when the ghosts come out and play,” Izzie said in a deliberately affected low and dramatic tone, followed by a
bwa-ha-ha
bark of laughter that sounded even funnier with a German accent. “Maybe they will visit us tonight.”
“Don’t make jokes,” Claire muttered. “Real Infernals are bad enough.”
“Who says I’m joking? I watched a television show on this place just last week. One of those ghost hunter series.”
Richens nodded. “We have similar programs in the U.K.”
“What are you talking about?” Claire asked.
“There are people,” Edwards explained, “who goto allegedly haunted locations and try to find proof of supernatural activity. They record their activities for television.”
“Vraiment?”
Claire’s brows rose. “With what type of equipment do they search?”
Ken laughed. “A camcorder and a torch. Mostly all you see is screaming in the dark.”
“Yes,” Izzie agreed. “That is what I saw. It was strange that they waited until the middle of the night to ‘investigate.’ They deliberately turned the lights off, too. What is the reasoning behind doing that? If there are Infernals in the place, they don’t give a shit if the lights are on or not.”
“Torches?” Eve asked.
“Flashlights,” Gadara explained.
Claire frowned. “What is the purpose?”
“Entertainment,” Richens muttered.
“For whom? The persons screaming in the dark? Or the television viewers?”
“I don’t get it either,” Eve said, figuring she could contribute at least that much to the discussion.
Everyone looked at her, then resumed speaking.
“So are there truly Infernals in this place?” Claire asked. “Or just overactive imaginations?”
“There are Infernals everywhere,” Gadara reminded. “But what fuels these shows are rumor and conjecture. However, if there are Infernals nearby when the shows are filming, they sometimes play along for their own amusement.”
Eve pushed back from the table and stood, taking her plate with her. “I need to make a call before it gets too late.”
“To Cain?” Laurel’s smile was brittle.
“Who I call is none of your business.”
“You are fortunate to have someone to answer you,” Romeo murmured, rubbing his fingertips up and down Laurel’s spine.
Eve knew her situation was rare. She couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or not. Did her lingering connection to her family mean she didn’t have many indulgences to earn to gain her freedom? Or was her connection to Cain so valuable that her family ties were worth overlooking?
Setting her plate on the counter by the sink, Eve exited out the kitchen door and sat on the cement stoop. Above her, the sky was a gorgeous midnight blue. An inordinate number of stars twinkled between rapidly moving clouds. In her hometown, pollution created a charcoal gray night that hid much of the universe’s celestial beauty, but Eve would gladly trade being there for here.
She punched in Alec’s number. As the phone rang, Eve brushed her hair back from her damp forehead. She became dizzy if she moved too quickly, and her breathing was coming fast and shallow. The mark only allowed such reactions when arousal or a hunt was involved. Stress and illness weren’t factors.
So what the fuck is wrong with me?
Her physical acclimation to the mark had been screwy from the get-go, fading in and out like someone twisting the volume knob on a radio.
“You’ve reached Alec Cain. Leave a message or call Meggido Industries at 800-555-7777.”
The sound of Alec’s voice made Eve’s throat tight.“Come back in one piece,” she told his voicemail. “And call me when you can.”
Feeling in need of some fussing, she speed-dialed her parents and waited impatiently for one of them to pick up. They would check the caller ID first, since they never answered calls from numbers they didn’t recognize—
“Hey, darlin’.”
Eve smiled at the sound of her father’s familiar drawl. “Hey, Dad. What are you
bwa-ha-ha
bark of laughter that sounded even funnier with a German accent. “Maybe they will visit us tonight.”
“Don’t make jokes,” Claire muttered. “Real Infernals are bad enough.”
“Who says I’m joking? I watched a television show on this place just last week. One of those ghost hunter series.”
Richens nodded. “We have similar programs in the U.K.”
“What are you talking about?” Claire asked.
“There are people,” Edwards explained, “who goto allegedly haunted locations and try to find proof of supernatural activity. They record their activities for television.”
“Vraiment?”
Claire’s brows rose. “With what type of equipment do they search?”
Ken laughed. “A camcorder and a torch. Mostly all you see is screaming in the dark.”
“Yes,” Izzie agreed. “That is what I saw. It was strange that they waited until the middle of the night to ‘investigate.’ They deliberately turned the lights off, too. What is the reasoning behind doing that? If there are Infernals in the place, they don’t give a shit if the lights are on or not.”
“Torches?” Eve asked.
“Flashlights,” Gadara explained.
Claire frowned. “What is the purpose?”
“Entertainment,” Richens muttered.
“For whom? The persons screaming in the dark? Or the television viewers?”
“I don’t get it either,” Eve said, figuring she could contribute at least that much to the discussion.
Everyone looked at her, then resumed speaking.
“So are there truly Infernals in this place?” Claire asked. “Or just overactive imaginations?”
“There are Infernals everywhere,” Gadara reminded. “But what fuels these shows are rumor and conjecture. However, if there are Infernals nearby when the shows are filming, they sometimes play along for their own amusement.”
Eve pushed back from the table and stood, taking her plate with her. “I need to make a call before it gets too late.”
“To Cain?” Laurel’s smile was brittle.
“Who I call is none of your business.”
“You are fortunate to have someone to answer you,” Romeo murmured, rubbing his fingertips up and down Laurel’s spine.
Eve knew her situation was rare. She couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or not. Did her lingering connection to her family mean she didn’t have many indulgences to earn to gain her freedom? Or was her connection to Cain so valuable that her family ties were worth overlooking?
Setting her plate on the counter by the sink, Eve exited out the kitchen door and sat on the cement stoop. Above her, the sky was a gorgeous midnight blue. An inordinate number of stars twinkled between rapidly moving clouds. In her hometown, pollution created a charcoal gray night that hid much of the universe’s celestial beauty, but Eve would gladly trade being there for here.
She punched in Alec’s number. As the phone rang, Eve brushed her hair back from her damp forehead. She became dizzy if she moved too quickly, and her breathing was coming fast and shallow. The mark only allowed such reactions when arousal or a hunt was involved. Stress and illness weren’t factors.
So what the fuck is wrong with me?
Her physical acclimation to the mark had been screwy from the get-go, fading in and out like someone twisting the volume knob on a radio.
“You’ve reached Alec Cain. Leave a message or call Meggido Industries at 800-555-7777.”
The sound of Alec’s voice made Eve’s throat tight.“Come back in one piece,” she told his voicemail. “And call me when you can.”
Feeling in need of some fussing, she speed-dialed her parents and waited impatiently for one of them to pick up. They would check the caller ID first, since they never answered calls from numbers they didn’t recognize—
“Hey, darlin’.”
Eve smiled at the sound of her father’s familiar drawl. “Hey, Dad. What are you
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