Page 112 of Petrify

A few of the other people milling around are beginning to notice.

“Good night, Mallary,” Leo says, straightening his jacket. “Happy New Year.”

Chapter 50

The Ghost

The clockon the wall of Leo’s office says it is almost half past three in the morning when I enter. That he hasn’t joined the more salacious activities of his guests surprises me. At his desk, he’s reclined as far as the chair will allow, nursing a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t look up when I enter.

“You heard everything, didn’t you? You always do.”

My steps are silent across the carpet. But my path takes me to the cold fireplace, to the gilded vases decorating the mantel, to the portrait of some old man I can thank for my name who’s now rotting out in the cemetery.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you deserve each other.” He mumbles under his breath, but after years of eavesdropping, I can hear him perfectly. “Not that it’s saying much. You’re both ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you.”

The painting’s eyes follow my every move. If his ghost lingers in this house, we’ve never crossed paths.

“She’s a bit bland, isn’t she? But maybe that’s what you like about her. Makes it easier to have your way with them, doesn’t it? And here she is, demanding things go her way when she’s hardly done anything to deserve it. Just like you.” He laughs.

There’s a bracelet on the floor. Gaudy and polished silver, with a dozen charms. Definitely not Mariane’s.

I hear him stand, the erratic pattern of his shoes on the carpet, and then Leo has me by the neck, a drunken rage twisting his normally composed face. He’s finally looking at me, pupils dilating. “What are you doing here?”

Is this his weak attempt to stop my air flow? His fingers dig into my throat, but either he’s never choked someone before—and why would he ever get his hands dirty?—or he’s being gentle with me.

I shove him off easily.

It’s been a long time since he felt bold enough to put his hands on me.

He steps back, pretending he didn’t almost lose his balance. “You shouldn’t be out.”

“And why not?” I step closer.

“I don’t want to have to explainyouto any of the guests.” True contempt burns in his eyes.

Leo hates me.

The feeling’s been mutual for a long, long time.

He spits his rage, his face pink with it. And the entire time I’m thinking only that he’s lucky I haven’t hurt him sooner.

“Where is your—?” He doesn’t want to say it, his pin-point pupils darting across my face. My bare face.

I haven’t seen my own face in a long time. But I’m sure if someone looked close enough, they would see the resemblance. They could pick up on how similar I look to the dead Arnie of fifteen years ago.

How I look like Leo’s son.

“Am I that hideous?”

He’s shaking his head. “You could ruin everything.”

“The mask is conspicuous. Besides, I can go wherever I want.” I step closer to him, and it’s that moment he remembersI am two inches taller and have strangled at least three people. “Can’t I?”

“Is this because of the tutor? I thought you would have been done with her by now.”

“So you could have her?” I take another step. “Like you went after the last one?”

I’ve hit a nerve, because instead of losing himself to his temper, he composes himself, schools his expression into something unbothered. Mildly disgusted. He recedes a step, reeking of whiskey and his cologne layered over sweat. “If you so much as look at someone wrong tonight, I may find a way to lock her in a room with me for a bit. Give her my feedback on Henri’s performance. See how well she otherwise performs.”