3
Motherfucker.
Can I go back to bed and pretend I’m not home? Maybe they’ll leave. Maybe they’ll think the rift is some sort of sun flare playing tricks on their eyes. People look for a rational explanation for things even when what’s “rational” is even more of a stretch of the imagination than a supernatural reasoning.
And if Jared is there…dammit. I grab a pair of sweatpants from the floor that either Tom or Gil left a few days ago and quickly put them on. I throw on an oversized Philadelphia Police Department T-shirt and go downstairs, not caring that my hair is a ratty mess or that I’m not wearing a bra.
I shoot back the deadbolt and open the front door, expecting Robert and Jared, not a whole fucking crowd of people. Robert’s at the front and center, standing next to a pretty blonde who I’m guessing is his wife. She’s holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies and has a big smile on her face that disappears when she sees me.
“Morning, Detective,” Robert says. “We heard about what happened and wanted to thank you.”
So many fucking things have happened in the last twenty-four hours. “I was just doing my job,” I say, knowing there could only be one they’re referring to.
“We thought you might not feel up to coming to the party tonight,” the blonde says. “So we thought we’d bring a bit of the party to you.”
Party? What—oh right. Robert’s hosting a big Memorial Day party at his house tonight for all the neighbors in this little stretch of town.
“Keri’s chocolate chip cookies are to die for.” Robert smiles at his wife, who extends the plate to me. A woman behind her has what looks like a casserole, and the two other women next to her have bowls of something as well. The polite thing to do is invite them in. Stepping aside, I wave my arm.
“Come on in, and thank you. You guys didn’t have to do that.”
“We know,” Robert says, stepping in. Jared’s right behind him, looking both annoyed and curious. I’m still not sure if I can’t stand the kid or admire his determination. Everyone comes inside, collectively admiring the house after they introduce themselves. It’s ostentatious and impressive and though I haven’t done anything to it since I inherited it, I’m proud to call this place my home.
“We all feel a little safer knowing you’re down the road,” Keri says, looking around.
I just smile and take the plate of cookies from her, wondering where to put them. The kitchen? Set them down on the coffee table and offer beverages? I don’t entertain like this.
“I do what I can,” I say, deciding the kitchen is best. There are three other dishes and they all look like they need to be refrigerated. “Do you want anything to drink?” I have a fully stocked fridge, so I have options at least. The guys eat a lot of food once they wake up.
“Oh, no thank you,” Keri says. “We don’t want to impose.”
I turn, giving her a polite smile, and cross the threshold into the kitchen. Right away I see ingredients for a spell laid out on the table, along with a note from Jac. To the others, it probably looks like I was getting ready to make a weird soup, and I grab the note, glancing down as I fold it in half.
I’m only able to read the first line, and see that Jac got things out in case I need to do a banishing spell. I slip the note into the nearest drawer, which houses my silverware, and turn back to my guests with a fake smile on my face.
“Thanks again for coming over. That’s really, uh, neighborly of you.”
“That’s how we are around here,” the woman who introduced herself as Cora says. She’s holding a container of baked spaghetti that smells so good.
“It’s different.” I take the food from her and try to find a place in the fridge for it. “Different but nice. I used to live right downtown.”
“Closer to work, right?” Robert leans against the counter, looking at Jared, who’s edging out of the kitchen.
“Yeah. I’m quite a ways out now. But this place grew on me, and even though it more than doubled my commute, I’m staying.”
“I’d stay too,” a pretty woman with dark hair says. I think her name is Tiana. Shit. I don’t remember. I’m good at remembering details, but I didn’t really pay attention when they introduced themselves. “It’s a gorgeous house. I’ve admired it since I was a kid.”
It hits me that these people grew up here on the outskirts of town, driving by this old house on a daily basis. They might know a thing or two about my great aunt Mary who used to live here. Maybe I can get some answers after all.
I take a casserole from her, and as soon as I put it on the counter, a long bang comes from the living room. Everyone jumps and my heart leaps out of my chest. Not because I’m scared, but because there are strangers standing in my kitchen and I might very well have to fight a demon. I curl my fingers into my palms, feeling heat rush through my hands, and step out of the kitchen.
A book is lying on the floor in the living room, not far from the doors that lead to the library. I don’t need to pick it up to know what it is. I’d recognize that book anywhere because it means so much to me.
Emma.
It was my mother’s favorite, and it’s really fucking strange how just a second after I thought about asking someone other than her for answers about my family, the book flew out of the library.
“Old houses settle,” Robert says, and the others nod. Yeah, they settle as loud as books being thrown.
