Andre’s jaw worked, and he reluctantly nodded his head.
I looked out the window at the stars, which were so much brighter with my night vision. It was a rare night when the fog surrounding the Isle of Man was thin enough to see them. “Why were the crime scenes . . . haunted?” I asked. My heartbeat had finally slowed back down to normal.
“I don’t know if they were haunted, or if that was just a side effect of being close to Samhain,” he said.
If that was a side effect of Samhain, then the supernatural community had to rethink their most widely celebrated holiday. That was just plain frightening.
“Gabrielle, that voice in the graveyard . . .” Andre started.
“Can’t we just pretend that we didn’t hear it?” I asked. Okay, it was more of a plea.
“You know,” Andre said conversationally, “you have a serious avoidance problem.”
“I’m not ready to deal with that statement,” I joked. Andre didn’t laugh. Sourpuss.
“You know what the voice was talking about, don’t you?” Andre stated it as though it were fact.
“I don’t—”
Andre cut me off. “Before you lie to me, you should know that I can tell the difference between that and the truth.”
I gave him my best squinty eyes. “I wasn’t going to lie to you. I have no idea what that voice was talking about. But that’s the third time something has called me the devil’s consort.” I spit out the word as though it tasted bitter.
“What do you mean something?” Andre ran a hand through his hair.
“A possessed medium, the incubus that visited me last night, and whatever was in the graveyard all called me that.”
Andre slammed on the brakes, and air whooshed out of my lungs as I was thrown against the seatbelt.
Andre cursed while I gasped for air.
“An incubus visited you again last night?” he asked.
I nodded.
Andre swore again. “That’s not good, Gabrielle.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
It wasn’t a literal statement, but Andre answered it anyway. “Those three things that spoke to you—none of them are of this world. That means that in places that know more about heaven and hell than we do, you have a reputation, Gabrielle.” Andre paused. “To them you are known as the devil’s consort.”
Chapter 8
We pulled up to Bishopcourt. I hadn’t even questioned our destination. I was still shaken up by what Andre had said. So shaken that I didn’t have time to get out of the car before Andre tried his hand at chivalry again and opened my door.
I stared at him. What does it mean that spirits know who I am?
Seeing that I hadn’t yet unbuckled my seatbelt, he leaned over and did so. Then he scooped me up in his arms. Worse, I just let him. I wasn’t feeling very brave at the moment, and it was kind of nice to let someone else take care of me.
What does it mean to be the devil’s consort?
“You’re alright,” he whispered into my hair.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. Right about now, Andre no longer felt like the monster I needed to stay away from. He felt like the only safe place in the world.
He led me back to his room and placed me on the edge of his bed so that I sat upright. I rested my head between my legs. “This is really bad, isn’t it?”
He didn’t say anything, and I remembered my thoughts from earlier in the evening, when I realized Leanne withheld a great many premonitions from me. This might be the something that was more terrifying than death.
The bed slumped as Andre sat down next to me. He put a hand on my upper back. “Gabrielle, look at me.”
I straightened up to meet his eyes. Just like earlier in the week, his eyes seemed to hold his humanity. “When it comes to dealings with the devil, remember that you always have agency,” he said, emphasizing the statement by shaking me gently.
“It’s one thing to be called the devil’s consort and another to actually be it,” he continued. “The difference lies in the decisions you make. If you want to hand over your soul and go down without a fight, that’s a choice—it’s not made for you. Not even becoming a vampire takes that decision away from you.”
His words gave me hope. It didn’t matter that I was in over my head, even in terms of the supernatural community. In the end, it came down to something that I could understand—consent.
I lifted a hand and ran it along Andre’s outstretched arm. His hand slipped from my back, and it curled around my own. That wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
I turned my body towards him and leaned in, and he met me halfway.
The kiss was desperate. I swung my leg over his so that I straddled him, and I ran my hands through his hair, pressing myself even closer to him.
His hands moved to my back, and he held me tightly. Almost without thinking, the siren welled up in me. For the first time, I welcomed it. Right now it didn’t feel like a different entity so much as an expression of my feelings. My skin began to glow.