Page 623 of Flirting with Darkness

People knocked over chairs to get out of his way.

Ghost’s eyes remained on the face that had haunted his dreams, that he’d seen in his nightmares ever since he was a boy. He’d seen that face before he knew who it belonged to, dug out from some distant memory or intuition that wouldn’t leave him, that terrorized him even before his mother succumbed to disease.

He hadn’t known who this man was for twelve years.

Even now, he remembered clearly the first time he saw his image in the paper.

His mother had kept a small likeness of him too, Ghost discovered later.

She had written down his name, so Ghost would know him when he came. Ghost found it later, in a book that had been hers, the only thing she’d really left him.

She had printed his name and parentage, maybe in the hopes he would find it.

Lazarus Chronos Aslanov, son of Count Yaroslav D’Yavol Aslanov of St. Peterburg, and the Traveler woman Drina, daughter of Darioush.

It was the only name for herself she had.

The only name for her father she had.

Reading it the first time had made Ghost sad.

Reading it the second time had filled him with rage.

That rage powered him now.

This man had taken everything from him.

His mother. His life.

Had he gotten his way, Aslanov would have taken his soul, too, turning his heart as dark and empty as his own.

Ghost would take it back.

He would take it all back.

He would at least protect Natalie, his wife, his lover… his future self’s wife and lover… possibly his alternate self’s wife and lover. Whoever she was, however he’d met her and convinced her to love him, he could at least protectherfrom this evil fuck.

He would not let Count Aslanov get anywhere near her again.

He stalked down the aisle, the sword brandished in front of him.

He saw the smile on the old man’s face.

He realized too late this was exactly what the dark sorcerer wanted.

He knew that, with the certainty of death, even before the Count spoke.

“Do you have it?” the old man asked. “Do you have the mage clock?”

Ghost didn’t answer.

That reptilian smile widened.

“Ah, youdohave it. I see it now. I feel it, and I see it in your pocket, my dear boy.” The smile grew colder. “And yet you still wave my own sword at me? Are you really so arrogant that you would walk right up to me with the most powerful object in the known universe, your hand outstretched? Do you have so much faith in your powers, my bastard son?”

Ghost came to a stop, the sword up and back.

He felt the shock of electricity as his father’s magick ignited.

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