Page 1 of Never Been Gargoyled
Chapter 1
Dazy
My car gave one last wheeze and died right at the entrance to Winterbourne Estate in the pretty little town of Harmony Glen.
“Come on,” I grumbled, turning the key.
The engine coughed like Betty—my car—was laughing at me.
“Not now.” Through the windshield, the sprawling house loomed at the end of a long gravel drive. In the moonlight, it looked more like a haunted mansion than the fresh start I'd been hoping for.
Two sides of a wrought iron gate hung crooked in front of me, barely blocking the entrance. Vines wrapped around the bars and were doing their best to eat the crumbling gatehouse on my left.
Beyond the gate, the grounds were a mess, tangled brambles and overgrowth everywhere, with only hints of old walking paths peeking through.
Great Aunt Helga used to tell me stories about these gardens when I visited her at the nursing home. How they'd been gorgeous, full of rare plants that drew visitors from all over. Hard to believe it now.
Staring at all this overgrowth, I couldn’t imagine something beautiful ever blooming here.
But Great Aunt Helga had left the building and the land around it to me. After I got laid off from the greenhouse, I figured it was time to claim my inheritance, even if it meant moving halfway across the country.
At least I owned it free and clear. She'd even left me money to fix the place up. There was only one condition. To claim the estate as my own, I had to live in the building, which wasn’t a problem. I liked old things, and I wasn’t afraid of hard work.
Oh, and she’d told me to ignore any weird noises the house made, especially on the roof. She'd actually written that into the will.
Great Aunt Helga had always been a little eccentric. It ran in the family.
Leaving Betty to think about her life choices, I got out and pushed the rusty gates open, the hinges screeching in protest. My body screeching in protest along with it. I might be big (I preferred the termplush), but I was strong. I’d proven it more than once in my job at the greenhouse.
The air on the estate grounds felt different, heavier, somehow. Still, I climbed back into my car and drove onto the estate, pausing to sort-of close the gates behindme. Someone would have to move them if they hoped to drive their own vehicle inside. Foot traffic could pass but who would bother to trespass? Only kids on a dare. Or ghosts, I supposed.
A shiver tracked through me at the thought. Great Aunt Helga once said she thought the place was haunted. I was about to find out if that was her dementia speaking or the truth.
I drove the car up the drive, weaving around downed tree limbs and finally getting close enough to the huge stone building I could walk the rest of the way. A complete tree lay across the path ahead, and I shut off the engine. It ticked as I climbed out and grabbed my bag of essentials off the back seat.
The car locks cheeped when I pressed the button, and I strode the rest of the way toward my new home. I could come back for the rest of my things in the morning.
I stopped on the crushed stone path weaving toward my new home, taking it in with wide eyes, my bags sagging to the ground beside me.
Boy, did I have my work cut out for me. My great aunt had mentioned the place needed work, but this was nearly overwhelming.
Still, it was home, the only one I had. I’d cut all my ties when I moved out of my apartment. Everything I owned had been packed into my car or given away, since the estate was furnished. There was no going backward, only forward, even if the thought of living here and fixing it was intimidating.
Liftingmy arm, I tightened my fist, making a muscle, and reminded myself I was tough. I could do this.
The building sat at the top of a small hill, all dark gray stone that looked old and weathered. Three stories high and definitely imposing. In the moonlight, it looked like the kind of place that came with its own ghost stories.
Moonlight coasted across its slate roof and the tall gables, picking out bits of lichen and moss. A forest of ivy climbed one side of the structure, clawing up toward the third floor. That would have to be ripped off before it worked its way too deeply into the mortar and dislodged the stone slabs.
Faded wooden shutters clung to most of the windows, most lying askew. That could be fixed. A few windows had been boarded up, though the majority of them were intact, reflecting moonlight back at me.
A big wooden door hung in the center of the broad front porch, flanked by tall stained-glass windows. Real stained-glass windows. I’d only read about those online, and now I owned some. Me, Dazy.
Perched far above the entrance on the edge of the roof, a gargoyle jutted out like a sentinel. Its wings lay against its back, and its snarling face tilted downward, as if it had been waiting for me. And was thoroughly unimpressed. Uneasy, I stared up at it. A trick of the light made its eyes gleam.
Bag in hand, I strode up the broad stone steps and onto an overgrown porch with only a few punky boards, thankfully. I’d replace those before I fell through, but therest only appeared to need a pressure wash and a solid coat of paint.
My key wouldn’t open the front door, and that was a problem. I owned the place, but if I couldn’t get inside, I’d be sleeping in my car. Which might be the best option if the inside matched the outside. Surely my aunt had covered the furniture, and I’d find somewhat clean bedding inside a closet.
