Excerpt: Magical Midlife Invasion

Chapter 1

“The early spring is really helping, Jessie. Yes, I think the grounds will make a full recovery.” Edgar hooked his long thumbs, complete with out-of-control nails, into the band of his bright purple sweatpants.

Mr. Tom, the butler/property manager/misguided life coach, had finally gotten tired of buying bleach and changed the color of our house sweats from white to purple, an ode to my gargoyle form, and also a color that didn’t show bloodstains as well. Why Edgar needed sweats at all was beyond me. He rarely changed form, and even when he did, he became a swarm of insects and his clothes magically changed with him. But I’d learned the hard way not to question the logic of the original Ivy House team. Their answers were likely to give you brain bubbles.

I surveyed the colorful blooming flowers from my position at the back corner of the yard. They were everywhere—crowding the side of the house, pushing up to the edges of the vivid green grass, lining the hedge maze Edgar kept insisting I wander into for a few hours of “fun,” and now popping up between the trees at the edge of the woods. I knew there were just as many flowers on the other side of the house and scores of them swarming the front. Even if he hadn’t insisted I take a tour with him to check out the grounds, the sheer volume was hard to miss.

“Yes, they are really coming along.” I nodded dutifully, then chose my next words carefully. Edgar didn’t take criticism well. A couple of months ago he’d let a dangerous person onto the grounds unwittingly, and now he kept suggesting that I retire him every time he made a tiny misstep. Retirement for a vampire was death. The guy kept trying to get me to kill him. “Did you buy out the flower store, or…”

“Oh no, Jessie, don’t be silly. I don’t buy flowers—I grow them. I did buy out their seeds, though. I wanted to make sure I had enough.”

I nearly made the mistake of mentioning the basajaun, the violent, long-winded, hairy creature who’d helped me escape a group of mages in exchange for access to Edgar’s precious flowerbeds. He’d wiped them out, and Edgar had not taken it well. Clearly he worried the situation wouldn’t be a one-time deal.

“Ah. I think you do. Have enough, that is,” I said.

“Yes, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” He pulled his thumbs out from the band of his sweats and clasped them behind his back. “I wanted to work on my preparedness. You know, prevent another goldfish situation.” He hung his head a little.

“The goldfish was depressed anyway, Edgar…probably, and no one blames you for accidentally killing it. Granted, yes, when you were changing the water, you probably should’ve known to take the fish out of the sink before pulling up the drain stopper, but mistakes happen. You didn’t need to get me the fish in the first place.” Sometimes it wasn’t easy to keep from criticizing.

“Well, be that as it may…” He paused, his eyes drifting across the many types and colors of flowers, seemingly planted with no rhyme or reason as to overall yard design. “I’m not one to point fingers, and I am a firm believer in innocent until proven guilty, but I wonder…” He ran a fang across his bottom lip. He’d stopped retracting them altogether. We had no idea why, but I’d had to forbid him from going into town where non-magical people might see him and freak out. If they didn’t believe in vampires before seeing him, they’d be forced to change their tune. “I’ve noticed a few…discrepancies in my flower design.”

Ah. So he had been thinking about design, he was just bad at it.

“What kind of discrepancies?” I asked as I felt a familiar foot step down on the walkway leading to Ivy House’s front door.

It was Austin, the enormous, vicious polar bear shifter who’d recently accepted the number one position on the Ivy House council. He’d also finally staked his claim as alpha of our immediate town and two of those surrounding us, a job he’d been doing without the credit for years. He’d only held the new post for a matter of months, and already crime was down by seventy-five percent in the new towns he had a presence in. No one wanted to mess with him, which made me that much happier he was on my side.

“Well…” Edgar bent a little at the waist, clearly uncomfortable.

Austin’s path changed; he was now coming around the house, headed for me. Maybe he was beginning to feel people’s positions on Ivy House’s property, something everyone else with Ivy House magic could do.

Butterflies danced in my stomach a little, the sensation followed by a burst of guilt. Ivy House had given Austin the ability to draw my magic out, something he was excellent at, given his natural talent for coaxing out the best in people, and my magic had been increasing in leaps and bounds. So the little joke I’d pulled on him yesterday—using my new ability for explosions to create a small blast next to him—had launched him over the treetops instead of just making him jump liked I’d hoped. A snap of power had turned into a gush of it, and poor Austin had paid the price.

He hadn’t even acted mad. Of course, he’d also changed really quickly into his polar bear and just lain down, waiting for me to heal him. And even if he was mad, polar bears couldn’t talk. Probably for the best. The whole situation had been grisly.

“The thing is, it seems like someone is…taking the flower tops.” Edgar crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his lips with the aggressively long nail on his pointer finger. “It could be a deer, I suppose, because they do like flowers, but normal deer don’t tend to like magically treated flowers.” Edgar spotted Austin coming toward us and his eyes lit up. “Well, look at that, will you? The town’s alpha is coming to visit us. Aren’t we lucky?”

“He’s part of the Ivy House team, Edgar, you know this.”

“Yes, I know, but in the vampire clan I was never promoted high enough to meet important and influential people. I thought I’d die at this job before another heir was chosen. Until you come to your senses and retire me as you ought to, I will continue to bask in my good fortune.”

I rolled my eyes, then couldn’t help but smile as Austin drew near, his cobalt eyes shimmering with good nature and his movements easy and graceful, somewhat hiding his contained, explosive power.

“Hey,” I said, eyeing his white T-shirt, stretched across his shoulders and chest, defining his pecs before draping down his flat stomach. His snug jeans showed off powerful, robust thighs. No burned skin marred his muscular arms, thank God. I mean, I was a good healer at this point (I had to be), but still, that little joke had gone way overboard. “No house sweats today?”

His eyebrows rose in humorous distaste, but he didn’t comment, probably since Edgar was currently wearing them. It was no secret that Austin did not love the color change.

He stopped next to me. “I came to ask if you would help me with something this afternoon.”

“Yeah, sure, I just need to finish this walk around with Edgar. There’s a pressing matter that requires my undivided and urgent attention.” I smiled in jest.

“Oh no, Jessie, it isn’t that serious. Well…you know…unless it is theft, in which case…” Edgar put out his hands. “I’m no jury, but…”

The humor dripped out of Austin’s expression. “Theft?”

“Edgar was speaking to me about the flowers. Don’t they look great? In just a couple of months, he has replaced everything the basajaun ate.” I lifted my hand like Vanna White might’ve.

“There are way too many,” Austin said, not at all worried about criticizing the vampire. Which was well and good for him—Edgar had never asked Austin to kill him, to my knowledge.

“Yes, well, there were a lot of them,” Edgar said, bending again.

      Austin cocked his head, surveying the property. “It looks like Ivy House is a flower farm for funeral homes…”

I elbowed him. “Or weddings and birthdays. Very cheery.”

“It’s just…” Edgar paused for a moment. “At the outskirts of the yard, where the flowers tuck into the wood, something has been eating the flower heads and tops of the stems.”

“Deer?” Austin asked.

Edgar turned a beaming smile Austin’s way, replete with multicolored fangs. The whitening strips I’d recommended he use had a hard time counteracting the habitual consumption of blood. “Great minds! I did mention it could be deer. Except deer don’t typically enjoy magically treated flowers.”

“That’s right, you cheat to win your flower festivals,” Austin murmured.

I stifled a laugh. Edgar used a magical serum to ensure the flowers grew beautifully regardless of the time of year, which meant he always won the county home and garden festivals against the non-magical competition. He maintained that anyone could use the special serum, but of course Dicks and Janes had no knowledge of the serum. Most of them looked down on Agnes’s New Age vibe.

“I haven’t had any reports of the basajaun being in town lately,” Austin said.

“Ah.” I shook my head and grinned. “Duh. I hadn’t pieced together he was talking about the basajaun.”

“Well, you know, I wouldn’t want to call an innocent creature down, so you can understand my hesitation to name names,” Edgar said, waving his hands in front of him. “But he does love my flowers. That was entirely evident in how thoroughly he ransacked them from the house…”

“I don’t think it’s the basajaun.” I slipped my hands into my jeans pockets. “I didn’t give him unlimited access to the grounds, and he has a very firm code of ethics when it comes to trades. He wouldn’t encroach on my territory without speaking to me first.”

“So you didn’t tell the basajaun he could happen by and have a snack whenever he’s in town?” Edgar asked tentatively.

“No. And like Austin said, no one has seen him. He’s up on his mountain, probably scaring hikers. It is highly unlikely that he is your flower thief. Besides, he’s nine feet tall and super thick—a snack for him is a lot more than a few flowers. It’s probably just a deer with deficient taste buds or something.”

“Yes, you’re right. I just worried…” He sighed in relief. “It would’ve been fine, of course. This is your house and your yard and, by default, your flowers. I just champion for the grounds. And I did put in that row near the wood to hopefully slow him down so I could try to reserve my future prizewinners, but I wanted to nip the situation in the bud…” He lifted his eyebrows and chuckled. “Get it? Because we’re talking about flowers?” Austin turned to look at him with a blank stare. “Anyway, I was hoping to put some parameters on the feeding frenzy. If it had been him, of course. I wasn’t accusing him, just wondering, that’s all.”

I stopped myself from laughing. “If I trade for flowers again, Edgar, you’ll be in on the negotiations this time.”

“Oh, good. Yes, that’s comforting.” He put his hand out. “I remain your humble servant, of course, merely in charge of growing your flowers, not ruling them.”

Austin continued to stare, no expression. It was the look he favored when dealing with Edgar. Laughter slipped out of me.

“If you do strike another bargain, I’ll put together a nice little buffet for him,” Edgar went on. “I have some real delectable treats. I’d love to plan his courses, even.” He steepled his hands against his lips and bowed his head. “If I might be allowed.”

Austin shook himself out of the moment. “I’ll wait for you out front,” he said to me.

I laughed harder and put my hand against his popping bicep. “No, it’s fine. We’re done. Right, Edgar? There was nothing else?”

“That was it. I just wanted to get my ducks in a row. I’ll go ahead and make up a concoction to kill those deer—”

“Wait, what?” I pulled my hand away from Austin. “No, Edgar, you can’t kill the deer! Use a spray or something to keep them away.”

“Oh no, Jessie, if a rogue deer has developed a taste for my flowers, that’s the end of it. They’re a real pest. It’s like a drug to them. That’s why I was a little concerned about that basajaun. I don’t want to be immodest, but I am the lawn and gardens county winner at the home and garden festival every year. Killing it is the only way.”

My mouth dropped open. “No. You cannot… I thought you said deer don’t even typically like magical flowers?”

“They usually don’t, no, but every once in a while… You’ve heard of man-eating lions, haven’t you?” He tilted his head at me as if to denote there was a very real, very detrimental connection between the two phenomena. Austin was back to staring. “Once they get a taste for human flesh, that’s all they want. Same with those deer and my flowers. It’s safer to just put them down.”

“Don’t kill the deer,” Austin said, and a whip crack of power infused his words, the alpha in him demanding obedience.

Edgar’s jaw snapped shut. He bowed under Austin’s hard stare. “Yes, alpha. But please realize that I cannot be held responsible for the creatures constantly loitering around like groupies. I wash my hands of this.”

A silent beat followed, in which Austin and I stood staring at each other in the lovely March sunlight. Winter had been cold and sometimes harsh, compared to what I was used to in L.A., but it had rolled away pretty quickly, giving way to sunshine and the sea of flowers around us.

“Okay then.” I nodded, turned, and strode for the front of the house. There really wasn’t much more to say and do in this situation. Gotta stay away from those brain bubbles.

“I think he has gotten weirder,” Austin murmured as he caught up. “Man-eating lions and deer hanging around like groupies? What is he talking about?”

“Best not to question for too long. And it might not even be deer.”

Austin shook his head as we made our way to the front yard. Niamh sat on her porch across the way, rocking in her chair next to the pile of rocks she kept on hand in case a tourist happened to wander down the street to look at Ivy House. That poor tourist would quickly learn what an amazing shot Niamh was with those rocks.

“He really has gone overboard with the flower production.” Austin glanced at the flowers lining the little walkway that cut close to the house in the front before joining up with the main walkway to the front porch. “The smell is overwhelming.”

“Yeah. I need to have Mr. Tom talk Edgar back a bit.”

“Why didn’t you just mention something back there?”

“Every time he messes up, he asks me to kill him. I don’t want to send him into another existential crisis.”

“Jesus,” Austin murmured, and his tone made giggles dance up through me.

“Anyway, what do you need?”

He stopped on the porch and looked out over the street, the late afternoon sun trickling down through the maple trees and speckling the sidewalk. “Do you have a couple of hours?”

“A couple of hours?” I checked my watch, three o’clock, then looked back at the closed front door. “Well, given I have no job other than learning magic and monitoring the gardening of a partially insane vampire, I do happen to have some free time, yes. Especially since we agreed to take a couple of days off from training so you can heal.” I chewed on my lip, guilt worming through me again. “How are you doing, by the way?”

He waved the question away. “There is nothing partial about that vampire’s insanity.” Austin jerked his head toward the house. “Do you need to tell your entourage?”

“Will we be in town?”

“Yes.”

“Then nah, I’m good with just you and whatever shifters of yours pop out of the woodwork. Let’s see if they can find me.”

“I don’t have anyone official yet.” He reached out to put his hand on the small of my back, ready to direct me. “But yeah, we’ll be good.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Mr. Tom, his tuxedo-clad chest puffed out, his pants freshly pressed, and his wings falling down his back like a cape. One hand balanced a silver tray bearing a single white envelope, and the other was fisted by his side.

“Miss. Before you leave without proper protection, putting yourself in potentially grave danger, I have a piece of post for you,” he said.

My expression flattened. I felt it. “Were you listening to our conversation at the door, Mr. Tom?”

“From the front room window, actually. It is the easiest way to know what you are up to without having to ask.”

Austin was staring again. I had a feeling this was not the way he planned to run his pack.

“I’ll grab it when I get back.” I motioned Austin down the walkway.

“I think you’ll want to read it, miss. It’s from your mother. She wants to come visit.”

I froze, only one step having been taken. “What do you mean she wants to come visit? How— Did you read my mail?”

“What an amazing singing range you must have, miss, with the vocal pitch of that last question.” Mr. Tom sniffed. “I merely scanned the contents to ensure it was not a death threat. After that note from Elliot Graves, I thought it best to start monitoring your mail to ensure none of the messages posed an immediate danger. Magical people can be unhinged…”

“He would know,” Austin murmured.

“I also feared a bill or request for money might arrive and go ignored. Sometimes our past lives can come back to haunt us. Since you seem pretty hands-off about monetary matters…”

I dropped my mouth open, about to explode. Hands-off? I always tried to pay for things, but whenever Mr. Tom was around, and he was always around, he would literally push me aside in his haste to take care of the tab. I had no idea what kind of money was available to the estate because he refused to show me any statements or give me access to the bank accounts that were now supposedly mine, simply telling me the estate paid for itself. I wasn’t sure what sort of hands-on approach would get me any further.

I swallowed down my annoyance and reached for the envelope. I didn’t feel like getting into it with him in front of Austin. “No, Mr. Tom, I don’t have any creditors looking to get paid,” I said dryly.

“Fantastic, miss. But you do have two parents who wish to see what you are up to. I shall roll out the red carpet.”

I’d barely lifted the letter from the tray when he turned back into the house and closed the door behind him, not responding to my shouted denial that they were coming.

“Oh, and miss…” Mr. Tom stuck his head out of the door again. “They’ll be staying a week, or maybe two. Their toilet broke and flooded part of the house. Your mother launched into a rant about the lack of fiber in your father’s diet, but you can read that yourself. They are scheduled to get here in three days’ time. I’ll pick up the essentials. Have fun. I’ll alert those on bodyguard detail that you’re leaving.”

The door closed again with a soft click.

My parents were coming.

My non-magical parents were coming to a magical house.

How the hell was I supposed to keep what I was a secret?

***

Chapter 2

“Do your parents usually write letters to communicate instead of calling?” Austin asked as we set out toward town.

I’d skimmed the letter, shaken my head at the detailed fiber assessment, and stuffed it into my back pocket. Mr. Tom had gotten the details correct. They were definitely coming. The letter had been more of a statement of intent than a request.

“Here…” Niamh sat forward in her porch rocking chair as we passed, her thumb and forefinger curled around a rock. “What are ye at?”

“Headed into town,” Austin called.

She leaned back and continued rocking. “Let me know when ye head to the bar.”

The prospect of my parents’ upcoming visit had sent my thoughts into a downward spiral, and when I turned and looked back at Ivy House, I tried to see it as they would. An unnatural, heavy shadow fell over the massive structure, just like always, and light perpetually glowed from the top window in the attic even though that light was never on. Before my parents even got to the house, the judgments would start. I could just hear them now.

“Honey, why did you choose such a gloomy house?” my mother would ask, looking up at it.

“It’s fine,” my father would say. “The paint is the problem. You need a new coat of paint, Jessie. Maybe an off-white. You should’ve stained it, but that ship has sailed.”

“Paint wouldn’t do it, Pete. It’s just so…dark…” my mom would reply.

That would start them arguing about the best way to fix what wasn’t actually broken. As if they didn’t live in a house of horrors filled with dozens of unfinished projects, including a partial coat of turd-brown paint near the stairs.

“They do write letters instead of calling, yes,” I said, belatedly remembering that Austin had asked a question. “But only when they want to make it impossible for me to turn them down. My mom typically times it so the letter arrives the day before they do. If I try to cancel, she gives me a guilt trip about how she’s already planned her whole life around this thing, and if I couldn’t do it, why did I wait until the last minute to let her know? The whole situation used to drive Matt nuts. Matt’s the ex.”

He nodded, clearly remembering the name. “Not you?”

“Obviously it drives me nuts, yeah. But, I mean…they’re my parents. What am I supposed to do? When I need something, I can always count on them.”

“Do Matt’s parents not have any idiosyncrasies?”

“They do, but he didn’t seem too put out by them. I was, absolutely, but not him. They’re these really WASP-y socialites, so they had parties and dinners and things where I’d have to bring homemade dishes that were up to their standards, dress a certain way, and when it was our turn to host?” I shivered just thinking about it. “There were a lot of rules. Keeping up with the Joneses type of stuff. It got exhausting.”

“Your parents aren’t like that?”

I snorted. “Matt’s parents could barely tolerate my family. My mom would show up to one of their fancy cocktail parties wearing some sort of Mary Poppins carpet dress. You know, like the material Mary Poppins’s bag was made out of? That, but fashioned into a dress. My dad would wear jeans, cowboy boots, and one of those cowboy blazers with patches on the elbows. This in a room full of fancy cocktail dresses and high-powered Armani suits. They did not fit in.”

Austin chuckled as we reached the end of the street. “Your parents will fit in around here, at least.”

A wave of anxiety washed over me, the familiar urge to run home and clean everything almost overwhelming. I needed to get the beer they liked, the snacks they had to have—

“A TV!” I grabbed Austin’s arm and stopped at the corner. Confusion stole over his expression. “I need a TV! And cable! My father cannot live without his TV.”

A grin pulled at his lush lips, enhancing his attractiveness. My stomach flipped. The guy was a looker, there were no two ways about it. It got distracting at times.

“I have a TV you can use,” he said. “I’ll bring it by later.”

I started walking again. “I can just have Mr. Tom go out and buy one. He’ll bitch, but…”

“This way…” He pointed right, to a street before the main drag.

“Why are they visiting?” I mumbled. “I mean, I know why they are visiting—they have to get out of the house and they have no choice, but why me? Why not Chris?”

“Who’s Chris?” Austin asked.

“My brother.” I bit my lip. “They probably didn’t want to fly. Dang it, I should’ve chosen another house, much farther away.”

“Are they a nightmare, or…”

An older man and woman I’d seen around town walked toward us on the sidewalk, out for a stroll. Austin’s arm came around me and his hand touched down on the indent of my waist, right above the swell of my hip. His heat soaked through my shirt and into my skin. A zip of electricity coursed through my body, followed by a rush of adrenaline. I shivered as he applied pressure, directing me in front of him on the sidewalk to let the others pass.

The man and woman both nodded in hello. “Alpha,” they said, one after the other. “Jessie.” Their smiles were so wide that their eyes crinkled.

“I don’t remember meeting them,” I whispered as Austin’s hand drifted away, taking the heat with it. I shivered again at the sudden chill in its wake.

“Everyone around here knows who you are. The magical people, anyway. Magical people keep their eyes on dangerous things.”

My face heated and I wanted to come up with an offhanded remark to deflect being called dangerous, but the news about my parents had put me off my game.

“Have you had to fight anyone to retain your alpha title?” I asked as a distraction, coming up on a dentist’s office.

“No one I wouldn’t have had to subdue anyway. Outsiders with too much liquor trying to stir up trouble.”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty standard fare for a bar.”

“Not my bar.” He motioned for me to cross the street, then directed me through a little alley between two businesses run out of converted houses. No dumpsters loitered along the way, and there was no trash blowing across the ground like urban tumbleweeds. This town, small and cute and clean, was nothing like the haunts I’d gotten used to in L.A. The change of pace was nice. I hoped my parents wouldn’t bitch that it was boring. You just never knew with them.

Halfway through the alley, the space opened up, showing the rear of a business situated on the main drag. I spied Jasper at the street corner. Gargoyles could blend into their environment, especially if the surfaces contained stone or rock, rendering themselves invisible, but I’d learned how to magically strip away their camouflage. So I could see Jasper’s deep gray gargoyle form, threaded through with tan and brown. He was one of three gargoyles who lived in Ivy House—a strong and silent type who’d proven excellent at guarding my back while keeping just enough distance to allow me my privacy.

It was more than I could say for the small collection of gargoyles who’d become long-term guests at a hotel in town. Around a dozen of them had answered my magical summons, but I’d already gotten rid of the guys obviously not cut out for the role, and one guy had left of his own accord. He couldn’t handle Niamh picking on him for his lack of hygiene. The remaining six were still auditioning for permanent roles in Ivy House.

Jasper nodded at me in greeting, glanced at Austin, and then turned back to the street. He would guard our front, trusting Austin to guard the rear.

“Jasper found us,” I told Austin, slowing with him.

“I know. I smelled him.” Austin led the way into what was essentially a small business’s backyard. He checked out the dumpster positioned against the fence on the far side, separating this space with the business next door. A pile of empty wine boxes, and a wine barrel standing on end, sat near a set of three steps leading to a back door. Obviously this was the back of a tasting room, this area of the world being big on wine.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, clasping my hands behind my back and watching his movements, my gaze only occasionally snagging on the play of muscle across his back and his tight, well-shaped butt. I was getting better at not staring.

“The actual winemaking for this winery happens at their country estate, about half an hour away. They grow most of the grapes they use.”

“All of the wineries in town make the actual wines elsewhere.” I tilted my head to read the name on the side of one of the boxes, very familiar with the wineries in town. I grimaced. This one wasn’t great.

“There isn’t much room back here for a gathering of any kind.”

I frowned at the small space, the gravel crunching under my feet and a dark stain near the dumpster making my nose curl. “It isn’t a place I’d like to hang out even if there was space.”

“What if it were spruced up a little?” He stopped in the center and put out his hands, then squinted up at the sky, getting a full dose of sun on his face. “A few people could hang out back here.”

“Next to the dumpster? Are you planning a party or something? Why not just have it in your bar?”

He lowered his face and hands, gave the space another look, and then motioned me toward the front, the busiest strip of businesses in the town. A woman in her twenties caught sight of me emerging from around the corner. When she noticed Austin behind me, her face turned red and delighted surprise flashed in her eyes.

“Hi, alpha,” she gushed.

“Alpha.” A man behind the woman nodded before stepping into the street around her, avoiding the temporary traffic jam.

“Alpha,” someone said across the street, putting up his hand to wave.

Austin ignored them all, staring straight ahead and resting a hand on the small of my back. “Just here, Jess.”

He directed me up the stairs before reaching around me to grab the door handle.

“It always weirds me out when you don’t acknowledge the people saying hi to you,” I murmured, entering the tasting room. “Are we day drinking? Because with the news that my parents are coming, I could definitely get behind that. I’d prefer a different winery, though.”

“They’re acknowledging me to show respect for my position, and if I reciprocated, I’d do nothing but greet people whenever I went into town.”

“What do Janes and Dicks think of people calling you alpha?”

“I don’t care. What do you think of this setup?” He gestured around the spacious tasting room, sparse in furniture and plentiful in dead space.

I huffed out a laugh at his response before glancing around. I’d been here before, but I hadn’t paid much attention.

“What are they expecting, huge crowds to pack in here?” I whispered, knowing someone would pop out to wait on us at any moment.

He didn’t control his volume. “In the busy season, there are enough tourists to fill the place, but I’ve heard it doesn’t typically happen.” He didn’t move toward the counter.

I didn’t wait for him. “Right. So why all the space? Why not add in a few high tables without chairs and maybe a little display area to sell wine paraphernalia? Is this place even open? Where’s the pourer?”

“Hmm.” Austin finally joined me, leaning against the counter as a woman with a pinched face and an air of smug importance drifted up to the counter. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her failure to recognize or acknowledge Austin meant she was probably new to the area. Even non-magical people knew the scary, standoffish bar owner of the Paddy Wagon.

“Welcome.” She laid her hand, her pink nails perfectly rounded, on a cream-colored piece of paper to my right. Several similar menus lay across the stretch of counter. “We have two options for tastings. The regular flight, where you can choose five wines, is ten dollars, and the reserve tasting is fifteen dollars. If you buy two bottles or more, the tasting fee is waived. Which would you prefer?”

I glanced at Austin. “What’s happening here? Are we doing a wine tour? Because if this is your way of getting me out of meetings with Edgar, then we just became best friends.”

He smiled, pulling one of the papers closer. “It’s up to you. What do you want, the reserve tasting? One of each?”

I nodded at the woman. “One of each. If we’re going to do this thing, we’ll do it right.”

Her deadpan stare said she didn’t appreciate my nonchalant humor. “Would you like to start with white?”

As Austin looked on, I chose a wine from each list. She sniffed and turned to grab the bottles from the coolers at the far right.

“Out of all the winery options, you chose this one, huh?” I asked, tapping my fingers against the counter. “Oh, this town carries Pabst Blue Ribbon, doesn’t it? My father likes Pabst. If I don’t have it, he’ll just send my mom looking for it.”

“Of all the tasting rooms on this strip, this one gets the least foot traffic,” Austin said as the woman screwed off a cap. The other had a cork, and she set to work. “The tasting room is upscale, though, and the operations at the winery look good.”

“You’ve been to the winery? Are you sizing up your competition or something?”

“No. I’m looking to buy it.”

The needle screeched off the spinning record in my mind. “What’s that now?”

Glasses clinked as the woman placed them in front of us. She explained the wines as she poured, but I wasn’t listening.

“You’re thinking of buying a winery?” I whispered as soon as she drifted away.

“Yes.” He swirled the contents in his glass and lifted it to sip. I watched his lips press against the glass, my mind struggling to compute the enormity of what he was saying versus the easy, unconcerned quality of his tone.

“How do you have that kind of money? I mean…” I blinked a couple of times and shook my head. “Sorry, that was rude, but… To buy a winery, you’re talking millions. Right?”

His face scrunched up. He held out the glass for me. “It’s tart.”

I took it without comment and sipped, not prepared.

“Oh, man.” I lowered the glass to the counter, my right eye shutting of its own volition and my mouth puckering at the sourness. “That wine is intense, and not in a drinkable sort of way.”

“I’m from a long line of alphas,” he said, as though that explained something.

I lifted my glass and swirled good and proper, running the liquid around the glass to get as much oxygen in there as possible. It would help the flavor, and this place needed all the help it could get. I didn’t remember it being this bad. Or maybe it was just the pick I’d made for Austin. I raised the glass and took a cautious sip.

“Ugh.” I coughed a bit as my face twisted involuntarily. “It wasn’t just the first one. This one is intense, too.” I pushed the glass his way. “What does being from a line of alphas have to do with buying a winery?”

“Can we have the next samples, please?” Austin asked the woman, and though the phrase seemed like a polite request, his tone conveyed a command for obedience. He pointed to the ones he wanted, two reds. The woman’s previous methodical, unhurried gliding fell away, and she quickly got to work opening the next bottles.

“I’m assuming you don’t care what ends up in your glass?” he asked me, his voice back to calm and breezy.

“I do, but in this case I’m not sure it’ll really matter.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t remember the wine being this bad.”

“I think that’s the root of the problem, right there.” He nodded and glanced out the window at the shining day beyond, as though contemplating the meaning of the universe.

“Also, should we be saying ‘alpha’ in public? I know you don’t care, but…”

He turned back to me. “To properly run a territory, an alpha needs to invest in local businesses, to have a personal say and stake in the local economy. To help sway the decisions that are made for the benefit of the people. If the territory prospers, the alpha typically prospers. If the territory suffers, so does the alpha. Does that make sense? And yes, we can say ‘alpha’ and ‘territory’ because those are words that Janes and Dicks know, even if they don’t quite understand them in the way we’re using them.”

“So you’re from a long line of prosperous alphas?” I surmised, eyeing the glass of red now sitting in front of me. I wasn’t so sure about day drinking at this establishment. It might be more painful than pleasurable.

“That’ll be all for now,” Austin told the woman as she opened her mouth to give her spiel about the wines. Under his steady gaze, her eyes tightened, creasing at the corners.

“Of course.” She turned, busying herself with wiping down dustless bottles.

“Maybe lighten up a little,” I murmured, swirling the contents of the glass. “You’re going to give the woman a complex.”

“If it pleases milady.”

His tone was light and teasing, his eyes sparkling and bright. I couldn’t look away, my heart speeding up at the raw intensity I saw lurking just beneath the surface. The world around us seemed to slow, and then it dropped away entirely—his focus applied solely to me, and mine to him. Heat blistered through me before pooling down low, pounding. Aching. Manifesting from those suddenly intense, beautiful cobalt-blue eyes.

“I never did take you on that perfect date we talked about,” he said softly, his sweet breath dusting my lashes.

Only then did I realize I’d leaned toward him. I found myself remembering the feel of his palm on my side. On my back. I loved the way he always gently steered me into the path of safety when we walked somewhere together. I loved that he was always respectfully aware of me and the world around me. It felt like being pampered for some reason. Like he was freeing me from all of life’s little trials.

“Okay, then.” I let out a deep breath and tore my gaze away from his. With effort, I turned to face my glass. “Yup.” I was just saying words to fill the silence. It wasn’t even an uncomfortable silence, which somehow made things worse. This guy needed to come with an emergency brake.

I probably needed to start dating again. Sure, I hadn’t sealed the deal with the handsome gargoyle who’d spent a short time at Ivy House, but that didn’t mean I should stop trying. I needed to end the dry spell before I embarrassed myself and leaned any closer to Austin.

“Drunk already?” I heard the laughter in his words.

“You’re as bad as Niamh. I’ve had, like, two sips. No, I am not drunk already.”

“So you’ve just taken to voicing your thoughts on the regular now?”

I froze, my eyes wide. “What? Why?” I asked, flustered. “What did I say?”

His dark chuckle brought on a rush of embarrassment that likely showed on my face. I’d clearly voiced the bit about the dry spell. Dang Ivy House for having a personality and seeming like a real person—I constantly talked to her, out loud, and clearly the practice had carried over into the parts of my life where I’d do better to keep my thoughts and feelings bottled up.

Not that I hadn’t always had a propensity to think out loud, but I usually had a better grip on myself when in public.

“I am from a long line of prosperous alphas, yes. On my mother’s side,” he said, then tried his newest pour of wine, wincing with the effort. “I’m a trust fund baby at this point, since I’ve done very little for myself. So far. The money’s been sitting there, collecting interest, waiting for me to rise to my potential.”

“What if you never did?”

“My brother’s kids will get everything when I die. If I don’t use it, they’ll be set for life, even if something happens to my brother’s territory. If I can create and run a prosperous territory, they’ll get even more. Can’t lose.”

“Oh cra—” I’d taken a sip of the new wine while he was talking, the taste of this one setting off a party of awful in my mouth. I swung the glass his way, not wanting to suffer alone. “So now that you’ve claimed your title, you’re going to buy up some businesses?”

“Yes. It’s time for me to invest in the territory. I’ll also need to help more of our kind obtain seats of power. I need to build a pack from scratch. It would’ve been easier to move into a place already structured for our kind.” He shrugged. “I wanted a challenge—I got it.”

We received our next pours, and I eyed them dubiously. “Can I be in your pack? I promise I won’t bring Mr. Tom.”

When the silence stretched, I glanced over, only to be caught in his gravity and intensity. Desire moved within his gaze, unfurling a luscious and luxurious and horribly uncomfortable feeling within me. This wasn’t good. He was supposed to be off-limits. Permanently friend-zoned. Anything physical would ruin this easiness that we had. It would add strings neither of us wanted. No, a friend was all Austin Steele could ever be, mouth-watering smile and hypnotic stare be damned.

Need that emergency brake!

“I was just kidding,” I whispered, my mouth suddenly dry, my stomach flipping.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a money clip stuffed with cash. “Let’s move on. I’ve got what I needed. Let’s day drink down the way, then we’ll go pick out that TV. When are your parents coming again? I want to make sure I’m around to watch the fireworks.”

***

Chapter 3

“Please, miss, stop obsessing. Everything is going to be just fine.”

I laid a blanket across the seat of the comfiest leather chair I could buy. Well…that Mr. Tom could buy. He had wrestled me away from the cashier again so he could pay. He was starting to give me a complex by not letting me buy things for myself.

The chair faced a large TV mounted on the wall, the cords hidden within a little white plastic strip running down to the ground. Eventually I’d get an electrician in here to put a plug in that spot so the cables would be hidden.

The rest of the furniture that had already filled the room, not matching the new leather chair, was resituated so other people could sit in here and watch TV, too.

We hadn’t been able to get a quick enough appointment for proper cable, but Niamh’s bar connection had outfitted us with a somewhat obscure black box. Given these were desperate times, I hadn’t asked questions, just hoped it was magical rather than illegal. I’d go the traditional cable route when there was time.

I’d deliberately chosen a sitting room close to the kitchen so my father wouldn’t have far to go for a snack.

“I know, I’m just…” I straightened up to make sure the furniture looked okay and not like a collection of flea market items haphazardly placed around the room.

“It’s not cold enough for a blanket anyway.” Mr. Tom moved to grab it.

“No, no.” I put out my hand to stop him. “It’s the fart blanket.”

Mr. Tom yanked back his hands. “I beg your pardon?”

“I think he uses a blanket so he doesn’t stick to the leather, but it also contains all the farts.”

A look of horror crossed Mr. Tom’s face. “Who are these people?”

“These people are my parents, and they’ll get weirder, don’t worry.”

I clicked on the TV, nodded when the picture came on, clicked it off again, and laid the remote on the chair arm. I pointed at the empty space to the right of it. “Where’s that end table? He needs a place to put his drinks. And the iPad. Put the iPad on the table.” At least we had Wi-Fi. It was one less thing to worry about.

I made my way to the kitchen and found Jasper loitering near the wall. He wasn’t on duty, but he also didn’t have a life other than watching over me. He could be found hanging around most times.

Jasper’s brow furrowed when I pointed at him. “We need to come up with a reason you’re always just standing around.” He watched me silently. “Or maybe you can just stand around outside? Normal homeowners don’t have bodyguards loitering around.”

“You are not a normal homeowner,” Mr. Tom said, catching up to me.

“Yes, Mr. Tom, I know that. Magical people know that. Do you know who doesn’t know that? Non-magical people, like my parents. How many times have we been over this?” I sighed. “My parents won’t be okay with learning magic exists—if they would even believe it. We have to pretend we’re Dicks and Janes, which is going to be incredibly difficult with so many magical people hanging around all the time. Honestly, you should all just join the hotel gargoyles in town for a few weeks. Take a break. I could call for backup whenever I leave the property.”

“A break?” Mr. Tom said, clearly affronted. “As if I would need a break. What a thing to say to me! Kicking me out of my home? Turning away all your help and protection? Isolating yourself?” He shook his head. “No, miss, my place is here. Your parents will understand, don’t worry.”

I opened my mouth to ask if he’d missed what I’d just said about my parents, then closed it again. What was the point? We’d just go round and round.

Ulric, another of the live-in gargoyles, sat at the round kitchen table, eating a sandwich and looking at his phone. The midmorning sun highlighted his pink and blue spiked hair, the same colors as his gargoyle form. He looked up when we came in and straightened with a smile.

“Counting down the minutes, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, they should be here anytime.” I pulled open the fridge doors, checking the snack supply. My dad had to have his cheese and salami.

A little thread of excitement wormed through the stressful anticipation of their arrival. Despite their hang-ups, I missed them. I hadn’t gone back to Los Angeles for Christmas because Jimmy had decided to stay in New York City with his new girlfriend, probably so he wouldn’t have to choose between Matt and me. Another reason I’d stayed was because I’d been told in no uncertain terms that my gargoyle entourage would be going with me if I traveled. (Even people as strange as my parents would have questions if I showed up with an entourage of men.) I didn’t call as often as I probably should, so this would be a nice chance to catch up.

I just wished they weren’t planning to stay so long.

“What about the salami?” I picked through the drawer in the fridge. “I don’t see any.”

“It’s here.” Mr. Tom pointed at the log hanging underneath one of the cabinets. “Please, miss, stop obsessing. I have everything. We are prepared.”

“I get it.” Ulric went back to his sandwich. “My parents are nuts. My mom has a cleaning complex. If she shows up at my place, she is cleaning within half an hour. Hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, you name it. It’s like she is a dirt crusader. You can never rest easy for fear you’ll make a mess and send her scurrying for the cleaning supplies. Don’t get me wrong, not having to clean for myself is amazing, but still, it’s a little much.”

“There is nothing to clean around here,” Mr. Tom said as he followed me out.

I scanned surfaces and shelves for anything I didn’t want the parents to notice. I’d already hidden a bunch of random wooden carvings of magical creatures and artifacts, locked the doll room, and ensured all of the weapons were put away in the attic, up a whole lot of steps I doubted my parents would climb. I hoped they wouldn’t, at any rate. The decorative wooden carvings above the archway in the foyer changed as I glanced around, shifting from a lovely scene of a meadow to a gruesome battle with dragons, tigers, and centaurs—swords drawn, heads rolling, and bodies piled high.

“Very funny, Ivy House. Change it back. Come on, you have to help. Try to be normal.”

“This is a magical house,” Cedric said as he walked down the stairs. One of two gargoyles who’d responded to my first summons for magical help (the other one had been dismembered), he was still here despite having fallen behind the others in flying prowess and protection. Austin hadn’t said it outright, but he’d hinted that maybe Cedric shouldn’t make the final cut. He wouldn’t say it, either. He offered his help and guidance when asked or when something was dire, but he left the major decisions regarding the team up to me, just like Ivy House did.

I kind of hated it. I always felt bad when I had to let people go. No one had lashed out, but somehow their disappointment was worse than anger.

“By definition,” Cedric said, “it is not normal.”

“Yes, thank you for the lesson on stating the obvious,” Mr. Tom said.

He was clearly jumping aboard the send-Cedric-home train, but I didn’t know what he was taking issue with—Cedric had just said exactly what Mr. Tom had been repeating for three days.

“I don’t feel like you all are giving this the weight you should be,” I muttered, entering the front sitting room and giving it a final once-over. “My parents are square. Do you know what square means?” I re-entered the foyer as Ulric joined us from the kitchen, Cedric now waiting at the bottom of the stairs. It felt like I was giving a pre-battle pep talk. “It was a term applied to the young people who followed the rules when the hippie scene was exploding. My parents have never done hallucinogens. They don’t watch fantasy-type shows, nor do they read fantasy-type books. They are so firmly entrenched in reality, and have been for so long, that none of this magical stuff will compute. They don’t have the imagination for it. They won’t understand an alternative lifestyle. We have to try to stay mainstream.”

“I like all these hot-button words you’re using.” Ulric laughed. “Alternative lifestyle? Staying mainstream? You got it, daddy-o.”

“Respect her, but do not encourage her in this,” Mr. Tom said out of the side of his mouth.

I caught movement through the window and then a flash of sun on metal. My heart stutter-started, and I quickly went to look, watching as the rusty red Cadillac pulled up to the curb.

“They’re here.” I turned to face everyone. “Quick! Hide!”

“What?” Cedric cocked his head in confusion.

“Sorry, no…” I waved the thought away. “Sorry, reflex. But…actually, yes, go to your rooms. Get out of sight. Let’s work them in slowly. Quick! Go! If you need anything, use the secret passageways. Ivy House, help them navigate those. They have my temporary permission.”

“Don’t lock them in for fun,” Mr. Tom said.

“I’ll just stay in my room, then,” Ulric said softly.

I heard voices outside, my parents already bickering as they emerged from the car. I just hoped my dad had pants on.

“You heard her: essential personnel only. Go to your rooms. I will get you when you’re needed.” Mr. Tom motioned everyone away. Apparently he’d dubbed himself essential personnel.

I opened the door as my parents loitered by the trunk, my mom gesturing toward the house while my dad fiddled with the keys.

“We’re not guests, Martha,” my dad was saying. “She won’t mind if we bring something in with us. We’ll have to make fewer trips this way.”

“We are guests, Pete. We don’t live here. Let’s go greet her before we all but move in.”

“That drip Matt isn’t here, so we don’t have to tiptoe around anymore. I’ll just bring the cooler. I could use a beer after that drive.”

“What do you mean, that drive?” My mom braced her fists on her hips. “I drove the last half!”

“I know. You frayed my nerves.”

I rolled my eyes and started forward, noticing Niamh sitting on her porch, watching the show with a smile. A Jeep Wrangler rolled down the street toward us, Austin behind the wheel, clearly making good on his pledge to watch the fireworks.

Fabulous. Everyone was present.

“Oh, hi!” My mom turned to greet me, only noticing my proximity when I was nearly upon her, her smile large and arms outstretched. I accepted a hug, then groaned with the squeeze.

“Hey ya, squirt.” Dad gave me a hug next, much looser, but the following pats on the back nearly beat the breath out of me. “So…” He stepped back and hiked up his pants, looking up at the house. His eyebrows slowly pinched together. He looked at the blue sky, then down the street, then back at the house. “You could do with a brighter paint. That one is too dark.”

“Honey!” My mom’s eyes were wide as she looked down my body. “Look at you! You look fantastic! Is it Zumba? I just got into a little Zumba myself. It’s hard on my knees, but if it worked this well for you, maybe I should try again.”

“You don’t know if it was Zumba,” my father said. “She didn’t say it was Zumba. It probably wasn’t those diet drinks you keep forcing on me, either.”

“I just worked out and ate well,” I murmured, forgetting about the transformation when I took the magic.

“And your skin!” My mom ran her hand down her cheek. “Chemical peel? I’ve heard chemical peels really give a nice glow. I’ve been meaning to try it.”

How did one tell their mother that the great skin was partially a result of having the first layer entirely burned away from a magical spell, and not dying from it because of magical healing?

“Yeah, chemical peel,” I murmured. Best just to lie a little.

“Well, you look fantastic. I made deviled eggs.” My mom gestured at one of the two coolers in the trunk. “And clam dip. They’ll still be good. We put a lot of ice in the coolers. I figured, we never had a party for Christmas, so we might celebrate a little while we’re here. Won’t that be nice?”

“Mom, why did you bring two coolers’ worth of food?” I asked as my dad struggled to lift the first out of the trunk. “I have everything.”

“Well, your father needed his beer…”

“I have beer, Dad. Wait, it’s stuck…” As I moved in to help my dad, I caught a glimpse of Austin out of the corner of my eye, coming closer. I also noticed a few strangers walking down the street toward Ivy House, their faces tilted up to marvel at the size of the structure. Which meant they’d be commenting on its creepiness next, and then waiting until we were gone and daring each other to sneak onto the property.

Niamh caught sight of them at the same time I did, braced herself, and stood slowly, rock in hand.

“Really? This has to happen right now?” I murmured.

“Blast this thing. Martha, I told you, you put too much stuff in the trunk,” my dad said.

“It’s not the stuff, it’s your muscles, Pete. They’ve atrophied. You should be exercising in retirement. Lifting a beer to your mouth is not exercising.”

“Depends on how many times you do it,” my dad responded.

“Here. Let me help.” Austin lightly jogged around the car, winking at me as he did so. “Let me help you, sir.”

Dad started, his eyes widening a little when he caught sight of Austin.

“Well, my goodness.” A smile slowly spread across my mom’s face. “Jacinta, who is this?”

“Oh, this is Austin. He’s a friend of mine.”

Niamh cocked back her hand and then let fly, a rock sailing through the air in a lazy arc before slamming against the arm of the teenage boy whose mouth had dropped open while looking at Ivy House. He jumped and grabbed the spot, the skin clearly smarting. When he looked around, he caught sight of Niamh straightening, having just picked up another rock.

“What the hell?” the kid hollered.

“We don’t want Peeping Toms around here,” Niamh yelled at them.

“It’s lookie-loos, not Peeping Toms,” I mumbled as the second projectile struck home, clunking the boy’s friend on the noggin.

“Ow!” The kid rubbed the offending spot.

“Is that old woman throwing rocks at those boys?” my mother said, aghast.

“Yeah, um…” I racked my brain for a way to put a positive spin on this. Niamh would surely be hanging out at Ivy House, and I didn’t want them to hate her. “We get some vandalism down this way, so Niamh tries to head them off. Ivy House is the oldest house in the town—it draws a lot of unwanted attention.”

“Ivy House? Is that—”

One of the boys rattled out a string of foul language as Niamh threw another rock.

“Did you hear that? Disgraceful, that language. Serves them right. Clearly they are up to no good.” My dad looked around his feet, but the only rocks in the vicinity were some decorative pea gravel. “I better help.”

“Dad, no. Leave it.” I patted his shoulder. “One crazy person on the block is enough. You don’t need to help her.”

“As if he could—he has terrible aim.” My mom clucked her tongue as the boys took off running. “I should make him clean around the toilet,” she said. “It’s more than a little sprinkle with those tinkles.”

Austin’s grin broadened.

“I could hit those kids from here,” my dad grumbled. “I’ve got good aim! My softball team won second place.”

“That was twenty years ago, Pete,” my mom said.

Austin reached into the trunk and pulled out one of the coolers, his biceps popping but showing no strain. “Should I take this to the house?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” My dad worked the other cooler out, heaving it from the car.

I reached for it. “I got it, Dad— Niamh, would you stop throwing rocks!” I yelled. She was still trying to hit the fleeing boys.

“Grab a bag.” My dad jerked his head at the duffel that had fallen from the corner of the trunk when the coolers were taken away. I grabbed it and hurried after them.

“It’s very gloomy, Jacinta,” my mother said, pulling a suitcase out of the back seat while looking up at Ivy House. “It looks like some sort of…black cloud is hanging over it, doesn’t it? It reminds me of Halloween.”

“Your mother is going blind, Jacinta,” my dad said over his shoulder. “She keeps losing her glasses.”

“Those are reading glasses, Pete. I don’t need them to see a big house. Look! It’s not even nighttime, but the window up there is glowing.”

“Listen to that, will ya, Austin? She fancies herself Stephen King now.” My dad shook his head as he made it to the porch. “Next she’ll say she sees a bat.”

Mr. Tom waited by the front door, his tuxedo as freshly pressed as ever and his posture straight and tall.

“Where do you want these?” Austin asked him.

“What…are those?” Mr. Tom asked. “They are visiting…with coolers? Like some sort of tailgaters?”

“Who’s this?” My dad half turned to me. “What’s he wearing, a tux with a cape? Is this one of those superhero convention things where everyone dresses up like a superhero? Is he some sort of James Bond with a Superman fetish or something? I didn’t bring a cape. I don’t even own a cape.”

“He’s the butler, Dad. He came with the house. Head to the kitchen, Austin.” I jerked my head to get him going. “Yes, Mr. Tom, they came with coolers. They get worried I won’t have the things they want, so they bring them. I thought maybe they’d trust me now, since I am no longer twenty, but here we are.”

“That’s your mother. I try to tell her, but she just won’t listen.” My dad set the cooler down just inside the door, opened the lid with a loud creaking noise, pushed aside a head of lettuce, and grabbed a can of beer. He held it out to me. “Wanna beer?”

Apparently we would not be waiting to get everything sorted in the kitchen.

“I would.” Niamh lifted her hand as she came up the walk, leaving my mother behind to continue rooting through the car. Lord knew what she was looking for, or why she didn’t just take everything out so the rest of us could help carry it in. “I’ll take one of them, if ye please.” Niamh stopped in front of my dad. “How’re ya? How’s it goin’? I’m Niamh from across the street.”

He passed over the can of beer before reaching down to grab another. He squinted at her. “Are you Irish?”

“Guilty. Leave that there,” she said as Dad started to mess with the cooler. “Come inside and sit down. Earl can handle all that.” She said it with the authority of one who lived there, an authority she deserved given she sat on the Ivy House council, but my parents didn’t know that. Still, my dad went with her willingly enough, muttering about her excellent aim and “punk kids.” Thank God she knew where I’d set up his TV lounge.

“A butler?” My mother finally caught up, rolling one suitcase and carrying another. “The house came with a butler? What sort of house comes with a butler?”

“It’s just…he had the job of caretaker, and when I bought the house, I didn’t want to turn him out.” I took the suitcase she held.

“Kinda weird with the cape, though,” she murmured as we finally crossed the threshold. “Does he always wear that, or is he trying to impress us somehow? Though I don’t know who would be impressed with a cape…”

“It’s…a long story. Go and sit down. Do you want—”

“Oh no, no, I’ll just see to the things I brought. I made deviled eggs. And clam dip. I figured that since you couldn’t make it down for Christmas—”

“I know, yeah. You said. Seriously, Mom, relax for a minute. It was a long drive. Do you want a beer? I’ll help Mr. Tom get things organized.”

She paused, looking up at the bloody scene Ivy House had left on the wood carving area in the foyer. While only I could see the carvings move, anyone could gawk at the still images.

Great. I’d hoped the house would change the scene before they came in.

“My goodness, that is horrific. Just what sort of place is this, Jacinta?” my mom asked.

She had no idea.

“Just…here.” I went back to the other cooler and grabbed out a beer. “Here. Go check on Dad. Niamh can be colorful.”

“Well, we need a tour, don’t we?”

“We…will,” I said, leading the way to the lounge. “We’ll get to that. Go check on Dad. The TV and cable box are new—I’m not sure if he’ll be happy with the setup.”

“Oh, he’s fine.” But she went in anyway.

I met Mr. Tom in the kitchen, standing over the cooler Austin had taken in, staring down at it like it was a dangerous bug with too many eyes. Austin had the same look.

“It’s just a cooler, you guys,” I said.

“It’s simply that…I have not heard of grown adults showing up to stay at a house with their own food and drinks, as though suspicious of the food and drinks they are liable to be given. Do they assume I will poison them?”

“There’s just certain stuff they prefer. My mom didn’t know I have a butler who shops and makes food.”

Austin bent to pull out a plastic bag of dried cranberries. He arched an eyebrow at me.

“It’s for salads. Seriously, you guys, this isn’t that weird. I mean…it’s a little weird that they would bring a cooler instead of just getting here and going shopping as needed, but…” I shrugged.

Austin put the cranberries on the island. “What is…clam dip?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It sounds gross, but it’s actually good.”

“That cannot possibly be true,” Mr. Tom said, removing items from the cooler as if they might explode at any moment.

“It’s cream cheese and, yes, canned clams, and other stuff. It’s good, seriously. Anything with cream cheese is good.”

“Cream cheese and seafood. Hmm, can’t wait.” Austin laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll grab the other cooler.”

“Yes. Because they brought two,” Mr. Tom murmured, lifting a roast and looking at me. “An entire roast? She is planning to cook dinner for everyone, I presume, since my cooking is so lacking?”

“Oh my God, Mr. Tom, stop making this about you, would you? I thought you were happy to meet the people who made me.”

“That was before they attempted to replace me.”

I stared at him for a solid beat. It hadn’t occurred to me that my mother might try to wrest the control of the kitchen, cleaning, and laundry away from Mr. Tom. Nor had it dawned on me that Mr. Tom would be affronted by this very standard behavior of hers. I tended to like when she did dinners and cleaned for me. That meant I had less to do. But the inevitable friction between Mr. Tom and my mom added a whole new layer of tension to my parents’ visit.

When Austin came in with the second cooler, I grabbed his arm in desperation. “Can I borrow your cabin for a couple weeks? Please?”

He laughed softly. “This is going to be a lot more fun for me than it will be for you.”

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