“Flashlights?”
“Yup,” he said, shimmying into a pair of loose-fitting workout shorts. Silently I lamented seeing his cute ass disappear. “Half this place still isn’t wired for power yet. We’re gonna need em’.”
A minute later we were back in the hallway, getting ready to explore. Bryce was eager and anxious. I couldn’t help but grin back at him, his smile was that infectious.
“You ready?”
He held his hand out, and I took it readily. His touch was warm and welcome. As our fingers intertwined, I was reminded sharply of my time beneath the blanket with Camden.
Camden…
I hadn’t liked the look in his eye, right before he left. It was more than awkwardness, more than guilt. It was almost… a sort of pain.
“Hey, do you think Camden’s alright?”
I asked the question casually, hoping Bryce wouldn’t read too much into it. He let out a short laugh.
“Why, did that asshole do something to you?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Nothing like that.”
“Walk around without a towel or something? He’s been known to do that.”
“No,” I chuckled, taking a moment to enjoy that little picture in my mind. “Definitely not.”
“Because I’ll break his ass if he—”
“Relax,” I smiled, trying to make light of it. “It’s just, well, I saw him earlier and he seemed… sad.”
“He’s a little moody sometimes,” Bryce shrugged. “But overall he’s pretty solid. Maybe he just had a bad day or something.”
“Maybe,” I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know he dipped into the Army for a few years, while Roderick and I set up the company,” Bryce went on. “Infantry. Airborne.”
“Wow.”
“Served two tours in Afghanistan.”
Bryce’s disposition had gone from wanting to break his friend’s ass to his voice being filled with profound respect. We walked slowly, side by side, our flashlights bouncing as we moved down the wide, wood-paneled hallway.
“He okay from it?” I found myself asking.
“I think for the most part he is,” Bryce assured me. “Roderick and I still aren’t exactly sure what he did over there, but whatever it was definitely changed him. He’s still the same happy-go-lucky guy we grew up with, only now he’s got this strange sort of edge to him as well.”
Bryce paused for a moment, maybe searching for the right words. Still, I knew what he meant. Camden was fun, funny, cooler than hell, but there was definitely another layer. A detached sort of dangerousness to him that you only picked up on once you’d been around him a while.
“Anyway,” his eyes lit up again. “Wanna go scare up some ghosts?”
The grand staircase stretched out before us, leading down to the lower chambers. Bryce was already gravitating toward it.
“And what if they scare us?” I mused.
“Then you’ll protect me,” he laughed, pulling me along.
Eight
KARISSA
For the better part of the last year I’d worked on this mansion. Collating and procuring crews. Facilitating the demolition of what needed to go, and the construction of what would take its place. Everything in between was restoration, from the Italian marble floors to the rare woods and mosaics. From the French-style archways and flying buttresses to the panes of colorful lead glass that made up the arcade walkways. All of it — right down to the tree-shaded footpaths that wandered the gardens — was within the scope of my responsibility, alone.
But I’d never seen the place like this.
Bryce pulled me hurriedly but excitedly through the shadows of the ancient manor, like it were some great museum about to close. It was like he wanted to see everything. Show me every dark nook and dust-filled crannie, and tell me exactly what he knew about each of them.
Mostly though, I was more interested in him.
As breathtaking as the manor once might’ve been, Bryce was a thousand times more beautiful. He was lean and athletic, but still broad and strong. He had the chiseled jawline of a handsome Greek statue, and the sharp, angular features that always defined a man as undeniably handsome.
And his body…
My God, his body!
Unlike the ancient manorhouse, Bryce was still in his prime. His two ripped arms dangled from granite shoulders, and his back tapered down in a ‘V’ to his waist.
“This was the music room,” he told me, letting go of my hand so he could gesture grandly. “Guests from all over used to gather in this room and make beautiful music here.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Really?”
“Yes,” he breathed, missing the joke. “The gilt coffered ceiling is lined with silver and gold, and the fireplace is Calacatta marble.”
Right now the marble was filthy, and the ceiling was soot-covered from a partial fire that took place in the nineteen thirties. I knew all this because he’d told me about it three rooms ago.
“There was a piano here,” he told me. “And over there, a harpsichord.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“We found the frames of some furnishings when we first took the place over,” he went on, “but they were too far gone. Too worm-eaten and decrepit to try fixing up.”
“Speaking of that…” I said, tracking the beam of my flashlight around in a circle. “You still haven’t told me why you’re fixing this place up.”
“You mean why you’re fixing this place up.”
“Yeah. That.”
Bryce shrugged his well-tanned shoulders. “This is our retirement,” he said simply. “The plan is to create a beautiful venue. We’ll host events. Rent out the rooms. Turn this place into a money-making machine, and sell off the other business so we can focus on this one.”
“I know all that,” I said with a smirk. “I mean, what made you guys throw in and buy this crazy place to begin with?”
He didn’t answer, and I found that curious. I’d asked the same question of Roderick and Camden over the course of my employment. Both times, I’d received a similar response.
“Hey… you still with me?” I joked. “Or did the ghosts get you?”
He was looking up at a painting of a beautiful blonde-haired woman. Unlike the other paintings in the room this one was clean and almost fresh. Untouched by soot.
“She’s pretty, huh?” I asked.
The woman was dressed in