Clarissa blinked. Okay, she’d suspected that Harrison was something other than human when he’d disappeared so quickly on her the other day. Seeing him perform a trick that even David Copperfield would be hard-pressed to replicate only confirmed her suspicions. Did that mean Harrison and Seven were of the same ilk? She stared intently at the empty spot where the butler had been only seconds ago. Well, whatever the hell Harrison was, she needed to take advantage of his absence. Now.
Jerking to her feet, she raced to the front gate. The scrolled latch lifted beneath her fingers, offering no resistance. Praying her luck would hold, she barreled up the wide stairway and tried the door. Fortunately, it appeared that Harrison hadn’t thought to lock it before taking off. She hurried inside the house and surveyed her surroundings.
The entry was spacious but held no furniture. There were, however, several large oil paintings in ornate, gold-leafed frames. They all seemed to be from the Renaissance period and depicted the same dreary landscape—a desolate, barren wasteland with a towering mountain in the distance. She eyed the closest of the paintings, a shiver coursing down her spine. There was nothing outwardly evil about the scene but something about it still gave her the creeps. A creak sounded and she froze. It wasn’t until a breeze whistled against the shuttered window and the snapping noise repeated that she realized it was only the house settling. Still, who knew when Harrison would be back?
Or Seven, for that matter.
Intent on getting as much snooping in as possible while she could, she systematically began checking the entire main floor. Strangely enough, each room turned out to be as empty as the entry. Moving her focus to the massive mahogany staircase, she worked her way upstairs. The upper level consisted of seven rooms. As always, Seven had taken the freaky symbolism thing to a brand-new level of weird. But unlike those downstairs, these rooms did contain furniture, at least.
With the exception of one room, each interior was tidy and dressed in various décor that stood in direct contrast with each other. She moved from one opulently appointed accommodation decked out with French antiques and silk tapestries to its neighbor filled with minimalist, modern furniture and disturbing framed wall posters depicting devastating scenes of war. It was clear by looking around each space that its trappings probably offered a glaring clue as to which of Seven’s personalities occupied it.
She walked into the last room. Though it was the largest of them all, it held the least accoutrements. Just as she was about to refocus her efforts on the previous spaces she’d rushed through, her attention fell on a book propped upon a tall, marble pedestal situated against the farthest wall. She crossed to the display and inspected the manuscript. It appeared to be ancient—much older than any of the tomes in her office at the coven house. And that was saying a lot, considering the age of some of the books in her collection.
Carefully flipping the delicate parchment to the opening page, she glanced at the single word written there in black ink. Commedia.
“Comedy?” She grunted. “Not the first title that springs to my mind.” She turned back one page to the intricately detailed engraving of people in medieval garb being consumed by fire and hideous beasts. Yeah, that was always a chuckle buster. Shuddering, she closed the manuscript.
“Hello, sweet Clarissa.”
She jumped, a cold wash of dread sluicing through her veins. Slowly she pivoted and locked gazes with the personality that had kissed her last night at Tatum’s. The creature leaned against the doorframe, a sly smile tilting one corner of its mouth. “What a most unexpected surprise. I had no idea you missed my company this much.”
Tamping down her instinctual fear, she stepped forward. “Hardly. I’m only here to demand why you’ve gone back on your word to leave my father alone.”
“Have I?”
“I saw you at Lafayette today.” She sucked in a deep breath when her nemesis’s left eyebrow took a cocky upward slant. “Well, one of you, anyway. Our bargain was that you would stay away from my father.”
“You misunderstand. Your father’s soul was not the goal this morning.”
“So you were contracting souls.” Having her suspicions confirmed only stirred the furious brew of rage churning in her stomach.
The personality abandoned the doorway, its eyes flashing with an intensity that made her uneasy. “Never fear, sweet Clarissa. Yours will always be truly beloved above all others.”
It took a moment to absorb the meaning behind the declaration. She gaped at the creature. The notion that it thought she’d be the slightest bit jealous of her place within its catalog of collected souls would have been laughable, if it weren’t so damn disturbing.
“I see that you doubt my words.” He shook his head with a tsking noise. “Have you not figured it out yet?”
She desperately wanted to resist the magnetic draw radiating from Seven, but the force tugged at her, ripping the words from her mouth. “Figured out what?”
“That unlike her, I will never choose another to replace you within my affections.” The silken purr of Seven’s voice held a certain mocking quality that complimented the creature’s sly expression.
She staggered backward, a fresh wave of nausea roiling in her stomach. The creature’s chuckle rang in her ears. “Have I struck a tender nerve?”
Her mouth dry and gritty, she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Shall I refresh your memory?” Seven’s cold fingers trailed like ice down her cheek, causing her to flinch. “Forsyth Park. Your mother. The proof that verified everything you’d always suspected.”
The hated recollection rattled at its locked cage, desperate to escape. She couldn’t free it. Couldn’t grant it that power to once again destroy her. Completely. But Seven’s whisper-like kiss upon her cheek offered no comfort, no reprieve from her dirtied past.
“She never wanted you, sweet Clarissa. And she never will.”
Chapter Nine
Leaving Seven’s mansion after their chat ended up cementing one painful lesson for Clarissa. Going up against the creature might not only be futile, but also more dangerous to her emotionally than she’d ever imagined.
Somehow the bastard knew exactly what to say to get to her. How to hurt her with a casual cruelty that left her reeling. By the time she drove back into the city, she still hadn’t shaken off any of the ugly remnants of their encounter. All she could do was hope she could sneak into Charmed Moon without drawing attention.
That possibility shriveled when the loose floorboard in the rear hallway ratted her out. Both Marabella Blanchard and Clarissa’s coven sister, Constance, glanced expectantly in Clarissa’s direction.
Damn. Clarissa sent the back stockroom a longing glance before sighing and joining the other two witches in the center of the shop.
Constance shoved a shoulder-length lock of her jet-black hair behind her ear and frowned as she swept Clarissa with an assessing look. “There’s something different about your aura today.”
Clarissa swallowed, her skin going clammy, but before she could stammer through a reasonable lie, Constance’s eyes widened.
“Holy shit. You got laid!”
Marabella choked on a cough, and Clarissa debated whether she should be relieved that Con hadn’t picked up on her agitation over her conversation with Seven, or if she should conjure a black hole she could hurtle herself into. To make matters worse, she could tell from the flush of excitement riding Con’s cheekbones that her coven sister wasn’t going to drop the matter of her broken celibacy any time soon.