Page 59 of Maximum Dare
With this in mind, I strolled through the abandoned house renowned as one of the most haunted mansions in London. A strange way to spend a Friday evening, walking in my highly polished brogues down deserted hallways that had scuffed floors and paint flaking off their walls. This run-down Victorian residence was a faded beauty, but it had clearly not been forgotten. Apparently, the Dare Club directors had rented the property for their crazy escapades.
What was meant to be a hot spot for ghost hunters was conveniently situated next to Highgate cemetery. Tours would no doubt go from one location to the other, with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of the afterlife in a shadowy figure that could be anything, really. Nevertheless, their photos would go viral as alleged proof that once we’ve shed our body our spirits live on for an eternity.
What a load of bollocks—as the English would say.
Somewhere within these rooms, Daisy had hunkered down for a night of being haunted to fulfill the demands of her next dare. I was surprised she was still in the club after the dumpster fire of last Tuesday when she’d almost drowned in my mother’s pool.
Daisy had posted this place on her Instagram page, surreptitiously leading me here with that photo of the red door belonging to the house at 7 Makepeace Avenue.
I carried with me her freshly dry-cleaned skirt and blouse and her high-heeled pumps—retrieved from the bottom of the swimming pool. It was my peace offering and a pretty good excuse to see her again, the thought of which caused my heart to start behaving like a jackhammer.
No, I’m just reacting to this environment,I told myself.It’s the possible threat of discarnate spirits that’s creeping me out.
I walked around a corner and saw a blur of movement. I let out a high-pitched scream, shattering the quiet.
It was Daisy, looking up at me in shock.
I leaned against the wall to recover, raising my hand to let her know I needed a second to remember how to breathe.
“Max?”
“Hey.” I straightened and tried to pretend I hadn’t just screamed like a girl.
She’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and an oversized sweater. Her coat rested on a blanket in the corner. There was something earthy about the way her hair was pulled casually back in a ponytail. With no makeup, she looked bewitchingly natural. It took my mind off the fact I’d almost been spooked to death.
“Are you just going to stand there staring at me?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
She didn’t look convinced. “How did you know I’d be here?”
Instead of answering her question, I held up the dry-cleaning bag and the shoebox. “I have these for you.”
I could have left them with her aunt. I hoped she’d not see through my ruse and mention it. When it came to her, I was crap at faking I didn’t care.
She recognized her clothes. “Keep them.”
“I was going to burn them but was scared I’d scorch off my eyebrows.” I followed that up with a smile.
She stared at me suspiciously. “Have you come to warn me not to turn up at one of your events again?” She wagged a finger. “You’ve wasted your time. I’m over the Banhams.”
“I’m a Marquis.”
“I meant your entire family.”
“I’m here to make sure you’re not too traumatized.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
“Really, what?”
“I’m kind of busy.”
I looked around. “Ghost hunting?”
“No, the whole point is waiting for them to come to you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. “I’ve never been more ready.”
“Okay, well, I’ll just leave these over here.” I hung the dry-cleaning on an old picture hook and set the shoebox down on the floor beneath it. I glanced around with disapproval. “This place is pretty rundown, Daisy. I don’t think you should stay.”
