Oh dear. Demon on the loose. Malachi refrained from telling her that her late husband’s soul was likely already burning in hell.

Following her gaze, his head tilted back to watch the sky. Clouds drifted lazily by, dotting the gray-blue expanse above them. Windy, but warm, with no promises of anything but the fact that it could rain.

“Are there none of your late husband’s contacts that could help you?” he inquired, lowering his gaze to meet hers. It was not something he could help with – he’d be better suited to exorcise the damned place than to sell it, and he didn’t want the weight of a bad deal on his hands.

“Or a lawyer to sort things out?”