I walk straight for the house. The trees, the flowers, the plants, I don’t see any of it right now, like I normally would. He’s inside every one of my brain cells. What had he said? “Here visiting”, and “probably.” That was pretty vague, but he thanked me when I invited him to come to the shop, so maybe I will see him again.
Those eyes, I didn’t know eyes came in shades of gray like that, as if a wild storm was going on inside him. He sounded that way too, now that I think about it, all moody and full of turmoil. And his hair, girls pay a fortune for highlights like that, all gold and bronze mixed with the brown. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.
I trip over a tree root and stumble. I can hear my grandmother’s voice in my head say, “Quit daydreaming, Julie,” but I find it nearly impossible to focus. I try to watch the pinecones and the rust colored needles littering the trail beneath my leather boots, but all I can do is marvel at how good my foot and ankle feels. Everlasting warmth from a touch; is that possible? Did Nathaniel practice healing magic on me? Is that why there are butterflies dancing a samba inside my belly?
Nathaniel, Nathan, I try out his name in my mind. He’s a rather nice looking Nathan. Not just nice, I correct, more like, let’s go camping so I can watch you climb mountains and sit next to you in the firelight, and well, anything where I watch your lean body and intense eyes.
Something hits me on the head. “Hey!”
I look around for my assailant; it was a small pine branch now lying innocently on the ground. Okay, okay, I tell myself. If nature is knocking on my head, I better pay attention and get grounded. Wearing my head on straight is always a good idea. Besides, I may never see his serious and oh-so-cute face again. That would be a real pity. Where did that come from? Jules, get a grip on reality for criminy’s sake.
Chapter Four: The Lure
Just ahead I see the tall pine that marks the shortcut to my backyard. It stands taller than its fellows and is marked with a deep burn all the way down its trunk where it was struck by lightning. Sacred wood, my grandmother calls it, filled with the spirit of the thunder beings, and very useful. I imagine I can feel her awe and respect for the tree and I pat the old trunk as I pass by, out of respect for my grandmother, and the tree too.
There’s no sign of Jared, which makes me think Carrie didn’t call him. I’m so grateful I don’t have to go to school with people like Ashley and Carrie anymore. My first year in college had been a huge relief. No drama, and no cliques. I was surrounded by normal people trying to get an education, and it was great. Jared, on the other hand, thrives on popularity and drama as much as I want to avoid it. He welcomes it in; bringing it to himself, to me, and our house. He’s an irresistible magnet who attracts any kind of girl, musicians, hippies, druggies, business types, whoever he comes across. Everyone seems to get sucked into his magnetic field. Maybe he’s the sun and the rest of us revolve around him.
But lately, he’s been bringing around a different crowd. Grungy and unsavory kids; I call them kids but they’re only a year or two younger than myself. I guess it’s because their maturity level is so young. If he keeps bringing these kids around I’m going to have to say something to him because I don’t trust them in the house. He needs to stay focused on his music. He was born with this awesome personality and loads of talent. If he can make it into the music industry he’ll do really well. Or, he should start college. Jared has other ideas when it comes to continuing his education.
I turn off the trail, heading for the back of the house, and see Jared’s dark head ducking through the wire fence.
“Ahoy there!” I call out.
He looks up with a slight scowl. “I thought you were drowning in Forge Creek or something. Carrie Calloway just called and said I needed to go get you.”
“I was, but someone else came along.” I wiggle my muddy wet boot at him. I’m hesitant to say Nathan’s name out loud for some unexplainable reason.
“Yeah? You trying to get at some plant or something?”
Put off that he immediately assumes my accident had anything to do with my obsession with wild crafting; I purse my lips together before responding, recalling the many cuts, scrapes, bruised knees, and twisted ankles after past forages. “No, I… a log shifted under my foot and, well let’s just say, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, literally.”
He raises an eyebrow at me and a slow grin crawls across his face as, I imagine, the image of my predicament forms in his brain.
I give him the most deadly look I can muster. “Don’t laugh. I could’ve died out there, or broken my ankle.”
“Only you, Jules. Hey, good thing you’re back, we have to go. Now.”
Turning from me he strides off, swaggering like a sailor on his first day of shore leave.
“Go where?” I call after him.
“Hey,” He turns so he’s walking backward through the woods. He’s looking at my leg. “Do you need to go to the emergency room?”
“No,” I say feeling defensive about it. I wish these guys would quit asking if I need medical help. I’m a big girl, I would say something if I did.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad, I was just checking. You’d be upset if I didn’t ask. Guys can never win.” He shakes his head at me, but incongruously he still flashes his white teeth in a grin.
“Don’t ever talk about my underwear again. And you didn’t answer me.”
“We’re going to go meet Lance De’Lao,” he states with a distinct air of importance on his good humored face.
“I’m not going anywhere but inside to get out of these wet clothes.”
As we cross our backyard I hear car doors slam closed. “Who’s here?” I’m getting curious about what Jared’s up to.
“That’s Caleb and the guys. They’re waiting for us.”
“Jared, what’s going on?” I let him hear my impatience. It doesn’t faze him one bit. He has an extra bounce to his step and he won’t quit smiling.
He prolongs answering me like pulling taffy, stretching it out and making me wait. I’m really not in the mood. He vaults over the deck railing instead of using the steps. His smile is as big as the Cheshire cat’s. He looks down at me as if I’m one of his loyal subjects. “Lance De’Lao wants to hear the band play today, at his house. It’s unbelievable! This is even better than when I met the King of Amsterdam.”
His smile is so big I have to smile back at him even though I have no idea who Lance is. “The King you’re referring to grows pot, he’s not a real king, you cretin. All right, so who’s Lance De’-whatever?”
“He’s the owner of a new independent record label and…” Jared jumps onto the porch railing, like he’s standing on an imaginary mountain top. He looks down at me with his huge grin. “He’s the son of Lawrence De’Lao, CEO and founder of Shrine Records and… whoa!”
At that moment a flash of black and white flaps by my head, zooms past Jared’s leg, and careens into the screen door. “Yikes,” I exclaim as the magpie shakes itself and takes off again. Über bad luck. Death knocking at our door is really terrible. What is going on today?
“Did that crazy bird follow you home or what?”
I look up at him and don’t speak up about the bad luck. Why ruin his good mood? Crossing my fingers behind my back and uttering a silent prayer, I hope it’s enough to ward off any ill will the magpie just brought to our house. At least the bird didn’t die. That has to count for something.
Apparently unfazed, Jared does a perfect front flip off the deck railing, his agile body tucks into a tight circle and he lands in front of me with a light thump and a little poof of dust around his shoes.
“Lance De’Lao is looking for new bands to sign, and get this… he bought Castle Hill. And, he built a recording studio inside of it.”
Distracted by the bird, it takes an extra second to realize what I just heard him say. “Castle Hill, wow, recording studio, really?”
“So you’re in right? You have to come with us, we need you.” Jare
d is almost begging.
My brother’s best friend Caleb sticks his spiky blond haired head out of our back door. “You’re back already. Great, let’s go! Oi, need the hospital or an amputation over there?” He smiles and waits for a reply.
I roll my eyes at him and waggle my foot. With a look of satisfaction he disappears back inside.
“You want to go see it, don’t you?” Jared asks, but he already knows I do.
∞
As we turn off the highway and onto the dirt road in Caleb’s minivan, I immediately notice the lack of teeth-rattling washboards. When I’ve taken this road in the past for access to hiking trails, the ruts were bad enough to give my car at least one new squeak, but not today. Gravel filled potholes and fresh grader marks lead the way through the forest toward Castle Hill. Someone’s gone to great expense to repair the road, and if I had to guess, I’d say it must have something to do with the new owner.
Sometime in my before life, that is before my Dad died, he told us he’d been to the castle when he was a kid, going with his parents who worked there for a short time. He said it was an impressive gothic castle in the middle of the woods, and it had once been a vacation destination for the extremely rich. He also told Jared and me it was the most haunted place he’d ever been to, and we should never go there. My grandmother verified my father’s story but she’d never tell us anything in detail. She made us promise not to step a foot near it. That hadn’t been a problem. The entire property, for all I know, is fenced and I’ve heard the castle was sealed up like a maximum security prison. I hesitate, now that it’s too late to turn back, remembering my promise to Grandma to stay away from Castle Hill.
As we approach the iron gates, the van slows down. The wrought iron bends and curls in a scrolling design both delicate and dominating. The bars are imbedded into a stacked stone wall to the left and to the right for as far as I can see. It clearly states its boundary from the surrounding forest and the spiked tops are an obvious reminder of what side we’re on. I bite my lower lip instead of mentioning our long ago promise to Grandma. At this point, hauntings and promises won’t stop Jared.
Caleb lowers his window. He reaches out and presses a white button on a security pad. With his arm sticking out of the window, Caleb flips the bird to Derrick and Dan, the rest of the band members, idling behind us in Dan’s Subaru. I turn in my seat to see Dan return the greeting with his finger and a smile. Then we hear a crackle of static on the intercom.
A pleasant female voice says, “Yes, who is calling please?”
“Caleb Pomeroy and our band, Mostly Mayhem.”
“Of course, please come up to the main house.”
A small blip of worry crosses my inner radar about my broken promise. I reassure myself silently; Grandma Charlotte and my own father have been here, and nothing happened to them. Jared and I will be fine.
The gate opens and we continue up to the castle. The popping of gravel under the tires ceases as the drive is now covered with smooth blacktop.
“Do you have any idea how many famous people have stayed up here?” Caleb asks.
I can hear the hint of awe in his voice.
“Yeah loads, but all those people are in nursing homes now, or dead,” Jared says.
“Hey, when did the castle catch on fire?” Caleb asks.
“Our Grandmother said the mid-eighties. The place has been empty ever since,” Jared says.
“So what happened? I heard they never did figure out how it started,” Caleb says.
I can feel it building. Caleb wants to talk about the rumors. Drama, they both thrive on it.
“That politician or his wife, you know the ones whose kid disappeared, maybe they did it,” Jared says, guessing.
“They never found the boy. Supposed to have been an animal attack,” Caleb says.
“Maybe the kid set the fire and then got attacked by a bear when he was making a break for it.”
“You two sound like gossiping old ladies. And that kid disappeared years before the place burned down,” I say, correcting their exaggerations.
Jared’s imagination swells like a cyst. “Did anyone die in the fire?”
“I don’t know, but more than one person bit the big one up here. Pretty creepy, right? I bet they’re still hanging around too.”
I watch the forest drift past the windows of the van and try to tune out the cackling hens in the front seats. The van has been steadily climbing since we left the highway. How much farther can it be? We’re almost to the base of the steepest part of the mountain already. From here, its craggy peak resembles a castle and I wonder if Castle Hill is named after the building, or the mountain, or both. My anticipation grows the closer we get and I can all but taste the fulfillment of the lure. Castle Hill has always been a local mystery, and one I want to experience.
My thoughts are interrupted by Jared.
“Jules.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you’ll be able to see anything?”
Unfortunately I know what he is referring to with his emphasis on the word see but I don’t want to oblige him. “I’m not Grandma, you know. You guys think I’m just like her, but I’m not.”
“Yeah, but you’ve said more than once you thought a ghost was hanging around.”
I dart a glance at Caleb to see if he’s paying much attention to this line of conversation and of course he is. I don’t like being thought of as weird, or as a witch, like Ashley’s been telling people lately. It makes me uncomfortable that I can feel cold spots in a room when no else does or that people’s feelings toward me are often transparent. Jared and Caleb both seem to get some kind of perverse entertainment from my sensitive nature.
Jared isn’t going to drop the subject. “You have to tell us if you see anything.”
I look heavenward for patience. “It’s not like that, and no, I don’t have to tell you anything.”
An imaginary — I hope — creepy crawly thing runs down my back as I remember the feeling in my room earlier today and again in the kitchen, like someone was watching me. Even on my walk I kept having the feeling I wasn’t alone. After a while I have to make myself ignore feelings like that, otherwise I’ll find paranoia fast becoming my friend. No thank you very much. I didn’t mention any of this to Jared because I didn’t want the needling that inevitably follows.
Jared is turned in his seat looking back at me. “Grandma thinks you just don’t pay attention to your abilities.”
“How do you know?” I ask, letting him hear my accusatory annoyance.
“Because she told me.”
“What abilities was she talking about?” And why has she never told me?
Jared doesn’t answer me, instead he says, “Look, we’re here.”
Chapter Five: Stumbling Through a Private Tour
The minivan bumps over a stone bridge as we take in the sight of a mansion overlooking a small lake. I had imagined a monstrous castle straight from Europe, with towers and maybe a moat or something, but Castle Hill is more of a stone manor house with a lot of gothic flair. One section appears to be three stories high but the rest is only two. Pointed arched windows grace the entire upper story, but below on the first level, they are tall narrow rectangles filled with leaded glass. Adding to the old world style and elegance of the castle, the doors curve into matching pointed arches. A three story round tower takes up the entire southeast corner and is topped with a shiny copper spire. The gutters, downspouts, and cauldrons of freshly potted flowers also gleam with new copper.
We make a sweep around an expanse of neatly manicured green lawn and park near the front entrance. No one says anything as we stare wide eyed at the covered entrance and the massive wood door.
The guys jump out and head toward the castle. As I duck out of the van my toe catches on the doorsill. I barely manage to stay upright by grabbing the door itself, but it slides closed, straight for my face. I dodge it just in time and try to pretend I meant to do that. I look around to see if anyone els
e noticed my blunder and see Jared grinning at me. I shoot death rays at him with my eyes, but he ignores them and turns back to the castle.
I remind myself to be extra careful this evening. When I’m distracted, or nervous, I get clumsy and downright dangerous. That had to be the reason I had the accident at Forge Creek. A mountain lion is definitely distracting, and I have to admit part of me is still distracted by Nathan. He is too cute and so, hmm… different from other guys. Tonight is so important for Jared and the band. I can’t embarrass myself, or them.
The enormous door in front of us is carved with a depiction of the mountains and the wildlife. Enchanted with the details of the carving I find myself staring at a miniature fox as one half of the door swings open. The source of the pleasant voice from the call box greets us.
“Welcome. I am Yvette, Lance’s assistant. Please, come in.”
Yvette is head to toe shades of chocolate and caramel; caramel skin, milk chocolate almond eyes, and dark chocolate hair. Even her tailored suit is creamy white chocolate. I look down at my thirty second outfit, a long jean skirt and Mary Janes, without socks. I hadn’t even changed my grimy T-shirt from my walk. I tuck my hair behind my ear and look around. At least I remembered to wash the poultice off my arm.
Jared makes introductions as I stand in awe at my surroundings.
A grand staircase looms in front of us. To my right, through an arched doorway, I see a spacious living room. The front wall is lined with leaded glass windows, allowing lots of natural light to come in. On the back wall of the room is an enormous fireplace, large enough to warm the side of an elephant. The smell of the leather couches and chairs reek of class. The dark stained side tables showcase small sculptures and heavy framed paintings decorate the walls. Even the rugs look expensive and immaculate.
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