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Oops. I knew I sounded pushy and probably pretty antagonistic, but I was in my journalist mode and needed to get some sort of concrete answer from this man before I would have to figure out how to take matters into my own hands.
“I’m sorry, Logan, it seems the ad wasn’t clear,” my employer responded, his voice much more pointed now. “All I need you to do is take up space on that property. Make sure no shitty kids spray paint the siding, andmind your own business.” He huffed with frustration while trying to remain as cordial as he was able, his smooth non regional dialect roughening a bit at the edges.
He had no idea how deeply he was damning himself in my eyes by reacting to my entirely innocent questions with such a defensive tone. If I had been the one who’d just spent that kind of money and made that kind of investment, I would consider it a favor to be informed of potential real estate roadblocks.
That is, unless he already knew everything I was telling him and he didn’t expect me to be smart enough to catch on.
“You’re right,” I said with a polite sigh, hoping my change in tone would be enough to calm him down and not immediately fire me. “I should have known you have everything under control. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Logan,” my employer said with a matching sigh. “I do appreciate you being out there while I can’t. If you’ve decided this position isn’t going to work for you, don’t be afraid to reach out. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held against your will or anything like that.”
“Oh, no, sir,” I said with a heavy layer of sweetness that I hoped didn’t sound too fake. “I have no intentions of leaving or quitting or anything like that. I am just naturally curious, and I’m afraid that sometimes turns into plain nosiness.”
Mr. Silver laughed coolly. “Well, I’m surprised that natural curiosity didn’t have you researching the place before moving in.”
A tiny tendril of sour anger caressed the back of my throat. I hated that he’d been sort of right with that last barb, but hindsight was twenty-twenty and all that. Plus, was he challengingmystory? I couldn’t tell for sure, but rather than press the issue and continue weaving this tangled web, I just let out a girlish giggle and thanked him for his time before we both hung up the phone.
Something was going on in this house. I had plenty of puzzle pieces, but not quite enough to get a full picture. I bounced my knee and looked about the room absentmindedly until my eyes fell on the witch bells I’d hung on my door. Could it be possible that my grandmother’s lessons in superstition had spared me from being the one whose blood was wiped up with a fancy hand towel?
With all my heart, I wished my grandmother was still alive to tell me how to handle a mansion full of monsters, but she wasn’t. All I was sure of was that she would tell me to follow my instincts, burn some sage, and meditate. She was always of the mind that everything you would ever need to know was right under your nose if you were patient enough to listen. Maybe if I followed one of her rituals, I could attempt to communicate with whatever was sharing this house with me and causing so much harm. It was a risk, but I wasn’t sure what other options there were if I genuinely wanted to get to the bottom of this. My grandmother, onmultiple occasions,had told me about how she would commune with spirits, nature, goddesses, and the moon. If it worked for her, maybe it would work for me.
Granted, she had also been the only member of her retirement home’s “Witchy Woman Club,” and most people that had met her had thought she was a bit off her rocker. I never had, and now that I was facing a house that had stolen many women’s lives, I was thankful I had her teachings on my side to lead me through.
I wished she could see how her take on religion, her spirituality, and all the parts of her that she felt she had to hide in public were becoming more mainstream. So many books and movies now featured young women coming into their power and embracing it with love and certainty. Hell, I couldn’t even mindlessly scroll on TikTok without being walked through how another witch goes about her practice. At the end of the day, the thought of “witches” had transitioned away from the creepy old lady stereotype, scaring kids and brewing potions, and I knew she would have liked to see it.
I thought back to all the summers I had spent with my grandmother out on her small patch of land in the mountains and tried to recall all the little details of her meditation routines. She was so casual about all of it, so many years of practicing made her rituals looped into her day-to-day, no different from how I chose to brush my teeth in the shower on busy mornings. Her rituals were part of her, but I laid back on the twin-sized bed in my starry bedroom and tried to take apart my memories piece by piece to remember specifically how she did it.
Sage was always important. The variety didn’t matter to her, and I had memories of her settling for dried sage from the ninety-nine cent spice shaker from the grocery store when there weren’t other options. Salt was important as well, and candles. The good news for me was that none of the items on my list would be particularly hard to find. Candles might force me to head into town, but I had a feeling that I’d find some long-forgotten candle sticks in a drawer somewhere in this massive house.
Excited to finally have some direction toward some answers, I waltzed down the hallway to the bathroom to effectively wash off the remains of the day before. With any luck, I would be able to identify how many creatures actually resided in this place, and what they were doing here.
Chapter9
Logan
It didn’t take long to arm myself with all the necessary tools from my list. I found a shaker of salt on the large dining room table. I thought it was just a decoration at first, like set dressing for a real estate open house, but a tiny shake in my hand confirmed it was actually meant to be used. The dining room table was also where I happened to find plenty of white candles perfect for spellwork, sitting unused in elaborate antique candlesticks and one candelabra centerpiece. If I had to guess, I bet whoever had staged the property for sale had probably done a number, making some of the spaces live up to at least a fraction of their ultimate potential.
The house had been oddly quiet, devoid of any unusual activity, and I wondered if the creatures had some sort of sixth sense for my intentions, even though I hadn’t even spoken them out loud quite yet.
That changed when Blair video-called me around noon just as I had taken the first bite of my lunch, probably eager to get the scoop on what had happened with Jake the night before. I propped up my phone against the vase on the kitchen table and continued eating my pre-packaged garden salad and grilled cheese while we talked.
“Hey,” I answered with a mouthful of crunchy lettuce. “What’s up?”
“What do youmean,‘what’s up’? You know exactly what is up,” Blair snapped. “Now, stop playing coy and tell me how it went last night with that boy from the bar.”
Blair knew me better than anyone, and I was thankful I had my lunch to hopefully distract from any obvious facial expressions that might clue her in that something wasn’t right. I sincerely didn’t want her to panic or lose her shit before I even had the opportunity to figure out all the mysteries myself.
“It actually went super well,” I said, choosing to just go ahead with a little—big—white lie. “I’m hoping to see him again, but if I don’t, you know, it’s not the end of the world.”
“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, Logan. I’m so here for it,” she said with a laugh. “So, spill the beans, dude! Tell me about him.”
“Well,” I said as I set down my fork. “His name is Jake.” I nearly said his namewasJake. “He’s also a journalism major. He’s super cute in like a grungy skater sort of way, and he was a perfect gentleman. He actually didn’t really want to come back to the house with me because the whole town thinks it’s like, mega haunted, but he ended up coming back, anyway.”
Blair clapped her hands together like she was on a cheer squad. “Hell yeah, Jake! Braving the big bad mansion for the lady.” She then leaned much closer to the camera. “So, how far did you go? First base? Second? Did you see his di—”
“Hey, now!” I interrupted and put my nose in the air comically. “A lady doesnotkiss and tell.”
“Oh, please. Logan, if you’re a proper lady, then I’m Kate effing Middleton. Butfine. Be that way.” She rolled her eyes playfully.
