Sam cussed under his breath.

Cait blew on her tea, then drank it as quickly as she could. Setting aside her cup, she reached across the table.

The moment his hand enclosed hers, she felt a spark of power, a warm tingle that traveled up her arm and spread like a brushfire.

“Close your eyes.”

Just as she had all those years ago when she’d practiced her magic with him in this very room, she obeyed instantly. Another flash of warmth enveloped her, this one more like a soothing wave, traveling through her arm, prickling her skin, sinking deep within her feminine soul.

“Not fair,” she muttered, not wanting to be more forceful about his psychic flirting because Sam was sitting right beside her.

“Imagine yourself inside that dreary hotel,” he said, a hint of amusement in his melodic voice.

Sam cursed again. “How does he know about the hotel?”

Cait shook her head to quiet him while filling her mind with the images: the shabby foyer, the yellowed walls and puke-colored carpets, the room with a gaping hole in the wall.

“Now…” Morin said, his voice softening, deepening, drawing her in.

“Elementals, hear me, your humbled servant.

Bless this wanderer, this stubborn novice—”

Cait peeked open one eye to give Morin a stealthy glare.

He winked and raised a forefinger, and then indicated downward for her to close her eye again. Which she did, but not without letting him see she didn’t approve of his humor.

“I invoke your many blessings

To hold quiet dark spirits rising.

Let root and water insulate and shield,

While powers mingle and knowing builds.

I invoke your many blessings.

To hold quiet dark spirits rising.

So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” she repeated, then slowly opened her eyes.

His features appeared a little haggard, as if somehow he’d aged. Then she blinked, only to find the old Morin, eyes glinting with devilish humor peering back.

“That should do it, darling.” His hand withdrew. The warmth receded like an ebbing tide.

She swallowed and met his dark, intense gaze and felt a weakening of her guard. She almost blurted that she’d missed him. Maybe the sentiment was something else he’d stirred into her tea.

Determined to shake off the feeling, she straightened in her chair. “How do you know about the hotel? You aren’t psychic. Was Celeste just here?”

“Since I don’t have any sense of time passing, I can only say she has been here twice since last I saw you. But no, she didn’t tell me about the hotel.”

“Then how?”

“She brought me something for safekeeping.” His gaze slid away to land on the workbench behind her.

Turning in her chair, she spied a crystal ball, its rosy hues unmistakable. “My mother’s ball? Celeste gave that to you?”

Morin gave her one of his glib smiles. “It’s not mine. Or even Lorene’s anymore. You charged it last. I simply used its connection to see what you’ve been doing.”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Disbelief had her voice rising.

Morin shrugged nonchalantly while his gaze honed. “I wouldn’t call it that. Just keeping abreast. To ensure your safety, my dear.”

“And just what have you seen?” She gasped and pressed against her chest. Good Lord, her mind went straight to the intimate parts of her life.

“I’ve watched you studying your mother’s book. I’m pleased you’re resuming your studies.”

“I’m not—” she started to lie, then had another thought. “What else have you seen?”

“I know that your husband—”

“Ex-husband—”

“Doesn’t trust you. He can’t resist you, but he doesn’t trust you.”

A low growl sounded beside her, and she slipped a hand to the bunched muscles of Sam’s thigh to warn him not to react. She’d take care of this. “This is outrageous. Even for you, Morin.”

He pulled back as though struck, and she felt a moment’s remorse. But hey, he’d probably been watching her and Sam make love, something Sam was going to figure out pretty damn quick.

Anger boiled up inside. However, Cait had always been honest with herself. Anger wasn’t the only thing she felt. Arousal wound deep inside at the thought of what this decadent man might have seen. Heat flushed her cheeks and tightened her nipples. Reactions Morin noted, no doubt, given his steady stare.

His pupils dilated. “But you aren’t here to fight.”

I’m also not here to make love, she almost countered. His voice was that seductive rumble that never failed to skitter deliciously along her spine, making her excruciatingly aware of every little change in her body as her desire rose.

These feelings were a betrayal. Maybe not overt, but she loved Sam, and she didn’t like that this twisted, handsome creature could so easily make her forget that. Taking a deep, calming breath, she said, “You’re right. We’re not on point. I have a problem. One you might be able to help me figure out.”

“Tell me everything.” His hand reached out and cupped the back of hers, but she slowly dragged it from beneath his and placed it on her lap.

Morin’s mouth firmed. His expression grew more guarded, but he nodded, conceding the battle.

As Cait began relating all that had happened, from the night of Sylvia Reyes’s disappearance to the moment she’d been zapped at the crime scene, Morin remained silent, his expression elusive.

When she finished, she sat, waiting for a long moment while he studied her.

Morin shifted in his chair, and his gaze lit on Sam. “Be at ease. That spell should help the electrical charge find ground without harming her again.”

Sam nodded as though he believed him. And maybe he did. Sam took a lot on faith these days, especially regarding things that weren’t exactly by the book.

“I haven’t spied on your intimate life, at least not purposely.” Sam’s gaze hardened, but Morin moved back to her. “This is a classic haunting.”

“Ghosts? Wraiths? I’ve only seen the one spirit, Sylvia’s, and certainly no wispy, freezing winds.”

“Not a ghostly haunting. This is strictly demonic. Somewhere among the guests, there is a demon who has attached himself to the premises. The walls are his skin, the beams his bones. When he consumes a human victim, he takes them inside himself, into the walls to feed.”

Her lips curled in disgust. “Ew.”

“You were lucky Sam was there. If you’d been alone, you might well have been pulled inside and devoured.”

Cait shivered. Another thought niggled. “How is he taking them back in time to deposit them?”

Morin’s shoulder lifted. “Bending time, stopping time—that’s not so difficult, Caitlyn. You’re asking the wrong question.” His gaze narrowed. “Why is he taking them back?”

“Do you know?”

“Perhaps he does because it’s easier to hide his victims. Law enforcement wasn’t as sophisticated or connected in those days. Or perhaps he’s sentimental.”

“Do you think he first attached himself to that house all those years ago?”

His expression approving, he nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Should I be looking for someone older, then?”

“He’s a demon. And if he’s been feeding on human life-force, he might not age. So, no, don’t narrow your search to an elderly person.”

Frustration tightened her muscles. She wasn’t getting concrete answers she could work with, so she asked another question. “How do I figure out who it is?”

“A demon this powerful can’t detach himself from the structure. And he can’t depend on guests to fulfill his appetites. This Sylvia was lured there by a helper. She was seduced into a meeting inside the hotel. You might have an incubus. It would make sense. An incubus seduces his victims, then drains them of their energy once they are aroused. If he’s not a soulless killer, he’ll take only what he needs, sparing his victim. In this case, he likely leaves them only weakened so the demon can finish them. If you encounter one, be careful because he will be powerfully potent. You won’t be able to resist his allure,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “Now that the demon of the house knows you are seeking him and has tasted for himself what you are, he’ll have his minion trolling for you. You could be in great danger.”