Page 6 of The Warlock's Kiss

She carefully pulled her hand free of the shirt’s protection and reached through the broken window, bending her arm to the side and feeling for the lock.

The deadbolt’s thumb-latch required enough force to make her fingers ache, but it clicked open. Danny and Adalynn met each other’s gazes for a moment.

Stepping back, Adalynn removed the shirt from her arm, shook out a few of the tiny bits of glass clinging to it, and wadded the garment up to shove it back into her pack. She zipped the bag closed, swung it back onto her shoulders, and reached into her pocket to draw her pocketknife. She pulled up its main blade.

“If anyone’s home, they know we’re here now,” she whispered.

Danny’s suddenly grave expression would’ve been comical before the Sundering. Kids his age usually didn’t take things very seriously outside of whatever form of entertainment they preferred, and Danny had always been laidback and fun-loving.

He reached down and drew that massive bowie knife.

Adalynn stared at Danny’s knife—it seemed just a step or two down from a sword. She hated the thought that he’d ever be put in a situation to have to use it, but if it could protect him…

“If anyone comes at you, Danny, you use that. You understand?”

Danny swallowed and nodded.

She turned toward the door and clenched her teeth against another bout of dizziness before grasping the handle. She didn’t know what awaited beyond, and that scared the hell out of her, but they needed this place—Dannyneeded this place.

Depressing the latch, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

For a few moments, a wave of disorientation swept over Adalynn, but she couldn’t attribute it to her illness. Crossing that threshold had been like traveling back in time—that was the only way to explain the stark contrast between the exterior and interior of this home.

They were standing in a foyer that would’ve been the epitome of wealth and décor a century before—the floor was dark, polished wood, arranged in a pattern of circles-inside-squares, and the paneled wainscoting on the walls was made of even darker wood. The high ceiling was pure white with intricate, symmetrical patterns across it, culminating in a huge medallion at the center from which hung a crystal chandelier. A spiral staircase led up to the second floor, which had a railed loft overlooking the foyer. There was a large doorway on either side before the stairs and another set after, and straight ahead—beneath the loft—an arched, open entry led to a large sitting room. Despite the dim light, the elegant carved wood and patterned upholstery of the furniture was apparent.

And all of it was immaculate.

“Is this for real?” Danny asked.

It was amazing, Adalynn couldn’t deny that—it was nothing like the dusty rooms she swore she’d seen when she looked in from outside. But it convinced her even more that someone was living here. There was no way this place could be in this pristine condition without someone taking care of it.

For a place this size? It probably takes ateamof people to keep it looking like this.

Movement at the upper edge of Adalynn’s vision called her gaze up to the loft, but there was nothing to be seen save the same gloom and shadows clinging to everything else in the place.

Dread coalesced deep in her stomach.

They needed to leave. It would be better to spend the night in the woods and avoid any potential trouble here. She didn’t want to be in a situation in which they’d be forced to use their knives—there was too high a chance of one of them winding up hurt or dead.

Something unexpected came on the heels of those thoughts. The longer she stared at the darkness above them, the clearer that something grew—it wasmusic, music unlike any she’d ever heard.

I’m not hearing it, though. I’m…feelingit.

Adalynn furrowed her brow, focusing on the muted, ethereal song. She couldn’t make out the individual notes, couldn’t quite make out the melody, but there was something comforting about it. Something soothing. Somethingright.

She shook her head sharply, producing another jolt of agony. The song was in her head, and this was not the time or place to focus on it. The part of her life during which she’d composed her own music was long gone now, gone forever; all that mattered was getting out of this place before something bad happened.

As she turned toward her brother, she whispered, “Danny, we should—”

But Danny was already walking deeper into the house.

Damnit.

“Danny!”

Chapter Two

With a growl, Merrick slammed the book closed, flattened his palms on his desk, and shoved himself to his feet.

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