Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

by Kaylie Smith

There were two golden rules their mother had taught them about roaming New Orleans after dark: the first was that if the dark looks at you, you never look back. That was a surefire way to be caught by a Devil.

The second rule was that if you did break the first, never ever make any deals with a Devil. Not unless you wanted to lose your soul.

Ophelia couldn’t help but wonder if she was wildly unprepared to assimilate into normal society without their mother as her guide. Death she was familiar with. Living would be the real challenge.

Souls that are dead cannot cross roses of red,

Genevieve bit her lip at the mention of the forged checks.

It make be early...but... sister is a b!tech and planned this.

This wasn’t a fantasy. No, this was very real. And she knew in certain places, to certain kinds of beings, names held too much power to freely give them away.

“The dark is for people who are too cowardly to face their actions in the light,”

“Go home,” the stranger advised. “A house of Devils is no place for an angel like you.”

“A heart and a key would set me free,” it said. “But you should hope we do not meet again, angel.”

Despite what some mortals believed, Hell was not meant to be a punishment for humans who lived sinfully before they died. Human morality was much too diverse and fickle to base an entire afterlife on after all.

And despite what human lore loved to suggest, the beings that belonged to Heaven were no more good or bad than the ones of Hell.

“Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.” Cade gawked at the sight of Blackwell’s tall frame, but his expression quickly soured as he spat, “Incredible, even Demons have whores⁠—” Blackwell grabbed Cade’s wrist and twisted his arm until he screeched in agony. “Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.”

She buried her face into the crook of his throat. “You came.” “You called,” he answered.

“I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.” He tilted his face up to whisper his next words right into her ear. “I want to taste your sins.”

Fall in love within Phantasma at your own risk.

“Clearly, I didn’t wear you out enough if you’re already awake,” he drawled.

Which means you’re the key to his undoing.”

I feel like that is a clue, you know topped with the heart shaped locket and all...

“That’s not how things work, angel. Life is not measured in good or bad thoughts—it’s how you treat the world around you despite them. All the people who only do good deeds because of what that might gain them in the afterlife are no better than those who indulge in a little sin every once in a while.”

“If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.” “My body, your altar,” she offered.

“In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,” he vowed to her.

“In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,” he lamented as she began to come undone. “My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.”

“Blackwell?” she whispered. “Firstly, let me reintroduce myself.” He dipped his head in a formal bow.

“Now or never, angel,” he told her. This was it. What everything since her mother’s death had led to. Her choosing what sort of future she was going to have. What sort of legacy. “What’s your decision?”