Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“This really is isolated,” I say to Hunter, who’s lying on the backseat. Like Thorne Hill, Paradise Valley has a lot of farmland. There are cornfields on either side of the street, freshly plowed and ready to be planted as soon as the ground is dry enough. It’s a landscape I’m used to since my house is on the outskirts of town with few houses on my street.
The neatly plowed fields give way to an overgrown weed-filled yard lined with maple trees. At one point this was a grand estate, and it’s sad to think how it was left to rot. I slow, GPS telling me I’ve arrived at my destination, and turn onto a once-gravel driveway that’s mostly just mud and weeds now. I drive between two dilapidated brick pillars that used to hold a gate.
The gate itself is rusted on the ground, bent like a car had smashed into it years ago. There are several apple trees along the length of the driveway. A few still have rotten apples hanging from the branches. I’m already getting an eerie feeling from this place.
The long driveway continues down to the house, circling around a circle of crumbling stone that might have been a fountain.
“This place would have been impressive back in the day,” I say out loud, slowing to a stop and parking behind Keith’s car. I kill the engine, unbuckle, grab my phone, and get out of the car, leaving the door open for Hunter.
“Hey, girl!” he calls, getting out once he sees me. “On thank god you brought him.” Keith crouches down, waiting to greet Hunter as if he’s a normal dog. Acting the part even though Keith knows the truth, Hunter runs over, tail wagging, and demands to be petted.
“Figured we could use the help,” I reply and look at the house again. “This place is huge!”
“Yeah, it’s a beast, that’s for sure. I did a little digging into the history if you wanna—”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t tell me yet. Let me see what I’m picking up.”
Keith smiles. “I’m excited and slightly terrified to find out what’s actually going on inside the house.” He shudders. “It creeps me the fuck out.”
“It has a…a…presence.” I turn back to the house, running my eyes over it. It’s a colonial-revival style house, which was popular at the time, two stories tall with a large attic that looks like it must have been finished and converted into livable space since there are curtains on the windows. The white siding is covered in moss and mold, and all the first story windows are boarded up.
“Are you getting anything?” Keith stands up and Hunter comes back to me, standing loyally by my side.
“Yeah,” I say. “There are definitely spirits here.” I close my eyes and feel like I’m being watched. “Two girls,” I go on, hearing their voices but not able to discern anything they’re saying. “And something…darker.” As soon as I say it out loud, that negative energy withdraws, slinking into the shadows. “And it’s intelligent.” Closing my eyes, make sure my mental shields are all the way down. I used to work hard on a daily basis to hold them up, not wanting to accidentally talk to a ghost thinking it’s a real person, as I’ve done before. In public.
But now I don’t need to hide that side of me from Ethan, and whatever protection spells Aunt Estelle cast on the house keeps spirits at bay.
“Whoa,” I whisper, getting hit with another wave of emotion. “Did you find out who built the house?” I ask Keith, opening my eyes and taking a few steps toward the porch.
“Yeah. I did.”
“This is what I’m picking up…kind of.” I go onto the porch, recalling memories that aren’t my own. “So, the people in the area were still struggling with the aftermath of the Great Depression in the 40s. And there was some sort of issue with that.”
“You’re good.” Keith’s brows go up. “Want me to tell you?”
I nod. “Minimal details, though.”
“A rich guy from the east coast bought a bunch of farmland for cheap with the promise he’d let the farmers keep living on it and using it, but then charged them rent that was like double what was reasonable. And according to one article I read, it seemed like a handful of people in PV back then sold their land for the cash but had some sort of verbal agreement they’d be able to buy it back once they could. The whole thing is shady if you ask me.”
“That is, and I can see how the resentment built from there.”
“Oh, totally.”
“I’m not sensing anything dangerous,” I tell him, assuming he stayed in the car because he was too creeped out to go in alone. “Want to head in?”
Keith winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “I forgot to get the key from my aunt. She’s going to swing by and drop it off.” He checks the time on his phone. “Should be soon.”