The Key To Eternity E-Book

Simone Beaudelaire

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

From the moment she arrives in California, architect Lia knows her working trip to the west coast is a disaster. The company that hired her seems determined to discredit both her work and her professionalism, and how can she blame them? The house she’s renovating seems different every time she looks at it.

Lia’s only consolation is Aiden: the sexy stranger she meets on Venice Beach. Though not prone to casual flings, Lia is unable to resist Aiden’s hypnotic lures, until what seems at first like a source of support quickly devolves into another conundrum.

As mystery piles on mystery, even Lia’s own nature comes into question, as a dark force seeks to claim her for its own evil ends.

Joined together with new friends and old, can Lia find enough strength to confront the monster that threatens them—and the very fabric of the universe?

This book contains graphic sex and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

Leseprobe

THE KEY TO ETERNITY

SIMONE BEAUDELAIRE

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 Simone Beaudelaire

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by D.S. Williams

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

This book is dedicated to Sandra. You’ve transformed my view of myself, and I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am. Gracias, lady.

CHAPTER1

Lia passed the full-body scanner at the airport and gave the finger to the camera on the wall. “I hope you enjoyed the view, asshole,” she said under her breath.

The guard by the scanner gave her an apologetic smile.

She closed her eyes halfway, but smiled back, shaking her head.

Stepping into her sensible travel shoes, she picked up her wheeled travel bag and headed to the plane. It was a long trip from Chicago to Los Angeles; she had a good nap ahead.

Lia’s eyes opened when she felt the pang in her stomach, and her ears started buzzing. The plane glided for a minute and then dived again. She pinched her nose and blew to stabilize the pressure in her ears, gritting her teeth in discomfort.

The wheels thumped when they touched the ground, and the pilot took the big bird to an easy stop.

Lia fumbled her key in a keyhole that refused to catch. She sighed. So far, everything has been fine, but now the door doesn´t want to open. It’s laughing at me, that’s it.

She shook her head when she realized what she was thinking. This isn’t like me at all.Ever since my boss told me about this trip, I’ve been feeling off.

She tried again, keeping her breathing under control. The key clicked and the door opened. Finally!

She entered the dark space and probed the wall for a light switch. The living room of her home for the next few weeks came to view: tan walls, high ceilings and crown molding painted white. Two paintings of abstract geometric patterns hung on the walls. The brown leather sectional that faced the 80s style gas fireplace, with its tarnished brass fixtures, did nothing to brighten the space.

Lia brought in her wheeled suitcase and closed the door. Something feels wrong.

“Oh well. It’s only a month or so,” she reminded herself to dispel the uneasy feeling. “What if it looks like a cardboard box? I´m not here to stay.” Oops, she realized. My cat’s not here, so I’ll have to keep the self-talk to the minimum.

She carried the bag to the nearest bedroom and tossed her carryon with her sketchpad and pencils in it onto the bed. Sending a quick text to let her supervisor Jerry know she’d arrived, she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Afterwards, she felt almost human and decided to call Clarissa. Her best friend answered at the second beep.

“What took you so long?”

“I needed a shower.”

“Ah. Yeah, sticky is bad. So… everything peachy?”

“Yeah, you could say so.”

“Don´t bullshit me. What´s going on?”

I should never sugarcoat anything with her. She sees right through it all. “Nothing. Not really. The condo looks like a cardboard box and gives me the creeps, but, nothing.”

“Mmm. I´m laying down a short Tarot spread for you. Hang in there. I see problems, and maybe even danger, but oh, so much fun in your future.”

Lia snorted. “Yeah, right. You see what you want there. You don´t fool me.”

Clarissa chuckled. “I know. That´s how it works.”

Lia smiled. She always finds a way to make me feel better. “All right, big day tomorrow. Better go to bed.”

“Night. Don´t forget to brush… and use condoms.”

Sure. Not that I’d mind a fling but… She looked down at her plump body and bit her lip, humor fading. “Bye, Clarissa.”

“Bye.”

Lia felt a pang of angst as she entered the meeting room. She found eyes focused on her, and none of them looked friendly.

“I see you finally decided to join us, Ms. MacArthur,” one stranger greeted her sarcastically. Short with a bald head and a round belly to match, the man’s jaw had clenched in irritation.

“I´m sorry,” Lia answered, sitting in the only empty chair, close to a tall, thin man with tan skin, dark hair and threatening dark eyes. Yuck! I would hate to have him behind me on a deserted street. “I was told that the meeting was 9:30. It’s 9:20. Am I missing something?”

“Yes, you are, Miss MacArthur. It’s 10:20. You are one hour late.”

“What? How?”

“The time zone…” Lia’s head shot up and she took in Jerry, her supervisor. He looked at her, an apology lingering in the crinkled corners of his eyes.

She looked at her watch again. 9:20. “I set my clock last night. I used the…” She remembered that she had never checked the clock at the townhouse for accuracy. She just assumed it had the right hour and synchronized her phone with it. “I used the clock in the apartment to set mine.”

The tan guy raised one eyebrow. “Excuses?” His lips curled into a smug grin.

Lia swallowed. This jerk. Oh, my God.

He leaned forward, waiting.

Arguing won’t help me… and why would the clock in the apartment be one hour wrong? Not twenty minutes. Not three hours and seventeen minutes, but exactly one hour wrong… She drew in a deep breath. This was intentional. She firmed her jaw. They won’t get rid of me this easily, even if I have to pretend to be humble just to get through this meeting. “Right, I apologize. It will not happen again.”

“We certainly hope not, Ms. MacArthur, because we take punctuality very seriously. It shows what a person is made of. You will not have a second chance,” the tall man said. He grinned, showing white teeth with unaccountably sharp canines.

Lia received the comment as a punch in her stomach. Heat, pain and anger climbed all the way to her mouth. She bit down on her lips. Nice girls don´t tell tall, tanned, disgusting and dangerous what he deserves to hear. Nice girls eat it with fries and start looking for another job the same day. Unlike his colleague, this man was tall, even seated. His medium-brown skin gave her no particular indication of his racial background. Middle Eastern? Latino? Italian? Or just a WASP with a tan? At any rate, his faint hint of a smirk is disgusting.

“Don’t worry,” she answered through gritted teeth. “If at any future meeting I don’t arrive on time, it’s because I got a better offer and decided to move on.”

Jerry Walker, her boss, opened his eyes wide and looked at her apologetically.

He should have stood up for me, saying that at Burton and Burton, they’re proud to have me, yet he’s letting these people push me around.

“Lia, this is Earl Lancaster, CFO of Van Zandt enterprises,” he indicated the thin rude man, “and general manager and CEO of the Los Angeles branch, Mark Moravian.”

“Charmed,” she lied, gritting her teeth.

Moravian sulked, but Lancaster grinned back, and she shuddered.

Lia´s favorite latte materialized in front of her eyes.

“Forgive me, please?” Jerry´s voice trailed from behind her.

“Only for my latte, Judas,” she scolded and took a deep gulp of her drug of choice. Only then did she look at her supervisor. Fiftyish, though not unattractive, with a cap of silvering light brown hair, a medium build, and cheekbones that would stand the test of time, his face had twisted into lines of supreme contrition.

He broke eye contact, lifted his cell, and swiped nervously a couple of times. “I emailed the bosses saying that this job is not a good idea. These guys scare the shit out of me.”

Lia read the words on Jerry´s phone, which he’d shoved right under her nose, while he spoke, and sure enough, he’d requested the owners of Burton and Burton consider ending their association with Van Zandt enterprises, due to the extreme hostility of the CFO and CEO.

The owners had kindly and professionally responded that Jerry should suck it up and get back to work.

Wonderful way to show trust in your employees, she thought bitterly. Are we people or just a paycheck to them?

Grumpy at Jerry, the job and the office manager, Lia snapped at the only person within reach. “I don´t know what to say about that. Choosing assignments is not my job. Mr. Short and Angry Moravian and Mr. Tan and Nasty Lancaster have told me I’m on thin ice. This place may suck ass, but I like my job in general, so I’m going to sketch and ignore you now. Go do something useful with your life. I have work to do.”

Jerry snorted at her tough-girl persona and she went back to her plans.

At noon, Lia felt uncomfortable, turned around and there he was. Tall, Tanned and Disgusting had stepped right up behind her, close enough to touch her back, without saying a word. His deep eyes bored into her.

“Is it anything you wish to discuss, Mr. Lancaster?” she asked, not even trying to be nice. What a creeper. I have every right to be pissed.

“Not really. I’d just like to extend to you an invitation. We’re taking Jerry out for lunch at the beach. The bistro has a nice view of the jetties and the building you’re so hasty to tear apart.”

She gaped. What on earth is he talking about? I’ve barely started my plans. All they’ve seen is my pitch… which they selected and approved.

Not knowing whether to feel excited for the lunch at the beach or upset over the derogatory comment, she bit her lip. What is it with this guy? Why is he so determined to pick on me?Well, I’ll take a hard pass on that one. The bistro will still be there when I’m done. “It´s alright. I have work to do. I´ll just grab a sandwich.” Take that, creep.

“No, Miss MacArthur. It is a business lunch, and Mark sent me to escort you. You will come… unless you want to miss your second meeting?” The man smirked, and Lia wanted to smack him so badly that her hand already hurt in anticipation.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Are you always so annoying, or you are making an exception for me?”

He gave her a once over and his smirk grew. “No, darling. You do not have anything that merits special treatment.”

Lia felt heat rising up her neck. This is too much. Okay, so at size sixteen—eighteen at that time of the month—I’m not swimsuit model material. I’ve been teased for being a fat girl before, but no one has ever made me feel so humiliated in my life. She wished so much to be one of those fast, snappy women, but she wasn´t. Her tough persona could only take her so far. In situations like this, where she wanted to curl up and howl, it abandoned her.

His insulting gaze turned to intense scrutiny, and then some sort of dawning awareness. A wicked grin spread across his face.

Her cheeks flared red while she got up, took her purse, and walked ahead, trying hard to keep her head up and not swing her curvaceous hips too much.

The bistro had a beautiful ocean view. Lia could see the jetties and the sea lions in the distance. The air smelled like salt. A shack in pitiful condition sat in the middle of the beach, breaking the ambiance. Other than that, it was a dream place for a bed and breakfast.

People in varying states of undress walked the street as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A juggler showed his amazing skill, throwing and catching running chainsaws. Lia had never seen so many weird characters in one place. Venice Beach is definitely a world in its own. Her mind started spinning with details that would make her project blend and, at the same, become iconic in this eclectic place.

She craned her neck and looked carefully at the location of the building—the light, the ground, and the dimensions—as much as she could from the bistro. A Victorian manor house, which looked as if it hadn’t been updated since it was built, hunkered across the street from the beach, its peeling paint and cracked windows forlorn. I’ll have a closer look before going back to the office.

There’s beauty in its bones, though, she thought. With some love, and a historical registration, people will line up to stay here. She stared harder. Wait, wasn’t the carport on the right? Wasn’t that bay window on the left?

Her breath caught. The picture in front of her was not the same as the one in her plans. Nothing I’ve done so far is going to work; I have to redo my sketches from scratch.

“Sure, no problem. We can have the final proposal for next Monday. We have it almost nailed by now.” Jerry´s voice intruded in her consciousness.

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Something to say, Miss MacArthur? Isn´t the Burton and Burton star architect able to finish the proposal in time?” Earl sneered, smiling his oily smile.

“I would,” she said spitting her words, “if I had been provided with accurate information. Look at the building! Everything is wrong!”

“What are you talking about, Lia?” Jerry gave her the look. She knew that look. It meant do not discuss anything in public.

“Nothing,” she muttered. “I need to see the building up close. If you’ll excuse me…”

Lia lifted her head from the plans she’d been working on all day, trying to fix the differences between reality and the material she had received. She examined the measurements and pictures her people had taken two months before, and they supported the information provided.

It’s so weird, almost as if the place rotated and twisted. How could the terrain change?

True, Los Angeles had been built near a fault line, and the land could undergo seismic shifts, but what about the building on it? Wouldn´t it break apart if the land underneath just changed its shape? Yet, there it was, in one piece, but different. Like magic.

A creeping sense of emptiness crept up her spine, and she realized the office the building team had provided for her use was deserted. Her computer marked 6:30 local time. She shivered and the hair on the back of her neck lifted. She had no idea why.

Fear gripped her, and she couldn´t stay a minute longer. This is a problem. How am I going to finish the project in the time projected if I can only work regular hours?

Unable to resist the compulsion to leave, she gathered her papers. Fine, I’ll work at the townhouse.

She remembered Mr. Tall, Tanned and Disgusting, and her angst grew. She could almost see his eyes like black pits, boring holes in her soul. The uneasy feeling grew even more, touching the dangerous border of hysteria.

“I have to get out of here,” she muttered. She picked up her bag and some papers and ran out of the office, forgetting half of the material she needed to go on working at home.

It’s almost too easy,” Mark said out loud, chuckling as he made threatening clawing motions over the surface of the onyx orb they used to harass people. “She’s so susceptible. A few more days of this and she’ll be running for the hills on her own. Poor, poor Sarah will just have to keep looking for another way to get rid of us. A way she’ll never actually find.”

“Wait,” Earl said, sliding open the hidden panel that concealed the inner network of passages of rooms from which they observed—and sometimes harassed—visitors to their workplace.

“Wait for what?” Mark demanded. His face began to grow hot, and he could feel Hulk mode lurking around the edges of his awareness. “You agreed with me. Burton and Burton could not be involved in this project. Particularly not their young rising star, who has such a knack for ‘feeling’ buildings. If she gets her hands on the house, think of what we lose!”

“Oh, I know,” Earl replied, his voice oozing oily charm as always. “She will never be allowed to order a single renovation. However, have you taken a good look at her?”

“She’s fat,” Mark scoffed. “Not ugly, but definitely too pudgy for my taste.”

“No, you fool,” Earl snapped. “Don’t you ever look beyond the surface? She’s not just pretty. She’s… she’s unique. I’m not sure what she is exactly, though fully human, or even human with abilities doesn’t cover it. Something more powerful than her the air energy rising from her makes me wonder. She of our world, yet not. I think she might be the key.”

Mark’s red face went pale. “Are you sure?” he demanded, surging forward in his comfortable office chair. The mundane seat with its plastic arms and synthetic upholstery clashed terribly with the black velvet tablecloth before him, the black walls painted with esoteric symbols. Only the glaring fluorescent lighting made sense, and they only tolerated that because the dull gleam of their crystal ball required copious light to flash.

“No,” Earl admitted, and Mark sagged in disappointment, “but I don’t think we should run the plumply powerful Miss MacArthur off until we do know for sure. It would be a shame to be so focused on guarding what we have, that we forget to look for what we need.”

“What do you propose?” Mark asked.

“Don’t worry,” Earl oozed. “I have an idea.”

In the corner of Venice Beach, not too far from the jetties, sat a tumbledown shack. The weather-beaten boards had become warped and twisted from exposure to the salt and sun and water until it seemed impossible that anything other than magic held it together. It was too much of an eyesore even to be picturesque, and many people walking by tutted at its disgraceful condition and lamented its impact on the view.

Inside, a disgusting, moldy-looking tarp covered a gapped and peeling wood floor. It was so horrific that even the bravest of teenage boys on a dare could scarcely be compelled to touch it. No one ever moved it aside…

Well, almost no one.

The Dark One kicked the tarp aside with the toe of his boot. Underneath, a cleverly concealed trapdoor in the floor could only be opened by one with specific knowledge of the combination of spells and traditional locks concealing it.

The door sprang open under his knowledgeable fingers, revealing a rickety staircase heading down into the darkness. Light flared on the Dark One’s fingertips as he descended.

At the bottom, the detritus of black magic—candles, a goat skull, and other, viler objects, not good to mention aloud or even ponder too deeply—littered a small room. In one corner stood a small cage with iron bars and an iron plate for a floor and ceiling. A nude man huddled inside, his skin deeply burned. He crouched on a piece of burlap, desperately trying not to tip over onto the floor. Rail-thin and haggard-looking, his reddish hair hung around his shoulders, greasy and matted. His turquoise eyes shone bright as lamps in the dim basement.

“Hello, Roark,” the Dark One said in a teasing, seductive voice.

The man bared his teeth but said nothing.

“Oh, come now, friend. That’s no way to greet me. Have you finally become an animal altogether, or is there still a sentient being in there? I’ve come with an offer for you. Would you like the opportunity to get out of that cage?”

The man made a growling noise, and then paused, considering. He looked at the Dark One with curiosity.

“Good. I see you’re listening. I have a very simple task for you. Do it for me, and you’re free…”

CHAPTER2

Lia picked her way along the jetties, not wanting to cut her bare feet on the rocks. Despite the risk, this was still the safest way to get close to the water. No shoes, not even sneakers, could grip the rocks the way her bare toes could. In the little low-heeled sandals she’d worn to work today, she would have broken her neck.

She slowly lugged her heavy blue backpack from rock to rock until she was quite a ways from shore, reaching the large, rather flat boulder she’d been seeking. Sitting on the wet, slippery rock, she pulled out her sketch pad and pastels and began attempting to capture the brilliant turquoise of the water, capped with creamy foam at the shoreline, intensifying to a deeper blue out to sea. The low-hanging sun created a golden pyramid on the water, and the darkening sky almost perfectly matched the waves. A gentle breeze wafted over her, bringing a strong aroma of fish and sea. While some people might object to the scent, it didn’t bother her at all. It smelled like nature, like the beach, and even better, no coconut smell of sunscreen to interfere with the pure zephyr of the ocean.

As she sketched, the tension that had built up while she sat at her desk all day began to dissipate. Her body relaxed, her shoulders sagging, her jaw unclenching. Her fingers, at first gripping the pastels so tight she had nearly snapped them, now held on lightly.

She glanced at her picture and sighed. The tension had translated into harsh, angular lines that made the lovely scene sinister. It almost seemed as though something of questionable intent lurked in the background, waiting to pounce. She quickly turned the page.

Before she could begin her next drawing of the sunset, a loud honking sound attracted her attention. Turning to look down the beach, she saw a colony of fat, noisy sea lions engaged in a sour-sounding conversation as they flapped their flippers at each other. A large bull bellowed, and the smaller, younger males grumpily flopped away while the senior mounted a willing female.

Lia smiled. How straightforward the courtship of pinnipeds was, compared to finding a mate in the human world.

At twenty-eight, Lia had been putting out feelers for several years, ever since she’d received her first promotion with her architectural firm, but she’d met with no success. I don’t hate my job. The actual work of designing buildings can be fun; sketching, making proposals, overseeing construction. My office is, well, like home. I have friends there. But this assignment… She sighed.

Going ‘home’ to my temporary apartment felt no better than lingering in the empty office had. It’s so oppressive there. I could have sworn there was someone inside the walls, watching me.

That was why she’d fled to the beach, to the same place where they were about to build. She glanced at the building, barely visible down the shore, and sighed again. I can’t escape. This whole situation is making me nervous. I wonder if it’s just me.

The cry of seagulls and the lap of waves invaded her uncomfortable thoughts, soothing her. Maybe spending time here in nature and in peace will allow me to do justice to the building. Give me a fresh start for tomorrow.

A gull screamed. She looked up into the deepening twilight as the silhouette of the bird crossed her field of vision. Abruptly, the whole day became too much. A sob rose in Lia’s throat, her eyes burned, and then spilled over, and without warning, she began weeping. How am I going to get through the next three weeks? Only one day into my trip, I’m already miserable and want to go home. I miss my best friend, my kitty, and my comfortable little bungalow.

Something splashed beside her. Wiping her face with chalk-smeared fingers, she glanced down into the water beside the rock. A human face was looking back at her.

Lia gave a little yip of surprise as two large, masculine hands planted themselves on the rock at her side. A shock of reddish-brown hair, a little too long and drenched with saltwater, appeared over the edge. Brilliant turquoise eyes, large and exactly the color of the ocean, rimmed with dark lashes. A broad nose. Full lips. The hands pushed the rock and a body emerged. Muscular shoulders and chest with a thick lather of curly hairs. Narrow waist. Slim hips to which a black Speedo clung damply, revealing far more than she wanted to see. Powerful thighs, heavily dusted with more of the reddish-brown hair. Huge feet like flippers.

He flopped down on the rock beside her, dislodging drops, which landed on her sketchbook.

“Hey!” she groused, sweeping away the moisture before it could soak deeply into the paper.

“Pleased to meet you too, Miss,” the man said in a lilting accent.

“You know the water’s not safe to swim in, right?” she told him. “It’s full of chemicals.”

“It’s fine, Miss,” he replied. “Old Aiden Roark can tell when the water’s good to swim in.”

“Is that right, ‘Old Aiden Roark’? Well, the sign posted over there disagrees.”

“That sign’s over a decade old. The ocean is alive. She heals.”

Lia shook her head. “You scared me, you know.”

“Did I now, Miss? And it’s very sorry about it I am, too. Tell Old Aiden. How can I make it better?” He grinned with white teeth, slightly crooked in the front.

“I don’t know,” Lia mumbled, confused by his obvious flirtation. Then she steeled herself, and tried to turn the conversation around, “but you’re not old. I doubt you’re a day over thirty.”

“Oh, and it’s sweet of you to say so, love, but I’m many, many days over thirty.”

“Don’t call me love,” Lia grumped, still upset over being startled. He had managed to take it right back to flirting, a territory she didn´t manage very well.

“Well, then, you’d better give me another name to use,” he replied.

She gave him an assessing look. “Give you a name? My real name, or shall I make one up?”

“As you prefer, or I could give you one. I could call you Siobhan.”

She shuddered. “No thank you. Call me Lia.”

“Lia. How pretty. From the Hebrew. Leah. Pale eyes, light eyes. It suits you.” He examined her face with fascination.

Oh, his eyes are riveting. One moment they’re greyer, like the sky after a storm. The next, intense blue like the Mediterranean. And then Pacific turquoise again. Lia felt herself getting drawn into those eyes, losing herself.

She shook her head, noticing that the sun had finished setting and it had grown quite dark. Uncomfortable being alone with this stranger in a secluded place, she packed up her gear and started for the precarious path back to shore.

Her foot slipped on a slimy rock, and she had to scrabble with her toes for a grip. My pastels and paper will not be improved by a dip in the ocean.

A heavy hand closed on her elbow, steadying her.

“Thank you,” she gasped, relieved and startled at the same time.

“Watch yourself there, light eyes. It’s not a good evening for a swim.”

“It isn’t, Mr. Roark,” she agreed.

“Aiden, love. Please call me Aiden.”

He helped her find her way from stone to stone until at last, she felt the warm sand under her feet.

“This is where we part, light eyes,” he told her, his voice awash with melodramatic regret. “Will I be seeing you again?”

She considered him in the dying light. He’d been polite, a gentleman. So far, nothing to set off any alarm bells, apart from the fact that he was just too appealing to be real.

“Yes, Mr.… Aiden. I’ll be here every evening. If you look for me out on the jetties, you’ll find me.”

“And that’s very good news, Lia.” His hand trailed up her arm from her elbow to her shoulder in a light, undemanding, ticklish touch. He stepped a little closer, into her bubble, which normally made her uncomfortable. For some reason, though, she didn’t squirm with discomfort and step back. While intensely aware of his presence, she didn’t feel threatened or intimidated. She drew a deep breath and took in the sea-fresh scent of his skin, like sunshine and saltwater.

In the next moment, he laid a gentle kiss on her lips. When she opened her eyes, he was halfway down the beach towards the sea lions. She thought about calling after him but changed her mind. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Off in the distance, a bull sea lion honked irritably.

She hurried to her car and drove back to the townhouse.

This time, when she entered the unpleasant space, she no longer felt willing to put up with its negative energy. She scanned the living room, trying to discern the source. She glared at the abstract paintings. That’s the first problem, she realized. The sharp edges and jarring reds and oranges did nothing to soothe her. She lifted first one and then the other from the wall and stuffed them into the hallway closet, hiding them behind her unneeded winter coat.

Now, the room looked like an empty box. Well, that’s no problem. I can look for something new from an artist on the beach or a shop nearby. It’ll be expensive, but my pay is quite good, and I can afford to splurge a little. A little locally produced artwork would make a better souvenir than a mug or shot glass.

As Lia examined the wall behind, thinking about what kind of painting she would like to put there, she noticed something odd. First, it felt almost like a vibration in her skin, a warning. Something’s wrong. I shouldn’t get closer.

A quick scan of the area revealed neither spiders nor cockroaches, so she couldn’t blame her bug revulsion.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the wall. Something about it seems strange. Is that a… pattern, there, half-hidden under a coat of paint? It is. Thick lines drawn with what could only be a red permanent marker, marred the wall. The hasty paint job hadn’t covered it. Strange symbols she couldn’t make out barely showed through the beige surface.

She shivered. Buildings have energy. They soak up the emotions of the people who live in them until they develop feelings of their own. This bland townhouse is possessed of what could only be called a malevolent will.

Lia hurried back to her studio and grabbed a palette knife. If there’s paint under that symbol, it’s going down. They can take any damages out of my paycheck. Oh well. It’s worth it if it allows me to sleep better.

It was harder to approach the second time, but she made herself do it. Putting the knife to the wall was harder still. She pressed, dragged, and the paint fell away in a sheet, taking the red lines with it. As soon as the symbol fell in pieces from the wall, the pall over the room lifted a bit, but it wasn’t gone.

Lia went into a frenzy, searching all over the townhouse for those odd markings and peeling them down. Ninety minutes later, deep scrapes marred the paint in every room, and the home felt brand new. Donning a pair of kitchen gloves, she gathered up the bits and tossed them in the dumpster behind the garage. Then she vacuumed. Then she threw away the half-full vacuum bag.

At last, exhausted, Lia ran a hot bath and sank into it, washing her sweaty brown hair quickly so she could stretch out and relax her tired muscles. Between fixing the apartment and getting a kiss from a handsome stranger on the beach, suddenly she felt better than she would have believed possible.