The Real Estate agent had left. The house was in great shape for a 95 year old structure. The decorating was impeccable so no extra staging would be required.
Max watched as she walked to her car. He could hear her heartbeat. He could feel her excitement.
Twelve million give or take a few was his asking price. The view alone was worth it. He locked the door and walked to the back of the house and the panoramic view of San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.
Five bedrooms, four baths, six ghosts, a portal to Hell under the floorboards of the kitchen, and five bodies under the garden. Only the bedrooms and the baths would be mentioned in the listing.
He didn’t smile at any of the memories he had of his home, either good or bad. No amount of sage could cleanse the negative energy. And yet, nothing could rid his heart of the good memories.
Someone loudly cleared their throat. The smell of Sulphur masked with the scent of Patchouli drifted to his nose. Max turned around.
There she stood with her yellow eyes glaring at him. Leathery featherless wings were neatly folded on her back. A forked tail whipped around like the tail of an angry cat ready to bite.
“I can’t believe you’re selling the house,” she hissed at him through sparkling white and extremely sharp pointed teeth.
“So, what are you going to do about it? You’ve already tried to kill me at least, what, eleven times, maybe twelve?”
“Really?” Max held out his arm showing her the long red scar that would take another ten years to completely heal.
In the back of the room three ghosts had gathered in hopes of entertainment. They loved a good fight. They hoped to see the lovesick Demon try to convince Max that it was a match made in, well not heaven. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something most Demons are good at.
The drama they were hoping for never materialized. Two large wolfhounds had run into the room and started barking at the Demon. She hissed at them then spread her wings, knocking over a floor lamp and vanished in a yellow cloud of toxic fumes.
The dogs sputtered and sneezed. Max opened a window and hugged his poochies. The dogs didn’t need to put up with this mess.
“The show is over. You can go now,” he said to the ghosts and waved his hand for them to leave. “GO!” They vanished without any additional noise or fumes.
With any luck none of them would follow him to his new home.
After thinking he’d be there for another hundred years it was time for him to move. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head. The dogs jumped around him and barked.
“Come on my loves, let your old Vampire take you to the beach to run,” he said.
There would be a new beach soon for them to play one. A new home with a woman to spoil them. And a new life without Demons, or Ghosts, or bones to dig up in the backyard.
For the first time in days Max smiled, then he grabbed his keys, and the dog leashes, and prayed that when he returned home, he and his dogs would be alone.