A Hold on Me by Esden Pat

Author:Esden, Pat [Esden, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-01-10T19:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

We who now must work in the shadows shall

one day be the lights of the world.

—Jeffrey White, President

Sons of Ophiuchus

As fast as the storm had arrived, it blew over, leaving everything soaked but the sky blue and the air cool.

Chase called Kate and told her about the break-in. I wasn’t surprised he mentioned I was with him, and it didn’t matter since Zachary would have told everyone anyway.

After that, I hurried back to the house and straight to the west wing. It was time for Dad and me to have a heart-to-heart about Mother’s death and what he’d been doing in the graveyard. While I was at it, I’d ask about my flashlight—though I suspected Dad had stolen it while he was possessed and probably had no memory of doing it.

When I reached Dad’s door, I raised my hand to knock, but froze when an unfamiliar hushed voice crept out from the other side. “Easy as skinning a cat,” it said.

“Yes, indeed.” A deeper voice snickered.

A memory careened into my head. A month ago, I’d gone shopping and come home unexpectedly early. When I’d stepped into the house, I was certain I’d heard voices. But no one was there besides Dad and it had felt like he’d turned the heat up, really high.

Slowly, I lowered my hand to the doorknob. The sound of my pulse thudded in my ears and fear, cold and sharp, shuddered up my spine. Part of me wanted to run, but I gritted my teeth and stood firm. If Dad was in there, maybe there was a reason he wasn’t saying anything—or couldn’t.

The deeper voice cleared his throat. “I believe we’re not alone.”

I threw the door open and catapulted inside.

A blast of sweltering air hit me. An eye-burning stench stole my breath.

Faintness rushed over me. I staggered back against the doorframe, clutching it as my head whirled and the floor tilted up to meet the ceiling.

I gulped a breath, and then another. Holding onto the doorframe, I clawed my way back onto my feet. Five more breaths and the room stopped spinning. The air temperature plummeted back to normal and the overwhelming bleachlike odor faded.

Dad had me by the arm. He walked me over to a chair. “Sit,” he said.

Shivering from the sudden drop in temperature, I pushed my sweat-slicked hair away from my face. The heat and the smell had been like a super-charged version of the last time I’d seen the shadows in Dad’s room, and not at all like the dizzy and surreal feeling I had experienced in the mausoleum.

Wide-eyed, Dad stared at me. “Fascinating,” he said. “You are as white as a clam.”

I glanced around the room. “I heard voices. It was so hot. Was someone in here?”

A smug little smile lifted his lips. “I was.”

My jaw clenched. The Dad I knew would have run to get a cool compress for my head, held my hand, threatened to phone 911. Instead, he looked amused.

My eyes went to the bed. The cross

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