She sighs and sits down. "I wish I could cry over your father’s death, but you know I closed that chapter a long time ago. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though. I loved your father."
I pull my chair next to hers and grab her hand. “I know.” I want to say more, tell her to have faith in Dad’s love for us. Tell her he wouldn’t have left us if he had a choice. But I said everything there is to say a long time ago. I got angry at her for not believing me. I cried, shouted and cursed and now we haven’t spoken about him for years.
The room starts spinning when I realize my last hope of him coming back is now shattered. I will never see him again. I grab onto the edge of the table for support and close my eyes for a second.
When the feeling of the ground trying to swallow me fades, I look up. Mom is wringing her hands together. “Does it… does it say how he died?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and scan the lines again. “No.” I meet her eyes. “Why? Do you want to know?”
She shakes her head. “Not really.”
A tear breaks the red on her cheek and I hug her. “It’s okay to be sad, Mom. You’re not made of stone.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t sound happy. “I’m not sad, and that’s what makes me sad. Somehow I feel relieved. At least now we know where he is.” She smirks at me. “Sort of.”
“I know what you mean. You cried over him a long time ago.”
She flinches a little. “I’m sorry, Dante. I know you still miss him.”
“I do.” My eyes burn.
I pick up the letter again. “But what about this house they’re talking about? Did you know about that?”
She shakes her head. “I think your father had even more secrets than we thought.”
I grunt. “Yes, but a house?”
She takes a sip of her coffee. “You should be glad he left it to you, and not to his new family.”
“It’s officially yours until I’m twenty-one.” I hesitate before adding, “And you don’t know he has a new family, Mom. Or had.”
She ignores my comment and gestures to my almost full plate. “Eat your breakfast. You’ll need the energy to explore your new home.”
I pull my plate towards me and start eating. I don’t have to ask her to come with me. I know she doesn’t want to come near anything that Dad left us.
When the tension between us has cleared up, I grab her hand. “You know I can’t move out. What if you have a fit again?”
“I won’t. And you’re only sixteen, we have time.” She points her fork at me. “You’ll never get an opportunity like this again, Dante. If you want to stay in Blackford, this is your chance.”
I rub my forehead and eat my bacon and eggs in silence. I don’t want to stay in Blackford. Idaho is fine, but this town is so boring. But Mom likes it here and I can’t leave her.
After my last bite I get up and kiss Mom goodbye. “Can I take Phoenix or do you need her?”
She waves her hand. “Take it, it’s your car.”
“Her, Mom. It’s a she.”
A grin spreads across her face. “Of course it is, honey. You take your lady car to your new house. I’ll be fine.”
For the first time in years, I actually believe her.
I wave, pick up my keys and the address of my inheritance and walk into a beautiful summer day.
CHAPTER 3
I thought I’d explored every corner of Blackford when I was young, but now I find myself in a dark part of the southern forest I have never seen before. I didn’t even know there were houses here.
I follow the directions in the letter. A bumpy dirt road spirals up the mountain, hidden from view by the familiar dark green of large pine trees. A long, partly overgrown entrance leads up to a dilapidated three-story villa that was once white. A few feet away, a faded, brown sign dangles from a split pole. I slow down and cock my head. Darkwood Manor. Sounds like a lovely place.
I park Phoenix in front of the house and step out. The mansion looks as if it will collapse at the slightest touch. Withered ivy covers the side of the house and the front door awning hangs askew. Shutters conceal the two lower windows, while a black void looms behind the three upstairs. It’s hard to see the two attic windows because of the rain gutter that’s overgrown with unrecognizable brown weeds. A musty, rotting scent hits my nostrils.
All is silent around me, as if nothing dares to come near. Usually the forests surrounding Blackford are full of life. There’s always a squirrel sniffing around, birds chirping and the rustling of the undergrowth as a marten or pika searches for its next meal. But not here. Silence shrouds me like a void.
“Gee, what a great surprise, Dad,” I say, trying to flush out my nerves. “Thank you so much for this wonderful ghost house.”
There are shutters at every window, so I can’t look in. Taking the three steps to the double front door, I suddenly realize I don’t have a key. If I knew who sent me the proof of ownership, I could ask them for it. I could ask them a lot more, too. But I don’t know, so I search for a hole in the awning where a key might be hidden. There is none. Gently, I push the right door. It creaks more than I expected as it opens and reveals a dark hallway. I try not to shiver, but fail miserably. For the first time in my life, I understand why every ghost story mentions the feeling of someone watching you. I lose every desire to explore the house. Maybe I should just sell it. There has always been a shortage of houses in this town, and for some mysterious reason, the board rarely gives out building permits. That’s why most people move away from Blackford when they leave high school. Of course, I can’t leave Mom, so I am forced to stay at home. Or I have been, until now. If I can renovate this old house, I’ll have my own place. If what Mom said is true, if she really is better, I won’t have to stay with her all day, stopping her from destroying our home. I can fix this house up bit by bit. It would be a great way to spend my summer, since all of my friends are going on vacation.
My thoughts come to a sudden halt. Something seems to move on the stairs in the hallway and I step back over the threshold in alarm. But when I squint, there’s nothing there. Only darkness and a foul smell. I let out my breath, but jump two feet in the air when a loud beeping noise comes from my pocket.
I take out my phone and answer it. “Charlie!”
“Hey man, are we still on for karaoke and movies tonight?”
“Oh yeah, I guess so.” I forgot all about the pre-vacation party I have planned for my friends.
“Dude, you sound like you’re in outer space. What’s going on? Is it your mother again?”
“No, she’s actually doing well. But I got a letter today, with official papers saying I inherited a house. I’m standing in front of it now.”
“You inherited a house? In Blackford? From who?”
“From my father, apparently. He died.”
Charlie mumbles his condolences, but I interrupt him. “Never mind that, I don’t want to talk about it.” I‘m still having a hard time believing he’s really gone. Saying it out loud makes it too real. “I don’t know what to make of this house yet. It’s like a haunted house. I mean, it even has a name: Darkwood Manor. It’s really creepy.” At that exact moment, the door slams shut, as if the house wants to confirm my feelings. I jump back farther, trip over the steps and bump into Phoenix.
“Are you okay?” Charlie asks.
“I don’t know, Charlie. It’s all very weird. I’ve never seen it before, which is strange in itself.”
“You just forgot. It’s been years since we last explored. And it’s probably not as bad as it looks. Come on, man, you’ve got a house! In Blackford! You’re set for life and you don’t have to leave your mom. Come pick me up and we’ll give it a clean-down. We can get the others. They’ll be done packing by now. We can help you paint and stuff before we go on vacation. It’ll be fun.”
I’m thankful for his enthusiasm, but I’m not so sure yet that this house is a blessing. It certainly doesn’t fe
el like it.
“Dante? Hello?”
His cheery voice pulls me back from my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still cowering in the doorway.” He chuckles.
I snort. “Of course not.” Although I don’t feel like going in by myself, my pride won’t let me admit it. I could make an awesome picture of this mansion, but I’d rather limit my drawing to the outside.
“Well, are you coming or do I have to wait till Halloween to see this house?”
“Let me check it out first. We’ll talk about it tonight.”
“No problem.”
We hang up and I lift my gaze towards the dark windows again. It takes some courage to walk back to the front door and push it open again. I peer into the darkness, scanning the stairway for movement. There's nothing there. After all, ghosts don’t exist. I hope.
The air in the hallway is musty. I try the light switch. It doesn't work. I turn back, walk to the windows at the front and open the shutters. Daylight shines on what looks like an office with a small library. "Much better. Much less creepy, too."
I decide to walk around the house first, to let in more light.
A gasp escapes me when I get to the side. There is an annex that spans all three stories. Behind that there’s another part of the house as large as the front. This house is enormous! Suddenly I can see all sorts of possibilities. I could live in the front and rent out the back of the mansion. I could even let Mom live on the top floor, if I can convince her to give it a chance. That alone is probably bigger than our entire house.
I feel a bit more at ease when I walk in again. Now I notice all the beautiful details, like the ornamental frames on the ceiling, the hand-carved banister, and the arch leading to what is probably the kitchen. After a quick look into the office on my right, I walk straight ahead. The kitchen is huge. It has two doors leading to the hallway and at the back, there's the door to the back garden. A large table, suitable for twelve people, stands in the middle of the room. After opening some of the cupboards and finding only tableware, I find another door leading to some sort of pantry. I walk back into the hallway and turn left, walking into the room opposite the kitchen. Now I'm standing in the annex, which is a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Sunlight is streaming in through eight large windows. A grin spreads across my face. I can already see myself sitting here on a comfortable couch, drinking a Monster and watching television.
"I can't believe Dad owned such an enormous mansion and didn't tell us," I mumble to myself.
"Well, Dad was an asshole," a voice inside my head answers.
"No he wasn’t," I say out loud.
Then I freeze. That voice in my head… That didn't sound like me at all.
Something rustles behind me and I turn around. I'm still alone.
I sigh. "Okay, let's see what else this house has to offer."
I walk back towards the stairs as calmly as I can manage. It takes all my determination to keep myself from looking over my shoulder. Upstairs I find myself in a large hallway with the stairs to the third floor in the middle. All around the stairs there are cabinets. Enough space in there to store all my drawing equipment.
There are seven rooms, not counting the bathroom on my left. I peek through the half open door. It’s rather small for such a big mansion. Barely one hundred and fifty square feet. Big enough for Mom and me though, and there’s not much to break in such a small room.
I walk to the other side of the hallway. The annex on this floor has two doors and a four-poster bed between them, which makes me think of the medieval movies Dad and I used to watch together. I can almost see a beautiful princess turning back the covers to let me in.
The curtains of the bed are drawn back and the mattress looks new and very inviting. I decide to explore the other rooms on this level, but soon find out that all the doors are locked. Dust creeps into my nose when I get on my knees and try to see something through the crack under one of the doors. When I look into the annex and bathroom again, I realize they must have been cleaned recently. Does this mean that Dad was here not long ago? Did he know he was dying? Maybe he wanted to say goodbye. But why didn't he? Did he watch us struggle through life and decide we still weren't worth the trouble?
I shake my head involuntarily. Where did that thought come from? Maybe Mom’s dejected view of the situation has had more effect on me than I thought.
The jumble in my mind is giving me a headache. I believed I had left all these questions behind me, but now all my doubts and insecurities are coming back.
It’s as if someone turns down the light outside. I feel tired and let myself fall backwards onto the bed. I close my eyes. This is great, I keep telling myself. I can have my own place, and I'll still be close to Mom. I can build in a second kitchen on the top floor so I can rent it out.
Something tickles my arm and I brush it away gently. It lands on my cheek and I shake my head.
"Your skin is so soft," a honeyed voice whispers in my ear.
I shoot up with a cry of alarm and stumble out of the bed. My foot catches on the curtain and I hit the ground with a heavy thud. The voice giggles behind me. I get to my feet, panting and glance around.
A girl is lying on her side on the bed, right next to the spot where I was a second ago. She is probably a few years older than me and has dark hair that turns into blonde towards the tips that hit her shoulders. She’s dressed in flared black jeans and a black leather jacket that falls open to reveal a short black top with a lace border that barely covers her cleavage. Her piercing blue eyes stare straight into mine and she smiles sweetly. She lifts a hand and waves at me, bending only her fingers. She looks rather friendly and immensely attractive, but the fact that I can see the bed through her body scares the crap out of me.
I’m through the door and back on the ground floor in a heartbeat. A gust of wind follows me, giggling softly. I yell and trip over my own feet. I land ungracefully on the doorstep and rub my cheek, trying to get the tingling feeling off. Before I can get up, another voice interrupts my panting. “Quit playing around, Vicky. You’re scaring the boy.”
Outside, the wind picks up. Rain comes down in thick drops.
A soft whimper escapes my lips. Trembling all over, I look up. There’s no one there.
“I’m going crazy,” I mumble. “I’m imagining things, just like Mom.”
I steady my breathing and grab the door frame for support. The storm outside sends curtains of rain through the front door, soaking me. I don’t mind. The cold water clears my head.
I shake off the feeling of unease and pull myself to my feet. The storm seems to hold its breath while I look around. Then I sigh. “What the hell am I doing? There’s no such thing as ghosts.” I take a deep breath and climb the stairs again. “This is my house now and I’m not letting it drive me crazy.”
“Good for you.”
A man steps out of the bedroom I just left. He looks about sixty years old, with gray hair down to his shoulders and sideburns connecting to his beard and mustache. He nods at me. The serious look on his face matches his dark suit. “Welcome, Dante.”
Great, the transparent man knows my name. Can this get any better?
I nod back. The best way to fight these kinds of hallucinations is to tell yourself they aren’t real, and order them to go away, so I say, “Yeah, thanks. Can you please get out of my head?”
A new voice pops up on my left. “We’re not in your head.” It sounds low and mysterious and belongs to an African woman with high cheekbones and a golden headpiece resting above her eyes. It goes all around her black curls, lighting up her beautiful soft skin. She’s wearing a black dress with golden flowers on it, and a golden cape. She looks like a goddess. A dead goddess. You are not here. There is no one here but me.
The girl from the bed steps through the wall and gives me a piercing look. “He doesn’t believe in ghosts. He’s trying to think us away. How cute
.”
“He won’t be the first to discover there’s more in life than just humans and animals. Much more,” the older man says stiffly.
The blue-eyed girl cocks her head. “Maybe we should just scare him away and be done with it.”
Someone snorts, right next to me. I jump and suppress a scream.
Another transparent guy is circling me, as if he wants to start a fight. “If we could, we would have done so a long time ago, Vicky.” He stops right in front of me and brings his head closer to mine. I try not to move. “But unfortunately, we’re bound to him.”
A boy joins the club. His hair is a deep white, just like his translucent skin. He’s wearing dark trousers and a light green, short-sleeved shirt. He can’t be much older than fourteen. “Unless…” He walks around me and taps me on the shoulder. It feels more real than I’d like to admit. I try not to shiver, but can’t help myself. “…you want to free us.”
“Sure,” I say without hesitation. ‘You’re free. No problem. You’re not real, so please go bother somebody else.” My voice is not as steady as I had hoped, and all the ghosts smile knowingly.
The man in front of me gives me a little push. “We should get rid of him, before we find out he’s just like his father.”
The gray-haired man sighs. “Don’t be so hard on John. Everyone makes mistakes. He tried to make things right.”
While I regain my balance, I try to sneak back towards the stairs. The two women and the old man don’t look so bad, but the fighter scares me. What if he pushes me down the stairs or through a window? Can ghosts even do that, assuming they are real? If they can, he’s certainly the one to do it. He looks like a tough guy. Tattoos cover his arms all the way up to the rolled up sleeves of his burgundy buttoned up shirt. There are pictures in his neck too and he has a dark beard, mustache and sideburns. There’s a murderous glint in his brown eyes, shaded by a black bowler hat.
Then the last words hit me. “Wait… did you say you knew my father?”
The boy with the white hair throws his head backward and laughs. “Well, of course we did. We were his Shield. And now we are yours.” He bows mockingly, his hand held against his stomach.
Cards of Death Box Set Page 2
