“That’s exactly what she said.”
Dalila flicked the cigarette into the grave.
It landed directly on top of the ancient book, glowing embers scattering across the cracked leather cover.
Perfect.
Let the Liber Tenebrarum burn.
“Her?” he asked.
“The ghost of Cristina Tate.”
“Interesting.” He hummed thoughtfully.
“She said she made a pact with you. Was she telling the truth?”
“Absolutely.”
He pointed one claw toward the grimoire lying inside the open grave.
“Now tell me something, little witch. Why are you doing this?”
“Maybe I had a change of heart. Maybe I don’t want ghosts and demons stalking me for the rest of my life. Maybe I’m starting to think I’m losing my mind.”
“You’ve never been more sane in your entire life.”
His cold blue eyes gleamed like the fire at the end of his c
