Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) (8 page)

Bam muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ and took the cup between two hands, blue painted nails intertwining around the porcelain. She inhaled the scent of coffee and, with slow deliberation, took a sip from the cup, then grimaced as she pulled her face away.

“Jesus, Frey… did you put enough sugar in there?”

Freya shrugged, rose to her feet, and tore the top piece of paper from the notepad. “I’ll try to be back by ten. Hope the guy doesn’t come before that.”

“What guy?” Bam looked from Freya to Oliver.

“The contractor. He’s coming today to make an estimate.”

“Right, I’d forgotten about that. Wednesday the guy from the antique thing is coming.” Bam sipped the coffee again, followed by another wince.

“I can’t wait until we can really get started on the renovation.” Freya folded the grocery list into a solid little square. “I’ll be back. Bam, don’t forget to eat. There’s bread on the counter.” She ran off to have a shower, leaving Bam and Oliver in silence at the kitchen table.

***

Freya enjoyed the trip to the grocery store. The ride had been pretty. She couldn’t get enough of the bright green rolling hills, which were so different from the flat Dutch countryside, and the sky was a deep blue that offset the colours of the wildflowers and the grass.

She’d had a bit of a headache when she’d left, but that seemed to have cleared up now. The fresh air was doing her a lot of good. Bam greeted her at the steps of Angel Manor, and from the excited look on her face and the way the girl hopped from one foot to the next, Freya surmised she had good news.

“Did you get a good estimate for the antiques?” Freya’s words came out in pants, her lungs not yet used to the hills on the Scottish island compared to the flatness of the Dutch countryside where she’d grown up.

“No. I told you earlier, that guy won’t be here until Wednesday.” Bam sounded absolutely giddy. “This is better.” She seemed to contemplate her own words for a moment. “Well, no… not better, but still pretty damn good.” She giggled, her thin fingers wiggling in front of her mouth like the legs of a spider. “The contractor is here.” Bam giggled again and shot Freya an impish look.

“Eh… okay?”

Bam turned around and ran up the steps.

“Hey, feel free to give me a hand with the shopping,” Freya cried, and she held up the heavy plastic supermarket bags as far as her arms would allow. Bam stopped in her tracks and muttered an apology, then turned and skipped back down the stone steps to help.

“Not sure what the reason behind walling the place up was. We tried to look through the windows to see what’s on the other side, but it’s too dark and the windows are very dirty. It’s probably just more rubbish, as this place was pretty smashed up when we first found it. We didn’t dare to knock down any walls though. I thought it best to leave that to the professionals.” Oliver’s voice echoed through the hallway as Freya and Bam made their way to the main hall, where he and two contractors were in the midst of their conversation. One of the men, tall with dirty blond hair, stood with his back towards them. The other was a man in his mid-forties with a friendly face and short brown hair.

“Oh, here’s the owner now.” Oliver moved his hand towards Freya, and the tall man turned around. A pair of sharp green eyes held hers for a moment, and a casual smile played across handsome lips. He was the most beautiful man that Freya had ever seen. He looked like a movie star, and she suddenly understood Bam’s excitement. Her knees felt weak, and blood rushed to her cheeks with hot tingles.

“Freya, meet Mr Masters and Mr Philips.”

The beautiful man, who Freya had now elevated to the position of Greek God in her mind, took a few steps forward and extended his hand.

“Call me Logan.”

“Yes.” Her words were meek, and she simply stared at the extended hand, the grocery bags dangling by her side. There was an awkward silence between them as their eyes locked.

“I’m sorry.” The stranger shook his head. “How rude; you’re carrying shopping. Let me take those from you.” He nodded at the other man. “John?” Freya couldn’t find the words to respond, and she let Logan take the bags. The man he’d called John stepped forward and took Bam’s bags. Oliver moved towards them, his eyes boring into Freya.

“I’ll show these gentlemen the kitchen,” he said, and as Logan walked away he hissed at the two girls: “Meanwhile, maybe Freya can find her brain?”

Freya and Bam stared after the men as they went through the double doors leading into the West Wing. Then Bam turned to Freya and punched her in the arm, the little fist with pointed knuckles making quite an impact.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“That, ladies and gentlemen, is how Freya flirts.” She brought her arm and head down on Bam’s shoulder and pretended to sob.

“That was awful.”

“Wasn’t it just?”

“I’m amazed you ever get laid with techniques like that.”

“It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

“Seriously, that was so bad it was almost impressive. You should write a book.”

“Please let me suffer in silence.”

When the men’s voices became louder once more, Freya bolted upright and pretended to be studying one of the doorframes.

“Smooth,” Bam whispered with a chuckle, and Freya waved a hand at her in irritation. Her stomach flipped when she saw the contractor making his way towards her again.

“Take two,” Logan said. He shot her a winning smile, and Freya felt her stomach drop into her pelvis. Her smile was weak, and she gave him an awkward handshake, cursing herself inwardly.

“Freya Formynder.”

“Logan Masters. That’s quite an exotic name you have there.” The skin of his hand was hot against hers, and to her horror, Freya noticed that her palms were sweating.

“My dad gave it to me,” she said lamely. “I mean… he’s Norwegian… it’s his last name. My first name… um… it…”

“It’s very pretty.” The tall man winked at her, and acid bubbled in her throat.

“Thank you. You’re pretty too.” She grimaced. “Your name, I mean your name is pretty. No… not pretty… handsome. No, not handsome either… it’s a good name.” Her eyes betrayed her discomfort, and she looked at Bam and Oliver, who were standing at a distance, trying their best not to laugh out loud.

“My name is John Philips.” The other man cut in with a sympathetic smile, his hand extended. Freya gripped it, somehow regaining control of her motor skills.

“Nice to meet you, excuse me, I have… um, a thing to do.” Freya pushed past Logan and John, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run to her bedroom. Less than a minute later she slammed the door behind her and fell onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillow and moaned.

A few minutes passed when a knock on her door forced her to leave the comfort of her bed. Oliver leaned against the doorframe.

“What the fuck happened to you?” His eyes twinkled and he had a cruel smile on his face. Freya threw her head back and covered her eyes with the backs of her hands.

“That was horrible. I can’t believe I turned into Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel.”

“So, you think our new contractor is attractive, do you?” He rubbed his chin and gave her another crooked smile.

“I was hoping to be less obvious about it.”

“Yeah, I was hoping you would be too. But unfortunately, you were about as obvious as a baboon flashing its big red arse.”

“That’s a nice image, thank you. This helps my crushed ego quite a bit.”

“Well, stitch it up, kiddo.” Oliver attempted an American mafia voice. “You better get used to this fella being around, ya hear?”

“Stop it. You’re not funny.” She sank onto her bed, and Oliver sat down next to her.

“I’m not kidding, Frey. I talked to Logan, and he can do us a real sweet deal. He works with problem kids that are trying to get their lives together. They take on big projects like this for little more than room and board.”

Freya sat up, leaned on her hands, and gave Oliver a scrutinising look.

“Do they deliver professional work? We can’t have the hotel looking shoddy.”

“From what I’ve heard and seen, they do an amazing job. Logan only works with really talented kids that want to make something of their lives. He showed me a portfolio of some of his projects. Rudy vouches for him, and you know what Rudy is like.”

She nodded slowly, doubt gripping her stomach.

“Don’t pull that face. Let’s be honest; even with the sales from the antiques, we would have never had the money to do up the whole hotel and get it running. We probably would have had to rent out rooms when only one of the wings was ready and fix up the rest along the way. This way, we can do the whole project at once. We have to pay for the materials, the room and board. I figure we let the kids stay here, and at the end they all get a little ‘internship money’, which is really no more than a bonus. Do you know how much cash that will save us?”

“But these kids…” Her fingers twirled around the purple sheets of her bed. “You said they were problem kids?”

“Minor stuff. Nothing too serious. Vandalism, petty theft, stuff like that. Come on, everyone deserves a second chance, Freya. I expected you to understand that.” He pushed her shoulders with a jovial smile, but Freya saw an intensity in his eyes. “They’ll be supervised.”

“By Logan and that other guy, erm… Philips?”

“Yes, and another guy. There are a few professional builders who help out. And Logan has some connections for electricians and other tradesmen. He said he’d get us discounts from them too.”

“It sounds almost too good to be true.” Freya forced a smile and leaned against Oliver. The sweet musk of his Calvin Klein aftershave hung around him like a protective blanket, and she inhaled the familiar scent.

“Who said that we can’t ever get lucky?”

“Who indeed.”

“Plus… Captain Awesome will get to live with us for the better part of a year.” He turned his head to look at her. “Do you think you can handle that?”

She punched him on the leg. He retaliated by pulling her onto the bed and tickling her. Freya screamed with laughter and fought to defend herself. After several minutes, they both fell onto their backs and looked at the ceiling.

“When can they start?”

“Next week sometime.”

She exhaled, blowing a wayward lock of hair from her face. There were several minutes of silence between them, and Freya listened to the birds chirp outside her window. She thought about Angel Manor, and how the house had already transformed in her mind. It wasn’t frightening at all. The only thing that had made the house frightening was her weird aunt and her creepy cousins, but they’d all died, and they’d left her the house. Angel Manor was
hers
now.

“This is really happening isn’t it?”

“It is. We’re making it happen.”

“Yes,” she said with a deep sigh. “Yes we are.”

***

Logan turned to look at the house one last time. He had to admit that it was a gorgeous building, and it would be the biggest job the ‘Second Chance project’ would have had to date. Yet there was something about the house that bothered him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

John stood next to him and followed his gaze. “This’ll be a perfect project to do with some of the more difficult lads, like Terrence Jones and Roger Mace.”

Logan rubbed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It would be, wouldn’t it?” He inhaled deeply. It was away from bars, or any other goddamned place, so he wouldn’t have to be afraid of them running amok. And yet, when he looked at Angel Manor and the row of creepy angels leading to it, something nagged at him. “It’s going to be a long project, this one.”

John frowned. “Yeah, but it looks like a good one though. This house is amazing. The only thing I worry about with the lads are those two young ladies in there.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye out for that, yes. It’s a good thing they’re in a completely different wing of the house from where we’ll be working. That little blonde looks like she might be some trouble.” Logan raised his eyebrows and mussed his hair with his hands.

“That girl with the dark hair, Freya, seemed to take quite a fancy to you.” John shoved his shoulder against Logan, a dirty grin on his face.

“She was cute.”

“I hope you’re not going to be a problem on this project.” John winked at him and pulled a packet of rolling tobacco from his pocket.

“I’m nothing if not a professional.”

“These projects take a long time. I can imagine a man might weaken his resolve, having a pair of grey eyes give him that dreamy look and fluttering eyelashes at him all the time.”

“A man might.” Logan looked at the rollup and pulled a face. “You’re not smoking that in my car, mate. Let’s go. It’s a long trip back to Edinburgh.”

The two men climbed into the vehicle and drove off down the narrow road, away from Angel Manor and Lucifer Falls. Logan couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the house was watching them as they left.

Chapter 5

The last of the antiques were hoisted into the dealer’s van by two large men who smelled like they hadn’t showered in a week. The dealer himself, Mr MacDougal, was an elderly man with bad teeth and thin white hair brushed messily over a glossy scalp.