Page 5

CHARLOTTE

When the sign for Colbéliard comes into view, I give a playful cheer, pleased that the ride didn’t feel as long as I had expected after all the day’s travel. Stepping out of the cab, I groan as every ache in my body intensifies from staying in one position so long.

“Are you sure you can’t drop me off closer?” I ask, voice bordering on a plea.

“Cab won’t fit through the narrow roads, love. You’ll be fine on your feet. The country air will do you well after all the recycled stuff you breathed on that plane,” he says with a little wave.

Huffing, I shut the door and take a step onto the sidewalk. The driver doesn’t linger, pulling away from the curb and heading off in the same direction he came.

As I drag my suitcase from the mouth of the little town all the way to the other end, where the castle looms, I find myself out of breath.

I have never considered myself athletic, even if I’m a master of jumping to conclusions.

Give me a comfy couch, some five-dollar wine, and a paint set over a marathon any day.

I may have city legs, but cobblestones for every street is killing me.

On the plus side, I’ve never felt so free among the open spaces of lawns and gardens.

Growing up in the city, I only ever saw green in the parks of wealthier neighborhoods or in small private gardens in the backyards of those lucky enough to have them.

It’s hard to imagine the world is like this, but it’s right in front of me and I can’t help but gape at it.

The land the castle sits on looks wild in the darkness, and the space from the gate to the castle proper is lush and beautiful, paved with stones covered in thin layers of green.

I suck in a deep lungful of air, crisper and cleaner compared to anything in NYC, as I withdraw the thick bronze key from my coat. It’s the only one Michael gave me, so let’s hope it works.

When I slip it into the lock, there’s a sudden, sharp whistle of wind.

It whips around, yanking at my hair and sending it wildly into my face.

I sputter as I turn the key, the lock sliding open with a squeal of effort that sends a chill to my bones.

Once I hear the clunk of the mechanism opening, I push the gate open with one hand and pry the dastardly strands from my mouth and eyes.

“Great, perfect first impression,” I huff to no one in particular.

Michael told me someone should be here to greet me, but he never told me who, just that they weren’t a relative. My aunt had been the last of those on either side, so I was out of luck.

I drag my suitcases down the driveway, the hefty cases bucking up as they roll over the bumpy stones and slip between the cracks.

My shoulders ache so badly that I’m pretty sure I must have at least partially dislocated one by the time I make it to the grand double doors.

Big wrought iron knockers rest on each door, circular with ornamental twists that still somehow feel outstandingly plain for what I expected of a castle.

The pair of them stare at me like a judgy local before I grasp one and knock as hard as I can.

The force of my pounding reverberates through me and makes my shoulders twinge. I hiss and drop the knocker. Grabbing my left shoulder, I do my best to work out the pulsing pain, rolling it forward and backward until the joint feels more like it should.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut. The relief brought on is too great not to praise.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, dear,” a soft voice says with a laugh, shocking me out of the moment of peace.

A woman with silver hair and cornflower-blue eyes smiles at me. She’s wearing a simple knit sweater and jeans and emits an aura of kindness that puts me at ease. How someone can look so put together at this god-awful hour is a wonder.

I know I look like a hot mess express, to put it nicely. There’s no way in the world that after an eight-hour flight and my world being turned upside down I could manage anything else.

I offer her a sorry half smile.

“Sorry, I was— My shoulder—” I ramble.

She chuckles, the sound warm and comforting like a hug, and lifts a hand to stop me.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. You’re the mistress of the castle now.

That means you could go about howling like a dog at the moon if it pleases you,” she says sweetly, a hint of humor lacing her voice.

“Though I would ask that you didn’t. Most in town tend to tuck in early since there is a good bit of farmland and the winery opens early for work. ”

“Right, no howling,” I mumble lamely. “I’m Charlotte Ryan.”

“Oh dear, where are my manners? Good to meet you, Charlotte. Come in. My name is Eloise Ansbro; I run a little bookshop in town and agreed to be at the castle when you arrived. Mr. Anderson insisted there be someone here whenever you should arrive.”

“Bookshop?” I perk up at the prospect of a new place to find good things to read.

She moves to the side, and I grab my suitcases again.

“Just leave those there for a moment, and they’ll be handled. Come sit with me and chat for a while. You must feel awfully overwhelmed.”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” I say with a nervous laugh.

She looks human, but I don’t entirely know if she is. From what I’ve read about Irish folklore on the ride from the airport to here, there are a lot of creatures around these parts that could look human.

“Not one of my specialties.” She winks, sweeping me from the entryway up a small flight of stairs and into a sitting room already warmed by a crackling fire.

To my surprise, the room is fully furnished in an eclectic mismatch of styles.

A well-loved solid wood desk sits across the room, and a large plush rug the color of mulled wine covers most of the floor.

Four different chairs are arranged in front of the fireplace.

I settle into the leather wing-back chair and set my arms on the rests.

I can’t fight the giggle that rolls out of my mouth.

I feel like a supervillain. I’m only missing the fluffy white cat.

“So, tell me about yourself, Charlotte.” Eloise takes the ultra-cushy Chesterfield chair that almost swallows her entire small stature as she sits.

“Not much to tell.”

“That can’t be true.” She scolds me.

“But it is. I mean, I got fired the same day I found out about my aunt’s passing.

I didn’t know about her, by the way. I don’t know anything about my parents’ families.

I don’t even know if she was my mother’s sister or my father’s sister.

” The words come rushing out like wine from a cask with the plug pulled.

“I never expected to find anyone who would want to claim me besides my best friend and her parents. They took me in when my parents passed.”

The corners of Eloise’s eyes crinkle thoughtfully. She nods for me to go on, and the words keep coming.

“And now, there’s this castle and all my aunt’s money, which is more than I’ve seen in my entire life, and this town and?—”

“Take a breath, Charlotte. I’m not going anywhere,” Eloise assures me.

“I suppose not. I didn’t get the keys to the castle yet,” I say, the exhaustion taking all the sting from my words.

“Speaking of…” She pulls a ring of probably a dozen keys from one of the pockets on her sweater, offering them to me. “These are the keys to every door in the castle.”

“That’s a lot of doors,” I sigh, taking the keys from her and going through them one by one.

There are over a dozen, and I get anxious just looking at them.

“This place has some rooms that remain untouched but have been kept up well,” she says, grasping her chin as she thinks. “You should have a look around and get your bearings, best to learn your way around in the dark in this town.”

“Why in the dark?” A cold sliver of fear snakes its way down my spine, causing me to shiver slightly despite my layers and the fire.

Eloise arches a silver brow at me but smiles.

“The electrician should have the power back on tomorrow, so unless you are comfortable traversing by candlelight, learning how to get around as you are is your best bet,” she says in a no-nonsense way that makes me purse my lips, feeling like a naughty child.

Her smooth Irish accent softens the blow, but only just.

“Right, thanks.”

“Of course, I’m also always a call away.

I may not have lived here, but I’ve been in this town my entire life, and I’ve made visits to this castle a few times when there were community events.

I know my way around well enough.” She pushes herself up from the chair.

“I should be going. My wife and I are having a meal with her parents sometime tomorrow.”

“Oh, awesome, cool,” I say with a bit of relief. Some places off the beaten path might not be LGBTQ+ friendly, but this town at least is accepting. “I think I will take a look around, try to get my bearings and then pass out.”

“You surely have had quite the shock, coming to a new country and the world changing as it has. Though I will say that our little town has always been a bit more magical than the rest of the world.” She winks. “Have a good evening, Charlotte.”

“Have a good evening, Eloise,” I reply, watching her walk out, leaving me alone in the room that suddenly feels far too big for just me.

I sink back into the chair and groan. My eyes flick around the room to the shelves lined with books, most of which have words on the spines written in languages I can’t understand, and then to the grand desk on the opposite side of the room, backed by large arched windows letting in beautiful rays of moonlight.

Not only is this whole country seemingly greener, but it has more than enough rain to keep it that way. It’s like I’ve never seen the world in the right colors before, and as an artist, my heart breaks for New York and all of its gray.

I stand slowly, taking in the room one last time before cursing.

“Shit, I need to get my bags. There’s no way I’m letting Eloise heft them up the stairs.” The thought of the older woman even attempting to pull those into the house makes me want to faint.

I scramble out of the room and retrace my steps, finding the entryway again. The front doors are closed, and my bags are nowhere in sight.

“Weird,” I whisper, eyes flicking around. I tip my head to try to listen for any distant noises, but nothing catches my attention.

I’m alone in the castle, and for all intents and purposes, my bags just walked themselves to the room that will be mine. Wherever that is. An uncanny awareness prickles at the edges of my mind. I might be alone, but it doesn’t feel that way.

“Get a hold of yourself, Lottie. Ghosts and ghouls and monsters may exist, but it’s highly unlikely any would be living in your castle,” I say, trying to reassure myself, though the words sound weak.

I turn back toward the stairs, taking in their grand swoop upward. But a big blob of something yellow whooshes across the landing at the top.

Making me nearly jump out of my skin.

I swear it’s there, but when I blink, it’s gone. Nothing that big should be that fast, and nothing should be in this house with me. Eloise said so…right?

Wrong . She didn’t actually say anything about the status of the maybe monsters in the basement.

“Oh my god, I’m freaking exhausted,” I groan, shoving my head into my hands and taking a breath. The exhaustion must be hitting harder than I thought. “New country, new home, new life. I can do this.”