Page 32 of The Curse of Redwood

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.”

“But—”

“No, Carter. I have humored your curiosity, but it ends now.” Z took hold of my chin, forcing my face up to his. Our lips were so close, though I didn’t feel his breaths despite mine coming quicker. My heart raced, and I didn’t feel his beating at all. All signs of how different we were. “You are no longer welcome here.”

“You don’t mean that.” I moved my hand to his waist and gripped the material of his vest. “We’re connected. Can’t you feel it?”

“I feel nothing anymore,” he said in a pained tone, sliding his hand to my nape. His eyes searched mine. “Forget about this place. I beg of you.”

Emotion clogged in my throat. “I can’t.”

“You must.” His face inched closer, chilling my skin. “It’s not too late. You can leave now, and with time, this place will only be a bad memory.”

“Not all of it is bad,” I said, before lightly pressing my lips to his. He trembled… or maybe it was me who did. “Some of it is really good. Like when you showed me your library.”

“I apologize for giving in to my lust last time,” he said against my mouth. “It mustn’t happen again.” He tore away from me, putting several feet between us. “If only we’d met in another life.”