Ever After

Book 1: Cursed Series

by Odessa Gillespie Black

Genres: Gothic; Fantasy Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

Fans of Twilight are listening to this! Her dreams weren't dreams. They were memories. In order to fully inherit a millionaire's fortune, Allie Knowles must survive a month on her property - easier said than done when the enormous house is haunted by a violent ghost who claims to know Allie. But the true mystery lies with Cole Kinsley, the handsome groundskeeper. Cole and Allie have never met, though he's been driving her wild in her dreams for years. Yet now, every effort to get closer to him pushes him further away. Cole has only ever loved one soul, and that love has endured for centuries. Now, that soul rests within Allie's body, and it takes everything in his power not to confess the truth. For her presence has put them both in mortal danger. Racing against the clock, Allie will have to break the ghost's curse - or history will be doomed to repeat itself.

Release date: September 1, 2015

Publisher: Odessa Gillespie Black

Print pages: 234

Sample

 

Between dream and reality, I fumbled for my phone, knocking over my nightstand lamp in the process. The phone felt like a cold wrought iron handrail of a sweeping Victorian staircase from my dream. I shook off the feeling and answered. “Hello.”

“Allie, you have some mail here,” Mama said. “It’s marked urgent. From the Law Offices of Preston Dawkins of Nashville, Tennessee. You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Seriously? When was the last time I was in trouble?” I righted the lamp and turned off my alarm. It was set for eleven AM, and I had two minutes before it blared some ridiculous talk show host’s voice in my ear.

Mama sighed and glasses clinked in the background. “Well, it’s odd it came here instead of your apartment. And you are too perfect. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Because I fell from the same tree as your other rotten apples doesn’t mean I have to be tainted, too. It’s probably junk mail.”

“Well, to ease an old woman’s mind, would you have time to come open it?”

“You’re not old. Let me put on some clothes.” A night of restless sleep had left me drained, so I wobbled as I stood. “You could always open it for me. I’m not going to convict you of a felony.”

“I’ll just wait. Besides, it’s a good excuse to see you.” She let out a laugh that had always made my less than desirable childhood experiences bearable.

I hung up and fumbled around, looking for my other shoe. Every morning, after that stupid recurring dream, my chest ached, and the cramped one-bedroom apartment was even lonelier. Most psychology books would instruct me to go to a club with people my age and fraternize more.

Outside, a mixture of baby diapers and rotten salmon patties scented the air. Even breathing through my mouth hadn’t helped. The dumpster next to the apartment overflowed. The little two-door monstrosity, which the local car lot had called the best car there, fired to life. Welcoming the fresh air, I cranked the window down as I made my way to Mama’s.

* * * *

“And you’ve never heard of her?” Mama and I eyed the letterhead, the address, and the body of the letter.

“Nope. She’s no long-lost relative of mine.” Mama scanned from over my shoulder. “But it has a legal letterhead, and it appears real.”

“If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is.” I tossed the letter to the center of the chipped Formica table along with the enclosed plane ticket.

“She might be leaving you a million dollars.” Mama smirked as she shoved a sandwich, a banana, and a bottle of water in a lunchbox.

“Or it’s an elaborate sorority prank.”

“You know, I always thought you were meant for more than this.” Her gaze darted toward Daddy as her voice dropped to a whisper. “It may be a case of mistaken identity, and even if the woman leaves you her most valuable cross-stitched quilt, it’s a trip you’ve never taken before. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Never say that when someone is about to board a plane.”

“That’s my girl.” Mama kissed my forehead. “Now I can’t be late, or I’ll be fired.”

“Love you.”

The screen door slammed behind her.

According to the letter, a video of the deceased reading her will would be shown at the funeral. Apparently, she wanted me to witness it.

A few days later, I boarded a plane to Nashville, Tennessee.

* * * *

A cold, murky thickness surrounded me. Seconds felt like minutes, and my lungs burned under the water.

Mud suctioned against my feet as I trudged forward.

Through the frothy murk, a rectangular box emerged, a casket of rotting wood and rusted latches embedded in green sludge.

My heart did a staccato against my chest, and my lungs burned deeper. My hands grabbed the wooden hatch on the coffin, and the latches broke free.

I pushed the lid upward, and the corpse’s hair lifted with the current. Through the settling hair, leathery gray skin stretched across a deformed skull.

My feet were trapped in mud. Though observing the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen, I couldn’t swim away. A large rock pinned down a decomposing corpse in a long white dress.

My hair tangled around my face as my hands pulled the rock from the box. With a steady jerk, they severed what was left of the rope preventing the body’s escape. I willed my hands to stop, but they wouldn’t.

I shook my head frantically.

The hands that had disobeyed me weren’t mine.

I tried to push up from the bottom of the watery grave, but a force too strong to fight compelled me to stand erect, motionless.

The hands reattached themselves to the forearms of the corpse. Skin and tendons snaked together and pulsated to create unity. The fingers wiggled as the corpse tried them on. The long slender fingers grasped the side of the coffin.

A sucking, popping noise pulsated from the corpse’s neck as it turned its head toward me. The eyelids popped open, revealing large yellowed orbs with white irises.

Thin leathery bands of flesh stretched back into a leering smile.

The rotting corpse rose from the bottom of the coffin with stiff jerky movements. Her face changed and death fell away, little by little, but not enough. She still looked like a dead girl, but she had been beautiful in life. Her skeletal cheekbones became covered in whitish-blue skin, and her eyes blacked out, hollow.

She no longer had difficulty moving through the water.

Propelling myself backward, I stumbled, and my bottom hit the muck. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. Dirty water filled my mouth, gagging me. I yanked free of the impossible suction.

She leaned in toward me with her arms outstretched.

With all I had, I flailed against the water to get away.

Under the black depths, a voice that could only be hers blasted through my skull as I reached for the surface. “You have something that belongs to me.”

My fingers scraped against the rough embankment, and jagged rocks cut into my knees. Grass and tree roots gave me anchor as I dug my way out of the pond. I gasped and coughed until I caught my breath. Behind me, the corpse stood motionless at the water’s edge, eyes now black and expressionless.

When I turned to run, a guy with no face appeared. He was the same sweet guy from all my recurring dreams, but this time he was desperate.

“I never belonged to her,” he said. “You have to forgive me.”

His face shifted in and out, giving me an unclear picture of what he looked like, but bright green eyes shined through the vision.

The landing gear skidded across the pavement.

I jumped awake.

The arms of the plane seats were slick, and my shirt was damp with sweat.

Recurring nightmares had found me any time I closed my eyes since I’d received the letter. I’d liked having only the faceless young man dominating my dreams much better. These made no sense.

No one seemed to notice my abrupt jerk awake. The little bald man on one side of me smiled, and on the other side, the elderly lady’s face pinched in irritation.

Had I drooled on her?

As others gathered their carry-on bags and made their way to the front of the plane, I wobbled to the restroom. A refreshing towelette, one of the first class amenities, wiped away the dream’s after effects, though sleep deprivation had set purple circles under my eyes.

Outside the airport, the sign-holder bearing my name wore a suit and a captain’s hat, and he stood next to a long stretch limo. Everyone around me gawked at the huge car and whispered. A few people pulled out cameras.

With my head down, I made my way through the crowd toward him.

“Miss Knowles?” the man said.

“Um, that would be me.”

“Jensen.” He bowed. As soon as he opened the door to the car, the first camera flashed.

Poor fool.

I was a nobody.

Jensen offered his hand to assist me into the limo.

The door shut on the faces of people who peered in at me, wondering who I was. I sank into the soft leather with a sigh of relief.

* * * *

The long limo took a left onto Rolling Hills Drive. It twisted and wound around the countryside for miles. The road narrowed so that another passing car wouldn’t have fit. Green-leaved branches of hundred-year-old trees armored the road. Clover and an array of wild flowers bordered the lane banks. It was a private little piece of heaven.

The window that separated the driver from the cab of the car was down, and the man peered back every so often.

“It feels like my first day at a new job where everyone knows me, but I don’t know anyone’s name. It’s awkward.”

“You’ll be fine. It won’t be long now.” Jensen gave a friendly smile.

To the right of the car, a black wrought iron fence inlayed with tall shrubs stretched on with no sign of an entrance.

“Yeah, the way gossip travels around the estate, I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone there didn’t know your life history. Ava did her homework, and we have some nosy staff members.” Jensen shifted his gaze between me and the road. “But one thing’s certain. Ava Rollins never made an uninformed decision.”

The gate came into view. I settled back into the comfort of the plush leather seat.

The driver maneuvered the large vehicle to the left into a gated entrance.

On both sides of the car, standing against the backdrop of a blue sky, two black gargoyles stood perched on top of columns made of chiseled rock. Their heads angled toward the entrance, but their suspicious eyes narrowed at me.

Monuments such as these were placed on houses or on gated entrances to ward off evil spirits. The frozen mythical creatures held a certain majestic beauty. The emerald stones in the socket of their eyes were too big to be real.

When the driver rolled his window down, late spring warmth accompanied by freshly cut grass invaded the car. He keyed in a code that slid the gates apart. A camera, nestled amongst the foliage, craned its neck, following us in.

I pulled a small mirror from my purse. Chestnut brown hair framed my tanned face. I had spent long hours helping Mama in the garden over this last week, listening to her hopes and dreams for me. She hoped I’d have more than a life working my fingers to the bone so a drunk could sit at home and vegetate on the couch all day. She wanted the fairytale for me, but those came from only hard work.

Flipping the mirror closed, I shook my head in disgust at the circles under my golden brown eyes. No way to hide those.

I knew that gate from somewhere. It’s curly cue design. I’d seen it.

We rolled past it as something that couldn’t possibly be a memory flashed through my mind—the gate being swung out and held by two people dressed in period clothing as a white carriage passed between them. The image disappeared before it was there.

As we lurched forward, the tree-lined drive blocked the view of the house. The car rolled over the old cobblestone edged by rows of pristine hedges. The car slowed to a crawl.

Limos and extravagant sports cars were nose to bumper, their rims and expensive paint jobs sparkling in the summer sun.

The temporary comfort of tinted windows dissolved.

Though disguised in fine suits and almost ridiculously frivolous dresses and hats, the people traveled toward the house like an infestation of cockroaches toward a known source of food. They all flicked disapproving glances over their shoulders as the driver pulled my car beside them in the same direction.

I sank deeper into the seat.

The driver adjusted his mirror on me. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re a bunch of snobs I’ll be glad to see go when this whole fiasco is over.”

Whoever took care of the grounds certainly did it with love. Every blade of grass had been intricately detailed with scissors, and the geometrically shaped flowerbeds set splashes of colors all over the front lawn.

We rounded a final bend, and the house soared into the sky. From the side, it appeared to have wings. It stood four stories tall. Like the columns at the gate, chiseled stone covered the house. Each one meticulously placed.

A staggering expanse of black framed windows covered the front and sides.

A bay window jutted over the front entrance.

The bright summer sun couldn’t penetrate the menacing deep black eyes of the house on the second, third, and fourth floors.

The driver pulled the car beside the cobblestone walk, opened my door, and offered his hand.

Out of nowhere, a little old man wobbled from behind the tall bushes on the left side of the property. The bowtie on his suit was starched to sharp edges that poked his double chin. He greeted me with a welcoming smile. Time had paved a roadmap of wrinkles across his brows and around his eyes.

A young guy with dark jeans and a shirt that fit him too well came from the front door, bounded down the steps, and headed straight to my trunk. He flashed a mischievous smirk in my direction while he was behind the old man, but when he was in the old man’s view, he straightened into a more serious posture.

“Take Miss Knowles’s things to her room. The master suite on the second floor.” The older man’s tone with the younger man was authoritative.

“Wait, the master suite?” The bellboy’s brow lifted. He ran a nervous hand through his blond locks. He reminded me of a misplaced boy-band member.

“As I said, the master suite on the second floor.” The older man nodded to the front entrance.

“But no one has—”

“I am fully aware of how often each room of the house has hosted company. Please do as I say. And hurry.” The older man glanced toward the back of the house and then to the front entrance again. Now more at ease, he turned his attention back to me. The elderly gentleman had a time-roughened voice. “Thomas Warren, head groundskeeper. Ava called me Thomas, so I hope you’ll do the same. Mr. Warren just reminds me how old I am.”

“Allison Knowles.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance.” He nodded politely, giving my hand a squeeze and returning it.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for your loss, but to be honest, I didn’t know the deceased, and I’m sure she didn’t know me.”

“Oh, she knew you, my dear. You may have known nothing of her, but no price was too costly to make sure she left none of your secrets buried.” Thomas gave me quick little bow.

“The last few family members could have scared the flies off a shit wagon. Looks like we finally lucked up,” the bellboy said with a country twang and a smirk. He gave me a shameless onceover and winked.

“Dalton Anderson Cobb, mind your manners. I swear, you act like a family of gorillas raised you.” Thomas glared at Dalton.

“Country born, country bred.” Dalton shrugged. He seemed harmless.

Thomas cleared his throat and stiffly turned to me. “Since Ava’s death, everyone has slacked around here. Dalton is no exception. This place has been utter chaos.”

As if on perfect cue, a crash came from the back of the house, and children’s laughter filled the air. Thomas’s handkerchief went to his brow, and he heaved out a labored sigh.

“I pull my weight. To prove it”—Dalton turned to me—“Miss Knowles, if you need anything, day or night, let me know.”

Thomas almost choked. He pointed to the trunk of the limo. “The luggage.”

“Just trying to make her feel at home. You know. Showing some southern hospitality.” Dalton flicked an eyebrow at me from behind Thomas. His flirty smile might have worked with a multitude of screaming prepubescent teens, but I wasn’t game. I’d have to find a nice way to let him know if he continued to flirt.

“Humph. I know your hospitality well. So does every other female employee here. Forgive his rudeness. Ava had a thing for taking in the local strays.”

“I heard that,” Dalton called over his shoulder as he took more bags to a cart he’d pushed from the cement ramp at the front entrance.

Jensen pulled the car around the circular driveway toward a group of outbuildings.

Thomas turned back to me. In his best tour guide voice, he continued, “Now, my dear, let us focus on the front entrance of the house. Ava had guests delivered to the front door, but staff used the side entrance that leads from the garage you see nestled in the trees to your right.”

The door was plain compared to the carved wood around the front entrance.

“As you can see, Ava hated being showy about her money.” Thomas chuckled at his joke, then straightened.

“So, I get the feeling she ran a tight ship?”

“We’re still cleaning up beer cans from the party we threw when she took her last breath. She chewed people up and spit ‘em out. It was something to watch. I stayed out of her way till she keeled over. I knew the way of the beast.” Dalton winked at me and went on ahead of us, still speaking over his shoulder as he pushed the cart. “She loved to keep people on their toes. Even in her death, she leaves us with a little mystery. What made her choose lil ‘ol you to inherit all her earthly belongings?”

I almost dropped my purse.

Thomas’s mouth dropped into a horrified O. “That’s privileged information that should have been kept till the proper timing.”

My voice faltered. “That’s impossible. This is clearly a case of mistaken identity.”

“Your name is Allison Ainsley Knowles, am I correct?” The crimson drained from Thomas’s face. He smiled.

I staggered. “Yes.”

“On her death bed, Ava Rollins’s last words were, ‘If you don’t make sure that girl is here, on this property, in the event of my death, I’ll haunt you till you die.’ And she meant it. Upon checking that name against the copy of her will, we found”—he stopped and whispered close to my ear—“that she chose you as the sole beneficiary of everything she owned.”

People of all ages, but of regal backgrounds, walked past us, their noses poked high in the air.

“Everything?” Cold chills traveled my spine and my hands shook. This wasn’t real.

“Everything. Upon the final reading of her last will and testament, the house, money, and business will be yours. But these vultures don’t need to know that yet. Half the women in her family are already going to pass out from revulsion when they see her reading her own will via video during the funeral. I think the lawyer already disclosed that much to you, am I correct?” Thomas didn’t wait for me to nod. “She liked you. There was something about you, she had said, many times, come to think of it. And you say you’d never met her?”

I shook my head.

“Well, then,” Thomas said with a friendly pat on my shoulder. “Dalton’s right about something for once in his life. Why you?”

“I have no clue.”

“In order for the will to be fulfilled, it states that you have to stay here for a full month. During that full month, you can try to answer that question.”

On an endless sidewalk, in raging summer heat, beside a house grander than anything I’d ever seen, I couldn’t make my legs work.

“Come, Miss Knowles.” Thomas offered his arm with an amused grin.

He guided me and my wobbly legs toward the entrance.

As we ascended the steps, the sun reflected off a silver necklace of a woman in the window above us.

I stopped on the cement landing just under the entrance of the house.

The woman’s hair was pulled into a tight up-do, but she didn’t wear a housekeeping uniform. The dress dipped dangerously low in the front, too dressy for daytime lounging. Come to think of it, the dress wasn’t from this century.

“Miss Knowles? Is everything all right?” Thomas scanned the fourth floor windows. Either he didn’t see it, or the woman’s presence wasn’t a shock to him.

“Do you see her?” I nodded toward her. Mama always told me pointing is rude. Manners would be important here.

The window was now black and vacant.

“See who?” Thomas’s countenance stiffened.

“I must be seeing things.”

“Do you think you’ll try to stay out the terms of the will?” Thomas pulled us closer to the house as I nodded to people who passed us.

“I think I want to hear them for myself.”

The cart parked inside the gothic front entrance was empty.

Dalton had lugged almost all my worldly belongings up the stairs in record speed.

“Come, now. Once you’ve seen the house, I think you’ll be more excited about the prospect of staying. The house is more expansive than it looks from the outside, so the tour may take longer than you expect. If we don’t get a start soon, we’ll cut into dinner. To keep you safe from the brood of wolves Ava called her family, you can dine with me and the house staff just after they serve the formal meal.” He sounded like a daddy. One I’d never had before.

Dalton appeared in the entrance and sauntered toward us with a flirty flick of his brow. “I can take her on a little tour if you get too tired, old man.”

“I’d die of heat exposure before that happened, I can assure you.” Thomas protectively pulled me from Dalton’s clutches.

He winked.

I jerked my head forward.

As Thomas and I walked around the flowerbed, toward the entrance, a dull pain stabbed my neck and suddenly intensified. I pressed my hand against my right shoulder and tilted my head. Odd. I’d never had tension headaches or sore shoulders with such a sudden onset.

Dizziness overtook me. The world closed in. The mulch-hugged flowers, stone-bound walkways, and perfectly trimmed hedges rippled in waves. As if a wind crashed into me, I took a tumble into the long rectangular flowerbed lining the front of the house. I almost pulled Thomas with me, scraping my ankle in the process. I landed on my back, unable to move.

An unseen weight pressed my chest, holding me to the ground.

Struggling against it, I cried out and rolled from under its weight, ruining more flowers in the process. I scrambled to get up but made a mess of it.

Thomas scuttled through an ocean of purple blooms.

Dalton beat him to me. Going against the previous impression I had, he was a complete gentleman. So far. He came to his knees to assist me.

“Are you okay?” Dalton reached out to me.

“Um, I’m fine. I thought I felt—there was—never mind.” If I told them, they’d think I was nuts. Sitting up, I waved Dalton back so I could catch my breath.

Snooty onlookers and a few staff members who had witnessed my fall from the grand entranceway stepped aside, clearing the way for a tall, male model to step into view.

My heart skittered to a stop.

This out of place character’s white T-shirt flexed across his folded arms, and his dark jeans hung low on his waist. A red strap looped over his right shoulder, suspending a weed eater. He never stepped out from the crowd, but the staff members directed their attention at him instead of me, their faces twisted with worry. He stood erect, motionless, staring. Wisps of brown hair shadowed his dark, chiseled features, as his green eyes narrowed to angry slits. Even at this distance, the odd color of his eyes stood out against the crowd. He only tilted his head as he noted the commotion Dalton and Thomas made over me.

Something else held me down in the flowerbed. Utter and complete shock.

It was him.

The guy from my dreams, but he had a face.

Was he breathing?

Was I breathing?

My cheeks burned.

Like staring at the sun, it was difficult to look at him for more than a few seconds. So I didn’t.

The maids turned me to face the guy as they pulled mulch from my clothes.

His anger transformed to something else as he scanned the flowerbed, looked to the floors of the house above me, and then back to me. He worked his stubble-covered jaw and balled his fist.

“I’m—I’m . . .