Someone had smuggled Checkers into the hospital in the dead of night and he now lay contentedly at the foot of my bed, covered by a warm, oversized weighted blanket draped over my calves. Angelo had sweet-talked the staff into believing Checkers was an emotional support animal, using his signature incubus charm to get the hospital to bend its rules. Checkers’ purring was so soothing that it acted as a white noise machine, lulling me to sleep more than once. People moved in and out of my room often, changing out fluid bags, injecting things into my IV port, or camping out next to my bed. Angelo was the most common visitor. He’d healed up the quickest, only needing a few stitches beneath his eye. It made him look roguish, as if the maiming had only been meant to accentuate his looks, not detract from them.

  He’d left to get himself food and returned fifteen minutes later, carrying two juice bottles and a pair of granola bars. He offered one to me.

  “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Famished,” I admitted. “But that’s not what I thought you meant when you said you were going out for food.”

  His lips curled into an utterly wicked grin and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “You thought I was going to corner some poor hospital intern in a supply closet and have my way with her?”

  I blushed. “Well... yeah. I mean... you’re a sex demon, so isn’t that what you do?”

  “I’m not hungry at the moment. Unless you’re offering me dessert?”

  He gave me a meaningful look then, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. It made me laugh, in spite of myself, which hurt.

  “No, I’m not offering,” I managed.

  “Damn and here I was thinking you were offering your savior a prize,” he said, still wearing that smile.

  “While I am certainly... grateful to you... beyond grateful, actually, I’m afraid being your dessert would probably kill me.”

  He shook his head at that. “It would take some of your energy, but it would help your current pain levels.”

  “Would it?” I asked facetiously.

  He nodded insistingly. “When I kiss something all better, it feels incredible. You wouldn’t come down from the high for a week. Much better than morphine, trust me.”

  I peeled the wrapper from my granola bar, rather than meet his eyes. No matter what he said, I was sure that if I met his smoldering gaze, I’d do something stupid, like agreeing to be his dessert. That was sure to raise my heart rate or dislodge a tube, summoning every nurse from a mile around.

  “Yuck, just yuck,” Indie piped up.

  “Stop being so prudish,” I responded. “Aren’t you supposed to be a witch who delights in sex for its own sake?”

  “Not with an incubus. Even I have standards.”

  “Right.”

  My hands shook when I screwed off the lid to my juice and took a swig. Just the thought of Angelo had heat surging south. Damn it, I didn’t even know him. He shouldn’t have had this kind of effect on me. Stupid to want an incubus like I did. He was the very definition of the word ‘player’.

  “Exactly.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked when I didn’t answer him.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for buying me.”

  He snorted, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Um. You’re welcome.”

  “I know that sounded weird, but I mean it. Really. It wouldn’t have ended well if Murrain got his hands on me. He’s...” I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing at the goosebumps that popped along the skin of my arms.

  “Don’t give away too much,” Indie warned me.

  “He’s a bad guy, Angelo.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression. What do you know about him?”

  “Not a lot,” I admitted. “Just enough to know I never want to get anywhere near him again.” I paused then. “How are you?”

  “Tired,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. It was artfully mussed, styled in a way to give women ideas of what he might look like with sex hair. Or maybe it was just unintentional on his part. “And physically hungry. I don’t usually indulge in actual food this often, but there wasn’t much time for a quick, human snack on the way to get you.”

  “Then you do eat real food?”

  He chuckled at that. “Of course.”

  “Does it appease you, though?”

  “It appeases a growling stomach, if that’s what you’re asking.” That devil’s smile again.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “I mainly try to feed—on energy—when I’m on a date.”

  “So, what, you mostly live on snack foods like chips and dip?”

  He flashed me a gleaming smile. “Twinkies. You could say I have a sweet tooth.”

  “Twinkies don’t count as food. They’re chemical bombs.”

  “Twinkies do too count,” he said grinning. “So do Monster energy drinks.”

  “Energy drinks are bad for you.”

  “So, is getting kidnapped by a demon and sold on the black market, but that’s working pretty well for us, isn’t it?”

  I laughed, and he glowed with smug satisfaction. Checkers crawled out from underneath the blankets, raised his head a fraction, giving the incubus the stink eye before burying his head under one paw, trying to get back to sleep.

  “How are Fifi and Anthony?”

  “Fine. Fifi expended a lot of energy trying to get us in the door so she’s resting.”

  “Then is she feeding to make up for it?” I found this whole feeding on life energy thing very interesting, I had to admit. And I also wondered what it might feel like.

  “Don’t get any ideas.”

  Angelo shrugged. “She should be trying to feed on someone, but she won’t. She’s monogamous with her Sasquatch boyfriend.”

  “Oh,” I answered, nodding. “Do you, er, does your species practice that—monogamy, I mean?”

  “No,” he answered with a laugh as he shook his head like monogamy was totally and utterly absurd.

  “Oh,” I answered again, not really sure what to say to that. He was just so cut and dry about it.

  “Don’t get caught up on an incubus, Lydia,” Indie warned me. “He’ll only break your heart. He isn’t capable of staying with one woman.”

  The look in his eyes sobered me up then. He looked... weary when he turned to me. Concerned.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  It sounded like it cost him to say it, and I wasn’t sure why. Was it really that hard for an incubus to express genuine human emotion? Or was this more of a macho thing, where he didn’t want to admit he’d worried about the outcome of his rescue mission for one solitary second?

  “You, too. You risked a lot to rescue me when you didn’t need to. I’m grateful.”

  He smiled briefly and then took my hand a moment later, giving it a light squeeze. “Please don’t get kidnapped again, I’d rather not have to make that drive twice.”

  “If it happens again, you can send me an invoice so I can compensate you for your time.”

  He smiled broadly, and sat back in his chair, releasing my hand. I could still feel the pressure of it, the warmth. I wanted him to take my hand again. It had been a long time since a man made me feel warm on the inside. Rodney hadn’t for years. Then something occurred to me,

  “Oh, hell, what day is it?”

  Angelo chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve made some calls and settled your legal woes. Being in the hospital is enough to make a judge sympathetic to the idea of a continuance.”

  “And it had nothing to do with the fact that the judge is a woman, and your voice can make a woman’s opposition melt into nothing?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Nothing at all to do with that.” Then he shrugged. “Take you, for instance.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “You’ve turned me down.”

  “Um,” I started, frowning, but then realized I supposed I had. “Yeah, I guess so. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who ever has.” Then I laughed, but the sound came out as more of a giggle, which was embarrassing.

  “You’re on a list with a few other names, I’ll admit.”

  Not wanting to think about Angelo and his list of conquests, I changed the subject. “How did Rodney take the continuance?”

  “The last I heard, he was sulking in a bar, and his new girlfriend was picking up the tab. It was kind of pathetic, really. The bastard didn’t seem too concerned that you’d been kidnapped.”

  “Of course, he wasn’t,” I answered, and couldn’t keep a note of bitterness out of my voice. “It would save him a lot of time and legal fees if I died, and he inherited the shop. He’s got to be out a lot of cash.”

  “Is he?”

  I nodded. “The divorce is running on three years and counting. At this rate, we’ll give Brexit a run for its money.”

  Angelo’s expression darkened. “Want me to arrange an accident for him?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, so I erred on the side of the less homicidal. As satisfying as the image of Rodney being hit by a bus was, it wasn’t right to let the demon I was crushing on set up a hit on him.

  “I’ll just be satisfied to have the divorce over and done with. Then he’s someone else’s problem.”

  Angelo opened his mouth as if he might say more, but shut it again when there was a knock at the door. Anthony strolled in a moment later, followed by a sweet-looking nurse in pink scrubs. Anthony had changed out of his formal robes and was now dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt bearing the hospital logo. He gave the nurse a winning smile.

  “Thanks, Delilah.”

  Delilah, the nurse, returned the smile, color rising into her cheeks. Indie fumed. She wasn’t the only one who seemed unhappy. Angelo was giving Anthony the sort of critical once-over I only saw before bar fights. The ‘could I take him?’ look.

  “Visiting hours are over in ten minutes,” Delilah said. “Anyone not currently injured will need to vacate the room. Mrs. Rourke needs sleep after what she’s been through.”

  “Of course,” Anthony agreed easily.

  Delilah nodded, satisfied by the answer, and strolled back out, leaving the door cracked open a fraction.

  Anthony looked me up and down. “You look like hell.” Then he nodded to Angelo, who nodded back at him.

  “I feel like hell,” I responded. “At least my insides aren’t on my outsides, though. That’s a plus. If Murrain had his way, I’d probably look like a pinata after the party.”

  His smile faltered. “Probably so. But, really, are you okay?”

  “I will be.”

  He nodded, scratching his chin. “I really am sorry about all this. I’d have been there sooner if I knew what was going on.” Anthony gave Angelo a sidelong glance, before turning his attention back to me. “Do you think we could talk about that in private?”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Angelo responded, which surprised me. Actually, the whole bit about Angelo coming to my rescue surprised me. I mean—he didn’t really strike me as the noble, heroic sort. He seemed like he’d be better playing the self-centered type and yet...

  “I think she should get a say in that, don’t you agree?” Anthony shot back.

  Angelo’s lips pressed into a hard line. I had to stretch to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Some of the tension in his body drained away when my fingers brushed his.

  “It’s okay. And I’ll see you before visiting hours are over?”

  Angelo nodded stiffly before backing out of the room, closing the door behind him. Anthony waited for a beat, straining his ears to track Angelo’s retreating footsteps. Then he turned back to me and fixed me with a level stare.

  “So, are you going to admit it, or am I going to have to call you out on it?”

  “Admit what?”

  Anthony’s eyes hardened. “That all along, you’ve been lying to me. I had my suspicions during the auction, but seeing you with Checkers confirms it. You weren’t telling the truth about what happened that day in your shop.”

  “What do I say?” I pressed Indie.

  “Pretend you don’t know what he means.”

  My mouth was suddenly and painfully dry. I tried to swallow and it hurt. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. I don’t know how or why, but something of Indigo latched onto you. I don’t know if it was transference from the violent nature of her death. I don’t know if something about your powers drew what was left of her magic into you, but I know it when I feel it. More than that, Checkers hasn’t left your side since we rescued you.” He looked at the cat then, who just ignored him and continued sleeping. “He wouldn’t be that loyal to anyone but Indigo and especially not someone who’s a gypsy.” Anthony’s eyes met mine again. “So, tell me what happened.”

  Relief made my eyes prick. Finally, there was someone in on the secret besides Indie’s familiar. I didn’t need to feel isolated with this secret anymore. I opened my mouth to tell him the truth and snapped it shut again when Indie’s voice rang through my head.

  “You can’t tell him.”

  “Why not?” I demanded. “He already knows the truth.”

  “He suspects the truth. He doesn’t know or he wouldn’t be asking. The point is: you can’t tell him about this. It would put him in danger from Murrain.”

  “But he was your parole officer, wasn’t he? He accepted that risk when he took the post. You’re his charge, he’s supposed to look after you. And you two were clearly head-over-heels for each other. So why are you telling me not to spill the beans?”

  Indie was quiet for a moment—a moment that felt infinitely longer to me. When she spoke, her tone was softer and more hopeless than I’d ever heard it. “That was a different life, Lydia. Now I’m just a tagalong in yours. I can’t force you to love the man I loved, and it isn’t fair to ask that of you. I shouldn’t be here, and I can’t take over your life. If you tell him, he’ll abandon his new post and he’ll pursue you, because he’ll think or he’ll hope that you are me. It would be too painful and unjust for you to date him, knowing he just sees you as the glove wrapped around the woman he wants to be with.”

  It cost her something to say those words. The regret in her voice had enough weight to bow my shoulders forward in despair. She was grieving the life she’d lost. Her emotions were completely bare to me for an instant. For the first time, I really understood her plight. It was its own kind of hell, in a way, existing without really living. As much as she annoyed me, she’d been a good houseguest as things went, never pushing me to resume her life where she’d left off. And she cared enough about me to not want me to suffer like she was, living a life that wasn’t really mine.

  “I’m sorry, Indigo,” I thought.

  “Indie,” she said with a sigh. “The nickname has grown on me like a virulent mold.”

  I fought back a smile. The concession was hard won, and it made me happier than it reasonably should have. When I straightened out of my defensive posture, Anthony was staring at me, trying to bore a hole through my forehead with his x-ray stare.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “It was magical transference,” I whispered. “I think the violence of her death made her magic more volatile at the end. It latched onto me as the nearest vessel in the room. That’s all it is—her magic that sunk into me.”

  Checkers’ ears flicked to the side in surprise, and he lifted his head to stare at me quizzically. Luckily, Anthony wasn’t glancing in his direction. His posture didn’t change but I could tell the answer disappointed him. He nodded once and scrubbed at his face. He looked abruptly exhausted.

  “Okay. I just needed to know before I reported back to my mother. She’ll assign someone to look after you when you move into the Hollow.”

  “Someone to look after me?”

  He nodded. “You’re going to need someone to watch over you after what happened. Murrain can’t attack the Hollow directly, but I’m sure he’ll try something, eventually.”

  I nodded back, not trusting my voice. If I opened my mouth I’d probably cry, releasing the sound of grief that Indie wanted to utter as he turned his back on us. He hesitated in the doorway for a second and then turned back, crossing the room in two long strides until he loomed over my bedside. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do then, and there was a strange expression on his face and in his eyes. He paused and then shook his head, turning around as he approached the door once more.

  “Goodbye, Lydia,” he said with his back facing me. “I’ll stay in touch.”

  And then he was gone, strolling out the door and disappearing like a thief in the night, taking a part of Indie’s heart with him. And, if I was honest, a sliver of mine too. I thought I understood why Indie liked him. He was a good man under all the arrogance.

  Angelo entered the room a moment later, scowling in the direction Anthony had gone. His eyes narrowed. And I realized that the same thing I’d just told Anthony, well I needed to tell Angelo, as well. It was the best explanation for why I was the way I was without actually admitting to the truth—a truth that I had to keep to myself.

  “Um... I have something to tell you about the whole witch thing.”

  Angelo raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  I took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell the lie that would become the narrative for every relationship I’d have in the Hollow from here on out.

  “When Indigo died, some of her power transferred to me...”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lydia

  I expected that settling into the Hollow would take me a week or two, given my history and how elaborate my setup needed to be.

  In the end, it only took three days, and most of that was spent setting Bella up in school. Even though she was, in reality, in her twenties, it would raise eyebrows to have someone who looked her age out of school.

  As to the shop and the apartment above it—they took less than a day to get organized. As to how I’d gotten everything set up so quickly, especially after being so badly injured? Well, the resident monsters of Haven Hollow descended on my cozy shop and loft above with the zeal and determination of worker bees. It had only taken them an hour to assemble my furniture and lug it up the stairs, largely thanks to Fifi’s boyfriend, Roy. Angelo hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the man was massive. He had to be close to seven feet tall and had to duck my ceiling fan every time he strolled through the middle of the room. I had to admit, I might have drooled a little when I watched him heft a sofa onto one bulging shoulder like it weighed no more than a sack of flour. I didn’t care what your relationship status was: if you were a straight, red-blooded woman, some Stone Age instinct revved up at the sight of strength like that. It only added to it that I hadn’t gotten any for a while and my libido was in constant motion with the sex demon prowling the house. Even Indie couldn’t fault me for ogling Roy. She, too, was appreciating the view too much to complain.