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Bailey
I’d never heard of houses having graveyards. Except in books. Dark, haunting books where the girl living in the house was driven mad by some unseen force. This was where I found myself now. In an old, haunted house with a graveyard out back.
I didn’t know why I was drawn to these things. Ever since I was a child, I was fascinated by the dark. Curious about the monsters under the bed that were never there. My mother would tell me that the monsters were afraid. Afraid of me. But she was wrong. The monsters were just waiting in the shadows. Waiting to consume me like the fire that took her and my father away from me. The fire that I survived.
Some said it was luck. Others claimed I was evil. That my family was cursed. I tended to believe the latter. I read the reports years later. The fire department said it was a mystery. The town priest said it was a miracle. And my neighbors… well, they said it was an act of the devil.
And once something was set in stone, it couldn’t be etched out.
With each day, I grew wearier, more fearful, retreating farther within myself. And my carnal cravings were becoming more intense inside this house. More twisted and depraved. My guys would give me whatever I wished for. Their cravings knew no bounds. But would I lose myself inside this dream? All I wanted was them. Their pain, their lust, and their desire. I wanted it to fill me and consume me.
But there was something even darker than us lurking around Wickford Mansion. I could feel it in my bones. Something sinister and wicked.
So, here I was in the middle of the night, kneeling in front of Mr. Wickford’s grave, searching for answers. I wiped the dirt off the cold headstone and traced my fingers over his epitaph. And all I loved, I loved alone. Edgar Allan Poe. A cold chill snaked up my spine. Such an odd quote to put on your dead husband’s grave.
I zipped my leather jacket all the way up to my neck as a burst of cold wind blew against me. I jerked my head toward the tree line as a branch snapped. “Fuck,” I whispered.
My heart raced as I cycled through all the possible things that could be lurking in the dark—wolves, vagrants, Mrs. Wickford’s angry ghost, local heathens waiting to pounce on me. Fuck, I hoped it was wolves.
I stood up slowly and backed away from the grave, mentally patting myself on the back for wearing sneakers instead of the fuzzy slippers I almost threw on. Another gust of wind embraced me, sending my blonde strands flying in every direction. The leaves rustled around my feet, circling me as if they were about to attack.
And still I waited, listening. Why was I like this?
If I were normal, I would’ve headed back inside already. A normal woman wouldn’t have come out here to begin with. A flash of lightning gripped the sky, followed by a deep rumbling of thunder.
I whipped around and stalked back toward the house just as the rain came down in buckets. Ah, shit. As I broke into a jog across the lawn, my hair was soaked within seconds. There was nothing gentle about a Wickford Hollow storm. When they came, it was with a vengeance.
I was almost to the back door when the lightning flashed again, lighting up the whole sky. I looked up, my eye drawn to the third story, and froze. A shadow pressed against the window, its eyes glowing like the moon. The thunder roared and the rain fell harder. I blinked and the shadow was gone.
Shivers climbed up my back. There was something there. Fuck.
The back door flew open. “Bailey! Get inside before you catch pneumonia!”
I blinked again as Poe held out his hand to me. I nodded and jogged toward him.
“Bailey,” the wind whispered.
I gasped and spun around. It was pitch black out here and hard to see through the rain. I looked up at the sky, waiting for another burst of lightning. Come on.
A crack echoed through the woods just as two strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me inside.
“What the hell were you doing out there?” Poe growled.
“I-I don’t know. I can’t f-feel my fin-fingers.” My teeth chattered as the chill began to settle into my bones. I couldn’t breathe.
Poe’s eyes widened. “Fuck. We need to get you out of these wet clothes or you’re going to freeze to death.”
I nodded.
“Grim, Saint, a little help here!” He yelled into the house as he undressed me where I stood.
They both barreled in. “What in the world?” Saint’s face paled.
Grim shook his head. “Fuck, Bailey, why in the devil’s name do you like trouble so much?”
“Help me get these off her. Saint go run a hot bath. We need to get her body temperature up,” Poe ordered.
Everything began to blur as if I were leaving my own body. Like it wasn’t attached to me anymore. I couldn’t feel their hands. But the fear that gripped me wasn’t from the cold. It was from whatever was out there watching me. The whisper in the wind. The shadow in the window.
