult thing to watch. “I tried to protect you, ma minette, but I am afraid I’ve failed you.”
“You haven’t failed me,” I said with watery eyes as I remembered him battling the entity when it was choking the life out of me. “You’ve kept me safe this whole time. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”
He gripped my hand and stared at me, a sudden urgency in his expression. Maybe it was with the realization that he couldn’t keep me safe any longer, not when his vitality was fading so rapidly. “Il faut que vous quittiez cette maison! You need to leave this house,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “Get as far away as you can.”
I shook my head, remembering how Christopher said that it wouldn’t do any good. For whatever reason, this entity had its sights on me and I doubted it would care what zip code I lived in. And seeing how quickly it had drained Drake’s power and vivacity convinced me it could locate me wherever I tried to hide. I had a feeling the fact that Sarah Laumann was my great-grandmother had something to do with it.
I smiled down at my friend and continued running my fingers through his hair, trying to console him. “I need you to hold on for me, Drake,” I said softly. Bringing my mouth to his forehead, I kissed him gently. I pulled away and saw his unbridled affection for me reflected in the chocolate of his irises. “I need you to resist it just for a little while longer,” I finished. But I already knew that waiting to see Christopher wasn’t an option. Drake was too far gone already. Time was of the essence and I had to act now.
He simply nodded and smiled up at me as I wondered how much longer he could hold this thing off. “Ma minette, ma belle, my beautiful,” he whispered.
But before I left Drake to visit Christopher, I needed some information. “I need to know if you were ever in contact with Sarah Laumann.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Oui. She was one of his victims,” he said in a far-off voice.
“Yes, how did you know her?”
“I was working on her case,” he answered immediately before taking another deep breath and finally opening his eyes. “She was so young. When I visited her at Charity Hospital to question her as to what had happened, she was so frightened she was barely able to speak. Her head was bandaged but the bandages did nothing to detract from the beauty of her face.”
I swallowed hard as I started to guess where this conversation was headed. “Were you and my great, er, Sarah, involved?”
He sighed and then nodded, glancing up at me briefly. “Pour un temps. For a time.” He cleared his throat and I could see the exhaustion beginning to build in his eyes. It was time for me to go.
“I need you to wake me up now, Drake,” I said in a soft voice. “Wake me up.”
I came to almost immediately. Sitting up with a start, I glanced around and found I was back in my bed, in my guest bedroom, in my house. I wiped my eyes as I pushed the duvet off and immediately turned to the task of getting dressed. I was more than sure that Christopher wouldn’t appreciate a phone call at midnight, but this was an emergency. I’d never seen Drake so infirm, so vacant and sickly. It scared the hell out of me.
Pulling on my bra and panties, I slid the pair of jeans I’d worn earlier in the evening on and wiggled into a white sweatshirt. Then I fished out two balled-up socks that had never made it to the hamper and hoped they didn’t smell too bad. Throwing on my sneakers, I picked up Christopher’s business card from my side table and dialed his number.
“Warlock-for-hire, Christopher Raven Adams here,” he answered on the second ring in a blasé tone. He didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping.