The Demon of Mansfeld Manor

by S A Jacobs

  By the time I got in my truck, the headache had subsided. I drove straight to Kat’s mother’s house where Kat had been staying ever since her mom got sick. I parked my truck and got out to see Kat already coming out towards me. She looked spectacular. She was wearing jeans and a black V-necked t-shirt, and she looked beautiful. She quickly walked up to me and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Good morning sunshine!” she said with as much pep as a cheerleader.

  “Mmmmm, it certainly is now,” I replied.

  We got into the truck and started the short drive over to the Villa.

  “So, what is your master plan for today?” she asked.

  I looked at her with a smirk, and she playfully responded by hitting me on the shoulder.

  “No, I mean the house. What are we going to do today?”

  “I have no plan. There is far more to explore than we have time to see today, from the garages and outbuildings, to the pond and gardens. What peaks your interest?”

  “Well considering we have sun today, let’s start with the grounds and see what happens,” she replied.

  Soon, my truck was exiting the quiet road onto the rough overgrown drive of the estate. I parked in front of the house again. We got out of the truck and decided to start in the back of the house on the lakeshore side. We wandered through the terrace courtyard behind the house before we found the steps down to the lake. The steps were so overgrown I could barely see them. As we turned the corner, I immediately knew where we were. The wall and the fountain were there, exactly as I had dreamed them. That was, aside from the decrepit state they currently were in. For as well as the house itself was preserved, the grounds were nearly destroyed.

  I eyed Kat walking towards the center stairs down to the lake. She stopped and knelt, looking at what remained of the fountain channel, which ran the course of the stairs.

  “Oh my god!” she said. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  I approached her and looked at it. My eyes traveled down the steps. You couldn’t even see the landing. It was as if the fountain extended down into a complete forest.

  “Actually, I have. I’ve seen this… Well not like this. But this fountain, the way it originally was.”

  “What do you mean?” She looked at me, intrigued.

  “I mean this. I saw this. But perfectly clean. Walk down the stairs. I bet you anything, you will find a marble pool along the lakeshore down there.”

  She put her hands on top of mine. Her eyes were a storm of concern.

  “What do you mean? Did you see photos online or something?”

  “No! Fuck no! That would be logical. You’re right. I have never seen anything like this. Until last night. Last night I was here. Hell, you were here. We stood right here!” I snapped back.

  “Jim?” she asked, squeezing my hand.

  “It was a fucking dream! But not like a normal dream where you wake up and only remember blurs or a couple snapshots. This was more vivid. And we were here! Right here! But it was perfect. I can remember the details. Look at that wall.” I pointed to the crumbling wall behind us. “Did you know there are lamps that should be on either side of that fountain? Large black iron lamps, exquisitely forged, each with a white glass globe on them?”

  She just looked at me with that concerned expression.

  “Look, I have never seen this before. I have never been down here. I had only seen a photo of it at the Historical Society. But last night I dreamt of it with perfect clarity. I played it off as some crazy dream inspired by the photos I looked at. But here, standing here… I know it was more than the photos.”

  We sat down on the steps. I told her my dream and every detail I could recall. After I finished, she put her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek.

  “I will say, normally I would be excited to know you were dreaming of me. Well, I guess I still am. But this is a bit much to wrap my head around. So, is it wrong that I kinda want to go see if there’s still a pool down there?”

  “Why? I didn’t see you bring a swimming suit.” I smiled.

  She stood up and started slowly making her way down the steps.

  “Who said I would wear one if I did?” she said over her shoulder.

  I quickly followed her down to the landing. There, we fought our way through the brush to get to the stairs on the left.

  “Holy shit!” she yelled as she continued down. “There is a pool! Well, there was a pool, but it’s gonna take a hell of a lot of work for you to see me swimming in that anywhere but your dreams.”

  She was right. The far wall of the pool was only a few inches higher than the water level of Lake Michigan. The gentle waves of the lake rolled up and crashed onto what remained of the pool's wall. The brick terrace behind the pool was nearly destroyed. The ground below shifted to the point it looked more like the grounds of a fun house. The large granite pool house was covered with spray paint and resembled a building you would see in photos after a bombing in World War II.

  “I don’t think we are gonna get in there anytime soon,” I said.

  “Yeah, this is pretty depressing looking, but imagine what this had to be like back then,” she said dreamily. “You wake up, get a cup of coffee, stroll down to this incredible terrace and sit poolside without a care in the world.”

  “Well, I guess that is how I am supposed to make it again. But damn, I cannot even comprehend the amount of work that will take.” I felt defeated.

  “I know what you are supposed to do, but are you really going to live here?” she asked.

  “I really don’t know. I mean I haven’t even talked to anyone to see what it would take to make this place livable. But there are two things I guess I need to consider. First, financially speaking, I would be a complete fool not to do this. It’s kinda like, live in this fabulous mansion and then you will have enough money to do whatever you want for the rest of your life.”

  “You don’t really strike me as someone who is purely motivated by money,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Sure, we need money to survive and there is a certain amount of crap we have to do to ensure we have some. But beyond that, I don’t really see you being focused on it like your only goal is to get more money. You… well, I just think you are more likely to do what feels right to you and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “I suppose you’re right about that. But that kinda assumes I know what feels right. Sometimes I just… I dunno, I feel like I am wandering through life with no real direction.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found your path yet. I’m sure there is far more that you've done that you just don’t see. Anyway, what’s the second part?”

  “Do I have a choice?” The simple question rolled out of my mouth with no thought.

  Hearing myself ask it made my body tense with anxiety. With the inheritance, yes, I was receiving a lot, but it felt more like I was being thrust into a new life, a life not my own. A preset path I could not deviate from. The worst part was, I couldn’t even comprehend why I’d been chosen for this forced path.

  “What do you mean? Of course, you always have a choice. But what does that have to do with the second part?”

  “That is the second part. Look at it. You were there when they read the will to me. That whole thing was designed so I didn’t really have a choice. Sure, I don’t have to fix the place up. I can ignore the massive amount of money secured for restoration while this place sits unable to change hands until I die and lawyers figure out what to do.”

  She turned away from the pool to face me and grabbed my shoulders. “You’re right. You cannot just walk away and be a millionaire, but you were not one before any of this. You can forget about this house and just be you.”

  “I don’t know that I can. This is too ingrained in me. It’s really my birthright. They knew me fifty years before I was conceived and I’m pretty sure no one held my mom at gunpoint when she hooked up with my dad. There were no special doctors
who ensured I would be delivered on the day I was. Nobody forced my mom to name me James. They knew me. She knew me. I don’t really see what choice I have.”

  “Say you’re right. Say for some reason she did know you were coming. She had some vision of you being born or whatever. She knew where you began. But only you can choose where you go. It’s still your life. It is no different than an overbearing dad forcing a kid to go to medical school or to play football. Those kids still have a choice. This Will is your choice. Sure, it’s what she intended and what she wanted. But what about you? Maybe this is your path…. But maybe it’s not either, and you are the only one who can make that choice.”

  Hearing her say those words made me realize that even if I had a choice, I really didn’t. There was something growing inside me. I was a part of this house somehow, and there was something for me to accomplish here.

  We spent the rest of the day exploring the grounds of the estate. The grounds were absolutely massive. The garden area alone was the size of a football field.

  Beyond the gardens, on the southern side of the property, was a pond. The entire area was sectioned off from the immense gardens. The overgrown shrubs separating this area were nearly impenetrable. We struggled to break branches and clear enough of a path to even get close to the pond. As we neared the edge of the growth, we finally got a glimpse of what lay before us.

  The pond was more of a wading pool than a pond. It was a large oval, surrounded by short concrete walls. The image reminded me of an elaborate fountain in a park. A fountain where you could sit down on the edge and enjoy the day. Even from a distance, it was clear that this pond had suffered greatly from time and weather.

  The pond itself was intact more than all the fixtures surrounding it, but even it suffered. Statues that once surrounded the area lay half destroyed under the brush. On the far southern end of the pond was another building. It was like a large open-air patio shelter. It was immense. Roman-inspired granite walls rose up from the ground. The corners were marked with crumbling pillars. In the center was the entrance, a rounded doorway large enough to fit a car.

  The granite walls were covered with spray paint and it was difficult to even imagine how it should have looked or how it fit into everything. Despite the state it was in, it was clear that the entire area had once been just as majestic as the house itself.

  As my foot stepped out of the brush into this area, I froze. A cold wind howled through the trees and sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t place it, but something there felt wrong. Every other area of the house seemed to welcome me, but here, I almost felt forbidden to enter.

  I squeezed Kat’s hand and looked at her. She didn’t say a word, but I could see in her eyes that she too felt the same thing. The previously comforting look in her eyes had changed to terror.

  “Uh…You know, there is a ton of ground to cover on the property. Maybe we should check out the other side before it gets too late.” I tried not to show my looming apprehension.

  “You don’t have to make an excuse for me. This place is damn creepy!”

  We stepped back towards the house. Almost immediately, the winds died down. The hot sun again overtook the day.

  “Okay, I don’t have any clue what that was, but you felt it too, right?” I asked.

  “The wind? Yeah. If the house had felt like that, I wouldn’t have come back today. Something isn’t right there. You must have missed that area with my mom’s sage yesterday.” The edge of her mouth rose up in a smirk.

  “If sage can make that place feel comfortable, I will be converted into a true believer,” I said.

  Back at the front of the house, there was another drive, extending to the north side of the property. We casually walked down the drive. About fifty yards past the edge of the house, the trees opened, revealing a giant garage structure. I marveled at the size of the structure. There had to be at least ten garage doors, plus there was a second story. A line of boarded-up windows extended across the top of the building.

  The garage building was intact but looked far less stable than the main house did. The roof sagged horribly, and there were visible holes in it. The fact that it looked as if it could fall with the slightest breeze made us decide that we would tackle that on another day, probably sooner than the pond though.

  For the most part, we had fun exploring the place together. It gave me a better idea of just how vast this property was. I realized that restoring the house was one project, but restoring the grounds was an even larger undertaking. Beyond all the gardens and structures, there were acres upon acres of densely wooded land. It felt like it would take over a year for me to simply see every part of the property.

  Despite the rather serious conversation we had on the lake-front, the rest of the day was light-hearted. With every step we took and every conversation we shared, I felt closer to her. It was difficult for me to step back and think of it as a relationship. The word relationship to me had always conjured thoughts of frustration and awkwardness. With her though, everything felt so natural. I didn’t have to think about what to say or do. I was just me. For the first time in my life, it felt like being me was the right thing.

  As the sun started to set, we decided to call it a day. As I drove her home, I realized it was Sunday. That meant she would have to return to work, putting an end to our day-long explorations of the house, at least until the next weekend. Instead, we decided to meet for dinner on Monday and just see where everything went.

  As I dropped her off, we kissed, and I wanted so badly to keep the night from ending. The only way I could let her walk out of my truck was knowing in my heart that today was just the beginning. I knew there would be many more days with her.

  8

  With Kat at work, I was able to focus on the house. I was hesitant to start calling the contractors for the renovation though. When I was there, I realized there was something beautiful about the undisturbed nature of it. I knew that once the renovation started, nothing would remain untouched. It was all a game in my head. I knew that soon enough I would be calling contractors and they would roll in, but right now I was at peace with everything the way it was.

  I decided to take another stab at my own research into the property. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that I had exhausted everything I could find on the internet about it. Unsure of where to go next, I called Paul.

  Knowing Paul’s uncanny skill for finding information that no one else could, I figured he would be my best bet. With a short conversation, I’d given him his mission. He already had the address and Ida’s name. I added Samuel to the mix and asked Paul to find absolutely anything he could about him.

  When I hung up the phone, I was left once again with my own thoughts. I felt like a caged tiger pacing back and forth. I knew it would be some time before Paul came back with anything. It wasn’t thoughts of the house tormenting me, but thoughts of Kat. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  After a few minutes of obsessively thinking about her, I decided I needed refocus my mind. The only thing I could think of to shift my thoughts away from her was to work out. I couldn’t bring myself to drive to the gym, so I opted to go for a run. With the wind blowing against me, and my headphones blaring in my ears, my thoughts drifted away. With every mile my feet carried me, my thoughts became clearer.

  The next thing I knew, I was in a different place completely. The small forest preserve I was running in was gone. The lush gardens of the house now surrounded me. Everything was pristine. The change startled me. I stopped abruptly. I looked behind me and could see the house in the distance. The spot where the lush gardens succumbed to the forest beyond, lay only steps away. The music was still playing in my headphones, but I was hearing something else. Beyond the thundering drums and low guttural guitar riffs, was a voice.

  “Discover his secrets and bury him with them.”

  The voice repeated over and over. Each time the phrase was stated it became louder and louder until the music was drowned out. As soon as the
shock of the scenario passed. I ripped my earbuds from my ears. Instantly, I was back in the forest preserve as if nothing happened.

  I trudged back to my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder. I didn’t know what to think. Was it a blackout, a dream, or had I gone nuts? I walked into my apartment where the blast of cold A/C nearly dropped me to my knees. I grabbed a towel and dried the sweat from my body. Then, I heard the alert from my phone. It was an email response from Paul.

  The thoughts of whatever had happened on my run disappeared as I read Paul’s email.

  He stated that he hadn’t been able to find out much about the house beyond what I’d already learned. However, when he got to Samuel, there was a massive amount of information. Most appeared to be benign, typical things like parents, when he was born, marriage and divorce dates, etc. His email went on to talk of Samuel’s disappearance. It was like Florence had stated. There was news about him missing. There was a police report filed and a full investigation. According to the report, he was last seen talking about going back to the Villa despite no longer being welcome there. There was also a comprehensive search of the Villa’s grounds for him and interviews with the staff, all yielding nothing.

  What I found even more interesting were the large number of police reports filed for missing persons. These reports all seemed to align with what Florence had mentioned. In almost all the reports, Samuel was interviewed, and the location of interest was the Villa. In every single one, the investigation just stopped following the interview with Samuel. Either Samuel was completely unlucky that all these occurrences randomly happened near him or there was much more to the story.

  I opened the last attached file. It was titled Samuel Leopold Muller and was about the death of Sam’s and Ida’s son. The file included numerous newspaper reports, as well as more formal reports. Tales ranged from the typical to the outrageous. There was no autopsy done. Today that would have been considered suspicious, but for those times it seemed as though it could have been innocent. Yet this opened the doors for the news to run wild with speculation. There were accounts of Ida attending a dinner party when she was told of the news. Her response was nothing more than a stoic nod while she continued the party as if nothing happened. Other reports showcased the exact opposite in her response.