Page 5 of Grotesque

T he cool breeze of the bay blew through my car window as I drove into town.

Bristol was a sleepy little place, right on the water, which was dotted with an assortment of sailing and fishing boats.

It was about a forty-minute drive from Glamis Manor.

The red brick factories and whitewashed colonial homes were in stark contrast to the gothic abode I had moved into.

Last night had been long . On more than one occasion I had woken up with the eerie sensation of being watched crawling all over my body.

I knew I was alone, that my bedroom door was locked, and that nothing could look back at me through the mirrors since I’d ensured they were covered.

But the feeling had made for a hellish night, and even worse dreams.

Reading horror novels before bed was hardly helping.

The last thing I’d done before leaving the house this morning was cover the rest of the mirrors. I’d pulled sheets from the beds in a couple of the spare bedrooms, tucking their corners firmly to conceal the dark, still reflections. Better to be safe than sorry, I figured.

There wasn’t anything I needed in town, but exploring always did my soul good. I spent the afternoon wandering antique shops and boutiques before I made my way into a small pub, McBride’s scrawled boldly across its doorway in big gold lettering.

Revelers spilled across the patio, but I had to blink against the darkness as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as I walked inside.

For a Thursday afternoon, the place was buzzing.

There was a small crowd huddled at the bar with few people standing in the middle of the floor, laughing and hollering about something John did on Monday.

I squeezed myself between two bodies and made a beeline for the last seat at the bar.

Luck was on my side today.

I had enough money saved up from my old waitressing job that I could afford a beer or two on this fine afternoon.

Macky’s attorney had explained that I would be receiving the initial inheritance payment within the first month of residency at Glamis.

It would be enough to get me through the first year.

After that, the big checks would roll in and I’d never have to worry about a thing ever again.

My phone buzzed.

Mom: How’s it going?

I hadn’t told her I had made it to the house yet. Part of me was still anxious about the whole ‘secret mansion’ thing.

Me: Fine. I should be there in another day or two. I keep pulling off to explore all the little towns along the way.

Mom: Alright. Be safe and let me know as soon as you get there.

I took a sip from my glass. I had no clue what I was going to tell her.

I couldn’t avoid her forever. I knew Mom, though.

She would ruin this just as soon as she found out.

She would make it about her. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to get me to sell the place.

Or worse, take matters into her own hands and move in with me.

“Want another?” The bartender nodded to me.

I looked down shamefully at my nearly empty glass. “Um, yeah.”

“Something stronger?”

I smiled. “No, the same is fine. I have to drive back.” My shot nerves protested, but I remembered seeing wine in the pantry. I could break into that once I got home. I just needed to be away from the manor for a little bit.

Someone bumped roughly against my shoulder.

I turned to see a man’s back as he stumbled past me, grabbing the edge of the bar to steady himself.

A sharp remark starting with how about you watch where you’re going and ending with asshole was on the tip of my tongue when he suddenly glanced my way.

A cocky smile turned his lips up as he made a quick head to toe assessment of me, his gaze lingering on my thighs.

“That’s a cool tattoo,” he said. His dark brown eyes had an odd flatness to them, like he was looking through you, or into you. When that smile deepened, there were soft crinkles in the skin around his eyes and lips.

“Thanks,” I said, turning my attention back to the bartender. “I’ll go ahead and close out.”

“What’s it for?”

It was the cringiest most annoying question in the book about tattoos. “For me. I got it because I liked it.”

“Well yeah, but does it mean anything?” the guy asked.

“It means I like moths, so I got one tattooed on me.”

The man frowned. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but shut it when someone clapped a hand on his back.

“Jeremy, Katelyn is asking where you’re at. Maybe stop hitting on other women and go check on your wife.” He was tall with broad shoulders and a waist to match. His smile seemed pleasant enough, but the look in his eyes as they bore into Jeremy’s stated in no uncertain terms that he meant business.

Jeremy looked between us before grumbling and rising. “Ass,” he hissed.

The man slipped onto the stool beside me. “Sorry about that.”

“I feel sorry for Katelyn.”

He snorted. “Me too, that’s my sister.”

“Yikes.” I watched him and the bartender, Jason, exchange a few words. My new bar companion worked in IT a few towns over, it seemed. Jason was asking him how the new contract was going before he turned back to me.

“Very yikes,” he said. “I’m Quint, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Quint was handsome, no doubt about it. He had a tan that said he worked out in the sun when he wasn’t sitting behind a desk. His jawline was bare, but shaded with the barest hint of stubble.

“Sorcha. And I just moved here.”

“Oh! Well, welcome. I love Bristol, but kind of an odd place to move. Where are you from?”

I took a sip of my drink. “I’m from Miami.” I laughed when his eyes widened. “Yeah, big change.”

“No kidding.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Why the jump?”

“It’s a long story.” No way was I about to tell some stranger about the small fortune I had landed on.

Quint held up a hand. “No pressure.”

“I just needed a change of scenery,” I settled on.

“I get that. I’ve thought about moving myself but it’s hard to get away when your roots are so far in the ground.”

I nodded like I understood. I didn’t really. I was thankful for the space I had now put between me and the toxicity that was my family. It was a shame you couldn’t pick them the way you chose friends. That you were just stuck with them for life, good or bad.

I had a small group of friends back home that I missed already, but I could make new friends.

My gaze slid back to Quint who was recommending the best spots in town for food.

At the mention of a burger my stomach growled.

Now that he mentioned it, I was absolutely starving.

In my haste to get out of Glamis this morning I’d skipped breakfast, and it was now well after lunch.

“A burger sounds amazing,” I said.

“I was going to swing by Carmel’s if you’re interested in joining me? It’s block up from here.” The hope in his question made me smirk.

I’d met guys like Quint before, but he seemed genuine.

Sure, there were a million things that could go wrong leaving with a stranger you just met, especially if you’re a woman, but Quint didn’t strike me as a bad guy. He had the good ol’ boyish character that balanced out his gruff features.

What’s the worst that could happen in a place like this?

We finished our drinks and strolled up the street.

I told him about Miami, and he told me how the biggest city he had ever visited was Manhattan – a trip to visit another one of his sisters.

Before I knew it, we were seated and stuffing our faces with possibly the best burger I’ve ever had. Whoever Carmel was, hats off to him.

It felt like I had known Quint for longer than a couple of hours. He had a familiar air about him. He was confident with a slight edge, but I caught him blushing at least once when I allowed myself to truly smile.

I’d been so spun up with the drama around Macky’s death and the sudden move, and was finally feeling like I could relax a little.

I stopped mid laugh at a story he was telling about how he had stolen his friend’s car as a prank when he was younger.

The sun had completely vanished from the sky.

I hadn’t even noticed when it had started to set, but now the tangerine blush of the clouds reflected off the water.

I had less than an hour to get back to the house before the light would be gone completely.

Before it was dark. Rule #3: Do not leave the shelter of the manor after nightfall.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed under my breath. I burst up from the table, fumbling a wad of cash from my pocket down. “I’m so sorry but I have to go.”

Quint’s entire countenance fell like I had just socked him in the gut. “Is everything ok?”

“No– yes. I’m sorry, I have to get home before dark.”

He cracked a hesitant smile. “You going to turn into a pumpkin or something?”

How did I even begin to explain my grandmother’s crazy rules and that I had no idea what would happen if I broke them?

She was clearly superstitious, but I had already made the house a promise: that I wouldn’t break any of said rules.

Not on the second night at least. Not until I found out why she had those rules.

“Something like that.”

Quint grabbed my hand before I could dart out.

He let it go when I whirled around. “Sorry,” he said.

He handed me back the cash I’d left on the table.

“I got it. Can I get your number at least? I’d like to see you again, or if you ever need someone to show you around town.

” Words were tumbling out of his mouth too quickly for him to keep up with.

A personal rule I have is that you never give the first nice thing that comes your way a shot. At least wait and see what your options are before diving headfirst into anything.

But clearly, I was turning into quite the rebel today.