Shadows of the Past: A Supernatural Suspense Mystery (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 1) by Nellie Steele (read aloud .txt) 📗

Grayson climbed out of the front passenger seat. He slipped his hand around hers. “Welcome home, Celine,” he said. He gave her another moment before saying, “Shall we go in?”

“Why put it off?” Josie said.

She took another deep, steadying breath before she pushed through the double doors into the entryway and the main foyer. The house had changed little; it was still as grand as she remembered with its wide stairway leading to the second-floor gallery-style hall. There was a large sitting room to the left. On the wall that separated it from the foyer had hung a large painting that now appeared to be missing. Grayson noticed her gaze fall upon the missing element. “The painting of Mina disappeared a few months ago, that’s when we realized there was trouble on the horizon.”

“Disappeared? You’re right, that’s not good news.” Josie answered him.

Josie saw movement coming from the sitting room and within a few seconds Charlotte Buckley-Stanton appeared in the doorway. “Celine! How lovely to see you again, I’m so glad you’ve come back. Won’t you please come in and sit down? Millie, good to have you back.” Charlotte approached Josie to give her a brief but sincere hug, slipped her arm around her waist and led her into the sitting room. Charlotte, Avery’s mother, was always the picture of grace. Widowed at a young age, she had raised Avery on her own from the age of eight and had remained a fixture in the Buckley house.

Charlotte led Josie to the sofa, and the two sat down, with Gray taking an arm chair across from them. “How was your trip? I trust you’re not too tired to have dinner with us?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Josie answered.

“We’ve had a long day, Char, but we can make it through dinner,” Gray said. “Would either of you like a brandy before dinner? I’m having one.” He stood to pour himself a glass from the drink cart.

“Oh, yes, I’ll take one, thank you, Gray,” Charlotte answered.

“No, thanks,” Josie said, wanting to keep her wits about her.

“Celine, I put you in your old suite, I hope that’s suitable?” Charlotte asked tactfully, trying to determine whether or not she would be sharing a room with her husband.

“It’s fine, Char, we’ll work it out,” Gray answered first.

“Yes, it’s fine, Charlotte,” Josie agreed.

Charlotte’s behavior would never betray the underlying trouble Gray had described to Josie. She was the quintessential hostess, working hard to make her household at ease regardless of the circumstances. The Buckley house could be crumbling around them and Charlotte would still be poised on her couch with a demure smile calmly telling her housemates that they should find the nearest exit.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head upstairs to freshen up before dinner,” Josie said, excusing herself.

“Of course. We dine at seven,” Charlotte answered.

Josie excused herself from the room and made her way up the massive staircase. She had no trouble navigating to her old room, finding it had also changed little. Henry had already brought her luggage up from the car; she found it sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. Opening it, she found a few personal items and carried them to the bathroom.

She stood for a few moments gazing into the mirror. It was hard for her to believe she was back, yet here she was. It was so familiar to her, so easy to slip right back into the fold. She had to make sure she didn’t stay in this house.

“Hey, what are you two doing over there?” a man’s voice yelled.

“Ah, hello, hi,” Michael said, waving his hand. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone? Do you realize you’re on private property? The ‘No Trespassing’ sign on the gate should have made that clear,” the man said.

“Yeah,” Michael said, looking back at the open gate marked with the sign he and Damien had ignored. “Yeah, I realize this is private property, but the gate was open. I didn’t see any signs. We don’t mean to intrude but we’re looking for a friend. The man at the hotel suggested we try here,” he fibbed. “Perhaps you can help us?”

“Old Bill Cunningham told you to come to the Buckley estate?”

“Yeah, that’s what Bill said. Here, I have a picture of her,” Michael said, pulling out his phone and bringing up the picture of him and Josie on the screen to show the man.

“That’s your friend?” the man asked, almost as though he didn’t believe them.

“Yep, that’s her,” Michael said. “Have you seen her?”

“Well, yeah, of course. I dropped her off at the house a few hours ago. She didn’t mention guests coming, though.”

“Oh, well, we were a few hours behind her on the train, she might not have known when to expect us,” Damien joined in.

“Did you walk here? If I’d have known, I could have picked you up at the train station. Or you could have had old Bill call me to pick you up at the hotel. Like I said, I didn’t realize you were coming, Mrs. Buckley didn’t mention anything.”

“Oh, no problem, the walk was nice. Like I said, I’m not sure Josie, ah, Mrs. Buckley knew what train we were on,” Damien lied, rephrasing Josie’s name to the name the man had used to add credence to their story.

“Well, no matter, hop on in the car here and I’ll take you up before I head into town.”

“Oh, no don’t worry about it, we can walk it,” Michael said.

“Walk it? It’s about a mile up to the top there. Nah, I’ll drive you.”

“No, really, it’s fine, we’re fine,” Michael declined again as politely as he could.

The man made a face at them. “Why are you two acting so sketchy?”

“Sketchy?” Damien said, with a nervous laugh. “Hahaha, nah, we don’t want to trouble you, that’s all.”

“It’s no trouble, will only take a few minutes.”

“Well, umm, it’s actually, umm… it’s getting late. It’s