Page 5 of Enslaved By Magic

“So uh, where do I start?” he asked, turning slowly in the massive foyer. There was an elegant flight of stairs directly in front of him that seemed straight out of a Hollywood movie, aside from the worn carpeting, but there was plenty right there on the first floor to look at. Just from where he was standing, he could see that the hall went far back, with doors and archways branching off at several points. He was beginning to think he’d need a week just to see everything in the house.

“That’s entirely up to you. I can show you around if you like, but you’re more than welcome to explore on your own. I’d like to stay by the door just in case anyone else comes if you’re comfortable being by yourself,” she said.

He got the idea other customers weren’t the only reason she preferred to stay near the exit, but it was all the same to him. He didn’t mind exploring on his own. “Sure, I can show myself around. Uh, any place off-limits?” he asked.

“No, I think any paperwork or personal items were probably removed by the family years ago or were left on purpose. They weren’t what you’d call a close family. You can go anywhere, Mr.—” She paused looking at him expectantly.

He shook his head, surprised. He’d never had this much freedom at an estate sale before. Usually, items or areas were clearly marked. This was going to be interesting. “Osman, but you can call me Luke,” he said, offering her a slight smile.

“I’m Cheryl. Just give a shout if you need anything or have any questions. I’ll probably hang out in the parlor here, since it has a nice view of the drive,” she said as she pointed to the large room to the left. All dark wood and uncomfortable-looking furniture, it didn’t seem the most welcoming room, but the large bay windows did show off the front of the house well.

He started downstairs, pulling a small notebook out of his pocket as he went, so he could make notes on any interesting items he came across. The furniture was all in decent shape, and he was sure he could resell any of it and make a profit, but most of it was far too bulky and heavy for him to manage alone. His car was small too and that limited the space, so he focused on items that were more portable.

Besides, he made a lot more money from selling things online, so most of it had to be shipped to the buyer. Smaller was definitely better when it came to mailing things, and there were plenty of little things that would sell well. Little hand-carved statues, small wooden boxes with inlaid tiles, and a whole library full of rare old books meant there was no shortage of things to choose from, and he scribbled cryptic notes as fast as he could as he moved from room to room.

By the time he headed for the grand stairs leading to the second floor, he’d filled pages and was seriously debating spending his rent money and every other cent he could get his hands on. It would be worth it in the long run, even if he had to beg his aunt and uncle for a week’s grace on the house he rented from them. His uncle was a laid-back guy who wouldn’t complain about it too much; he just hated to ask since he knew their finances were tight too.

But he was sure he could make a quick turnover on some of the things he’d seen. One item in particular he could almost guarantee would have a buyer the moment he listed it. He had a regular who collected rare books on mysticism, and the shelves downstairs had been filled with them. Best of all, people who didn’t work with books constantly underestimated the value of unique old tomes like what he’d seen.

He wondered if he should go and negotiate a price for his list before he started the second floor just in case other buyers swooped in—but the idea of spending all of his money before he’d explored further held him back, though, once he began to poke around upstairs, he was disappointed. More lovely old furniture, of course, and a few pieces of art here and there, but mostly there was just one bedroom after another. The beds were neatly made up and, like the rest of the furniture in the rooms, he presumed, normally covered by the piles of sheets that had been wadded up and dumped in the corners to expose everything to potential buyers.

The rooms were disappointingly plain and normal in comparison to the downstairs. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but a series of guest rooms wasn’t it. There were paintings on the walls, and those did deserve a second look. But even an amateur would know to charge a good deal for those. The ornate frames alone shouted their value, and people didn’t underestimate oil paintings the way they did books. He left them and kept looking.

He felt no shame whatsoever about peeking in closets and doors. He’d been given carte blanch and he intended to take advantage of it to look for hidden treasures. But as he’d expected, the guest room drawers were empty. The closets held a few old coats, nothing of interest, but when he got to the master suite, things were different.

It stood out in contrast to the blandness of the other rooms. They had all been light and comfortable looking, but the owner of the house apparently had no time for those things. The walls were paneled in an unrelenting dark wood making the room feel cave-like. Windows draped in thick, dark curtains continued that impression. When he looked up, the overhead light beamed down brightly, but its rays didn’t seem to penetrate the shadowed corners.

“Holy fuck, this is—”

“Deranged?” The voice caused him to spin around in shock, his hands going up defensively until he realized she must be one of the elusive caretakers.

She was an older woman, but she had one of those faces that made it hard to determine her age. She was handsome and only a few creases marred her skin around the mouth and eyes, but silver strands stood out starkly in the black hair she’d pulled back into a tight braid. She was dressed casually in jeans and an over-sized man’s shirt, but a sturdy worker’s apron covered most of it. His immediate first impression was one of efficiency.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “I heard you speak as I passed and thought you’d seen me.” Her pleasant Irish lilt told him she hadn’t always lived in America.

He swallowed hard and gave her a weak smile. “No, just talking to myself. This house kind of gets to you after a while. Guess I’m a little jumpy.”

She regarded him for a silent moment and then nodded firmly. “It does that. My husband and I have lived here for nearly thirty years now and it still gives me the willies when we have to come in. I expect you’d be here for the sale?” she asked.

Something in her intense expression and tone made him feel like she’d already appraised his worth and made decisions on what kind of person he was but was keeping that information to herself. It reminded him of a professor he’d had once, and he felt suddenly nervous.

“Yeah, just looking around for a few good deals. There’s a lot of beautiful things in here,” he said carefully.

She snorted. “A lot of ugly things too. You’ll want to be careful what you take with you. There are dark things in this house. Mr. Janvier liked the dark, at least in the beginning.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Uh, dark things? Like the murals?” he asked, gesturing toward the wall. Like the downstairs, the master bedroom was covered with dark and fiery scenes, and he wondered how the man had been able to sleep surrounded by them.

There was a long pause, like she was considering her words carefully. “The murals were a symptom, not the cause—and I have work to do.” She turned and took a few steps before stopping. Without looking back, she continued, “You won’t find anything worth buying in his room, but the stairs at the end of the hall will take you to the attic. He never let anyone go up there while he lived, but after he died, we unlocked the door and had a look. There might be some things there that interest you,” she said.

And then she was gone, vanishing through a doorway without another word.

Well, that was interesting, he thought to himself as he took another look around the bedroom. As tempted as he was to go through the heavy armoires and cabinets, what she’d said was intriguing, and… the room’s ominous feeling swayed him. He left in favor of searching out the attic as advised.

---