Page 2 of Grotesque

Having carefully inspected each bedroom, I picked one closest to the top of the stairs, that by all appearances, seemed to be made for me. The terracotta crushed velvet bedding and matching curtains reminded me of my favorite season.

Everything looked brand new, even the kitchen had been freshly stocked with supplies. Was this place magic?

Sorcha , I scolded. She obviously arranged for someone to ready the place for your arrival.

I gazed through the bedroom’s broad windows, admiring the view of the black gravel driveway and long stone wall that shielded the property from the rest of the world.

The tall gates didn’t seem as menacing from up here.

I could even describe the place as charming, with the way the sunlight glinted off the iron and caressed the manicured lawn.

My reservations were fading fast as my mind spun with all the possibilities of living in this magnificent space.

Something shifted in the corner of my eye but when I turned towards it…

everything looked the same. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, other than I had the distinct sense that the house looked different depending on the angle you looked at it from.

Satisfied with my self-guided tour, I strode back to the car to grab the rest of my luggage. As soon as my foot hit the gravel, I felt it again. That horrible sensation of eyes boring into the back of my head.

I spun around but just as before, there was no one. I had searched every room, closet, and corner before coming outside. I scowled at the gargoyles. “You’re not doing your job very well.”

Gargoyles were supposed to be protectors, guarding the homes or places of worship they flanked the roofs of, warding off evil spirits.

Two were crouched over the doorway, their long talons digging into the stone banister.

Several more with long spindly necks hung off the second floor, their gaping mouths ready to channel a heavy rainfall.

The last was a single statue coiled over the very top of the main entryway…

it looked more like a dragon than the rest, with its membranous wings furled at its back.

The long neck was decorated with scales, and four horns protruded from the brow above its snarling face.

Grandma Macky liked very spooky things.

The longer I looked at the gargoyles the worse my sense of unease became. Why was something that was supposed to be protecting me from harm so damn terrifying?

Once everything I thought I might need was out of the car, I explored outside.

The forest concealed a decent amount of the property to the east but behind the house, past the garden, was a clear open field, at least another five or six acres.

There was no telling what was beyond that, but I assumed it all belonged to the manor.

Belonged to me. A place like this wouldn’t do well with neighbors backed up against it like in the suburban sprawl a few towns over.

The garden was just as unique as the house. No, not a garden, I realized as I drew closer – it looked like a small hedge maze.

I circled the lush greenery, open-mouthed.

There were four entrances, each crowned by a white lattice arch draped in lavender wisteria.

A pair of small shrubs adorned with dark berries flanked each lattice.

The hedge, tall, and comprised of what looked like some kind of freshly trimmed weed, connected the entrances in a perfect square.

Inside, I could see plots of roses, lilies, and other florals I didn’t recognize, lining the pathways between the strange, weed-like hedge walls.

The flowers almost looked out of place, despite how purposefully they had clearly been planted.

I bent down, reaching out to examine a pink-petaled shrub.

I hesitated before my fingers touched it. There hadn’t been a rule about picking flowers, but with how particular Macky seemed to be…

I rubbed my fingers together. The nagging sense that whoever was watching me still had their eyes on me made me tug my fingers back. Best not push my luck.

I couldn’t shake the swarm of emotions that hounded me. Excitement. Foreboding. Gratitude. Fear.

“Get a grip, Sorcha.” I muttered to myself.

I’d seen one too many horror movies and now every time something seemed a little off, I immediately assumed the worst. It didn’t matter that in every horror flick the girl who went into the big scary haunted mansion got killed.

That was film. This was real life. This was a dream come true.

I had an entire manor with an entire kitchen stocked full of food, a whole forest to explore, a claw foot tub that had been calling my name since the moment I laid eyes on it, and I was going to be rich.

One. Million. Dollars. All I had to do was remain here for one year.

And every year after that I would get more.

And how could I not love this place for all the lavish charm and mystery it offered! ?

All the same, I locked the front door behind me when I reentered the manor.

This would be a piece of cake.

In fact, now was as good of a time as any to celebrate.

I walked into the kitchen and popped open a bottle of champagne.