Page 8 of The Curse of Redwood

“Oh yeah?” Miles slid his hand up the front of her shirt. She laughed and swatted at him.

“Have some class, man,” Taylor said, shaking his head at them. “Or get a room.”

“Why did you ask about the Ouija board?” I asked.

Taylor shrugged. “I’ve played around with them a few times and nothing ever happened. Was just curious about you since we’re both into that stuff. I have one if you wanna play it.”

“Nah, I’m good.” I took another shot. “Take my advice and don’t mess with it again.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Taylor smiled and finished off his drink. “Who wants to play beer pong?”

Two hours later, I was totally wasted. I learned a valuable lesson that night—I sucked at beer pong. I could barely stay upright by the time everyone left the party.

“You’re not drivin’ home.” Taylor pushed me down on the couch. “You can crash here.”

After the party ended and we settled down for bed, I lay on the couch and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the other side of the wall where Miles and that girl were going at it—again. Rich had left with the pretty brunette, so I was alone in the living room.

When I closed my eyes, I sawhim. The mysterious Z. Maybe it was because I was drunk, but the thought of him left my chest hollow.

Even though it had been ten months since I’d last seen him, I still remembered the way he’d tasted and the sound of his smooth voice when he spoke. His long blond hair had brushed across my collarbone as he’d kissed me, and I had run my fingers through the silky strands, finding no one more beautiful than him.

What if he was waiting for me at Redwood Manor?

Could he really be one of the spirits that haunted its halls?

Just like every night for the past week, I dreamed of the mansion. However, unlike the other dreams, I wasn’t standing in front of it facing off with a bunch of spirits. The dreadful feeling was nowhere to be found.

Instead, I moved down the second-floor corridor, smiling. Sunlight spilled in through the windows, and everything appeared warm and inviting. I ran my hand along a windowsill before doing the same to the long, flowy curtains. I loved the way they moved under my touch.

“There you are.”

Up ahead, I saw Z. His long blond hair was in a braid down his back, and he wore riding clothes; black boots over his pants and a high-collared shirt with a jacket that hung down lower in the back. He waited beside a grandfather clock, one hand behind his back while the other stretched out toward me.

“Come with me,” he said, and I slipped my hand into his. “It’s such a splendid morning. We shouldn’t waste it.”

“What if your father sees us?” I found myself asking, though I wasn’t sure why. It was as though someone else had control over my actions, over my words.

“Men cannot go on rides together? How absurd.” Z glanced around, ensuring we were alone, before kissing the top of my hand. “We can go to our spring in the wood. Just you and me.”

“Ezekiel James Warren,” a deep voice boomed from down the hall. “Where have you run off to?”

Z—Ezekiel?—dropped my hand just as a tall, broad-shouldered man came around the corner. He had a head of blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The man looked as if he’d never smiled once in his entire life.

“Yes, Father?” Ezekiel asked.

“Quit wasting time with your manservant and get outside. Your horse is saddled and ready.”

“Might he accompany me on my ride this morn?” Ezekiel asked, squaring his shoulders as he held his head high. Such a proper gentleman. Handsome and poised.

“Very well,” his father answered with a flick of his hand. “If you insist.”

Ezekiel bowed his head to the older man before glancing over at me. His expression was indifferent, yet I saw the light in his eyes. A light meant for me. “Meet me at the stables once you’re dressed. And do hurry. We haven’t got all morning.”

I kept a straight face until I turned around. Then, my previous smile surfaced again, and I jogged to my chambers to dress.

The scene changed after that.

The warmth faded and the cold crept back in. Day turned to night. Now, the manor appeared as it always did in my nightmares—looming in darkness, the walls groaning in the cold wind. I approached the front steps. The ghosts stood around me, their heads slowly turning to follow me as I passed them. The large doors of the mansion creaked as they opened, and I got the sense again that the house was a living, breathing thing.