Addison wound the car up a steep, cobblestone road, passing an open gate before she arrived at the Victorian, gothic-style manor. The manor was nothing like it had been in its youth. It was in a state of decline and disrepair. Pieces of the exterior were faded and chipped off, exposing such an overabundance of neglect, Addison wondered if the manor had been abandoned.
She parked the car and stepped outside.
It was quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Too quiet, almost.
There was no rustling of trees, no birds chirping, no animals sounding off in the distance. Addison surveyed her surroundings, taking it all in. The diabolical sound of a man’s voice kicked up like a cyclone spinning around her, whispering words inside her ears.
Get out ... leave this place ... you shouldn’t be here.”
She spun around, searching for someone—anyone.
No one was there.
She was alone.
She headed toward the front door, stopping when the voice started again.
“Hear what I say. You’re not wanted here ... WITCH.”
Witch?
It was a label she hadn’t been called before.
“Whoever you are, I’m not leaving,” Addison said.
The voices circled around her and she pressed on, ignoring the warnings. The front door opened, and a short, elderly gentleman with a thick, gray beard and eyes too small for his large, elongated face hustled toward her, letting the door close behind him. He wore a collared shirt beneath a black sweater and dark slacks. Based on the irked expression on his face, he wasn’t happy she was there.
He stabbed a finger in her direction and said, “How did you get here?”
Not expecting such a gruff welcome, Addison wasn’t sure how to respond. “I ... umm ... drove.”
“Let’s try again. I’m asking how you managed to get through the gate. It was closed, and it was locked.”
“The gate was open.”
He frowned. “Nope, impossible.”
“Are you suggesting I’m lying?”
“I am. I don’t know you. I have no reason to believe you’re telling the truth.”
“Drive down and see for yourself.”
He folded his arms and huffed a sigh of irritation. “Even if the gate was open, as you allege, there are still signs posted there.”
Addison shrugged. “What signs? I didn’t see any.”
He rolled his eyes. “The ones stating you’re entering private property. They say ‘no trespassing’ in capital letters.”
The gate had been open when she came through, and as for the signs, she hadn’t noticed any. Was it possible she’d missed them?
“I’m not sure what to say,” she said. “I saw no signs.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“I was preoccupied. It’s a beautiful drive.”
“The point is, you don’t have permission to be here.”
“Is this how you welcome all your guests?”
He glared at her like she was joking. “Guests are invited. You were not.”
“I’m here to see Lawrence and Cecilia Belle. Do they live here?”
He shook his head. “Not possible.”
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t. Why do you need to see them, anyway?”
“Are you Lawrence?”
He laughed. “I should say not.”
“Then this isn’t your place, and me being here isn’t your decision to make. It’s theirs.”
“What I say goes around here.”
“And yet, when I looked into the current owners of the manor, Lawrence and Cecilia are still listed. If you’re not Lawrence, you have no right to send me away. If they don’t want me here, they can tell me themselves, and I’ll leave.”
She brushed past him and fisted a hand, preparing to knock on the front door.
The man grabbed her arm and jerked her back. “It’s time for you to go.”
Addison shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me!”
He poked at her shoulder with his finger, “Or what? What are you going to do?”
“Did you live here when Sara was alive? Did you know her?”
He stepped back, surprised, like her name hadn’t been spoken in so long, it had almost become unfamiliar to him.
“Sara is ... she was ... none of your business, and you need to leave. Now.”
“She was killed by a hit-and-run driver, right? And the person responsible was never found.”
“If you’ve come here to stir up the past, you won’t get anywhere.”
It had been over forty years since Sara’s death, but the pain the man exhibited on his face was evident. He had known her.
“You’re Lawrence,” Addison said. “You were Sara’s father, weren’t you?”
“I ... no. I wasn’t. I’m not who you think I am.”
“You knew her, though. I can tell.”
The front door creaked open, and a woman stepped outside. She was barefoot, dressed in a white nightgown, and had long, straight, white hair. Her face was slender and pale and looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in ages.
She narrowed her kind, melancholy eyes at Addison and said, “Hello there. What’s your name?”
“I’m Addison. Are you Cecilia Belle?”
The woman nodded.
The man glared at Cecilia. “Say nothing, CeeCee.”
“Why not? It’s been ages since we’ve had a visitor. Can’t we invite her inside? She looks cold. It’s cold out here. Are you cold, Addison?”
“She’s not a visitor,” the man said, “and she’s not coming inside.”
“Why have you come?” Cecilia asked.
“I wanted to ask you about—”
“Nothing,” the man interjected. “She was out for a drive and stumbled on our place, and she was just leaving before you came outside.”
“That’s not true,” Addison said.
Cecilia looked confused. “Well, which is it?”
Addison glared at the man. “Why not let her decide for herself? If she wants to talk to me, what’s the problem?”
“CeeCee, go back inside the house,” the man said.
“I ... no. I think I’d like to stay here and talk to our new friend.”
“Go back into the house,” he said. “Right now.”
Cecilia lowered her head and frowned like a child forced to do her parent’s bidding.
“Wait,” Addison said. “I really need to talk to you, Mrs. Belle.”
Cecilia glanced back. “Oh, that’s nice. You seem nice. I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Maybe another day.”
Cecilia disappeared inside the manor, and the man cracked a slight grin.
She’d done what he asked.
He’d gotten his way.
“You have ten seconds to get off this property or I’m calling the police,” he said.
He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, waved it around for effect, and began counting down.
Addison backed toward the car and opened the door, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be a second, smaller house attached to the main one. Through a window on the side, Addison thought she saw a shadow at first. Then the shadow moved. A woman with her hands pressed against the window stared down at Addison, her face forlorn and tired, eyes pleading for Addison to stay. She had long, blonde hair and was dressed in similar attire to what Cecilia had been wearing.
The man counted down to five, looked at Addison, and then followed her line of sight. “What in heaven’s name are you looking at?”
“The back part of the manor.”
He shrugged. “What about it?”
“Who is the woman?”
He screwed up his face, looking at Addison like she was nuts, and then stared back at the house again. “What woman? What are you talking about?”
Addison pointed. “She’s in the window. Can’t you see her?”
The man groaned. “It’s not a woman. It’s curtains.”
“A white curtain with hair? I don’t think so.”
“Stop playing games. Stop stalling. It won’t work. There’s no one there. No one has lived in that part of the house for decades.”
“Why not?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not your business.”
It may not have been, but there was worry in his eyes, stories he’d refused to tell. She wished she could plug him into an outlet and play his life back on a giant screen. For now, she’d have to wait. She needed to find a different way to get inside the manor walls—a way that didn’t involve him.
Addison threw her hands in the air. “All right, fine. I’ll leave.”
“I’ll head down after you and secure the gate with a new lock, just in case you decide to try something like this again.”
“If you think locking me out will keep me from learning your secrets, you’re wrong.”
“My secrets?” he said. “Why would you say such a thing? What is it you think you know?”
Addison opened the car door, looked back, and said, “There’s something troublesome about Sara’s death. There’s more to the accident than what anyone knows. There’s more to this manor, too, and whether you let me in or not, I intend to find out.”