Page 65 of Monsters in Love

Plus, based on her litany of required updates, it would take a lot of power to get this place up and running, and I have no idea what kind of witch Anya is. She doesn’t have the gravitas of Mary or Celeste, or even Rose, Celeste’s mother, which makes me think she might lack their skills, but it’s hard to tell with Americans, especially one as young and modern as she is. She’s so chipper and friendly, even when I try to discourage it—I can’t get a handle on her at all. On top of that, she’s oddly likable, which makes me uncomfortable.

I can’t afford to like her.

One thing is certain: I cannot allow her to turn the manor into a bed and breakfast—at least, not yet. The idea of strangers crawling all over the home like insects is enough to make me ill. I only have two choices—find what Mary Winslow stole from me two hundred years ago, or come up with a way to stop Anya Winslow in her tracks. Preferably both.

I cannot (and would not) harm her, of course, but there must be some way to change her plans. In time, I suppose I could get used to sharing the manor with her. But I will never adapt to sharing it with an endless stream of strangers, humans who would no doubt fear me and spread malicious rumors about my kind. It would force me to live in hiding, and my life is sad and empty enough as it is.

I’m still working—to no avail—when Anya returns an hour later.

“You really don’t like me, huh?” she says.

“Hmmm?” Engrossed as I am in my research, I barely hear her.

“Well, I’ve been here a day and you’re already desperately searching for a way to break the curse. Presumably so you can leave. Am I that bad to be around?”

“What?” I put down the book. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“No?”

“Of course not. I’ve been researching ways to break the spell for years.”

She sits across from me, a curious expression on her face. “Why? I mean, I understand that being cursed is no picnic, but as curses go, it doesn’t sound so bad. You just have to live on and in this house, right? Is it so terrible?”

I shake my head in irritation. “You do not understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I was taken from my home, against my will. Transported across an ocean. Forced to serve as protector to strangers in a strange land. And cursed so that I could never leave, never see my home or family again, doomed to always live in the shadow of my greatest failure.”

She blows out a slow breath. “Okay, when you put it that way, it sounds bad. I’m sorry that happened to you. I didn’t realize how unhappy you are. Of course, I barely know you, so it’s understandable…”

I sigh. Her tendency to ramble is irritating. All I want is peace and quiet so I can continue searching for a counter spell.

“Well, if it helps, you might get your wish sooner than you think,” she says.

I look at her sharply. Has she found a way to free me? “What do you mean?”

“It turns out Aunt Celeste worked something wonky with the deed and mortgage. I have two weeks…nope, make that thirteen days to come up with nearly a hundred thousand dollars, or else the house will be foreclosed. There’s a property developer—who’s a real dick, I might add—already lined up to buy the place. He plans to demolish the house. There’s no way I can get the money in time, so as soon as the house is gone,poof! The curse is broken and you’re free of my family forever.”

“What?” I ask in horror. “The house will be demolished in less than two weeks?”

“Well, probably not. It would have to transfer ownership and stuff like that. But within a couple of months, yeah.”

“We cannot let this happen!” I yell.

She blinks at me, no doubt startled by my uncharacteristic outburst. “I agree, but there’s not much I can do about it. I don’t have the money. And I have to say, this is not the reaction I expected from you. I thought you’d be happy to be free.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Without the house to physically hold you here, you can go. Return to France or whatever.”

“You don’t understand. If the house is demolished, I will not be set free. I will die with it, forever bound to Mabon Manor in whatever form it takes. I will crumble into dust.”

A horrified expression settles across her face. “Are you serious? You’re bound so tightly to the house that if it goes, you go too?”

I nod.

“Well, hell, that’s a problem. Unfortunately, probably not one I can use to extend the timeline on the payments. Imminent death of house gargoyle isn’t a common or believable justification.”

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