Chapter 2

I was still on the floor, my body too weak to move, when Old Man Blakely' s nurse wheeled him into the kitchen. He was the family patriarch, Ethan' s grandfather, and the only living soul who knew the truth about me.

His face, usually a mask of frail indifference, was twisted in horror. He saw the blood on the floor, the vacant look in my eyes. He knew what it meant.

"He did it," the old man rasped, his voice thin and papery. "The fool. I warned him."

His nurse pushed his wheelchair closer. He reached out a trembling hand, his eyes pleading.

"Forgive him, Jocelyn. Please. He doesn't know what he's done. The family..."

I just stared at him. Forgiveness? My spirit beast, my other half, had been skinned and burned. The bond that had held me in this mortal form for a century was shattered.

"The pact is broken, Mr. Blakely," I said, my voice cold and empty. "The Blakelys are on their own now."

He flinched as if I' d slapped him. "No... you can' t. The wells... the company... everything will be lost."

"That is the price," I said.

Just then, the back door slammed open. Ethan stood there, his expensive shirt stained with mud and something darker. He looked from his grandfather to me on the floor, and his handsome face contorted with rage.

"What did you say to him?" he snarled, striding over to me. "What lies have you been telling? He tried to throw Maria out! A pregnant woman!"

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled me to my feet. The sudden movement sent a jolt of agony through me, and my legs buckled.

"You're just jealous," he spat, his face inches from mine. "Jealous of Maria, jealous of our baby. You couldn't give me a child, so now you want to poison everyone against her."

I laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Maria? The pious saint? The woman who swore to my face that you and she were 'just friends'?"

"She is a good woman!" he roared, shaking me. "Better than a barren, cold-hearted witch like you!"

I looked past him, at the dark swamp beyond the manicured lawn. I could feel the last echoes of my alligator's life fading away. The power inside me churned, a hurricane waiting to be unleashed. I was still too weak to control it, but it was there, a promise of what was to come.

He saw the look in my eyes and shoved me away. I stumbled backward, crashing into the kitchen table.

"You think you're so high and mighty," he sneered. "Living in my house, spending my money. You are nothing without me."

The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. He had no idea that he was nothing without me.