“Jesus,” Cash mutters.
“Oh, Daphne,” Millie says and hurries around the counter to hug her sister. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it was your wedding reception,” Daphne reminds her. “What would you have had me do? Interrupt the fun and say, ‘Oh, by the way, an evil serial killer is terrorizing me today?’”
“Yeah,” Brielle says, nodding. “That’s exactly what you should have said.”
“At the very least,” Lucien adds, “you should have called us all together the next morning so we could talk it through.”
“Well, I came out of it—the trance or whatever—and it didn’t happen again,” Daphne replies.
“But I saw it, too,” I say.
Five pairs of eyes turn to me.
“I was watching for Daphne, and when I saw her stop so abruptly and noticed the fear in her eyes, I looked back, and I saw it, too. And the shittiest thing is, that was one of my visions. But I didn’t know until I was in that exact spot that that’s what I’d seen.”
“Before that day, when was your vision?” Millie asks.
I blink, thinking back. “Oh, geez, it must have been…a week before? Maybe a little more.”
“It’s starting much earlier this time,” Brielle says.
“Makes sense,” Lucien adds. “He’s angry. Question: have you two seen the same things in the past?”
“No, I have precognition, and Daph sees the past. It’s never overlapped before.”
“Wow,” Cash exclaims. “This is intense.”
“I need more coffee,” Daphne says and walks behind the counter to brew a cup. “And why didn’t I realize that? Why didn’t it occur to me that we’ve never seen the same thing before?”
“Because you’re too worried about me,” I reply and grin when she narrows her eyes. “You’re not objective when it comes to me.”
“Arrogant much?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“Is it any wonder that I’m crazy about you?”
“He’s right,” Lucien adds. “It didn’t occur to you because you’re too worried about the personal side of things. But we all have to remember to keep our eyes open and make a note of everything because there are no coincidences or accidents. What happened to you two at our reception was purposeful and meant to throw you both off.”
“So, what do we do?” I demand. “How do we end this fucker? I won’t have him hurt Daphne—or any of you, for that matter. This needs to be over.”
“As frustrating as it is, we wait,” Lucien says. “This phase is just beginning. We have to wait.”
“We need to recharge the stones in Daphne’s shop and at her apartment,” Millie says, making a mental list. “Cast protection spells daily.”
“Daily?” Daphne questions. “I don’t need you to do that.”
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at her. “You do. We will.”
Daphne looks as if she might yell at me, but Brielle speaks again before that can happen.
“I think we should all stay in the same place,” she says. “We’re stronger together.”
“We have plenty of space,” Millie offers. “Our house is big, so we won’t be on top of each other.”
“No,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “Absolutely, not. I’m not going to let him run me out of my home. I have a business. A life. And since all he’s done so far is try to scare me, I’m staying home.”
“Now is when you decide to let your stubbornness rule?” Brielle demands.
“I’m not being unreasonable,” Daphne says with a sigh. “He hasn’t done anything that we know of besides these parlor tricks.”
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” My voice is stern, leaving no room for argument or discussion. “From here on out until this is finished.”
“We all will,” Cash says. “And the second something happens, you call us.”
“Trust me,” Daphne says. “I’m scared. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m not going to put any of you in jeopardy.”
“Are you planning to drop your shields?” Millie asks me.
“I thought about it,” I admit. “If it will help me see things more clearly.”
“No.” Lucien shakes his head. “If he’s able to get into your head with your protections intact, I can’t even imagine what he could do if you weren’t protected. Keep them up.”
“And what do we do now?” Daphne asks, but Lucien already answered that question.
He smiles patiently at his sister-in-law. “We wait.”
Chapter Two
Daphne
“Hello, little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I insist. But he just smiles bigger, showing me those crooked teeth.
I’m standing in the middle of a sidewalk in a courtyard. I see grass all around me, and he’s standing in front of a fountain, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes pinned to mine. Yet, he remains unblinking—and he’s creepy as fuck.
Yep, that’s Daddy.
I can’t lift my feet. When I’m finally able, I move as if I’m trudging through mud. Slow and clumsily.
“You can’t run away from me, little girl,” he snarls. “I’m always nearby. Always watching. You’re my little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl!” I yell in frustration, but he doesn’t even flinch.
“An ungrateful little girl, that’s what you are.”
I want to kill him. I want to run over and rip that slimy smile off his disgusting face.
But I can’t move.
I sit up in bed and swipe my hand over my face. I’m sweating. My heart is racing.
I glance over to check the time.
Three o’clock on the nose.
The witching hour.
I hate the middle of the night. Even after we escaped the house in the bayou, the nights still scare me. I usually keep a light on in my apartment, but I scowl when I realize it’s out.
I slip my feet into my slippers, wrap my robe around me, and pad into the bathroom, flipping on the light. Weird. I know that it was on when I went to bed.
I use the restroom and then wash my hands, drying them before glancing up.
I yelp and blink, and then it’s gone.
“I’m losing my mind,” I mutter and will my heart rate to slow down. “I did not just see my father in the mirror. He’s gone. Long gone.”
I just wish I could make my subconscious get the memo.
I’m so tired. Because even though I went back to bed, I still had dreams.
I’ve been sleeping well, but the dreams that plague me are awful. Too real. Full of horrible memories of living in the bayou with my sisters, victims of a possessed mother, and the spirit of our evil father.
He’s been coming to me in dreams regularly—not just last night. Our daddy. And it’s as terrifying now as it was when I was small and helpless.