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Vessenden Abbey loomed out of the fog, a ghostly apparition of Gothic architecture with arched windows and the occasional spire poking from the mist. From what I’d read, the original monastery had burned down centuries ago, but when the place was rebuilt by the Vessenden family, the remains had been incorporated into the building. Hence the name Vessenden Abbey.
Rumor had it the place was inhabited by a multitude of ghosts. I just hoped none of them bothered me while we were here.
I passed the dilapidated gatehouse, pulled around the circular drive, and parked close to the front door. Maddie—who’d finally gotten over her cold—let out a sigh of relief from the backseat. She hated driving almost as much as my aunt did.
Hale Davis, my paramour for lack of a better term, chuckled beside me. “Don’t get too excited, Maddie. Look where she’s dragged us.”
“If I get dragged to the portals of Hell, I’m haunting you forever, my lady,” Maddie said tartly.
“Fair enough,” I said.
We all climbed from the vehicle in time to see Aunt Butty’s Bentley sweeping up the drive, Simon, her chauffeur, behind the wheel, and next to him Mr. Singh, her Sikh butler with Flora her maid crammed between them. Behind the Bentley came my best friend, Chaz Raynott, with Lola in his roadster. No doubt she’d spent the trip trying to work her charms on him to no avail. Lola wasn’t his type. In fact, there wasn’t a woman on Earth who was his type. But of course that was a thing we kept close to the vest, so to speak, which is why he often squired me about when Hale was busy with his band.
Hale joined me as I stared up at the gloomy monstrosity. Numerous windows stared like blank eyes out onto a grim landscape of barren trees. Leaden skies promised rain soon, and cold wind whipped around the corners of the building, howling like tortured souls of the damned. I shivered and told myself not to let my imagination run wild.
Hale wrapped his arm around him, his eyes twinkling. He knew exactly what I was thinking. “It’s just an old house, my love. Don’t let it get ya down.”
I reached up to press a kiss to his freshly shaven jaw. His dark skin was smooth beneath my lips, and he turned his head to give me a proper kiss.
Hale was an American jazz musician, and we’d met several months ago over a dead body. More or less.
“Well, ain’t this a marvel,” Lola said, staring up at the manor house as Aunt Butty joined us. “There must be a million ghosts in there.”
“One on the grounds and at least three inside,” Aunt Butty assured her. Today my aunt wore a turban of purple and gold silk with a cluster of wax grapes artfully spilling from it. Probably she thought it would be fitting for the occasion.
She marched straight up to the door, skeleton key in hand. She’d been the one to let the place for the party, so I supposed it was only fitting she go first. Just in case the ghosts got irritable.
While Mr. Singh, Simon, Maddie, and Flora brought in the luggage, we inspected the digs. On the ground floor was a large dining room to the right and the library to the left. Beyond the entrance hall was the sitting room, a billiards room, and a morning room, next to the kitchen and butler’s pantry.
Someone had aired out a few of the bedrooms and living areas so they’d be habitable, but most of the furniture was still draped in spooky white dustcovers and the foyer, at Aunt Butty’s instruction, had been left festooned with cobwebs and dust. It was, in a word, atmospheric.
“The perfect setting for a Halloween soiree, don’t you agree?” Aunt Butty said, not waiting for an answer. She threw open the doors to the sitting room, which was stuffed to the gills with heavy, dark furniture. “Marvelous. What do you think, Lola?”
“This place gives me the heebie jeebies.” Lola shivered.
Aunt Butty grinned. “Perfect.”
––––––––
I WASN’T SURE WHAT woke me, but I was suddenly sitting bolt upright in bed, blinking in the darkness. My head felt muzzy and my tongue thick and pasty. Aunt Butty had been trying various “Halloween inspired” cocktails on us in an attempt to find the right drink for the party. We’d all gone to bed more than a little tipsy.
Not hearing anything but the wind howling around the manor and Hale snoring softly beside me, I sank back down onto my pillow. Hale cuddled closer, murmuring something in his sleep. I must have been dreaming.
A blood curdling scream echoed down the hall.
This time we both sat bolt upright. Hale snapped on the light. His dark eyes were alert.
“What was that?” I demanded.
“Dunno.” He was already out of bed, shrugging into his robe. “Definitely a woman.”
I suddenly feared my aunt or Maddie was in trouble. Rolling out of bed, I grabbed my own robe and followed him out the door.
We found Lola at the top of the stairs, staring down like she’d seen a ghost. Her face, already pale, was dead white, and her unpainted mouth made a wide “oh.”
“What is it, Lola?” I demanded. “What’s wrong?”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no sound came out.
“What the devil?” Chaz shouted from down the hall.
“Is someone dead?” Aunt Butty arrived with curlers in her hair and her bathrobe askew.
Meanwhile there was thumping somewhere at the back of the house. A door was flung open and Mr. Singh arrived, Maddie and Flora hot on his heels. The only one that wasn’t there was Simon who was staying in the old chauffeur’s quarters in the garage and was probably blissfully asleep.
Everyone yammered at once... “What happened?” “I heard a scream!” “Is everything alright?” Did someone break-in?” “I need my beauty sleep, you know.”
That last one was from Chaz.
Hale held up his hands and managed to shush everyone. “Now, Lola,” he said, taking her gently by the upper arms, “tell us what happened? Why did you scream?”
Lola pointed down the stairs toward the foyer. “Sh-she was th-there. I-I s-saw her.” Her teeth chattered, though I didn’t think it was from the cold, despite her rather gauzy peignoir.
“Who was there?” I demanded. I’d forgotten to put on slippers and my feet were near frozen.
She blinked. “I-I dunno.” Her voice had taken on the full gun-moll inflections she usually tried hard to hide. She pointed left to right. “She walked from there to there, dressed like she was right outta Gone with The Wind or somethin’. Almost had a heart attack.”
“Who was it?” Mr. Singh demanded. He took his job of protecting my aunt very seriously.
“I dunno,” Lola wailed.
A stranger in the house wandering around in the middle of the night? That was dashed odd, if you asked me. “What was she doing?”
“Carrying a vase of flowers.”
“In the middle of the night?” Aunt Butty said.
“Never mind the middle of the night,” Hale said. “What was she doing here at all? There’s not supposed to be anyone here but us, right?”
“Correct,” I said. “And whoever she is, she isn’t one of us.”
“That’s for sure.” Lola said, finally coming around. “I could see right through her.”
We all stared at her.
Finally, I asked, “What do you mean, you could see through her?”
“Well, duh, she was a ghost.”