Red House (3 page)

The radio fell silent. I put my glasses back on, not caring enough to take a look at the man’s aura. Flicking my gaze to Daniel, I raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Ten minutes later we left the house with the radio under Daniel’s arm, his wallet considerably lighter. I made a place for it in the living room on an accent table under a window. As I walked around the room lighting candles with a disposable lighter, the radio came on playing
Nashville Jumps
by Cecil Grant, a song popular on the John R. rhythm and blues show decades ago. I stared at the radio, wondering if it was taunting me, then I threw the lighter on the coffee table and lit the last three candles with a flick of my magic will.

“Just like riding a bike.”

I turned to see my cousin in the doorway. “What’s that?”

He jerked his chin in the direction of the last candle I’d lit as he crossed the room to the bar. “Using magic. I guess all you had to do was quit worrying about it and get back in the saddle.”

I frowned. “What is it with you and saddles? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” I flopped on the sofa, dropped my feet on the coffee table and stared at the radio. It seemed content to stay with the John R. show.

Soft clinking noises came from the bar as Daniel made our drinks. Thankfully he didn’t try to engage me in conversation. Despite the music and the indication I hadn’t lost my mojo after all, I’d slipped into another funk. I only noticed when he brought my drink to me because he nudged my boots. Giving him a guilty look, I sat up and took off the boots, tucking my feet under me as I tasted the drink.

“This is good, what is it?”

“Black Russian. It’s vodka and coffee liqueur.” He grinned as he sank into the cushy chair perpendicular to the sofa. “Of course I call mine a Bloody Russian.”

“A little O positive mixed in?”

“B negative for a change.” He picked up his e-reader from the end table and disappeared into a book.

I disappeared into my own thoughts. That little bit of success tasted even better than the drink. After weeks of failure and feeling useless, I felt a tiny glimmer of hope I might be able to work again.

* * * *

Blake’s dark chocolate eyes flashed in the candle light, his expression full of sensual promise. I grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him down on top of me, wrapping one leg around him. Seeking his mouth with a hunger I’d never felt for any other man’s kiss, I captured his lips and used my tongue to tell him what I wanted. His hands were a cooling tonic as they roamed across my skin.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

“I’m right here.” Whatever else I might have said dissolved into a moan as he slid inside me. Filling me, stretching me, every nerve ending on fire.

The jangle of the alarm clock dragged me out of the dream too soon. Groaning in frustration, I smacked it quiet. I didn’t know what was worse, missing Blake the Sexy Sorcerer while I was conscious and should know better than to pine for a man like him, or having all these erotic dreams about him when ostensibly I couldn’t help it.

An early meeting with a potential client gave me no chance of going back to sleep and seeing him in my dreams again, no matter how much I wanted to. After a shower I debated about what to wear. My usual t-shirt and jeans didn’t seem appropriate for a client who wanted to meet at the cafe at the Frist Center For The Visual Arts, so I opted for something a little nicer. Understated makeup, hair tamed into a smooth ponytail, pretty blue and white floral patterned blouse and skirt, medium nude heels. I looked quite respectable and very unlike myself. It made me self-conscious as hell. I wanted Daniel’s opinion, but he was asleep and I wasn’t going to wake the slumbering vampire for fashion advice.

The silence in the house grated on my nerves. I ate toast standing over the kitchen sink, trying to be careful of the makeup. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on something else, my thoughts turned to Blake. I’d met him four months ago while on a case. He was the sorcerer who conjured the evil entity I was hired to get rid of, which should have made him a bad guy. I had plenty of excuses for not hating him, though. The fact that he was lied to, the fact that he wasn’t malicious, that he made me feel more alive than any other man I’d known. I left him asleep after the only time we made love to go deal with that evil demon problem, and I hadn’t seen him since. He disappeared with no indication he might return. If I could stop thinking about him all the time, stop dreaming about being in his arms every night, maybe I could forget him. Clearly he had no interest in me.

I tossed half a piece of uneaten toast in the trash, angry at myself for wanting a man who didn’t want me. Whatever kind of problem this new client had, I hoped it was a doozy. I badly needed the distraction of work.

* * * *

Mrs. Julia Epps was an energetic sixty-something, impeccably turned out in a cream skirt suit accented with tasteful jewelry and a handbag worth more than everything I was wearing. What impressed me most was her hair. She had the kind of former beauty queen hair I wished I could mock, but really I was jealous of it. Thick and lustrous, jet black with a lovely wide streak of gray down the left side, it fell down her shoulders and back in a long graceful wave. How did she get it so smooth? Was it a product sold at a store, or would I have to bargain a piece of my soul to get my hair to do that?

I took a sip of my cappuccino and focused on what she was telling me.

“Maple Hill has been in my family since before the Civil War. It’s had its ups and downs over time but after my late husband and I moved back home from California, we were able to restore it. It’s primarily a bed-and-breakfast now but we also host various functions in the ballroom from time to time. It’s a popular place for cotillions and fundraisers.”

In addition to her hair, I wanted her voice. Mrs. Epps sounded like central casting’s version of a genteel Southern lady, elegant and refined. If she’d ever dropped a
G
in her life I’d be shocked. “What sort of problem have you been having, ma’am?”

“Well, first it was flickering lights. I called an electrician but he said nothing was wrong. Then the pipes started making strange noises. Of course I called a plumber. Once again, nothing wrong.”

“Have you ever felt a sudden drop in temperature anywhere in the house?”

Mrs. Epps nodded as she sipped her coffee. “Yes, quite frequently lately. Once again, I called a contractor to take a look at the central air system.”

“But nothing was wrong.” I pushed my glasses up. “Have there been guests in the house since this started?”

“At first. As these things began to happen, guests complained.”

“Has anybody seen anything? Any of the guests or the staff talk about seeing anything that seemed strange?”

A very deliberate pause. She fiddled with the diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist for several heartbeats. “A few people said they saw things moving in the shadows, in the dark at night.”

She was leaving something out. “What else?” She drew her mouth into a thin line, eyes avoiding mine. “Mrs. Epps, did you see something?”

“There are cats.” Her voice low and strangled.

“Ma’am?”

Mrs. Epps cleared her throat and met my gaze. “I have a weakness for strays, especially cats. There’s always at least two or three living in the shed behind the house. One had a litter recently. I found homes for all but one. I wanted to keep a little calico as my own. I named her Dixie.” She had to pause again. I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Did something happen to Dixie?”

“I had her in the house with me. We were alone in the parlor at night. The lights flickered, the room got cold. Very cold.” She leaned across the table and grabbed my hand. “There was something there, Miss Mathis. And it was angry. So angry. I couldn’t see anything but I could feel it. And then it…it picked up Dixie…and crushed her.”

I placed my free hand on top of hers. Mrs. Epps crumpled briefly before regaining her composure.

“I can’t explain it. Something I couldn’t see did that to my kitten.” She pulled her hands free and retrieved a handkerchief from her purse, dabbing at the tears threatening to spill. “I ran from the room screaming. I didn’t know what to do or think. When I went back in there later with my groundskeeper, whatever killed Dixie had used her blood to write on the wall.”

“What did it say?”

“
Get out
. It said,
get out
. So I did. I evacuated all the guests and staff right then and haven’t opened the place since. Miss Mathis, there have been stories of a ghost on the property for years, but nothing like this has ever happened. Nothing. Whatever did this is new and I want it gone. Maple Hill may be a public inn now, but it is still my home. Do you understand, Miss Mathis? I won’t lose my home to this, this, whatever it is.”

I nodded, taking her hands again. “I do understand and I’m going to do everything I can to help you.” I tried to convey as much reassurance as I could.

We were silent for several minutes as Mrs. Epps calmed herself and we both finished our coffee. “I’m spending the day with my grandchildren. My granddaughter Shelby wanted to go to the Egyptian exhibit here. Tyler, her younger brother, claims he would prefer to stay home but I know he’ll enjoy the mummies and whatnot. It’s hard to get them to do anything together anymore, with Shelby about to start college in the fall, so I took advantage of their mutual interest.”

I had the sense she needed to say these things, just to talk about something normal. Something full of life and sweetness and not the horror taking place in her home. “Do you spend much time with your grandkids?”

She nodded. “My daughter is divorced so I do whatever she needs to help out. I’m staying with them for now.” There was a long pause, as if she were preparing herself to talk about the house again. “Can you start tomorrow? I don’t know how this sort of thing works.”

“What I usually do is take a look, get a first impression. Then I do research on the property if I think it’s necessary. Talk to any witnesses that are available.”

“That sounds just perfect. I’m so glad you can start so quickly.”

“Starting right away is about all I can guarantee, Mrs. Epps. I’m going to do everything I can, but it may not be a quick fix and it may not be easy. I want you to be prepared for that.”

“I feel better knowing help is on the way.” She ran a hand down her hair and smiled. “Now I need to get this out of my thoughts for the rest of the day. The kids are entirely too curious about this. We tried to tell them the pipes burst but my granddaughter overheard us talking about ghosts. Shelby’s been full of questions. I hope these Egyptians are enough to distract her.” She smiled fondly.

We agreed on a time for tomorrow and said our goodbyes. I watched her leave, stopping just beyond the doors of the cafe to meet two teenagers. The boy was lanky, on his way to being tall, with sandy blond hair that flopped into his face. The older sister was the shorter of the two, in skinny jeans and a
We Are Nashville
t-shirt. She’d inherited her grandma’s hair. It hung down her back in a sleek ponytail. Color flared around the edges of my glasses. Curious, I tipped them down to take a look. Sure enough, Shelby’s aura glowed twilight blue, the color I most associated with psychic and magical ability. She turned her head and met my gaze, lifting an eyebrow. Mrs. Epps didn’t notice, focused on the boy at the moment. A long string of people passed in front of me. Mrs. Epps and her grandchildren were gone by the time my line of sight was clear.

“This is what I get for wishing for a doozy,” I muttered to myself. The thought of kitten-killing angry spirits filled me with nothing but dread. I’d have to figure out a way to talk to the girl too, preferably without outing her.

I left the cafe, heading to the courtyard and the parking lot beyond. I stopped just outside the door to exchange my glasses for prescription sunglasses, needing them in the bright glare of the summer sun. After just a few steps I came to a halt again.

Blake Harvill stood at the far end of the courtyard.

Chapter 3

Blake stood watching me. I let myself drink in the sight of him. Blue jeans and a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. Thick black hair slightly longer than the last time I’d seen him, a lock falling across his forehead. Heavy eyebrows framing sinfully delicious dark chocolate eyes, full lips perpetually on the verge of a sexy smirk.

Unable to help it, I took off my glasses and allowed myself a good look at his aura. Expecting to see the same shining black starfield full of supernovas, I was unprepared for the deep twilight blue with tendrils of dark magenta and laced with hints of silver. I’d only seen his aura look like that once before–when we made love.

Frozen, I didn’t realize he was walking toward me until he was halfway across the courtyard. I didn’t know what to do. Should I turn my back to him and walk away? We’d spent one night together four months ago, then he disappeared and I hadn’t heard from him since. As far as I was concerned I owed him nothing. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear his excuses, either. He was a dangerous man who liked to play with dark magic. Being sexy as hell didn’t give him a free pass for all his shady doings, or for never calling me. Walking away was definitely the thing to do.

So why didn’t I? Well, I never had sense enough to get in out of the rain, either.