Omens (The Dark in You #6) - Suzanne Wright Page 0,35
the house on the end of the street. It always remained out of reach, just like the woman who resided in it.
Khloé dipped her hand in her pocket to feel for the house key. It wasn’t there. She’d just have to ring the doorbell. Sometimes Penelope answered, sometimes she didn’t. It depended how much Bourbon she’d—
A graying, smirking, suited-up guy appeared a few feet in front of Khloé. She stopped walking. Enoch. Not good. “Jolene is looking for you.”
“Yes, I know.” He glanced around. “Such a dull, inane dream for someone so full of life and energy.”
“And just what the fuck do you want?”
He laughed, delighted. “And there’s that typical Wallis attitude. But then, all imps are full of snark and sass, aren’t they?”
Well, yeah.
“Your grandmother should have known better than to cross me.”
Khloé rolled her eyes. Like that made him special. Her family members crossed people all the time.
“She’ll pay for that. But not by my hand. You know, losing a person you love is an agony like no other. It steals your breath, pounds your soul, drags you down so low you can’t see a way back up. Your grandmother’s going to feel that same pain when I kill you. I would have killed her daughter to repay her for killing mine. But it’s partly your fault that Molly is in that grave, so I’ll destroy you instead. Then I’ll have you kill Jolene.” His eyes hardened, but his smirk widened. “Come, walk with me.”
Her brows drew together as the air around her thickened until it felt like there was a weight on her shoulders. A weight that seemed to be pushing her deeper and deeper into … something. Her surroundings blurred, and the colors mashed together like a pastel painting. Only he remained clear.
He held out his hand. “Come. I can help you reach your mother’s house. That is where you’re heading, isn’t it? We’ll go there together. Maybe we’ll even find her inside. Maybe she’ll even be sober. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Khloé pressed a hand to her chest. The thick air she’d inhaled was like a pressure inside her ribcage. A pressure that was building and building, inflating her lungs like they were balloons.
“Come,” he ordered, flexing the hand he held out. Impatience shimmered in his gaze. “Don’t resist. Just obey. Just—”
Khloé’s eyes flipped open—it was a move that almost hurt, since her eyelids felt so damn heavy. The darkness of her bedroom greeted her. Maybe it was a noise, she wasn’t sure, but something had wrenched her out of a deep, fucked-up sleep.
Tensing, she reached out with her psychic senses. Her pulse skittered when she found two other minds. Demonic minds. Both felt wrong somehow.
She kicked off the bedcovers and, silent as always, snapped out her wings. She flapped them hard once, making her body zoom upwards. She plastered her palms and the soles of her feet to the ceiling and hung there like a spider—an ability that awesomely freaked out Ciaran; she’d pounced on him from above plenty of times over the years when they were kids. And adults, if she was honest.
Khloé had expected the intruders to stealthily make their way through her house. They didn’t. Floorboards creaked, furniture was jostled, and doors were shoved open. And then two people barged into her room, their movements awkward and clunky.
Her nose wrinkled, and she almost gagged. They smelled of dirt and rot and … death. As she took in their weathered clothing and decaying bodies, she was sure as shit that they were already dead.
Well, fuckadoodledo.
The stout one grunted. The teenage corpse gargled a weird sound. Not that they were communicating—no independent thoughts drifted through their brains. They were both fully controlled by their puppet master.
In any other circumstance, Khloé would have plunged her mind into that of her enemy and taken the wheel. She could control most minds with minimal effort, but she couldn’t control the dead. Only a demon with the power of necrokinesis could do that.
She could take on two reanimated corpses—they’d be unable to use whatever demonic abilities they’d possessed when alive. But Enoch might be able to attack her with some of his abilities just by looking at her through the eyes of his puppets. That wasn’t good.
The dead teen suddenly jerked back, his back bowing. Then his body snapped straight, and a long breath rattled out of him. “I know you’re in here, Khloé,” he said, his voice rough and garbled. “You can’t hide for long.”