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Chris yawned, he fantasised about having a body, reckoning the pull of muscles and sinews as he stretched would be pretty awesome. He uncurled, wondering how long his snooze had been this time—his naps could range anything from days to decades. During his early years, he’d been moved around to new places, but by the appearance of the wood panelling, he was still in Crofton Hall. His jar was on a shelf, but he didn’t think he was on the same one from when he’d decided to grab some rest. He peered over the ceramic rim, recognised a stained-glass window, and realised he must be in the west wing, somewhere near the back.

He glided out of his jar, unfurling to his full size, materialising was an art, and he preferred his first couple of times after a long sleep to be in private, not wanting to put his hands where his feet should be or his arse on upside down. He’d done that once, and it had taken ages to fix. He took extra care with his hair. There was no point having long, flowing locks if they looked like a rat’s nest. There was only so far he could go from his home. He wasn’t fully corporeal but had more substance than a common-or-garden ghost, and he had a nice line in ectoplasm if he was feeling in the mood. Talking about being in the mood, he was hungry, or rather, he needed a recharge as he didn’t eat food as such. He hoped the house had a nice selection of visitors.

A black circle appeared on the floor, and a demon, level three if he wasn’t mistaken, manifested in front of him. He wore a three-piece suit and had highly polished horns. “Good evening,” the demon said. “Can I ask who you are and what your intent is?”

Chris wriggled his nose; things must have changed a good deal as he’d never been greeted as he woke before. “Since when have the Redbourns had a demon on the staff?”

“I’ve been on the staff for a number of years. His Lordship was kind enough to give me employment as his valet. Now, back to you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Charles employs a demon as his valet?” He was sure Charles’s lover hadn’t been too keen on Charles having a valet. “That doesn’t sound likely. Timothy would be miffed.”

“Lord Benjamin Redbourn is the Dark Earl of Crofton. Has been for over a year now.”

Chris puffed out his cheeks. “Seems like there’s been some changes since I was last awake.”

“I must insist you tell me who you are.”

Chris floated past him, and the demon tried his hocus-pocus, silly thing thinking that’d make a difference. The magical types had tried over the years, but at most their spells tickled. “Don’t be daft, you silly old demon,” he said and floated through the wall.

An elf stood in front of him as he entered the library through the bookcase. “Oh, you’re new too.”

“Mr Vinter called me.”

“Oh, the demon?” Chris thought he must have been in a deep sleep not to notice a demon and an elf moving in. “And you’re an elf. You lot are nasty buggers.”

“I prefer the mantle of Mr Alex Reynolds. Or Lord Crofton’s secretary.”

“I bet you do. Is Ben in his old room? I think we need a little chat.” He wanted to check everything was all right and Crofton Hall hadn’t fallen victim to some bizarre cuckoo scheme and these two hadn’t taken over the nest.

Alex’s magic was a bit more effective. Chris didn’t remember encountering an elf before, but he’d read about them and heard the stories, and Alex’s magic was stronger and tasted… icky.

“I really must insist you tell me who you are and why you are here,” Alex said.

He was trapped in some sort of a complex cage spell—this Alex fellow was powerful. “My name is Chris. I don’t know much more than that, and I live in a jar.”

“A jar?”

“Yes, a bit like a genie and the lamp, except I’m not a genie, and it’s a jar.” He was being honest, and no one had yet figured out what he was.

Alex’s eyes narrow. “What are you?”

Chris shrugged. “No idea. I know I need a special energy source, and I first came to Crofton Hall in…” It took a moment to remember. “…1644. Sebastian Hewel gave my jar to Anthony as a gift.”

“If you’d been here, we’d have noticed.”

Chris snorted; this bloke thought a lot of himself. He needed to speak to Ben. A ripple of energy passed through him—it seemed as if there were a fair few guests, excitable ones, too. His stomach rumbled, or at least the close approximation of what a stomach would do if it was solid. “Is there a party?”

“Yes, His Lordship is hosting a gathering to celebrate his sired sibling’s recent return.”

Chris’s nostrils flared. He’d dine like a king tonight, all those happy people celebrating, getting excited and enjoying the nice big beds the hall had to offer. “I think I should speak to Ben.”

He concentrated for a moment on Alex’s magic. With relative ease now he’d got the measure of Alex, he dismantled the spell and drifted away. He passed a pile of newspapers, and the date told him he’d been asleep for more than fifty years. No wonder he was hungry.

It took a moment to locate Ben, but Chris glided through the hall and into Ben’s office. This room had been Charles’s when Chris had last been here, but he suspected the Dark Earl would always take the best rooms, and he was right. “Ben! I hear congratulations on multiple fronts are in order.”

“Chris?” Ben was looking dapper, dressed in his evening wear, ready for his little soiree.

Alex and Karl popped up moments later. These two were getting tiresome.

“Please, can you call off your goons? I’m frankly a little hurt you didn’t tell them about me.”

“Karl, Alex, this is Chris.” Ben smiled. “He’s… unique.”

Chris preened at the compliment. He was special, several people had said so. Although he tended not to manifest in front of too many folk. The last thing he wanted was to be prodded and poked to figure out what he was and how he worked. “Why thank you, my lord.”

Alex and Karl exchanged a raised eyebrow. “If you wouldn’t mind clarifying how you’re special?” asked Karl, who sounded unconvinced.

“We’re not sure of Chris’s origins, but he’s some sort of incubus, for wont of a better word.”

The Dark Earls of Crofton had accommodated him over the centuries, trying to help figure out who he was, treating him as a person, but so far no luck. They’d even tried asking a pottery specialist about his jar, but nothing. Even his jar appeared to be unique.

He saw Alex’s top lip curl. “A sex spirit. How is that special?”

Chris scowled. How rude this elf was. “I’m not an incubus. It’s just the closest we’ve managed to come up with. I need sexual energy, not the actual sex. I don’t”—he wrinkled his nose in distaste—“touch them.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Alex said. “He said he arrived in 1640s… he’s not exactly dressed the part.”

Were all elves as silly as this one? Did Alex think he couldn’t change his clothing? He wasn’t a ghost, or at least not in the traditional sense, and jeans and a T-shirt were a lot more comfortable than doublet and breeches. Ben chuckled. “Chris has been with us a while. He’s been able to adapt.”

Karl cleared his throat. “Then why weren’t we aware?”

“He has a complicated sleep cycle. His being here simply hasn’t come up, and if I had thought you needed to know, I would have said.” Ben was an affable chap, but he wouldn’t like his staff telling him what he should do.

He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at the daft sods. “I hibernate for years at a time, although this last one was longer than usual. I don’t tend to doze for half a century.”

Karl seemed confused, but then he was probably trying to figure out what sort of creature Chris was. “Will you need housing? Alternative sustenance?”

“Oh no. I have my jar, but a nicer spot would be welcome, and I’ll see to my own feeding.”

“Stay out of my bedroom.” Ben pointed a finger at him. “There’s always plenty of guests, so you won’t go hungry. I know I’ve allowed a nibble in the past, but not with Ashley, he wouldn’t approve.”

“My lord!” Alex said. “You can’t possibly?—”

“Alex,” Ben said sharply. “Chris is harmless. Just think of it as him recycling energy. No one gets hurt.”

“But… how?” Alex said, no doubt astonished at his boss’s stance.

Chris sniffed. “I thought you said you didn’t want to know.”

Alex glowered at him, his magic made his mouth water, and his climax would probably taste good, but he suspected Alex would ward his room against him. How selfish.

Ben held up his hands. He had been a favourite of Chris’s and had a lovely energy about him when he came, but wasn’t happy to donate now he was attached to a single individual. He’d need to investigate this Ashley person who had tamed Ben Redbourn. “Chris, why don’t you explain?”

He wasn’t sure if he could explain the process properly because it had changed over the years. “I suppose I could have sex with people, after a fashion. But I’ve never done so because it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like the idea of being touched if I don’t know someone well, and I’m not that interested, to be honest.”

“Can you be touched?” Alex stared at or, more accurately, through him.

“Not exactly. As you can see, I’m not corporeal, although on the rare occasion I like someone enough, I can produce ectoplasm.” He saw Alex shudder. So uncalled for. “But I don’t need to touch. I can harvest the energy of peoples’ orgasms by being in the same room. I tend to hang out under beds.”

He had memories from before his time at Crofton Hall, and over the centuries—the Redbourns had helped him figure out the most efficient way to feed. The process gave him what he needed, but he wasn’t sure how he’d known in the first place it was sexual energy that would give him sustenance without the need for the touchy side of things.

Karl looked pained. “And you live in a jar? Are you a djinn? Do you manifest from a dreamscape?”

“I don’t think so. I sort of came into existence.”

“When you came to Crofton Hall?” Karl pressed.

“No—this was not my first home. Sebastian liked my jar and gave me to Anthony. We think their lovemaking recharged my deep dormant state, and the energy woke me up from one of my longer naps.” He liked that everyone wanted to think they would be the ones to solve his mystery, even though it was unlikely. “Anthony, and then Charles, said I could stay as long as I needed, and Ben always said he’d never have an issue. This is as close to a home as I’ve ever known.”

His bottom lip trembled, and he knew he must come across like some wide-eyed innocent virgin, but he did feel at times as if he’d been saved from the clutches of some terrible monster. Although why a monster, he had no idea.

“He’s no worse than any of the vampire guests,” Ben said. “I’d say most would consider him better as he doesn’t drink blood or leave bodies on the floor that need clearing up.”

Chris thought he was a lot better than the average vampire, he was nigh on the perfect house guest. “I’m also discreet. I just sit under a bed, and no one knows I’m there.”

“We’ve several guests visiting, and I’m sure you’ll get a good feed,” Ben said. “But you are to avoid the permanent residents. They shouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable.”

He placed his hand over where his heart should’ve been. “I swear on my honour.”

Chris wasn’t sure what honour he meant, and it was debatable he had any to start with but didn’t think it would hurt. He meant well enough. Alex looked him up and down and pursed his lips. He was clearly not a fan. “Very well.”

Alex disappeared, citing other work. “Karl, perhaps you could help Chris find a room he’d favour.”

Chris floated out of Ben’s office after Karl. “There’s a couple of guest suites that aren’t used so often. You might prefer the quiet.”

“I keep to myself when I’m not hungry.” Not because he didn’t like people but more because he had no idea what to say. Most of the guests at Crofton Hall were vampires, or at least members of the paranormal community, and he’d be a freak they’d want to stare at, not chat to. “Perhaps I’ll use the library. Reading is a simple but rewarding pleasure.”

“How do you turn the pages?” Karl asked.

He got the sense he was getting more corporeal each time he woke up. It was hard to ascertain, but maybe he was evolving into something else, and he had an idea he might not be from this realm, but he wasn’t sure. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I could see if there are any audiobooks you might like to listen to,” Karl offered.

A nice gesture, and not one he was expecting from a demon, but he suspected the sort of books Karl was interested in wouldn’t have been converted to audio. “Something light, I’m not one for those murder mysteries with lots of bodies.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

Karl let him into a nicely appointed bedroom with a view over the grounds. “Is this for me?”

“It’s not used very often as some of our guests have reported it has a dampening effect on their powers, but I’m sure that’ll not be an issue for you.”

Chris wasn’t sure why Karl was so untrusting of him. Ben had vouched that he wasn’t a bad spectral entity, and that should be enough. He didn’t have magic in the sense of Karl or Alex, he had an echolocation thing to help find food, and due to his nature, most magic didn’t affect him, more went through him, so there shouldn’t be any concerns. Maybe once they got to know him, they’d figure out he wasn’t going to cause trouble.

“Of course not. I’m just grateful for all the help I’ve received over the years while I’ve been at Crofton Hall.”

“I’m sure you are. And rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure you receive all the help you deserve.”

As unveiled threats went, that was a corker and unjustified. Karl was being mean. “How kind, I’m sure.”

Alex reappeared with his jar. “Here’s your vessel.”

He wondered if they’d done anything to it, at a bare minimum, he thought they might do some sort of tracking. No one had ever managed to cast something on his jar that had stuck before, and he’d be surprised if these two could do any better. “You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” Alex placed his pot on a shelf. “I’ve applied a special glue-me spell, so no risk that it might go walkies. And we’ll know where to find you in case you need anything.”

Over the years, he’d created The List, where he’d mentally collected all the people who’d not been as nice to him as they could’ve been. He wasn’t sure why but had a feeling he might like to get some sort of revenge in the future for those still alive, like putting slimy things in their beds. For a moment, he thought he’d enjoy wiping the smiles off their smug faces. Chris had no idea where those thoughts had come from. They weren’t hurting him, although they were a bit suspicious, but then he was an unknown entity, so he could see why they would be. He would try to be nice to them, show them they needn’t worry, and they could all be friends. Or at least not adversaries. He slowly dematerialised and curled up in his lovely safe jar.

Home.