<span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">There were ghosts hanging from the ceiling and skeletons that were decaying in the closet that held the story of just why she had left him when she did. And they say dead men tell no tales. The pair of them had seen their fair share of violence and death for those things to be lingering. Her eyes flinched when he spoke and she darted a glance to the box of files she hadn’t yet rifted through. Sighing, she pushed it more to the side when he informed her that there was nothing more than old tax forms, but she didn’t quite move off the edge of his bed yet. Absently, her fingers teased the hem of the shirt she wore, her bare legs dangling over the edge. Her toenails were painted a bright cherry red, matching the nails that gripped the sheets on either side of her. Hunching forward, she used her palms to push herself up off the bed and tilted her head to look up at him. One of those ghosts from the past haunted her stare as she studied him and created the sad smile that tugged at the edges of her mouth.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“It’s good to see you too, Dante,” she commented, her tone snarky but soft. “I missed you so I decided to pay you a visit is why I’m here. And from the sounds of it, you really missed me too.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
There’s the eye roll he was used to, the devilish grin that crinkled the corners of her eyes and crinkled her nose. No matter that it was with false hopes; the sarcasm was just a part of the sass factor that she came with, and he would know better than any that it came loaded with the petite redhead as a packaged deal with the rest of it. It was also the best coping mechanism that she had from the reality of why he hadn’t seen or heard from her in the past three years. No doubt he had assumed the worst from her from the get go and hadn’t bothered to find out why. Or wanted to believe what everyone else said. She wasn’t about to indulge him just yet though.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
No, she waited until he stormed out of the room before she lurched from the bed, leaving the box of files behind without another glance at them. Her bare feet were silent on the floor of his home and she moved like a whisper to come up behind him, but not before she hovered in the hallway that separated his living room from bedroom to watch him heft the painting and sword. Pushing off like pushing through an invisible barrier, she reached out to touch the hilt of the sword, only to yank her hand back hard when a spell arced right through her fingertips to give her a good shock. She was of fae descent, one of the wildling things, her ancestors called puca from the Old Country. Things such as he held now were what attracted her to this lifestyle and one of the reasons why she was back in that place.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“I hid something here a while ago. Before I left. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have known it was something important. It’s an encrypted code to a vault that my gran kept in her basement…” She hesitated, the flippant tone of her voice dropping as it was tinged with something sadder. “She passed three years ago and now I need to get into her vault. I don’t know the spell.” <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
She wasn’t ready to ask for his help, though. Not with the anger emanating off him like that. Dropping her eyes away from his clenched jaw expression and angry eyes, she raised her hands and rubbed her elbows as he guided her right into his own secret showcase of just what he had been up to for the last few years. Her gaze moved there, to what he had been hidden, and unbidden her lips pressed together to emit a harsh whistle. “Impressive,” she grinned with the word, though now the mischief was laden with melancholy. “Looks like you didn’t waste time, lover of mine. Something got the red handed itch and didn’t just stop because I wasn’t in the picture to be a bad influence. Good job, Dante."</span></span>