A Job From Hell (Ancient Legends #1)

hands on.
    “Lucky you.” Clare sighed. “That makes one
of us.”
    “I thought you and Aidan—” I trailed
off, embarrassed.
    “What?” Clare laughed, eyes glinting with
something I couldn’t place. “Aidan’s like family to me.”
    “You’re not dating?” I felt stupid for asking
and even more so for feeling relieved. With beautiful Clare no longer my competition,
a sudden weight lifted off my chest. Not that I stood a chance with Aidan. Besides,
I didn’t want to be with anyone because I still loved Cameron.
    “I don’t think Aidan’s ever thought of me
as dating material. Not even after Rebecca—” she hesitated “—left.
Kieran and I, ah, never mind. You’re probably bored already.”
    “Who’s Rebecca?”
    Clare jumped to her feet, knocking over her
wine. She caught the glass in mid-air before the red liquid could spill onto
the carpet. “There’s something I want to show you upstairs,” she said. I
hesitated when she pulled me to my feet. “Come on. It’ll be our little secret.
Aidan will never know.”
    She wanted me to break the off-limits rule?
“I don’t want to lose my job,” I whispered.
    Clare winked. “You won’t, I promise.”
    Oh, what the heck. Since my arrival, I’d
been dying to know what Aidan kept hidden up there. She assured me Aidan would
never know, and I trusted her. Was I naïve? Maybe. But I needed a friend.
    We sneaked to the second floor and walked
past several rooms, then stopped in front of one. Clare pushed a massive
mahogany door, and entered first.
    I hesitated in the doorway. Questions about
Rebecca burned on my tongue even though I didn’t dare ask them. Why get
involved in something that didn’t concern me?
    “This used to be Rebecca’s room.” Clare
flicked on a switch and motioned me to follow.
    The large room smelled of dust as though no
one had aired in months. To the far left was a huge, carved four-poster. A
large walk-in closet covered the entire wall to the right.
    Clare walked over and yanked the door open.
Her fingertips touched silky gowns and velvet dresses in countless colors. “I
thought you might like to see these. Thank God, you’re here. I have no one else
around to talk about girl stuff. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
    I nodded, my gaze moving over the tailored
clothes when I noticed an expensive silk evening gown in burgundy red. A chill
crept over me. “Are these Rebecca’s clothes? May I?”
    “Sure.” Clare stepped to the side, watching
me.
    I leaned forward to inspect the gown closer.
It was about my size but made for someone taller. There was nothing special
about it, and yet it called to me. I felt compelled to touch it, to try it on,
to feel the exquisite softness of the cool silk on my bare skin. I lifted my
fingers, then pulled back.
    “Why don’t you touch it?” Clare whispered.
    “No.” I swallowed hard and turned away.
Aidan still kept Rebecca’s clothes. A memory was even worse than an actual
girlfriend. Their love must’ve been the real deal since he still harbored the
hope she’d come back one day.
    Clare nudged me softly. “I felt the same
way when I first saw it. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if you try it on.”
    I peered at the dress again. Dizziness
washed over me. Something pulled me forward, like an invisible hand, urging me
to give it a go. With shaking fingers, I touched the gown. The sudden jolt of
electricity took me by surprise, and I stumbled backwards, but my hand remained
clenched around the material. My eyelids fluttered. I whimpered as my vision
blurred. I felt Clare’s cold breath on my neck, whispering in my ear, “Amber,
are you okay?”
    A pang of pain surged through my body. I
opened my eyes wide. Clare was gone. Something icy, soft as the flutter of a butterfly,
caressed my neck. I turned to scan my surroundings, noticing a girl dressed in
the same red gown sleeping on the bed, her pale body sprawled across crimson sheets,
her long, red hair spread around her like a halo. She seemed so serene, too
quiet. Holding my breath, I walked closer, careful not to wake her, when my
gaze fell on the gaping wound on the girl’s neck. Half of it looked ripped out,
but the gash bore no signs of blood.
    My breath caught in my throat. I took a
step back, whimpering. “She’s dead.” My voice came low, scared. I let go of the
dress. The girl disappeared; the artificial light of bulbs replaced the semi-darkness.
    “Yes, she is.” Clare touched my shoulder,
making