Page 22

Reaching the edge of the lawn, Amy paused, letting her gaze sweep over the mansion again. Nearly a year ago, the gardens were overgrown, the paint was peeling, and the foundation was riddled with issues, but she’d spent months breathing life back into the place. The bones of the house were solid; the details were intricate and full of character. She could see the potential, even if no one else could. The fruits of her and Sully’s labor were visible. Now, she just had to protect it.

Mason Stark might have been thrilled to sign the contract, but this was still her project. And her rules. If Mason and his crew thought they could waltz in and turn the mansion into their personal Halloween set, they were going to be in for a rude awakening.

Amy squared her shoulders, determination hardening in her chest, vowing to oversee every step of their work, set clear boundaries, and make sure the renovation stayed on track. Mason could have his footage and she the check they promised, but the mansion would not be overrun by spectacle and chaos.

She couldn’t afford to let her feelings—whatever they were—get in the way. The kiss had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment.

She needed to keep her focus on the project, not on the burly, rough-edged contractor.

Amy looked down at Ollie, who was now busy chasing a leaf across the grass. “Come on, buddy,” she said softly, tugging his leash. “We’ve got work to do.”

The little terrier bounded back to her side, his tail wagging as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Amy envied him for that.

As she walked back toward the mansion, she told herself, You’ll make it work. The words were more of a command than a reassurance.

Because this time, she had to.

Chapter 9

The group of onlookers was much larger than she’d expected. Kaitlin, who was intrigued by the process; along with Matt, who came because of Kaitlin and, Amy surmised, his own distrust of the outsiders.

Kelsey, Mac, and Noah had left before the filming got underway, citing the late hour and not wanting to give Noah nightmares. He and Kelsey had been star struck by the crew.

Amy sat stiffly in one of the mismatched chairs they’d dragged into the formal dining room, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The long oak table, still covered in dust and scratches from years of neglect, was surrounded by Mason’s crew, Kaitlin, Matt, and Sully. The psychic medium who went only by “Rhiannon,” sat at the head of the table. Her scarf was draped loosely over her shoulders. as she breathed deeply. The murmurs at the table fell silent as she lifted her hand and closed her eyes.

The house held its breath.

Candles flickered in the dim light, their flames casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. Even the creaks and groans of the old house were holding back, waiting.

Amy glanced across the table at Sully, who sat with his arms crossed and his chair tipped slightly back, balancing on two legs. He looked as skeptical as ever, with his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. Matt sat next to him, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, watching Rhiannon with a doubtful frown. Kaitlin, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. Her pen was poised over her notebook to catch every word.

Amy shivered.

“This house is alive with energy,” Rhiannon said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice carried an edge of intensity that was both theatrical and startling. “It’s speaking to me, showing me fragments of its past. There is so much here… pain, love, loss… but it’s layered. Complex. Much time has passed. There are children here. They enjoy playing games with the men who work here. You’ve had trouble with tools missing, misplaced.”

Amy glanced at Sully, who was staring skeptically at the medium.

“Most strong are two energies that stand out above all the others. They have a conflict between them that has been waiting to play out. Recent activity has disturbed their balance.”

The crew shifted slightly, the sound of chairs creaking filling the room. Mason, standing off to the side with his camera, zoomed in on Rhiannon’s face.

Rhiannon opened her eyes. Her gaze was distant and unfocused. “The first energy has a protective presence. Female, strong, and deeply tied to this house. She’s been guarding it for a very long time. She…” Rhiannon paused, her head tilting slightly as though listening to something. “She was wronged, deeply wronged. But she stayed. She couldn’t leave.”

Amy leaned forward slightly. Her bracelets jingled softly. “Why? Why couldn’t she leave?”

“She’s bound,” Rhiannon said, almost reverently. “Bound by her love for this place, by her need to see it safe. She’s… maternal. Fierce. I see her now.” Rhiannon’s eyes flicked to Amy, her expression softening. “She’s watching us. She’s watching you, in particular.”

“She also feels deep sorrow… combined with guilt.”

Amy swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Rhiannon’s words sliced into her, and she felt as though the air in the room had grown thinner. Disbelief and fear danced in her belly. A spirit watching her—was it that pull she’d been feeling?

Rhiannon’s expression darkened. She shook her head dramatically. “There is another heavy presence… outside.” She was whispering now. “It’s angry. Menacing. It circles the house, testing its boundaries, looking for a way in. It feeds on fear, thrives on it. It’s been here for a long time too, tied to the house, the garden, to the spirit inside. It wants…”

Rhiannon’s face scowled as though she were in pain.

“What does it want?” Kaitlin asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Rhiannon’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze was still distant. “This presence feels primal. Twisted. It wants to consume. It’s drawn to the life inside the house, to the people here. To her. It wants to come in.”