There wasn’t anyone I could talk to about this. I had no one. My mother had pretty much checked out of my life years ago. And she didn’t know anything. This was on dad’s side. I knew my grandfather had another family, my dad’s half-brothers, but they had every reason to resent my dad, and besides that, a few half-hearted attempts to find information about them had gone nowhere. If they were wizards or whatever—I still had to shake my head thinking about it—then it made sense. They might live as off-grid as Grandpa.
So I had three names. The rest of the Sons of Pandora.
One of them was already dead, for sure. Byron. He was an extremely charismatic librarian. What library, I had no idea. He died around the time I was born so I had no memory of him.
Last I knew, Sam and Deveraux were still alive. But it wasn’t like I ever asked Grandpa about them. And they’d also be past a hundred years old. What were the chances?
Sam was a lawyer from California, or so I understood, but he was an incredibly handsome, Brat Pack-charming sort of guy, which was one more reason I thought maybe my grandfather was in the mob. I assumed he was like Tom Hagen, the lawyer in the Godfather movies.
Deveraux. Deveraux Greenwood. That was definitely a warlock name if I ever heard one. He was a southern gentlemanly type, impeccably dressed, a nice guy but borderline alcoholic. Once a year for many years he made a pot of gumbo.
I only met them a few times as a kid. They were my grandfather’s best friends, but all I knew was that my dad hated them. Apparently they saw more of Grandpa than my dad did. Even though they lived in different parts of the country, they were always visiting, or my grandfather would visit them and be gone for a while.
It did always seem weird that Grandpa was so close to these three. I had always guessed they met in the military, if my mob theory wasn’t true.
Now I had no idea. What the hell were those guys doing?
I got home late, beating a nighttime storm to walk into a cold, dark apartment. Times like this I wished I knew how to take care of a pet, but I always felt like I didn’t have time. I ended up staying awake through the night digging through old files trying to find information. I might as well have gone back to Lockwood House if I was going to waste a night like that. I would have had Helena, and the flickering candles of the old house. Plus that bottle of wine I would have brought.
In the morning, I tried to call a phone number I found for Deveraux.
“Oh, cher, Deveraux’s gone,” a sweet older woman’s voice said on the other line. I guessed she was a maid or nurse just because Deveraux was so old.
“When will he be back?”
“I mean, he’s gone. He’s passed. Just last night.”
“He died last night?” That was so strange. Or maybe it was just strange that he was alive in the first place.
“In his sleep, very peaceful. He’s one hundred and six this October, so God bless him, but he’s ready to move on. I’m sorry. The funeral’s on Sunday.”
“Does he have any heirs? Maybe I could speak to them. I’m the grandson of one of his friends, so I—”
“He has a daughter but she’s living in Paris. I just don’t know what they’re gonna do with this house. It’s a shame. This house has been in the family since I don’t know when, but it’s haunted and it’s just falling to pieces now.”
“Can you give me her number? Or vice versa? I would love to buy that house.”
The words came out of my mouth before I had given it two seconds of thought.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HELENA
I GOT BACK to the house and unloaded box after box of tile, half upstairs and half downstairs, until my muscles were screaming. Curses that the new tub wasn’t installed yet. A cup of chamomile tea would have to do. I lit the candles on the dining room table and collapsed into the chair, watching candlelight play on the pink wallpaper with the beautifully painted flora and fauna.
“Angel…” I heard Byron’s disembodied voice melt through my ears. “I hope you will sleep well tonight. The anticipation…is killing me.”
I wanted to tell him to stop calling me cheesy names, but…man, he sold it hard.
I had almost forgotten about the dream sex as I was dragging all those boxes around. Now I remembered. Big time.
I felt a little ridiculous for getting myself in this situation, but didn’t I deserve a little fun once in a while? You can’t have all work and no play. I would finally find out what it was like to be with a man whose dick was as impressive as my dildo. I mean, except for the fact that presumably, Byron didn’t vibrate in ten different patterns.
He appeared in front of me, taking the form of a human for the first time. I mean, sort of human. Freakishly sexy, and still actively smoldering, with eyes I could hardly tear away from and tousled black hair that I wanted to tousle some more. But, no demon bits. I assume this was because his wings wouldn’t fit in the chair. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“Oh, you wish.” I smiled gently at the glinting eyes across the flickering flame. The soft light played across his handsome face but made him look older and more ghostly, in a dignified way. In the dreams he seemed as alive as I was. I thought it must be very sad to be caught between living and dying. But until recently he had been keeping his old friend company.
Now he was my problem.
