Macyntire & Hough (A Paranormal Romance) (The Macyntire & Hough Saga)

by Franklin Kendrick

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk where a stepladder was set up beneath the overhang, and made his way up with the sign. He hung it from the fancy steel arm that reached out over the entrance.

  When he came back down they both admired the sign. It swayed lightly in the early October breeze.

  “I have to admit, that looks very professional,” Tadin said.

  Shelley looked over at him, a grin on her face before she poked a finger into the area where his ribs would be. He jumped back and thrashed his arms around.

  “Hey! I thought I told you that tickles!”

  “That’s what you get for teasing me earlier!” she jabbed at him again, but he was too fast for her. “You’re lucky I sensed you that first week.”

  “Is that right?” Tadin stood in front of the gallery door.

  “It is. If I hadn’t noticed you, then you’d still be sitting up in that lonely apartment by yourself. What kind of destiny would that be, huh?”

  She brushed her hands off and peeled as much of the now-dried paint from her fingers as possible.

  “Lucky for me,” Tadin said, “I now have a new purpose, besides keeping a bunch of old furniture company. Sewing machines are very bad at conversation.”

  For a minute, Shelley thought he was going to put an arm around her. He moved to, and then let his arm drop back to his side.

  “I have a strange suspicion this place is going to be very busy in the next few days,” he said.

  “Let’s hope so,” Shelley replied as they went back into the store to close up.

  She took a tiny diamond ring from the countertop and tucked it in her pocket. With Tadin safely in the shop with her, she locked the door, dimmed the lights, and led the way up the stairs to their apartment.

  Chapter Two:

  Tuesday - 9:45pm

  Haures Grantley took a large gulp of ‘Winter’s End,’ the darkest beer on tap in Achaia. He could savor that beer all evening and never want for another — it was delicious, with a slight hint of chocolate and almond. This is the way to start off the week, he thought. His eyes slid shut in appreciation.

  Tuesday nights were the most opportune time to enjoy a pub like Achaia. For someone of his complexion, the low-key and low-light atmosphere of the wood-and-brick pub was relaxing No sunlight, no busy streets. Just music and dark Belgian beers while he went over his ledger. The lights were dim, the wooden counters were dark, and the music was acceptable.

  He set his glass down and scanned the half-filled columns in his leather-bound ledger. There was work to be done.

  Before he became too engrossed, a smooth female voice spoke up behind him.

  “Mr. Grantley?”

  An attractive red-haired woman stood behind him. She was dressed casually in jeans and a maroon blouse beneath a light jacket. A pair of pink-rimmed glasses framed her eyes.

  He smiled and set down his pen.

  “Miss Quimby,” he got to his feet and shook her hand. “I see you found the place all right.”

  He motioned for her have a seat next to him and she obliged with a smile.

  “This is a very strange place to hold an interview,” she said, folding her jacket over her arm. She seemed to pay more attention to how she looked than how the conversation was starting.

  She might be the one, Haures thought.

  “I like informality,” he told her.

  “Well, you aren’t exactly dressed casually.” She was obviously wondering why he chose to dress in a black business suit and crimson tie.

  “Candice,” he started, amused by her observance, “when you get to be my age, you come to appreciate the routine of wearing a suit and tie. It saves me so much time in deciding what to wear. For me, this is casual. Here, let me take your jacket.”

  She thanked him and he laid the light material over an empty stool.

  “From your advertisement, I was expecting someone younger.”

  “You read too many romances, then,” he gave her a small wink. “Would you like something to drink before we begin?”

  “That’s alright. I’ll just have a sparkling water.”

  The water was requested and arrived shortly thereafter. Haures settled in as Candice took a sip.

  “I made the classified sound as if I were young because in the past I have not been very well received by the interviewees.”

  “So I’m not your first candidate?” She raised a brow.

  “No, you are not. I’m very particular with the people I employ. Most of the other girls were not impressed with my standards.”

  “Well, perhaps they weren’t mature enough.”

  “Perhaps. What do you expect, from the advertisement?” He leaned forward and folded his hands on the counter.

  “Well, as a personal assistant, I expect to do all the menial tasks that you require. Cleaning, paperwork, organization; Maybe even some driving.” A smile formed on her lips. “And coffee.”

  “Everyone hates the coffee duty,” Haures laughed. “I can assure you that I don’t drink much of the tonic. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is, with my profession.”

  This must have peaked her interest because Candice turned to face him more directly, tucking some locks of her bobbed cut behind her ear.

  “About that,” she started. “What exactly is it that you do? Maybe it was your job, and not the coffee run, that scared all these women?”

  “Normally I’d prefer not to discuss the topic with a candidate, seeing as there’s nothing really stopping you from walking out that door and damaging my reputation,” Haures said, pretending to take an active interest in his half-empty glass of beer. “Rumors are like house flies. They never seem to disappear. However, since I like you, and you seem more professional than my last three candidates, I suppose I can disclose something about my work.”

  She leaned towards him slightly, as if to listen closely to a whispered secret.

  “I am a collector,” he said. “Essentially.”

  “A collector? You mean like a debt collector?”

  He shook his head.

  “No. I guess, without giving too much away, I collect one of a kind pieces. Things you can’t replace.”

  “Artwork?” Candice coaxed.

  “It really is safer if you don’t know the details.”

  “Why can’t I know?” She appeared much more intrigued than the others before her, who were more concerned with simply landing a high profile job than they were about ethics. “You’re not part of the mob, are you?”

  “Oh, please, no,” Haures laughed slightly. “You flatter me, no. I am simply a hunter of rarities, and it really is just a matter of required information. The less you know, the less likely you are to let slip details of my private collections and put its welfare at risk.”

  “Fair enough,” Candice said. “I expect to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be paid enough to make up for the loss in your curiosity. Might I ask, what is your experience with high-profile employers?”

  “Well,” she folded her hands on the counter, “I worked as an assistant to the head of the Humanities department at USM, so, I know my way around an eccentric.”

  “What sort of things did he require you to do?”

  Candice flipped her hair out of her face and laughed.

  “I’ll put it this way: The man needed his ass wiped all the time. I think he must have been one of those sons who still lives with his mother, even though he’s in his forties. I did everything from his groceries, to correcting his student’s term papers. I even mastered forging his signature.”

  “Well,” Haures was impressed. She had a sense of humor — that was certain. She also seemed like she was tough despite her petite frame. “Let’s just say you won’t have to correct any term papers under my command. However, there are a few things I will require that you may find bizarre.”

  “Alright. I’m ready.” She watched him expectantly.

  He straightened his jacket, then continued. “
Contrary to your first impressions of me, I don’t lead a very sociable life. As you can see, this sort of occasion is my typical night out. A dark beer and a quiet pub. Consequently, I do not have a circle of friends. Someone with my eccentric tastes does not have many associates, and I can assure you that the only conversation I have is generally with my employees or the people that I do business with. Thus one of your tasks will be to share conversation with me when I ask.”

  Candice raised an eyebrow.

  “It won't be forceful. I don’t only talk about business! I just enjoy intelligent conversation — like the kind we’re sharing now. Also, since I do not drive a vehicle, your other task will be to drive me to my appointments. If you cannot do these things, then I will continue my search for the right candidate.”

  He reached down into his briefcase and pulled out a stapled contract. He handed it to her and she flipped through the pages. They were covered almost claustrophobically with text.

  “You’ll need some time to read through it, so please take it with you,” he told her. “I’m not in a rush, but I’m eager to have reliable help again.”

  The phone in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out and checked the number.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I have to take this. Do you need a cab or anything?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  “Please do,” he smiled at her. “I really hope this isn’t the last we see of each other.”

  With that, he threw a ten on the counter and hurried out into the crisp evening to answer the call.

  “Well?” He said, stopping at a quiet spot away from the bustle of other pedestrians. His protegé, Pyro, answered.

  “We found him. He’s in town.” Some wind picked up and nearly drowned Pyro’s next few words in a fit of static. “Do you want to meet in person to discuss the rest?”

  “Absolutely. Where are you?”

  “On the corner of Franklin and Commercial.”

  “Wait there. And don’t be seen this time.”

  He shoved the phone in his jacket, picked up his briefcase, and started briskly towards Commercial Street. The journey was downhill so it wasn’t long before he arrived.

  The corner was illuminated every ten feet or so by streetlights and seaside restaurants. Pyro lurked in the inky corners of the stone buildings, but after a moment, Haures spotted the young man. Though he had the body of a man in his twenties, there was nothing mortal about him. He sauntered down the sidewalk, dressed in khaki pants and a loosely fitting white button down shirt. A pair of pearly white, spiral ear gauges matched the shirt.

  “It’s true?” Haures cut immediately to the chase. “You really found Tadin Hough?”

  “Would I lie to you?” Pyro answered with a snarky look. “Unless there’s another Tadin Hough I didn’t know about.”

  A chill wind picked up from the ocean and Haures folded his arms across his chest.

  “Don’t be cocky. I’m really not in the mood for games.”

  “Why?” Pyro folded his arms and cocked his head to one side.

  Always so leisurely, Haures thought bitterly. It unnerved him that his co-conspirator in the mortal world was so blatantly nonchalant.

  “How did it go with my replacement?” Pyro asked when Haures didn’t respond.

  “She’s not your replacement,” he stared off at the dark clouds hovering over the bay area. “She’s our suspect.”

  Pyro raised his eyebrows. “You think she’s the real deal?”

  “It seems that way. And if I can trust you this time, she should out herself all on her own.” Pyro had a horrible history of sabotaging Haures’s projects. “You know my full trust of you ended about two years in, when you pulled that stunt with the Williams girl.”

  “Hey — that was all Verin’s idea!” Pyro held up his hands, backing away a step, but the grin on his face betrayed him. “I still can’t believe you fell for that one. She was pretty. But what you thought she saw in you, I’ll never know.”

  “Well, she’s on my shelf now, the same as Tadin Hough will be soon. Where did you find him?” He looked around, half expecting to find Tadin standing out in the open.

  “He’s staying in an upstairs apartment not far from here. Right down the street, actually.”

  Haures felt the rush of excitement build within him. He rubbed his hands together and didn’t bother suppressing his grin.

  “How did you figure that out?” he asked.

  “It was stupidly easy. I can’t believe it was this hard tracking him down all this time. He was standing outside on the sidewalk.”

  “In plain view?”

  Pyro nodded, his mouth drawn up on one side, as if he were suffering a bitter taste.

  “Not even bothering to stay concealed in the astral plane?” Haures was stupefied. Not only had he been hunting Tadin since the week the pitiful man passed away, but, Tadin managed to give up absolutely no sign of his existence whatsoever. Most spirits were overcome by their curiosity to explore. Who wouldn’t be curious now that they could walk through walls? But not Tadin.

  “Well, he finally cracked,” Haures adjusted his stance on the uneven brick sidewalk. “He has my admiration for fighting the cabin fever all these years, but I knew staying in one building for so long would eventually break him. He was very adventurous in life, according to my files. What was he doing? Testing the boundary?”

  “No,” Pyro glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to find someone eaves dropping. “He was having a conversation with a woman.”

  Haures was shocked. This case was vastly different from all the previous ones he’d dealt with. Never in his entire career had he seen a spirit having a conversation with a living, breathing human. Those sort of encounters hadn’t happened since biblical times! Not only was it abnormal, but it also showed that Tadin was stronger than originally assumed. Did he really have the ability to remain visible for long stretches of time. Most spirits only managed to appear as a shadow, or a blur. Maybe a rustle of papers — but never an actual fully-formed being.

  “So, what’s the plan, boss man?” Pyro asked. “Are we collecting him tonight?”

  “No,” Haures brought a hand up to his lips. “No, I have a better idea. He’s not going anywhere in a hurry unless someone moves his engagement ring. There’s still time. Maybe enough time for some fun.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Pyro grinned. “Who should I send?”

  “Send Aleister,” Haures said. “He’s been begging me for some fun.”

  Chapter Three:

  Tuesday - 11:30pm

  Tadin was very relieved to be back in the apartment. Shelley had no problem working down in the gallery, but it made Tadin very nervous. There were too many windows. He felt much more at home in the bedroom, seated in the armchair, watching Shelley wind down for the night. The apartment consisted of a kitchen, living room, a small bathroom, and, of course, the bedroom. After her nightly routine, Shelley curled up in bed with her beloved, if a little senile, black cat, Kismit, (Tadin hated that name) and dozed off with a book still in her hand.

  As she slept, Tadin got up from his seat and walked over to the edge of the bed — not to watch Shelley, but to see what she had been reading. Careful not to wake her, he reached down and slid the book from her limp hand.

  It was a romance, of course; the kind with two people kissing passionately in each other’s arms on the cover. This one had a picturesque beach that was way too bright. Corny as the cover was, the couple looked a lot warmer than Shelley’s room felt right now.

  A chill breeze drifted in through the window. Even with Fall threatening to change to winter at the drop of a hat, Shelley still kept the window open at night until the last possible moment.

  He was just settling into a worn copy of Great Expectations when he felt a dramatic shift in the temperature. It felt like someone had just opened an ice box.

  Sitting up in the armchair, he glanced around the room.
For a second he thought it was just his imagination, that the sudden cold was natural. But, then he looked over to the window and saw a figure standing outside.

  “Hello, Tadin.” The figure’s voice was raspy, reminding Tadin of an old newspaper machine that needed grease.

  He set his book down on the end table and tried not to make any sudden movements.

  The figure wasn’t human by any means, though it was definitely male. Tadin encountered many variations of the same, but this creature was a lot taller than most, standing nearly five-and-a-half feet tall. Normally they were four feet at most. Instead of skin, this creature was cloaked in bubbling, burnt flesh with the consistency of melted linoleum. His face looked like a deformed goat, with horns protruding from a crop of stringy hair.

  The creature was unmistakably a demon.

  “What are you doing here, Aleister?” Tadin said, getting to his feet. “I haven’t seen your hideous mug in a long time.”

  “Yes,” Aleister said, his face twisting into a disturbing grin. “Not since you passed, all those years ago. I was wondering where you’d set up camp.”

  He took a step forward until his head poked through the curtains, and Tadin heard the sound of hooves on the fire escape outside. Kismit hissed up on the bed.

  “That’s far enough,” Tadin said. He didn’t know exactly what Aleister was doing peering into Shelley’s bedroom, but normally with demons, they only came for one thing, and that was to collect the souls of the dead — and occasionally torment the living. If Aleister was here for him, he could try and run for it. If he was here for Shelley, there wasn’t much he could do to fend off a demon on his own.

  “Not nervous, are you?” Aleister asked. He reached out a three-fingered hand and stretched it across the room, waving it in the air a few inches above Shelley’s bed.

  “I said that’s enough,” Tadin stepped forward this time, fists clenched. “You’re not allowed in here without permission.”