Claimed By The Four Alpha Demons

Callie’s POV The fog in Northwich didn’t behave like normal fog. It didn’t just roll in…it prowled. It pressed against the windows of my grandmother’s Victorian estate like a living thing, heavy and gray, seeking a way inside. “It’s watching us,” Harper said from her perch on the window seat, her knees pulled up to her chest. “I swear, Cal, every time I look out there, the mist shifts like it’s trying to hide something.” I paused in the middle of steaming the ancient velvet curtains in the parlor, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. “It’s just condensation and temperature changes, Harper. The house is old, and the town is in a valley. That’s how weather works.” “Weather doesn’t have eyes,” she mumbled, peeling the wrapper off a granola bar. “And it certainly doesn’t whisper.” I ignored her, mostly because I had a sinking feeling she was right. Since I’d moved back to Northwich two weeks ago to renovate the Briarcliff Estate, the air had felt…charged. The hair on my arms stood up constantly, a prickling static that made my skin itch. I told myself it was the dry mountain air, or the stress of the renovation, or the fact that my bank account was currently weeping. But deep down, I felt like a radio tuned to a frequency no one else could hear. “Stop trying to scare me,” I said, turning off the steamer. “I have enough to worry about today without you adding ‘sentient weather’ to the list. It’s my first day at the Manor. I need to be professional. I need to be efficient. And I certainly need to not vomit from nerves.” Harper hopped off the seat, her socks sliding on the dusty hardwood floor. “Ah, yes. The Hawthorne Manor. The castle on the hill. The lair of the brooding billionaire brothers who own, like, ninety percent of this town and probably eat tourists for breakfast.” “They own the mines and the tech firm,” I corrected, walking into the hallway to check my reflection in the clouded mirror. “And they need a housekeeper because the last three quit without notice.” “Which is not suspicious at all,” Harper deadpanned, following me. She leaned against the doorframe as I fussed with my hair. “Why do you think they quit? Ghosts? Satanic rituals? Or maybe the brothers are just impossibly hot and the maids spontaneously combusted?” I snorted. “I’m going with ‘impossible standards’ and ‘too much stairs.’ Have you seen the size of that place? It’s a monolith. Cleaning it is going to be a nightmare.” “A lucrative nightmare,” Harper reminded me. “The pay is insane, Cal. Like, ‘buy a new car in three months’ insane. Which brings us back to: suspicious.” I sighed, finally abandoning my attempt to tame the slight wave in my blonde hair. It was doing what it always did…reacting to the air, curling slightly at the ends as if electrified. “I know it’s weird. But I need the money. The foundation here needs work, the roof is leaking in the east wing, and Liam…” I trailed off, the name tasting sour in my mouth. “Liam is a leech,” Harper finished for me, her voice hardening. “A leech in a cheap suit who thinks ‘renovating’ means ‘selling it to the highest bidder’.” “He’s helping with the legal paperwork,” I defended weakly, though my heart wasn’t in it. My fiancé had been distant lately, more interested in the property value of my inheritance than in setting a wedding date. “He’s just practical.” “He’s practically an ass,” Harper muttered. “But fine. Let’s talk about something more interesting. The Hawthorne brothers. Which one are you hoping to run into first?” I walked into my bedroom and threw open the wardrobe doors. “None of them. I’m the help, Harper. I’m hoping to run into a mop and a bucket, do my job, and get paid. Invisibility is the goal.” “Booooring,” she sang out, flopping onto my unmade bed. “Come on. Everyone in town has a favorite. There’s Greyson, the scary CEO one. Ace, the one who looks like he should be fronting a rock band. Raiden, the one with the tattoos who rides a motorcycle that sounds like a jet engine. And Nate, the quiet, intense one who stares at people until they cry.” “They sound lovely,” I said dryly, pulling out a gray cardigan. “A real basket of puppies.” “Vampire puppies,” Harper corrected. “Sexy vampire puppies. Rumor has it they never go into town during the day. And Mrs. Higgins at the bakery swears she saw Ace lift a car off a patch of ice with one hand.” “Mrs. Higgins also thinks the government is spying on her through her toaster,” I countered, tossing the cardigan on the bed. I stared at my clothes, indecision gnawing at me. What does one wear to clean a gothic fortress inhabited by reclusive billionaires? “Too frumpy,” Harper said, dismissing the gray cardigan with a wave of her hand. “You look like a librarian who gave up on joy.” “I’m supposed to look practical. I’ll be dusting.” “You can be practical and hot,” she insisted. She got up and rummaged through my closet, pulling out a pair of black high-waisted jeans and a fitted burgundy thermal top. “Here. This says, ‘I’m here to work, but I also have a waist.’” I took the clothes, holding the burgundy top up. “It’s a bit tight.” “It’s thermal. It’s supposed to be tight. Besides, the heating in that manor is probably ancient. You don’t want to freeze to death in some drafty corridor while dusting gargoyles.” I changed quickly, shimmying into the jeans and pulling the top over my head. The fabric clung to my skin, warm and soft. I looked in the mirror, and saw that Harper was right. It was practical, but the deep red color made my pale skin look luminous, and my eyes, an odd shade of violet-blue, seemed to pop. “See?” Harper grinned, coming up behind me and resting her chin on my shoulder. “You look fierce. Like a vampire slayer. Or a witch.” I flinched, the word sending a bizarre jolt through me, like I’d touched a live wire. The lights in the room flickered once, then buzzed. Harper stood up straight, eyes widening. “Did you see that?” “Old wiring,” I said quickly, my pulse hammering in my throat. “I need to get an electrician in here.” “Uh-huh,” Harper looked at the light fixture, then back at me. “Just like the toaster exploded last week when you got mad at Liam?” “That was a power surge,” I insisted, grabbing my boots. “Stop trying to make me into a superhero. I’m just clumsy with electronics.” “If you say so,” she hummed, not looking convinced. “Just…be careful up there, okay? Northwich has weird vibes, but the Hawthorne place is ground zero. My grandma used to say that land is cursed. Said the shadows up there have teeth.” “Your grandma and Mrs. Higgins would get along great,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up my combat boots. “I’ll be fine. I have my phone, I have pepper spray thanks to you, and I have a crippling fear of unemployment to keep me motivated.” I stood up, smoothing down my jeans. I felt ready. Or as ready as I could be. But beneath the surface, that static hum was building again. It felt like a physical pressure in my chest, a pulling sensation that tugged me toward the mountains. Toward them. “Do I look okay?” I asked, turning to Harper one last time. She looked me up and down, her expression softening. “You look beautiful, Cal. And tough. If those Hawthorne boys give you any trouble, just give them the ‘Callie Stare.’ It works on Liam.” “Liam is immune to everything except tax breaks,” I muttered, grabbing my keys. “Wish me luck.” “Don’t let the vampires bite!” she called out as I headed for the door. “They’re billionaires, Harper!” I shouted back over my shoulder. “They only bite the economy!” I stepped out onto the porch, and the cold mountain air hit me like a slap. The fog swirled around my ankles, thick and clinging as I walked to my beat-up sedan, shivering not just from the temperature, but from a sudden, overwhelming sense of inevitability. I looked up toward the ridge. The Hawthorne Manor sat there, a dark silhouette against the gray sky, imposing and silent. It didn’t look like a house. It looked like a beast waiting to be fed. And for some reason, instead of fear, I felt a strange, terrifying thrill race down my spine. That strange instinct, usually just a dormant, buzzing noise in the back of my head, suddenly spiked, urging me with a single, clear thought. Go. I got into the car, the engine sputtering to life, and drove toward the shadows.