Completely out of place against the warm autumn leaves and golden sky, my house sat there, solidified, silent, anddeeplyunwelcoming.
Chapter 8. Blaise
I glanced between my mate—Gods, it was going to take a long time to get used to that—and the creepy-ass house that had just magicked into existence right in front of my eyes.
Neither of them looked like a natural match for the other.
Caitlyn, all bright colors and nervous energy, looked like she belonged in one of those cheerful houses with fake flamingos dotted across the front lawn.
Her house, however, looked as though it should be perpetually surrounded by blood moons and thunderclouds. Everything about it was black, right down to the intimidating wrought-iron spikes spearing skyward from its crooked towers.
And I immediately fell in love with it.
A memory bubbled to the surface. Back when the four of us—Devlin, Lochran, Ambrose, and I—were first exploring the mortal world, we had stumbled across a similar, though nowhere near as impressive, abandoned house. A group of mortal kids had been gathered outside, daring each other to spend five minutes inside. I’d been instantly intrigued, listening with fascination as the mortal kids traded ghost stories about the place, that familiar itch sparking under my skin—the need to be the one who went in and proved there was nothing to fear.
Devlin had blanched, immediately refusing. Lochran had stayed with him, though more out of bored indifference than fear.
It was Ambrose who’d followed me inside. His shadows had coiled with mine before slipping ahead of us, probing the dark corners of the rooms—the same midnight shadows that had torn apart an entire nest of vampires, I realized suddenly.
My stomach flipped. He’d been protecting me. Even then.
While I’d rushed toward danger for the thrill of it, he’d been right behind me, ready to tear anything apart that tried to hurt me.
I bit the inside of my lip.
Stop thinking about Ambrose. You’ve literally just found your fated mate,I chastised myself.
“Um, I know it’s not what everyone would pick,” she said in a near whisper—presumably so the house didn’t hear her.
“I love it,” I said, loud enough that it definitely would.
Caitlyn sagged with relief, though she still twisted her fingers together nervously. “Um... well, I guess I should bring you in to meet Creep,” she said, taking a tentative step toward the house.
My brows furrowed. “Creep?” I asked, following her.
She let out a small, bracing breath and threw me an almost pleading look over her shoulder. “You know how I said the houses were sentient?”
I nodded, but she’d already turned away, her attention fixed on the front door as she stepped onto the creaking porch.
“Well, sometimes they like to manifest,” she said, waving a vague hand, “and possess—well, possess isn’t quite the right word, but... anyway.”
She stopped in front of the uninviting doorway, shaped into a gothic lancet arch. The black paint was peeling, and cobwebs drooped from the point of the arch like a creepy, weirdly charming net curtain.
Caitlyn followed my gaze, color rising in her cheeks. “I, um... every time I try to spruce the place up, Creep just puts it back the way she likes it. Honestly, I think she has some kind of control over the spiders. They just go straight back and rebuild the webs.”
“So... whoisCreep?” I asked again.
“Creep is—” Caitlyn began, just as the front door creaked open.
She shot me an apologetic glance as I peered inside.
The hallway was dark enough that even I had to narrow my eyes to adjust. A dusty, threadbare Persian rug stretched across dark oak floorboards. Against one wall sat a carved console table, crowded with small taxidermy creatures beneath grimy glass domes, vases of long-decayed flowers, and what I assumed was once an ornate mirror, its surface so clouded with filth it no longer reflected anything at all.
A staircase, with thick, gothic-carved balustrades, wound its way up the side of the hall, the landing beyond cloaked in shadows so dense the only thing I could make out was the glassy glint of more taxidermy eyes watching us from above.
The only light came from a carved archway to our left, where a soft orange flicker hinted at a dying fire.
With a long, resigned sigh, Caitlyn stepped inside, dust puffing up around her boots as she headed toward the room where Creep was presumably waiting.
