“I do whatever the count wants me to do, and I make sure he is comfortable and happy while he is here. I make sure the rooms are stocked with whatever they need. Is your room well-stocked?”
I shook my head. “It’s comfortable, but I don’t have clothes. And I’m running low on soap.”
“You don’t have clothes?”
I smiled. “A little oversight. I didn’t want to bother the count with worrying about it. He’s been so busy these days.”
Oswald narrowed his eyes at my body, like he was sizing me up. “I’ll have some warm clothes sent to your room in your size.”
Shivering again, I looked behind me as we walked through the halls. Shadows gathered in the corners. “Have you ever seen ghosts around here, Oswald?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, my lady.”
“I suppose, then, you won’t believe that a ghost choked me in my bedroom.”
He shot me a curious look. “Perhaps it’s a curse? Some dark magic to give the appearance of a ghost? Have you perchance angered anyone with magical abilities recently?”
I cleared my throat. “Not that I know of.” Lie. “I mean, I can’t think of anything. Anyway, maybe I imagined it. In any case, Samael said that tomorrow you might show me around a little bit. My future home. I want to see everything.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He led me into one of the eastern halls. Towering multi-paned windows let moonlight in over dark stone walls and wide, sweeping staircases. A few torches lit the halls with warm, dancing light.
“How did you end up working here, Oswald?”
He shrugged. “I grew up in Dovren. My older brother is inheriting the family home, so I had to find a job of some sort. I quite like this grim atmosphere. It suits me. And I believe in what the count and the Watchers do. They fight for a just cause.”
“What they do …” I repeated.
“Keeping order. Fighting demons.”
Goosebumps ran over my skin. “Is it possible the ghost in my room is a demon? She just appears and disappears out of thin air, and she seems to want to hurt me.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “Demons don’t do that. They’re as solid as you and I. As solid as angels. And there are hardly any of them around. The Watchers have seen to that.”
Sourial had told me about the fallen Watchers—they had once been the guardians of mankind before falling from grace.
“Tell me more about demons,” I said.
Oswald frowned. “The count hasn’t told you?”
“He is very protective of me. He thinks I scare more easily than I do.”
“Well, they hardly feel anything,” he said. “No emotions at all. But they hunger to feel things, so they do all sorts of depraved acts in an attempt to feel anything. Torture is a favorite. Some are experts in seduction, but they leave their victims robbed of life, empty husks. Except the thrill burns up again fast, and then they need to move on to another victim. They’re the opposite of angels, who feel a lot. Rage. Love.” He chuckled good-naturedly. “It’s all very dramatic. I’m sure you know.”
At last, we reached my little prison room. The door was still open from when I had escaped, certain freedom awaited me. Such an innocent time, thirty minutes ago.
“Thank you, Oswald. I look forward to seeing you and Emma tomorrow.” But I paused in the doorway, not eager to rush back into the haunted room.
He gestured at the open door. “You'll be fine, my lady. Even if ghosts are real, they can't kill you. It’s all illusions and tricks. Are you superstitious?”
“Oh, yes.” I knocked on the stone wall three times. “I do that for luck.”
“Then keep knocking, and find whatever makes you feel secure. It’s all mind over matter.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn’t entirely believe him, but I took a deep breath and stepped inside. A lantern stood on the dresser, and I flicked it on. Whether or not it was a fire risk, I’d be sleeping with the lantern burning.
When the doors shut behind me, I looked around the room, taking in the shadows that seemed to seep from the corners.
For a moment, I closed my eyes, remembering how it had felt to be so close to Samael. The pure power of his body. His heat radiating over me. I brushed my fingertips over my lips, imagining his lips grazing over mine. But as I did, an icy chill skimmed over me, the hair raising on the back of my neck. My eyes snapped open. I felt her here.
It was just me and the ghost.
8
Lila
I saw no signs of the ghost, but I thought I’d give her a warning anyway, in case she was still lingering around, invisible.
I held out my arms to the side. “All right, you phantom twat. I'm not scared of you. And I know that your whole purpose is to try to scare me, so you might as well just give up, because I do not care about you, and I never will. You can't kill me. You musty wanker.”
The little speech seemed to actually work; I felt the fear leaving my body.
Exhausted, I crossed into the bathroom. I pulled off my nightgown and knickers, then turned the tap to start running hot water.
I shivered as I waited. The castle air was freezing. Moonlight poured in from the tall window in the bathroom, spilling over the small stone room. It held an iron tub, in which I washed my nightgown every other day.
Finally, the water filled the tub high enough, and I tested the heat with my fingertips. At least this would be a nice, much-needed distraction from my current debacle.
But just before I stepped into the tub, I glanced into the mirror, and my heart spluttered. The ghost I’d just called a musty wanker was behind me in the reflection. She stood with her arms outstretched, hands hanging down; her hair writhed around her head like snakes, her neck and spine bent at odd angles like they’d been broken. Her head lolled forward, her face in shadow and covered by hair.
My blood was arctic. “I'm not scared of you,” I said quietly.
It didn't sound at all convincing.
Clenching my jaw, I whirled to face her.
But she was gone. It was just me and the steam rising from the bath.
Good. Just an illusion.
Then, when I chanced a look in the mirror again, a gap formed in the steam, which seemed to rise around a dark silhouette. Slowly, the ghost appeared again in the gap, and my stomach clenched.
Without warning, one of her bony hands shot out and grabbed me by the throat. She gripped my neck hard, then shoved me against the wall so hard a crack echoed through the room. Pain racked my body as I slid to the floor. I tried to stand again, but the ghost dug her fingernails in deeper.
Terrible gurgling sounds emitted from her throat. Strands of hair undulated before her face, covering her eyes. Rotten teeth jutted from her gums.
In a panic, I slammed my left fist into the side of her head, but it was like hitting an iron wall. Pain exploded through my knuckles.
For a ghost, this bitch was strong as hell. She grimaced, and she started rasping, “Whore. God will give you dirt to eat. God will fill your mouth with decay.”
With her hand squeezing my throat, leaves filled my mouth, choking me. I couldn't breathe. Oh God, I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating on decaying earth and leaves, about to die, naked, on a bathroom floor. Frantically, I grabbed at her hair, like a drowning woman trying to grasp anything that would save me.