other direction.
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. I hadn’t expected him to do that at all.
“See? I can be civil.”
“I’m not sure I’d classify that as civil, but sure.” I shrugged. “I have a question. About tonight I mean.”
“Okay.”
“I’m assuming we’ll be going back to your house, but how are we getting there? The tide should be low, but not low enough to walk across.” I frowned, realizing I didn’t really know. “Or is it?”
“It is,” he said. “I have a car waiting outside to take us back when you’re ready.”
“Aren’t you supposed to stay for the festivities? I heard there are huge artists coming.”
“I didn’t come for the festivities.” His smile was slow and purposeful, like a wolf ready to pounce on prey.
“You came here for me,” I said.
“Beauty and brains. We have a winner.” He smiled wider, and with that, escorted me outside the building through the back door.
Chapter Eight
The chauffeur was the bodyguard from before. This time, he solely focused on the road as River and I sat in the backseat of the black Rolls Royce. Truly, a luxury car. I stretched my legs fully and my toes still didn’t touch the back of the seat in front of me. I closed my eyes and inhaled the leather. It smelled like one of my designer bags. I could live in this car and die happy. River’s chuckle made me open my eyes and look at him. I expected him to be on his phone, but he was just looking out the window. I glanced over his shoulder to see what was so funny, but didn’t see anything. It was pitch black out. He was probably plotting my demise and I was the idiot going willingly. When I looked out my window, the only thing I could make out beneath the swaying fog was the Devil’s Chair. The car stopped there and my heart sped up. When I turned to ask why we were stopped there of all places, I caught the eyes of the driver in the rearview and my question died in my throat.
“The gate takes a moment,” River explained.
I looked around again. “There are no people here.”
“It is pretty desolate, isn’t it?” He looked outside. “They must all be enjoying the concert.”
“That doesn’t seem right.” I shook my head and looked outside again. Every window brought the same emptiness. “I don’t understand. The people that . . . a lot of people come for the chair and for the house. Someone would be here, surely.”
“Do you want to get out and find out for yourself?”
“No.” I shivered and crossed my arms.
The gates opened, welcoming us in, as if my refusal to be near the chair was what it had been waiting for. When we drove past the gates, I turned to watch them shut behind us and felt my fate seal. I was going to the Caliban Manor and I was going with a Caliban. The heir to the house and the family’s troubles. That was what my father always said about firstborns. It was the way he introduced me to all of his friends. “This is my daughter, the heir to all of my troubles.” With that memory, a heaviness settled inside of me.
“It’s so dark out here. I can’t even tell where we are.” I cleared my throat, needing a distraction. Memories. For years the only wish I had was for some of my memories to return, my memories from home, which seemed as murky as the air around us. Yet, with remembrance came pain.
“We’ll be there soon.” River glanced at me, meeting my eyes.
“Do you go into town often?”
“Sometimes. When I’m meeting someone.”
“Like for a date?”
“Could be a date.”
“Hm.” I swallowed and looked away momentarily. “Do you normally bring your dates back to the house? I can’t imagine what that must be like when the tide is high.”
“We have boats.” His eyes twinkled.
“They say this water is angry. I’m not really sure I’d ever get on a boat.”
“I’m sure you would in the right circumstance.”
“Why are you selling?” I asked suddenly. The car began its track up the winding hill and I needed to take my mind off the idea that we could go overboard anytime.
“I’m not sure that I am. I just want to know what my options are.”
“Oh.”
“My father is ill. My mother never did quite like this house. She’s looking to move to the Italian countryside, someplace far.”
“Oh.” My brows rose. “Your mother . . . Sarah?”
“Stepmother. Yes.” River’s