Nightwish (An Echoes of Eternity Novel Book 1) (27 page)

One of the men attempted to hook a bill in her bra, but Alexis swatted his finger, which turned him on based on the way he grinned at her, and shifted her hip, allowing him to slide it in that section instead. When the other man came forward, she allowed him to slide a bill into either side her bikini top, giving the impression that each zone of her body required a specific amount of cash. She slinked closer to him, placed a palm against his cheek, and almost kissed his lips. Then she hopped to her feet in one slick motion and strutted away until she disappeared behind the curtain as the song ended.

The way she interacted with these customers looked rehearsed, as though she’d performed this ritual so frequently that she now went through the motions, bored and uninspired. And that stunned me. It seemed that dancers needed to vary their performance and rely on spontaneity in order to retain their client base. A second later, however, a different line of logic presented itself: Alexis had most likely read her customer’s minds and lived out their fantasies. And who knew how many times she had lived out this exact routine? Which would explain her disinterest.

That brought on other questions. Did Alexis give lap dances? Or private dances? Did she do…other things? Repulsed by the perverted possibilities, I had to get out of there.

I spun around and headed for the exit. Just as I grabbed the door handle, I saw a debonair-looking man wearing a black suit, watching me from the corner of the room with rapt attention. Rather than irises, the circular portions of his eyes glowed white and electrical currents spread toward his eyelids in every direction like spider webs. That bizarre image sent a shiver down my spine.

He didn’t leer. It seemed like he’d recognized me, that we’d met once before and he was trying to place me. For whatever reason, I stopped, unable to leave until I, too, could put a face with a name. But the longer I stared, the more confused I became.

After another five seconds, I concluded that I’d never seen him before, but something about his querulous look seemed familiar. He shifted in place, allowing the light overhead to shine down on his face, revealing a scar on his left cheekbone. I scanned my memory for that same expression, and it didn’t take long to realize that I’d seen it only yesterday in
The Antique Boutique
.

Mephisto!

Although his eyes hadn’t flashed red, as had occurred earlier in the shop, I had no doubt that the demon had once more entered my mind, just as Alexis had done, only without any tipoff, and had forced me to stand still until I identified him.

But Mephisto had ditched the fanboy outfit for a three-piece suit. Gone were the childish Minnie Mouse watch, the bulging belly, and the unrefined air of someone who cut his own hair because he didn’t trust a hair stylist to do a competent job. Instead, he had broad shoulders, short, dark hair, and the air of a multi-millionaire playboy who flew across the globe for business deals and couldn’t spend more than one night with the same woman. Obviously, he had shapeshifting abilities.

But what was he doing here? Was he spying on me…or my sister?

I blinked, only to find that he’d vanished. I craned my neck in every direction, wondering where he’d gone, but just as he’d done yesterday, Mephisto had disappeared without a trace.

When would he appear again? And
whom
would he appear as? It seemed like he enjoyed messing with me, and I suspected that he’d continue doing so for as long as he liked. That meant I might not find out the questions that haunted me…for quite some time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After my sister left the club six hours later, I followed her to a gym named X-Sport Fitness in Logan Square. I figured that Alexis would need at
least
ninety minutes of conditioning at the gym each day to maintain her figure, but I grew antsy at the idea of sitting around for more than another hour. That’s when a startling thought struck: my sister might be able to give me some information about the grimoire, but given Delphine’s duplicity, I doubt she’d have told Alexis everything she knew about her heritage.

So why not question Delphine to get as much information as possible? Only not as me, but as Alexis!

Uncertain whether or not I could pull off the transformation, I caught sight of a bag of clean yet somewhat revealing clothes I kept in a bag on the backseat…in case I happened to be invited on stage at a fellow band’s show and needed to present the proper attire as the vocalist of a heavy metal band. After changing in a stall at a nearby gas station bathroom, I headed over to my mother’s house and planned to knock, but thought better of it: Alexis wouldn’t knock on her own door.

I tried the front door. It shocked me that Delphine would leave the front door unlocked. Then I realized—what would a trio of witches have to fear…from anybody?

“Mother?” I called out.

Celestina sat up against the couch reading
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
, while a tune by Blake Shelton played on the stereo in the background. She had most likely just wrapped up the school year. She drew back, confused. “You’re not…Wait! Aunt Serena?”

I put my finger to my lips, eliciting a shhh-sound.

She jumped to her feet and gestured to the other room, tipping me off that Delphine was nearby. My niece hurried toward me with a sneaky smile. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I want to talk to your grandmother. But I don’t think—”

A door down the hall opened. “Is your mother home?” asked Delphine.

Celestina motioned to her grandmother’s presence. “She’s coloring her hair. She does it, like, every week or something. Otherwise, she’d have white hair.” She gave me an odd look. “Will you get white hair like that?” Then she drew her head back, aghast. “Will I?” She took in a deep breath and turned toward the hall. “It’s Mom,” she shouted. “She didn’t go to the gym.”

Delphine slammed the door, disinterested.

I hoped that my mother finished stripping her hair sooner rather than later. Alexis could appear at any moment, and I wanted to get as many answers as quickly as possible. I took a spot on the sofa beside my niece and glanced over my shoulder. “When do you think she’ll be done?”

“Who knows?” My niece shrugged. “Mom and Granny keep asking me questions about the last time you were here. You know, when you were here, but you really weren’t?”

I nodded. “It’s called astral projection.”

“That is
so
cool. Can you teach me?”

“No, it’s only something I can do. Sort of like how you can foretell the future.”

“Oh, got it. So what are you doing here? If they find out—”

“We’ll have to make it quick then.” I figured that it might take Delphine a while before she finished, so I thought I’d hit up my niece for information. She may have overheard something she shouldn’t have. “Why do your mom and grandma want the grimoire?”

She shrugged. “To learn stuff, I guess.”

“What will they learn?”

Indifferent, she said. “Beats me.”

When I thought about a thirteen-year-old girl stuck in the midst of our family power struggle, I became uneasy. “But they can’t read it,” I said. “Only if Grams allowed them to own it could they read it. So why would they want it?”

“It’s a book?”

Puzzled by her inquiry, not to mention her curious expression, I had no follow-up question. I’d presumed that my mother and sister sought information in the form of the written word.

“I’m sorry your granny died.”

Seeing such an empathetic expression, I clenched my teeth, trying not to let sadness overwhelm me. I spotted a half-filled bottle of liquor in the kitchen. In order to convincingly play the part, I needed to act like Alexis, so I went over and retrieved it.

“Was she a good granny?”

I nodded, a knot constricting my throat, making it impossible to speak.

Celestina balled her hands in her lap. “My granny doesn’t like me.” She met my gaze with a shamed expression. “And I don’t like her. I know I should, but I don’t.” Tears shone in her eyes. “She’s soooo…” She looked at a long-sleeve of her Black Widow sweatshirt and had a difficult time swallowing. “She…” Celestina dropped her head. “I hate...” She let out a hesitant, yet silent, cry, and moisture spilled down her cheeks. “I hate her
so much
,” she wheezed. “I hate her.” She slammed one fist into the other. “I just
hate
her!”

A swell of emotion overcame me. I put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Once more, I was stunned by how natural that gesture felt, and judging by the smile on her face, she also appreciated our close bond.

“I’m sorry.”

It figured that Celestina would blame herself for something outside of her control. She took on too many burdens that had nothing to do with her, and for that, I sympathized with her.

A door opened down the hall.

Celestina pushed me away in fright. “You’re not
you
, remember?”

“Oh,” I said, irritated for letting my feelings erase my uneasiness. In my pocket, my cell phone vibrated. I slipped it out to find that Kendall had texted: “Why won’t you unlock the door? I’m right outside the shop.”

That didn’t sound right, so I typed in, “I’m not at the shop. I’m at my sister’s house talking with my niece.”

“That means Alexis is inside the shop.”

My sister’s unpredictable nature shouldn’t have surprised me. But I hadn’t expected her to impersonate me at the same time I was impersonating her. “How did she get inside? Is the door still locked?”

“Yes.”

“She probably used a charm of some kind.” I turned to Celestina. “Is there a spell to open a locked door?”

She chuckled. “There’s a spell for
everything
.”

“Uh, huh,” said Delphine from behind me. “But not everyone can enact a spell.” She strutted down the hall, her head glistening wet and black from the dye she’d just put in her hair. She gestured toward the bottle in my hand. “Did the booze make you forget you had a mind? Lay off the sauce, like your sister said. Maybe then you’ll be able to remember simple shit!” She looked at Celestina. “It’s grown up talk time. Go to your room.”

“
Don’t
talk to her like that,” I said, anger burning into my chest.

“What do you care? You’re the one pleasuring men when she gets home from school. I’m the one helping her with her homework.”

“And she’s scared of you!”

Delphine set a grimace on my niece. “What did you tell her?”

That mistrust dialed my anger toward levels of rage: only someone with something to hide would act with such vehemence toward a child. “What do you mean?” I asked her, doing my best to force down the heat rushing through my body.

My mother ignored the question. Instead, she glared at Celestina. “
What
did you say?”

Celestina’s head sagged. She didn’t respond, lest she get a tongue-lashing.

Delphine reached out, grabbed my niece’s forearm, and yanked Celestina toward her, evoking an unexpected grunt as she slammed into my mother’s hip.

As Celestina’s shirtsleeve drew upward with movement, I spotted a dark, circular bruise on her forearm, which sparked an answer to my unasked question of why Celestina constantly wore long-sleeved shirts. She did so because Delphine abused her!

“Let her go,” I said, raising my gaze from my niece’s bruise to my mother’s face. “I said, let her go. Now!”

“Or what?”

Without thought, I charged my mother and punched her in the cheek.

It sent Delphine backwards and forced her to release Celestina. She drew her fingers against the spot I’d punched. “You…hit me!”

“You will
never
touch her again.” Satisfied that my niece was out of striking distance, I said, “Do you hear me?”

“I can’t believe—”

“
Do you hear me
?” I shouted, sensing that balls of fire would soon shoot from my hands.

My mother glanced at her fingers, relieved that they hadn’t come away bloody. Then she set her gaze on mine. “You have no idea what you’re—”

“Shut up!” I concentrated on keeping the flames from blasting out of my palms. “Unless you want me to burn you into a crisp, you’re going to give me answers.”

“Huh?” Delphine stared at me, shaking her head as though seeing double. “What?”

“Can anyone cast a spell?”

“You’re trashed. Again.” Delphine laughed. “You silly fool: you know only someone with paranormal power can enact a spell. If you’re tuned-in to the supernatural,
you
can harness the supernatural.” She studied my face. “You don’t…look drunk.” Realization came over her. “Ah, Serena! Now that remark about burning me ‘into a crisp’ makes sense. I should have known. My
real
daughter wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me…But I’ll play along and answer your question. To think that an ordinary human can just recite a spell and…magic occurs?” She chortled. “To them…they’re just words. They’re meaningless. Only someone who can see or sense our world can make those words come alive.” She placed her gaze on mine. “You’re so ignorant. You have
so
much to learn.”

“Why do you want
The Book of Souls
?”

Delphine cracked a smile. “See?” she asked in a wondrous voice. “So ignorant!”

“What’s so important about it?”

Rather than answer, my mother threw her head back and laughed.

I got the impression that Delphine had remained impassive to keep me busy while Alexis stole the grimoire from the shop. I seized Celestina’s wrist, ran across the room to the door, and hurried outside before my mother could follow us.

As we raced across the grass in the front yard toward my car, the hair on the back of my neck lifted. I risked a glance behind me.

Delphine stood on the front step, glaring at me.

When we reached the car, I unlocked the doors, and hurried into my vehicle as Celestina got into the passenger seat. I started it up and stomped on the accelerator, speeding away from the street and heading toward
The Antique Boutique
in hopes that Celestina might be able to help me stop Alexis from stealing the grimoire.