Page 1 of Haunted Heart
ONE
Rule numberone of a haunted house is usually “No Running.”
If I had a sign posted, it would probably list “don’t fall in love with the two-hundred-year-old poltergeist” at the top.
“Don’t go into the cellar” is a good one too.
The house is a couple centuries old, but the padlock and chain are brand new.
I replaced them last month before the old metal finally succumbed to rust.
Grabbing the cold metal, I give it a shake, doing my nightly check that everything is safe and secure.
“No one needs to go down there, ever.” The house isn’t mine, but I like to think of myself as its caretaker.
I like to think of myself ashercaretaker.
I look up the siding to the window where a dim light flickers. The paint is chipped and flaking. Some of the boards have begun to crumble. Maybe I’ll ask her if I can fix them this summer when the air doesn’t hold this sour chill.
There are a few other things on my checklist, but the sun has started to set. My time is running out.
I hurry around the side of the house and up the porch to where I left my bags.
But when I open the door and let it swing wide on creaking hinges, someone behind me shrieks.
“Genevieve, wait!”
A shadowy figure across the field runs toward me, but as soon as I see her coppery braids flailing, I know it’s not some well-intentioned stranger trying to stop me from going into the house.
It’s just Minnie.
My twin sister bolts up the stairs. Her boot heels thud on the boards, but she stops a good five feet from the open door.
Julia doesn’t let her inside anymore, and Minnie’s smart enough to respect her unspoken banishment.
She gulps air and collapses forward, hands on her knees. “I need a page from The Book.”
The Book.
Minnie and I have never had a problem sharing, but Ican’tlet her take it. Not tonight. Not until I’m done.
“Not a chance.”
“Please? Chad is coming over and I need it.”
Our “boy problems” couldn’t be more different.
“I can’t. If you want it, you’ll either have to wait or memorize what you need in the next five minutes.”
She shakes her head, braids whipping. “There’s a third option.”
She takes another step, and I move between her and the bags.
“I swear on everything unholy, I will not take it off this porch.”
I hesitate, but she swore… And Minnie never breaks promises to me.
I look past her as I pull the green leatherbound book from one of the bags. She takes it slowly, hefting into one arm before she starts flipping through the pages.
