“I’m sorry about Chaz,” she said. “He thinks this whole thing is crazy.”
“I get it,” said Ian. “I’ll get out of your hair. Oh, and sorry, I had a bit of an accident with the smudge stick in your master bedroom; some of the embers burned through the duvet. Just let me know how much it is to replace it, and I’ll take it off your final bill.”
“Sure,” she said, nodding. “So it went well?”
“The house is clear, Astrid. You can be at peace here, live your best life, and grow your family.”
She smiled, offered him an uncertain nod.
“I watched you last night a couple of times,” she said. “On our security cameras.”
“Oh?”
“You saw him, didn’t you?”
The color was gone from her pretty face, and it scared Ian. He reached across the wicker table for her and took her hand. “Did you make a deal with him, Astrid?”
She shook her head, glanced uneasily at the door to check for Chaz, then back to Ian. “I knew better. I’ve heard of him before. When I was a kid, a couple of girls stabbed another girl. They said he made them do it so that they could go live in his mansion.”
Since he was a kid, the story had grown and spread. It was all over the internet now, pictures of the Dark Man—most of it hoaxes and fiction. He scrolled through every now and then, remembering that night in the woods.
“I knew he’d give me what I wanted. But that the price would be too high. That it would hurt someone else, maybe. And I didn’t want that. But he wouldn’t leave. Just kept lurking in the corners, in my nightmares.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She made her eyes big. “I never imagined you’d believe that. I thought I was losing my mind. I was terrified people would think I was crazy.”
“How did you get my number, Astrid?”
“My friend Elenie,” she said. “When I was at my lowest, my most frightened with this, I went to a party at her place. She’s a Reiki healer, and she could sense my energy was off. I confided in her, and she gave me your number.”
How long had he tried? Ian wondered. How many connections had the Dark Man made to get to Ian?
“He’s gone now,” said Ian.
“How?” asked Astrid.
Ian didn’t answer, just looked down at her small hand still in his.
“Ian,” she said. “You didn’t make a deal with him, did you?”
“No,” he said. “Of course not. This is what we do. We cleanse spaces, ask negative forces to leave, free trapped memories and dark energies. The only thing you have to concern yourself with now is being happy, growing your business and your family. Astrid, you’re free.”
Astrid started to cry. “Thank you, Ian. Thank you so much. I feel it. I do.”
She followed him around as he gathered up his equipment and showed her the talismans he’d left around the house—she loved that bit. Then she showed him out. Chaz had shut himself in his office and didn’t come out to say goodbye. What a dick. He didn’t deserve someone like Astrid. Maybe she’d figure that out at some point.
Ian was backing out when she tapped on the window. He rolled it down.
“I hope he gives you what you asked for,” she whispered. “And that the price isn’t too terribly high.”
He thought about denying it. But what was the point?
“Me too,” he said. She turned and disappeared into the house.
Back in the house he used to share with Liz, he dropped his bags and got himself a beer from the fridge because there was nothing else in there. The house was a wreck; Liz would be so mad. She took such good care of this place, always cleaning, decorating, improving. She was a homemaker, a creator of happy spaces and bright energy. Their house had been no exception. He’d get it all ready for her. He’d get it cleaned up, just the way she liked it.
When he sat down at his computer to check his email, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find a communication from Matthew Merle. Subject line: Hey, buddy, it’s been a minute. Matthew was nothing if not direct. I need a favor. Think you could work some of your magic here at Merle House? Btw, I’m broke. So can I get a bro discount? Free food and lodging until the job is done? And a chance to finish up some old business. Let me know what you think. ASAP.
He answered right away, because it was best, he knew, to take care of things quickly. Not delay.
I’ll be there tomorrow.
He’d clean up here and get some rest. In the morning, he’d head back to Merle House—and to Havenwood. He was aware of nothing so much as an overriding sense of relief, as if finally, after all his gyrations and running around, running away, he was finally going home, where he belonged.
The story continues in part three of Lisa Unger’s HOUSE OF CROWS, Circling the Drain.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Unger is the New York Times bestselling author of Confessions on the 7:45 and many other books. Her short story The Sleep Tight Motel and her novel Under My Skin were nominated for the Edgar Award, and her story Let Her Be was selected for The Best American Mystery and Suspense.
