Page 62 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“Hell no. Your house was the first haunted place I ever went inside, remember? I can’t even think of Redwood without shuddering.” He turned to me in the seat. “If I die tonight, will you delete my browser history? I don’t want people knowing I watch animated porn.”
I barked out a laugh. “You’re not going to die. Who knows, maybe the house isn’t even haunted.”
“Famous last words,” Carter muttered with a sigh.
Chapter Thirteen
The mansion was definitely haunted.
I could feel it as we drove through the front gate. The mansion towered over everything, the stone weathered from time, and there were so many windows I couldn’t count them all. My stomach tightened and my palms began to sweat as we approached the entrance. Every muscle in my body begged for me to flee.
It was the reaction most everyone had when seeingmyhouse, but I’d never felt it before. The mansion on Redwood, though, certainly did the trick. I hadn’t stepped a foot inside yet, and I already wanted to leave.
Something dark lived here.
“It’s a Gothic styled Victorian,” Carter explained, pointing at the arches. “Built in 1840, I think. It’s been renovated a little over the years, but they didn’t change much and stayed true to the original structure and design.”
I’d researched Victorian homes for a previous book and knew the style well. The High Victorian Gothic style had mainly been used for large public buildings, like churches or schools, but the wealthy also used it for their mansions. It could be identified by the unique arches of the windows and doorways, masonry construction, and the round turrets.
“How are you full of these random facts?” I asked him, mainly as a distraction from the fear coiling in my gut.
“I don’t know. It’s funny ‘cause I hate reading and stuff, but like, I enjoy learning about the history of places, especially if there’s something dark and twisted there. I can’t tell you much about the medieval era, but I can describe all the torture devices they had and how they used them.”
“Of course you can.”
“About time you got here,” Shane said, meeting us on the porch. It wasn’t hard to see why James had fallen for him; easy on the eyes, strong, and confident. Perhaps a bittooconfident. “We’re setting up your table now. It’s kind of a maze in here, so pay attention to where you’re going or you’ll get lost.”
“Too badyoucan’t get lost,” Carter said under his breath.
“Huh?” Shane asked, turning back to us as he’d started to walk off.
“Nothing.” Carter smiled sweetly.
I coughed to cover my laugh.
Shane looked at us like we were crazy before going inside.
“After you,” I said, motioning to the doorway.
Carter scoffed. “Dude, you’re the celebrity. Afteryou.”
“Celebrity, my ass.” I shook my head and walked across the threshold.
There was an instant change in temperature. The fall afternoon felt great, cool and crisp but holding a slight warmth as the sun shone down, but that faded away as soon as I entered the Redwood mansion. Bumps spread down my arms, the hair on my nape stood on end, and a deep chill settled in my bones.
The sheer magnificence of the interior was enough for me to momentarily forget about the unease clawing at my nerves, though.
A grand staircase fit for royalty waited straight ahead and curved as it stretched to the second floor, then curved more leading even higher. The mansion was too big for just one family; it could’ve housed several. The second level balcony had many closed doors and passageways. I wondered where they led.
A dome was directly above where I stood, but somehow, the light shining in only made the shadows more apparent. No amount of light or warmth would ever make this place welcoming.
People I didn’t know walked past us. They carried speakers, cables, and chairs. A poster of me hung from a display stand, with ‘Meet & Greet with Ben Cross!’underneath my author photo. The men carrying the speakers headed through an archway. I didn’t know where I was supposed to go, so I followed them into the other room.
James stood beside a fold-up table, draping a blue cloth over it. Red bangs fell into his eyes, and he used his fingers to brush them aside. He wore a fitted, V-neck shirt and jeans that hugged his legs perfectly, showing off the physique he’d worked so hard to have.
And for a moment, I remembered what it was like to love him.
He hadn’t known who I was when we’d met. He knew my name and loved my books, but he didn’t know my face. We went to a bar after meeting in a bookstore and drank the night away, talking and lusting for each other. We then went back to my place and tore each other’s clothes off, giving each other sloppy kisses.
