ONE
CAMRYN
A senseof foreboding wraps around me as I exit the backseat of the car.
Up ahead, a Victorian-style mansion framed by dead, gnarly trees appears, menacing and imposing, with peeling blue paint, boarded-up windows, and wilted rose bushes. It has seen better days.
Mom shuts the car door and quickly wipes the look of weariness from her face. Not only has she lost her husband in the last year, but also the house. Now she’s ladened with me and my stepbrother, Dominic, our golden retriever, and a derelict house that is, according to her, all we can afford.
As I stare at the property, I can understand why.
It’s a shithole.
A warm breeze feathers through the overgrown grass as Dominic exits the vehicle, slams the door shut, then opens the trunk and hauls the suitcases outside. His gray T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders when he walks past me in a cloud of citrus and leather, dragging his suitcase behind him. I let my gaze wander over his muscled back and light blue jeans, which hug his ass.
The material of his T-shirt sticks to a streak of sweat between his shoulder blades, somehow making him even more attractive. It doesn’t matter that he’s an asshole or that he hates me; I can’t keep my eyes off him.
Our dog, Bruno, sniffs the dried lawn as he follows Dominic, his tail wagging.
The heat from the sun beats down on my head, and when I step forward, the smell of something rotten drifts to my nose.
I look down at the ground and pause at the sight of a decomposing rat surrounded by a swarm of flies.
Saliva fills my mouth as my stomach turns.
“That’s a creepy tree,” Mom mumbles, staring at a large oak tree outside the house. “Are you coming?” she asks me, grabbing hold of the handle of her suitcase.
Tearing my gaze away from the dead rat, I shake off the feeling of foreboding that refuses to let go, clinging to my skin like the sheen of sweat at my nape.
I follow her to the porch and haul my heavy suitcase up the steps. Dominic is already inside, no doubt picking his bedroom before I can get a chance at dibs.
As I enter the house, a shiver runs through me, and I fight the urge to tuck tail and run. There’s something in the air. Something…dark.Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. I can sense it.
I pause, waiting and listening.
“I know it’s in a state of disrepair,” Mom says, sweeping her eyes over the large hallway. “But as you can see, it still has its original Victorian detailing.”
She flashes me a hopeful smile, and I smile back as I walk past her, not wanting to make this even harder. But I can’t ignore my unease.
Overhead, a massive chandelier covered in dust and cobwebs gives me the creeps.
“It has one in every room.”
Well, that’s reassuring…
Swallowing thickly, I gaze away and enter the spacious living room. Standing in the middle of the space, I take in the dusty sheets on the furniture, peeling wallpaper, the chandelier overhead with broken strings of crystals, and ripped curtains.
Mom points out the positives. “Look at the handcrafted built-in bookshelves and millwork. I think it'll be perfect for us once we’ve cleaned this place up.” She walks up to the large, antique-looking fireplace and runs her hand over the dusty top. “Every bedroom has one, too, which will be useful in winter.”
The soft patter of claws on the wooden floor announces Bruno’s arrival as he enters the room, wagging his tail and sniffing the floor.
Dominic sucks the air out of the room as he swamps the doorway with his towering build, his brown eyes sweeping over the gaps in the floorboards and old portraits on the walls.
“Couldn’t have found us a nicer place,Mom,” he sneers in that condescending tone of his that always puts me on edge.
“This was all we could afford, Dominic,” she replies tiredly, pleading with her eyes for him not to make this harder than it already is.
She lost her husband.
