Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I stared up at the massive house, almost gothic in appearance. Just how old was it? From the scant amount of research I was able to complete, it seemed nobody could really agree. Some websites said a hundred years, others said two hundred, and the book at Mom’s house had said more, but it had been forever since I’d read it…
Pain stabbed me in the chest.
Gone, she was gone, lost somewhere. Was she afraid? Panicking? A sense of abandonment washed over me again.
At least the voice had left, the familiar creepy voice that haunted my dreams now, that made me nearly crash myself into a tree.
It had completely disappeared as if it had never even existed.
Was it a coincidence that the one place I saw her last was the same place I had to stay? The same place that may have answers?
A shiver trickled down my spine.
No. Because after the life I’d had, I didn’t believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason, and there were forces that were in constant battle with each other; good, evil, it didn’t matter who you were, nobody was immune, least of all someone like me.
I steeled my expression as the gates cracked open wide. It was a start, right? I sucked in a breath when I noticed the rose gardens on the right. Gorgeous pink and white blooms stood witness to my arrival, despite the cool ocean temperatures. A soft semi-luminous mist seemed to hover above them, almost making them look frozen in time.
I shook my head. Probably a trick of the light.
Green ivy wrapped tight around the building in a way that was so ethereal that I wondered if this was the same house that inspired fairy tales. It was three stories tall, and despite its age, it wasn’t crumbling at all. If anything, the gothic theme was a direct contrast to its almost youthful appearance.
Twelve steps led toward the massive iron doors. They were in excellent condition; the only damage I could see was on the twelfth step, which was broken nearly in half, not crumbling but with a split down the middle that seemed an almost impossible blemish for cement because once cement started to break, it continued to break. Maybe it was recent?
I stepped to the side of the crack and rang the doorbell, one of the only modern things near the entrance.
My eyes tried to avoid the demon-like appearance of the door knocker. Who the hell kept something like that on their house? It was a dark black with two horns protruding from the forehead, a forked lizard tongue, and red eyes. Not the most welcoming sight.
My vision blurred a bit, maybe from the pain, maybe from something else, as the door swung open, revealing what appeared to be the same cranky man who’d saved me.
“B-Benjamin Wells?” I held out my hand.
The man was staggeringly handsome and older than my eighteen years. He had glossy salt and pepper hair, looked extremely fit, towered over my five-foot-four frame easily, and was wearing black trousers with a blue button-down shirt that brought out his eyes.
Blue eyes lasered in on me, his mouth pulled into a tight line as those same eyes narrowed in inspection from top to bottom, then all over again. “Can I help you?”
I smiled, hoping it would lessen the intensity of his gaze, which after a few awkward seconds, I realized, was only making him appear more irritated. “I hope so.”
He clearly saw any sort of emotion other than anger as a waste of energy. Either that or he had a limit on smiles he was allowed to distribute on any given day and had reached that limit.
I ignored the hammering of my heart and said, “You saved me.”
Wow, could my voice sound any more breathy and needy? I was trying to go for the whole thankful heroine. Instead, I sounded like I was starring in my own porno. Good job girl, good job.
Plainly, grief was having a negative effect on me.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a bottle of Prisoner wine, the most expensive I could find in that small town, with my fake ID. God, Mom would be so mad at me, but it was the only idea I had, and obviously, news didn’t spread fast because the girl at checkout didn’t even blink an eye, granted she didn’t really look at me either, more over me, but that was beside the point. “I just wanted to say thank you and—”
He jerked the wine out of my hands, stared down at the label, and scowled like I’d chosen wrong, but in seconds he was already closing the door behind him.
“Wait!” I threw my foot out, and instantly my entire body seized with pain. I breathed through it. “I thought we could share a glass. Together.”