Page 32 of Signed in Incubus

There wasn’t anything else I could do about the photo now, so I moved to the last and most stressful messages: namely, the ones where my mom reiterated what an embarrassment I was to the family and asked how I could throw away something with Travis for some good-for-nothing playboy I found at a club?

Prax was particularly offended at being referred to as “probably a useless pauper who’s only interested in you for money.”

The last message said that I was “grounded” (gimme a break) and included a link to a plane ticket to Boston, together with a very firm, “You’d better be on that flight or else.” Then they said that a real estate agent was heading over with potential tenants to see about renting out the house.

“Holy shit, they move fast,” Lily said. “I can’t believe they already have someone in there to look at the place. It’s been all of four hours since that article was posted.”

I checked the time at the corner of my screen. “Oh fuck! I gotta go. They’re going to be there in like, ten minutes. I left my clothes on the bathroom floor after my shower—underwear still inside my leggings and everything.”

A quick portal later, I was back in my living room. Shit, shit, shit! They were already outside.

“I’ll go delay them,” Prax said. He’d followed me home. “You go pick up your unmentionables and…maybe get changed.”

Right. I’d totally forgotten that I was still in my clubbing clothes.

He popped out of existence, and I ran up the stairs to make myself presentable. I quickly cleaned up and threw on my favorite shark t-shirt—the hammerhead one with the wordsIt’s Hammer Timeacross the back—and jeans before peeking through the blinds.

A sweet little old lady was standing in my front yard, chatting to the real estate agent and a very normal-looking couple. It took me a moment or two to realize it was Prax in little old lady form, complete with a floral patterned babushka and a cane. Prax really did enjoy his cosplay.

The couple was hanging off of grandma-Prax’s every word, their eyes round as dinner plates, but the real estate agent looked downright annoyed. I wondered what was prompting such differing reactions.

I headed back downstairs. Since I was here anyway, I might as well start packing everything I’d taken out back into their boxes. I sure hoped I had enough time to find a place to rent before someone moved in. Knowing my parents, they’d take a slightly lower rent to get a tenant right away to force me to come home.

They’d probably already put a limit on my card, too, giving mejustenough to make it to Boston.

It wouldn’t work this time, though. I was done playing their games.

The doorbell finally rang, and I went to open it, but the door opened before I got there. Dwayne, the real estate agent, must have a key. That was kind of creepy. What if I was changing?

“Oh. I didn’t know you were home. Your parents said you were heading back to Boston.”

Ugh! I was in my thirties, but everyone still treated me like I was a teenager.

I smiled politely. “My parents are mistaken.”

Chapter 16

Prax

The real estate agentand the couple did not stay long, especially not after I pretended to be the little old lady next door who’d outlived several of the people who had resided in Penny’s home. I told them I was sure the house was haunted because anyone who stepped foot in it went slowly crazy.

The real estate agent denied it, of course, but I made up lurid stories of previous owners telling me they had heard voices and other creepy things. Then, once they were inside the house,I popped in and masqueraded as everyday objects, following them around and making strange whispers and creaking sounds everywhere they went. It was kind of fun, actually.

When they asked Penny if she’d experienced anything weird in the house, she said she was pretty sure there was an incubus watching her shower and sleep. I mean, it wasn’t a lie.

The real estate agent had glared daggers at her. I bet her parents were going to hear about that later.

After they left, I helped her pack up anything she’d already taken out of boxes. We were close to done when I got a call to help out at the museum since one of the afternoon guards had fallen ill. Darlington Museum was special in that most of the artifacts in it were actually owned by Desmon himself. They were part of his extensive hoard and were rotated out seasonally for visitor variety. The museum was always extra busy after things had been switched out because everyone wanted to see the new displays.

You’d think working as an on-call guard at the museum would be one of the more commonplace jobs I’d done for Desmon, but it wasn’t. The last time I’d taken a job at the museum, it was to help track down a missing artifact. That had ended up being a memorable adventure, complete with an evil wizard, powerful magic, centuries-old secrets, and even family betrayal.

“Go,” Penny said. “I’ll be fine on my own. The house is warded, and I won’t open the door for anyone, I promise. You can’t watch me twenty-four-seven.”

I didn’t want to leave, but she was right. I left her my cell number so she could contact me if necessary.

Darlington Museum was filled with both magical artifacts and non-magical but historically significant ones. Instead of usual museum thieves looking to steal goodies to sell to unscrupulous collectors with private collections, we had to worry about other dragons or powerful wizards coveting the dragon’s treasures. Those were the ultimate private collectors.

Desmon could have avoided all this by hiding all of his treasures away instead of letting the public see them, of course, but he thought that sharing them with the world was important because if the world knew they existed, they could have a price put on them. Sure enough, since the fall of The Wall, historians and other collectors had been coming to see his treasures, giving something that once only sat there, unseen by human eyes, a monetary value. As a result, Desmon’s net worth grew as the items gained value.

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