“Right…,” he said.
“What? You think I should?” Oh boy, I would love someone to validate my desire to add the wainscoting.
“No, I’m just…thinking about how much all this costs…never mind. I can’t wait to see what you did with the kitchen.”
“Ohh…nothing. The kitchen didn’t need anything but a good cleaning.”
“What about that range from the last century!? The old cabinets? The linoleum?”
“Oh! That’s right. I did take up the linoleum. The original wood floors were still under it. As for the oven, wizards actually love those. At least, the kind of wizard who would buy a house out here.”
“I’m glad I lived a human life, then…”
“The first thing they teach warlocks to do is generate fire,” I said. “That helps.”
“And witches?”
“Oh, yeah, witches are not encouraged to shoot flames. God forbid the ladies can shoot fire back. We do learn to light and regulate the fire in a range in high school, though. But look! New bathroom!” I converted part of the hallway under the stairs into a cute bathroom with a pale gray tiled shower, a pedestal sink and a cool gold antique mirror I’d found in the attic. The bathroom also happened to have the diamond-shaped window now. It was placed high enough in the wall that privacy was maintained. I painted the wall navy blue.
“The subway tile looks fantastic,” he said.
“It did work, yes. I actually wish I’d made the shower white too.” I sighed. Sometimes, I still made mistakes and kicked myself the whole time I was putting up the tiles.
“Very nice,” he said, lifting a brow. “How over budget are you?”
“Shut your mouth.”
He lifted the bag of subs and nodded at the wine. “Let’s talk over a little of this.”
I already had noticed a corkscrew in a drawer as I was cleaning out the kitchen, and since the kitchen utensils were mostly vintage and nice, I left them all in place. I popped the cork, noticing just how naughty popping a cork seemed when a handsome incubus was watching you do it, looking like he was about to offer to do it himself.
I poured the glasses full and eagerly unwrapped the layers of paper encasing an enticing smell of cured meat, olive, pepperoncini, red wine vinegar and dried herbs.
“They got pretty soggy,” Graham said.
“At this point it’s the tastiest looking thing I’ve had all week. So what do you want to talk to me about? I can tell something’s eating at you.”
“Well…,” he said. “I just made a handshake deal to buy a house. And…it’s not this one. It’s a plantation in Louisiana, and…you’d better talk me out of it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HELENA
I LISTENED to Graham’s story in intrigued silence.
“As far as I knew, only one of the Sons of Pandora had died. That was Byron, and—“
“Oh, what do you know about this, uh, Byron?”
“Uh, Not much, actually. He was a librarian, at a college, I think I heard? But in light of what I know now…” He shrugged. “I tried to track down the other two, and as it turns out, Deveraux died the day we were buying the tile. He has no family in the US. I was seized with this feeling similar to the night I buried Grandpa’s books. Like I knew what I had to do. I needed to buy the house. So I finally got ahold of his granddaughter, and I made her an offer for the house, sight unseen. She told me it’s really run down.”
“Oh, Graham!”
“I know—“ he said, sounding embarrassed.
I slapped the table. “No. This is awesome! I’m sure your gut is correct. We need that house.”
“‘We’?”
“I mean…” I sat back in my chair again. “What would you do with it by yourself?”
“I can’t buy this fucking mansion in Louisiana!” he cried. “I’m in the middle of the campaign of my life in Pennsylvania! This whole thing isn’t a lock, you know, it’s a swing district!”
“What do you want me to do about it? I can’t buy it unless I sell this place for a good profit! Your swing district isn’t my problem!”
“Damnit. I don’t know why I did this, but I’m sure it’s some…wizard thing that I shouldn’t be dealing with.”
“I guess if it’s still for sale in a few months and everything goes well, I can take a look,” I said. “But for now, I’m stuck here.”
Graham looked at me like he knew I couldn’t let it go.
“I’ll show you,” he said, “where I buried the books.”
“Yesss. Thank you!”
“I just keep thinking, what if my grandfather’s death and Deveraux’s death weren’t accidents?”
“They were one hundred years old plus,” I said softly. But Byron’s death didn’t seem like it was an accident. And the Sullivan brothers said the floor upstairs was caving in because of a magical attack, not termites. And I was still infuriated and more than a little concerned that Caleb broke into my house because of a suggestion from the Ethereal warlock council.
It was all pointing at something.
“Follow me,” Graham said. “If you’re ready for a bit of a walk.”
We trudged out through grasses that came up almost to my knees to one of the out buildings and he grabbed a shovel from just inside the creaking door.
Wherever we were going, it was a place he knew. I could imagine the kid in him, and I knew just how it felt, because I had grown up on a rambling property myself, and I knew how it was when you were a kid. The summer vacation days that seemed to last forever, roaming acres that seemed like miles, and finding spots that seemed magical in a way no spell book could tell you.
He followed an overgrown path into the woods. I liked seeing him like this. Maybe I misjudged him when I pinned him as merely a condo-owning watch-wearing elitist. Because I could tell he liked the outdoors too, and there was also something sexy about the way he was striding
