Page 64 of Living with Death

“Many people don’t,” I say. “It’s a thing of the past, forgotten and left for Mother Nature to devour.”

“What a thing to forget,” she replies.

I take us down onto the stone, tucking my wings before making them disappear as Mabel lets go of my neck. I miss her touch instantly. The torches placed around the walls ignite in flame.

Mabel grins and shakes her head. “Amazing.”

“A man by the name of Francis Rondurk had this built for his lover, Lily Sanfron. She was carrying his child, and he wanted a place for her and the child to live.

“His wife was unaware of the affair at first, but once she found out, she visited the manor. Rumor is, she fell to her knees and cried when she laid eyes on it, finding it more beautiful than the one he built for her and their children.”

Mabel listens intently, soaking up everything I'm saying.

“In jealousy and rage, she tried to murder Lily. Luckily, Francis had her followed and stopped her. He had her hanged for attempted murder. He then married Lily, and they shared a beautiful life.”

“I'm not sure I like that story.”

I lift a brow. “Not a fan of adultery?”

“No. When you commit to someone, you should stay true to that.” She moves forward, looking up at the manor walls. Stone steps wind upward to its door. A tree filled with leaves the color of red and yellow hangs over the broad stairs.

“I'm glad we agree on that,” I murmur. Because I want you to be my wife, and I would never be untrue to you. I would end every life if it meant we could be together.

“Is it safe?” she says.

No. It's not safe to be with me. Darkness surrounds me always. He created me to fulfill a duty, and that will never change. You may grow weary and uninterested and wish to have nothing to do with me, but I am selfish, and want you forever.

“Its walls are secure.” She nods and takes the steps up. I follow her, and as she nears the enormous doors, she studies the plants surrounding the manor.

“Mums and different types of fall flowers are in bloom. You will see pinks, blues, violets, and yellows in spring. He planted every kind of flower she desired. Said he wanted her always to be able to look upon beauty just as he could.”

She scoffs. “Kinda cringe, don't you think?”

I laugh out loud. “Some would call that romantic.”

“Eh,” she says. “There is such thing as overdoing it.”

I lift my chin. “Noted.”

She smiles, walking over to me. “How do you know about this place?”

“I was interested in their story after I took the wife's soul. I watched them for a while. They loved each other. After they passed, no one else came here, and eventually, it grew up so much that no one knew it was even back here. I would sometimes come here and watch the sunset, just like at Lover’s Light.”

She bites her lip. “Well, I'd like to see the inside.” She takes a step toward the door.

“Hey, Mabel.”

She looks back at me with a lifted brow.

“You'll let me know if I overdo it.”

She grins. “Yes, Az. I'll be sure to let you know.”

I wink at her before she turns, pushing the door open. The old thing creaks loudly, echoing through the home's bottom floor.

I watch as she moves past the dark foyer. A rat scurries back into the walls. I look at the several wrought iron crystal chandeliers, and flames ignite on forgotten, dusty candle sticks, illuminating the vast space.

She observes the ceiling. Cracks appear in the molding, once a pale white, now yellowed. In the center is a painting of an angel with smaller ones around him, the sky a wispy baby blue. “How old is it?” she asks, her eyes wide and wandering. The candles light her face in warm gold.

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