Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,29

now, but your mother and grandfather lived there for a short while, after we bought the estate.”

I wonder why Will never bothered to take me there all those nights we spent searching for my mother.

Edward turns the page for me and smiles at another photo of my mother in her Dorothy costume. “She looked especially lovely that night—”

“Oops!” Chastity’s hand shoots out, knocking over the smoothie, and splattering purple liquid all over the photo album.

“So sorry about that,” she says, clutching her necklace in a way that makes it crystal clear she’s not sorry at all.

My heart cracks into pieces like a glass that’s been dropped on the floor. I move like a thing possessed, rising from my seat and reaching across to slap Chastity across the face.

She yelps. We stare at one another for a handful of heartbeats, her in disbelief, and me in my fury.

“How dare you,” I say. “These are the only photos I have of my mother when she was my age.”

“Edward,” Chastity says, “did you see what she just did to me?”

“What’d you expect, my dear?” he says, his voice as calm as a lake. “If you pull a cat’s tail, don’t be surprised when you get scratched.”

“If a cat scratched me, I’d put it down.”

Christopher’s gaze jumps between his father and me, like he’s waiting for something to happen. I suddenly feel like a mouse trapped in a maze, being watched by scientists in lab coats.

I attempt to sop up as much of the smoothie as possible using my napkin, as well as any others I can reach. Unfortunately, unlike newer albums with plastic barriers, these photos are only held in by paper slots at the corners.

I fetch a wad of paper towels from the kitchen, then begin laying down pieces between the dampened pages, praying at least a few of the photos will be salvageable. I re-stack the albums and clutch them to my chest.

“I don’t know what kind of fucked-up games you’re playing with each other,” I say. “But keep me and my family out of them.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mariah

Keema offers to let me store the photo albums in her office during my shift. Part of me wants to say fuck it and hop on the next flight home, where the house I grew up in is waiting for me. But if my mom’s ghost is here, along with both my grandparents, is that house really my home, or is this where I’m supposed to be?

The thought of calling anywhere the Radcliffs live home curdles my stomach.

And what about Will? I can’t just leave without saying goodbye or finding out if he’s okay.

I keep my head down and focus on work, trying not to think about where Will might be. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his hands on my body. His mouth performing pleasure spells between my thighs.

It seemed so real, his hunger for me. I felt it in the way he kissed me, in the way his hands roamed across my skin, mapping unchartered territory. He may not have touched my body, but he sure as hell left his mark on my psyche.

Falling for a ghost has to be one of the most painful things you can do to yourself. It can only end in heartbreak. But after everything I’ve been through this year—all the pain and loss—I feel like maybe fate owes me a small bite of happiness. I’m not asking for much. Just a chance to forget about the real world for a few hours, with a man who looks at me like I’m best thing that’s happened to him in centuries.

Halfway through my shift, our most seasoned sommelier, Burt, asks me to run to the basement for another bottle of Pinot. The tasting room has its own wine cellar, separate from the winery, where we keep the bottles specifically reserved for tours.

The light switch at the top of the staircase only illuminates the stairs below. You have to turn on the second switch at the bottom to see the shelves. As I grope the wall, I realize something’s different. There’s no light switch at the bottom, and the wall itself feels like it’s made of stone instead of sheetrock.

I descend the last step and find the entire floor steeped in liquid. It oozes into the sides of my sandals, slick and warm.

Blood. At least an inch of it, deep red and glossy beneath the subtle glow of lantern light that shouldn’t be here.

A long stone corridor