Page 17 of These Unhallowed Halls (Equinox Seasons Duet #2)

“I know it’s why my dad moved here from Salem.

He’s a doctor who couldn’t save his wife.

Eventually, he couldn’t practice at the same hospital anymore.

Then, it was moving to a new district. It wasn’t until we got here a few years ago that he finally seemed better.

” Lizzie waves the scotch back over to her, taking a long pull before floating it back to me.

“It doesn’t feel different to me. I could sense Mom right up until she moved on.

She’s not here, and she wasn’t in Salem either. Don’t know about your dad, though.”

She turned to Temperance, offering a mournful shrug. The two of them stared for a moment, gripping each other’s hands and holding tight. I saw so much of myself in both of them, like they were halves of who I had been all those years ago.

Temperance was that book-smart, laser-focused part of me, obsessed with school and academia, with learning everything there was to know about alchemy.

And Lizzie was the furious part of myself, the part angry with the entire world for letting me down.

She was rash and impulsive because standing still felt like an invitation to Death.

Moving was the only way to keep from breaking apart.

“Well, as you both can see, that’s why this is so important. It’s picking up steam faster than we can manage. We can’t just keep watching people die.”

“Okay, so what about the carnival?” Temperance sat forward on the edge of the couch, furrowing her brow as she swallowed. “We all know something isn’t right there, yeah?”

Lizzie snorted, and I let out the breath that had refused to leave me during our little exchange. Sliding the book I’d been studying to the front of my desk, I rested my chin in my hand, my elbow leaning against the leather blotter that protected the wood surface.

“Indeed. I looked at this when I got in this morning. It talks about the level of magic required to create a convincing illusion of someone being harmed or changed. From everything it says, I don’t think that’s what happened last night.”

“Wait, so that chick really… died ?” Lizzie’s brows were at her hairline, and Temperance scooted closer to her, threading her arm around her stepsister’s.

“When I looked closed at the woman who appeared at the center of the ring. She was…slightly taller than the other one. I think the woman impaled by the blades was, in fact, another victim.”

“The carnival is doing this? But how the hell would it get away with that? It travels all around. People are going to put two and two together and realize—”

“There’s magic involved,” I cut in. “I highly doubt they let their methods be discoverable at all. I lucked out last night, just catching the difference, and I’ve been practicing magic for twenty-some years.”

Lizzie stood up, walking in front of my desk and planting her hands down on the surface so that she was right up in my face.

“Then we need to figure this shit out. What do we know about them?”

Gesturing toward my laptop on the corner of the desk, I cocked my head. “By all means, Ms. Chamberlain. If you can find something about them, please do.”

She rolled her eyes at me, making my pulse flicker for a moment as Temperance joined us at the desk, laying her hand down on the pile of books I’d stacked up earlier.

“Fine. I’ll Google. You both do the bookworm thing and see if you can find something in all these books of yours that looks like that symbol on the dead woman or this one.”

Quickly, Lizzie scrawled an image on a spare pad of paper I had on my desk, stealing a pen from the mahogany desk organizer I had next to the books.

“My mom’s necklace? The church thingy?” Temperance looked at Lizzie as if she’d lost her mind.

“Hey, I always thought it was more like a cult, and the vibes last night were all ‘holy glory’ and shit. They could totally be related.”

“Holy glory?” I smirked, furrowing my brow as Lizzie took my computer and sat down with it on the edge of my desk.

“Yeah, like all those people who get off on praying and believe they’re getting ‘lifted up’ by their god.”

“That just sounds like religion, Lizzie.”

“Which is all fucked sometimes, Temps.”

Scoffing, I held up a hand. “Alright, back to your corners. Let’s just see what we can find.”

I t was a handful of hours later that we all sat around my coffee table with a plethora of information and a bad fucking feeling about all this.

The carnival did have a record of being around during some missing person reports, but there was no way to prove anything.

From what Lizzie found, they were known for their macabre performances, and the symbol of that “church” was spotted on several of the performers in the photographs she’d managed to dig up.

The symbol itself—along with the one on the victim we’d seen—was tied to some ancient workings that were utterly alien to me.

Temperance and I had found some obscure references to them in books that I’d had to call up from the depths of the archives and delivered to my office, which we passed off like an extra-credit assignment.

“This is odd. Have you looked at this?” Temperance lifted up onto her knees from sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, pushing a book in my direction.

“This isn’t standard witchcraft stuff. The language is almost…

religious. But there’s a note in the margins, something handwritten by someone ages ago. Does that say what I think it says?”

I pulled the book to me, scanning over the faded writing. “His Holy Goodness, Barer of Light, nothing but…lies? I think that’s what it says. Growing malevolence seeking to…Fucking hell, ‘feast on the righteous.’”

Using air quotes around the last few words, just like the writing did, I glanced between Lizzie and Temperance before continuing.

“Golden light, powers exchanged, but not to god to It.” Tilting my head as I set the text down, I raised my brows, chewing on my tongue for a moment.

“Well, it looks like someone figured something out. Af if this is some sort of entity acting like a god, looking for worshippers, it’s not unprecedented. It also tracks with the—”

“Cult vibes!” Lizzie said, her excitement laced with vindication. “I fucking told you!”

Unable to keep myself from laughing, I pulled my glasses off, setting them down on the table that was strewn with books and printouts that Lizzie had found.

The sun was setting outside my stained glass windows, and the low lighting painted the room in soft hues of yellow and orange.

I only had the lamp by the couch on, and it hit me how alone the three of us were in my office.

The entire campus was likely gone by now; surely, no faculty to come knocking.

We’d also dispensed with the required uniform attire at this point.

My jacket hung on the back of my desk chair, my sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and I’d loosened my tie when it was getting too fucking hard to concentrate.

Both Lizzie and Temperance had ditched their school jackets, left haphazardly on my couch, and while Temperance’s skirt was still the usual length, Lizzie had cut hers to hit at mid-thigh.

With her perched on the edge of the chair, her legs uncrossed, it was a test of fortitude not to glance down and follow the tantalizing warmth of her deep tan skin up to the shadowy juncture between her legs.

We’d also gone through like a third of that bottle of scotch.

What the fuck were you thinking, Caleb?

“Who fucking called it? I did.” Lizzie stood up from the couch abruptly, strutting over to Temperance and leaning down into her face, so close I thought she might finally go for what they both clearly wanted—what I desperately wanted to see. “Who’s amazing?”

No, you can’t fucking go there.

Temperance rolled her eyes, the warm pink of a blushing coloring her cheeks. “You’re amazing, Lizzie. I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

“No, but damn , do I love to hear it.” She kissed the tip of Temperance’s nose, smirking as she sashayed around us, proudly walking like she was some kind of peacock.

Lizzie’s hips swished, and I was drawn to looking at her like my fucking life—or at least that of my cock—depended on it. My flesh was laced with lava, and I pulled my tight further away from my neck, feeling Temperance watching Lizzie as well, like a laser focused close to my skin.

Before I could think better of it, I stood up from my position on the couch, stepping in front of Lizzie to block her path. I couldn’t tell which was strong in my blood fury or arousal.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

It was an animal growl, and Lizzie stopped short before the shock on her face gave way to amusement.

Fucking amusement.

“Why’s it matter? Something stuck up that cute ass of yours? Because we just cracked a fucking murder mystery, and you should be in a way better mood.”

“Lizzie!” Temperance called from something beyond the bubble that existed between her stepsister and me. “Seriously? Are you trying to get us expelled?”

Suddenly, Temperance was there, and if the dim, burnt yellow glow of the lamp, the hair that fluttered around her face was as striking as a Degas.

The backdrop of deep brown shelves and decades-old wallpaper sat behind the two of them, framing these exquisite women like a Renaissance painting.

They were too damn beautiful. I didn’t know what to fucking do with myself, and I needed out of this room.

Out of this tight space, where I wasn’t sure what I was about to do.

I rushed to the door, about to fling it open, when Lizzie interposed herself between me and the exit. She looked up at me, so much tinier than I was, and I could see the heavy up and down of her breath, sense the intensity burning through the air between us.

“No. I…” She flicked her eyes down, this miniature moment of insecurity. “I…I don’t want you to go. Either of you.”

Casting a brief look over my shoulder, Lizzie smiled ever so slightly. “You’re damn good at keeping your cool, Professor. But not now. Not after the scotch has loosened you up a bit, and now there’s no denying the waves coming off you. So, put your money where your mouth is.”

Clenching my jaw hard enough to make the joint crack, I focused on the floor. “This isn’t right, Elizabeth. I’m your professor. Temperance is your—”

“I’m well fucking aware of the labels, teach . The thing is,” Lizzie blinked, looking up at me from under her lashes as she leaned back against the door, making the fabric of her blouse stretch across her breasts, “I don’t fucking care.”

Gods help me, every logical thought evaporated in that moment, leaving only the raw attraction I felt toward these admittedly impressive women.

And then my lips crashed down on Lizzie’s.