you should know the rules either way.”
He grasped my elbow and pulled me toward the circle. My socks slid across the polished hardwood as I tried to stop. I didn’t want to go any closer.
“The circle is a barrier. It’s impenetrable to the demon, but only to the demon.” He gestured at the black dome. “You can pass through it just fine. You wouldn’t even feel it. One slip …”
His hand tightened on my arm, then he shoved me toward the flimsy silver line. A terrified gasp seized my lungs and I flailed backward, even though I was several steps away.
He laughed. “So don’t get close. One toe over that line and the demon will haul you in and rip you apart. Don’t drop anything in there either. Even a coin can be deadly in a demon’s hands. It can’t get its magic through the barrier, so make sure you don’t hand it weapons.”
I automatically checked my jeans pockets for change. I never carried change.
“If it tries to get your attention or calls you over, don’t listen. And don’t ever speak to the demon. If it shows itself, get me or Claude immediately.” He glowered at the impenetrable darkness. “Not that I expect it to. The most obstinate demon I’ve ever encountered. If it doesn’t respond soon …” He abruptly refocused on me. “You’re to stay out of this room, understood? I don’t want you in here alone.”
“All right.”
“Good.” Then, contradicting his words, he swept right past me and out of the library.
Rooted to the spot, I mentally floundered. The open doorway beckoned, safety only steps away, but the inky dome drew my gaze. Shivers rippled down my spine. It was so cold in here.
A soft sound whispered on the edge of my senses and I sucked in a breath. In the silence, I could almost hear something. Something like …
A low, husky laugh crawled out of the darkness inside the circle.
My blood turned to ice and I bolted out of the library.
Chapter Three
Facing the closed door, I took slow, controlled breaths. This wasn’t the library door in the basement and no demons waited on the other side, but I was almost as nervous.
Deep, deliberate breaths. I summoned a mental image of the book I was reading: Chapter Six, “Confidence in Confrontation.” I visualized the coming conversation and how I wanted it to go, then pushed my shoulders back and straightened my spine, giving myself a precious inch of additional height. I rapped on the door.
“Who is it?” Uncle Jack barked from within.
“Robin.” My voice didn’t tremble. A good start.
“Get in here, then.”
I opened the door and stepped into his office. The room had started as a den, and a cushy sofa in the corner invited visitors to sit down, maybe have a snooze. Ugly filing cabinets ruined the elegance of the solid wood desk, its top blanketed with papers. Two leather chairs sat in front of it, waiting for Uncle Jack’s next “clients.”
As he hammered furiously on his keyboard, I inched into the room, then remembered I needed to project confidence. I took three long steps to a chair and perched on the edge. The dusty odor of printer toner mixed with his spicy cologne.
He continued typing, his stubby fingers stabbing the keys. I waited, counting in my head. When I got to thirty, I cleared my throat.
He kept typing.
“Uncle Jack?”
“What do you want, Robin?”
I fought the urge to shrink. Chapter Six, Part Three. “Visualize your results. Remember your goal.”
“I’d like to discuss my parents’ will.”
Saying the words stirred my grief into a fresh spiral, and my hands twitched against my thighs.
His gaze snapped to me, then back to his monitor. His typing didn’t stutter. “I don’t like repeating myself, Robin. These things take time. There are lawyers and paperwork, and the insurance company requires ten forms for every little thing.”
“It’s been six months.” Plus three days, but I wasn’t counting. “It shouldn’t take this long to—”
“Not every estate is easy to settle.” His hands stilled and he swiveled to face me, his bald head shining grossly. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get your inheritance, and I’m doing everything I can to make that happen. Is it that painful to live here for a few weeks? I’m not charging you rent, am I?”
My gaze dipped toward the nice, safe floor, which neither glared at me nor casually dismissed my parents’ early demise, but I caught myself and forced my eyes back up. Living here hadn’t been my first choice.