Demons in the Bedroom (Paranormal House Flippers Book 1) Read online

  “Just coffee,” I said. “Nothing else. I’m a very busy girl.”

  “I didn’t come to brood over my final memories of my grandfather just to pick up girls at the same time,” he said. “It’s just…coffee.” Still, he had a look on his face that indicated the opposite. Like I intrigued him. “I’m Graham,” he said, offering a hand.

  “Helena.”

  I wonder if it’s physical attraction, or is he just aware that he’s standing in front of a witch, and that he has magical blood himself?

  The auctioneer shouted a final call from the front of the house.

  “Good luck,” the guy said, “or maybe I should wish you bad luck. Remember what I said. You don’t want this house.”

  “Message received. Thanks.”

  Chapter Two

  Helena

  We were all gathered on the grass, with the air of pent up tension that every auction held. Jake and Jasper were all crossed arms and chill expressions, like they didn’t care how this went. Kiersten had the same ready-to-kill expression I bet she had at her exercise classes.

  I’m not sure which made me feel more competitive.

  I looked at the house and I tried to take Graham’s words to heart. You always end up cursing and panicking when you actually win houses like this. Remember how much work it was just to squeeze a few bucks out of the Callahan manor? Just walk away and stick to cottages.

  Some humans were gathered as well, of course, and they outnumbered us ten to one, but I knew who would be fighting at the end.

  The auctioneer went over the basic rules.

  Jake shot me a cocky smile.

  Hey, babe. Maybe let the big boys have this house, huh? You really need a partner if you’re going to stay in this game.

  I glowered at him.

  He shrugged and looked at Jasper like, Helena always has such a stick up her ass.

  He didn’t say all that, but I knew what he was thinking.

  I tried to stay cool and collected. Unreadable and distant as a princess. It was the only defense I had, because it was true. I was the only one in this business on my own. Sure, I hired some jobs out when it was beyond one woman’s ability, but for the most part, this was all on me.

  “Five thousand, do we have five thousand?”

  A mundane man’s hand went up.

  “Seventy-five hundred.”

  “Yep.” Now a burly older woman with a younger guy, maybe her son. More mundanes. The auctioneer really didn’t think much of this house. He was starting it off below the value of the land itself, I would guess, but…on the other hand, we were pretty far away from any town of worth. And winters were cold and isolated here.

  “Ten thousand.”

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  It shot up to twenty thousand fast. Then the mundanes started peeling off. None of the magical folk had gotten in on it yet.

  “Thirty thousand,” the burly woman said, her voice defiant, like she expected this one to do it.

  “Thirty thousand, going once. Thirty thousand, going twice…”

  “Forty thousand.” Kiersten slid in through the auctioneer’s patter, with her slow, sexy west coast voice and a smile added in at the end like she was in a pageant.

  Man, she really riled me up. Get ahold of yourself, Helena. Buying houses you can’t afford just to get the better of Kiersten is stupid.

  I mean, what is she even doing in Pennsylvania, though? I’m the northeastern girl here. I’m a creature of cold, gray skies and gloriously gloomy old houses with sad ghosts and tiny windowpanes. Can’t she stay over on the other side of the continent where she belongs?

  “Forty-five,” I said, my hand twitching upward against my will. I swear. I knew I shouldn’t even get involved.

  The burly woman was staring at us slack-jawed and then waved me off with a sunburnt arm before heading back to her car.

  “Fifty,” Kiersten said, looking so totally chill that she was glancing at her cell phone while she bid.

  I was sweating buckets out my armpits and also drenching my socks. I wanted to slap my own face and demand to know, Why are you so uncool? Why are you sweating? Just let her win! So what!

  When I found an auction for a wizard’s former home and I was the only witch present, man, it was a rush. I would look around and know I was going to win. It was just a matter of letting it all unfold. My mind would already be holding the key, opening the door, and seeing my prize. But when I was competing against this crew, against Kiersten’s money and perfect life, and the brothers’ muscle and construction skill…

  But I’m the best when it comes to magic.

  Damnit. This is a true magical house.

  “…going twice…”

  I opened my mouth.

  “Sixty,” Jake said, his hand twitching up as his face was partially shielded by the brim of his Red Sox cap. You knew when you were dealing with werewolves in the supernatural world. They were the only magical folk who found human sports teams interesting. Something about packs of dudes running around outside appealed to them, I guess.

  An audible gasp ran through the humans who were still hanging around just to watch, and I choked on my words.

  “Folks, we’ve got a live one here. Sixty five, are you in at sixty five?” Looking at Kiersten.

  “Yeah,” she said, tossing her hair back.

  She’s out. I think she’s out. That hair toss is her tell.

  “Seventy.” He looked at me.

  If I say yes, I’ll beat her.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  “Seventy-five, will you do seventy-five?”

  “Yep,” Jake said, while Jasper hissed at me,

  “Come on, Hel. This is too much house for you. This project has our names written all over it.”

  “No.”

  “I’m being serious here. How are you going to renovate that beast? You’re going to lose money. I don’t want to see you fail.”

  “None of your business!”

  I had nearly forgotten about the coffee date with Graham and it flashed through my mind. When I slid into a vinyl booth (we were in the middle of nowhere, so I would assume the only place to get a coffee would be a diner) across from him and told him I had the house, he would know I was not half as sensible as I looked.

  But, fuck ‘im. “Eighty,” I said, locking eyes with Jasper.

  “Eighty-five,” Jake said.

  “Ninety.”

  “Fuck. Ninety-five.”

  “One hundred!”

  He threw up a hand. “I’m out.”

  “Going once, going twice. One hundred thousand dollars to the lovely lady in the black dress.” The auctioneer looked thrilled. Sure, he was probably getting at least three times the commission he expected.

  Jake and Jasper boxed me in the second it was over, tall and tanned and totally ripped in their not-quite-matching flannel shirts. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jake was the more easily pissed, foul-mouthed of the two.

  “That house is just too much for you,” Jasper said, trying to level with me. “It’s over now, so tell me—what did you see in this place? Did I miss a treasure chest?”

  “I’m not even going to discuss this,” I said. “I love the house and it’s mine. You lost and you can wonder about the treasure chest in the basement forever. Go back to Massachusetts.”

  “We’re not far, if you need to hire two skilled contractors,” Jasper said, as Jake just gave me the finger, or actually, two fingers, both middle ones.

  “Real charming,” I said. “That definitely won’t make me want to drive up the price next time.”

  “Helena,” Kiersten said, sidling up to me the minute they were gone. “Babe, you got caught up in that one, huh?”

  “Why does everyone think I overpaid!? This is a great house!” I said, and I didn’t sound frantic at all. Did I? No. No. I could be a very composed and regal figure when I wanted to be. “It’s going to be some witch’s dream home when I’m done.”

  “Prove me wrong,”
Kiersten said, with a smile that dripped oh-honey-are-you-okay. “I can’t wait to see the listing.”

  As I walked back to my truck, Bevan flew down onto my shoulder. “You were so busy talking to that mundane,” he said, “that I never had a chance to tell you that this house seems like it might have termites.”

  I rubbed my temples. I was going to need more than coffee.

  Chapter Three

  Helena

  A dashingly masculine hand lifted from the corner when I walked into Sandy’s Diner. As I walked toward the booth, hugging the vintage Chanel bag that I was starting to wonder if I would have to pawn to pay for this house, my eyes couldn’t help but follow the hand to the slightly tanned forearm, the rolled up black sleeve, the shoulder—mm, god, I was a sucker for a good shoulder. His hair was no longer slicked back, but hanging over his eyes. Golden brown eyes, blinding me with their beauty again once he slid off his sunglasses. His smile was suave, but genuine. That was good. I didn’t need any cynical smiles in my life.

  Graham had just transformed from a guy who was too preppy to someone extremely my type. There was still a whiff of yacht, but it was drowned out by the black clothes and messy hair. I could tell he’d been running his fingers back and forth in it. He was drinking black coffee.

  “I didn’t order yet,” he said. “This is my treat, by the way. Not that it’s expensive. And I know it’s not really a date. I’m just getting the feeling…” He looked at me. I remembered to release my hands from the bag strap. I saw him note the Chanel clasp with the tiniest hint of surprise. I had tried to dress up for this (non) date, just because I hadn’t been on a (non) date in a long time. My black blouse was just a tiny bit sheer and I put on some kitten heels. I had to dig this stuff out of a plastic bag in my truck that I was going to take to the thrift store. Good thing I was too preoccupied to hit Goodwill on time.

  “You’re getting the feeling…”

  “That maybe you’re not great with money.” He gave me a piercing look now. “Or you’re…from money. Or both.”

  “That isn’t really your business.” I’m sure I flushed.

  “Did you buy it?” He added, “They didn’t tell me the buyer, but I know what they paid.”

  “Yeah,” I said, grabbing the menu and pretending to skim it. “I bought it. It’s a great house.”

  “You fool.”

  I snapped the menu down. “Excuse me?”

  “I told you not to buy it.”

  “I remember. So you’re calling me a fool now?” Sort of an old-fashioned word for a human to use, I thought. But definitely a word an old wizard like his grandfather might say.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked.

  “It’s a great house.”

  “Yes. I heard you the first time. So you’re not going to tell me any reason? Is there a gold mine on the property?”

  He certainly was not making me feel any better. “I got competitive,” I said.

  “Who was competing against you to drive the price up that high!?”

  “Can we just let it go and have some burgers?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He looked back at the menu but I could tell he wasn’t reading it, and was, in fact, being driven crazy by the knowledge that I paid so much for his grandfather’s house. His foot was tapping against the linoleum and he was jabbing a finger into the side of his forehead.

  “It’s my money,” I said. “Or, at least, it was. I suppose it’s your money now. And my house.”

  “I was never going to come up here again,” he said. “I don’t even have any family, so what the hell would I do with a huge house out in the country, a thousand miles from home? And all the repairs—it would be a nightmare. I’m glad someone’s taking it on. I get the feeling you will take good care of the house and find it new buyers. But my grandfather’s death is messing with my brain. I don’t know why. He was a hundred and four. At that age, his life is the surprise, not the death. I don’t know why I’m getting so upset about these old memories, but—to be honest—I’m feeling some regret that I sold the house.”

  “I see.”

  “I even started to think, maybe whoever bought it, I’d just buy it from them.”

  “But you don’t have a hundred grand sitting around?”

  “No.”

  “You have my hundred grand,” I said. “Minus the auctioneer’s cut. Do you really want it back?”

  “No.”

  “So now you’re mad at me because I paid all that money for your house, even though you’re the one who put it up for sale? This isn’t my fault. You just miss your grandfather.” This guy is a mess, I thought, but I felt guilty almost immediately for thinking that. I was the one who paid too much. Graham actually gave off the vibe of a very composed and successful person who was dealing with an unexpected loss.

  “My grandfather always reminded me of Gandalf,” he said, veering off course. “Like some wise old…wizard.”

  “You really don’t know…,” I said. I shouldn’t be the one to tell him. It was against all the rules of the magical world to go blabbing about it to humans unless you planned to sort of sponsor them into the magical world, like if you fell in love. But it was a gray area when it came to the descendants of wizards who had never been told.

  “What don’t I know?” he asked sharply. “What did you find? You did see something, didn’t you?”

  “No, it’s just—“

  “Was he involved in a cult? Is it something like that?”

  “I never met your grandfather!”

  “I found strange stuff in his house. I don’t know how he lived such a simple life out there. I’m surprised it wasn’t in even worse shape. I don’t think he ever had help. I see how the garden was overgrown, and the house is all dusty and…when I walked in, I saw all the things he left undone. I tried to clean up. He had all these arcane books, and…I realized how little I knew about him.”

  “Oh…god,” I breathed. Shit. His grandfather should have hid that stuff from mundanes. Unless he wanted Graham to find it, and he had missed the clues. “What did you do to ‘clean up’?”

  “Most of it sold at the estate auction. A couple of things I buried with his ashes.”

  I must have looked ashen myself.

  The waitress nudged in just then, putting a big freckled hand on the table between us. “You ready to order yet? Questions?”

  “Um…the…cheeseburger,” I said. “And fries.”

  “The grilled salmon,” Graham said. “With broccoli.”

  We gave each other the tiniest look of disdain. What kind of a man orders salmon and broccoli at a greasy spoon? He seemed to be thinking I wasn’t careful with my money or my body. So, this was a bad date. Whatever. After tonight, I’d get to work on my money pit and he would go home with my hundred thousand dollars.

  “Something very strange is going on,” he said. “The last thing I need is a scandal my opponent can make use of.”

  “Your…opponent?”

  “I’m running for the House,” he said.

  “What house?”

  “Congress?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “What other house are you thinking?”

  Erm. Not like ‘the House of Habsburg’ or anything. You couldn’t run to be royalty, and I should know. “You’re a politician,” I said. This kept getting worse.

  I had politicians in my family. We were descended from actual royalty—the magical branch of the Austrian Habsburgs. I had current and former witch and warlock high council members on both sides of my family, as well as plenty of regional councils.

  And it was just one more reason I didn’t want anything to do with my family.

  “Yes, I’m currently a state representative but now I’m running for congress.”

  I hoped he didn’t find out that I wasn’t entirely sure what all of this even meant. The magical world usually didn’t pay attention to human politics. We didn’t vote. Some magical folk didn’t even get into the system, didn’t have social security numbers or driver’s
licenses. We had our own magical councils to set our rules, and the human world seemed like a whole other deal with no bearing on our lives. If we did vote, it was mostly based on environmental issues only—nothing else affected us. We had our own healers, our own jobs, our own support systems, our own laws.

  I think he expected me to be impressed.

  “Oh…yeah, wow,” I said.

  “Not political?” he said. “It’s okay. I’d rather that than get into an argument about something or other.”

  He had the gleam of ambition in his eyes, I thought. Some magical folk went into politics. It gave them power. Any job that led to people looking up to you with admiration and awe fed into magical power.

  “What led you to politics?” I asked.

  “I like helping people,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a ruthless gleam that told the whole story.

  “Uh-huh.” This man is the grandson of a warlock and he’s giving himself magical power and he doesn’t even know it…does he? “I expect you’ll have no trouble with the women’s vote,” I said, more sarcastically than flirtatiously.

  “I hope I earn it fair and square,” he said.

  The waitress brought our food and I took a huge bite of my burger. I had barely scarfed down an Egg McMuffin on the way to the auction and I was starving. Grease dribbled down my chin while Graham cut a piece of broccoli in half with a knife. He was one of those very clean, exacting types of men but I could just tell he would be deliciously demanding in the bedroom.

  I tried not to think about that, however. This wasn’t even a good date. The last thing I wanted to think about was what he might demand and how I would respond. Even though guys like this reminded me of my family and I didn’t really want to date them, there was a part of me that relished making them lose control. I would bet he usually dated office girls in heels who never lifted more than a cell phone. I spent a lot of time with a sledgehammer. I had strong arms. I was flexible, too. I’d teach him a few things.

  Okay, you can pack in the desperate overconfidence, Helena. You haven’t even had sex in cough-cough years.