Oops.
They had actual footage of subjects recounting their supernatural experiences! Of course, sheneededto watch them. Alas, it was way too early to give herself away. She needed to be patient. Slipping back into character, she said, “Referencing previous caretakers could create a sense of continuity. Might be interesting for the show.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” Stephen answered. “But your primary objective will be to live in the house for thirty days. You are free to quit anytime. We will not stop you. We will not attempt to convince you to stay. The shoot and you residing within Hennessee House are and always will be completely voluntary.”
“So, what’s Hennessee House’s story? Did someone die there? Did a lot of people die there?” she asked.
Thanks to a contact within NQP she already knew the answer but figured it would seem strange if she didn’t bring it up. Asking also provided her an opportunity to pretend to be surprised.
Xander answered, “Not that I know of.”
“Former cemetery?”
“Not that I know of. However, it is the last Victorian house inthe area. All the others were torn down and a gated community was built around it. My family refused to sell to the developers.”
“Good. I’m honestly not a fan of ghosts. What about séances? Headquarters for a top secret supernatural cult? Those were prolific in the early 1900s.”
“There’s no record of that. Public or that I know of.”
“Built on a veil? Portal to the other side in the basement? Attic?”
He considered his answer. “If there is, I haven’t found it.”
Lucky skillfully pretended to hide the frustration in her voice. “Okay…so what’s the deal? Just general spooky business? What kind of a haunting is it?”
“The best way to describe it is that Hennessee House has a personality, and it isn’t always friendly.”
“Is that the show’s angle? A haunted house, not sane and unfriendly?”
Stephen looked impressed. The fact that he’d most likely picked up on her reference was a sign she was absolutely in the right place. Her plan would work.
Xander said, “The only angle is the human one.”
Castor, who had noticeably remained silent for some time, said, “I must say, I’m curious. Do you really believe in ghosts, Ms. Hart?”
“As the great Winston Zeddemore once said, ‘If there’s a steady paycheck in it, I’ll believe anything you say.’ ” She smiled at him. “Mainly, I believe ghosts don’t need us to believe in them to be real, so anything is possible. And please, call me Lucky.”
2
Hennessee House stuck out like a Victorian sore thumb trapped in suburbia.
It was three stories including the attic, painted dark brown with cream trim, and had a startling number of windows and a short but wide set of stairs that led up to the front door. Most of the cul-de-sac sidewalk framed the expansive front gate, which blocked the entrance to the half-circle driveway.
Up close it loomed much larger than Lucky thought it should. She’d known it was the biggest house on the block by far, but taking in its perfectly green grass, expertly trimmed hedges, and blooming red rose bushes felt strangely intimidating. A quickening in the pit of her stomach warned her to leave while simultaneously daring her to enter.
“Relax.” She made the command through gritted teeth, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel for dear life. Her sense of self-preservation was too damn strong. More than once she’d ended up fist-fighting it in abandoned mines and the like.Ignoring her gut often came at her own peril. But Hennessee House would be worth the risk. Eventually.
The truth was Lucky didn’t get into her graduate school of choice. Twice. It was small, exclusive, and the only accredited program specializing in parapsychology in theentirecountry. One school. One program. Zero slots.
To make her lifelong dream of legitimizing the supernatural come true, she’d been forced to take matters into her own hands. Two years of self-funded investigations—everything ranging from harmless interviews to dangerous overnight expeditions—making acquaintances, establishing trusted contacts, and getting her name out there within the community had all led to this moment.
Lucky had given up the security of her day job as a nanny to become…a reality TV actress. In her defense, it seemed like a great plan when she mapped it out in her journal.
Her phone chimed in the front pocket of her purse—a new number with the correct area code appeared on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Lucky?”
