Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(14)

This was a lot. There was just so much wrong with this place, and I was only in the front room.

“Snap out of it,” I muttered to myself.

I wasn’t a quitter. I couldn’t be—I had to make this work since I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Anyway, my trip to the village this morning made me want to live in Charming Cove. I’d felt more at home during my few hours on Foxglove Lane than I ever had in London. And no matter how bad this house looked now, it was my home.

I could feel it.

Problem was, the house didn’t agree.

“Are you a ghost?” I asked the empty space around me.

There was no response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a ghost. Maybe it was playing a more subtle game. Didn’t matter—I would beat them at it.

I headed toward the door at the far end of the room, entering an old kitchen that looked like it had been built sometime at the beginning of the last century. It was going to need to be completely redone, no question. Through the back windows, I could see the remains of what had once been a glorious garden. It was in seriously bad shape, of course, choked by weeds bigger than I was.

The bathrooms weren’t any better, and I didn’t find a single room that wasn’t horrible. Some of them might have been fine, but the stench was enough to make my eyes water and colored my opinion of everything.

“You don’t feel very well, do you?” I asked the house. “Is there a ghost bothering you? A curse?”

Beneath my feet, the floorboard popped up underneath the rug. I tumbled to my butt, landing hard on the gross old carpet. A cloud of dust poofed up, and I coughed. Behind me, a bathroom door slammed, the noise so loud it made my head hurt.

“All right, all right!” I wasn’t afraid, exactly, but I also wasn’t stupid. Whatever was in here wanted me gone, and I didn’t want to get on its bad side. “I’m leaving. But I want you to know that I’m coming back, and I’m here to help.”

The house seemed to groan again, almost in frustration. Like it wanted to be left alone. Well, it was out of luck.

I climbed to my feet and brushed off the seat of my trousers, then headed to the front door. The floor beneath me shifted, ejecting me through the entryway. I stumbled, nearly losing my footing, then whirled around to glare at the house. “I get it, okay? You’re grumpy. But I’m going to fix that.”

The door slammed in my face.

“Rude.” I turned and headed down the hill. I needed to find a way to fix that house’s mood, stat. It wouldn’t be safe to work there until I got a better handle on what was happening inside.

Poa waited for me at the door to the boathouse, lounging in a patch of sunlight. Her orange, white, and black fur gleamed beautifully, and she squinted up at me through the bright light, her gaze going to my shortened hair. That’s a new look.

“Do you like it?”

Yes. You look less Little House on the Prairie.

“Um, thanks.”

How did it go at our new house?

“Fantastic,” I said wryly, looking back up at the place, which seemed to glower at me. “You didn’t want to see for yourself?

She gave a wheezy laugh, which I supposed was the best a cat could do. No. I knew it would be a nightmare.

“More like a ghost.”

Do you think?

“I don’t know. But I’ve got no skill with the dead. I know where to find someone who might, though.”

Who?

“There was a coven in town. I saw the sign on my way to the salon. They should be able to help me.” Covens weren’t the whimsical groups of forest witches that human fiction depicted them to be. Rather, they were businesses formed by groups of witches to help others solve their problems. There were plenty of supernaturals who couldn’t do magic, like werewolves and vampires and witches who had ignored their own skills for too long.

I looked at my phone, realizing that it was almost five o’clock. Time had passed more quickly than I’d realized while I checked out the house. The coven probably shut their door at five, but if I hurried, I’d make it there in time. I looked at Poa. “Want to come?”

She scrunched her face. There’s only a little sun left. I’m not leaving this spot until its gone.

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged. “There might be a handsome tom there, though.”

Pass. She rolled over so that her white belly faced the sun.

I grinned and hurried to the car, then drove back into town. I found a parking spot right in front of the coven storefront. As I climbed out, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text came through from Tommy, then another and another. I deleted all of them, then blocked his number. He hated being ignored, and I loved the idea of how irritated he would be.

The thought put a pep in my step as I walked toward the Aurora Coven, reveling in the wild autumn day by the sea. The wind had whipped up even stronger, and as the sun neared the horizon, it was cooling off. On the sea, the whitecaps tipped the waves, and most of the birds had abandoned the sky.

Inside the Aurora Coven storefront, the room was cozy and welcoming. A fire burned in the hearth, and two witches sat in cozy armchairs in front of it. Bookshelves and plants filled the space, and I immediately felt at home.

Both witches smiled as they stood. One was tall, with long blond hair, and the other wore a pretty scarf tied through her dark curls.