Inheritance
1155 Words
Chapter 1: Inheritance
The taxi crunched up the gravel drive, its headlights spilling over a mansion that looked like it belonged in a Victorian ghost story.
I pressed my forehead against the window and sighed. Of course my Aunt Helena couldn’t have left me something normal, like a nice little apartment in the city. No, she had to go full Addams Family with this Gothic monster squatting on the edge of nowhere.
The driver glanced back at me. “You sure this is the place, miss?”
“Unfortunately.” I hugged my backpack closer, as if the worn canvas could protect me from the looming turrets and black-iron gates.
The house had been in my mother’s family for generations. Except my mother never talked about it—or about Aunt Helena—except in mutters and half-formed curses. All I knew was that the woman had died, childless, and in some bizarre twist of fate, decided her quiet, book-obsessed niece deserved to inherit a crumbling mansion instead of, say, a rich collector or an institution.
The car stopped. I climbed out, stretching my legs and feeling the late summer air wrap cool around my skin. The house seemed to be watching me.
“Good luck,” the driver muttered, already reversing back down the drive before I could even fish for a tip.
Typical. Abandoned by my Uber driver and my blood relatives in one fell swoop.
I stood in the shadow of the mansion, taking in the dark windows and the way ivy crawled up the stone like fingers trying to claw their way inside. The front doors loomed, arched and carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. They looked like they belonged in a cathedral—or maybe a horror film.
“Okay, Selene,” I whispered to myself, adjusting the strap of my bag. “You survived four years of library science with nothing but instant noodles and an aggressive roommate. You can handle one drafty haunted house.”
The key Aunt Helena’s lawyer had given me was heavy, wrought iron, like something that should open a dungeon. It scraped against the lock, reluctant, before finally turning with a sound that echoed far too loudly in the silent night.
The doors creaked open.
Inside, the mansion was dust and shadows. The air smelled faintly of old paper and cedar, like a library that had been closed for decades. My sneakers squeaked against marble flooring, and above me, a chandelier sagged, its crystals dulled by cobwebs.
But then I saw them—rows upon rows of books, stretching up behind glass cabinets, their spines gilded, their titles in languages I couldn’t immediately identify.
I exhaled, something loosening in my chest.
“Well, Aunt Helena,” I murmured, stepping deeper inside, “maybe you weren’t completely insane after all.”
Silence swallowed my voice.
I flicked on my phone and hit call. If I was going to be murdered by mothballs and drafty corridors, at least someone would hear my last words.
“Nina,” I whispered when she picked up. “You are not going to believe this place.”
“Is it haunted?” she teased.
“Haunted, cursed, probably hiding at least three corpses in the basement. It’s like Dracula married Beauty and the Beast and this was their love child.”
I swept my flashlight beam upward, across the carved banister of a grand staircase.
And froze.
Someone was standing there.
A man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, halfway down the stairs as if he’d been on his way to investigate the noise. His posture was rigid, his presence heavy, and though the light barely caught his features, I could feel his gaze cut straight into me.
My phone nearly slipped from my hand. “Wh—who are you?”
The figure stilled. His head tilted slightly, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right. His eyes locked onto mine—sharp, searching, disbelieving.
“You…” His voice was deep, careful. “You can see me?”
I swallowed hard, pulse skittering. “Of course I can see you. You’re—” I waved a shaky hand at him. “Standing right there. Being tall and ominous. What kind of question is that?”
For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then, slowly, he shifted, stepping sideways across the stair, shadows clinging to him as though reluctant to let him go.
My breath hitched. “What are you doing?”
His mouth curved—just barely. “Confirming.”
“Confirming what?”
He descended one step, his boots echoing softly against marble. His gaze never wavered, dark and intent, as if I were the impossible thing in the room.
“That you’re not supposed to see me.”
“Of course I can see you,” I snapped, my voice higher than I meant. “You’re right there, looming on the stairs like some broody cosplayer.”
He blinked slowly, then started down the steps toward me.
My pulse jumped. “Don’t. Don’t come closer.”
He ignored me, each measured step drawing him deeper into the beam of my phone’s flashlight. Shadows clung to him, sliding across sharp cheekbones and a mouth that curved as if amused by my threat.
He stopped barely a foot from me. Too close. Close enough that I could see the faintest ripple of something not-quite-human in the air around him, like heat rising from stone. His eyes swept over me, deliberate, assessing, as though he were studying something rare.
“I’ll call the cops,” I blurted, fumbling for the phone still clutched in my hand.
His mouth curved further—not a smile, but something darker. “Technology doesn’t work here.” His voice slid over me, velvet and final. “The house swallows it. It let you use that device because you had only just entered. Now…” His gaze flicked to the glowing screen in my hand. Dead. Black. Not even a flicker.
My throat went dry. “That’s not possible.”
He tilted his head, ignoring my panic as his eyes lingered on me with unnerving focus. “You’re… extraordinary.” His hand lifted, almost of its own accord, fingers brushing close to my hair. “Even your hair…” His voice roughened, like he hadn’t spoken such words in years. “…like starlight.”
Alarm jolted through me. I stumbled back and shoved at him—
My hand passed through his chest.
Ice stabbed up my arm, cold and shocking, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I staggered, gasping, eyes wide. “What the—what are you?”
His expression shifted, the brief flicker of awe replaced by something unreadable. “Not what you expected.”
The room tilted. Darkness crowded the edges of my vision, and before I could force air back into my lungs, the cold and the fear surged together.
And then I fainted.
- Writer
