Page 60 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

At first, she thought of telling himoh, never mind, it’s no big dealand moving on. Hazel wasn’t sure Ligat would let that lie, though, and she was too old to dance around an otherwise harmless subject.

“A man came by a few times, ostensibly because I have a good bird-watching forest. We chatted a few times, but…” Hazel shrugged, thinkingnonchalantat herself very hard. For all Ligat’s flaws, he seemed too sensible to be jealous, and to hell with him if hewas, but the sexual part of the story made her sound too pathetic. “He got spooked once we started getting to know each other, and it seems he faked all the contact details he’d given me. He was probably a reporter. Or writing a book—Murder and the Medium.The Serial Killer’s Séance. That kind of thing.” She laughed, going for amusement at life’s little foibles rather than bitterness, and thought she managed a decent act.

“That would be remarkably underhanded,” said Ligat. He got to his feet.

Standing there naked, he made for a pleasant distraction even when she’d need a bottle of water and a couple of hours’ rest before even thinking about more sex. Hazel found it easier to sound casual this time. “Underhanded, yes. Remarkable? Eh, that’s—well, I’d say it’s modern journalism, but I bet it goes back to at least Hearst.” Her conversation with Jess earlier that afternoon seemed about a year old, but remembering it made Hazel ask, “Did you ever see me with him? And if so, was he any kind of otherworldly being?”

Ligat was silent while he pulled on his robe. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you if he was,” he finally said, sounding thoughtful. “My mission didn’t take me here when you had company.”

“Oh well,” said Hazel. “Like I said, probably just a normal human with his own agenda. That’s generally the answer.”

“And the footprints?”

“They look human, or at least they look like a biped wearing shoes made them. You don’t leave prints, and Chapman wouldn’t either, would he?”

Ligat shook his head. “Not on the ground.”

“Right. That leaves me with nothing much, but whoever he was hasn’t come back yet. With any luck, it was a drunk teenager on a dare or somebody looking for directions.”

“And if not?” Ligat asked. He hadn’t put his hood back up, so Hazel could see that he was frowning.

She sighed. “Then…I have a knife, I have a shotgun, I have the guards you’ve seen, and I keep the doors and windows locked. I’m not sure there’s much else I can do. Adifferentserial killer would at least be an unexpected way to go, I guess.”

“One that would hinder my master’s plans, which means I could make an argument for being here more often,” Ligat said quietly, almost making it sound like an offhand statement.

It could also have been an offer, especially since he stopped talking after that and just watched her. Waiting for an answer? Hazel decided to go with that theory. “The more help I get, the better, especially if a mortal axe murdererdoesshow up. I didn’t exactly train for that.”

Ligat smiled ruefully. “Neither did I, but since the theoretical axeman won’t be able to do much to me, I could simply flail about until I landed a lucky punch. And I’ve picked up a few other skills over time.”

“Then I’ll tell Bramble you’re making yourself useful, so they won’t get alarmed when you come and go. Assuming you’re not going to constantly be here, of course.”

“As much as I would enjoy lurking in your garden all day, no. These aren’t my only duties—and I’m thankful my master didn’t summon me any time in the last hour.”

“Does it just yank you back?” Hazel asked, in fascinated horror at that mental image.

“Not the first time. That takes more effort than…it…likes, and I’m amusing when I have to rush.” He might have been quoting the demon. He was definitely sardonic. And he made two pieces click together in Hazel’s brain.

She remembered him in the middle of Bramble’s vines, watching her approach and asking what the next step in her plan was.I do what I must, he’d said, andYou have a long way to go before you match my master in torture.Hazel had never been under the impression that he’d served the demon out of love or loyalty—she doubted any being did, human or not—but she’d always assumed he was getting something out of it.

If the demoncouldgrab him from the mortal world, though, and if he couldn’t say its name—if he’d lurked outside rather than spying in her closet or going through her things because he was following the strictest interpretation of his orders, only that and nothing more—if he was calling himselfLigat, as inligature, as inbound—

Hazel thought of princesses dancing underground, of frogs hitting walls, of horse’s heads and magic roses. She stepped sideways and looked directly into his face, shadowed beneath the hood. That darkness and the red lights inside it had been intimidating not long ago. Now she just saw Ligat in dim light.

“Are you under a magical compulsion?” she asked. “Is that what keeps you serving the demon?”

Ligat went completely still. Even his eyes barely moved, and Hazel had started to worry that the demon had installed some kind of paralysis fail-safe before he tilted his head to the side, putting on an indulgent smile. “What makes you think I’ll give you an honest answer?”

“Just a gamble,” she said, deciding that she’d pushed boundaries just as far as was wise. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make some instant soup and read about human sacrifice.”

“I’d never want to intrude on such a beautiful moment. Besides—” Ligat grimaced, ruining the smooth sarcasm. “Chapman may have other mischief in mind, which means I may need to persuade him of just how bad any such ideas would be, and that’s best done quickly. I’ll return. You may not see me.”

He raised a hand in farewell this time, rather than bowing, andvanished before Hazel could speak. It was probably just as well, she told herself. The next words out of her mouth would have beenjust knock on the door, no point in lurking when I know you’re out there—a much bigger gamble than asking about his bonds to the demon.

Ligat was still working for the thing, after all, even if she thought he’d told her the truth in the best way he could.

Chapter 32

Perthrux could let Ligat know it wished for his attendance at any time, no matter where he or it were, but Ligat wasn’t nearly so lucky. Simply approaching Perthrux’s lair without permission was asking for any number of unpleasant consequences. He could contact the demon from afar, but he did so as little as possible, and not only because he disliked its attention.