The road to Crescent Hilllooked like something out of a painting. Old oaks lined on both sides, their leaves fluttering gold under the dying light, and the air had that strange kind of stillness that made you feel watched. It was almost five in the evening when I turned onto the long, winding path leading toward the estate. I’d heard of the place before, everyone in town had. The Solace Estate, one of the biggest properties in the county, if not the biggest, from what I had seen so far. It used to belong to one of the richest families around, though rumor said tragedy had gutted them a year ago. I remembered Margie, the laundry lady who worked in the cleaning crew that went up there twice a month, would always come back saying, “That house feels wrong, like it remembers.”I hadn’t thought much about it then, I even laughed at the time, but now, driving up that path, I understood it.
That house did feel…strange.
The air grew heavier with every turn, the sunlight stretchedthinner, and for a brief second, something like familiarity washed through me. It was faint, but deep, like the way a scent can bring back a memory you don’t fully own. I frowned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. I’d never been here before, in fact, I’d only moved into this town three years ago, so why did it feel like something in the walls already knew who I was?
I brushed the thought off with a low exhale and slowed down as the house came into view, but before I could admire the property, I saw her.
Elena.
She stood at the edge of the front porch, her arms folded across her chest, and the wind teasing the short strands of her raven-black hair. It caught the light in shades of dark blue, like ink under moonlight. She had a fringe that framed her eyes; it fell just above her brows. The air toyed with it, tossing strands across her cheek, making her tug them behind her ears as she watched me drive up to her. She was fuller, rounder, her curves framed by a sundress; an old-fashioned, soft cream fabric with faded florals that looked like it belonged to another time. Something you’d wear on a quiet farm morning, not in a town like this.
She was…not what I expected, but what was I expecting in the first place? She wasn’t the trembling, wide-eyed woman I’d imagined when I heard her voice over the phone. No, she was standing tall, a little guarded, but there was a quiet strength there. A curve to her mouth that said she’d survived more than most.
And God, she was gorgeous.
“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath, my voice half a groan, half a whisper. I even almost forgot to hit the brakes.
By the time I parked, my pulse had already betrayed me completely. I grabbed my satchel from the passenger seat, full of red candles, oil blends, matches, my notes, and a few talismans,just all the usual gear. The bag felt heavier than it should’ve, and maybe that was because something in me already knew this job wasn’t going to be the usual kind.
When I stepped out, she was still there, watching me with a kind of cautious curiosity, and the way her eyes followed me made me forget, momentarily, that I was supposed to be the calm one on a job.
“Miss Solace?” I asked, my voice sounding steadier than I felt.
“Just Elena,” she replied. Her voice was exactly as I remembered, soft but laced with something steady, laced with a tremor she was trying hard to hide.
I nodded, offering a small smile as I extended a hand. “We finally meet in person.”
Her fingers slipped into mine, warm and real, and for a second the air seemed to hum. The handshake lasted longer than it should have. I didn’t pull away, and neither did she. There was something there, not sparks, not lightning, something slower…familiar. I didn’t imagine it, and I knew she felt it too. I saw the brief flicker in her eyes before she awkwardly smiled and looked away, her lips curving in that half-shy, half-aware kind of way that twisted something in my chest.
“You look nothing like your voice,” she commented, pressing her lips together as she scanned me.
“No?” I asked, fighting a smile.
“No, you look better.”
I almost choked on air. “Can’t say the same about you, Elena,” I said, grinning. “Your voice and face are exactly as stunning as I imagined.”
“Flattery?” she smiled.
“Truth,” I replied, letting the silence follow suit, as we stood there in time and space, smiling at each other. I was here for a reason, right? Right! So, what was it? Oh yes!
“Well,” I cleared my throat, trying to redirect my mind toanything else but how pretty she was. “Why don’t you show me where the activity’s strongest?”
“Sure.” She turned and walked toward the front door.
I followed and tried not to look where I was definitely looking. With my gaze on her ass, I noticed the way she walked; confident, unhurried, her hips moving in that natural rhythm that seemed to have its own music. I shouldn’t have noticed, I never noticed, but damn, it was impossible not to. The old sundress moved with her, and my mind started thinking things it shouldn’t. Her hips swayed as she walked, the hem of that sundress brushing over the back of her thighs. The fabric was thin, old-fashioned, and moved with her in a way that made me forget I was supposed to be focusing on supernatural disturbances and not the way sunlight played over the back of her knees.
I wasn’t the kind of guy who thought much about women’s clothing, never thought about fabrics or the way cotton might stretch or cling, or how colors and hues fit together, but now, all of a sudden, I was thinking about all of it. How she looked beautiful in soft yellow, how other types of clothes would look gorgeous on her, around her ass, how that dress would feel against my palms if I touched it…If I touched her.Fuck!And what she looked like beneath it.
I swallowed hard and looked away, dragging my mind back to reality.Focus, man. You’re here for a reason, I tried to tell myself, but my eyes didn’t get the memo, because for all the fucking obvious reasons, they stayed glued to the round, jiggling ass in front of me.
The moment I stepped over the threshold, and the heavy wooden doors shut behind us, something deep in me stirred. A pressure behind my ribs, like the walls had exhaled, like the house itself knew my name and…and was welcoming me…home? But maybe I imagined it, maybe it was just the job, thefatigue, the strange beauty of the woman walking ahead of me.
The air in the house had grown heavy by the time night fell, like it was breathing against us, waiting for us to make a move. Every time the wind pressed against the windows, the walls answered with a long, aching creak. It was a routine I was used to, the sound, the anticipation and the beings watching and waiting for me to call them. But I couldn’t help the feeling that this was different, strange to say the least. Something about all of this was new, like what I was preparing to fight had been waiting for me.
I picked up my kit, the small bottles, a flask of oil, a thin silver chain, the candles, and turned to her. “Show me somewhere you feel safe, like the safest part of the house for you. If there’s any room that feels...lighter.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Max’s room.”
