The Unlikely Resident of Room 313

Chapter 24

Chaos churned my insides as I raced out of the Delphi Inn. The pressure in my chest made it hard to think straight, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or scream or vomit. Probably a combination of the three—as gross as that sounded. Bracing my hands on my knees, I shuddered a deep breath, absolutely refusing the panic that rose in my throat. No. Not now.

I knew that talking to my parents would be hard; it always was no matter how much I steadied my voice or proved myself to them in the past. They always found a way of making me feel like I didn't know what was wrong with me. That it was simple misjudgment on my end.

Regret seeped in. I shouldn't have stormed out. I should have stayed and held my ground. A sharp pain cracked through my temples.

Something inside of me had broken loose in there; a floodgate of memories, perhaps, and they returned piece by piece. I'd been tested time and time again. Every psychiatrist said the same thing: I was simply an overly-anxious child with an overactive imagination. Maybe even a little unlucky. But that was it.

What changed? What made me forget?

Another sharp pain exploded in my head, causing me to flinch.

The cool air around me went taut and Roy stepped out of the shadows of nearby trees, determined as he marched toward the Delphi Inn. "Just give me a few minutes with them, Asteria. They won't call you a liar when I'm done."

I grabbed his hand. "No, Roy." His expression was vicious and merciless. This could go very bad. "If I go back in there now, they'll expect me to grovel."

Roy's displeasure felt sour on the tip of my tongue. His dark eyes flickered from my hold on his wrist to the golden lobby just beyond the doors, and he nodded, shifting so that my fingers rested in his cool palm. "Fine," he said, squeezing my fingers. The lines of his body flickered in the dim light like a glitch on a screen. "But just say the word and I'll turn them into believers."

It didn't take a psychic connection to know he was serious. I took solace in his promise and smiled. "I know. Thank you, Roy."

But right then, I needed a distraction from this mess. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I opened my most recent text messages with Eric.

He'd invited me to a date party for today. Handles and Handcuffs. As friends. He made sure to specify this when I told him I would need to think about it. I hoped it wasn't too late to accept...

Dropping my hand, Roy frowned. "I don't think alcohol and handcuffs are a good combination right now."

"Don't read my mind," I scolded him. "Besides, I didn't say yes."

"You want to."

"What did I just say about reading my mind?"

Roy's expression soured. "I can't always control it, sweetheart. I don't know how. But if you want to go, be my guest."

I narrowed my eyes and the sudden edge in his voice. "I don't need your permission, Roy." Another thought dawned on me. One that—if he heard or sensed it—he didn't flinch until I smirked. "Are you jealous, Roy Teller?"

Suddenly, he was in front of me, peering down with those midnight-colored eyes that made me feel like I was falling into eternity. "What I'm feeling is definitely not jealousy, sweetheart." As he spoke, he lowered his head until we were only a breath apart. "He would have to be a threat to make me jealous. He's no threat to me, Asteria."

Why is that? I wanted to ask.

It was hard to think straight. I blamed his ghostly presence. But his ghostly presence wasn't the reason why my body warmed. Closing my eyes, I let the sensation flood in and out of my system. He felt it, too. His soft, sharp inhale of breath made my head spin. I held my breath when his hand brushed my waist. The touch was delicate, sweet, and it wound my nerves so tight, I couldn't resist opening my eyes. When I did, his hand retreated, and we both blinked when my cell phone pinged with a new message.

It was from Eric.

Eric: Are you still up for the party tonight?

I bit my lip. I glanced at Roy, who stepped back, hands in his pockets, and gave an insouciant shrug. A pang of irritation coursed through me from how hot and cold he could be.

It was settled then.

Count me in! See you at 8!

* * *

He watched her from the darkness. It was nights like this that he adored: the moon was nowhere to be seen, the stars were lost behind the clouds, and absolute darkness flowed freely.

He loved watching the wind brush through her dark hair. If he tried hard enough, he could feel his hands moving through the black curls that sat just above her heart. He watched her skin glisten with a vibrant, golden light. She pulsed with energy and life, that siren song of hers luring him closer and closer. He wanted to get close. Without light to hurt him, he didn't need to crawl from shadow to shadow to get what he wanted.

"What are you going to do if they don't let you through the door?" she asks him. That pesky, slimy, insignificant specter tethered to her. Roy was his name. The one that—despite all of his warnings—refused to stay away from her.

The one she bound to herself.

What did he have to make him so worthy?

He would ask her soon enough. Demand her to crush Roy and banish him forever. He hated that he couldn't do it himself.

He watched her approach the house packed with men. There was a human nuisance there, too. At least with that one, he could do something about it. He wanted to watch them burn. He wanted to take their spirits and tear them in half. Doom them. That was what he wanted. And she would help him do that. Deep down, he knew that she would. And then he would do the same to her and he would not be alone in the darkness.

"Who says I'm walking through the front door?" Roy asked her. He stood too close to her.

Ahead of them, a large brick house was alive with music and lights. He watched her stop a few houses short of the DTE house and turn her beautiful eyes to the ghost boy.

"Just don't turn their brains to soup, okay?" she asked. Oh, he loved the sound of that voice.

"Oh, I won't," Roy answered with a devious grin. "The cocaine and alcohol are already doing that for me."

She rolled her eyes. When Roy touched her, he bristled, and that anger turned into rage when she didn't move away. No. Instead, she looked.... grateful.

That couldn't be right.

She hated being touched. That's why she wouldn't let him touch her. No matter how many times he tried to tell her she was his. She would be safe with him. The corners of his vision darkened. He hated that feeling. Hated her for rejecting him. She would learn in time. He just needed to show her. She just needed to know.

She was his.

And there was nothing that would stand in his way. 

* * *