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CHAPTER 1
There weren’t many smells that possessed the power to rouse me from a deep sleep, but bacon was one of them. I untangled the covers from my legs and ventured downstairs to the kitchen to investigate. Addison Gray sat on the counter, legs swinging, while Nana Pratt, one of my resident ghosts, cooked bacon in a skillet.
Addison’s gaze swung to me. With her lustrous brown hair and symmetrical features, she was what my grandmother used to call ‘comfortably pretty.’ The type of beauty that tempted men yet didn’t feel threatening to other women. Even the colorful tattoos that covered every inch of her visible skin suggested ‘artist studio’ rather than ‘biker bar.’
She whistled at the sight of me. “Wow, that’s a serious case of bed head.”
“Good morning to you, too,” I said, although there was no warmth in it.
I wasn’t sure why I was surprised to see the elderly ghost frying bacon instead of my living, breathing houseguest. So far, Addison had demonstrated a severe allergy to anything that resembled work, despite our agreement that she’d pay for room and board and help with household chores. In exchange, I wouldn’t kick her ass to the curb. To be fair, I should’ve done that the second she cast a shadow over my front porch. Addison was an avatar of Aite, the goddess of mischief and ruin. She’d lived up to her name when she tried to serve me up on a silver platter to her former employer, The Corporation. I lucked out when the organization of godly avatars showed more interest in punishing Addison for her transgressions against them than her tales of an unidentifiable supernatural living off their grid in Fairhaven, Pennsylvania.
It was still unclear what possessed me to take pity on her. Probably something in the vein of there but by the grace of the gods go I. Maybe if Addison had been fortunate enough to be raised by people like my grandparents, she wouldn’t have shackled herself to an evil organization.
“Eggs are next,” Nana Pratt chirped. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Always.” I looked at Addison. “Did you even offer to help?”
“I’m telling her stories of my misspent youth while she cooks,” Addison replied. “Somebody’s got to bring the entertainment. For a house with ghosts, this place is shockingly boring.”
“And we like it that way.” Ray Bauer, resident ghost number two, drifted into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Ray,” I said.
Addison aimed a flirtatious smile in his general direction. “Morning, sunshine.” She’d quickly adapted to my seemingly one-sided conversations with the ghosts. To the manor born.
“What kind of eggs would you like?” Nana Pratt asked.
“Scrambled, but I can cook them myself.”
“Don’t be silly, dear.”
“Fried, sunny side up,” Addison piped up.
Nana Pratt shifted the bacon to a plate to cool. “I was only talking to Lorelei.”
“You can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs,” I quipped. “Pops used to say that.”
“My dad used to say you can’t scramble any brains without cracking a few skulls,” Addison said.
We stared at her in abject horror.
She slid down from the counter. “Okay, fine. My dad never said that. It was me.” She paused. “I learned it from my mentor at The Corporation.”
“Do I even want to know who that was?”
She examined her nails with casual disinterest. “Enyo.”
“Goddess of bloodshed.” I nodded. “That tracks.”
“She was such a character, I swear. I miss her rants the most. Good times.” Addison smiled at the memory. “Nobody destroyed a city like Enyo.”
“The perfect epitaph for her tombstone,” Ray grumbled.
I was relieved when Addison sat at the table and shifted her focus to the food, so I didn’t have to endure any more of her special anecdotes. The more I heard, the more I understood why she was unhinged.
Addison crunched a piece of bacon. “Do you have any hot sauce?”
“No.”
