Red House Read Online Free

something else, my thoughts turned to Blake. I’d met him four months ago while on a case. He was the sorcerer who conjured the evil entity I was hired to get rid of, which should have made him a bad guy. I had plenty of excuses for not hating him, though. The fact that he was lied to, the fact that he wasn’t malicious, that he made me feel more alive than any other man I’d known. I left him asleep after the only time we made love to go deal with that evil demon problem, and I hadn’t seen him since. He disappeared with no indication he might return. If I could stop thinking about him all the time, stop dreaming about being in his arms every night, maybe I could forget him. Clearly he had no interest in me.
    I tossed half a piece of uneaten toast in the trash, angry at myself for wanting a man who didn’t want me. Whatever kind of problem this new client had, I hoped it was a doozy. I badly needed the distraction of work.
    * * * *
    Mrs. Julia Epps was an energetic sixty-something, impeccably turned out in a cream skirt suit accented with tasteful jewelry and a handbag worth more than everything I was wearing. What impressed me most was her hair. She had the kind of former beauty queen hair I wished I could mock, but really I was jealous of it. Thick and lustrous, jet black with a lovely wide streak of gray down the left side, it fell down her shoulders and back in a long graceful wave. How did she get it so smooth? Was it a product sold at a store, or would I have to bargain a piece of my soul to get my hair to do that?
    I took a sip of my cappuccino and focused on what she was telling me.
    “Maple Hill has been in my family since before the Civil War. It’s had its ups and downs over time but after my late husband and I moved back home from California, we were able to restore it. It’s primarily a bed-and-breakfast now but we also host various functions in the ballroom from time to time. It’s a popular place for cotillions and fundraisers.”
    In addition to her hair, I wanted her voice. Mrs. Epps sounded like central casting’s version of a genteel Southern lady, elegant and refined. If she’d ever dropped a G in her life I’d be shocked. “What sort of problem have you been having, ma’am?”
    “Well, first it was flickering lights. I called an electrician but he said nothing was wrong. Then the pipes started making strange noises. Of course I called a plumber. Once again, nothing wrong.”
    “Have you ever felt a sudden drop in temperature anywhere in the house?”
    Mrs. Epps nodded as she sipped her coffee. “Yes, quite frequently lately. Once again, I called a contractor to take a look at the central air system.”
    “But nothing was wrong.” I pushed my glasses up. “Have there been guests in the house since this started?”
    “At first. As these things began to happen, guests complained.”
    “Has anybody seen anything? Any of the guests or the staff talk about seeing anything that seemed strange?”
    A very deliberate pause. She fiddled with the diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist for several heartbeats. “A few people said they saw things moving in the shadows, in the dark at night.”
    She was leaving something out. “What else?” She drew her mouth into a thin line, eyes avoiding mine. “Mrs. Epps, did you see something?”
    “There are cats.” Her voice low and strangled.
    “Ma’am?”
    Mrs. Epps cleared her throat and met my gaze. “I have a weakness for strays, especially cats. There’s always at least two or three living in the shed behind the house. One had a litter recently. I found homes for all but one. I wanted to keep a little calico as my own. I named her Dixie.” She had to pause again. I had a bad feeling about where this was going.
    “Did something happen to Dixie?”
    “I had her in the house with me. We were alone in the parlor at night. The lights flickered, the room got cold. Very cold.” She leaned across the table and grabbed my hand. “There was