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“Funny. Here.” She slips one of her many necklaces over her head and passes it to me. “My abuela gave me this charm to ward off bad spirits.”
“You keep it.” Believing in ghosts, monsters, or magic to keep away evil? That’s not me. Plus, I refuse to separate her from anything that her beloved late grandmother gave her. “We’ve got this.”
“Truth.” She rattles the bracelets circling both her wrists, the rainbow of colors beautiful against her light brown skin. “I have my crystals. Nothing’s coming for us.”
Nerves have a giggle bubbling up through my tight throat. “I bet it’s actors inside with prop chainsaws and bad soundtracks of creaking chains and cackling witches.”
But Rosemarie doesn’t laugh. “This place is for real haunted. I checked out the history of it for the past century, and plenty of people have gone missing from the house and the grounds. Suicides or accidents, mostly with the cliffs, but some murders, too.”
My breath catches, and my chest goes tighter than Val’s body con dress. “Crap on a creep cracker.” Great, now I’m spoofing my mom’s favorite curse—solid proof of how scared I am. “We’re touring a friggin’ homicide house?” I stay far away from true crime, forensic shows, or anything else guaranteed to leave me checking the closets and under the bed before I sleep. “Why would they even offer that as entertainment?”
“Money, silly. The same reason anyone does anything. The haunted house and horror industries are booming. A corporation called Underworld snapped up this real estate last year at a bargain price and plan to open it in the fall.” She eyes the bigger of the two gargoyles as if memorizing the chiseled details. “Thanks to Ava’s lawyer mom, we get to preview the place.”
Lucky us. I don’t say the ungrateful obvious out loud. Not when she sounds as though she might sell a kidney to poke around the creepy house. Rosemarie has had some super shitty luck recently. Today’s trip brought her the first excitement that I’ve seen from her in a while. Her eyes sparkle with the mischief and curiosity of her old self. I can’t deny her whatever fun she’s anticipating.
Looping my arm through hers, and making sure not to step on her extra-long boho skirt, we head up the path toward the others.
“Finally,” Val teases with a fake, put-upon air that’s a spot-on impersonation of her celebrity mom.
“Let’s see if we can’t scare Val first,” I whisper to Rosemarie, who smiles a real grin. None of my friends would admit fear. I’m the scaredy cat of the group. The eerie vibe of the house in the growing darkness has me studying the vines along the wall as if they’ll unknot and attack at any moment.
Ava clacks the old-fashioned door knocker against the wood, and we wait, the nerves buzzing in my stomach harder by the second.
Still not too late to back out. I count the steps between here and the car.
The door swings open, light spilling from inside to silhouette the figure standing there. Blinking away the sudden blindness, I focus on the gorgeous face framed by bronze and golden hair. The guy’s six-foot-something and way too pretty to be real. With cheekbones and a jaw carved from granite, dark eyebrows, and an appraising gaze that hints equally at seduction and mischief, he sets off every don’t trust him alarm in my head.
Perhaps it’s my mom’s warnings to stay away from spooky stuff. Or it could’ve been tonight’s memories of the asshole who made me doubt all my decisions. Either way, the primitive part of my brain screams one word.
RUN.
2
MEG
“Welcome to the Underworld,” the hot guy drawls. “I worried you wouldn’t make it before nightfall.” The way he says the last makes it sound like he’s three-hundred-something instead of maybe thirty years old. Did the corporate suits train him in old-timey dialogue to add to the house’s creep effect?
“That’s my bad,” Val says on an almost purr. “I chose the scenic route.”
“As did everyone else,” Ava adds. Of course, she’d suggested the quicker freeway instead of the coastal highway after consulting multiple traffic apps. “Sorry about the delay.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “We can still have the tour?” No one ever tells her no. I’m not sure if it’s a superpower or something she learned in the womb from her attorney mom.
“Of course. I’ll be your escort tonight.” He makes escort sound all kinds of sexual, and my body goes warm with a blush that I don’t want. He wraps the welcome in sensual energy so thick it practically coats the air in honey stickiness, and I fight the urge to shrink deeper into my hoodie. “I’m Theo.”
Huh, I expected him to break out a steamier name like Alejandro or Dimitri or Zane, but his teasing come play with me tone has its own allure. My friends see this player for the potential fuck boy that he is, right? I shoot a quick look at the others to assess how quickly we can take off and leave Theo and his creepy house behind.
But no, Val stalks past him into the foyer or lobby or whatever rich people call their front room. Mom and I never ranked more than a shabby two-bedroom apartment, and the cozy space worked for us. Before I can yell at Val not to make us the real-life version of a horror movie, Ava goes into boss babe mode, tucking her purse under her arm and walking inside—head held high and expression neutral—like she’s going to a board meeting to tear apart some unsuspecting tycoon.
“Come on,” Rosemarie whispers with a last glance at the scowling gargoyles. “We can always back out later if it gets weird.”
“What do you mean, if it gets? We passed weird the moment Val drove through the iron gates.” But I follow her inside, not flinching when Theo locks the door behind me. He has his hand extended toward the room to our right, and I bite back a sigh that it’s a library and not some torture chamber with an ax murderer.
Two fancy couches with large, rolled arms and deep button tufting flank a rug that looks like it came from a museum or a castle somewhere in Europe. Ava perches at the edge of the one on the left, her pastel dress popping in stark contrast to the dark brown leather. I run my hand along the butter-soft top of the other, inhaling the comforting scents of oak mixed with beeswax.
Theo rounds an antique desk, the shine of its polished wood reflecting odd shapes from the candlelight that gives the room a vibe that’s more romance than horror. “You’re our first guests—”
Val interrupts him. “Then let’s get this party started. Bring on the scary.”
“Patience.” He sounds as if he knows he’s asking a lot from her, but he shoots her a sly grin as he takes something from the desk drawer. I almost expect a grimoire, but nope. He pulls out a plain electronic tablet. “First, I need you to sign liability waivers before I subject you to anything that gets your blood pumping or heart racing.”
