Nightfall (Grim Gate 1)

“You’re not freaked out?” Harrison comes into the room holding what’s left of his burger.

“No. Are you?” I pull a blanket over my legs, eyes feeling heavier by the minute.

“Slightly. Are you going to eat your fries?”

“You can have them.” I pat the couch and Hunter jumps up next to me. I put the blanket over him and close my eyes. I swear only a minute passes, but the next thing I know, Harrison is shaking me awake.

“I’m gonna head out. Get up and lock the door.”

“I will in a minute,” I grumble.

“No, you won’t,” he laughs. “I already let Hunter out one more time for you, and the ghost wasn’t there anymore.”

“Thanks, Har.” In the back of my mind, I know he’s right. I need to suck it up, get my butt off the couch, and see him out. But my eyes fall shut again.

“Annie.”

“Okay.” I lazily throw the blanket back and get to my feet. “Thanks again, Har.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not that often you actually ask for my help.”

I smile. “It is nice having you come to the rescue, though it really wasn’t a rescue. Just a ride home that saved me from paying an Uber.” I make a face. “Board is due next week for Mystery.”

“You got expensive taste, sis.”

“Mystery is worth it.”

“Night, Annie. Make sure you lock the door.”

“I will. Night, Har.” He steps out and I close the door, shooting the deadbolt into place and then putting the chain lock in. “Come on, bud.” I pat my leg and Hunter follows me into the bedroom. I left Romeo out while I was at the bar and find him curled up on the center of my bed. I change into PJs and move him over and slide under the covers, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Hunter’s wet nose presses against my cheek. “What are you doing?” I grumble and roll over. He jumps on the bed and lies down on me, all his weight pressing me against the mattress. “Hunter, stop—”

My doorbell rings, and I shoot up. I always get a little freaked out when someone rings the doorbell or knocks. I never answer unless I know who it is, and my mind gets away from me, thinking that whoever is at the door now thinks no one is home and it’s a good time to break in.

Though Hunter is a pretty good deterrent. He’s larger than the average German Shepherd and has that classic Shepherd bark that’s deep and menacing. But right now, he’s staring at me, wagging his tail.

“Who’s here?” I ask, thinking it has to be my mother or Harrison or someone Hunter is familiar with. He bounds to the door, waiting for me to open it, and runs through the house. I put Romeo in his cage and trudge my way to the front of the house. I haven’t been awake long enough to know if I’m hungover yet or not, but I’m still tired.

Hunter is waiting by the door, sitting patiently. “If it’s Harrison checking on me, he better have brought me a latte,” I grumble, pushing my messy hair back. Yawning, I unlock the door and gently nudge Hunter aside so I can open it.

A man in a mud-brown suit is standing on my little covered stoop, clutching a leather briefcase. He startles when he sees me. The feeling is mutual, buddy.

“Can I help you?” I blurt, regretting not looking out the window to see who was at the door before opening it. Hooking my fingers under Hunter’s collar, I expect him to bark, or at the very least, growl.

“Anora Benson?” the man asks.

“Um…why?” My pulse starts to pick up and for some reason I think I’m about to be sued, though I’ve done nothing wrong as far as I know.

“My name is James Pearson,” he starts and hands me a business card. He is a lawyer. Oh god, I am being sued! “I was your great-aunt Estelle’s lawyer. I’m very sorry to inform you that she has passed.”

Wait, what? At least I’m not being sued, right?

“Oh. How, um, sad,” I force out, knowing I need to say something. “When?”

“Early Friday morning.”

I just nod, still totally clueless why Aunt Estelle even had a personal lawyer and why he’s here, all the way in Syracuse, New York to tell me that she’s dead. A phone call or even an email would have sufficed.

“Your aunt left everything to you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, remembering I did a crappy job taking my mascara off and no doubt have black rings under my eyes. “Everything of what?”

“Everything she owned. I have all the paperwork here.” He pats his briefcase. “Consider it your inheritance.”

“But she was my great-aunt,” I blurt. “And she left it all to me?”

“As you know, she had no children to leave her fortune to.” He smiles nervously. “She spoke highly of you.”