Fear and dread are small words to describe my emotions. A lump of painful anxiety was stuck in my throat. Eventually, my tightened chest muscles would give out, bearing one astonishing news after the other.
My stomach turned. I am not sure which of the following disturbed me the most:
I shared a few nights of passion with an imposter, possibly a demon.
Or, the man who had protected me and I had begun to grow fond of was a malignant spirit.
“Cass, are you okay?” Becky touched my arm.
“Yes, of course,” I lied through my teeth. “What were you saying about your great aunt, Elaine?”
“Madame Meredith Long is one of the oldest white witches alive. She is the only one I know capable of detecting an imposter correctly. If Desmond is an incubus with some special ability, then she is the only o
