Page 38 of The Curse of Redwood

“Don’t know,” he said, chuckling. “But cool. I’ve upgraded my weapons, so let’s see if we can finally pass this level.”

As we played, we talked a little about our days. I couldn’t say much without giving away that I’d been at Redwood, so I asked him a bunch of questions to keep him distracted. He said he visited the mystic shop again that afternoon.

“Dude, why? That’s such a waste of money.”

“He didn’t charge me,” Taylor responded. “I didn’t get a reading or anything. I just went into the shop to grab a book I’d seen about healing chakras and the power of a positive mind.”

“He? Aren’t they usually women?”

“Men can have the gift too,” he said, before shouting at the game. Our characters had just died and we had to restart the level.

“Did you find the book you wanted at least?”

“Kinda forgot about it once I saw him. He distracted me.”

“Why? Is he, like, hideously ugly with a huge nose and warts?”

Taylor snorted. “Yeah. Totally ugly.”

We gamed until after midnight, then I stomped up the stairs to my room. Once in bed, I turned on the TV and snorted when I saw that a horror movie was playing. In it, a man yelled as he ran through a rundown warehouse. A demonic ghost girl chased him.

Movies like that used to scare me… then reality had become much more terrifying.

Chapter Eight

“Why do you carry a bag?” Z asked, as I arrived at the mansion that afternoon.

I adjusted the backpack on my shoulder. “Brought some supplies.”

“Supplies?”

I smirked and stepped into his embrace. “Fun supplies.”

He cupped my cheek and greeted me properly with a kiss.

It was the third time I’d gone to see him since we’d reached an understanding between us. Each visit, we talked and kissed, but we hadn’t gone any further than kissing. Mainly because we hadn’t had lube, and dry fucking wasn’t my cup of tea—it wasn’t anyone’s unless pain got you off. So, I’d packed some things just in case the moment arose again.

“Will I get to see thesefunsupplies?” he asked, leading me inside.

“If you’re good,” I responded, my smile widening at his impatient stare.

It didn’t feel as cold as it usually did in the mansion, despite the weather outside having grown cooler over the past week. Maybe because it didn’t unsettle me like it once had. The shadows were plenty, but I no longer peered into them and feared what might be staring back at me.

“Would you like to go to the parlor?” he asked, linking our fingers. “Or perhaps the sunroom.”

“The sunroom? I don’t think I’ve been there before.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

We went to the corridor on the right side, a part of the mansion I hadn’t seen yet. Pictures hung on the walls, though some had cracks in the glass. A vase with dried, dead flowers sat on a small stand shaped like a Greek white pillar, and a suit of armor stood ahead of us, hand on the sword at its side.

“Well, that’s not scary at all,” I said, pressing closer to Z’s side. “Does that guy ever come alive and roam the place?”

“Only on Thursdays.”

I gaped at him. “That’s today.” When he smiled, I slapped his arm. “Asshole.”

“You’re safe from the suit of armor, I can assure you,” he said, chuckling. “There are no possessed objects in this mansion.”