“She never was the smartest of my girls,” he mutters as he finds the house he’s been searching for, just on the edge of town. “She needs more detail. More attention. She needs me. But that’s what I’m here for.”
He nods in satisfaction and takes his place behind the mirror, delighted when he doesn’t have to wait long.
He has the most satisfying energy source. It was too easy. Too perfect, really.
As the man stands before the mirror, washing his hands, Horace grins gleefully. And when he raises his head, Horace begins the spell and pulls energy from the host in a steady stream that makes him feel energized and full of adrenaline.
He’s careful not to take too much—not to take it all. He doesn’t want to kill this one, not yet. The time isn’t right.
The man slumps forward, and Horace flies up, refreshed and ready for his next toy.
He has the perfect one in mind.
The trip north doesn’t take long, and when he moves behind the mirror, he smiles. Yes, everything’s working out just right.
“There you are. Did you have a bad day?”
The woman on the other side of the glass scowls at her phone, muttering under her breath. She’s only wearing a bra and underwear. She’s fat, much too big for his tastes, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to touch her. He’d give her more pain, punish her for her gluttony.
It is a sin.
Maybe he wishes he could touch her, after all. Show her how stupid she is.
But perhaps there’s a way.
She glances up into the mirror, and her brown eyes cloud over when he begins speaking to her.
“You forgot your knife,” he croons, feeling much calmer now that he’s focused on his work. “You’d best go fetch it.”
Without a word, the toy leaves the bathroom and returns with a big kitchen blade—a chef’s knife.
“Is it sharp?” he asks. He misses the weight of a knife in his hands. The way it feels when it slices through flesh. “You’d best test it.”
Horace’s breath catches when the toy glides the blade up her arm, cutting from wrist to elbow.
She cries out.
He sighs in delight.
“Oh, yes. Yes, this is perfect. Now, let’s trim some of that fat off you, shall we?”
Chapter Eight
Daphne
I shove my feet into my slippers and rush back into the bathroom. I’ll be damned if Jack will clean up the glass by himself.
“Jack, things don’t just randomly fall off walls,” I insist when I hurry in and see that he’s already sweeping up pieces of glass. Damn it. I really loved this mirror. “There’s always a reason. A ghost. A poltergeist.”
“Faulty nails,” he adds and points to the little nail sticking out of the wall. “That thing wasn’t sturdy enough to hold this.”
“It’s been hanging there for years,” I inform him. “I’ve never had a problem before. Oh, Goddess, what if it’s Hor—him?”
“There’s a damn strong protection spell on your place,” he reminds me. “There’s no way he got in here and broke this thing.”
I lean over, touch the frame, and gasp.
Hate.
Fury.
Fire.
“Daph?”
“Jesus.” I jump back and scowl at the frame. “That thing is full of awful feelings. And let me just say, it wasn’t like that before. It belonged to a woman in Shreveport who loved cats. She was sweet and harmless.”
“When did she die?”
I feel my lips twitch. “1988. And that doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m telling you, there was nothing bad in that mirror before.”
“I got this,” he says and carries the frame, along with a bag of broken glass, out the door to the trash.
When he returns, he frowns.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t feel like going out now.” I unfasten my earrings, but before I can take off the necklace, Jack crosses to me and frames my face.
“Hey, it’s just a mirror. It fell. We’re still going out for dinner. You deserve it. Besides, we have reservations.”
“Where?” I ask and play with one of the buttons on his shirt, enjoying the way he feels when he stands so close to me.
“Café Amelie.”
I narrow my eyes. “How did you know that’s my favorite restaurant?”
“I’m never going to give up my sources,” he says with a confident grin.
“On the way back, can we swing by the shop so we can pick up another mirror? I have just the one I want in mind.”
“Sure. I’ll even hang it for you. With a better nail. I promise it won’t fall.”
I change into my heels and refasten my earrings. I won’t tell him again that I don’t think that mirror just fell. I don’t know what it could have been, but things don’t just randomly fall.
Maybe Millie would know, if she came over. I don’t like the idea of asking her to drop her shields, though. Her psychic gifts are so strong, so powerful, they could hurt her. Keeping those shields in place is the best protection for her.