Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour 6)

As well as hearing things.

And feeling things.

He grabbed Aggie’s hand and tugged her toward the front door.

“Yeah, we’d better hurry,” he said. “I’m sure we’re late.”

Lights glittered in lanterns posted along the otherwise dark pathway that led from the cottages toward the field that separated the quaint set of cottages from the main castle. Jace’s breath plumed before him in the chill of the night.

“It’s cold out here,” Aggie said. “Let me go grab my wrap. You pulled me out of there so quickly, I left it on the bed.”

“I’ll get it,” Jace volunteered, though he honestly did not want to go back into the cottage. He suddenly had a bad feeling about the place. And as little as he wanted to go in there, he wanted Aggie to brave it alone even less.

“Don’t be silly. Just wait for me,” she said and went back inside.

The expansive field between their accommodations and the castle was dark. Fog slowly rose from the ground in twisted wisps. Jace looked up at the castle in the distance. The windows glowed with inviting warmth. Every nerve ending in Jace’s body was on high alert. He wanted to be inside the castle, surrounded by others, not out here alone in the dark. Normally he preferred to be alone or in an intimate group of those he loved, but he was craving a big anonymous crowd to get lost in at the moment.

Jace caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A pale mist moved through the field of grass beyond the cottage lane. It was human-like in shape and moving toward the castle. A trick of the light reflecting off the fog, he told himself.

Thomas, who is she? A voice whispered behind him.

He spun around. Aside from the pale stone of the nearest building, there was nothing there.

Thomas?

“Okay, who the fuck is in here?” Aggie yelled inside the cottage. “This isn’t funny, Eric. Where are you? Hiding under the bed?”

Suddenly the cottage seemed like a very nice place to be. Jace dashed inside and found Aggie yanking the closet open and pushing through the clothes hanging there.

“What are you doing?” Jace asked.

“Some jerk is trying to scare me,” she said and pointed at the mirror.

He is mine was written on the glass in pink lipstick.

“Uh, yeah,” Jace said, grabbing Aggie by the arm and pulling her out of the closet. “Let’s go now. Right now.”

Aggie grabbed her wrap off the bed and allowed him to haul her out the front door again. He shut it before taking her hand and dashing toward the castle as if the ground was caving in behind them and they were trying to escape falling into the depths of Hell.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

“That message on the mirror didn’t freak you out?”

“It’s just someone’s idea of a prank,” Aggie said.

“There was no one in that cottage but you.”

“Just because we didn’t see anyone doesn’t mean no one was there.”

Right. But someone—something—was in there. Jace had seen her. Heard her. He was pretty sure that he was the “he is mine” mentioned in the mirror message. But if Aggie wasn’t afraid, then neither was he. Nope. Not him. Not scared at all.

She grinned at him crookedly. “You look a bit freaked out,” she teased.

A bit? “Whatever. Let’s just get this party over with.”

“And then we can go back to the cottage and fool around under the covers.”

Oh second thought, partying until dawn sounded fantastic. While time spent with Aggie under the covers was always phenomenal, he preferred to be anywhere on Earth other than that cottage.

They entered the castle and followed the loud music and voices to the ballroom. An attendant took Aggie’s wrap and opened a set of double doors that was actually muffling the sound far more than Jace had realized. The hall had been set up with a long buffet table along one side. Round dining tables, each seating six, were arranged on a plush patterned carpet to designate the dining area. The rest of the room had wooden floors and a DJ who was currently playing the worst club music Jace had ever heard. But people—members of the wedding party and guests who had arrived early enough to attend—were dancing. And looking a bit odd in their ball gowns and suits as they bumped and grinded and bounced and swayed to the rapid tempo of the pop song. Perhaps the haunted cottage wasn’t so bad after all, Jace decided.

“There you are,” Eric said. “Thought you might have been eaten by zombies or something.” He did his best impression of an evil laugh, which grated on Jace’s already raw nerves.

“That dress looks so great on you.” Rebekah squealed at Aggie. “I knew it would be perfect for you when I saw it.” She took Aggie by both hands and made her sway side to side to set the skirt swinging.

Aggie’s mom, Tabitha, came over to give her daughter a hug. “I’d never be able to pull off that dress, baby girl. You’ve always had the most beautiful skin.”

Every inch of her was beautiful. And his. He couldn’t seem to help but stand a bit taller when she was on his arm.

“I stay out of the sun,” Aggie said.

“Because you’re a vampire?” Eric asked.

Aggie’s white teeth flashed as she smiled. “You guessed it, Sticks. I’m queen of the dead.”

“That would explain her cruelty,” Eric said, jabbing Jace in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

But Jace knew a different Aggie. A loving Aggie. Maybe he was the only one who recognized the gentleness and vulnerability inside her because she didn’t allow anyone but him to see it. Jace squeezed her hand and even though she was chattering with the women and apparently paying him no mind, she squeezed back.

Aggie and Rebekah complimented Tabitha on her flapper dress—whatever that was. It was covered with long shiny strings that reminded Jace of spaghetti. Which sounded delicious. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

“What’s for eats?” Jace asked Eric, releasing Aggie’s hand and slapping Eric on the back to get him to head toward the buffet table.

“Rebekah thought we should eat British foods popular in various time periods.” He glanced at his wife to see if she was paying attention—she was still fawning over dresses—and then he crinkled his nose in disgust.

“Oh,” Jace said.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Eric whispered, “And they ate some really weird shit back in the day. Kidney pie? Did they not realize that kidneys are where piss is made? Blood pudding?” Eric gagged.

“Uh, I think people still eat those things in this country,” Jace said.

The corners of Eric’s mouth turned down. “You’re kidding?”

Jace shook his head.

“I think it’s time the fine people of Great Britain were introduced to hot dogs and scrambled eggs. Separately and together.”

It was Jace’s turn to gag. “You do realize what hot dogs are made of, don’t you?”

“Sunsh

ine and happiness,” Eric said.

They met Sed picking through the buffet selections and filling a large plate. Apparently he’d decided to try one or three of everything.

“You hungry?” Jace asked.

“Mmm, yeah, but this is for Jessica,” Sed said, glancing at his wife at a nearby table.

Jessica was hugely pregnant and nibbling on the after-dinner mints set in a little bowl in the center of the table. Jace decided the woman was even more beautiful when she was expecting. She appeared radiantly happy. Alive. And he admittedly liked a woman with a little meat on her bones. He fleetingly wondered what Aggie would look like with a baby growing inside her—his baby—but immediately quashed the idea as soon as it occurred to him. He had no business being a father, didn’t exactly have a good example to go by. He sure didn’t want to fuck up some kid’s psyche as much as his own father had fucked up his.

“So how many little Lionhearts are you going for, Daddy-O?” Eric asked.

“As many as she’ll agree to,” Sed said and sported a cocky grin. “I owe our species the perpetuation of my superior genes.”

Eric snorted and then turned to Jace. “Speaking of jeans. Where are your pants, Jace? Didn’t they fit? I made sure they were extra short, which was far easier than finding historic garb in size tall. You’d have blended in well two hundred years ago, little man.”

Jace was too used to short jokes to rise to his bait any more. “I don’t know if they fit; I didn’t bother trying them on. I’m not wearing them.”

“That was an option?” Sed growled, glaring down at his own knee-length trousers with disdain.

“Is this where the real party’s at?” Trey asked, joining their little Sinners huddle. “I’m about to jab sharp objects through my eardrums. What is that fucking music they’re playing?”