Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,20

me. The antiquated, long-dead parts that are convinced the world will be a duller, more barren place without Mariah in it. As though she were the color yellow, and if I were to take her life, I’d be stealing that color from the sunset.

In another place and time, I might have enjoyed her company once she’d had a chance to grow up and into herself. She’s younger than my usual preference when it comes to women, but a starving man doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for fruit to ripen.

“This is great, though,” she says. “Now that I know you’re a ghost, I can go home and see my mother. Her spirit’s probably there waiting for me.”

Her words snap me out of my bout of premature mourning. I’ve been keeping tabs on Isabella and guiding Mariah away from places she could potentially stumble across her mother. If Isabella were to see Mariah and I together, she might warn her daughter about my intentions just as we’re beginning to get closer.

But if Mariah believes Isabella’s spirit is in Maryland, there’ll be nothing holding her to this place.

“Isabella’s not back there,” I say.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, I do.”

“How?”

“Because she’s here.” Telling her this is a risk I’ll have to take. I can still keep them apart while Mariah’s asleep. I’ll just have to hope her powers don’t develop so quickly that she’s suddenly able to see Isabella while awake.

Mariah’s brow creases. “Why didn’t you tell me—”

We both turn at the sound of Chastity’s heels clicking and clacking up the staircase.

“Will,” Mariah says, “why didn’t you tell me my mom was here?”

“Miss Greyson!” Chastity’s knocks ring out like thunder.

“I didn’t tell you because...she might not be well enough to see you.”

Agony contorts her features. “She’s still sick?”

“Not like that.” I cup her face. I have to convince her to stay before she wakes up. “Death is a transition. She’s still acclimating. I’ll help you look for her, I promise,” I say, when what I really mean is, I’ll guide you around the property making damn sure the two of you never cross paths.

Mariah smiles appreciatively before dissolving through my fingers.

And for the first time since I watched her arrive on the estate, I feel like a true villain.

Chapter Ten

Mariah

My mom is here...

I open my eyes just as Chastity yanks the pillow out from under my head.

“Get up,” she says. “Edward wants to see you at the winery, and he insisted I make sure you eat breakfast.”

“What time is it?” I sit upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“It’s almost nine. Christopher’s already left for school. I won’t have you lazing around my house all morning.”

I convince her to let me get dressed in peace and promise to meet her in the kitchen. After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of leggings and slip my grandpa’s flannel over mom’s old Aerosmith tee.

Chastity’s already seated at the breakfast table, sipping something from a champagne flute that smells very alcoholic. I take a seat at the place setting across from her, in front of a tall drinking glass containing a thick, red liquid.

“It’s vegetable juice cocktail,” Chastity says. “Drink up. It’s good for you.”

“Can I just have toast?” I ask.

“If you drink your juice first.”

I take a tentative sip of the intimidating mystery beverage. It’s not bad. Kind of sweet, and a little metallic. I drink a few gulps before I need to take a break.

Chastity watches me like she’s waiting for the poison to kick in.

“Um,” I say, “do you happen to have any old photo albums or loose photographs lying around? Specifically, ones that were here when you guys moved in.”

“I doubt it. But I could tell the maid to check in storage. If you insist.”

“Please,” I say.

“Fine. Now, finish your juice. Edward’s expecting you.”

“What about the toast?”

Her jaw twitches. “I’ll have the cook to make it to-go.”

I politely refuse a ride to the winery, opting instead to munch my toast on the walk over. It’s a nice morning, sunny and warm. I’m still reeling from my conversation with Will last night. If what he said is true, and my mom’s ghost is here, then I need to find her.

Edward’s assistant, a short, red-haired woman with glasses, meets me on the terrace. I follow her up to his office. He’s on the phone when I enter. He makes the one-minute sign with his finger, then points to the empty chair in front of his desk. I sit.

“I’ll call next week