to guess that someone had stuck it in his neck and used it to keep him in his current state of half man, half beast. The disks could hold magic, and somehow the disk in Greyson held both dark and light magic, and whatever spell worked into it made him the half beast.
My guess was that Dr. Frank Gordon had done it to him, probably around the same time he’d dug up my dad’s grave and tried to possess my dad’s spirit to open up a gateway to death and draw dark magic into the world. Things hadn’t gone the way Dr. Frank Gordon had wanted them to go. Namely, instead of doing what Frank wanted, my dad had possessed me.
Then Greyson had hunted me. Well, not me. He wanted my dad’s spirit. I didn’t know why. Maybe revenge—that seemed like the easiest answer. What I did know was that letting Greyson get his hands on my dad’s spirit, and maybe my dad’s knowledge of magic, fell squarely in the middle of my Bad Things list.
And to make it all worse, Greyson used to be Chase’s boyfriend, maybe even her Soul Complement. She had dumped Zayvion to be with Greyson before Greyson had gotten so screwed up.
I closed my eyes, trying to regain my calm. I was okay; everything was okay. The cage would hold Greyson. Why did they have him caged?
Why was Dad talking from way over there? My dad wasn’t in Greyson. He was in me. Maybe not the best thing, but certainly better than the other options.
“Allison,” Maeve said. “Come down the stairs.” She didn’t put Influence behind it, didn’t even make it sound like a command. Just calm, gentle. Motherly.
If I remembered correctly, I wasn’t listening to her motherly commands.
I opened my eyes. Zayvion, Shame, and Maeve all stood on the bottom step, looking up at me like I was about to burst into flames.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just. It’s just.” I took a step. My knees went wet-noodle and I had to hold the rail to keep from falling. What the hell was wrong with me?
I gritted my teeth and pulled my shoulders back. I could do this. I could walk down these stairs without falling. Did it too. Stood in front of Maeve, breathing a little too hard, sweating a little too much.
She put one finger under my chin and looked up into my eyes.
The good thing? One look from her and Dad stopped scraping at the backs of my eyes.
The bad thing? Greyson growled. Not quite a howl. It was more of a low moan-yell. The hairs on my arms pricked up, and goose bumps tightened my skin.
Allison, I heard my father whisper. Yes, from outside my head. Again.
“I don’t think . . .” My breath gave out, so I tried again. “I don’t think you need to look,” I managed. “He’s there. And in Greyson. I think he’s in Greyson too.”
Maeve’s eyes flicked back and forth, probably seeing more inside me than I really wanted her to.
Greyson howled as Maeve looked deeper in my mind for my dad. He wanted the rest of my dad’s spirit in me. The cage shook. I hoped the steel bars could hold him. I hoped the magic in this room could hold him.
“We have been through Greyson’s mind,” Maeve said. “Jingo Jingo has been through his mind and has seen nothing, no trace of your father in him.”
Yeah, well, Jingo Jingo had been through my mind and said my father wasn’t there either. I’d already told her that a dozen times. She never believed me.
“You know what I think about Jingo Jingo’s ability to sense my father.” It came out calm. Reasonable. Strong.
Go, me.
“I do. Jingo Jingo is an expert at sensing the dead. You are not.”
“Jingo Jingo isn’t the one who’s possessed.”
We stared at each other for a couple seconds.
“He could be wrong,” I pressed.
Maeve was a woman made of stubborn. So was I.
“Can you feel the well?” she asked, suddenly switching subjects.
I held my breath, trying to keep from yelling. The well was the least of our problems. The caged killer Necromorph half-beast dude over there, who had a part of my father in his head that no one else could see, and a desire to drag the rest of dear ol’ dad out of me even if it meant killing me, was something I thought we should all be a little worried about. “Why?” I asked.