The area behind me was deserted. So far.
Dry grass crunched under my feet as I forced myself to take one tentative step forward, then another. A car whizzed past. The ocean churned below.
With shaking fingers, I grasped the clasp of the locket, ready to release the dirt into the waters below.
It wouldn’t open.
I pulled harder, the cool metal biting against my fingers.
“Come on.” It wouldn’t budge.
Sweet switch stars. I had to get rid of this tainted dirt. I felt sick with it. Claustrophobic. I needed the grave dirt off of me. Now.
It was as if the fricking thing were welded shut.
I wanted to collapse and cry. Maybe I would have if I hadn’t been so petrified of the cliff, and the ocean, and what could happen if I let my guard down for a second.
There was only one thing left to do and, Hades, I wasn’t even sure I could pull it off.
Dimitri had gifted me this enchanted necklace soon after we met. It was meant to be with me always, to protect me. Back when I was first learning my powers, it had been impossible to take off. Now, I had to change that.
“I’m sorry, Dimitri,” I said, focusing every bit of my power and concentration on the task ahead. “I renounce our agreement,” I said, feeling the sting of my own betrayal. It had to be done. “Though the emerald was freely given” —I paused before I could force myself to say the words out loud— “It is no longer freely accepted.”
I could almost feel his heart break a little from here. Dimitri would understand why I broke our protection bond. He had to. He may not, however, be so generous about what I planned to do after I removed his family heirloom.
I grasped the necklace on either side, felt it hum in protest as I lifted it slowly. It grew heavier every second, but I kept going until I was free. I felt strange without it. Naked.
The necklace dangled from my hand, its bronze cord in sharp relief against my clutched hand. I tried one last time to open the locket, with its gleaming teardrop emerald.
This necklace had given me so much joy, and anguish.
I focused on the good times. The time it had morphed into a crazy medieval helmet. The time I’d had to wear it as a Las Vegas stripper bra. I felt it pulse with energy as I held it over the edge of the cliff.
This was better than taking a chance that it was acting against me. I had friends to worry about, family as well. Dimitri would have to understand.
The metal chain hummed and went liquid. It attempted to cling to my hand, to wind itself up and around my wrist. I brushed it away. “Goodbye,” I said, as I tossed it over the cliff.
It stuck to my hand.
“Frick.” I tried to peel it away. It stuck to my other hand. “Oh, come on.”
It was weak, most likely from the grave dirt. Still, it would
I could hit it with a switch star, not at this range. Can’t say I wasn’t tempted.
Of course it had attached itself to my throwing hand.
“This is the way it has to be,” I said, giving it one final, violent toss over the edge.
It clung to my middle finger.
God bless America. It was official: I hated this necklace. I hated the ghost, and I needed to punch something except there was nothing to hit. I swung my arm around anyway. The necklace went with it, swinging by the chain, and smacked me hard on the cheek. My head rang and my skin stung.
“Fine!” I yelled to nobody in particular. This was such a mess.
I trudged back to the mansion, with a throbbing left cheek and a necklace attached to my throwing hand.
Frieda stood on the front porch, sneaking a smoke. She knew better than to say anything as I stormed past her.
The second I walked into the house, the necklace let go and collapsed in a heap onto the floor in the foyer. I was tempted to leave it there. Instead, I scooped it up in the wide skirt of my sundress and hurried it up to my room. Once I got there, I opened the top dresser drawer, cleared out my underwear, and let go of the necklace. It willingly dropped inside.
That settled it. I’d be sleeping with Dimitri tonight. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing.
I clutched the dresser as a heaviness descended on me. It wound in my stomach, cold and evil. I didn’t understand what was happening for a second until a sickening realization clicked into place. My demon slayer senses were waking, prickling like a blood-starved limb as they came back. Along with them, came the horrifying realization that we stood on cursed ground.
It screamed at me. I tried to breathe through it. Sweat slicked my body. Searing hate slashed at me, and I had to force myself to shut down a little.
Damn. If I’d felt a tenth of this on the first day, I never would have set foot inside this house. I could even feel the markers, pulsing.
Nausea hit me in waves as I tried to shut down more, to block the potent energy of this place. I had to get my friends and family out of here as soon as I could.
That meant destroying the markers. I shoved myself away from the dresser and stumbled toward the door. Every step I took, I tried to shut down a small portion of the cavalcade of emotions that threatened to overpower me.
Fear.
Longing.
One-by-one, I closed myself off. Until I felt the vicious energy as a muted throbbing at the back of my skull.
I paused for a few minutes at the top of the stairs, until I felt balanced enough to make it down all the way. Frieda stood talking with Ant Eater at then entrance to the sitting room.
The blond biker witch’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She scrunched her face, as if afraid to say the next part. “You look like…”
“Hell,” Ant Eater finished for her.
In this case, the curly haired witch wasn’t too far off.
“Where’s Rachmort?” I asked.
Ant Eater cocked her head. “In the dining room.”
I found him at a large mahogany table, with a half-eaten sandwich at his elbow, playing cards with Pirate. He’d propped up a book so Pirate could display his hand with nobody peeking. My dog was standing on one of the nice chairs like he belonged there.
Rachmort peered over his cards. “How about…three of hearts.”
“Ha!” Pirate pawed the edge of the table. “Go fish!”
The necromancer drew a card from the stack while my dog’s tail wagged itself into a blur. “I am so good at this game. There should be a championship. I would be the Go Fish Ace!”
“I hate to interrupt your game,” I began.
“Then you stay over there,” Pirate said, “I’m winning.”
Too bad. “Rachmort, I need to talk to you.”
The necromancer glanced at me. “I forfeit,” he said, laying his cards down. “You win.”
“Yyyes! Zam!” Pirate hopped off his chair. “You see that, Lizzie?” He followed us as I motioned Rachmort into the kitchen. “Let’s go best seven out of ten.”
“Pirate, I need him alone,” I said.
My dog kept coming. “Twelve out of fifteen?”
“Why don’t you finish my sandwich?” Rachmort asked.
“Let’s take a break.” Pirate trotted off.
Luckily the kitchen was deserted. Rachmort and I crouched over the island. Even still, I leaned in closer. “I
