《Whispers in the Dark》


 Chapter 1

    Victoria ¡°Vic¡± Gray walked up the stone stairs of the enormous Charles House looming in front of her to the ornate wooden door. She pushed it open, stepped inside and the house woke up. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder she walked into the large reception hall and through to the great hall. The tiled floor stretched out before her, and the ceiling hung far overhead. Several large chandeliers hung from the ceiling casting light into every corner. Sad, old wallpaper and antique furniture finished off the room.


    Vic stood there in her wind-blown brunette hair, bundled up against the chill, autumn air, and watched a woman with black tresses and a flowing, white dress as she chased after two young boys. An older woman with gray hair came trailing behind. They round up the boys and the younger woman sends them off with the older woman. She came over to Vic.


    ¡°Hi, you must be Victoria.¡± She extended her hand for a shake. ¡°I¡¯m Megan, Michael¡¯s wife. I¡¯m the designer.¡±


    Victoria shook her hand, ¡°It¡¯s just Vic. This is quite the house. I can¡¯t wait to help you restore it.¡±


    ¡°It sure is. We¡¯re happy to have you. Why don¡¯t I show you to your room first and then I¡¯ll introduce you to Michael and we¡¯ll tell you about the project.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good, my bag is a little heavy.¡± Vic readjusted the strap on her shoulder.


    Megan led her from the reception hall into a short hallway, with a thick, faded carpet runner that led to a grand staircase that rose to a wide landing with a giant, stained glass window. The landing split into two staircases on either side of the window and continued up and turned again to the front of the house to the second floor. The stairs creaked in places as the two women took the right staircase up to a hallway with worn, peeling wallpaper, crumbling plaster, and a threadbare carpet runner. There were some ornate wall sconces, but many were missing and replaced at some point with ugly, modern alternatives. A few places had wires that stuck out of the wall. The hall was dark, gloomy and had an air of uneasiness about it.


    A short walk down the hall brought the two women to a nondescript door. Megan pushed through it into a large bedroom. Along the right wall stood a large 4-poster bed with modern bed linens and blankets. A brick fireplace stood on the outer wall opposite with two windows on either side. Each contained the original wavy glass. A large, round rug covered the worn, wooden floor. A small writing desk sat against the wall opposite the bed next to a smaller door. Old paintings hung from the walls covered in faded wallpaper. A modern lamp stood on a side table, and another contained an old-fashioned oil lamp.


    ¡°Here is your home for the duration of the project. It¡¯s one of the better rooms. There¡¯s a bathroom through that door. It¡¯s hideous. Somebody retrofitted the smaller room sometime in the 50s.¡± Megan said.


    Vic walked over to the bed and set her bag down. ¡°This is great! I¡¯m sure the bathroom will suffice until it¡¯s renovated.¡± She walked to one of the windows and looked out. Dead leaves swirled about the street, pushed by the wind. Small houses dotted the other side of the street; the other mansions were torn down long ago. She turned back to Megan.


    ¡°After you get settled, meet me in the dining hall and I¡¯ll introduce you to Michael and our project.¡± Megan left and closed the door behind her.


    Vic walked over to the bathroom door and opened it. The room was small, containing only a standing shower, a small sink, and a toilet. The whole bathroom was tiled in the 50s pink tile. It was garish and didn¡¯t belong in a stately Victorian home. She closed the door. Back in the bedroom she sat on the bed and opened her bag. There was a knock on the door. Megan must have forgotten to tell her something. She called ¡°Come in.¡± But nobody entered. She got up and crossed to the door and opened it to an empty hallway. A faint hint of roses hung in the air. Huh, She must be hearing things. It was probably a creak that sounded like a knock. She closed the door and went back to her bag. She pulled out a photo of her grandmother and great-grandmother and set it on the bedside table. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a photo of her and her mother when she was a baby. She placed it next to the other photo. She pulled out her clothing and put it away in the wardrobe. She could do the rest later.


    Outside her door, she got a good look at the hallway stretching through the middle of the house. It was dark and claustrophobic. The staircase was grand, even worn as it was. Everything was worn. This house had seen better days. Those days were long gone. Now it was their job to restore it to its once stately glory. She followed the stairs down to the short hall and through that down another hall. This one was once grand, now it had the same characteristics as other parts of the house that she had seen. She found the dining room. Floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the opposite wall. A long mahogany table stretched out down the room, wooden chairs tucked under the table except for two at the end where a man who looked to be in his thirties with dark hair sat, Megan talked to him. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and several tall urns stood about the room filled with faded fake flowers.


    The man stood when she entered and walked over to her, extending his hand. ¡°Vic, It¡¯s so good to finally have you here. I¡¯m Michael and you¡¯ve met my lovely wife Megan. Have you settled in yet?¡± She shook his hand.


    ¡°Almost, I put some of my things away, but I wanted to jump right in.¡±


    ¡°Well, come sit down and tell us about yourself. We already know a little, but we want to get to know you better.¡± He pulled a chair out for her on the opposite side of the table and she sat in it. He sat in the seat he¡¯d been sitting in before.


    ¡°Would you like any coffee or tea?¡± Megan asked her.


    ¡°Tea would be nice. I don¡¯t like coffee. I never have. I just can¡¯t get over the bitter flavor, no matter how much cream and sugar goes in it. The bitter tea is different. That¡¯s a flavor I love. Not Darjeeling, as that is too bitter for me, but a good English Breakfast does it for me.¡±


    Megan walked over to a sideboard that held an electric kettle and began making tea.


    ¡°So, what do you want to know?¡± She looked at Michael.


    ¡°Tell us what you like about architecture and history to start, what your plans for the future are, and how this project fits in with your plans.¡± He said.


    ¡°Oh, so the easy stuff you mean.¡± She laughed. ¡°Well, I¡¯m in the final year of my doctorate in architectural history. I¡¯ve always been fascinated with history and old architecture. It¡¯s not easy to find work as a historian, but as an architectural historian, there are plenty of old buildings waiting to be restored.


    Megan brought her a mug of tea and sat down beside her with her own cup. ¡°Are you from around here?


    ¡°Yes, I grew up right here in Detroit. My mom¡¯s family goes back several generations. Before that, my ancestors came from England and Germany, but we don¡¯t know our history on my mom¡¯s after a couple of generations back. It was apparently scandalous and so it was never talked about. That¡¯s one thing that made me curious about history. Other than that I¡¯m a 26-year-old woman who works on restoring old buildings, and just dumped a cheating boyfriend and has a complicated relationship with her mother. I like 90s rock, staying in and reading a book over a hot cup of tea, and my own company over going out. Did I leave anything out?¡±


    A large, orange tabby walked into the room and came over to her, gave her a sniff, and rubbed up against her legs. She reached down and petted it.


    ¡°That¡¯s Kitty,¡± Megan said. ¡°She came with the house.¡±


    ¡°Poor thing, did nobody want you?¡± She gave it one more pet and then straightened in her chair. ¡°What about the two of you? How did you meet and decide to renovate houses?¡±


    Michael sat back and ran his hand through his black hair. ¡°I started working construction with my dad when I was in high school and worked my way up to contractor after. At some point, I started flipping houses on the side and liked that. I¡¯d hire the guys I used to work for.¡±


    ¡°I went to design school and Michael hired me to work on one of his houses. I fell for his down-to-earth charm. Eight years ago he popped the question. Seven years ago we welcomed our first son, William, and five years ago our second son Liam. And last year we had the vision of restoring this grand house and turning it into an inn.¡± Megan''s eyes twinkled.


    ¡°This house is it. This is the first time we¡¯ve taken on a project of this magnitude. Before this, we had only done small family homes. This mansion, this house, The Charles House is a piece of Detroit history. To be able to be here and restore this great beauty, built by the great lumber baron Edward Charles himself, an early leader of Detroit. It¡¯s all a big grand, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He stood up, ¡°Here, follow me into the library.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go check on the nanny. I¡¯ll be in shortly¡± Megan stood up and walked out of the room. Vic followed Michael into the hall.


    Down a short hallway and across the reception hall they entered the library. The large room was dark despite the large windows on one wall. Tall bookshelves filled with old tomes lined two of the walls. A photograph of the house when it was first completed hung on the remaining wall next to the door. A large antique desk sat in front of the windows, two old armchairs in front of it. Old newspapers and books cluttered the desktop. Cobwebs and broken plaster hung from the ten-foot ceiling.


    Michael led her to the desk and she followed. ¡°What do you know about this house?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I know it was built sometime in the 1890s by Edward Charles. You said he was a lumber baron. There were so many lumber barons in the 1800s. That¡¯s how many early families made their fortunes. It¡¯s much easier and cheaper to build a house out of wood, not to mention faster than it is to build out of brick or field stone.¡± She looked at him and thought was handsome. He had sharp features, dark skin, and gorgeous eyes. ¡°Wasn¡¯t he on the city council? He had some sort of high standing in the city.¡±


    ¡°He was an alderman. In those days they had alderman, which functioned similarly.¡± He picked up a book off of the desk and opened it to a page that had been marked. The page had a listing for Edward Charles. ¡°He was born in Pennsylvania in 1848. His family had been in the lumber business there. They sent him to Michigan to oversee their lumber operations here in 1875. He wound up buying his own pine forests, a few iron mines, and some steamboats to haul it all to Detroit. He quickly amassed his fortune. Very civic-minded he spearheaded several initiatives for the city.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Vic picked up one of the brittle, yellowed newspapers that sat on the desk. The headline ran Philanthropist Edward Charles to hold fundraiser ball for the city¡¯s poor. Scanning the article Vic discovered that Edward Charles had taken to philanthropy shortly after acquiring his fortune and funded an orphanage, a hospital for the poor, and a local library. Which he said was ¡°A duty I have to the people of this great city. I already own several means of production, have a grand house, and a beautiful family. What more could I want than to help make this great city of Detroit the best in the nation?¡±


    ¡°He sounds too good to be true.¡± Vic put the newspaper back on the table.


    ¡°He was beloved by the people. On paper, he is a little too perfect. He had a young wife named Virginia, and two small children. He seemed the perfect husband and father. He married Virginia after his first wife died of a fever and he was left to care for their teenage son. That son died in an accident when he was 15. It¡¯s said that he fell into a deep despair despite having a wife and two other young children to care for. He built this house for his family. Historians say that he threw himself into designing and building this house. It took four years to complete this house. Once it was done he held a lavish party and invited the who¡¯s who of the time. It¡¯s rumored that Andrew Carnegie and Henry Ford both attended this soiree. He then threw himself into being a leader for the city. He hosted a social club for prominent men in the city and his wife Virginia headed several social clubs for the women. They were also interested in spiritualism, which was a popular thing amongst the wealthy of the time. They hosted many seances. Many people who attended these gatherings claimed to have spoken with loved ones who had passed on.¡± He told her.


    ¡°Ghosts aren¡¯t real,¡± Vic murmured.


    ¡°I agree. They are not.¡± Megan said, walking into the room and taking a seat. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to be talking about this.¡±


    ¡°I disagree. Whether real or not, the fact that they believed in spiritualism has historical merit.¡± Michael stated.


    ¡°I also agree on that point,¡± Vic interjected. ¡°Ghosts are not real, but looking back at a people who believed in it and claimed to actually talk to them is a fascinating look at the human psyche, which always searches for patterns and things to make sense. Death is a hard one. It¡¯s easier to believe your loved one is still hanging around after death and looking out for you. To believe if you try hard enough you can still communicate with them than it is to believe in the harsh finality of death.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know everything and we can¡¯t say that they didn¡¯t communicate with the ghosts of their dead loved ones,¡± Michael said.


    ¡°There has been no documented proof of ghosts, only anecdotes and cleverly faked videos.¡± Vic replied.


    ¡°Enough, I don¡¯t want to talk about this anymore. Why don¡¯t you give her a tour of the house and I¡¯m going to try to get some work done.¡± Megan stood and headed for the dining room.


    ¡°Would you like a tour of the house?¡± Michael asked. ¡°There are 10 main bedrooms, and about 20 if you count the servant''s rooms on the third floor. You¡¯ve seen this room and the dining room, but there is also a ballroom, drawing room, music room, a breakfast room and that¡¯s all on this floor not even counting a couple of other rooms. Let¡¯s start in the basement where all the servants worked.¡±


    Outside the library, Michael opened a door to the left that led to the basement. It was a narrow and dark staircase leading not only into the bowels of the house but up to the second and third floors. It was lit by a single bare bulb, shadows stretched into the darkness below.


    ¡°Back in the early days of this house the place would have been bustling with activity,¡± He told her as they descended single file. A cold dampness crept up from below. ¡°All the lights would have been on, and servants would have been going about their duties. The cook, maids, butler, housekeeper, groundskeeper. You name it, they all worked here.¡±


    In the darkness at the bottom of the stairs, Vic could feel an eerie dread before Michael flipped a switch and a bank of lights turned on illuminating the utilitarian hallway. It stretched in either direction. He took her to the right and through the door at the end of the hall. It opened into the kitchen. A large fireplace stood against the outer wall, and several small dirty windows high up on the wall let in only the barest hint of light. A modern stove sat amongst antique appliances, the walls and ceiling dirty with the grime of decades. Several doors led to a cold room, a room for kitchen coal, and to a pantry, which had its own staircase up to the dining room.


    ¡°It¡¯s so creepy down here.¡± Vic said, wrapping her arms around herself, ¡°and chilly.¡±


    Michael led her out of the kitchen and down the hall. ¡°The house has been vacant since the 60s. ¡°Virginia was 102 when she died. The house passed to a relative who enthusiastically tried remodeling, but ultimately gave up but chose to keep the house instead of selling it. That¡¯s where most of the hideous updates came from.¡±


    ¡°What about Edward? When did he die?¡± She followed him into a cellar.


    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting story. He was 62 when he died. Well, at least that¡¯s what the papers say. His body was never recovered.¡±


    The air in the cellar felt electric and Vic momentarily felt sick as the contents of her stomach threatened to come up. She groaned as she doubled over, hands on her knees.


    Michael placed a hand on her arm, ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Vic straightened back up and let out a breath, ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know what hit me. One minute I was fine and then the next I felt like I was going to vomit. It¡¯s gone now.¡± She looked around the brick room filled with shelves full of old junk and what looked to be the electrical panel for the house. ¡°What do you mean they never found his body?¡±


    ¡°The papers said that on December 31st, 1910 a fire broke out at a social club meeting during the Charles¡¯ annual New Year''s Eve party. The men excused themselves from the party and met in private. In the morning Virginia Charles found them and called the police.¡±


    ¡°Wait? How did the house not burn down? How did she not notice that her husband didn¡¯t come to bed?¡± Vic asked.


    ¡°Midnight meetings of the club were common and Virginia often wouldn¡¯t see her husband for days at a time. As for why the house didn¡¯t burn down, they held their meetings down here in the basement somewhere. You can see that everything down here is made from stone and brick. I think they must have been drinking a lot and then a tablecloth or curtain must have gone up in flames and caught them all on fire and in their drunkenness and panic couldn¡¯t get out of the room.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡± A cold draft chilled the room further.


    ¡°The servants found the body of one of the members in the hall. He was the only one to escape the room before he expired. Most of the servants quit after that.¡±


    ¡°You said that Edward Charles¡¯ body was missing?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Edward''s body was not among the dead. At first, they thought he was safe, but he was never seen again. Some thought that he chose to leave his wife and child to start a new life elsewhere, but there was no missing money or personal effects, and he loved his job with the city. He had sold off most of his lumber operations but held onto the iron mining. After a time they declared him dead, despite not having a body.¡±


    A cold draft, almost a breeze flowed through the room. They wondered where it had come from. There was no window in this room. It was as if somebody had opened a door and left it open. They stepped back into the hall.


    ¡°Do you know which room they met in?¡± Vic looked at the doors up and down the hall. She didn¡¯t see any doors open.


    Michael closed the door behind him as he stepped out of the cellar. ¡°I don¡¯t know. The location was never listed. When we bought the house it was disclosed that people had died here, but not where in the house.¡± He showed Vic the rest of the basement. There was a 1950s boiler in the boiler room and a modern washer and dryer that were brand new in the laundry room. The model that was there before was from the 1950s. There was the servants'' dining room and hall, plus a wine cellar, store room, another cellar, and some small miscellaneous rooms.


    They returned to the main floor and toured that. The ceilings were high, and the wallpaper faded and peeling. Some of the doors were missing, along with various lighting fixtures. The house had been through a lot over the years. They took the main staircase to the second floor. It really was a grand staircase. At the end of the west hallway, there were double doors that led to a balcony overlooking the ballroom. Around the corner at the end of the west hallway stood a short corridor that led to the rooms that had belonged to Edward and Virginia. Michael and his family had claimed those rooms for themselves. Back down the west hallway was a room they used as a playroom for the boys. The boys spent a lot of time in there with the nanny when he and Megan were working. But they also ran through most of the house to help keep their poor nanny in shape. At least that¡¯s the way that Michael phrased it. Many bedrooms, closets, and balconies finished off the second floor, including several servants¡¯ staircases. Each room was filled with antique furniture and a mixture of modern elements by way of the 1960s.


    The house was a time capsule, especially the rooms that belonged to Edward and Virginia¡¯s children in the east wing. Wooden rocking chairs adorned each of the two children¡¯s rooms. The daughter Charlotte had a large dollhouse that looked just like the house it sat in. Faded pink wallpaper adorned the walls along with a few paintings of flower gardens. The single four-poster bed was made up with a pink thread-bare quilt, moth-eaten and fraying at the edges. A few wooden toys and a doll sat on a shelf. A small closet still held decayed clothing. Vic felt sadness in this room.


    ¡°This place looks like a shrine.¡± She looked through one of the two windows that overlooked the overgrown backyard.


    ¡°It probably was. Both Charlotte and William never made it out of their teens. Both died before they were 18. Charlotte died of a fever, and William died in a freak accident when a load of logs came loose and crushed him to death. He had taken on most of his father¡¯s work by age 15.¡±


    ¡°Virginia must have been heartbroken. Her husband died tragically and then both of her children. Her whole family died. Why did she stay here after all that?¡± Vic couldn¡¯t imagine losing her whole family. Not that she had a lot of it to lose. All she had was her mother. Her father died when she was a toddler and his parents had been older when he had been born. She didn¡¯t have any extended family on his side. Her mother¡¯s mother, her grandmother had been around when she was young but died when she was in her teens. Her grandfather died when her mother was young. Her mother didn¡¯t have any siblings and so it had always been just them. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how she must have felt.¡± The darkness in the closet was so dense that it seemed almost solid. It gave her the creeps. She closed the door.


    ¡°Who knows, maybe staying helped her remember them.¡± He escorted her into the east hall, they looked in on several more rooms and then took the servant¡¯s stairs to the third floor. The same stairs they had taken to the basement not that long ago. Up here there was a window that let in some light, but not much, and another bare bulb lit the landing. These stairs creaked as they ascended single file.


    They came out in the servants¡¯ hall, which had six small bedrooms. This section of the house was as utilitarian as the basement had been. The plain wood floors were scratched up and in need of a good sanding and staining. The walls were a dirty, dingy white. Each of the servants'' rooms had a small threadbare bed and side table, with a small dresser. Most of the rooms oddly shaped from being tucked up under the gables. They went through a small door that led to the west hall. This hall looked the worst. Large sections of plaster lay on the floor, the walls showing the slats they had been adhered to. The air felt heavy and oppressive bringing anxiety to Vic''s mind. Nothing good was up here, only death and decay. She shrugged the thought off.


    Along this hall lay a few more bedrooms, and what must have been a school room, which now held all manner of junk and pieces from the house. Things like chandeliers, wall sconces, trim, doors, lamps, sofas and chairs. Pieces not wanted, or were broken and never fixed.


    ¡°I bet your wife is going to have a field day in here.¡± Vic''s eyes glittered as she looked at this room of forgotten treasure.


    ¡°She definitely will.¡± Michael closed the door and they continued down the hall. Three more bedrooms, some miscellaneous closets and they descended back down to the main floor.


    Michael and Vic met Megan in the dining room. She held up a sample of wallpaper. ¡°What do you think of this design for the reception hall? It had a solid pattern in black.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bold choice, but what about this one.¡± Vic pointed to the pattern on the opposite page that was similar but held just a touch of whimsy.


    ¡°I thought about that one at first. I think that one will go better in one of the sitting rooms or the library.¡± Megan pulled out carpet and paint samples. I thought this oriental rug, with this dark cream paint for the ceiling, would bring this look together.¡±


    ¡°Sophisticated choices,¡± Vic looked through the wallpaper samples and chose a pattern with shiny, multicolored peacocks on them. ¡°What about this for the main hall?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too busy, you don¡¯t want that for the main hall,¡± Michael interjected. Both women gave him a look that said he had no idea what he was talking about and he should butt out. ¡°Point taken.¡± He put his hands up in mock surrender. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to the designing and I will retreat to the library. I have several calls to make. The crew will be here in the morning to begin work.¡±


    ¡°Wait, let¡¯s go over our thoughts for the main hall.¡± Megan grabbed a project binder labeled, ¡°Main Hall¡± and walked over to the main hall, Michael and Vic following.


    ¡°The ceiling in here is in really good shape. There are only a few cracks that need to be patched, though the wallpaper needs to come completely down. Once that¡¯s done we¡¯ll get a good look at the condition of the plaster. We¡¯ll assess that as it¡¯s done. It¡¯s too expensive to replace plaster. If any of it is damaged we¡¯ll replace it with drywall. It¡¯s not the same, but nobody will mind too much. Replacing the plaster would take about a quarter of the budget.¡± Megan handed Vic the binder. ¡°Here are my thoughts on the design of this room.¡±


    The binder was full of design choices. Wallpaper samples, curtain styles and colors, to furniture choices. ¡°I like most of the furniture that is already in here, but those 1950s setees have to go. We need to inventory the paintings in the house, along with every single antique in the place. We¡¯ll repair what we can and buy what we can¡¯t.¡± Megan said.


    ¡°We want to finish the main floor first. We want to hold dinners, and dinner parties to paying guests to help fund the renovations. We¡¯ll be putting in a state-of-the-art kitchen and have a small restaurant on this floor for the public to come to. Later guests will be able to have full meals here as well.¡± Michael said.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite the ambitious plan,¡± Vic said.


    Megan and Vic returned to the dining room, while Michael retreated to the library. The two women went over the design choices. Megan was amazed at the other woman¡¯s knowledge of nineteenth-century aesthetics. The cat jumped up on the table and laid down right on top of their stuff. Megan tried shooing it away, but Vic picked it up and snuggled it against her. The two women continued working throughout the afternoon and into the evening. The nanny came down and said goodbye at five o¡¯clock sharp and bid them both a good evening. Megan and Vic decided to call it a night, and she decided to order delivery. When it came she retreated to her room. The long day had exhausted her mental faculties and she wanted to eat and watch reruns of an antique show on her laptop.

 Chapter 2

    It gets dark early during November in Michigan. The lights in the house were dim and the shadows long. Vic had turned on the two table lamps in her room, but it was quite dark. She opened the bathroom door and turned on the stark light inside. It helped, but only a little. Raindrops hit the window, the house creaking as a strong wind gust blew past. She sat at the writing desk, laptop open, food beside it. She ate while watching an antique show. A chill entered the air, a draft from somewhere. Old houses like these had lots of drafts. It was usually missing glazing on the windows. They were never that great to begin with and over time it dried up and flaked off. It¡¯s hard to find original windows in old houses because of it. She got up and grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapped it around herself, and sat back down. The program she watched had people who would come with antiques that were passed down in their families and historians would tell them what they had, if it was authentic, and what it was worth should they want to sell it. Some people discovered that they had a priceless artifact and others discovered that they had reproductions. Vic thought the show was like a game to her, where she got to test her skills and was excited when she was correct.


    Lightning flashed, streaking across the sky, casting shadows distorted from what was. In the flash, Vic thought she saw a face in the window, but that was ridiculous since she was on the second floor and there was no balcony outside her window. She stood, walked to the window, and looked out. Rain poured from the sky, trees shook in the wind and their dead leaves were pulled from the branches. More lighting flashed, followed by rolling thunder. She turned and faced the room. The darkened corners seemed pregnant. It was as if the darkness was pushing back against the light. Vic returned to the desk and finished her meal and TV show without any more distractions.


    She then stepped into the darkened hallway. Only one light illuminated her room in the east hallway, another was lit down the west hallway. She walked its length, her fingers trailing faded and peeling wallpaper. Strips of it were hanging down where the glue had come detached from the wall. A water-stain spread across the ceiling at the end of the hall. She turned around and walked in the other direction looking at the features of the house; the door trim, the pattern on the wallpaper, the carpet, lighting features, and how it must have looked in its heyday. She stopped at the railing overlooking the grand staircase. The stained glass window was beautiful. It depicted a scene in which a young woman in a white dress was sitting amongst flowers and reaching her hand out to touch a unicorn as white as her dress. It was surprising that it was still in good shape. In the darkness with the rain and lightning flashes it took on a more sinister tone. Instead of the woman reaching out innocently it seemed sinister instead. She couldn¡¯t hear the other people in the house, only the sound of the storm. She continued down the hall and through the double doors at the end.


    The balcony was small, but the view over the ballroom was grand. You could see the whole room and Vic imagined looking out from here during a masquerade ball. She imagined trying to find ¡°the one¡±. She thought it romantic to fall in love at a masquerade ball. All the pretty girls wearing beautiful gowns faces hidden by masks, and the men, handsome, masked, and looking for dance partners and possible future wives. The past seemed much more alive and exciting to her. In this fantasy, there were handsome men and flowers everywhere, and musicians to play live music. In reality, the room was a vast empty darkness, intermittently interrupted by flashes of light. She felt as though she were standing in a void. She turned to leave before the void looked back at her. She went back to her room, showered, answered a few emails, and read for a bit before she crawled under the covers and went to sleep.


    ~


    Vic was sitting at the kitchen table with her crayons. She wore a yellow dress with ribbons in her hair. On the paper in front of her, she had drawn a tree. At the top, she drew a picture of herself and wrote her name below it. Victoria. Beneath that, she drew her mom and dad. Under her father, she put his parents, but that¡¯s as far as it went. Under her mother, she drew her grandmother, but she didn¡¯t know her grandfather, and beneath her grandmother were two more grandmothers, grandfathers unknown.


    ¡°Mom, how come we don¡¯t have any grandpas?¡± She looked so small sitting in the chair. ¡°Did you know your grandpa? What about your dad? Did you know him?¡±


    Her mother was washing dishes. She turned from the sink, dried her hands, and walked over to stand beside her. She knelt down to Vic¡¯s level. ¡°It¡¯s something we don¡¯t like to talk about in our family.¡± She took Vic''s hands in her own. ¡°Don¡¯t ever think that you¡¯re unloved because your dad isn¡¯t here anymore. Your dad loved you more than anything in this world, but he got sick and the doctors couldn¡¯t fix him.¡±


    ¡°Did your daddy get sick and go away too?¡± Vic had been so sweet and innocent at this age.


    ¡°No, my daddy didn¡¯t get sick. He and my mom fought a lot. They fought like people who didn¡¯t like each other. After a while, it was only me and my mom.¡± She strained to hold back tears.


    ¡°Did you miss him? I miss Daddy.¡± Her little face wrinkled up, tears welling in her eyes.


    ¡°I did miss him at first, but after a while with just my mom, I didn¡¯t anymore. He was angry and yelled all the time which made me scared. I wasn¡¯t scared anymore. So it was just me and my mom, like it¡¯s just you and me. It was the same thing with my grandma and her mom. But we don¡¯t ever talk about it.¡± She let her hands go and stood up.


    ¡°Why not? Where¡¯d all the daddies go?¡± Vic¡¯s face was all red and scrunched up like a wrinkled prune.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Her mother stroked her hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know honey. I don¡¯t know, but we turned out okay.¡±


    Vic gets up from the chair and walks down the hall, Linoleum changed to carpet, the walls closed in around her, and the sunlit kitchen faded to the past. The dim hallway stretched in front of her. She walked past old, worn wallpaper that she didn¡¯t remember in her childhood home. She opened the door at the end and stepped through it. Another hallway, like before, but darker and more foreboding. Black mold riddled the walls here, so black that you couldn¡¯t see the pattern anymore. Missing plaster showed the slats like the bones of a skeleton. She saw a man in a black suit and top hat turn a corner. She thought she heard a voice whisper ¡°Follow me.¡± She hurried after the man in the hat. ¡°Wait,¡± she called. When she turned the corner she saw him enter and shut a door behind him. It was dark and eerie, but she could still see somehow. She strode to the door and opened it. Beyond was a nursery, decayed and moldy. A baby cried. The room held a wooden bassinet. There was no baby in it, but she could hear it.


    The man walked through another door. ¡°Follow me,¡± the voice said. She couldn¡¯t be sure if it was the man¡¯s voice that called to her, or somebody else. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The door led to a short corridor that was falling in upon itself. Footsteps echoed on a winding staircase that descended into darkness below. She followed. She had to catch up to the man. Who was he? Why did he want her to follow him? Or was it somebody else that wanted her to follow him?


    At the bottom of the staircase, she found herself at the end of a hall. Many doors sat along it with multiple passageways connecting. Dreary green wallpaper adorned the walls. She walked along looking for signs of the man in the top hat. Behind her, in the darkness, she could hear something large. She turned and looked, but could not see anything. She continued searching. When she reached one corridor she saw the man turning the corner into another. She ran after, trying to catch up, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn¡¯t reach him. He was always barely at the edge of his vision. Carpet soon turned to stone and the walls fell away. Statues and bushes loomed up around her and she could hear the nails of a large beast clacking on the stone tiles behind her. She looked behind her again. It sounded like it was right behind her. She imagined a large, fiend-like beast with a hungry maw, ready to tear her flesh. Fear rushed up from her stomach and threatened to overwhelm her. She ran, not following after the man any longer. After the maze of hallways the garden felt like another. Flower beds and bushes kept her on the path and she found nowhere to flee, or escape this beast. She knew that if she stopped it would be on her. She passed through a doorway and found herself in an overgrown cemetery. Dense fog clung to the ground and swirled as if it had a life of its own. The clouds barely covered a full moon. She ran between tombstones that were wide and skinny. The names were worn off long ago. A mausoleum loomed up out of the darkness and she ran for it. The Beast right on her heels. An owl hooted in the distance. She slammed into the back of the stone building and felt her way along it to the front where she tugged on the doors stuck tight. Locked. Safety ripped away from her. She felt the beast behind her, the death blow coming.


    Vic awoke with a start, she could still feel the looming presence of the beast. Her breath caught in her chest, and she breathed shallowly. Cold crept in and chilled her to the bone. It was cold, and a breeze colder still caressed her skin. It was pitch black, a vast emptiness around her. She stood barefoot on cold stone. Where was she? Did she sleepwalk? She hadn¡¯t done so since she was a teenager. Her mother found her out on the lawn multiple times. Once she was halfway down the street. The problem was so bad that her mother took to locking her in her room at night. She had been scared. She didn¡¯t know why she sleepwalked, or where she was going. They went to the doctor but he told them it was quite normal and to just make sure they kept all the doors locked at night. The condition stopped when she went away to college. She did not want it coming back. This was a nightmare.


    Terrified and barely breathing she reached out trying to find a wall. She must be in the house somewhere. Her feet ached with cold, her toes numb with it. She must be in the basement. The rest of the house had wood floors, carpet, and tile. Only the basement had a stone floor. Reaching forward, her feet scuffed along the floor until her fingers touched wood. She spread her hands along it, identifying it as a shelf. Various unknown things lay on it. She slowly shuffled along the wall trying to find a light switch, if one existed. Her heart wanted to explode from her chest in fear. The silence in her ears was deafening. She inched her way along, one excruciating step after another. She felt like she was being watched, but she knew she was alone. The supernatural did not exist. But even so, it took all she had to keep moving and not crawl up into a ball and wait for morning. And then she heard it. A scrabbling of claws on stone. Her heart leaped into her throat and she moved faster. A loud crash sent her running forward into another shelf. She felt her way against that wall and came to a door. She searched the wall around the door, looking for a light switch. Just when she thought she could bear it any longer her fingers touched upon a switch. Flipping it, the light blinded her as the bare bulb came to life. She spun around to see what was in the room with her. When she saw it, she choked out a laugh.


    Just the cat. It must have gotten shut in the room with her. Looking around she recognized it as one of the cellars. The one that held the electrical panel. The cat sat licking her paw next to a few jars that it had knocked over. ¡°Come on kitty, let¡¯s go back upstairs.¡± She opened the door and the cat followed. There had to be a window propped open somewhere, but she and Michael had not found one when they were down here earlier. They will have to search for it.


    The hallway was dark, not a single light was on. Trying to get her bearings she grabbed a block and propped the door open. The stark, white light shone into the hall. It didn¡¯t stretch very far, but It was just beyond where the light ended. She didn¡¯t believe in ghosts, but if they were she knew this house would be haunted. If she thought the basement was creepy during the day, it was ten-fold in the dark. The cat followed her as she strode down the hall. She heard nothing but her breathing. She could not hear the storm from earlier. It was gone, or she couldn¡¯t hear it from here. At the edge of the light, she hesitated and then stepped into the darkness. She misjudged the distance. Looking back, the pool of light from the cellar was smaller than she initially thought. The darkness crept in around her. She had the itch to flee. She ran to the door, to the stairwell and flipped a switch outside which cast too dim light in the hall. It wasn¡¯t enough. She pulled open the door and flipped the switch she found inside. The bare bulb lit the stairwell from up above. She ran up the stairs, the cat hot on her heels as she fled up through the house.


    Exiting into the great hall on the first floor, the patter of rain hit her ears. She ran down the hall to the grand stairs and hurried up them. They creaked as she ascended. The cat followed her back to her room, where she turned on all the lights and crawled into her bed. Kitty jumped on her bed, and let Vic stroke her fur. She kneaded the blankets with her paws, turned in three circles, and curled up.

 Chapter 3

    Bright sunshine filtered through the windows, and birds tweeted their greetings. Vic dressed quickly, having overslept. The sounds of construction filled the house as she dragged herself down the stairs. In the main hall or great hall if you will, scaffolding was being erected, and paintings and furniture were being removed. Michael directed them to place the paintings in the dining room and the furniture in one of the drawing rooms.


    ¡°There¡¯s food in the breakfast room. Did you sleep okay?¡± He directed a muscled man where to go.


    ¡°Okay enough. Just a bit tired this morning.¡± She brushed her hand through her hair.


    ¡°Weird bed? I have trouble sleeping in different beds too.¡± A dark-skinned man walked through the room holding trim and heading for the door. ¡°Jerome, put that stuff in the drawing room. It¡¯s not trash.¡± Michael walked away from Vic.


    Vic turned and walked through the construction zone and found Megan, the kids, and their nanny eating breakfast. The room was smaller than the library and held a small oval table in the center. Small at least compared to the enormous dining table in the dining room. A bright wallpaper hung on the walls with depictions of oranges being picked by workers. At least the wallpaper had been bright at one time, now faded and worn. Three floor-to-ceiling windows spilled sunlight into the room. Several sideboards stood around the room, one of which held a catered breakfast.


    Megan looked up as Vic entered. ¡°Good morning, grab a cup of tea and some food.¡± This is Martha, the boys¡¯ nanny. You saw her yesterday.¡± She helped Liam as he ate.


    Vic nodded towards the woman who looked to be in her 60th or 70th decade. ¡°Good to meet you miss. How are you settling in?¡± She took a sip of her coffee.


    Vic walked over to the sideboard and checked the electric kettle. It was still hot. Pouring hot water into a mug she dropped a teabag into it and set it on the table. ¡°Good. I love the house, but It needs a lot of work.¡±


    Vic set her mug on the table and served herself some of the food. There were scrambled eggs, bacon, and bagels. She sat on the other side of the table facing Megan and the boys.


    Liam had light brown skin, brown hair, and chestnut brown eyes, which were more striking due to his dark lashes. He was small and slender, about 5 years old. His brother William was taller, with the same features, and he looked to be a few years older than Liam.


    ¡°How do you boys like it here?¡± She looked at Liam and William.


    William stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth, ¡°It¡¯s kinda neat. We never lived anywhere this big before. It¡¯s way bigger than grandma¡¯s house.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk with food in your mouth. Chew.¡± Megan gave him the ¡°mom¡± look. ¡°How did you sleep? Did the storm keep you awake?¡± Megan took a sip of her coffee and urged Liam to eat more eggs.


    Vic began eating her food and told the two women that she had a strange dream about following Edward Charles through the house. She was sure that it was him. She said she had woken up in the cellar after having sleepwalked down there.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t sleepwalked since I was a teenager.¡± She took a sip of her steaming mug.


    ¡°Do you sleepwalk often?¡± Megan wiped egg off of Liam¡¯s face.


    ¡°You should pray,¡± Martha blurted out. ¡°Do you pray? Jesus can help you.¡±


    Vic looked at the older woman.


    ¡°Martha,¡± Megan said in a sharp tone. ¡°Let¡¯s not start drilling Vic on her faith.


    ¡°I once had an uncle who would sleepwalk and he swore up and down that nothing would stop his sleepwalking until he took his faith seriously and prayed to Jesus every night before bed. He sleepwalked for thirty years, but after he started praying regularly he never sleepwalked again.¡±


    Vic ate some more and then said, ¡°I¡¯ll have to try that. I haven¡¯t sleepwalked since I was a teenager. I used to do it weekly, sometimes a couple of times a week from when I was really small until I went away to undergrad.¡±


    ¡°I saw a pretty lady next to my bed last night. She was dressed funny.¡± Liam interjected, but the adults paid him no mind.


    ¡°How young did you start?¡± Megan wiped her mouth with a napkin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember exactly, but I think I was around five or six. I remember it started sometime after this family tree project I was working on for school. I remember being upset about not having any grandpas.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you didn¡¯t have any grandpas?¡± Martha smoothed out her blouse.


    ¡°Growing up it was only my mom, me, and my grandma. My mom¡¯s dad was abusive and they split when my mom was little. My mom¡¯s grandma and great-grandma were the same.¡± Vic picked at her food.


    Liam with his sticky fingers said, ¡°You didn¡¯t have a daddy? I have a daddy. He¡¯s the best daddy in the world. If you ask him, maybe he¡¯ll be your daddy too.¡± All the women burst out laughing. ¡°What? What¡¯d I say?¡± He grinned and laughed with them.


    Michael came in and talked to Megan who put her napkin down, and asked the nanny if she was okay to take over the kids. She looked to Vic, ¡°Come meet us in the reception hall when you''re finished.¡± She strode out of the room with Michael.


    Vic ate and chatted with the nanny, ¡°How long have you been a nanny? Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, about 30 years or so.¡± Martha finished her coffee. ¡°I like it. My kids have been grown for a long time. It¡¯s nice to help others with their littles.¡± She began cleaning away their plates and ushered the boys out of the room.


    ¡°It was nice chatting with you,¡± Vic called after them. She finished her breakfast in silence. Excitement bubbled up within her. She was here and ready to turn this house back into a beautiful manor. No more haunted house vibes from this place.


    The wallpaper on the whole first floor was coming off, except for a few rooms such as the library, dining room, and breakfast room. Those would be completed after other rooms were done. They needed somewhere to work from while the renovations were being completed. She walked through the great hall to the reception hall. A scaffold had been constructed and a man stood on it peeling wallpaper from top to bottom. Steaming it to get it loose. In other places, it pulled away cleanly. Wood trim was being sanded, and the chandelier had been removed. The workmen wore safety glasses and dust masks.


    The nanny came through with the two boys, who said goodbye to their parents as she ushered them off to school.


    ¡°I see work has started,¡± Vic walked up.


    ¡°Gotta get started early.¡± Michael grinned.


    ¡°Let''s go over the elements of our design plan.¡± Megan opened her binder for the room.


    The three of them went from room to room going over wallpaper choices, rugs, furniture, and everything in between. Talk turned to restoration techniques and replacing things that were missing or had never been here in the first place. Michael left the women to seek out the contractor to go over details. Vic and Megan detailed all the paintings on the first floor and took pictures of them for later. They did the same for sideboards, tables, chairs, settees, vases, etc. It took all morning. The women chatted as they did so. First about design and all the knowledge that went with it. It was more than putting pretty things together. There were things to consider such as fabric type, color, if it was going to be a cushion, curtain, or pillow. Not everything had to be one hundred percent period accurate, but a 1950s or 60s pattern would not do.


    At some point, a delivery person brought groceries and Megan showed him to the kitchen, while Vic returned to the dining room. She turned on the electric kettle and waited for the water to boil. Then pulled out the chair at the dining table and sat down, grabbed a guide to Victorian furniture, and opened it. Victorians liked elegant things. Things like Detailed woodwork, rich fabrics, comfortable furniture, billowing draperies, and beautiful carpets. She started identifying the various pieces of furniture in the house. The sofas for the main floor will be either reproductions or have a Victorian look. The seating needs to be comfortable and inviting. They also needed to be large enough to accommodate different body types. She closed the book and stood up.


    Vic walked through the construction zone to the library and found Michael sitting at the desk. ¡°What are you looking at?¡±


    He looked up from the thing on his desk he had been looking at. ¡°One of the occult symbols came loose from the woodwork in the den.¡±


    He picked it up and held it out for her to see. ¡°We didn¡¯t go over them yesterday, but I''m sure you¡¯ve noticed them all over the place.¡±


    The object in his hands was disc-shaped and carved from wood. It had two triangles, one pointed up, and the other pointed down and intersected each other, inside a circle.


    She walked over and sat in one of the armchairs on the opposite side of the desk. Michael stood and walked around the desk and sat down next to her, pulling the chairs close. ¡°Look at this detail here.¡± He pointed to a finer carving inside one of the triangles. ¡°I think these are connections, joining the two triangles together.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what it means?¡± Vic asked.


    ¡°Not yet. I haven¡¯t had time to research occult symbolism yet.¡± He pulled a binder off the desk and opened it. ¡°I went through the house and took photos of all the occult symbols I could find. They¡¯re everywhere.¡±


    Vic pulled half of the binder into her lap. The binder held hundreds of printouts of the various occult symbols in the house. There was the standard five-pointed star used in modern paganism and witchcraft, to ancient alchemical symbols. So many of them she had never seen.


    ¡°I guess we¡¯re both going to be researching these. Are we going to clean them up and keep them in the house?¡±


    Megan walked in and they both turned to look at her. For a brief moment, Vic swore she had a look of disgust on her face, but she must have imagined it because all she wore was a smile.


    ¡°What are you two doing?¡± She walked over to them and sat on the edge of Michael¡¯s chair.


    Michael held the binder up. ¡°I took some pictures of the occult symbols.¡±


    ¡°I was asking Michael if we were going to keep the symbols or not.¡±


    Vic had barely gotten the words out when both Megan and Michael blurted out ¡°No/Yes!¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not integral to the house,¡± Megan announced.


    ¡°They¡¯re completely integral to the house.¡± Michael intoned, his tone rising. ¡°We talked about this Megan.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re turning this house into an inn. It¡¯s going to creep people out. It creeps me out.¡± Megan stood and Michael followed her move.


    They both jumped down each other''s throats over it.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s a part of the house and it¡¯s history. The Charles¡¯ were into spiritualism. It has merit. I think it¡¯s really cool.¡± He intoned.


    ¡°Of course you would. You know I don¡¯t like it.¡± She folded her arms across her chest.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you always have to make a big deal out of it. Any time ghosts, hauntings, or the occult is mentioned you go ballistic and then everybody tiptoes around you so they don¡¯t upset you. Talking about it doesn¡¯t make it real. You keep saying it¡¯s not real, but you act like talking about it is going to bring the Devil down on you.¡± Michael shouted exasperated.


    Megan flicked her eyes over to Vic. ¡°Back me up, would you? You don¡¯t believe in this stuff. Tell him we don¡¯t need it in the house.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t bring me into this. I¡¯m only the historical expert.¡± Vic put her hands up in a placating way.


    ¡°Just tell her,¡± Michael said.


    Vic sighed, ¡°I agree with Michael. The symbols are part of the history and design of the house. I think they should stay. I think they¡¯ll fascinate more people than not.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I can¡¯t talk about this right now. Do what you''re going to do.¡± Megan stalked off slamming the door on her way out. Michael sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go.¡± Vic made to leave.


    ¡°No, no. Don¡¯t go. Please stay.¡± Michael said. ¡°Keep looking through the pictures. Maybe when we research it, they will tell us a story.¡± He followed after his wife.


    Vic picked up the binder and looked through the photos again. The symbols were worked into the trim around doorways, and on the woodwork on the stairwells, some were carved into doors themselves, Mantels, baseboards, and even some of the furniture. She looked at the pictures from front to back and then placed the binder back on the desk. She stood up and walked out of the room.


    Workmen still bustled about. The high-pitched sound from a vacuum cleaner as the operator sucked up dust from sanding. Large, black contractor bags dotted the great hall. She weaved her way around all the debris and made her way into the dining room. From the dining room, she went through a door in the north wall that led to a pantry, which had a staircase that descended to the pantry in the basement right off the kitchen.


    Vic was hungry but hadn¡¯t bought any food for herself yet. Megan told her that she was free to eat anything in the kitchen. They were going to set up a small, prep kitchen in the main floor pantry, which would come in handy when the inn was finished. A small restaurant will be on the main floor and this prep kitchen would be perfect. Once that kitchen was completed this main kitchen would be gutted to make way for a state-of-the-art kitchen, using reproduction pieces, and modern appliances made to look like they fit the Victorian aesthetic. Megan had told her that she and Michael had gone over whether or not to modernize the kitchen by bringing it up to the first floor, but had ultimately decided to keep it in its original location. They did not want to lose any space on the first floor.


    Vic looked in the cold room to see what was available and chose some lunch meat for a sandwich and a small salad to go with it. While she was in the kitchen the sounds of construction were muffled and she thought back to the terrifying nightmare she¡¯d had, plus waking up to find herself barefoot in the darkness of the cellar. She did not want to do that again. She had no idea why she had suddenly started sleepwalking again after not doing it for almost a decade.


    After she ate she wandered down the hall to the cellar and walked through the open door. Stark, white light made everything look dull and dingy. The light was still on from the night before. She strode to the center of the room and looked around. The room was about 15x15. There were no windows in this room, only shelves full of junk and the electrical box. Here she could feel the draft that she felt before. She looked behind the shelves for hidden doors but found none. Maybe there were gaps between some of the bricks and some way for the cold air to enter through them. Finding nothing here she walked back out into the hall and turned the light off behind her. She walked down a short corridor opposite the cellar and into the laundry room. An old washer and dryer stood side by side but contained wash basins and washboards from before washing machines existed. The room was wider than it was long and there were two windows high up on the north wall. Another door on the south wall led to a drying room where they used to hang-dry the wash in the past.


    The basement wasn¡¯t the terrifying bowels of hell during the daytime that she thought it was the night before. It was old and held a sort of dungeon quality about it. It would be less dungeony if it had been decorated in any way other than a bare stone floor, brick and stone walls, and no decoration of any kind. The windows had no curtains, no paintings hung on the walls. It was all business. She walked back out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Back down the short corridor she turned right and walked down a short flight of stairs to the boiler room. It was dark and grimy in this room, with a railing that ran around two sides of the room and a lower section reached by another set of stairs. The lower section held several enormous boilers with pipes rising to the ceiling and off to different parts of the house. This wasn¡¯t the original boiler, but looked to be a newer one installed in the 1950s. This room evoked nightmares and she took back what she thought about the basement not being the bowels of hell during the day. She was glad that she didn¡¯t have to spend any time working in this room. There were no cushions to place, or draperies to hang. Let the plumber have this room. She poked her head into a few more nooks and crannies surrounding the boiler room but found nothing of interest. The closets held spare and broken parts.


    Vic climbed the stairs back to the main hallway in the basement, her loafers quiet on the floor. She looked into another cellar, and then the servants¡¯ hall. There were so many rooms down here. Enough for an army, but only one family had lived here. A man, his wife, and two kids, and most of that time was one woman. She walked across the hall to another door labeled ¡°cellar¡± and opened the door.


    Something small and dark shot at her face. She stumbled backward, hands up in front trying to fend it off. Small claws raked at her hands. Wings beat at her head. Wings. A bird. The bird flew off down the hall as it looked for an escape. Vic¡¯s face was flushed, her breathing ragged. She began to laugh. A deep rolling laugh. It took her several minutes to stop laughing, all the while the sparrow flew back and forth looking for an escape. Once she got herself back under control she looked into the cellar the bird had come from. It was smaller than the other cellars, but this one had a busted window. The bird must have come through the broken window and also must be the source of the chill draft. She could feel it strongly here, especially when the wind blew outside.


    Somebody will have to catch that bird before it hurts itself, she thought. She left the cellar in search of something to catch the bird with. The next room was the wine cellar, which surprisingly still held some wine. She made a mental note to come back later. Finding nothing she took the stairs back to the first floor. Walking into the great hall, the room looked very different than it had in the morning. All the wallpaper was gone and sanding was being completed. All the woodwork was going to be gorgeous after it was restained. The sounds of Hammering and paper ripping from elsewhere on the main level could barely be heard over the sound of the vacuum that sucked up the dust. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Vic walked through the construction site looking for Michael, but he wasn¡¯t anywhere. He must still be with Megan, she thought. Her overreaction to the symbols baffled her. It was none of her business. She was here as the historical expert and that¡¯s what she¡¯d do. If they didn¡¯t want to go with historical accuracy as they claimed it didn¡¯t matter to her. What she needed now was help catching that bird. She found the contractor talking to another workman. She interjected and explained the issue. He gathered up a few of the guys, and a couple of blankets and went down to the basement to catch the bird.


    Twenty minutes later the bird had been captured, carried upstairs to be released outside, and the window was boarded up. Vic thought this was the perfect time to grab a bottle of wine and find her bosses. Technically Michael was her boss, but they were a duo. And she didn¡¯t want to be a point of contention between them. They could probably use a glass of wine like her.


    Vic found Megan in the dining room going over wallpaper samples again. There were too many samples. Megan looked up as she walked in. ¡°Look what I found in the wine cellar,¡± Vic said in a sing-song voice. Megan smiled.


    ¡°I owe you an apology.¡± Megan stood.


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Vic replied.


    ¡°I overreacted earlier and I shouldn¡¯t have. I should have been professional.¡±


    ¡°Everybody overreacts at some point. It¡¯s clear you don¡¯t like the topic. But enough about that. How about you, me and Michael demolish this bottle.¡± She handed the bottle to Megan who read the label. 1906 Sauvignon blanc.


    ¡°You read my mind,¡± Megan said as she took the bottle. ¡°Michael is going to love this.¡±


    As they walked into the great hall, the two boys Liam and William came through the reception hall with the nanny right behind them. Liam ran up to Megan and threw his arms around her.


    ¡°Mom, look what I made for you at school today,¡± He shoved a necklace made out of noodles in her face.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, I¡¯m going to wear it the rest of the day.¡± She put the loop over her head and hung it around her neck. Liam beamed.


    William came right behind his brother and handed a piece of paper with a drawing on it to Vic. ¡°This is for you. I didn¡¯t want you to feel left out.¡±


    Vic took the paper. It had a drawing of a big house on it, with his whole family on it, plus Vic and an old woman she assumed was the nanny. The family and Vic were standing in front of the house, but the nanny was hiding in a window.


    ¡°Aw, that¡¯s so sweet William. I love it!¡± Vic crooned.


    Megan looked at it. ¡°That was very nice of you William. Thank you!¡± She looked at Martha, ¡°Take the boys to the kitchen and give them a snack before playtime.¡±


    Vic looked at the drawing again. ¡°It¡¯s so sweet of him to give me a picture. I wonder why he put Martha in the window.¡±


    Megan shrugged, ¡°Check out this sweet necklace Liam made me. Bet you wish you had one of these.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have anywhere to wear it. I don¡¯t live a posh life.¡± Vic joked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you? You live in a mansion.¡± Megan said.


    The two women laughed and continued into the library. Michael looked up as they entered laughing and he smiled. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Said Megan, ¡°Just this sweet jewelry your son made me at school today.¡±


    Catching on, Michael said, ¡°Oh, I see he¡¯s trying to outdo his old man.¡±


    Michael came around the desk and walked over to Megan and kissed her. Megan lifted the bottle of wine so he could see it.


    ¡°Look what Vic found in the wine cellar.¡± Megan handed it to him.


    Michael took the bottle and looked at the label. ¡°Wow, This is old.¡± He looked up at Vic. ¡°We haven¡¯t had the chance to look through everything yet. Was this the only one left?¡±


    ¡°There are a few others.¡± The presence of the wine was making everything better. ¡°Come on! Let¡¯s drink this.¡± Vic said.


    Michael walked back over to the desk and set the bottle down. ¡°Wait, we don¡¯t have a corkscrew.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do,¡± Megan said. ¡°It¡¯s on your multi-tool.¡±


    Michael pulled his multi-tool out of his pocket and found the corkscrew. ¡°I never knew this would actually come in handy.¡± He started working on the cork.


    Megan grabbed some glasses that were sitting on a small bar cart and brought them over to the desk. She and Vic sat in the two chairs in front of the desk. Michael pulled the cork out and sniffed the bottle. Then he poured 3 glasses.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we supposed to let the wine breathe for a minute? Vic asked.


    ¡°I think so,¡± Megan replied.


    ¡°For how long?¡± Vic picked up a glass and smelled the wine. ¡°It smells good. Not like vinegar.¡±


    They all waited a few minutes while talking about what other vintages were hidden in the wine cellar and then they began drinking. Vic was surprised at how good it was. It was like she¡¯d never had real wine before. It was fruity, with a hint of vanilla and just a touch of sweetness. She then remembered the bird and the cracked window.


    ¡°I found the draft we¡¯ve been feeling in the basement,¡± Vic sipped her wine.


    Michael poured himself another glass of wine. ¡°Oh, where?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of a funny story,¡± Vic looked at the two of them.


    Megan leaned closer to Vic intrigued, and Michael rested his hands on the desk, one hand around his glass.


    ¡°I was looking around and checking things out when I opened the door to one of the cellars and a bird flew right in my face. I was so scared, at least until I realized what it was. It had come in through a broken window.¡± Megan and Michael were hysterical with laughter.


    Vic continued telling Megan and Michael about getting several workmen to corner and capture the bird to let it go outside. Michael told her that at the last house they had renovated the ceiling had caved in and a whole village of raccoons had fallen out. It was utter chaos, pure pandemonium. They laughed and drank, while they told funny stories.


    They passed the next couple of hours like this until Megan spoke. ¡°Well, that was fun. We should do it again sometime. But for now, duty awaits. Dinner isn¡¯t going to cook itself and I¡¯m sure Martha wants to get home.¡± She hoisted herself out of the chair, a little wobbly on her feet.


    Michael stood up and came around the desk to help her. But she said she had it. Vic said that she should go on up to her room. She was wobbly as well as she stood, but they hadn¡¯t drunk all that much. It was only one bottle of wine. She excused herself from their company.


    The workmen in the house were gathering up their gear and heading out for the day. The sky outside was getting darker, but full dark was still a couple of hours away. Today had been unusually sunny for early November. Vic walked through the great hall, now bare of all greatness, and made her way over to the grand staircase. As she climbed the steps she placed her right hand on the banister and ran her hand up it. The wood was rough beneath her skin. It was ready to be sanded and stained. The stairs creaked in places as she ascended. The stained glass loomed over her. She didn¡¯t know how she hadn¡¯t seen it before, but the woman reaching out for the unicorn looked pained. The unicorn looked like it was trying to backpedal away from her and upon looking closer she saw what looked like little devils or imps hiding in the flowers. The imps looked as though they were looking at her. She hurried by the stained glass window and continued up the stairs. The familiar hallway greeted her as she came off the stairs. She knew that many old medieval paintings and tapestries contained creepy images of women being carried off by devils, or devils hiding in the details, people with their entrails hanging out, and unicorns being stabbed. It was an interesting piece, but right now her head was spinning and she wanted to lay down. She continued down the hall to her room. She had drunk more than she thought. She hoped Megan wasn¡¯t too drunk to cook dinner for her family. She knew she was too drunk to cook. She wasn¡¯t even really that hungry. That was probably the wine talking. She should drink some water and order food. Or she could go to the kitchen and make food. No, she thought, she¡¯d already been in the basement enough for today. Plus she didn¡¯t feel like walking down two flights of stairs and back up. Where was her room? Did she pass it? She¡¯d been lost in thought. She should have reached it already. Her door was only about twenty steps from the top of the stairs. She¡¯d been walking for a couple of minutes. At least she thought she had. She looked down the hall, but what she saw puzzled her. The hall stretched an impossibly long distance. It must be the booze. She shook her head and the world spun. She shouldn¡¯t have done that. She grabbed the wall to steady herself. She looked back at the stairs expecting to see them far in the distance and they were right behind her. No more than two paces. She looked down the hall again and it looked normal. Her door was right where it should be, as was the end of the hall. She had definitely drunk too much wine.


    In her room, she got herself a glass of water using the tap in the bathroom. She gulped it down and collapsed onto the bed. Her head and vision swirled as she stared at the ceiling. The paint took on a textured look as she stared. Her eyelids were heavy and it was hard to hold them open. After minutes of trying to stay awake and will the inebriation away, her lids closed and did not open.


    Vic walked through an ancient cemetery, knee-high grass obscured the tombstones. Gnarled trees dotted the cemetery, their branches like bones reaching for the sky overhead. Clouds roiled across the sky, pushed by a storm. A chill wind blew and her skin crawled just being here. Was that beast still here, she wondered. She saw a man across the expansive cemetery. Who was he? He had a tophat. He was the man in the top hat she had been following. Why had she been following him? She must catch him. Then she could ask him? Maybe she knew him, or maybe he knew her. She ran across the lawn avoiding tombstones as she ran. Some of them were so small they were completely obfuscated by the grass and she nearly tumbled over them a few times. She ran past a statue of an angel, her face a look of pure terror. A gargoyle sat on her shoulder, its claws penetrating her skin, and its jaws clamped onto her neck. She shivered as she passed it. Up ahead she saw the man in the top hat walk around the corner of a mausoleum. Wolves howled in the distance. Terror welled up inside her. She ran for the mausoleum. When she reached it she went around the side of it looking for the man. She didn¡¯t see him, but the door to the mausoleum was open. She entered it.


    Inside it was dark, but somehow she could see. The lid of one of the tombs was shoved aside and a staircase descended into the ground. She didn¡¯t want to go down there into the darkness, but the howls of the wolves were getting closer. If she didn¡¯t move now they¡¯d be on her soon. She climbed into the tomb, the stone cold under her hands. She walked down the narrow, uneven steps, her hands trailing along the wall. Down she went, the howls of the wolves left behind. The air grew warm and a faint red glow could be seen. At last, she came to a large open room, the floor dirt, and mounded graves dotted the room, the walls nowhere to be seen. There was no ceiling, only a starry sky overhead with a blood-red moon. She could hear crickets chirping. She did not see the man. She walked closer to read the names on the tombstones. Magdalena Bishop (birth and death date), She walked to the next one. Josephine Bishop (birth and death dates), she walked to the next. Sofia Frank (Birth and death dates), she walked to the next one. Jillian Gray (birth and death date. Death date is today). There was one more tombstone, Vic didn¡¯t want to go near it, but she knew she had to. She walked as slow as a tortoise. She read the name on the stone, Victoria Gray. Fresh roses lay atop the grave. Black roses. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She grabbed the roses, thorns piercing her flesh, blood dripped from the wounds and spilled into the soil. The flowers spilled to the ground when she threw them, landing like matchsticks in the dirt. She sank to her knees and started digging into her grave, scraping the soil away handful, by handful. Soon her fingers ached with pain and the cold of the grave. She couldn¡¯t be down there. She was right here. Her mom wasn¡¯t dead. Why was she in this place? Why did she and her mom have graves next to her mom and grandmas? She dug with a fervor that defied logic. Her hands began to bleed but she would not stop. She dug for what must have been hours when her hands reached wood. The coffin. She brushed the dirt aside and pried at the lid, she strained until something popped and the lid pulled free. Inside was a body. A woman, A pregnant woman with her face. She recoiled in horror, scrambling up the side of the grave, loose dirt giving way beneath her as she slid back into it. It couldn¡¯t be, not herself. A look of terror on the corpse''s face, her hands cradling a desiccated pregnant belly. She wasn¡¯t pregnant. She had left her cheating ex more than six months ago and had not been with anybody else. She had to get away, she began climbing again, but this time hands came out of the ground and grabbed at her, pulled at her. She screamed.


    ¡°Vic, wake up.¡± Michael shook her. His brow wrinkled with worry.


    Vic opened her eyes and the first thing she noticed was Michael¡¯s rich brown eyes, and then his arms on her shoulders. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Fatigue pulled at her.


    ¡°You tell me. I was walking through and I saw you coming down the stairs and I called your name. You didn¡¯t respond. Then I noticed the blood.¡± He said.


    ¡°What blood?¡± She looked down at herself and noticed bloody scratches on her arms and dirt under her fingernails. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± He looked at her.


    He was handsome, she thought. What? No, don¡¯t think that. Why would you think that? He¡¯s married. Now¡¯s not the time. He stared into her face.


    ¡°I¡­I must have sleepwalked again. I mean, I know I sleepwalked. I didn¡¯t know I was sleepwalking,¡± she stammered. She took a breath, ¡°What I mean to say is that I fell asleep after I went upstairs. I must have been sleepwalking when you found me.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re bleeding? Do you ever hurt yourself while you¡¯re sleepwalking?¡± He took her hands and lifted her arms to inspect them.


    ¡°I was known to get some bumps and bruises when I sleepwalked as a kid.¡± She grew warm watching him inspect her scratches.


    ¡°Were you in the garden?¡± He turned her hands over inspecting her palms.


    She did look as if she¡¯d been in a garden. Her hands were dirty with dirt under the nails and scratches up and down her forearms. She remembered her dream and shivers ran down her spine.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Michael asked.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s nothing.¡± She lied. She must have been in the garden. There was no other explanation. It couldn''t have happened in her dream, it was impossible.


    ¡°Come with me and we¡¯ll get you cleaned up.¡± He took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom.


    The bathroom was small and carpeted in a burnt orange color and the walls had the faux wood paneling that was so popular in the 1970s. The toilet lid was one of those that also had the faux paneling look, and the seat was puffy. Michael sat Vic down on the lid, the air from the cushioned seat slowly squeezed out. He searched in the cabinet under the sink for the first aid kit. He found some rubbing alcohol and pulled that out, grabbed a washcloth and soap, and wetted both in the water that came from the tap. Vic glanced at his reflection in the ugly mirror and waited. The washcloth wet, warm, and soapy he kneeled in front of Vic, and grabbed her hand. With his other hand, he took the washcloth and gingerly dabbed at her wounds. He carefully cleaned them and he took her hands and placed them under the faucet, warm water flowed into the sink. He lathered her hands in soap and scraped out the dirt from beneath her nails. She looked at him as he cleaned her hands, a warmth spread through her body. He turned his gaze towards her and she hastily coughed and looked elsewhere.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m almost done.¡± He grabbed a towel and dried off her hands and arms. Then he grabbed a cotton disc and poured rubbing alcohol. ¡°This is going to sting a bit.¡± He then wiped her scratches with it. Vic jerked at the sharp pain it caused when it touched her open wounds. She gritted her teeth and waited for Michael to finish. After a minute Michael proclaimed her all better, and she thanked him.


    ¡°Would you care for another drink?¡± Michael looked at her.


    ¡°Oh, no! Not tonight. I think I had enough earlier. Despite the nap, I feel so tired. Tired and hungry.¡± She stood, the bathroom too small for two people. Vic could feel Michael¡¯s body heat in the confined space, their faces inches apart. Her heart all a flutter. This is ridiculous, she thought. They both stammered, then Michael opened the bathroom door and they both shuffled out.


    Megan was coming down the hallway and saw them. She had resting bitch face and didn¡¯t try to hide it. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± She said coolly. It was a quick one-eighty from when they were all the best of friends a few hours prior.


    ¡°I was cleaning Vic''s wounds.¡± He indicated her arms.


    Vic lifted her arms for Megan to see. ¡°I think I sleepwalked through the garden. There¡¯s no other explanation.¡±


    Megan let out a breath that she¡¯d been holding and her face softened. ¡°We should do something about that. We don¡¯t want you getting injured again.¡± She looked at Michael. ¡°Where¡¯s that box of keys that came with the house?¡±


    ¡°I think I left it in the library. Let me go find that.¡± and off Michael went in search of a box of keys.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go sit,¡± Megan slid her arm through Vic¡¯s and dragged her off to the library. There weren¡¯t any other places to currently relax on the main floor.


    Both women found Michael looking through drawers and boxes when they entered. He was pulling miscellaneous things out of several different boxes, searching for the one that held the keys.


    ¡°Sit here,¡± Megan motioned for Vic to sit on a Settee that sat between two bookcases. ¡°I¡¯ll be back, I¡¯m going to go make you some chamomile tea to soothe you.¡± Megan left the room.


    ¡°There¡¯s so much stuff here,¡± He continued to rummage. Then he looked in a small box, ¡°Ah, here it is. All the keys to the various doors in the house.¡± He brought it over to Vic and sat next to her on the sofa and began pulling keys out of the box.


    Vic pulled a side table over and they laid out all the keys. There had to be more than twenty keys there. ¡°What are all these keys for?


    ¡°They go to all the doors in the house.¡± He arranged them by shape and size.


    A few minutes later Megan returned with a tray of steaming drinks. A hot tea for Vic and hot coffee for her and Michael. She set the tray down on the desk and carried over the tea for Vic and the coffee for Michael. Then she pulled one of the armchairs over to them, retrieved her coffee, and sat down.


    ¡°Why are there so many keys?¡± Megan sipped her coffee.


    ¡°Old homes had a key for every door, plus a skeleton key.¡± Megan looked nervous. ¡°What we¡¯d call a master key.¡± Megan relaxed.


    ¡°We can try every key in your lock if you think locking your door every night will help keep you from getting injured while sleepwalking.¡± Michael took a sip of coffee.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lock myself in every night.¡± Vic was scared, she didn¡¯t want to be going through this again. Sleepwalking made her childhood a nightmare. But she didn¡¯t want them to know it bothered her so much. ¡°If the key is here I¡¯ll take it, but I don¡¯t want to lock myself in unless I have to. These two times are the first time I¡¯ve sleepwalked in years. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯d start again now.¡± Vic sipped at her tea. It was still a little too hot. She held the mug in her hands and tried to warm herself. She felt chilled to the bone.


    Megan leaned forward and put a hand on Vic¡¯s knee. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We¡¯ll keep an eye on you. Won¡¯t we Michael?¡± Megan glanced at him.


    ¡°Of course we will.¡± He said.


    ¡°Great, ¡°Megan gathered up all the keys and put them in the box Michael held out. ¡°Let¡¯s go find out which one goes to your room.


    Vic put down her mug and followed Megan out of the room, Michael trailed behind her. Upstairs in the worn and tired hallway, Megan gave the box to Michael to hold and she grabbed a key at random. She pushed the metal key into the old-fashioned keyhole and turned. Nothing. She handed the key to Vic, and she grabbed another. She put the key in the hole and turned. This one also did not budge. She handed the key to Vic and grabbed another one from the box that Michael held. They went on in this manner for several minutes, having exhausted most of the keys, until finally, one clicked.


    ¡°Got it,¡± Meg tried the doorknob, locked. She unlocked the door.


    Vic put all the keys she held back into the box and took the key that Megan held out to her. ¡°Thank you,¡± She told the two of them. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to go to bed early.¡± She bid them both a good night and went into her room. She listened as their footsteps took them away from her.


    What was she going to do? She didn¡¯t want to be sleepwalking at 26. She didn¡¯t want the nightmares that came with it. She thought back to when she was a teenager. Did she and her mom ever figure out why she was sleepwalking? She didn¡¯t think so. After graduating high school she went off to Columbia on a full-ride scholarship. She remembered that her mother was worried about her sleepwalking in New York, but she assured her mom that she¡¯d lock her door and that she had a roommate to help look over her. But once she was there she¡¯d never sleepwalked again. Well, at least not until the previous night. It couldn¡¯t be being in Detroit. She came back to the city after her undergrad. She had spent the whole summer at home with her mom. She enrolled at the University of Michigan the next semester for her doctorate, which she was close to finishing. All she had left was to write her dissertation on the history and architecture of the Charles¡¯ House. And then what? She hoped it was in repairing and preserving the history of these great old houses.


    She had to sit down and write up her notes on the project. She detailed the current condition of the house and the projects that were currently underway. She began detailing the design elements found in the house, their condition, and how she thought they were going to be either repaired or replaced. Every big city had a store full of used fixtures from houses that you could buy. They helped people renovate historic homes the most because most of these pieces once removed from a home usually end up in the trash and are lost to time.


    She worked on her notes for another hour and then shut her laptop down. She walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Back in the bedroom, she stripped out of her clothing. When she removed her bra, dirt fell out. Her skin felt prickly. It was from the garden. She had sleepwalked to the garden and had gotten scratched up in the dead rose bush. That must have been when she fell and got her hands dirty. That¡¯s where the dirt had come from. It wasn¡¯t her dream, it wasn¡¯t.


    She dumped her clothing in her hamper and then walked into the shower. It was hot and steamy at this point. She had cracked the window open because these old bathrooms didn¡¯t have exhaust fans. The cold air hit her occasionally, which caused her to shiver, but the hot water felt divine. It was as if all the troubles and worries of the day were washed off. Even if red scratches and memories remained.


    After her shower, she put on her bathrobe and wrapped up her hair. She grabbed her book from the side table and lit the gas lantern for some ambiance. Then she sat in one of the armchairs. She opened her book to the bookmark and began to read. It was a lengthy historical drama. She read until her eyes ached and she had to keep rereading sentences to understand what they meant. She put her bookmark in place, set the book on the table, and turned off the gas lamp. Then she dragged herself to bed after turning off the other lights. Streetlights cast shadows of the frilly lace curtains against the wall. As she drifted off to sleep she was certain somebody was whispering nearby. Not out in the hall, but in the room with her. She tried to listen, but sleep claimed her.

 Chapter 4

    The morning was cool and overcast, and clouds overhead threatened rain. The house was ablaze with construction; men and some women bustled about. Vic stepped out onto the back porch with a steaming mug of tea. A chill breeze caused her to pull her cardigan tighter, and the air smelled of Thanksgiving to come. She looked out across the overgrown garden. When the house was built it boasted a several-acre lot, now the backyard only spanned about 200 to 300 feet back. The garden took up all that space. Several flagstone walkways through the garden were broken up by various-sized beds. Everything had been neglected for a long time. The bushes were overgrown, weeds were everywhere and Virginia Creeper grew through all of it. It was the Middle of November now and everything was brown and dead.


    Vic took the steps down into the garden, curious whether there were roses in it. She walked down the wide middle path that led to a circular sitting area in the center of the garden. It was twenty feet in diameter and held a stone fountain in the middle. It was full of dead leaves and mud. Around the fountain were several stone benches. She sat on one and sipped her tea as it cooled. It was nice out here. This garden must have been amazing when it was being taken care of. Now it was all weeds. Would she recognize a rose bush without roses? Maybe she should be looking for thorns instead.


    In the distance, thunder crashed. She wasn¡¯t ready to go back into the house, she stood and meandered her way around the garden. Every garden had roses, didn¡¯t they? She thought. She was having no luck. She didn¡¯t even know what most of these plants were. She was not a gardener and didn¡¯t have a green thumb. She couldn¡¯t even keep houseplants alive. Every time she tried they shriveled up and died. She was no good at watering them. She was always too busy reading to be bothered with watering plants. She liked them, but only if somebody else was caring for them. She dated a guy once who had turned his whole dorm room into a jungle. Now he had a green thumb.


    At the rear of the property, a privacy fence ran the length of it. Over the top of which she could see the roofs of various houses. She wondered what the neighbors thought of this house. Probably that it would be nice if it weren¡¯t in such disrepair. Or did they believe in ghosts and hauntings? She looked back at the house and it loomed over the garden. She could see the grandness in it, but it required a lot of love and elbow grease. The roof was intact only because the previous owner who had died and was the reason why Michael and Megan were able to buy the place had needed to replace it several years back. The house had a steep, imposing roofline, with brick chimneys rising through, many gables, and wrought iron fencing running along the peaks. There in one of the windows of the second floor stood a person watching her. She couldn¡¯t see them clearly at this distance, but she knew that it wasn¡¯t Michael, Megan, or the nanny Martha. Maybe they are working on something upstairs.


    Without another thought, she turned back to the garden. Thunder crashed again, closer this time. She continued her search around the garden. Did roses die out if nobody cared for them any longer, she thought? In a garden bed around the border, she came to a thorny plant, but it wasn¡¯t roses. It was wild raspberry. She supposed she could have gotten her arms ripped up reaching into those. She looked around the whole area for a patch of disturbed ground. Heavy raindrops started to fall. She didn¡¯t see what she was looking for but she guessed that¡¯s what had happened. No need to fret over it. She would lock her door that night to keep herself inside. The rain started slow, but it was beginning to come down hard by the time she reached the porch, and had her running the last few feet to reach the cover it provided. She turned to watch the torrent of rain as it fell. The garden would probably be the last thing they updated. Even more chilled by her wet clothes she went inside.


    After having changed into dry clothes she went to find Megan and begin the day''s projects. She met Martha and the boys on the stairs as they descended to the main level. The boys, Liam and William each wore a yellow rain jacket and carried a child-sized backpack. They smelled like roses. The boys not waiting for the slow adults raced to the bottom, Martha calling after them to not run on the stairs. They ran into their dad at the bottom. Michael hugged them both and ruffled their hair, telling them to mind Miss Martha. There is to be no running down the stairs.


    He looked up at Vic as she walked down the stairs. Martha caught up to the boys and took them to see their mom before she headed out with them.


    ¡°How are you doing this morning?¡± Michael asked her.


    ¡°Oh, you know. Getting rained on in the garden.¡± She stepped off the stairs and walked over to him.


    ¡°It¡¯s really coming down out there. Like cats and dogs.¡±


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡± She asked.


    ¡°You know, I never thought about it. I don¡¯t really know.¡± He looked at her arms, but they were covered by sleeves. ¡°How are your scratches today? Do they hurt?¡±


    Vic pulled up one of her sleeves and looked. The scratches were red and angry. ¡°They look worse than they feel. There¡¯s a little sting, but they¡¯re also itchy.¡±


    Workmen began putting up plastic sheeting at the end of the hallway.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on in there?¡± Vic pointed.


    ¡°We have to remove the plaster from one whole wall. It¡¯s all come loose from the slats.¡± He put his hands in his pockets.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you put up plastic sheeting when they were sanding the woodwork?¡± She inquired.


    ¡°We forgot. We were so excited to get started that I was ordering everybody around and we all forgot about it. At least Darryl was smart enough to pull out the vacuum and gather it up while it was being done.¡±


    ¡°I need to go find Megan and get started. Talk in a little bit?¡± She waited for him to answer.


    ¡°Yeah, that would be good.¡± He smiled at her.


    Talk in a bit? What was she thinking? Looking at his handsome face she couldn¡¯t help it. She wanted to spend time with him, only as friends though. Yes, friends, she could be friends. She tucked that thought away and went in search of Megan. She entered the dining room. Rain pattered off the windows at the end of the room. All the lights were on, and it was still gloomy in there. Megan was going over the fabric choices for the drawing room.


    ¡°Morning Vic,¡± Megan looked up. ¡°This is what I¡¯ve picked out. I want your thoughts on the style.¡±


    Vic walked halfway down the twenty-foot length of the table and stopped in front of a pile of fabric samples. Right away she saw several that didn¡¯t match the time period and she pointed them out.


    ¡°This pink one here is a design that came about from the 1930s. It¡¯s a nice print, but doesn¡¯t match.¡± Vic explained. ¡°Is it the color or pattern that interested you first?¡±


    Megan picked up the sample and ran her hand over it. ¡°I like the color. The pattern is cute, but now that you¡¯ve pointed out that it¡¯s not the right time period It would look silly with everything else.¡±


    They spent the morning going over the fabric choices for the draperies, chairs, pillows, settees, sofas, and the like. At lunch, they made something quick in the kitchen and went back to work. After lunch, the women grabbed their bags and headed out to ¡°Time Warp Fabrics,¡± a business that specialized in vintage reproductions of fabrics. They walked through the barren great hall, Megan poked her head through the plastic at the end to tell Michael where they were going. And then the two women exited the house.


    From the front the house rose up menacingly, the paint peeled in many places and dark windows looked down. The rain from earlier had stopped, but the sky was still dark with clouds threatening more rain. The two women climbed into Megan''s sporty red car and zipped off down the road.


    Detroit traffic was always busy, especially on Woodward Avenue. They headed north towards Highland Park. Orange and white traffic barrels lined the avenue, construction was always going on in Detroit. Once one project was done another began and before too long It always came back around to the first project. The freeze/thaw cycle of Michigan winters made road construction a constant in the State. They passed the historic ¡°First Congressional Church¡± on the right and the ¡°Wayne County Sheriff''s Headquarters¡± on the left. Modern buildings mingled with historic ones and they drove north on asphalt in need of repair, and into areas where the road was pristine and new. Empty lots dotted the roadside between condos, churches, and office buildings. After driving several miles they came to their destination on the right.


    A stylish two-story building with full windows displayed fabrics of all types in the form of curtains, furniture, pillows, and clothing. They parked in the back and entered through double doors into the saleroom. Aisle upon aisle, bolts of fabric were displayed. Each section was organized by type of fabric and then by decade or time period. The marble floors gleamed, and bright, modern light fixtures illuminated the building. The store bustled with people as they worked their way through to a help desk. They waited for a few minutes and then a grandmotherly-looking woman with short, gray curls and glasses came to greet them. Her name was Nancy.


    Megan introduced herself and Vic, and Vic told Nancy what they were looking for. Nancy took them through a few sections and they collected different bolts of fabric made of cotton, linen, silk, and wool to look over. They were shown to a tabled area to set everything upon, and Megan pulled out their extensive catalog and the two women spent the rest of the afternoon going through their choices and looking at, and feeling the fabrics they selected. They made a list of the fabrics, their name, number, and the amount they needed. They took it to Nancy, ordered and paid. Nancy told them that their order would be available to pick up in two weeks and the women left.


    They stopped at a few other places and arrived at the house just as the workmen were leaving for the day. A slight drizzle had started up while they were out, and the two women ran from the car to the house. Inside the lights were on, and two rambunctious boys came running to throw their little bodies against their mother. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Mommie, mommie,¡± they shouted.


    Megan hugged them and drew them away into the house with her. Vic walked to the dining room, took off her coat, and hung it on a chair. Then she went in search of Michael. She entered the library, but he wasn¡¯t there. She smelled cigar smoke. She didn¡¯t know Michael smoked cigars. It wasn¡¯t that unpleasant a smell. He was probably in the kitchen making dinner with his family. She decided to go up to her room and work on her notes.


    In her room, Vic turned on the lights and decided it would be nice to start a fire in the fireplace. Michael had previously placed a few logs in there in case she wanted to use it. All the chimneys in the house had been inspected and only a few were usable. A few could be repaired, but the majority of them were not able to be repaired due to the high cost it would take to remove them brick by brick and rebuild them. It¡¯s much easier to build a chimney than to rebuild a chimney.


    She spent a few minutes getting the fire started in the fireplace and then she picked up her laptop off the desk and sat in a chair near it. She woke up her computer and opened her file. She typed up her notes about the day, the projects that were worked on in the house, and the fabric choices selected. The notes of this type probably wouldn¡¯t make it into her paper, but they were still important.


    She had been typing for about twenty minutes when a knock came at her door. ¡°Come in.¡± She called. The door opened and Michael walked in carrying a tray with a steaming bowl placed on it, with some bread and a glass of wine. He carried it over to the small round table near her and set it down.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± She closed her laptop. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to bring me anything.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. You and Megan did so much today that I took it upon myself to cook dinner with the boys.¡± He placed the soup in front of her, then the plate with bread, and lastly the glass of wine with a generous portion.


    ¡°You¡¯re my boss. You¡¯re not required to feed me. I could have come down.¡± She placed her laptop on the floor.


    ¡°I might as well. We have to cook our own meals. One more serving is nothing. Besides, Megan insisted.¡± He placed the empty tray on the bed.


    ¡°Your wife is wonderful. I really like her.¡± She picked up the spoon and scooped up some soup. She blew on it before bringing it to her mouth and eating it. Her eyes lit up. ¡°What is this? It¡¯s good.¡±


    He smiled at that. ¡°Albondigas, a type of Mexican meatball stew.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing,¡± she ate another spoonful.


    ¡°Come on down to the library when you¡¯re finished. I have something to show you,¡± He turned towards the door.


    ¡°Sure,¡± was all she said.


    Vic picked up her book from before and read it while she ate. When she was finished she loaded up the tray and took the servants'' stairs directly to the basement. More lighting should be added to this stairwell, she thought. Shadows coalesced where the light didn¡¯t reach, and it felt like someone was watching her as she descended. The narrow stairwell, along with the darkness gave it an eerie feeling.


    She stepped out into the main hallway in the basement. Dimmed lighting lit the length of it. She thought she saw a figure at the far end, but couldn¡¯t make out who they were. It was either Michael or Megan, being the only other people in the house. Then the light at the end of the hall went out.


    ¡°Hello,¡± her voice came out in a creak.


    Another light went out. Darkness shrouded the end of the hall. Footsteps came towards her down the hall. Then the light in the middle of the hallway went out. She hurried to the kitchen door. The light near the stairwell went out. She could not see whoever it was. She could hear the figure getting closer. And then the last light went out shrouding the hall in complete blackness.


    She balanced the tray against her hip and fumbled to open the kitchen door with her other hand. It cracked open and she pushed her way inside and leaned back against the door. A loud bang hit the door as if someone had thrown themselves against it. She dropped the tray and shrieked. All the items clattered to the ground. The wine glass splintered into pieces. After a moment she was able to compose herself a little better. The flutter in her chest began to settle. She flipped the switch near the door and white light flooded the room. The tray and its contents scattered across the floor, broken glass glinting in the light.


    She turned slowly and prepared herself to open the door. She could hear the rush of blood past her eardrums, and time stretched. She placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. She slowly pulled it open a crack. Nothing but blackness greeted her on the other side. She didn¡¯t like being down here. Somebody must have snuck in to play pranks on them. She let the door close and then she hurriedly picked up the mess on the floor. She deposited the broken glass in the trash and put the rest in the sink and then she made for the stairs in the pantry. There was no way she was going back out into that blackened hallway. Not with whoever may be lurking there.


    She rushed up the darkened stairs, through the pantry, across the dining room, and into the hall. From there she made her way into the library. Its lights were aglow and Michael sat at the desk, his head buried in a book. He looked up at her as she came in and hurriedly shut the door behind her.


    ¡°Were you just in the basement?¡± Fear tinged her voice.


    ¡°What?¡± He set the book down.


    ¡°Tell me that you were not in the basement a moment ago pranking me.¡± The pitch of her voice rising.¡±


    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t in the basement. I¡¯ve been here. I¡¯ve been reading this diary that Megan found in the kids'' room.¡±


    ¡°Where is Megan?¡± She was trying to hold it together.


    ¡°Upstairs with the boys.¡± A look of concern came across his face.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s an intruder in the house,¡± and she recounted what had happened.


    Michael pulled out his phone and called upstairs to Megan.


    ¡°Megan, are you and the boys safe?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to alarm you, but there may be an intruder in the house.¡±


    ¡°No, I want you to stay there and lock the doors. I¡¯m in the library with Vic. I¡¯m going to call the police.¡±


    ¡°No, we can¡¯t come up. They could still be in the house.¡±


    ¡°Calm down, everything is going to be okay. We have to be safe about this.¡±


    ¡°Yes, as soon as the police are here.¡±


    ¡°No, No, I¡¯ll stay on the line,¡± Michael looked to Vic. ¡°Can you call the police? Megan doesn¡¯t want me to hang up.¡±


    Vic nodded and called 911. The operator picked up and asked her what the emergency was. She told them they thought there was an intruder in the house. They have small children here. The operator tells her that she is sending it through to dispatch and officers should be there shortly. Michael continued to talk to Megan over the phone. Shortly there came a loud knock from the front door. Michael skurried out of the room to answer it. Vic was hot on his heels. No way was she going to stay alone. There was safety in numbers.


    Michael unlocked the front doors and opened them. Two officers stood on the porch. They exchanged brief greetings and he let them into the house. The first officer was a tall African-American Man named Jones, and the other was a shorter African-American man named Smith.


    Vic told them what happened to her. They asked her and Michael if one of the crewmen might have stayed behind to play a prank. They didn¡¯t think so. Vic didn¡¯t find it funny. The officers told them they should stay in the library until they were done searching the house. Michael told them he had to go get his wife and kids from upstairs. He was told to hurry up.


    Megan and the kids were at the stairs and coming down by the time Michael got to them and Megan wrapped her arms around him. He held her close. The boys wanted to know what was going on. They were frightened and Liam was crying. Vic went over to Liam and took his hand. Michael ushered them all into the library.


    ¡°Now you lock that door. We¡¯ll let you know when it¡¯s safe to come out.¡± Officer Jones said.


    Vic sat in one of the armchairs and pulled Liam into her lap. ¡°It¡¯s okay. There¡¯s nothing to be worried about.¡±


    Michael sat Megan down on the settee, and he sat with her. William clinging to her skirt. Michael had told her what had happened while they were on the phone waiting for the police to arrive.


    They waited for what felt like ages. The boys finally fell asleep, Liam in Vic''s lap and William in Michael''s lap. The adults talked.


    ¡°Did you leave a door unlocked?¡± Megan asked.


    ¡°No, I always lock the doors every evening when the crew leaves,¡± Michael said.


    ¡°Maybe we should keep them locked even when they¡¯re here,¡± Megan suggested.


    ¡°They come and go too often to be able to do that. I¡¯ll have to double-check them later.¡± Michael said.


    They sat there and waited for over an hour. The house was huge and there were many places someone could hide. Just when they thought that something had happened to the officers a knock came at the door.


    ¡°We¡¯ve checked the whole house,¡± Came Officer Smith¡¯s voice through the door.


    Michael handed William over to Megan. He stood and went to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to let the officers in.


    ¡°Well¡­this house isn¡¯t easy to search, that¡¯s for sure,¡± said Officer Jones.


    ¡°The good news is that we didn¡¯t find anybody here. We looked everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.¡± Said Officer Smith.


    ¡°But we did find a broken window in the basement. It¡¯s more than likely somebody from the neighborhood, or a thrill-seeker broke it to get in.¡± Said Officer Jones.


    Vic interjected. ¡°I found the window broken yesterday. There was a bird that had gotten in.¡±


    ¡°Then the person probably found it while looking for a way in. When you went downstairs and saw them you startled them.¡± Said Officer Jones.


    ¡°They charged me! All the lights went out. I was terrified.¡± Vic said.


    ¡°Be that as it may the lighting in these old houses is wonky. It¡¯s just a coincidence. I¡¯m sure you spooked him as much as he spooked you. He must have gone right back out that window. I¡¯d get that fixed sooner rather than later.¡± With that, they said their goodbyes and left.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check that window right now and make sure it¡¯s boarded up properly. It must not have been secured right yesterday. You ladies head up and get some rest.¡± Michael went to lock the door behind the police.


    Vic picked up Liam and carried him up behind Megan and helped her put the boys to bed. She then walked back down the hall to her room. When she stepped inside she locked the door behind her and then put the key in the desk drawer. She checked under her bed, behind furniture, and in the bathroom just in case. There was nobody there. She didn¡¯t think she could sleep yet, so she grabbed her laptop and crawled under the covers.

 Chapter 5

    Vic opened her eyes to see a wall of dirt all around her, and a rectangular opening up above. Through the opening, she could see the moon shining brightly. She jumped up out of a coffin and crawled out of the grave. Looking around she was in a cemetery. It was familiar. Tombstones dotted the landscape, broken up by mausoleums and statues of tortured angels, gnarled trees reaching for the sky. Nearby was a mausoleum she recognized and she walked to it. Dodging small headstones hidden by the long grass.


    She could see the door was open when she got there. The lid was pulled aside, but instead of the staircase, she expected to see there was only a casket. She looked for the name on it. A plaque on the wall behind the tomb said ¡°Virginia Charles.¡± She opened the casket, but it was empty. She heard rustling outside and turned to look. A dark figure in a top hat entered the doorway. It was the man she¡¯d been following. Edward Charles.


    He looked at her and then turned away, disappearing outside. Vic went after him. Outside she saw that he was already across the cemetery and heading up the path to the house. She ran after him, dodging the hidden tombstones. Wolves howled in the distance. She ran down the short gravel path to the house. It loomed menacingly above her. She hurried to the stone stairs and up to the large double doors. She opened them and went inside. The light was dim, despite all the chandeliers and wall sconces being lit. The inside of the house looked grotesque and twisted. The walls weren¡¯t straight and things curved oddly. The ceiling to the great hall was gone and the night sky could be seen above. But it wasn¡¯t any ordinary night sky. The moon was gigantic and cast a sickly, white light through swirling clouds. She looked up and saw Edward walking up the grand stairs. She crossed the room towards the stairs and she saw candelabras floating in the air, and behind them, she saw dark shapes flitting about. Up the stairs, she went after Edward. She stepped into the hall. It stretched in two directions, so far that she couldn¡¯t see the ends. A door closed to her right. She hurried after. The wallpaper was peeling off in strips by itself and floating away in the air. Blood seeped from the plaster and streaked down the walls. The carpet was squishing under her feet and she looked down. The carpet was swollen with water, no, not water, blood! She lifted her feet and blood oozed out of the saturated carpet.


    She opened the door Edward had entered and found a small bedroom with a woman lying on the bed crying. She wore a pink Victorian dress and sobbed. Vic went to her and touched her. She asked the woman if she was okay. The woman turned to look at her and found her eyes all red, red veins streaked away from her eyes. The woman scowled and came at her. Vic ran through a nearby door and found herself in the basement. She shut the door behind her, and the woman crashed into the door, causing it to thump. The basement hall was dimly lit, shadows coiled in the darkness. Footsteps echoed in the distance. Her breath came out in a cloud and she wrapped her arms around herself. She could hear noises behind every door. Noises she couldn¡¯t quite make out. She thought she heard chains coming from one room, and a low moaning from another. She slowly walked down the hallway when she heard the door she came through break open. She quickly turned and the woman was right upon her. The woman''s red eyes and streaking veins, had a look of complete rage on her face, her hands bent and gnarled with her fingernails looking like claws. The woman pulled back to strike. Vic held her breath and covered her face with her arms.


    When Vic came to, she found herself held by Michael. She was lying on the floor inside her room. He was calling her name. Megan stood in the doorway in her nightgown and robe, and she had her arms wrapped around herself.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Michael¡¯s body was warm against hers.


    ¡°You were scratching and banging on the door.¡± He said.  ¡°I had to get the master key to unlock your door. I tried to wake you up, but when I reached for you, you threw your arms up and fell backward. I caught you on the way down.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Christ! I was trying to sleepwalk out of here.¡± Vic hurriedly removed herself from Michael¡¯s embrace. She was so embarrassed, not just from waking them up and scaring them, but also from waking up in Michael¡¯s arms with his wife watching. She stood. ¡°I¡¯m so embarrassed, I¡¯m fine, I didn''t mean to worry you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay,¡± He looked at Megan. ¡°We¡¯re glad you¡¯re okay.¡±


    She walked over to Megan and put her hands on her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m okay, It was just sleepwalking.¡± Megan nodded her head but didn¡¯t say anything. Vic hugged her and Megan leaned into her hug. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to worry you.¡±


    She stood back and Micheal walked over and put his arms around Megan. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll let you get some sleep now.¡± He turned and drew Megan away with him.


    Vic closed her door and found long scratches on the back of it. She had been trying to claw her way through the door. She looked at her nails to find them chipped and broken. What was she going to have to do? Chain herself to the bed? She had to call her mom, see a doctor, or both. This was getting out of hand. She couldn¡¯t sleep. She was wide awake now.


    When she was young she didn¡¯t sleepwalk this much. Rarely had she sleepwalked more than once or twice a week. Her sleepwalking came back hard. She¡¯d sleepwalked three times in four days. Maybe if she could figure out those nightmares she would stop sleepwalking.


    The first nightmare was the same as the one she had as a kid. She was always following this man in black through a labyrinth of hallways and rooms and the terrifying chase through the cemetery. She always woke before the beast got her. What did her school project have to do with anything? Why was she trying to catch that man, or was he leading her somewhere? Why was she following him through a maze of a house that now that she thought about it looked eerily similar to the one she was in right now? And why, when she finally got to see him he looked like Edward Charles? She was so confused. She should call a therapist in the morning and make an appointment. Maybe they can help her unravel it.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Now that the shock of what just happened had worn off she was feeling tired, but she was afraid to go to sleep. She didn¡¯t want to go right back into that dream. She wanted to stop having these nightmares and stop sleepwalking. She grabbed a lap blanket with a cartoon printed on it, wrapped it around herself, and quietly padded into the hall in socks. She went down the creepy servants¡¯ stairs to the main floor and into the library. Maybe reading something would help.


    She turned on the desk lamp and sat in the chair behind the desk. The newspaper articles about the house and the Charles¡¯ sat in a neat pile. Granted they weren¡¯t the originals. Michael had them photocopied and the originals sent off to be preserved properly. The first article she grabbed was about the completion of the home.


    The Grand House of Edward Charles, Alderman Finishes Completion


    Edward Charles, lumber baron and sitting alderman for the city of Detroit. Philanthropist of the people, he undertook this endeavor four years ago to provide a stately home for his young wife. He began construction shortly after the tragic death of his fifteen-year-old son, who sadly died in a freak accident. Having been crushed to death by logs that had broken free of their ropes and rolled off the pile.


    The Charles House as it¡¯s being called has finished completion at a cost of $400,000 dollars. That makes it the most expensive house in Detroit, and also the largest, most grand house in Detroit. It boasts 12 bedrooms, 13 bathrooms, 20 fireplaces, 16 cut-glass chandeliers, A two-story skylit ballroom, and an abundance of intricately carved oak and mahogany wood craftsmanship. It also possesses a state-of-the-art mechanical system intricately integrated throughout the mansion, providing centralized heating, gas and electric lighting, plumbing, ventilation, security, and communication.


    Vic pulled out another article about the social activities of Virginia Charles.


    Socialite Virginia Charles to hold ball in the newly built Charles House.


    Virginia Charles, wife of the great Edward Charles, lumber baron and sitting Alderman is to host a grand ball in their skylit ballroom on May the 20th, 1890. We¡¯ve gotten a peak at the guest list and it includes all the who''s who in the City and surrounding areas. This will be a very swanky party, with no expense spared. It¡¯s fair to say that many a partnership will be started at this party, and possibly many a miss will become a Mrs. We give our readers who will not be in attendance a peak behind the curtain because yours truly has received an invitation. I will not let you readers down.


    Vic spotted a book on the desk. She hadn¡¯t seen it before. She reached for it and picked it up. It was a faded pink. Opening it up and reading the first page it read, ¡°The private diary of Virginia Charles.¡± Was this what Michael had wanted to show her earlier? This was huge! This contained the personal thoughts and writings of the woman who had lost everything that mattered most. She turned the page and began to read.


    March 3rd, 1890


    Today is the most wonderful day dear diary. Our house. The house that Edward built for us is complete. Oh, how it¡¯s been so long that I¡¯ve waited for this. I cannot wait to host parties. They will be grand affairs. We will have music and dancing, and serve the finest foods. The women will come wearing their best dresses. The young ones searching for a handsome husband of means. The men will come wearing their best suits. I absolutely cannot wait for moving day. Edward said that it was still a ways away. They have to move all the furniture in and hire the help. And the gardens still have yet to be planted. You can¡¯t plant gardens in March, but soon.


    April 3rd, 1890


    Soon we will be moving into the house. I can¡¯t believe it. I thought that it would never be finished. It took 4 years, $400,000 dollars, and 28 tons of lumber to complete it. Edward said it¡¯s a modern marvel. It has all the bells and whistles of a modern house. I know my sister must be Jealous, but I know Georgia is happy for me.


    May 10th, 1890


    Today is moving day. All my trunks are packed and all I¡¯m waiting for now is the carriage that will take me to the house. I had to write down my thoughts for fear I¡¯d burst if I didn''t. It¡¯s been quite some time since I¡¯ve been given a tour. Edward said that it is much too dangerous for a lady to be wandering through a construction site. I have not seen the inside of the house in months. I¡¯m bursting with joy and excitement. The carriage will be here at one o¡¯clock sharp. The servants tried to get me to eat, but I couldn¡¯t eat a thing. Maybe by supper time. But I think not even then. I told my maid this morning not to tighten my corset too tightly. I¡¯m afraid I will pass out if my corset is too tight. I should put this diary away and make sure that I¡¯m not missing anything. I would hate to leave anything behind.


    May 10th, 1890


    I cannot believe my good fortune. Edward has proven to be the most wonderful husband. He was in such a good mood today. I don¡¯t think I''ve ever seen him this happy. At least not since his first son died in an accident. His first wife Clara died in childbirth, the poor woman. I saw a picture of her once and she was beautiful. It was very sad that she had died, but I gained from her misfortune. It does make me feel bad, but only a little. I never knew the woman. Edward¡¯s son Matthew was raised by nannies until he decided to marry again. I met him at the New Year''s Eve ball in 1884, We were married within months and I took over caring for Matthew. He didn¡¯t need much looking after. He was nearly grown. A lad of fifteen he was. His father had started him working at the mill. Two years later he died when a load of lumber came loose and crushed him to death. Edward was inconsolable no matter what I tried. He decided to build the grandest house in all of Detroit and started work on it right away. I rarely saw him the first year after Matthew¡¯s death. I mourned for the boy and the loss of my husband, but slowly he came around again. He threw himself into constructing this house. He wanted a home for his family. He lost his only son, but he had a young wife at home, me, and we wanted children together. We¡¯ve tried to have children unsuccessfully until now. I¡¯m going to have our first child together in our new home. In our home.


    She made it a few pages before she leaned over the desk and fell asleep

 Chapter 6

    A beam of golden light shone through the windows and bathed Vic in it. The sun warmed her back as she slept leaning over the desk. She stirred and then woke. Drool pooled at the corner of her mouth and she wiped it away with her hand. She sat up and complained about a kink in her back. She stretched and then checked the time. 7:20 am. She stood, walked out of the room, and headed for the breakfast room. She figured that since she was up she might as well get breakfast and the morning routine started. It was the least she could do considering that she¡¯d scared the bejesus out of Michael and Megan.


    She grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water from the tap in the pantry and then set the coffee maker to brew. She then took the pantry stairs down to the kitchen. She rooted around in the pantry for a pancake mix and grabbed eggs and bacon from the cold storage. She set about mixing the pancake mix and cooking them on a griddle. The bacon went into a pan. Twenty minutes later all the pancakes were done, kept warm in the oven. The bacon followed it and she scrambled all the eggs. Once the eggs were done she put them in a covered bowl and put everything on a tray. She took it to the dumbwaiter in the pantry and placed it inside.


    She climbed the stairs to the room above and then called the dumbwaiter up. She retrieved the tray and carried it to the breakfast room. Michael entered as Vic was getting everything ready.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Coffee and breakfast,¡± She started the tea kettle. ¡°I woke early and thought I¡¯d get breakfast ready.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to,¡± Michael grabbed a clean mug and poured himself some coffee.


    ¡°I know, but I did. Enjoy it.¡± She made herself a plate and sat down to eat. ¡°Oh, I found the diary last night.¡±


    Michael put his mug on the table opposite her and made his plate of food. ¡°I was going to show that to you yesterday. It slipped my mind after the police.¡±


    They were chatting about the diary when Martha ushered Liam and William in.


    ¡°Oh boy, pancakes!¡± They said in unison climbing into their chairs.


    Martha said good morning to them and got the boys their food.


    ¡°What¡¯s on the agenda for today?¡± Vic took a bite of her eggs.


    Michael was in the middle of telling her about the continued work of removing the broken plaster. In a few days, they would start putting up sheetrock. Megan entered the room and was surprised that they were all there and that breakfast had been made.


    ¡°Who did this?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Guilty as charged,¡± Vic raised her hand.


    ¡°You? You didn¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    ¡°I know, I was up,¡± Vic said.


    ¡°It¡¯s very much appreciated. Thank you!¡± Megan poured her coffee, grabbed her food, and sat down next to Michael.


    Vic thought it was nice to just sit there with this family and be a part of it. She didn¡¯t get that a lot growing up since it was only she and her mom. They talked while they ate, going over the day''s plans.


    After breakfast, the boys were seen off to school with Martha, Michael retreated into the construction zone beyond the plastic sheeting and she and Megan went into the dining room that served as their office. They went over the inventory of all furniture and pieces in the house. Megan suggested that before they go to the store to look for specific pieces they should check the store rooms first.


    The women crossed the bare great hall, entered the servants'' stairs, and took them up to the third floor. They exited into the plain servants¡¯ quarter. A brown threadbare carpet filled the hall. The walls were white and dirty, and the light fixtures were plain. They walked down the hall to the door that separated the servants¡¯ quarter from the other hall.


    This hall had once had a lush green carpet with vines depicted on it. It was in better shape than the rest. This floor, outside of the servants¡¯ quarters, must have not seen much traffic. The wallpaper was once a bright blue, with flowers and vines on it. Now it was faded and peeling. The ceiling had a large water stain on it that occurred sometime before the roof was replaced.


    Megan and Vic walked down the hall to the storeroom and went inside. It was a large room with three large windows overlooking the back garden. There were boxes stacked on boxes, old furniture draped in sheets, paintings, a pair of old crutches, a doctor¡¯s bag, mirrors, trunks, a girl''s dollhouse, a dress form, and many other things. The room was filled to the brim. Right away Vic found a chandelier that was original to the house.


    ¡°This looks like it only needs to be rewired,¡± Vic held it up. The chandelier had brass arms, intricately adorned with delicate filigree. Crystal pendants dangled from every curve, and cascading from the center a profusion of crystal beads formed a delicate curtain.


    ¡°And a little polish,¡± Megan added.


    They started making a pile of things near the door. Megan found a few more chandeliers and the missing wall sconces. Some of them were missing the glass fixture, which they could replace. Megan began going through boxes, and Vic grabbed trim from a pile near one of the walls. The women chatted while they meticulously went through the things in the store room. Piled near the door were 3 chandeliers, trim, a wardrobe, 2 side tables, a writing desk, and a couple of bolts of vintage fabric that were in good shape. They ended up standing in front of a large mirror that looked like it had been hung over a mantel. Vic wiped the dust off it as they both gazed into it. Between the reflection of the two women, a figure of a man was seen to walk by. Startled, they both turned. Nobody was there.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Megan called.


    There was nobody there. Megan rushed to the door to look into the hall, Vic on her heels.


    ¡°Is there anybody up here?¡± Megan called again. A twinge of apprehension in her voice.


    Nobody called back.


    ¡°Did you see what I saw?¡± Vic asked her.


    ¡°A man who walked behind us.¡± Megan¡¯s eyes were wide and she rubbed her arms. ¡°He must have been one of the workmen. I bet Michael sent him up here for something.¡±


    It couldn¡¯t have been one of the workmen, Vic thought. There was no possible way anybody could have disappeared that fast, and they hadn¡¯t heard a sound. No footsteps, no bumping into things, no creaks on the floor.


    She told Megan this and then said, ¡° It could have been a bird or a bat that flew by and just looked like a man. They¡¯re fast. They could¡¯ve gotten out of view that fast.¡±


    She didn¡¯t think Megan believed that. She didn¡¯t believe it and she didn¡¯t want to believe what she thought it was. Because that didn¡¯t exist. They hurriedly grabbed what they could because neither of them wanted to be up there anymore. Vic grabbed a chandelier, and Megan grabbed two of the smaller ones, and they made their way down the main stairs.


    The stairwell to the second floor was across from the storeroom and it came out on the second floor, where they took the grand stairs down to the main level. The sounds of sawing and electric drills, on top of hammering, could be heard. Megan strode into the dining room and set her Chandeliers on the table, Vic did the same.


    Megan stalked off in search of Michael, concerned Vic trailed after her.


    ¡°Michael,¡± she called.


    She had to repeat it a few times before he heard her and came out to the great hall.


    ¡°Did you send anybody up to the storeroom on the third floor?¡± She was attempting to be composed.


    ¡°No, why,¡± He asked, puzzled.


    ¡°We were startled by a man who shouldn¡¯t have been there,¡± Megan said.


    ¡°Who was he? Did he give his name, or that he worked here?¡± Michael was becoming concerned.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand,¡± Megan¡¯s voice got higher. ¡°He disappeared. We saw him walk behind us when we were looking in a mirror and when we turned, he was gone.¡± She was shaking now, all composure gone. ¡°Michael, I need to know if one of the workmen was up there with us.¡±


    Michael put his hands on either side of Megan''s shoulders.


    Vic stood by watching her overreaction to something that probably had a mundane explanation. It was creepy when it happened, but she was sure it was innocuous.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t send anybody up there if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking, but I can go ask the guys and see if anybody went up to take a little tour if it will make you feel better.¡± He said, running his hands down her arms.


    Megan was trying hard to hold back tears. Michael embraced her and kissed her on the forehead.


    ¡°Come, I want you to sit down,¡± and he led her into the library and sat her in a chair.


    Vic followed behind and sat in a chair near Megan.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was nothing. A figment of our imagination,¡± Vic said, trying to reassure her.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t. I know what I saw. There was a man in the room with us. You saw him too, but he just disappeared so fast.¡± Megan hugged herself with her arms.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I saw. It happened so fast that I can¡¯t be sure it even looked like a man. Our eyes play tricks on us all the time. Vic explained.


    They sat in silence for ten minutes before Michael returned. ¡°I¡¯ve talked to all the guys and nobody¡¯s been upstairs.¡± He stood, hands on his hips shrugging. ¡°Vic, can you tell me what happened in detail?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Vic explained that they saw the man pass behind them when looking in the mirror, startled they whirled around and saw nobody. He wasn¡¯t there, and it was impossible for somebody to move that fast. She mentioned that the clothing the man wore did not look modern, but old-fashioned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to say that it was a ghost, because I don¡¯t believe they exist, but I don¡¯t really have an explanation. I mean it could have been a bat, a bird, or something.¡± Vic said.


    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t any of the workmen. It was probably nothing. It was just your imagination.¡± He explained.


    Megan stood. ¡°Don¡¯t you tell me I saw nothing,¡± she shouted. ¡°I know what I saw. I saw a man walking behind us. A man who wasn¡¯t there when we looked. I called after him, but he must have run.¡±


    ¡°Calm down. You¡¯re overreacting,¡± He said, trying to placate her.


    Megan¡¯s face grew red hot, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare tell me to calm down! I am not overreacting. I just saw a strange man in our attic and could very well be the man who broke in and frightened Vic the other day. I can¡¯t believe you have no concern for our safety,¡± She stormed out of the room.


    Vic mouthed, ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    Michael ran his hand through his hair and let out a long sigh.


    ¡°Why is she overreacting this much?¡±


    ¡°When she was a girl, her brother, and cousins convinced her that ghosts were real and locked her in their grandparent''s creepy old basement and left her there for hours before her mother found her. She was completely terrified and claimed that ghosts had come and tormented her. She couldn¡¯t sleep without nightmares for months and had to go to therapy. The boys were grounded, but there wasn¡¯t much else they could do about it. She came out of it with a staunch disbelief in the supernatural and it really bothers her when anybody talks about ghosts or anything like that. She says she hasn¡¯t had any of the nightmares since she was a kid, but at times like these, I wonder.¡± Michael slumped down into a chair and put his face in his hands.


    ¡°Does this happen a lot? Overreacting about things.¡± Vic questioned.


    ¡°Not often. There have been some incidents at some of the older homes we¡¯ve flipped. Things that we couldn¡¯t explain that freaked her out. She keeps saying she doesn¡¯t believe in ghosts, but she won¡¯t talk about it. She gets all ramped up and angry about it and then she storms off. I think something really did happen to her in her grandma¡¯s basement and the therapist convinced her it wasn¡¯t real. I think what happened to her was so bad that it still terrifies her to this day and anything unexplained reminds her of it.¡± He sighed heavily and sat back, looking straight up at the ceiling before looking at Vic. ¡°I just want to protect her. I love her, but it breaks my heart when she¡¯s scared of something I can¡¯t fix. Tell me again what you saw.¡±


    Vic recounted the incident again and they both came to the conclusion that it had to have been a ghost, even though Vic herself didn¡¯t believe in them. She was starting to wonder.


    ~


    Vic had not seen Megan for the rest of the afternoon. Not even after Martha brought the boys home and gave them a snack. They came to see Vic and tell her all about their day. Liam said they had popcorn during storytime and they did some songs and dances and then they colored. William was in first grade and he said they had to do their own reading. The teacher didn¡¯t read to them, they read to the teacher. The boys then ran off out into the hall to find their mother. Martha trailed after them. She worked until she looked at her phone and saw that it was 5:20. Certainly past quitting time and texted her friend.


    {Hey Allie, Do you want to get together for dinner and drinks?}


    She watched the three dots indicating that Allie was texting back.


    {Sure, where and when?}


    {How about The ¡°D¡± In about 20?¡±}


    {See u there}


    Vic went upstairs to change into something a little hipper, grabbed her purse, and jacket, and then left the house. She drove toward downtown and was lucky to find a parking spot only two blocks from The ¡°D¡±. It was a cocktail lounge/ restaurant that opened last year. It was located in a brick building. The inside was decorated in a 1920s Hollywood glam, art deco style. There was a black and white, funky motif on the floor. Square lampshades hung from the ceiling, and black tables with red chairs sat below them. The wallpaper was black with gold fans on it. Speakers piped out Swing music and the place was a tad bit crowded at this time.


    Vic found a table and waited for her friend Allie. In the meantime, she ordered a Sidecar, an appetizer, and then waited. A few minutes later she saw her friend heading for her. She had long pink hair, big sunglasses perched on her head, and wore a short white fur coat with a pink blouse, black miniskirt, sheer black leggings, and high heels. She had a bag with a long strap hanging from one shoulder. She came over in a whirl, plunked her bag onto a chair, and plopped herself down across from Vic.


    ¡°You look exhausted. What were you up to today?¡± Vic smiled at her.


    ¡°Oh, the usual, cutting the hair of middle-aged, entitled, white ladies.¡± She shrugged her coat off.


    Vic laughed, ¡°Do they at least tip you well?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not, those cows!¡± They both laughed.


    A waiter brought Vic''s drink and appetizer, Took Allie¡¯s order, and left.


    Allie grabbed some of the crostini off the plate and ate it.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re holed up in that creepy condemned mansion with some guy.¡± She stuffed her face with another piece of crostini.


    ¡°It¡¯s not condemned and it¡¯s not some guy, He¡¯s my boss Michael and he has a wife you know, and kids.¡± She reached for the appetizer.


    ¡°So, is he cute?¡± Ally prodded.


    ¡°If you must know, yes, he¡¯s gorgeous.¡± Vic took a bite.


    ¡°Are you going to fuck?¡± Ally asked, smiling.


    ¡°What? No! I told you he was married.¡± Vic said, her cheeks warm.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anything. If he wasn¡¯t married would you fuck him?¡± Allie was enjoying messing with Vic.


    Vic didn¡¯t say anything. She grabbed her drink and drank slowly, keeping her glass to her face longer than usual.


    ¡°You would, wouldn¡¯t you? I can tell by how you¡¯re avoiding answering my question.¡± Allie was smiling a huge smile.


    Vic set her glass down. ¡°Keep your voice down, would you?¡± She looked around to see if anybody was looking at them. ¡°If he was single I¡¯d consider it.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s stopping you?¡± Allie prodded.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, He¡¯s married with kids, and I wouldn¡¯t do that to Megan. Don¡¯t you even remember how I felt after I found out that Derek cheated on me? I cried for weeks.¡±


    The waiter returned with Allie¡¯s drink and then they both ordered a meal. Vic ordered the street tacos, and Allie ordered the pasta.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let her find out and she¡¯ll be fine.¡± Allie sipped her Long Island iced tea.


    ¡°Allie!¡± Vic shouted.


    Allie smiled, ¡°Alright, alright.¡± She put her hands in the air. ¡°I¡¯ll stop being a troublemaker.¡±


    Vic started telling Allie the details about the house. The renovations that needed to be done, the history that accompanied it. How not only did Edward Charles die, but his children died young too. She talked about how excited she was to be working on this project.


    ¡°Why did she live in the house until she died, if all her family was gone?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Maybe she felt closer to her family there.¡± Vic finished her drink, the ice cubes rattled in the bottom of the glass.


    Vic gestured to a waiter.


    ¡°How are you getting along with them? Are they nice?¡± Allie crunched on an ice cube.


    ¡°They¡¯re great. I like Michael, he gets really enthused about the houses he works on. I think he¡¯s in love with this house and I can¡¯t blame him. It¡¯s a great house. Once you look past the creepiness and odd things.¡±


    The waiter arrived, took her order for a new drink, and hustled off.


    ¡°What do you mean creepy?¡± She leaned back, stirring her drink with the little straw.


    Vic told her about seeing the man in the mirror how he just vanished and Megan''s overreaction to it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s some reasonable explanation for it, but I don¡¯t know what it is.¡± She said.


    ¡°Are you kidding me!?¡± Allie exclaimed, ¡°That was a ghost! A house with that many people who died in it is for sure haunted.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s been some other weird things.¡± Allie looked at her to go on. ¡°I haven¡¯t given much thought to any of this, especially since they¡¯re probably normal occurrences. But I¡¯ve been smelling roses. At first, I thought it was perfume Megan was wearing, but I always smell it after she has left the room, but I don¡¯t smell it when I¡¯m with her.¡±


    The Waiter came and set down Vic¡¯s drink and took another order from Allie. Vic continued to tell Allie about the small things. The whispering she heard during the storm one night, but that was the wind. She told her about seeing the impossibly long hallway, but that was most likely due to being drunk. She has felt like she was being watched on several occasions, and the other night an intruder, or someone was in the basement and chased her to the kitchen where she held the door shut until they went away. About how all the lights had gone out first and she was so scared. They¡¯d called the police, but they searched the house and didn¡¯t find anybody.


    ¡°I¡¯d get out of the house now If I were you. It sounds like it¡¯s nothing but trouble.¡± Allie said seriously.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really like that. I mean, yes¡­That incident was scary, but it¡¯s only because the house is old. When you think something is haunted it becomes haunted for you.¡± Vic explained.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to believe in ghosts or hauntings for them to exist,¡± Allie said.


    ¡°That¡¯s not all.¡± Vic bit her lip. ¡°I started sleepwalking again.¡±


    ¡°You what? Why didn¡¯t you tell me? For how long?¡± Allie sat up, concern showing on her face.


    ¡°A couple of days. I didn¡¯t want to worry you. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll stop again soon. It¡¯s just the stress of the job.¡± Vic said, trying to make it sound like it was nothing.


    ¡°Have you wandered outside?¡± Allie asked.


    ¡°Maybe, I don¡¯t know,¡± Vic said sheepishly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Allie replied perturbed.


    Vic told the other woman about sleepwalking into the basement, possibly getting dirty and scratched up in the garden, and clawing at her bedroom door.


    ¡°You need to go to the doctor right now. This isn¡¯t good for you. Have you forgotten everything you went through as a child?¡± Allie spoke.


    ¡°Of course, I haven¡¯t forgotten!¡± Vic said loudly. ¡°How could I forget sleepwalking for over a decade and the nightmares associated with it? Do you know I finally saw the man in black? Do you want to know who he is?¡± She lowered her voice.


    Allie was scared for Vic. She¡¯d been there with Vic when she¡¯d wake up screaming from the nightmares, being too afraid to go back to sleep. When she stayed the night she would crawl into Vic¡¯s bed and comfort her until she fell back asleep.


    ¡°Who?¡± Allie choked out in a whisper.


    ¡°Edward Charles,¡± Vic said. ¡°I¡¯ve been having the nightmares too. When I moved into that house I started having them again, but this time I got past the part where it always ended for me. When I finally saw his face, it was him.¡± She sighed heavily.


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s who he always was, or if he only took on his face since you are working in his house?¡±


    Tired Vic said, ¡°I don¡¯t know. I feel this weird connection and I have to figure out what it is.¡±


    ¡°That house is haunted, your sleepwalking and nightmares started up again, and there may have been, or is an intruder, and there are definitely ghosts. I think you should get the hell out and find another project.¡± Allie told her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t go. I want this. I want to study this house and make it beautiful again. I promise I¡¯ll go see the doctor. And ghosts aren¡¯t real.¡± She said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t really believe that now, do you? After everything you¡¯ve experienced?¡±


    The waiter brought their food out. Vic didn¡¯t answer her. She was starting to doubt herself. She always thought there was a scientific explanation for everything, but it was true that all these incidents didn¡¯t add up. And that reflection of the man in the mirror was the most unnerving of all if she didn¡¯t discount what happened to her in the basement. Maybe she¡¯s been overlooking things just so she can keep saying that ghosts aren¡¯t real. She should have a talk with Michael about it. Maybe he¡¯s experienced things too.


    The two women chatted about less serious matters after that and had a great time catching up. An hour later Vic hugged her friend and told her goodbye and that she would text her soon.