Possess

whatever she wanted.
    Don’t trust the priest . The words came back to her like a punch in the chest. She didn’t know who “the priest” was yet, but whoever he was, he was working for the Emim, working to raise Amaymon from the legions of Hell. Could it be Father Santos? Bridget laughed as she pictured the clumsy, stuttering Father Santos in league with the Emim.
    Still, there was something about Father Santos she didn’t like and didn’t trust. The freak-out over her bracelet, for starters. At the doll shop, he “forgot” to finish securing the room by laying salt across the front door. Could it have been on purpose? And he was the one who suggested she directly engage the demons, inciting the doll riot. Was it intentional? Was he trying to get her killed?
    Bridget trudged back to her room. No, she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk trusting anyone at this point. If she wanted to get a look in Father Santos’s office, she’d have to do it on her own.
    Her cell phone ring snapped Bridget back to reality. “Douchebag Quinn” was the incoming caller.
    “Hello?”
    “Is everything okay?” Matt asked.
    “Matt.” Bridget could barely keep her voice even. “I found it.”
    “You found it?”
    “Yeah.” She decided to leave out the part about the dead phantom cat. “There was a loose floorboard in the corner of my dad’s study.”
    “Holy crap!”
    “I know.”
    Matt dropped his voice. “What does it say?”
    “It’s kind of complicated. What time do you get out of practice?”
    “You’re home?”
    “Yeah, I can hang out until—”
    “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
    “Wait, Matt. You don’t have to . . . Hello?” Nothing. Had he really just hung up on her?
    Somehow, she wasn’t really mad.
    Bridget pulled a brush through her hair and applied some lip gloss. For the first time in her life, she actually cared what she looked like. It was a new experience to say the least.
    The doorbell rang exactly thirteen minutes later, and Bridget tried to look casual as she opened the door.
    “Hey,” she said.
    “Hey.” Matt was breathless. Had he run all the way from Riordan? “Are you okay?”
    Bridget smiled. Matt’s hyperprotectiveness was growing on her. “Yeah.”
    Without thinking, she reached her hand out to him. The instant her fingers touched his, that God-awful tingling sensation raced up her hands through her body. She yanked her hand away.
    “Bridge?” Matt looked stricken. She couldn’t bear to see his pain and confusion, knowing she was the cause. Besides, she wanted to touch him so badly, to feel him protecting her from the things neither of them understood, to feel his lips pressed against hers, his arms pulling her to his body, to feel that delicious heat, that intoxicating energy flowing through her again.
    She didn’t care what it meant.
    Bridget took a step toward him, holding the gaze of those hazel eyes. It must have been the invitation Matt was hoping for. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his other arm around her waist. His kiss was gentle, but Bridget didn’t want gentle. She wanted to feel those tiny explosions of pleasure racing up and down her body.
    She kissed him hard, her tongue finding his as she pressed her body into him. The energy tore through her. It pulsed up her arms, down her legs, across her chest. She slipped a hand under Matt’s shirt and ran her fingers over the taut muscles of his stomach. She heard him moan softly as her hand trailed down the front of his body. He belonged to her. Matt, this power, this feeling. They all belonged to her.
    “Wait,” Bridget said, breaking away. This wasn’t why he was here.
    “Wait?” he gasped.
    Bridget put a hand on Matt’s chest. His heart was racing, racing for her.
    Focus! “Right, sorry.”
    Matt cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”
    “Look, I need to do something, something that could get me in a lot of trouble.”
    “Why am I not surprised?”
    Bridget rolled her eyes. “I mean it. And I don’t want you to help me just because . . . well, because . . .” Her voice faltered.
    Matt laced his fingers through hers. “Because of the way I feel about you?”
    “Yeah.”
    Matt took a step closer to her. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
    Bridget held her hands up in front of her. “I’m talking about breaking and entering.”
    “Again, why am I not surprised?”
    “Damn,” Bridget said, pursing her lips. “You and your dad must really think I’m a total