Chapter 4
A MURDER HOUSE. Lovely. I glanced beyond her at the house. Was it haunted? Or was the neighborhood really that dangerous? So many questions flew through my mind, and I knew that Angel was probably entertaining most of them as well.
“Before we head inside, tell us about the murder, please.” I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. If we didn’t find any ghosts hanging around, owning a nefarious house might be worth the stigma, if it was in good condition and given the size of the lot.
Rachel led us over to the porch swing, where she motioned for us to sit down. She leaned against the railing, and I had the feeling she had told the story more than once.
“The granddaughter—I think her name was Aimee—broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks before the murder. He wanted her back, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. He was from a troubled family, if I remember the story correctly, and violent. She told him to get lost and he started stalking her. I’m not clear on what happened, but he snapped. Aimee was staying with her grandmother. The guy broke into the house, and took an axe to both of them. It was brutal, and grisly. The neighbor found them the next morning when she went over to borrow some sugar from the grandmother.”
“Did they catch the guy?” My first concern was that the murderer might still be out there and for some reason decide to revisit the house.
Rachel shook her head. “He killed himself at the scene.”
Well, that was one worry off the table, but it meant there were three violent deaths that had happened in the house.
“Who owns the house now?”
“Aimee’s mother. Juliana Tallwood. She can’t bear to even come near the house. She’s been trying to sell it since shortly after the murder. It was on the market for about six months, without a single nibble, so she delisted it, and had it fully upgraded so it would sell faster. It’s been on the market for a total of 400 days. Nobody seems to be willing to live in a place where people were murdered.” Rachel glanced at me, and it was apparent from her expression that she expected us to get up and walk out.
I glanced at Angel. “That’s probably why I felt an alarm go off. What do you think? Should we have a look inside?” I trusted her judgment.
Angel closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced back at me. “I don’t know if it’s haunted or not, but there’s a lot of cobwebby energy around. We’d have to do a thorough cleaning if we take it. And if there are any ghosts, we’ll have to have someone exorcise them. I’m not very good at doing things like that.”
I thought about it for a moment, then looked back over at Rachel, who was pretending that she wasn’t listening to us.
“All right, let’s take a look since we’re here.”
A look of relief spreading over her face, Rachel led us to the door and unlocked it.
THE INSIDE OF the house was a pleasant surprise. The rooms were spacious, and the layout was good. It maximized every square foot of space. The hardwood floors gleamed, and although there weren’t as many windows as I would have liked, there was enough light to make it feel airy. The walls were painted a creamy white, and the trim, a rich walnut color. As we entered the foyer, a coat closet to the left offered storage. Straight ahead, an arched opening led into the living room. The room was large, with a long row of built-ins along the opposite wall, with the fireplace being the central focal point. The brick had been painted white. They had done everything in their power to make the house feel clean and new.
We looked around, then Rachel led us back into the hall where the staircase led up to the second floor. We skirted it, passing a half-bath on the left, then an office space on the right, as we headed into the kitchen–dining room. It occurred to me we could blow out the end wall in the living room to create one giant room.
The kitchen was also spacious. The counters were a silvery gray quartz, and the backsplash was composed of long narrow strips of pale blue glass interspersed with dark blue ceramic. The appliances were stainless steel. All in all, it was an inviting room. The energy was heavy, though, and it felt poised, as if waiting, especially in the dining nook where the table was. To the right of the kitchen was a nook with a stackable washer and dryer in it, both new, along with a narrow pole for hanging clothes. The washer and dryer appeared to be included with the house.
“So, where were they murdered?” I glanced over at Rachel.
She paled. “Aimee was sitting at the table. Her grandmother was baking cookies. The kitchen has been upgraded and the floors were replaced.”
Even though she didn’t say it, I knew it was because of the blood. I remembered the blood on the floor of the kitchen when I found my parents.
Angel was looking around carefully, but if she had anything to say, she kept it to herself.
After that, Rachel took us upstairs where we looked at three bedrooms and two baths. One belonged to the master suite, the other was a Jack-and-Jill between the other two bedrooms. There was also an open space upstairs that could be used for a sitting room. All of the rooms seemed relatively spacious, given the amount of square footage, and Rachel informed us there was also an attic, accessible through a trap door in the third bedroom, as well as a finished basement. She led us downstairs, opening a door between the kitchen and the hall bath, showing us the stairway leading to the basement. The basement itself felt slightly cramped, but it would work for storage. I looked around for signs of water damage.
“Has this house ever flooded? You know the urban flooding we get in Seattle.”
There was a lot of urban flooding in Seattle during the rainy season, which lasted from mid-September till around May.
“I don’t think so, but I will check. The owner didn’t mention anything about it.”
Of course she hadn’t. And if the house had ever flooded, that would be one more strike on top of it being a murder house. I glanced over at Angel. “Rachel, can you give Angel and me a moment?”
Rachel nodded, pointing toward the stairs. “I’ll be upstairs when you need me. Take your time.”
After she left the room, I let out a long sigh and sat down on a built-in banquette.
“Well, what do you think? I suppose we should see the outside first.”
Angel shrugged. “It’s not a bad house. There’s a lot of room, and while I prefer an open concept, for the price, it’s going to be hard to beat.”
“I suppose we could open up the wall between the kitchen and living room. That would be ideal, though we don’t know what the situation is with load-bearing walls. But what do you think about the energy?”
“This is one of those times I wish I could read the cards as well as Mama J.,” Angel said. “I don’t feel any ghosts, at least not outright. I do know the energy is stagnant and a little creepy, but I think we could take care of any lingering shadows. It’s hard to tell if there are ghosts here on such a short visit, and until we cleanse the house, we won’t really be able to tell what we’re dealing with.”
We rejoined Rachel upstairs, where she escorted us onto the deck that wrapped around the house from the living room around the kitchen. It looked to be in good repair, and as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t actually wood, but that wonderful polyresin material that never needed care except for the occasional hosing off.
Rachel led us over to the gate that opened into the second lot. The lot was a tangle of undergrowth, but a rose garden was hiding beneath the overgrowth of tall grass and ferns, and there were some raised beds that indicated someone had indeed raised vegetables at one time. A large apple tree stood in one corner of the lot, and several fir trees in another. The potential was incredible. We could create a magical garden out here. Visions of a water fountain and birdbaths and a gazebo danced in my head.
I turned to Angel, who smiled slowly.
“You love it, don’t you?” she asked.
I nodded, barely able to say a word. “Do you realize how beautiful this could be? My mother had beautiful gardens when I was young, and I helped her keep them tidy and neat.”
“Let’s do it,” she said. “I’m pretty sure we can clear out the lingering energy, and while I don’t sense any ghosts, even if there are I’m sure we can find a way to make peace with them.”
“Are you sure? You wouldn’t mind living here? The mortgage would be a lot cheaper than I thought we’d be facing.” In fact, with the sale of my condo, I could probably pay off half the house upfront. And I knew my condo would sell.
Angel nodded. “It’s beautiful. The house is actually nice. I think we could make this a showplace.” She paused. “Do you think Viktor can swing a hammer?”
I laughed. “I think Viktor can swing a sledgehammer with no problem. Are you thinking of enlisting him and Herne to help us renovate?”
“Isn’t that what friends are for?” Angel snickered. “You know, I think my Wulfine friends work in construction.”
At that point, Rachel appeared. “Well, what do you think?” She appeared to be prepared for yet another rejection. I looked at Angel, who gave me another nod.
“I think we’re interested. I’ll need an inspection. And since it is a murder house, and since it’s been on the market so long, I’m going in with a lower offer.” I might as well try to negotiate my way to the best price, given the circumstances.
“I don’t foresee that being much of an issue.” A smile spread over her face. “The list price is $592,000. If you want to make an offer, I’ll need a check for earnest money.”
I had enough in savings for that. “All right, but I want a stipulation that if the house inspection shows damage that they are unwilling to fix—other than minor issues—they either lower the price to match the cost of fixing it, or I get my earnest money back. Fifteen thousand okay?”
“That’s fine.” She motioned toward the house. “Would you like to go in and formalize the offer?”
“Why not? I’ll be out of town for a few days starting tomorrow, but you can always text me. Meanwhile, I’ll do some research and find a good inspector.” I had brought my checkbook just in case.
We trooped into the kitchen, where she spread out her papers on the counter. As she filled out the form, I looked around again. Angel was right. This was a beautiful house, and it could be spectacular with enough work. I suspected that Herne would know plenty of people who could clear out the energy, so I wasn’t too worried about it.
“All right, I’ve added the stipulation about the earnest money. What would you like to offer?” Rachel glanced at me, her pen poised over the contract.
“Given how long it’s been on the market, let’s go in at $550,000. I know that’s low, but if she wants to sell, I’m ready to buy. And there doesn’t seem to be any other interested parties right now.”
Rachel blinked, and I could tell she wasn’t all that thrilled with my offer, but she wrote it up without comment. “Sign here, and here, if you would.”
She handed me the forms and I looked them over, reading them carefully before I added my signature. I handed them back.
“You have my phone number. Text me when you know anything. As I said, I’ll be out of town for the next few days, so you might let the owner know that as well.”
As we left the house, I glanced back at it. In some ways, it already felt like home. I could see the potential of what it could become, and that made me happy. All we had to do was get rid of the residue energy, and evict any ghosts who weren’t supposed to be there.
BACK AT THE agency, we told them our news.
“Do you have any recommendations for a good exorcist? I’m not sure if there are any ghosts there attached to the house, but there’s definitely some residue energy that feels squirmy. But the house is lovely, and it has so much land.”
Herne just shook his head. “Only you would come across a murder house. Yes, I know several talented witches who can exorcise spirits. If you end up buying the place, I’m sure that we can clear it without a problem. Now, can we talk about Whidbey Island?”
We all pulled out our notebooks and tablets, prepared to take notes.
Talia handed around a printout to each of us. “So, I did a background check on Jona. It wasn’t squeaky clean, but there wasn’t anything problematic that would lead me to believe he was the target of an assassin. He didn’t seem to have any enemies, and although he had wracked up a few debts, he was in the process of paying them off on a regular basis. His wife’s family liked him. He had plenty of friends, and he was a hard worker.”
“What did he do again?” Viktor asked.
“He was an urban farmer. He raised blueberries, and he also sold eggs and honey at the local farmers’ market. He had beehives on his property.” Talia shrugged, shaking her head. “He had a real talent for farming—a real green thumb. His blueberries received rave reviews from his customers.”
“So what’s his wife doing now? Is she keeping up with the family business? And his rivals? Or rather, the other farmers? Were there any that seemed to resent him?”
Talia consulted her notes. “There was an insurance policy, so his wife received a payout for $200,000. She sold the hives to another farmer, but she’s continuing to raise the blueberries and eggs. She put most of the cash in a trust for their son. She’s not wealthy by any means, but she seems to do all right. As far as other farmers, a Mr. Strickland Davis bought the hives. He has a thriving honey business and used Jona’s hives to expand it.”
“Could Jona have been cutting into his business enough to make him consider murder?” Viktor asked.
Yutani shook his head. “I suppose it’s always possible, but I did a little sleuthing into their bank accounts. Don’t ask how, you don’t want to know. Davis is what you might call a ‘gentleman farmer.’ Meaning he inherited money from his parents. He’s human. I doubt if the hives he bought from Marilyn will actually make much of an improvement. In fact, I get the impression he bought them to help her out. He bought them for more than the going price, from the looks of things. He and Jona were friendly rivals, from what I can tell.”
A thought occurred to me, given Ray’s recent behavior. “If Davis bought the hives for more than the going price, could he have a thing for Marilyn? If so, could that have led to Jona’s demise?”
“Good question,” Herne said. He motioned to Talia. “Any ideas? Was Marilyn having an affair? Or were there any signs that she was having trouble with this man?”
Talia shrugged. “That I don’t know. I doubt it, given she had just had a baby shortly before Jona died. We’ve barely scratched the surface on our investigation, so there’s not a lot to go on. I did, however, discover that someone warned the editor of the Whidbey Island Gazette to back off from sensationalizing the story. I happen to know somebody up on Whidbey Island. Rosetta, my friend, works part-time for the Gazette. She’s the society reporter. I called her to see if I could find out any dirt on the incident. She told me that shortly after Jona’s body was found, somebody called the editor. Rosetta happened to be listening on the line after she transferred them.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Small-town life, hmm?”
Talia laughed, shaking her head. “What can I say? It’s not like there’s a whole lot of action on the island and Rosetta is nosy. But what can you expect from a werecat? Curiosity, etc.”
“Rosetta’s a cat shifter?” Angel asked.
“Yes, Norwegian Forest cat—like your Mr. Rumblebutt, only he’s not a shifter. She’s a transplant from Norway. There’s a large Scandinavian population in the islands. Anyway, she overheard someone—a man—warning the editor in no uncertain terms that he was not to sensationalize Jona’s death, to tamp out the rumor mill as much as possible. Rosetta has no clue who it was, except that his first name was Roland.”
“Well, that’s an interesting tidbit.” Herne cleared his throat, riffling through the papers. “Is there anything else we should know before we hit the island?”
“The hippocampi are a proud people,” Yutani said. “They like elegance, they’re usually well off, and they don’t like being lumped in with the rest of the Fae. They tend to look on both the Light and the Dark courts as their country bumpkin cousins.”
“In other words, don’t call them Fae to their face?” I grinned at him. “Got it. I don’t blame them.” I might still be a tad bitter toward both, considering both courts were to blame for my parents’ deaths. Add that to the fact that they considered me a pariah, a blight on their names, and there really wasn’t much love lost between me and either side of my heritage.
“Where are we staying?” Herne asked.
Angel scanned through her tablet. “I made reservations at the Edgewood Star, near Seacrest Cove. It’s run by a Wulfine family, but they cater to all races. The prices are reasonable, and the rooms look spacious. There’s a pool and a weight room. They have an in-house restaurant, and a coffee shop.”
“Sounds good. When’s check-in?”
“Noon tomorrow, and checkout is eleven a.m. I’ve booked us for three nights to start, and I asked them if there was a chance we could extend it if necessary. I had to pay them a twenty-dollar deposit per room to hold the rooms for longer, but the fee will be applied to our bill if we end up staying. If not, we’ll get half back.”
“Sounds good. Now, about transportation. I suggest we take three cars. I’ll drive, Yutani—bring your car, and Ember, can you also drive? That way we can split up into teams of two. Be sure to pack what you need for a week, just in case. Don’t forget your chargers, your phones, your tablets, laptops if you need them. Viktor will pack the weapons. We can always drive back to Seattle, but that’s a long jaunt.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Hell, I almost forgot. I need to find someone to take care of Mr. Rumblebutt. If we’re going to be gone for more than a couple days, I don’t want to leave him alone all that time.”
“I have the name of a good pet sitter,” Talia said. “I’ll call her and ask her to come over to your condo tomorrow morning, if you like.”
“Sure, but…” I blinked. This is the first time I’d ever heard that she had a pet. “You have a pet?” Realizing how that sounded, I blushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” she said, flashing me a cunning smile. “I know harpies are famous for eating animals, not cozying up to them. Remember, I can’t turn into my natural form and haven’t been able to for a long, long time. I actually have two dogs, greyhounds. They’re both rescues. I like a good steak, but I gave up exotic meats a long time ago.”
I laughed, still embarrassed. “I’d like to meet them some time. I’ve never been around a greyhound.”
“They can be skittish creatures, especially when they’ve been trained for racing. But they’re faithful, and they make for good company in the evening. I’ll call Ronnie and give her your address and let you know when I’ve set it up.”
I realized I didn’t know much about Talia’s home life, or really, much about any of them beyond the office, except for Herne. The past few months I had been so focused on him, and on the new job, that I was just starting to feel truly comfortable around the others. Viktor I knew better than Yutani and Talia. We hit it off, the half-ogre and I, and we had been out for drinks several times after a long day’s work.
“It’s seven now,” Herne said. “Why don’t you take off for home. Meet back here at seven thirty tomorrow morning. We’ll drive up, catch the earliest ferry we can, and we can scope out the island before we check in at the hotel. Get moving, we’ve got an early morning facing us.”
“I’ll catch you at home,” I told Angel, glancing at Herne.
She waved at me, then headed out of the room. Talia, Yutani, and Viktor filed out after her. I turned around, leaning against the wall, waiting for Herne to finish gathering his things.
“You still interested?” I gave him my best suggestive look, which I hoped didn’t look like I had a stomachache.
He looked me up and down, his eyes glimmering. “Interested is an understatement. Meet me in my office. I’ll be there in a moment.”
I swung out of the room, heading over to his office. Everyone was gone, so I paused at the reception area, locking the elevator so that nobody could enter the waiting room while we were in Herne’s office.
HERNE WAS WAITING for me when I opened the door. He was sprawled out on the daybed, naked as a jaybird. I caught my breath, once again struck by how incredibly gorgeous he was. Being the son of Cernunnos and Morgana had its perks, and one of those perks was a face and body to die for.
He slowly stood as I entered the room, rising gracefully as he flashed me a mischievous smile. “I’m ready for you,” he whispered.
And he was ready. The thews of his thighs were rippling, sturdy and rock solid. His hair spilled over his shoulder, brushing his shoulder blades. His chest was broad, and his arms and biceps were muscled without being bulky. His torso narrowed into his waist, and his abs were firm and trim, leading down into a beautifully formed “V” that highlighted his cock. Ready he was, standing at attention, firm and erect.
My knees went weak as I feasted on the sight of him.
He held out his arms to me. “Come here, you.”
“How the hell did you end up so beautiful?” I asked, leaning against the door jamb.
“Luck of the draw. But I’m not the one who’s beautiful here.” His gaze was fastened on me, the words rolling off his tongue like honey.
I slowly edged my way over to him, taking my time, enjoying the sight of his naked body. It’d taken us a month before we actually slept together, even though both of us wanted to jump in bed right away. But we gave it time. We went on dates, went out to dinner, to movies. By the time we were ready, we knew that what we were feeling was real. The chemistry had sizzled, and it still did.
I reached for my tank to pull it off, but he shook his head.
“Let me.” His voice was husky, ragged with lust.
I stopped just in front of him, and held up my arms. He took hold of the hem of my tank top, slowly stripping it from my body, the material brushing my skin as he removed it, then tossed it on one of the chairs.
“Turn around,” he ordered, and I obeyed.
He unhooked my bra, and my breasts bounced lightly as he slipped it off and tossed it on top of the tank top. The sudden coolness in the air chilled me, and my nipples stiffened.
Still standing behind me, he reached around with both hands, cupping my breasts, his fingers running lightly over my nipples. I moaned as I leaned against him. His erection pressed against my back, hard and thick and demanding.
He squeezed my breasts, almost hard enough to hurt, burying his face in my hair as he nuzzled it aside to kiss my neck. Then his hands slowly slid down to my stomach, coming to rest on my belt. I trembled as he unbuckled it, sliding it out from the belt loops and dropping it on the floor. I tried to stand still, though I wanted to squirm, to turn around and press against him.
“Don’t move,” he whispered as he began to unzip my jeans. “Not a muscle.”
I was shaking with hunger as he pushed the material down my hips, just enough so that he could slide his hand down the front of my stomach, down to the thatch of hair between my legs.
“Don’t stop—” I started to say, but he hushed me.
“Be quiet.” His voice was firm and commanding.
I fell silent, reveling in the touch of his fingers on my skin. He lowered his hand, sliding it between my legs to slip between the folds of my labia. With one finger, he began rubbing my clit, slowly at first, circling the nub, then harder.
I let out a faint cry as I pressed back against him, against his erection, and he shifted position.
“Spread your legs.”
I did as he asked, and the next moment he slipped his cock deep into me from behind, his girth stretching me wide, filling me so incredibly full that there was no spot inside me that he wasn’t touching.
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the arm of the wingback, as he began to pump, thrusting deeply into me, holding my hips as he slid in and out, at first slowly and then speeding up. My breasts bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, and I reached up to finger my nipples as Herne shifted, changing angles. I groaned again as he hit that perfect spot.
After a few moments, he slowly withdrew, his body sweaty against mine. “On the bed, woman. Ride me.” He stretched out on the daybed on his back.
I straddled him, holding his gaze as I growled, feeling feral and wild and on the prowl. Herne was my prey, now, and I was the hunter.
He gripped his cock, holding it erect, his eyes glowing.
I lowered myself onto his shaft. As he penetrated me, his girth once again making me gasp, he reached up to squeeze my breasts. I leaned one hand against the wall to brace myself, and with the other, I slowly fingered my clit, dropping my head back as I exposed my throat.
“Ride me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse and thick. “Fuck me hard.”
And so I rode him, bouncing up and down as he bucked beneath me. He brought his hands to my waist, holding me tight, lifting me up and down on his cock. I was wet, slick from hunger, and I picked up speed, leaning forward so my breasts raked his chest.
“I’m close,” I whispered, breathing hard as I tried to focus.
But the edge was near, and all around me I could feel the wild forest. And Herne was the silver stag, Lord of the Forest. Lord of my forest. The world spiraled around me, the distant sound of drums echoing with my heartbeat. And then I came, hard and fast and strong, hot tears catching in my throat as the orgasm hit me.
Herne was right behind. He stiffened, holding me still as he thrust one last time, so deep that it felt like he had penetrated every cell of my body. He let out a roar, then thrust again and once more, as I fell across his chest. Finally, we sprawled in a pool of sweat, exhausted and satiated.
“You good?” he whispered after a moment.
“I’m good,” I whispered back. And then, he kissed me, deep and loving, with all the tenderness in the world.