The Phantom’s Claim
Chapter 1
Clara
Soft music played in the background as I stuffed my shoes into the corner of my bag, the soles touching the bottom away from my clothes. I worked down my list to ensure everything was packed. After today, there would be no more student status, only a lifetime of suitable employment. The weight of responsibility was on the horizon, which is why this trip with my friends was crucial. A rapid knock on my dorm door had me smiling.
“Clara? Are you ready?”
The walls were thin, but even through the wooden door, I could hear Sabita’s excitement. I rushed to open the door before my neighbours got cranky. Sabby was in her summer gear as if we were in Spain instead of England. She pushed the large sunglasses off and used them like a headband, sliding the legs into her black silky hair.
“I knew you would triple-check everything with a list, which is why I am here, to hurry you along. Rachel will be here soon,” she said as she walked past me.
“I’m shocked that you are out of bed before ten,” I said with a grin before I closed the door. “Do you know where Rachel is taking us?”
“Nah, she wouldn't tell me, no matter how much I harassed her. Ella doesn't have a clue either,” she said, placing her bag beside mine.
Rachel’s parents were wealthy and kind enough to pay for the accommodation. We didn't end up in the same Universities or courses, but we did keep in touch. We all needed this trip to blow off some steam and say goodbye to the torturous years of studying, lectures, and exams.
I zipped my bag and disconnected my phone from the speakers before I turned to Sabby. Adventure was in the air, and for once in my predictable life, I wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace the unknown.
“Let’s do this,” I said with my grin matching hers.
???
The road trip was fun. It reminded me of family holidays, since it was the only time we were allowed junk food as snacks. As adults, we had snacks and vodka on the way to Rachel’s mystery location.
“I think she is going to murder us all out here in the sticks,” Ella giggled beside me.
“I don't care as long as I’m wasted when she does it,” Sabby said from the front passenger seat.
“I’m too lazy to murder all three of you. The cleanup of multiple bodies isn't worth it,” Rachel snickered.
We must be close, we had been on the smaller roads for at least twenty minutes. I looked through the window at the looming trees that cut off the warm sun’s rays. A sudden chill made me reach for my jacket, but I paused to stare at the house in the distance. The quaint village had been a pleasant stop to get our supplies in, but the landscape looked dull without the sun.
The size and rural location made it stand out, but that wasn’t it. When I glanced above the manor, black birds seemed to circle it. The birds didn’t flap—they drifted in widening circles, like ashes caught in an updraft. Their beaks gaped silently, as if the house had stolen their cries.
A cramp twisted low in my belly, timed with the birds’spiral. I told myself it was the vodka. The cold slid up my thighs first, a lover’s touch through my jeans. By the time I grabbed my jacket, my nipples had pebbled—not from the temperature.
I slipped my jacket on, careful not to spill my drink and ignoring the goosebumps on my arm. When I glanced up, the house was out of sight, and the sun broke through the tree’s canopy. I ignored the restless sensation in the pit of my stomach. It had to be the damn vodka.
“You’re so jumpy!” Ella said, laughing as she swatted my knee. Her fingers left damp prints on my jeans. When I looked down, they were gone.
“If anyone needs to relax this weekend, it’s our Clairebear,” Sabby said, reaching back for the bottle.
The girls didn't seem to notice anything. I shook my head at my overactive imagination, scolding myself before smiling and taking a large gulp of my vodka. This was the last trip I would go on since I had the crippling student debt to pay off and they were right I was uptight.
???
My relaxed state lasted two minutes when I saw the old mansion. I peered out the window, but the circling birds were nowhere to be seen. The iron gates were rusted open, but I could just make out the words ‘Greywood Manor’ carved into the stone’s arch, half-obscured by ivy that twitched in the windless air.
Rachel parked next to the house beside a tall gated entrance that led to an eerie-looking garden. The mature trees gobbled up all the sunlight, darkening the area. She pulled her phone off the dashboard and the bottle of vodka off Sabby.
“Oh, my God, this must have cost a fortune,” Sabby said as she stared at the Manor.”
“Greywood Manor,” Rachel announced. “Built in 1823, abandoned since—” She squinted at her phone. “Huh. No one seems to know.”
I stared at her, the hint of a smile curling her lips. She was up to something. Memories of our teenage sleepovers flooded back. All the truth and dare games—Rachel’s love of crime dramas and horror movies.
