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"Why would I rearrange your furniture?" I asked, frowning at him. "I'm only staying here for one night!"

"That remains to be seen," he said darkly. "And I have known witches who thought nothing of changing a man's entire household to suit their whims. I will not have that happening here!"

"Okay, okay! Nobody's redecorating your haunted mansion!" I exclaimed. "Can I at least look at the room before you give me another list of rules?"

He gave me an exasperated look but finally moved aside and allowed me to enter.

Inside was a room right out of a Victorian graphic novel. The high bed had one of those half-canopies over it that stretched up the wall with long curtains hanging down from a central point. The bed itself looked like it was made of mahogany and there was a tall dresser with about a hundred drawers to match it. There was also a dressing table to one side of the room with a dainty little table and an oval mirror which didn't match the other pieces in the room at all.

The spread on the bed was heavy red velvet, and the pillows were neatly displayed. The curtains were drawn to show the full moon outside and all the windows looked clean. For a room in a haunted house, it wasn't half bad, I thought. In fact, it was nicer than most of the hotel rooms I'd stayed in over the years. I was beginning to wonder if maybe the big ghost wasn't such a terrible host after all, despite his bad temper.

"Oh, this is nice," I remarked.

"Of course it is!" Garrik snapped, looking offended that I might have expected anything less. "Blackthorn Manor has always been one of the finest residences in the area. Just because I have been cursed doesn't mean I've allowed the place to fall into ruin!"

With a snap of his fingers, a fire crackled to life in the fireplace across from the bed at once.

"Oh!" I gave a little jump. "How did you do that? And for that matter, how could you touch the doorknobs? I thought ghosts couldn't interact with inanimate objects?"

"Is that right?" He raised one black eyebrow at me. "And where did you acquire this extensive knowledge of the supernatural, madam? From one of those ridiculous stories you modern women are so fond of reading?"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with reading!" I exclaimed, feeling a little defensive. I wondered if he could somehow tell that I had a Kindle full of spicy paranormal and monster romances in my purse. But no, that was ridiculous—how would he even know what a Kindle was? "And it's a perfectly reasonable question," I added.

Garrik sighed as though explaining things to me was a terrible burden.

"I am able to touch anything in my house and on my grounds," he explained impatiently. "I retained those abilities even after I was cursed, so that I could continue to serve as Guardian of the Gateway. And before you ask, no, that does not mean I can simply walk outside and do as I please. I am bound to the physical limits of this property and I cannot leave it, no matter how much I might wish to do so."

"Well, that's too bad," I said, feeling a little sorry for him despite his grumpiness. "But what gateway are you talking about, anyway? What is it you're guarding?"

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Don't you know? I am the Guardian of the Gateway of the Veil—the path between the living and the dead. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Cordelia sent me a witch who knows absolutely nothing about the most basic principles of magic!"

"Hey, don't get mad at me!" I exclaimed. "I told you, I just found out I was supposed to be a witch tonight! And for your information, I didn't even know there was a magical world until I stepped through that weird door!"

"Yes, yes, you've made that abundantly clear," he growled. "Though I must say, it doesn't inspire much confidence in your ability to break a curse that has defeated every other witch who attempted it for the past century."

"Well, if you keep being such a jerk, I might not even try!" I snapped back. "Did you ever think about that?"

He glared at me, his maybe-blue eyes narrowing.

"Do not threaten me, woman! I have spent a hundred years in this cursed state, and I will spend another hundred if I must! I would rather remain as I am than allow some inexperienced witch to meddle with forces she doesn't understand and make matters worse!"

"Fine!" I exclaimed. "Then maybe you ought to explain what you're so worried about instead of yelling at me every time I ask a question!"

For a moment, I thought he was going to start growling again. Instead, he folded his big arms over his broad chest and let out an irritated sigh.

"Very well," he said at last. "I suppose if you are to remain here, you ought to understand the dangers involved. But I warn you, madam, this is not some amusing ghost story to entertain you before bedtime. The Gateway is a deadly serious matter!"

"Okay, okay—I get it!" I said, holding up my hands. "So you keep people from trying to go back and forth between the, uh, land of the living and the great beyond, as it were?"

"As it were," he agreed gravely. "And I was cursed for doing my job too well."

"Too well?" This sounded like an interesting story. I hoped I would remember it when I woke up—I wanted to write it all down. Maybe I would even try my hand at writing a book. After all, I read enough of them, didn't I? And this whole thing with the haunted mansion and the bad-tempered ghost would make a pretty good paranormal romance.

Though of course, if I was going to write a romance about him, I'd have to make the hero a little nicer. Nobody wanted to read about a man who spent all his time growling at the heroine and telling her what to do!

"Yes, too well," Garrik repeated, sounding annoyed that I hadn't immediately understood him.