Page 6 of The Silence of Hell

Lavender

That heathen! He’d been so nice to me before turning into a raging lunatic. I couldn’t believe he’d beheaded and shot Marybelle. Clearly, the fool had seen too many Chucky films. My door opened, and a doctor entered.

“How are you feeling, Miss Bloodsworth?” he asked.

“Better, the pain relief has killed the headache. My ribs are sore but as you said, not broken. Can I go home, Doc?”

“You stated you lived alone. I’d prefer you to stay in overnight, and then you can go home in the morning. You do have a severe concussion,” he replied.

“Okay. It’s fine. Thank you.”

“By the way, what an unusual surname!”

“It is, I’m rather fond of it,” I agreed, smiling.

“Yes, I understand why. It is fantastic!”

“Most people make vampire comments.”

“That is highly understandable.” The doctor smiled and then said goodbye.

“Oh, Doc, if you only knew where I lived!” I murmured as the door shut. “You’d be fascinated.”

I closed my eyes and tried not to think of that horrible man ripping Marybelle’s head off. Such wickedness!

???

I drove up the gates of Ravenberry Manor, and a smile broke out across my face. Twenty years ago, I’d run free through the estate, but then my parents had their stupid falling out.

I climbed out of the car, unlocked the padlock, and pushed them open. They took some effort, but I finally got them shoved back. The wrought-iron gates needed a good clean and some restoration work.

I drove up the lane in which the trees had overgrown and cut all sunlight out. The road was bumpy, with a lot of potholes.

Renew road surface, trim trees, clean gates: three things already on my list.

As the drive curved, I got a full look at the Manor. Anyone else would have run screaming for the hills. Ravenberry resembled a haunted house. Built in a gothic style and over four hundred years old, it would have been perfect on film as a murder home or haunted residence.

The windows were boarded-up, several window ledges sagged, there was debris everywhere, and it needed a damn good paint job. Luckily, the roof looked intact, and I didn’t believe I had to worry about damp. Most of the first two floors’ windows were boarded. The third floor was shuttered, but I could see curtains flapping around, and the dreaded damp raised its ugly head.

The tower, with its widow’s walk, seemed crooked and sinister. Despite the sunshine, Ravenberry screamed ‘go away’!

Not freaking likely. I’d inherited this estate and the money to repair and restore it.

The grounds didn’t look any better, I noted as I drove around to the side and winced at the wildness present. In Aunt Agatha’s time, they’d been glorious. Now, they were out of control and ugly. The swimming pool, built in the nineteen-twenties under a glass house, was stagnant, and I could see lots of broken glass panes. The water’s contents filled me with dread.

The well held an ugly cover, and the porch sagged. Much like its facade, the rear of the manor revealed a similar level of neglect and disrepair.

Funnily enough, I was surprised at how damn big it was. As a child, I would run through those hallways and never paid attention. Now awed by the sheer size of it. It was immense. I dragged up the details I remembered: twenty-five bedrooms, at least two dining rooms, a music room, ballroom, kitchen, and servants’ quarters.

I’d play hide and seek with the maids in the pantries and utility rooms. There was the display and China room, two drawing rooms, and plenty of other rooms. I did, however, remember the library fondly. I’d loved being there. Leaving the rental car where it was, I headed for the front of the house and inserted the key.

After wrestling with the lock, I put my shoulder to the door and pushed it open. I entered the one place I’d always thought of as home and paused.

Well, now, I hadn’t expected that!

Chapter Two.

Chatter – two weeks later.

---