Free Midnight Magic by Ann Gimpel

walked slowly toward the hall with the Calvados in hand. Sour alcohol fumes buffeted her ten paces from Tyler.
    Sheesh. Wonder how much he had to drink tonight .
    “Very funny.” He twisted his head from side to side, making his long hair swish around his face. “I can still sense that piece of shit you carted home with you, but I suppose it’s because he hasn’t been gone long.”
    She offered what she hoped would pass for a smile. “His cab just left a few minutes ago. Look.” She flashed the bottle at him. “I remembered you like this, so I got you some from the basement.”
    He looked at her strangely, almost as if he was waiting for accusations about the broken lock on the door—and thousands of dollars of missing spirits—but she smiled sweetly and held out the bottle.
    He grabbed it and then grasped her arm roughly with his other hand. “Let’s get this over with so I can get some sleep.” He tugged the cork out of the Calvados bottle with his teeth, spat it onto the hardwood, and upended the bottle, drinking greedily.
    “You smell like you’ve been rolling in a vat of semen.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why don’t you take a bath first? Or,” she forced herself to smile brightly, “maybe we could take one together in that nice, deep, claw-foot tub of mine.”
    “What have you been doing? Reading romance novels? Look, wench, if you want to get laid, let’s get this show on the road. As I recall,” he added nastily, his words slurring, “you never used to mind a few of the more manly smells.”
    Reacting to a sudden intuition, she cleared her mind of thought. Even drunk, Tyler’s magic was powerful enough to enable him to read her mind. “Right you are,” she said cheerily and mounted the stairs. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the stairwell through the floor-to-ceiling window set into the landing.
    When she looked at Tyler, he was sucking down Calvados and swaying on his feet. She wondered how she could ever have been taken in by him. He’d obviously used a glamour, and it was slipping badly. Deep lines etched into his face, his jowls sagged, and he was going bald on top. Whatever he’d done tonight had seriously depleted him. Plus, he was already well on the way to being smashed—even without the brandy and whatever it was spiked with.
    Jeremy was probably right about Tyler’s magic being strained to the breaking point—and about him champing at the bit to inveigle his way into Eleanora’s wealth. A crash of thunder rocked both the house and her confidence in her ability to carry off a seduction charade. A frisson of fear chattered down her spine, leaving icy fingers in its wake. If Tyler really was a demon—
    She hurried up the remaining stairs. Unlocking her door, she surreptitiously disengaged the voice-activated electronics and gestured him inside.
    “Well, well, well.” He glanced at the unmade bed and clothes strewn about. “Still quite the little pig, aren’t we?” He took another swig from the bottle and then held it out to her.
    Throat tight with fear, she shook her head. “Nah. I never drank much. Gave it up entirely a few months back. I think it makes my migraines worse.”
    He shrugged. “You’re missing out. Guess it just means more for me.” He tilted the bottle to his mouth again.
    Gritting her teeth, she tried for one last stab at rationality. Maybe she could manage to get him out of the house without resorting to murder. If whatever Jeremy put in the Calvados made Tyler even marginally more reasonable...
    “Look, there’s no crime in not being able to get along. Let’s just admit we made a mistake. You move your things out, and we’ll both get on with our lives. You have all Mother’s clients, so you’re doing pretty well. It’s obvious you despise me. I’m none too fond of you, either. So.” She spread her hands in front of her. “What do you say?”
    “I’m not going anywhere.” He staggered, set down the bottle, and pulled off his richly