“Don’t call me that.” This time when I spoke, the anger registered in my voice. “I . . . I can’t breathe with you in front of me right now.”
River stood up and walked a couple of steps away from the bed.
“You killed my cousin because of me.” I wiped my face and finally looked at River. “I sat in that chair and made that wish and then he died.”
“You didn’t wish for him to die.”
“It’s all the same, isn’t it? His ghost is still here. In this house.”
He shook his head. “His ghost is your memory. Your memory has kept him alive, and so, he appeared for you in his true form. That’s what happens during Carnival.”
“You choked him to death,” I whispered, hating that it hurt so much to speak the words aloud. Hating that I was upset by any of it even after what he did to me.
“I did worse than just choke him,” he said. “You asked him if I knew him, and I did. When he worked here, I even went as far as befriending him.” He shook his head. “But how does one un-see what he did to you?”
“You saw it happen?”
“Not when he did what he did. I would have killed him then. I put two and two together when I saw you crying and then when you sat in the chair I saw it . . . ”
I searched his eyes. “It’s true what they say then.”
“What do they say?” His mouth turned up slightly.
“That you’re the Devil.”
“Plain terms.”
I clasped my hands together and brought them to my chest.
“What are you going to do, little witch? Start praying?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“I want to go home with my friends.”
“Your friends are in no state to go home.” He stood and walked to the fireplace, looking at the ships in the painting. “Besides, the tide’s up for the night.”
“I thought the tide stayed low this week. I thought that was the point of the party.”
“I’m not the keeper of the ocean. Are you?” He glanced over his shoulder at me. My heart dipped. My grandmother did always say the Devil was charming and seductive. She wasn’t lying.
“Why me?” I’d asked the question a million times and never got a clear answer.
“I’ll tell you.” He turned to face me. “If you stay through the week.”
“Through the week?” My eyes widened. “That’s . . . two more nights.”
“That’s my condition. Two nights and you take the leaves when you go.”
“How do you know about . . . ” I let my question trail off. Of course, he knew about the leaves. He seemed to know everything about me. It was an unfair advantage, but then, it had been from the beginning. I met his gaze and nodded once. “I’ll stay through the week.”
His smile was blinding.
Sinful.
Promising.
Wicked.
Chapter Twenty
I had no desire to see any ghosts, so I decided to stay inside River’s bedroom. He stayed with. He only let me out of his sight so that I could shower and change, and he did the same before settling in the sitting area to read a book. I kept replaying the memory over and over in my head. Esteban on top of me, touching me forcefully. I shivered. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten it.
“The tea,” I said. River looked up at me. “The tea made me forget.”
“The leaves can do that.”
“My grandmother used those leaves for a lot of things. To cure people, to help them, and to make me forget.” I shook my head. “Why do I remember everything else? I didn’t even remember he disappeared that same night.”
“We believe what we want to believe.” River went back to his book.
“Are you human?” I tried to keep my voice level, but the question was quiet. Maybe I didn’t want to know.
“I am.” The edge of his mouth lifted.
“But are you not—“
“The Devil?” He glanced at me over the book. “I don’t know. Are you not a witch?”
“I’m not.”
“You come from a long family of witches. Many of whom were burned at the stake.”
“For having strong opinions about things.”
“For practicing witchcraft, Penelope. Even you can’t kid yourself into thinking they weren’t. Your grandmother is one of the island’s most sought-out healers.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Healer doesn’t mean witch.”
“Outcast doesn’t mean Devil.”
I leaned back against the headboard and stared at him. His gaze flicked from me back to his book, which was apparently more interesting. I crossed my arms. I was fully intending to say something snappy, but my mind drifted back to the memory.
“My father didn’t believe me,” I said after a long moment. River lowered the book and looked at me, but didn’t say anything. He just waited. “He didn’t believe me about my cousin when I told him. He said he wouldn’t bother Esteban because of everything he’d been through and then kicked me to the curb like I was Thursday’s trash.” I brought my knees up to my chest and hugged myself.