He pushed the bubbling Germanic stein towards me. “Drink.”
My heart thudded. My fingers fidgeted. All I could think of was Snapdragon—the Halloween game my grandmother played with us. The dragon outlined in flame, and the bowl a golden fire, the chant echoing in my ears: Snap! Snap! Dragon! Take care you don’t get burned.
“I’m here for the job. Not a drink.”
“The jobs for a ghostwriter, you aren’t a ghost yet.”
I gulped and looked out the window. The castle’s sharp profile cut into the night sky.
I turned away, uneasy. A silvery mirror reflected the bubbling brew, but not him. I swiveled around. His pointed eye teeth rested over his red lips. He has no reflection.
"I should go."
His vice-like hand clamped mine. “It’s too late for that.”
He pushed the mug closer.
I shoved it hard across the table and ran out the door.
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