Ominous (Private 13)

“That means Constance and Kiki are in danger too,” I said.

“And technically Sabine,” she added.

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. Can’t say I’m that worried about her.” I lifted my phone. “We should call them. And the police.”

“The cops will never believe us,” Noelle said, grabbing the phone from my hands. “We have to go tell Grandmother and Daddy.”

I planted my feet as she tried to tug me toward the door. I’d only seen her father for five seconds upon our arrival. We’d basically exchanged hellos and that had been awkward enough. I had kind of hoped I could wait out the rest of my stay up here in the cocoon of Noelle’s suite and not see him again until the big birthday bash, when there would be so many people present I might not actually have to talk to him.

“Reed? Come on,” Noelle said.

I hesitated. She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to be in the same room with him sometime.”

“Fine,” I said. “But you do the talking.”

She smirked, took my hand, and pulled. “Just the way I like it.”

Mr. Lange sat on the edge of the leather couch in his office, his hands forming a steeple in front of his mouth as he listened to Noelle’s story. Even though it was the crack of dawn, he wore expensive-looking gray trousers and a dark blue button-down shirt without a crease in sight. Not a hair on his head was out of place, but I supposed that wasn’t difficult to manage with a close-cropped Caesar cut. His handsome brow was furrowed, and every now and then he’d look up at me furtively, as if checking to make sure I was still there.

This man slept with my mother. This man slept with my mother and made me.

I was in serious need of some air, but instead of hoofing it for the nearest window, I clutched Josh’s hand. We sat together on the love seat in the U-shaped seating area. He’d arrived just before we walked into Mr. Lange’s office, and I couldn’t have been more glad to have him there. Part of me was dying to ask him about his dream—the one that had woken him up and inspired him to call me—but that would have to wait.

“If I’m right, Constance Talbot and Kiki Rosen are in danger too,” Noelle said, glancing at her grandmother, who stood with her back to the window, wearing an impeccable royal purple suit. “We need to warn somebody.”

Mr. Lange took a deep breath and blew it out. He leaned back, the couch cushions squeaking as his weight shifted. He didn’t seem surprised by all this talk of covens and curses and factions.

“This is why I didn’t fight when Hathaway told me he was tearing down Billings,” he said gruffly. “This is why I want nothing to do with the new construction. Everyone who has ever been associated with that place is either off their rocker or dead.”

Wow. So much for Noelle’s idea about a new Billings being my birthday gift.

“Wallace.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he said automatically. “Except you.”

She smirked and I almost laughed. It was kind of humorous, seeing a man of his size and stature scolded by his diminutive, elderly mom.

“Well, what do you think, Mother?” he asked finally.

“You don’t believe me?” Noelle blurted out.

“Of course I believe you, Noelle,” he semisnapped, his brown eyes annoyed. “But this is a serious situation. Would you mind if I asked for a second opinion?”

Noelle fell silent. Mrs. Lange took a few steps toward us, lacing her fingers together, then unlacing, lacing, then unlacing. It was the closest thing to a nervous gesture I’d seen from her.

“I think you should make some calls,” she said.

“Fine.” Mr. Lange unfolded himself from the couch, rising to his full six-foot-four height, his silhouette blocking out all the sunlight from the window behind him. “Mother, if you’d call the Talbots and the Rosens,” he said, moving to the huge desk that stood in front of the biggest wall of bookcases I’d ever seen. “I’m going to call my assistant and have her cancel Reed’s party.”

Noelle and I exchanged a look.

“What? No.” Noelle walked over and stood on the opposite side of the desk, her fingertips grazing the surface. “Daddy, you can’t do that.”

He held the desk phone’s receiver in his hand but pressed his fingertip into the connector button, silencing the dial tone.

“And why, exactly, can’t I?” he asked, his gaze once again flicking to me.

I cleared my throat and stood up, releasing Josh’s hand.