Chapter Eight

 

The weather changed with Samael’s mood as if the air around him was manipulated with his temperament. The clouds overhead darkened to black now, and the only form of light came from the lightning streaking across the sky.

Michael had taken his prize. “Clarity Shaw is mine!” He shook his hand at the sky. The moment she sat in his chair, Samael felt the difference. Her blood hummed with power and he wanted it, needed it to set him free.

He looked over at Hester who huddled with fear at the gates. To her credit, she hadn’t scampered away like a frightened rabbit as he thought she would do. But then she did have her reasons. She wanted her niece healed. Hester didn’t realize it was too late for her niece. He took what he needed from the little chit and cast her aside. He couldn’t fix her, but Hester didn’t have to know his little secret. He needed minions on the outside to do his bidding.

He looked down at his fading hand. He couldn’t keep a solid form for long and it didn’t help that he’d used some of his energy in anger. He had only hours to complete the ritual. If he missed the window, he’d have to wait another year and hope for another descendent of Sophie Peabody’s to waltz into the graveyard. The chance of that happening was next to nothing.

“Open the gate, Hester. I need your help.”

He needed the energy from humans to maintain a corporeal state. Unfortunately, the process leaves the human’s brains fried.

Mr. Donner appeared beside Hester with his intent to interfere with Samael’s plans. “Don’t do it, woman. I beg of you.”

Hester’s gaze darted to Mr. Donner. “I have to.” She chewed on her lower lip, which worried Samael. Mr. Donner might be able to persuade her to his side. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Samael floated closer to the fence, wishing he had the power to step over the barrier that kept him locked within the graveyard’s limited perimeter. “If you don’t do as I say, your niece will remain in the hospital.”

“He lies to you,” Mr. Donner told her.

“What if he isn’t?” Hester’s hand fiddled with the key, slipping it into the keyhole. With her shoulder, she nudged the gate open.

Mr. Donner reached for her, but his fingers slid through her body. He had no substance and was beginning to fade fast. Good.

“Don’t do it,” Mr. Donner pleaded. “You’ll end up like your niece. He saps energy from humans. You can’t get it back.”

Damn the meddling ghost. All Samael needed was for Hester to take one little step over the line and he would have her.

She edged closer, her toes almost over the edge. The tension rose to where he could barely contain himself.

“Lock the gate, Hester. Step away before it’s too late.

It was already too late. She leaned her weight on one leg and in doing so her toes had slipped over the edge and into his world. “Gotcha,” he murmured under his breath before he used the last of his powers and snaked a vine around her ankle, pulling her toward him.

He ignored her screams of protest and her hands clutching at the earth, trying to latch onto something that would keep her from his grasp, but he proved too strong. She lay at his feet, a whimpering bag of bones. The woman didn’t weigh much. She was fragile with age and worry, but her essence would suffice.

“Leave her alone. She does not consent,” Mr. Donner appeared in front of him.

His pleas did not move him. He needed energy and Hester would provide it. He leaned down and she tried to scramble away. Fear etched her features and caused her heart to pump faster. Adrenaline would only amp what he took. His palms clasped her head, stilling her movements as he pressed against her temples and absorbed her essence. Her terror filled eyes glazed over and her mouth hung open, saliva sliding down the side of her mouth. When he was finished draining her, he tossed her body like a discarded ragdoll. He inhaled deeply, taking in the thick ozone layer hanging in the air. He withdrew his sword and headed for the caretaker’s home. Michael would be there and so would Clarity Shaw.