“I could feel it too,” I admitted and looked up at him in earnest. “It was like she was surrounded with this shadow of unhappiness and fear.”

  “When she touched me, I could feel her angst.”

  “Have you ever heard of that happening with other… ghosts?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t believe she’s an ordinary spirit.”

  “Not to mention that you and I appear to be the only ones who can see her.”

  He nodded. “When she touched my face, she felt so solid, but her fingers were deathly cold.”

  “We need to figure out exactly what she is,” I insisted. “If we can answer that one question, then maybe we can determine how to help her.”

  He shrugged my statement off. “Who says we’re going to help her?”

  My mouth dropped open. “How can you say that? After you felt what you did and saw what you did?”

  “It’s not my business.”

  “It is your business because you could see her!”

  “So what?”

  “So that should mean something to you!”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I repeated, feeling like I was about to lose it. “Because she chose to show herself to us—she asked us for help.”

  “She asked you for help.”

  “Angelo,” I started.

  He held up his hands and chuckled. “Jesus, you win.” He took a deep breath. “Now that you’ve won, I think you’re wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “The question you’re first trying to solve.”

  I glared at him and wrapped my arms against my chest. “Okay, what question should I be considering then?”

  “What it is about you and me that allowed us to see her?”

  “Right,” I answered with a quick nod. “How are we different from the rest of the supernatural world that we can see her when they can’t?”

  “You mean other than being superior?” he joked.

  “Yes, Angelo. Other than your superiority complex, what else is different?”

  “Well, we’re family,” he started with a shrug. “I’m guessing that whatever the answer is, it must be related to what we are.”

  “Right, but we’re also demons,” I added. “So maybe that has something to do with it?”

  I glanced at the EMF meter and noted it was still registering a decent level of energy. It gave me an idea. “Hold on.”

  I grabbed the meter and, reaching into Libby’s desk, snatched a piece of double sided tape. Then I affixed the meter to the wall and returned to stand beside Angelo just inside the doorway. The EMF lights returned almost completely down to the zero position as soon as I was out of distance.

  “Hmm,” I said as I walked up to it and it lit up again. Turning to my brother, I said, “Look Angelo, the EMF is lighting up again.”

  “Whenever you get near it,” he said with a nod.

  “So that means it hasn’t been reacting to Rhea’s presence in the office all this time—it’s been reacting to me.” I held the meter up to Angelo and it started flashing. “To us.”

  “That’s silly. We’re not ghosts.” He was quiet for a few seconds as he narrowed his eyes at the thing. “Does it light up around other people?”

  “I don’t know… I’ve been around it whenever I’ve been around other people.”

  He nodded and whipped out his cell phone. Then he was quiet as he studied the screen intently for a few seconds. His lips moved as he read whatever was on the page. Then he lowered it as he looked at me.

  “It’s not supposed to react to human-generated energy.”

  “But it picks up demon-generated energy?”

  “Clearly,” Angelo nodded.

  “Maybe we have that in common with Rhea?”

  Angelo frowned. “Demonic energy?”

  I shrugged. “If she were just a ghost, the others would have seen her and Bea would have for sure seen her. If she possessed demonic energy that set off the meter, that would explain why the others can’t see her.”

  “Or a bunch of other things could explain why they can’t see her.”

  I nodded as I chewed on my lower lip. “Marty mentioned something about spirits being able to choose who they reveal themselves to.”

  “There you go.”

  But, I didn’t buy the fact that Rhea was just a ghost. Instead, I’d boarded the ‘she might be a demon entity’ train and I was going with it. And in going with it, I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me. If Rhea was some sort of demon spirit or entity, there was a good chance the office was in danger. The last thing I needed was for my employees to find themselves possessed by a nomadic demon. Furthermore, the last thing I needed was to find myself possessed.

  True, it wasn’t easy to inhabit the body of a succubus on a normal day, but because I didn’t feed like I was supposed to, I had a perpetually decreased energy reserve. That meant, I was more susceptible than most. Hmm, I needed to give Roy a call soon. In fact, I hadn’t seen him for our feedings in over a week.

  “What was the address of that listing Rhea mentioned?” Angelo asked, pulling me out of my tidal wave of thoughts, which were just about to crash down on me.

  “The Mathison House,” I answered.

  Angelo nodded and started for Libby’s computer. I watched him pull up our inventory of listings. He made a face and swiveled the screen toward me.

  “The house isn’t currently on the market, so I’m not even sure why Rhea said she wanted to go see it.”

  “Hmm,” I said and chewed on my lower lip.

  Angelo leaned down closer towards the screen. “Hmm, looks like Glenn made a note here.”

  “What does it say?” I asked, excitement building within me.

  “It says the owner, Tobias Mathison, called him a few weeks ago and said he was thinking about listing the house. Glenn made a note to call the guy back.”

  “Is there a phone number for him?”

  “Not that I can see,” Angelo responded.

  I nodded as I took a deep breath. “I’ll chat with Glenn about it tomorrow.”

  But, in my mind, I was already considering stopping by Tobias Mathison’s on my way to picking up the pizza. I had time.

  Chapter Eight

  It’s a proven fact that people are more likely to want to help you when you bring them sweets.

  Okay, well, maybe I’d made that up, but I was hoping it would work. That was why I stopped by Sweeter Haunts on my way to Tobias Mathison’s house and personally designed a care package full of fudge, butterscotch cookies, toffee, a few flavors of caramel apples (which they kept stocked year round).

  Even armed with my gift basket, I felt a certain sense of unease as I pulled up to the house. I wasn’t usually afraid of anything, but this entire situation just gave me the creeps. Not to mention, I had a feeling there was a lot more to it than Rhea merely wanting to get into the house. No, the whole thing reeked of something sinister and dark. Or maybe that was just me being dramatic.

  I parked the car and sat looking at the house for a moment before approaching it. All the while, I took deep breaths and tried to calm my heart into cooperating. I just had this sense of foreboding washing through me—what if Tobias had something to do with Rhea’s death?

  How are you even sure she’s dead? I thought back to myself. If she’s an unbarred demon, then that means she was never alive to begin with.

  Fifi, you really have no proof that she’s any sort of demon, at all, I argued back. Better to go with what you think you know and that is—that she’s a ghost. Just a ghost.

  Regardless of just what she was, she wanted something to do with this house, but why?

  Speaking of the house, it was a beautiful two-story, Art-Deco style, with an immaculately manicured lawn, but if you looked closely, you could see signs of disrepair. A few shingles were loose on the roof, and the fence that ran around the back yard had a section that was leaning inward.

  The paint was beginning to fade in some spots and crack or peel in others. There were cracks in the concrete that held the large stone steps together, as well. It was a shame. Most of these items were easy enough fixes—if someone just took the time to give the aging house the proper care and upkeep it required. And, according to Glenn’s notes, Tobias was interested in putting the place on the market—that meant these little repairs would need to be the first things tackled.

  It was almost lunchtime, and I wasn’t sure if Tobias would be home, but it couldn’t hurt to try. If nothing else, I might be able to get a feel for the place. Maybe the reason Rhea was drawn to this house would make itself known. Doubtful, of course, but one could still hope.

  I’d also decided to bring the EMF meter with me, just in case it picked up on something… more than it already picked up when in my vicinity. In this case, though, I thought there might be something… spiritual about this place. Something the meter could detect that I couldn’t.

  Then again, with all the concentrated magical energies called ‘ley lines’ in Haven Hollow (the town was built on a huge net of them), I figured the magical energy in this town was always buzzing. Ley lines were said to carry rivers of supernatural energy. Along these lines, at the places they intersected, were pockets of concentrated energy, that could be harnessed by certain individuals. Certain individuals like powerful spirits, witches, and demons.

  Hmm, I thought to myself. Maybe that’s why the EMF keeps going off? Because the energy of the ley lines keeps setting it off.

  No, I immediately thought back. That’s not why. It’s going off because it’s picking up your spiritual energy.

  Regardless, the ley lines all criss-crossing underneath Haven Hollow was one of the reasons why there were always so many spooky things happening in this town—and it was one of the reasons so many supernatural creatures were drawn here.

  Not wanting to appear creepy by sitting in the driveway staring at the house too long, I stepped out of the 4Runner and walked along the cracking stone steps, up to the house. I couldn’t believe how nervous I felt about coming here, and I wasn’t sure why. It was bizarre.

  It didn’t take long to figure out there was a ley line located directly under this house. I could sense it the moment I stepped through the front gates. And glancing down at the EMF reader in my briefcase, it also could sense the increased energy—the thing was lit up in red, glowing like a demon in heaven.

  With my heart in my throat, I walked up to the door and knocked. Then I waited. All the while, I half expected to leave without any of the answers I’d come here for, but after a few moments, an attractive, middle-aged man answered, sans his shirt.

  He looked exhausted, which made me wonder if he was missing out on sleep due to Rhea haunting him. Of course, I could just be making assumptions. He could have worked the night shift, for all I knew. The better question was: had I just woken him up? If so, that wasn’t going to win me any brownie points.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he opened the door wider to greet me. He smiled at me, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. And with his mussed-up hair and his missing shirt, I had a feeling I’d just woken him up. Whoops.

  “Hi, I’m Fifi Stenham from Hallowed Homes Realty.”

  “Oh,” he said, and seemed surprised. “Hi.”

  As I studied him, I was aware of a general weightiness about him—an air of depression that seemed to cling to him, almost like a shadow—but one that surrounded him fully. And there was something in his eyes—they seemed vacant almost, defeated.

  “Hi,” I said again and gave him a bigger smile, suddenly wishing I hadn’t doused myself with so much repulsion potion this morning. Sometimes I could use my own… power of persuasion to further my interests and this situation was one just such. “I’m here to discuss your property,” I continued. “I understand from one of my agents that you’re interested in listing it soon?”

  “Right,” he answered with a nod. “But not today.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I don’t expect you’re ready to list it today, but I wanted to touch base with you and see what we can do to help get things rolling for when you are ready to put it on the market.”

  “Oh, ...,” he began to say, scratching his head. “Well, I hadn’t really thought about it,” he started. “I was… I was actually sleeping—I, uh, I work the night shift, so I’m not really in the right headspace for a conversation about this… at the moment.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling suddenly mortified for coming at such an inopportune time. “Let me just leave you with this gift basket and my card. You can give me a call when you have time to talk.”

  I put the Sweeter Haunts basket in his hands and he looked down at it in surprise. “Oh, thanks.”

  I nodded and, giving him one last smile, turned to leave. I was already halfway down his front steps when he called out to me.

  “Um, wait a second,” he said. Yep, the basket had worked and I felt myself smile, even if I felt a little guilty about it. “Please come back.”

  I turned around to face him and he smiled a little more broadly, as if regretting his slightly brusque manner earlier. But, still, that general sadness still enveloped him and whatever smile he wore on his face, it seemed artificial. The hollowness in his eyes didn’t seem to agree with it.

  “You’ve come all this way,” he said. “And, I’m up now, anyway.”

  A sense of relief flooded me. “Are you sure?” I asked. “I can always come back later.”

  “No, now is fine,” he answered, nodding and then turned to open the front door wide. “Come on in. I could use the company… and a coffee,” he added with another counterfeit smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  I made my way back up the steps again and walked through the open door, standing in the large foyer as he closed the entrance door behind me and sat the basket on a nearby table.

  “Thank you for the gift basket. That was nice of you.”

  “I hope you like chocolate.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Though he looked tired, he was still a handsome man. His smile lit up his face and his eyes seemed kind, if not sad. And, from what I could tell of his physique (I was trying not to openly stare at him), he was in good shape—lanky yet muscular.

  I followed him inside the house and as soon as I stepped over the threshold, something hit me. It was like this intense feeling of moroseness, heaviness. It was so shocking, I hesitated a moment. The feeling was so heavy that I could actually feel it against my skin—as if I’d walked into a sponge of discontent and it was pushing against me.

  The energy in this place was just—dark. Foreboding. I had to wonder if it was the reason Tobias, himself, seemed depressed. Maybe it wasn’t him I was reading, but the house itself?

  I felt my heart starting to race and my breathing increased as my fight or flight reflexes took over and I suddenly wanted to do nothing but leave.

  Calm down, Fifi, I said to myself. Sheesh, you’re a demon, or have you forgotten? You’re supposed to be okay with darkness.

  But, I wasn’t okay with whatever this darkness was. It was almost too dark.

  Just, take deep breaths and focus on the house, I continued and nodding to myself, I started taking stock of my surroundings, hoping it might get my mind off this strange and unhappy energy.

  Once I could catch my breath and calm my heart down, I realized the house was like walking into a museum. Even though the foyer was simple, the pale mint green paint and the white marble tiled floor made me feel like I’d just walked into another time period. It held only a single hall table, which was off to one side, and beside that stood a full-sized, Greek statue of the female form.

  From where I stood, I could see into the main sitting room, which was much more ornate. The crown molding was a heavy oak, hand carved in traditional Greek style. The walls were painted a deep red, complimented by dark gold jacquard curtains that hung on antique cathedral poles. It was a bit ostentatious for my taste, but I could see where the market for such a property could be. With a few upgrades here and there, this house wouldn’t be on the market long, gaudy or not.

  Of course, I’d have to sort out whatever mystery this house was currently in the center of. And I also needed to figure the source of the heaviness floating inside—I couldn’t help but wonder if your average human would be able to detect the darkness here or if it was just me. In general, I was pretty sensitive to the supernatural—more so than your average supernatural creature. But this oppressive melancholy—I couldn’t imagine I was the only one to feel it. No wonder Tobias wanted to sell the house. I couldn’t imagine spending one night here.

  “Before we start discussing the… possibilities, do you mind if I wash my face and throw on a shirt?” he asked. “You’re welcome to wait in the living room.”

  It was pretty obvious I’d completely put him out—the poor guy was in the middle of his repose, and here I’d come along and barged right in. I did feel a bit bad about that. “I can come back another time—it’s really no problem.” Plus, I did have a pizza get together with Marty and the guys to still plan.

  “Of course not. I’m a little worse for wear from working last night, but I need to get up and tend to some things. You’ve actually done me a favor by rousing me.”

  “Well, then take care of whatever you need to. I can wait,” I told him.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure. What have you got?”

  “I think all I have in the fridge is Coke.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be back in a sec. Just have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” he told me, waving toward an open doorway to one side of the entryway. It led into the living room, what I’d already come to think of as the “red room.”

  I made my way inside and sat down on the large sofa that faced the fireplace, looking around curiously as I waited. My host wasn’t much of a housekeeper—there was a layer of dust coating everything in the room and the dust looked like it had been there for a while.

  The heaviness in the house seemed to culminate in this room and as I sat there, taking in everything around me, it felt like it was beating down on me, pushing against me. My own natural response was to get as far away from it as I could.