Until now, a week after Jess had shown up at his bar to meet the world’s worst online date.
He stared down the street as the sunlight seeped from the sky. No snow covered the ground, but the dropping temperatures suggested a light dusting wasn’t far off. No tourists sauntered down the sidewalk toward the old, Gothic-style house. Few people visited at this time of year, and those who did would prefer to drink inside than take walks in the cold.
Usually Niamh would still be manning her rocking chair on her porch, her pile of stones orderly and within arm’s reach. That woman had great aim and good distance. The police had shown up dozens, maybe hundreds, of times to warn her away from throwing rocks at people…
It was a wonder they never arrested her for it, although she typically only targeted curious tourists (Earl being the exception). Most of the trouble in this town came from visitors, or at least the trouble the human police were expected to fix, so maybe the officers were grateful to her for scaring off strangers. Hard to say.
Niamh’s absence meant she was otherwise occupied. Austin had come from the bar and her usual seat was empty. She didn’t shop, preferring to pay people to deliver groceries, therefore she must be at Ivy House.
Had she gotten the normal command, the one he was so good at ignoring, or had hers been a plea, too? A desperate need for help.
Begging.
He let out a breath, willing himself to start up his Jeep and head out. He was nearly positive the summons hadn’t come from Jess, but the change in potency, and the genuine worry he could feel riding the wave…
He let out an agonized breath.
It had sunk down deeply and grabbed the roots of him.
If Jess was in some kind of trouble, he wanted to help. She was fighting for her place in this life, and he’d be damned if he’d turn his back on her. He wanted her to succeed with everything in him. She’d been forced to start over, and instead of slinking away like he’d done, hiding in a small town that posed absolutely no challenge for his skill set and experience, she’d reached for the stars.
It was commendable. She was commendable. She’d shown him that life didn’t end in the middle—chances could still be taken, new opportunities embraced.
Seeing her accept her new role, and all the baggage that came with it, had inspired him to make changes of his own. Once she was squared away and safe, whether the house released him or not, he’d move on and finally become the alpha he was meant to be. He’d start again, and this time he’d do it right.
The huge house sat within its magical shroud of shadow, pushed back from the street and laughing at him. It had figured out the right tactic to get him to do its bidding.
He hated that damn house.
“Is this the way to madness?” he asked himself in the quiet Jeep. “Is pitting oneself against a magical but ultimately inanimate object what made the others crack?”
Because cracked they had. None of the other guardians could be mistaken for sane, and he might be well on his way to joining them.
Another throb of desperation rattled through him from the house, from Jessie—or at least about Jessie—breaking him down beat by excruciating beat.
“Fine.” He stepped out of the Jeep, still no doors or top regardless of the season. He never felt the cold. “You win this battle, but I will win the war.”
And now he was talking out loud to a house.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “So help me God, if I start asking people to randomly call me by a different name, that’s it. I’m out.” He walked up the drive, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness his one-sided conversation.
Blooming flowers leading to the large front door saturated the air with a lovely fragrance. Edgar’s prowess as a vampire might’ve faded with time, but his green thumb surely hadn’t suffered. Austin didn’t think vampires had any magical growing power—if anything, it seemed like the opposite would be true—but no other flowers were blooming in town, it being winter. He must’ve done something to keep these in a constant state of springtime.
One foot on the tweed mat, he put his fist up to knock, ignoring the iron gargoyle-head knocker.
The knob turned, and the door slowly swung open. No one stood inside.
If tourists really knew what this house was capable of, no way would they come looking.
Fighting the heebie-jeebies, he stepped across the threshold and looked around the empty and silent space. Two doorways on either side led to front-facing sitting rooms, both empty. Beyond, two empty stairwells curved up to the second floor, forming an archway, through which an empty hallway led to the back of the house.