Page 5 of Cordelia Manor
“I’m not sure, Cary,” she said, sounding concerned. “But he left hours ago. If he intended on going back to the manor, I’m guessing he’d have been there a while ago.”
“This day just keeps getting better. Okay, thanks, Amelia. I think I can scry for him just to make sure he’s safe. Then I’m going to go to bed. Gods help me, I’m worn out.”
Amelia only hummed in understanding, and after we hung up, I went to the Lexus and crawled into the back seat where the owner sat as I drove him to the manor and then the hospital. I closed my eyes and began to chant in the nonsensical way my grandmother had taught me years ago. “For scrying, it’s less important what you say, just that you say something to enable your mind to relax and the images to come,” she’d told me.
As I chanted, the image of Batterman’s Motel came to mind. I smiled. The place was recently bought by two young women from Seattle and turned into The Pink Palace. They served champagne instead of coffee, hosted major girlfriend parties, and had fluffed the whole place up. At least our twink would be in good hands there, so there was no need to worry.
I leaned back in the seat, feeling relieved. Then my mind whipped to the attack. The entity faced me, scowling, as pure hatred flowed from him. “Why do you hate this man so much?” I asked, without thinking.
The entity’s image opened his mouth to say something, and then paled and vanished. I guessed that was proof the spell had worked. We’d negated the energy he and the other spirits had. Not that it would last long. But the moon was waning, and with it, the energies took longer to gather their strength. That was in my best interest, at least. Not that it’d help since I couldn’t imagine I’d be able to clear all the spirits before the next full moon, not when they were as visceral as they were tonight.
Oh well, at least the poor twink wouldn’t get attacked again anytime soon. Although I was sure he’d get an eyeful before it was all said and done. The spirits might not have the energy to attack him, but that didn’t mean they’d stay hidden.
5
Evan
Images of people dancingin nineteen twenties clothes infiltrated my dreams all night. I knew they were from the twenties because my grandmother had harbored a not-so-secret crush on actor Leonardo DiCaprio and forced Dad and me to watchThe Great Gatsbyway too many times.
The dreams were mostly surreal. But my attention kept being drawn back to one man over and over. In fact, his was the only face I could make out. He had sharp angular features and wore his dark brown hair slicked back.
He was attractive, in a harsh way—not my type. Had he been wearing modern clothes, he’d probably look less severe.
I could feel a pull. Like he was a magnet, and I was drawn to him. When I woke the next morning, my head was still pounding, and the memory of the dream wasn’t helping things much.
I found the painkillers the hospital had sent home with me and downed one as prescribed. After the pounding stopped, I called the attorney.
Mr. James was apologetic, saying he was sorry he hadn’t been there to pick me up. When he asked about what I thought of the manor, I lied and told him I slipped and fell on the steps, and that was why I’d ended up at the hospital, then the hotel. I knew something had hit me, though, something my battered brain was now remembering as a misty presence.
I laughed at how our brains could make shit up. I guessed I liked the haunted house shows a bit too much and this was the meaning for the new interpretation. In reality, I was probably hit by something hanging in the doorway that had come loose when I tried to enter. The place was my home now, so there was no need to get others involved in what could end up being a future insurance claim.
I’d need to go see what had hit me and, possibly, get it fixed while I tried to figure out what to do with the massive estate I’d inherited. Despite the concussion, I’d already decided the manor wasn’t for me. Not really. I was a simple man who loved simple things. There was no real room in my life for that kind of property.
Still, I wanted to walk through it, get a feel for it and hopefully, understand what’d happened all those years ago. The mystery was alluring, as well as frustrating. The place represented all the bad that’d happened to my family over the past century, but now it also represented my future.
When Mr. James pulled up at the hotel, he greeted me with a smile. He was middle-aged, I assumed about fifty. Unlike the man who’d picked me up yesterday, Mr. James never stopped talking from the moment I met him, not even when he pulled into the manor’s driveway.
My head was pounding again when we reached the estate, and I was counting the seconds until I was once again left alone without the attorney’s chatter.
As we passed the cute cottage next to the lake and swans, I asked who owned it.
“Why, you do, of course, but Mr. Beacroft occupies it. The man you met yesterday. Mr. Beacroft is the caretaker of the estate. He still works for Hallock Hotels, even though their lease on the manor has run out. They’ve got an agreement with the state that he continue overseeing the place until the new owner arrives, and here you are.”
“Oh,” I said, refocusing on the question I’d wanted to ask him, but had forgotten with all his chatter and the accompanying headache. “What was the lease agreement between Hallock and the state? I might be interested in renewing it.”
Mr. James laughed. “Unlikely, the hotel chain had a fifty-year contract with the state. If you want my opinion, that’s why they so readily agreed to give the estate back to you. Hallock had taken on the hotel’s renovations in exchange for a yearly lease of one dollar.”
“Oh, well, no then. I already know I’m not interested in running a place like this. Not on my own.”
“I anticipated that, son,” he said, and smiled. This time there was no small amount of greed showing through. “I can present you with your options. My office is already preparing those for you, but why don’t you spend some time on the property, get to know it, and we’ll discuss them next week.”
“Next week?” I asked, perplexed as to why he would put me off.
“Yes, unfortunately, I have a case that’s gone sideways, and I’m going to have to drop you here, then rush back to Salem. I doubt I’ll be back in the area until the middle of next week at the soonest.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, okay, that should be fine.”
I reached up and rubbed my temples. The headache was beginning to get fierce. I pulled my meds out again and readthat I had to wait four hours between doses, which meant I had another two hours.Dammit, I thought to myself.
