Page 3 of Daddy's Protection
Cami’s entire body tensed. Should she admit her fears? Or would her friends think she was a lunatic?
As she gazed into their eyes, she didn’t see a hint of judgement. Only concern. Iris and Lana loved her. She could open up to them.
“This is going to sound crazy, but… well, I think my house is haunted.”
Neither girl looked shocked.
“I’m sorry,” Iris said. “That would be scary.”
“Yeah, and you live there all alone, huh?” Lana added.
Cami nodded.
“Our house is haunted,” Iris stated as if it was perfectly normal.
Cami reared her head back. “It is?”
“Yep. Used to be owned by Theda Bara. She was an old actress in the Silent Era. Some other famous people lived there after her. I haven’t actually seen her. But I’ve felt her. Several times.”
Lana bobbed her head. “Me, too. She doesn’t feel mean or ominous or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. Her presence is sort of calming. Like she’s watching over us.” She grinned. “Plus, I’m a film nut. I’ve dreamed of going back in time and meeting some of those old stars. In a way, it’s like I have.”
The other girls laughed.
Cami wished she felt as chill about her own house. She definitely wasn’t cool with whoever—or whatever—was haunting it, though.
She was scared out of her mind!
“Just remember you’re always welcome at our place,” Iris said. “Hey, are you coming to our Halloween party?"
Halloween!Cami thought. More spookiness was the last thing she wanted. But there was no way she was going to miss out on the fun.
“You bet!”
“We’ll show you around then,” Iris continued. “And who knows? Maybe Theda will make an appearance.”
The Littles giggled and then hugged before Cami told them goodbye. She needed to get home and get to sleep.
Or try to sleep, at least.
Chapter 2
Cami’s home was a three-story structure that stood tall on a hilly street in Angelino Heights.
Like many of the houses in the neighborhood, it had been constructed in the 1890s in a Victorian style that featured peeking gables and an intricate carved railing on the porch, along with curved brackets and scrollwork. She couldn’t imagine the skill it had taken to build the place a hundred and thirty years ago. Obviously, it was of high quality as it withstood the test of time.
But it was spooky!
Pulling up to the curb, she studied her home in the late October darkness. She had the outside lights on, but it was still plenty creepy to her.
It didn’t help that each house on either side of her had glowing jack-o-lanterns and other Halloween decorations on their porches and in their yards.
One even had a coffin.
Yikes!
Her house didn’t need the decorations to look scary. It had a waist-high black wrought-iron fence around it. The gate opened at the steep cement staircase that led up the small hill thatmade up her front yard and to the covered porch. It was painted white—something she’d done to lighten it up—but it still kind of looked like thePsychohouse.
“Oh crap,” she said to herself quietly. “Please tell me Norman Bates doesn’t live in my basement or something.”
