Display cases along the other wall held artifacts, and I walked over to check them. Candy wrappers littered the floor. I picked them up with a sigh, inwardly cursing the inconsiderate people who couldn’t be bothered to take the three steps over to the freaking trash can.
Some of the glass cases housed items from former residents of Redwood Manor, like the pocket watch that had belonged to Jasper Davies, a man who’d butchered his whole family along with their dinner guests. There was also a hairbrush that’d belonged to Elizabeth Shaw, a woman who had killed her two children in 1892.
Beside the brush was a sepia photo of her sitting in a chair, expression stern. I had trouble looking at her face. Pure evil showed through her eyes. What never failed to make my chest ache, though, was the photo beside hers of two children, a boy and a girl. The boy’s eyes were open but lifeless. William. The son she’d drowned.
“Dude, that’s creepy as fuck,” a voice came from behind me, and I turned to see Skyler. He motioned to the photo of William. “Why did they do that?”
“Postmortem photography?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well, deaths were incredibly frequent at this time, and photography wasn’t something everyone had easy access to. These were most common with children. Death portraits like this gave the families at least one photo of their loved one. To mourn. To remember.”
“Yeah, but didn’t she kill her kids? Kind of fucked-up she would get a photo of them like this. Like a sick memento of her evil deed.” Skyler stepped closer to the glass, bringing him closer tome. God. Why did he have to smell so good? “Elizabeth Shaw. She’s Lady Death, right? The ghost who haunts Redwood Manor as a sort of death omen? Jules and I read about her before coming here.”
“Y-Yeah.” I worked on taking even breaths. My insides were wobbly. “According to the legend, killing her children showed such wickedness that a death curse was placed on her. She then became an omen for people who were destined to meet their ends soon. Though, some say she’s less of an omen and more ofwhythey die.”
“Damn. We’re actually staying at Redwood.” Skyler breathed out a laugh. “I’ll cross my fingers I don’t see her.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh yeah?” His brow arched as a curve touched the side of his mouth. “Why’s that?”
“There’re rumors the mansion was cleansed on Halloween about two years ago,” I told him. “Nothing there now but the living.”
I believed the rumors. Having a ghost best friend didn’t make me an expert on the paranormal, but where I’d once gotten chills down my spine when seeing Redwood, I felt only peace now. Like the spirits once trapped there had been set free.
“You know a lot about this stuff, huh?” Skyler asked.
“Well, it’s kind of my job.”
He laughed, and the rasp of it spread through my chest cavity. “We have that in common. But Jules is the brain behind our gig. I just look pretty for the cameras.”
“I’m ashamed to say I haven’t watched your show. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His smile didn’t falter. “It’s kinda nice for someone to have no idea who I am.”
His soft expression as he stared at the items in the display case caused little flutters in my chest.
“No fucking way,” he said, becoming more alert. He tapped the glass. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Arthur Warren’s journal,” I told him. The leather book was worn around the edges, the pages faded and discolored. A thin strap wrapped around the book to secure it. “Where he brainstormed the experiments for Lockton, among other things.”
Some of the pages had been scanned and the copies hung above the glass case, showing drawings of what looked like medieval torture devices. One was a type of box that went over a person’s head, and another showed a skull with the front lobe of the brain circled. A drawing of a drill was beside it.
“See that one?” I pointed to the drawing of the box. “It’s said that he first tested it on his wife. If true, it makes sense why she left him the way she did.”
“I just got chills.” Skyler shuddered. “This Warren guy was more fucked-up than I thought.”
“He was only the beginning,” I said. “After Warren’s death, a man named Samuel Howard found the journal and treated it like a damn bible. He turned a lot of these ideas into reality.”
“Sky?” The curtain ruffled before Julian stepped into the room. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Skyler said before looking back at me. “Oh. Val said she’d arrange a tour of Lockton for us tomorrow. Just to show us around and tell us the most active spots on the property. You up for it?”
“Up for it?”
“To be our guide.” That crooked smile returned to his lips. “I kinda requested you.”
“W-Why?”
“You seem to know a lot about the asylum,” he answered. “And I like your vibe.”