The Curse of Redwood (Ivy Grove #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,30
or had he just been a figment of my imagination?
The book gave me no answers.
Charlie Michaels had put together every known resident of the mansion—stopping after the dinner party massacre—and had recounted their deaths in elaborate detail. He’d probably been granted access to the police reports. Michaels had died before he’d been able to do anything with the book he’d worked so hard on.
I sighed and slumped back in the chair, pushing the book away from me. That’s when I saw it: a folded edge of a loose piece of paper barely poking out from the back of the book. I pulled it out and opened it, seeing writing at the top.
Most of the spirits are accounted for. But who is the woman in the black gown? She terrifies me.
Michaels had seen the ghosts. Was that the purpose of this book? He was a writer, after all. Had he intended to publish his findings, to make money off the misfortune of others? More questions and not enough answers. I re-read the line about the woman. Like Ben, Michaels had seen Lady Death.
Would I eventually see her too?
By the time I left the library, clouds had rolled in and thunder rumbled in the distance. It felt like a sign from the universe to keep me away from the mansion. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I fished it out.
“Hello?”
“Hey, C,” Rich said. “You busy tonight? Taylor’s hangin’ with me, and we wanted you to come chill with us.”
Sign number two to stay away.
“Sounds good,” I answered, staring up at the dark sky as I walked through the parking lot toward my car. “I’ll be over soon.”
Redwood would have to wait.
Chapter Seven
The next day, I peeked through the patio doors at the back of the mansion and lightly tapped the glass. “Hello? Anyone home?”
Taking Z’s advice from my last visit, I had gone to Redwood during the day. But even as the sun shone above me, I still had to battle the chill in my bones from staring into the shadows of the house, searching for any signs of movement.
Were all the ghosts I’d seen last time staring at me? Were they reaching out toward me with their bony, dead fingers?
A hand clamped down on my arm from behind.
I screeched and accidentally banged my head on the glass in my surprise. I spun on my heels to see Z. He appeared so different in the sunlight. The rays went right through him, and his silvery blond hair appeared even paler. Still, he was beautiful… even if he looked pissed.
“You scared me,” I said, rubbing at my sore forehead.
“Good.” He glared at me. “I thought you had learned your lesson and decided to stay away from this place, but I can see I was a fool to think such a thing.”
“Why don’t you want me here?”
“I told you before, this is no place for you.” Z closed the gap between us in a single stride.
“Because of the curse?”
“Why must you be so inquisitive?” he asked, annoyed. “Other people are smart enough to steer clear of this property, yet here you are coming back again and again, even after seeing the horrors this mansion holds.”
“I like a good mystery,” I said, then I looked around. “What are you doing outside?”
“I was sitting in the garden.” His face fell. “Well, what used to be the garden. The flowers are dead now, just like everything else in this godforsaken place.”
“I could help you fix it up,” I suggested, smiling at the bizarre thought of us doing yard work together. Maybe I really was crazy. No sane person would willingly keep coming back to a haunted mansion with killer ghosts.
“What you can do is leave.”
I sighed. “We’re back to that again, are we?”
“My stance has never changed. You were, and still are, a pest.”
“So cruel,” I responded. Then I remembered my visit to the library yesterday and the note I’d found tucked into the book. “Did you know Charlie Michaels?”
Shock replaced his irritation. “Why do you ask?”
“I found the book he wrote about Redwood. Or started writing. I think he saw Lady Death. Who is she? Why does she—”
“Enough,” Z snapped, bracing a hand on the door beside my head. “If you know about Charlie Michaels, then I suspect you also know his fate. He was curious about this manor, and that curiosity was the nail in his coffin. Learn from his mistake and do not repeat it.”