I woke up alone. Naked yet covered in a comforter. Body pleasantly sore. But alone.

Seriously?

Sitting up, I looked around the bedroom and noted, for the second time in as many days, its plain masculine décor from the heavy wooden furniture with its dark mahogany stain to the blue-patterned Berber carpet on the floor.

The comforter, no surprise, was more plaid, well-worn and soft. Heavy on my naked body. The guys had at least covered me before abandoning me.

Speaking of guys, where had they gone?

I clutched the fabric to my chest and wondered if they’d decided on a group endeavor to make breakfast because I could use some food right about now. A stack of pancakes smothered in butter and dripping syrup, freshly crisped bacon, the very salty kind, a glass of orange juice—you know, for some healthy vitamins—coffee to slap me awake, scrambled eggs, toast, mustn’t forget the jam, and some sausage—and I didn’t care what kind.

Rumble. My tummy totally agreed. All those orgasms made a girl hungry.

And not just for food. My va-jay-jay might have gotten a good workout, but it had a little quiver at the reminder of the previous night.

I am such a slut.

Fucking three best friends at once.

Talk about fun.

Especially since they made it all about me.

No wonder Chloe glowed since meeting her two guys. Did they always have sex in multiples?

And did this mean my wolves had claimed me? An inquiring girl wanted to know.

Exiting the bed, I noticed my clothes in a tidy pile with a note on top.

How sweet.

My smile turned upside down as I read it.

Had fun. Had to run. Later.

Later? What the hell did that mean?

Where did all three of them go? What was so fucking important that they couldn’t at least say goodbye first? And how early did they run off? The alarm clock on the nightstand said 7:13 a.m. Barely past dawn.

Was it police business? That perhaps explained Dale and Sebastian, but I highly doubted Mike could fall back on the same excuse.

Did they expect me to hang around waiting for them? Then again, given my past history with guys, this was more likely a case of “thank you, get out.”

They’d gotten their pound of flesh—and I’d gotten several poundings of flesh—and no big surprise, they vanished by morning.

Except, in this case, I was in their bed, not mine, when they snuck out.

Even worse, I didn’t have my wheels with me because they’d brought me here.

Ugh.

Getting dressed, I noticed my purse missing. I found my shoes, though, by the front door, but still no purse. What I did have was my phone, still tucked in a pocket. Good thing I had an Uber app that didn’t require cash.

About ten minutes later—having devoured the leftover carton of Kentucky Fried chicken left in the fridge—my ride arrived. About to open the door to do the walk of shame to the blue Prius idling at the curb, I noticed a pair of guys getting out of a car across the road and talking to my Uber driver.

Babysitters? Or something else?

I’d not forgotten the warning that the wizards might want to fry me, or turn me into a frog. Since green wasn’t my color, it occurred to me that, perhaps, I should use a different exit.

The back door led to a yard with a fence. As if that would stand in my way. A chair to boost me and over I went, landing in a tomato patch. Splat.

Cursing about the wet red spot on my pants—not a first because my periods had it out for me—I trudged through that yard and two more before I dared head back toward the street. I rebooked my Uber, and he arrived a moment later, waving his hands and ranting, probably about the fact that I’d sent him to the wrong address first.

“Oh, can it, you’ll get paid,” I snapped.

The driver didn’t speak much English, which was good because I wasn’t in the mood to chat.

Shocking, I know, but I felt kind of let down. After the intense passion, stupid me thought it meant something. I don’t know why I expected things would be different. Experience had taught me I just didn’t have that captivating quality other girls did when it came to keeping guys.

Maybe I sucked at sex.

Maybe I screamed wrong when I came.

Did I fart and not notice it when all my muscles relaxed? Surely, there was a reason I couldn’t keep a man.

Meemaw thought I was perfect. Why didn’t anyone else?

I really wished I could call her and vent. She’d totally listen and then tell me to kick them in the balls if they didn’t know what kind of treasure I was.

But Meemaw was still on her cruise and unreachable by phone.

Sigh. And I didn’t want to burden Chloe with my sad tale of being a loser.

Initially, I meant to go home, get changed, and maybe make it into work—eventually. But how would I get to work? Since my truck wasn’t in Dale’s driveway, then that meant my baby was still at the Peabodys’ place. Just to be sure, I checked my GPS tracker.

The day I’d bought Big Blue, I had her tagged before she even left the car lot.

The Uber fellow dropped me off in front of the Peabody place, and I gasped to see how much it had changed overnight.

The day, while overcast, couldn’t entirely account for the dark pall hanging over the house. All the grass appeared dead now. Not a single trace of color remained on any of the foliage.

Despite being in suburbia, the silence was deafening. I strained to hear a single lawnmower or barking dog. Even the buzz of a bee or a slamming car door.

Unbroken quiet.

Very eerie. Very cool.

The front door of the house held a few crisscrossing bands of yellow police tape.

Do Not Enter.

Um, might as well hold up a neon sign screaming, come check me out.

Dale hadn’t let me inside the day before. Stupid, overprotective jerk. My heart warmed and pitter-pattered a little faster.

Then I remembered the note they’d left me.

Later. What did that mean? Was it over? Would I see them again? I didn’t want to be that desperate chick who called them asking.

Despite Big Blue sitting on the curb, waiting for my loving touch, I found myself heading toward the house.

The vacant house. Mrs. Peabody and the kids were missing. Gone according to the news app I’d read on the way over.

The police had no clues or suspects. I guess the super wizard dudes didn’t want to admit ghosts or something might be getting rid of people. Or was it the house eating them? We never did find that priest.

The last time I’d visited, I’d not gotten any ominous vibes off the place. Now, however, it looked rather sad and lonely.

A poor house that had lost its family.

All it wanted was someone to live inside. Someone to fill its rooms with smiles and laughter.

That person could be me. I could love the house.

My hand turned the knob, and to my surprise, it opened. Careless of the cops to leave it unlocked.

Surely, it was a sign I should go in.

Yes, go in. There’s nothing wrong with this house.

The door opened on silent hinges, and I expelled a sharp breath at what I saw inside.

What happened to the lovely home I’d visited a few days ago? Was this even the same place?

I stepped inside the decrepit interior and gaped. Where had the freshly painted walls and gleaming floors gone? This place looked like an entire generation had passed since its last update.

My fingers trailed over the wall, feeling the dampness, the dust. I stopped at the picture frame. The image within seemed familiar.

Because I’d seen it before when I’d visited with Mrs. Peabody. However, the barfing and other things had made me forget, forget that the woman in the picture looked nothing like the Mrs. Peabody I’d had coffee and cookies with.

The woman in the picture looked like the one in the file. A mother and wife married to a dowdy shoe salesman. So who then was the woman I’d met?

What happened here? Perhaps Dale was right. I swam out of my depth. A simple human girl, I should stick to what I knew.

Don’t go. Stay.

I frowned. It sounded like my inner voice. Came from inside my head, but…

Who the fuck is talking to me?

And what possessed me—pun totally intended—to come inside? Did I want to become Spinerella’s twin?

I turned around ready to march out, but the front door slammed shut.

A cool wind whistled past, floating strands of my hair, pimpling my flesh.

The creak of a floorboard from behind had me whirling.

The woman who’d fed me the nasty cookies stood there, the only spot of vibrant life, the red spark in her eyes bright.

“Well, hello there, Brenda. So nice of you to come and visit.”

“Who are you?” I asked. “And don’t say Mrs. Peabody.” I jabbed my finger at the frame. “That’s Mrs. Peabody.”

A laugh bubbled from her, deeper than expected, rich with mirth, the kind that dragged nails down your spine and somehow made a sound. “But I am Mrs. Peabody. The new and improved version.”

“You possessed her.”

“How else was I to stay in this world? My body wasn’t made for this space.” Her nose wrinkled. “Now, it is.” She stroked her hands down her body, her hands skimming the curves showcased in her hugging knit dress.

“What about the kids?”

Her lips curved into a secretive smile. “They have new owners, too. And so shall you shortly.”

“No, thank you.” I whirled for the door, only to have an invisible fist grab me and turn me back around.

“Leaving so soon?” Said in a taunting lilt. “Won’t you stay for a while?”

“I’d rather not. I’m expected elsewhere.”

“I’m afraid you won’t make that meeting.” She took a step toward me. “You’re not going anywhere, Brenda. Not when you smell so good.”

Again with the food thing.

I, Brenda Whittaker, am not a meal.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Wolves could dine all they liked on the Brenda buffet. Demons, no. I had to draw the line somewhere.

Grabbing the picture from the wall, I threw it at the Peabody body snatcher and ran for the door. At least, that was my plan.

But the floor abruptly crumbled, leaving me teetering on the edge, and I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my balance.

And that was when the house swallowed me.