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You won’t regret this decision, Ms. Thomas. I’ll meet you at the house at noon sharp. Here’s the address.
6665 Ironwood Way, Crimson Falls, Maine 55506
I read over the address multiple times, a knot in my stomach, wondering if what I’m feeling is regret.
Whether it’s smart or not, I decide to ignore it.
4
THE ESTATE
SERAPHINE
Massive. Foreboding. Gothic. Haunted. All words I’d use to describe Ironwood Estate. It stands atop cliffs, and I can hear angry waves battering them below. The wind is atrocious at this altitude, and it does nothing to settle my fraying nerves.
The estate is dark and grungy; vines have taken back half of it. It looks like something straight out of a Victorian-era gothic novel. Two looming towers on either end, with large domed roofs that rise to sharp, steepled points, glare down at those who dare cross the property line. It’s four stories and overwhelming to look at.
I need somewhere to live, but the cozy inn I just checked out of was a lot more welcoming than the sprawling house before me, which looked like it had just leaped from the pages of a Brothers Grimm tale.
Kyrin mentioned on-site staff, but I have to wonder if that was a ploy to get me to take the job now that I’m faced with the impossible view of my new home. No one cares for this place; no one has for a very long time.
It was probably something in its prime, but that was long ago.
I finally get my feet to move away from my car, and they glide me toward the massive double doors.
On its surface, beneath a thick layer of dirt and grime, sits a large door knocker shaped like a demon. I lift it and slam it against the door a few times, the sound echoing in the alcove around me, and my heart races.
The door opens, and an elderly man in a suit stares at me over thin-framed glasses that could also use a good restoration. “May I help you, madam?”
I swallow down the need to make a Jeeves joke and smile nervously at him. He’s creepy-looking: tall, thin, and balding, with purple rings surrounding his eyes. His lips are parched, and I involuntarily lick mine before speaking. “Yes, sir. I’m here to work for Mr. Valdrich, Lucien, that is. Kyrin was supposed to meet me here. Has he arrived?” I force enthusiasm out through the anxiety that’s spiked in my body like a tidal wave about to roll over land.
“I’m afraid that Mr. Valdrich, Kyrin, was mistaken. Master Lucien doesn’t require any more assistance. Good day, miss.”
The door shuts in my face as quickly as it had opened, and I’m left standing stunned, nose to nose with the cold metal of the demon knocker.
Stepping back out near my car, I look up at the house, just in time to catch sight of a curtain billowing in an upstairs window.
I dial the number for Kyrin that I texted last night, leaning against my car as I nervously chew on the tip of my nail.
“Hello? Sera, I’m so sorry. I’m running behind, but I’m almost there.”
“Yeah. I’m here. But the butler won’t let me inside. I thought maybe you were here waiting for me, so I knocked… He said that Mr. Valdrich doesn’t require my assistance and slammed the door in my face.”
Kyrin growls. “Goddamnit, I swear to fucking… I will be right there.”
The call cuts out, and I look up at the house again, chewing my cheek as a cold breeze cuts through my sweater and makes me shiver.
I think about getting back in my car, but without functional heat, it would probably be just as cold.
True to his word, Kyrin rolls up in under five minutes, gravel flying beneath his car as he hurriedly parks beside me and gets out. “Get in the car and warm up. I’ll be right back.”
He stalks toward the house without any of the hesitation I approached it with, a man on an angry mission.
Doing as I’m told, I slide into his elegant car, shutting out the cold and relishing the warmth of the heater Kyrin has going full blast as I sink into the leather seat.
My eyes lock on the estate, waiting for Kyrin to be the next one flung off its doorstep, but nothing happens.
Yelling from inside filters over the heater, and I turn it down some, my throat tightening.
