The Mark (Interracial Paranormal Romance) (Toil and Trouble) Read Online Free Page B

steered me towards her office. “That’s kind of the definition of a necromancer.”
     
    I rolled my eyes as I slid into the seat in front of her desk. Her office was my favorite room in the building. While everything else exploded with color, her office was painted black; the only contrast the metal desk and the plush red chaise I was snuggled on.
     
    “So what’s up?” she said as she leaned back in her seat. “Work woes?”
     
    “No,” I answered. “Work is fine. Had a job last night.”
     
    “I heard,” she said with a small smile.
     
    “Oh?”
     
    “Fairy,” she said in a “Duh” manner. “We feed on emotions, remember?” She closed her eyes, licking her lips. “And Mr. Brooks’ run-in with his wife...let’s just say I’m stuffed.”
     
    “Mmm,” I mused absentmindedly. Fairies are drawn to strong emotions like moths to a flame. I'm sure they got a big ole cup of hate last night. But that wasn't what was bothering me.
     
    “So it’s not letting the wife torture her poor husband that has you all emo,” she said, scratching her chin.
     
    “I didn’t let her do anything!” I laughed, my cheeks burning red. I'm not gonna lie though-seeing his wife march in like G.I. Jane in designer ware, clutching a can of salt, was pretty darn amusing.
     
    “Riiight.” Sia opened her drawer, pulling out a Jolly Rancher lollipop. She offered me one, but I declined. “I suck at this twenty questions shit, so feel free to just clue me in.”
     
    I thought back and remembered how strong the ghost was. The way he manipulated sound, moved the objects…and I had a feeling that he wasn’t even that upset. “I may have unintentionally sicced an angry ghost on someone,” I said finally.
     
    “Oh yeah?”
     
    I nodded. “Brooks’ lawyer.”
     
    She shrugged nonchalantly. “Aren’t lawyers pretty high on the Highway to Hell list anyway?”
     
    I chuckled as I pulled myself up. “Yeah, lawyers suck. But that ghost…” My voice trailed off forebodingly. “I wouldn’t wish a haunting with him at the helm on anyone.”
     
    “He did seem particularly…enthused,” she said, holding the lollipop in midair. “But it’s not really your problem, is it?”
     
    I eyed her skeptically. “It’s not?”
     
    “Ghosts haunt,” she said matter-of-factly. “Vampires suck blood, fairies-“
     
    “Steal first borns?” I quipped.
     
    “Ha, ha,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “But seriously, it’s not your place.” Her carefree voice had an audible edge to it. “Just leave it alone.”
     
    I shifted uncomfortably, not oblivious to the sudden change in the atmosphere. The air was tight with tension, like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point, mere seconds from snapping.
     
    Sia’s crystal eyes softened after a moment, her voice like a whistle on the breeze. “You’ve been necromancing with NACA for how long?”
     
    “A year and a half.”
     
    “So you’re a newbie,” she said, with slight condescension. “I’ve dealt with this whole supernatural thing for slightly longer than you. A millenia, give or take."
     
    “I didn’t see my first ghost yesterday, you know,” I said acidly.
     
    I saw my first ghost when I was thirteen. I was at some god awful bible camp, my days spent journaling how horrible of a person I was and singing hymns about bloody Jesus. The only redeeming factor was Au Sable River. The rock shelves sliced through the water like forgotten cities waiting to be discovered. The dark froth churned and guzzled my ankles and promised to take me far, far away from the hours spent in prayer and incessant singing.
     
    One night, when I was so homesick I couldn’t stand it, I ducked out of the cabin and ran to the river with open arms. I sunk my feet in the water and squeezed my eyes shut, sending out a beacon to the universe to save me. When I opened my eyes I saw her--Molly Jenkins. She was around my age, but I remembered thinking there was something