Fake Death, Real Exorcist, Don Never Forgot Chapter 03

At midnight, the house was pitch-black.

Vera had me eat a bite of unleavened bread and take a sip of wine.

Then she poured a circle of red brick dust around me and lit several candles along the edge.

She held a burning candle in her own hand too, murmuring words I couldn’t understand.

I closed my eyes.

At first, there was only silence.

Then a sharp ringing split through my ears.

It sounded like someone striking a bell far away, and like wind tearing across a thousand stretched wires.

Then, somehow, I saw the garden I used to love.

A grave stood in the middle of it, horribly out of place, with my name carved into the stone.

Donovano stood across from it, a tear sliding silently down his face. I had never seen him look so broken.

Then a pair of hands settled on his shoulders.

A dazzling woman appeared behind him, wearing a smug smile.

My eyes flew open.

Pain drilled through my skull like a nail being hammered in. I doubled over and knocked one of the candles to the floor.

Vera cried out as a gust of wind tore through the room, snuffing out every flame.

The house plunged into total darkness.

Her breathing turned harsh and uneven. My own heart hammered against my ribs.

“Sorry,” Vera said, guilt heavy in her voice. “I failed. The obsession on the other side is too strong.”

“Thank you, Vera,” I said weakly. “For everything you tried to do.”

The words had barely left my mouth when someone knocked on the front door.

Vera flinched.

“No one should be here,” she whispered.

I forced myself to stay calm and scanned the room. In the corner, I spotted a symbol often used by mafia crews.

“This place belongs to someone connected to the mob,” I told Vera. “Stay calm. We talk our way out.”

Vera thought for a second, then splashed wine onto her face.

I took a hard swallow from the bottle too, making myself look drunk. Then I slowly moved toward the door.

“Mom! Mom!”

Cassian’s voice rang out from outside.

Then a man’s voice followed, sharp with irritation.

“What kind of asshole leaves a kid alone in a car?”

My heart dropped. I yanked the door open and saw a man standing beside my car, glancing around impatiently.

Cassian was sitting obediently inside.

I hurried over.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The man turned.

The face almost made me scream.

Caspian Grey.

Visconti’s consigliere.

“You the kid’s mother?” he asked coldly.

I nodded.

He muttered.

“What’s your name?”

“Miller.”

“How old is the boy?” Grey pressed.

Vera came up behind me and held my arm.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she said. “My friend had too much to drink. I was about to drive her home.”

“A drunk was going to get behind the wheel?” Grey said.

“I’m driving,” Vera replied. “You planning to police that too? Got an FBI badge on you?”

“I don’t.”

Grey sat against the hood of my car, his eyes fixed on Cassian.

“I just think this kid looks familiar.”