Page 1 of My Inherited House Might be Haunted

One

Rhett

I looked up at the house with severe misgivings. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it but now that reality had sunk in…this was the place I had inherited?

Like, no offense to my deceased great-aunt who’d lived here, but I was pretty sure I’d seen this exact house in a horror movie. The one where the protagonists got sucked into, and it turned into this maze they couldn’t figure out, and people kept getting limbs chopped off. That movie. I’d popped in and out of this house a few times over the past few months—it wasn’t like I was a complete stranger to it—but this was the first time seeing it through an owner’s eyes.

Did I want to live in a horror movie house?

On the other hand, this was likely my only chance at owning a home. I owned a small tech repair shop, and it was enough to pay the bills and a few extras, but housing in this area wasinsane. A normal ranch-style house could go for a million dollars. If I ever wanted to get out of the studio apartment I was crammed into, now was the chance.

The door to the house abruptly opened, and considering the weighty gothic style, it should have done so with an ominous creak. It didn’t, surprisingly enough. A woman stepped out, and…um…seriously? What movie set had she just walked off of?

It wasn’t so much the long velvet black gown she wore which gave me the impression. Or the straight black hair falling smoothly over one shoulder down to her waist. Or even the sound of high heels clacking against the stone porch. What kick-started the thought was more the unnaturally pale skin and the bright red lipstick.

Well, hi, miss vampire. No, you may not suck on my blood.

Her eyes lit on me and she noticeably perked up. “Hello. You must be Rhett.”

To be honest, I was a little alarmed someone had walked out of the house I’d inherited. “Yes, ma’am. Who might you be?”

“I’m Cressida Everhart, your great-aunt’s attorney.”

She was an attorney? DRESSED LIKE THAT? Uh. Okay, I shouldn’t judge. I plastered on a friendly smile. “Um, yeah, hi. I was about to text you.”

“Why text when you can ring the doorbell?” she returned with a smile that looked genuinely pleased.

Why indeed. I could think of several reasons.

I carefully went past the wrought iron gate and up the stairs, where we shook hands. I say carefully because the front sidewalk was very uneven and clearly needed to be redone. The house seemed in good shape, though.

Cressida shook hands easily. She felt a little cold, not that I was one to judge. Tragically, I’d been born without blood, or so my siblings joked—I always felt colder than everyone else. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Come in, come in. Let’s not stand out here.”

My mother had raised me to be polite under all circumstances. Her training currently clashed with survivalinstincts that said to run for it. Something about this house had a creepy feel, and no matter how many times I’d been in it, the impression didn’t change. Granted, it was an old Victorian in all black with a red door, so…could be the paint job. But I had a feeling it was something else. I wasn’t sure what it said about me that survival instincts lost. I found myself following her automatically.

I’d been very, very close to my Aunt Ruth but, due to physical distance, had never been in this house prior to this year. As a kid, she’d always traveled to me, often scooping me up for grand trips. When I’d gotten older, she’d paid for my college and a car, but I hadn’t gone to school here in Connecticut. It wasn’t until her health declined that I decided to move here after I graduated. The plan had been to live with her and take care of her, but by the time I’d made it, she’d been in hospice.

And was gone three weeks later.

That still hurt, honestly. Feeling like I hadn’t gotten to her in time. Feeling like I’d failed to make the most of what time she’d had left. Looking back, I wasn’t sure what had been so fucking important to delay me getting here. I’d been out of school for nearly a year by then but thought I’d had more time. Aunt Ruth had only been happy with my arrival, never saying a negative word about me not getting here sooner, which was so typical of her. Still, her death was a sore spot that grated, and I’d likely always miss her keenly.

Shaking the thought off, I tried to focus once more on the house she’d left to me. It was grand, for sure. My great-aunt had expensive taste. The inside didn’t look like the beginning of a maze, at least. It kept the Gothic Victorian look, with the high ceilings and wood paneling with flowery wallpaper. It smelled like beeswax and lemon, which was also nice? I was trying to find non-scary things to focus on.

“I understand you are the only living relative to Miss Fairchild? Aside from your mother.”

“That’s right.” I shrugged. “My family tends not to have a lot of kids for whatever reason. I have several stepsiblings, but my mother and I are the only relatives she had left. Aunt Ruth specifically willed me the house, so…here we are.” Which had been a sweet gesture on her part, but I’d rather have her alive than the house. No question.

“Excellent. I wanted to make sure. I did have the title redone in your name.” She ushered me into the first room. “I put all the paperwork and such here for you to sign, and I’ll notarize it.”

The sitting room had those elaborate settees and furniture you’d see in a period piece. The whole place was dusty and had the air of not being used, but then again, Aunt Ruth had died three months ago in hospice, so it wasn’t like anyone was cleaning. I hadn’t had the heart to worry about it. Or access to the house, what with it being tied up in estate paperwork.

“My aunt mentioned the house had been used as a movie set?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Cressida clapped her hands together, excited. “Oh, have you seen the movie, then?The Walls Bleed Red.”

“Yeah, I, um, watched it over the weekend.” I’d watched it because I was curious how the house had been used. Did I mention I was bad with horror? Serious miscalculation on my part.

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