Red House by Sonya Clark Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes was matched by the sensual energy flowing between us. Was he doing that, directing energy toward me, or was it something that happened between us organically? Like the way magenta flared in his aura when he was turned on, or the way molten heat pooled in all the parts of me I wanted him to touch.
    I had to get this under control before we really did wind up half naked and sweating in the back seat of his car. Grabbing the tickets, I looked them over. “Hey, it’s fireworks night.”
    “It’s always fireworks night with us.” He grasped my arm to lead me down the steps. I managed not to gasp, but he could tell he’d hurt me and that there was a bandage on my arm. “What happened? Are you okay?”
    “It’s nothing. Just a little accident.”
    He stared at me. “You sure?”
    Did I want to talk to him about my explosive experiment? Of course, but at that moment I found myself more curious about the Blake who would take a girl to a baseball game than the Blake who practiced dark magic. A conversation about magic might be a little too welcome, a little too seductive, and I really wanted to keep my head for as long as I could. “I’m fine.” I went down the steps, hoping he would follow and take the cue to not worry about my arm. He did follow me down the steps at least. “So you really like baseball?”
    “Hey, I can’t be Master of Darkness all the time.” He opened the passenger door of his car but stopped me before I climbed in. Tilting my chin up, he kissed me slowly, his tongue teasing just past my lips. “I just want to take you out, that’s all.”
    “Let’s go, then.”
    We had our normal night out, which had a gentle magic of its own. He even bought me a teddy bear in the team gift shop. By the time I fell into bed, alone and exhausted, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Blake acted like a perfect gentleman all evening. The content of my dreams suggested parts of me were very disappointed. I didn’t know what to make of this strange new creature, Blake the Sweet Sorcerer. It was interesting to see this side of him but I couldn’t help but wonder, who was he trying to convince that he could be this nice normal guy–me, or himself?

 
    Chapter 5
     
    Maple Hill Bed and Breakfast was twenty minutes southeast of the city. Turning off the highway onto the long driveway felt like slamming into a brick wall, metaphysically speaking. I hit the brakes, glad Mrs. Epps's sedan was in front.
    A thick oppressive blanket of dark energy enveloped the property. I followed Mrs. Epps up the drive to the house. The grounds were dotted with tall sugar maples and mimosas and there were two colorful flower beds on either side of the front entrance. We parked at the side of the house and walked to the door. I detoured out into the yard, wanting to take a look at the energy signature of the house. I stowed my glasses in their case and dropped it in my backpack, then took my first good look at Maple Hill.
    “Oh…damn.”
    “What is it?” Mrs. Epps approached, twisting her keys nervously in her hands. “Are you seeing something?”
    “The house, it’s–” I stopped, struggling to both find the words and the calm that had been severely damaged by what I was seeing. “It’s like it’s wrapped in this angry, powerful energy. It’s red. The house is red, Mrs. Epps.”
    In my experience it was completely normal for buildings, both public places and private homes, to keep traces of leftover energy from the people and spirits who inhabited them. It could tell someone like me with any kind of psychic sensitivity a lot about the history of the building and the people associated with it. This cloak of shimmering red was telling me whatever spirit had taken up residence in this house was made of hate and would not go quietly.
    “What does that mean?”
    I didn’t want to tell her. She could read the answer on my face, though. “Well, then.” Her mouth settled into a grim tight line.