Destined Chaos

by Kate Allenton

  “I don’t know how my gift works. I don’t have an answer for you.” Hugh shrugged. “Come on, let’s get some air. Those guys might be down there for a while.”

  I nodded and used the railing to pull myself up. He took the drink while I hopped up the stairs and grabbed my crutches, heading for the front door. He opened the door, and I hobbled out, leaving my crutches resting against the railing while I retook the smoothie and sniffed it before putting it to my lips.

  I shivered at the breeze as I drank.

  Hugh shuffled out of his jacket and held it out for me to put on. Warmth surrounded me as the jacket drowned me.

  “Won’t you be cold?”

  “Nah, I have thick skin, and this is mild since the sun is out. We should see about getting some groceries to hold you over while all of the work is going on.”

  I didn’t want to buy groceries. I didn’t want to even be in this damn house. Maybe I should sell to Johnson just so I could move on.

  “Judging by the rate of all these problems, I think if I don’t sell to Johnson, then I’m going to be here a lot longer than I intended.”

  “You don’t need to sell to him just yet. You haven’t even heard my offer, and besides, you being here a little longer is the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  Maybe for him, but most definitely not for me.

  My smoothie was gone, and so was the granola bar, when the sheriff stepped out onto the porch where I was sitting on the swing with my foot propped up.

  Hugh was at the other end of the porch on the phone. He ended the call and walked over to join us.

  “What are we looking at, Clark?” Hugh asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet.

  “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

  “Hit me with the bad,” I answered.

  “We’re going to be here for days to excavate the basement.”

  “And the good?”

  “We’ve found some headstone fragments in the back corner of the basement. So, it’s likely that your grandfather wasn’t a serial killer but that Slaughter house was built on some type of burial grounds.”

  Some of those bones might have had headstones, but the ones behind the drywall were part of the new addition.

  10

  Hugh

  I wasn’t sure if she was about to cry or have a breakdown. She’d frowned at the news, and then laughter had burst from her lips as she tossed her head back. Clark and I exchanged a worried look. Maybe everything was just now starting to get to her and she was losing it.

  “Of course, it is,” Libby said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. “Why is this happening to me?”

  I took the seat next to her and rubbed Libby’s back. “What’s next?”

  Clark folded his arms over his chest. “Well, if the team's initial findings are correct, that those bones are hundreds of years old and this was a burial ground, they’ll need to be moved and laid to rest someplace else.”

  “Of course,” Libby said and staggered to stand. “Of course, my family built their freakin’ house on top of dead bodies. Out of all the land on this mountain, they picked this specific spot.”

  “Libby,” I said, standing next to her.

  She narrowed her eyes at Clark and rested her fists on her hips without responding.

  “Libby.” I took her by the shoulders to break the death stare she was giving Clark. I wasn’t sure how long he’d hold back his smile.

  “What?” she asked, and her shoulders deflated. “What, Hugh? Where are you finding the bright spot in this situation?”

  “There’s a ton. First, those people deserve peace…and…” I held up my hand, seeing the rebuttal waiting on her lips. “…and…you don’t know whose bones those are. They could be your own relatives from eons ago. Maybe your grandfather didn’t even know there were bones in the ground. It’s possible he never came down into the basement and whoever built the place might not have told him.”

  “Okay,” she said as if pulling herself together. “You’re right. I can handle this regardless if I didn’t see it coming.”

  “If you had seen it coming, I’d be a bit more worried that you had a serial killer in the family,” Clark said.

  I turned my gaze to his. “You’re so not helping.”

  He held up his hands and stepped back. “We’re going to be here for a few days excavating the bodies, so you might want to get a room at my mom’s inn for a couple of nights.”

  “Climbing the stairs is going to be an issue,” I said and nodded. “She’ll stay with me.”

  “I am not staying with you.” She gawked. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Sure, you do, and the sheriff will know where to find you. Consider this a mini staycation while they get stuff situated at your house.”

  Libby’s jaw clenched, and I watched as the look of resignation crossed her face. “Fine. The sooner they get the bodies moved, the better.”

  “Well, I’ll need to look into the law regarding what we can legally do and where to move them, but we’ll figure it out, and I’m sure the town will absorb the cost associated with it.”

  “Why would they do that?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “My mom is head of the town council. They’re always prepared for weird stuff like this.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost like they expect it,” I grumbled beneath my breath, wondering exactly how much my sister, Clara, knew and why she hadn’t shared it with me. “Let me grab your bag, and then we’ll leave.”

  I stepped into the house and grabbed her bag lying on the den floor and put it in the back of the truck, only returning to help her to the passenger side. When I had her settled in, and I was behind the wheel, she finally spoke.

  “If my birthday curse doesn’t kill me, then this mountain will.”

  “Birthday curse?” I tried to stifle my grin. “You believe in curses?”

  “My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother all shared the same fate. It’s inevitable.”

  “What is?”

  “They all died an early death.”

  I chuckled and backed out, and then I turned to find her looking at me with a deadpan expression. “You’re serious?”

  “It’s inevitable,” she repeated and turned toward the window, watching as we descended the mountain, which seemed to cause her distress.

  A curse on the Slaughter women. That couldn’t be real, but there was one person in town who would have all the answers, and I intended to get them. After stopping at the little store to refill my coffee, I climbed back in the truck and dialed Clara’s number.

  My call went unanswered. “Clara, this is Hugh. Call me back.”

  Libby gave me a sad smile. “Is Clara a girlfriend?”

  “Sister responsible for the tub.”

  She nodded.

  “Listen, I can stay somewhere else. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

  “Yeah, whose is it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who takes care of you?” I asked as I drove toward my house.

  “I take care of myself.”

  “Until you can’t,” I said, knowing I was pushing her buttons as I pulled into my driveway. I parked as she stared at the house.

  “I’ve taken care of myself all my life,” she growled.

  I unbuckled my belt. “I deal in facts when I’m looking at houses, so let’s get this on the table.” I turned to face her and watched as she twisted her fingers in her lap. Fingers I wanted to hold and tell her everything would be all right.

  “The house has issues but nothing that can’t be overcome with a little ingenuity and elbow grease. You’ve got a broken ankle.”

  “Hairline fracture,” she corrected. “Since you’re stating facts.”

  “Fine,” I acquiesced. “You have a hairline fracture. You don’t know anyone in town, other than Dinky, and the way I see it, we need each other.”

&n
bsp; “That’s questionable.”

  “Not really. I know the locals. I can get things done, and you can help so that the ghosts don’t scare everyone away while they work.”

  “And what do you get out of it?”

  “Good karma.” I shrugged and then grinned. “No, really.” I cleared my throat. “I get to win you over so that when you leave, you’ll see that I’m the best person to own that place. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “I’ve already had an offer.”

  “Anything signed?” I asked, holding my breath, hoping the answer was no.

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “He wants to turn it into a haunted attraction.”

  All the air escaped my lungs, and my mouth parted. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. “Really?”

  She nodded. “He wants to attract ghost hunters and ‘freaks’,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. She turned to me. “And use the Slaughter name and the bones in the basement as the marketing point.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Yeah, neither do I.” She grabbed the handle and opened her door and hobbled out.

  11

  Libby

  His house was nothing like I’d imagined. He was a bachelor, and wanting to buy Slaughter House would not be cheap. His house was small compared to the many places I’d lived.

  He and I would be tripping over each other fairly quickly.

  “I know it’s small,” he said as he grabbed my luggage from the back while I used the crutches to get to the front door. “But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in charm. It’s the whole reason I bought the place.”

  I could only imagine what awaited me inside.

  He used the key and shoved the door open and helped me over the threshold. The foyer opened up to hardwood floors from reclaimed and repurposed wood.

  “This is stunning,” I whispered.

  “Isn’t it?” Hugh said, gesturing to the couch. “Take a load off while I put your bag in the room.”

  I hobbled farther into the living room. Tan couches complemented the tile-inlaid tables. A bookshelf was on one wall, filled with books that covered history, business, and flying, just to name a few.

  A bar separated the living room from the kitchen, where stainless-steel pots hung from the ceiling overhead with recessed lighting. All the comforts of the twenty-first century while keeping the history of the woodwork intact.

  He returned from the back room.

  “How old is this place?” I couldn’t stop from asking.

  “It was built in 1892 by a married couple, Francesca and Harold Granger. One look at the place and I bought it.”

  “Let me guess. It had a solid foundation.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I could feel the love in the air. The house was meant to be lived in and appreciated. I knew it after spending a minute inside. Call it a sixth sense.”

  “So, no bones here, huh?”

  “Not any that are talking to me,” Hugh said and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re starved because I know I am. I’m going to whip together a meal, and I’m going to tell you all about my plans for Slaughter House and you can tell me all about your killing curse.”

  “Why does it matter about my curse?” I asked, hobbling to the bar to sit on a stool.

  “Mrs. Weller says you were born in Mountain View and there are others here that are special like you. We have all kinds of talents, so if there’s anyone that can break a curse, it’s the…what did your guy call it?” He used the same air quotes as me. “The freaks. Takes a freak to stop freaks, right?”

  I grinned. Hugh had a valid point, not that I thought it possible, but maybe. “If I’m around in five years, I’ll be more than glad to let you help me break it.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I had fifteen missed calls and even more missed text messages. The incoming call was from Beaumont Foundation. Just peachy. “Excuse me.”

  “Take your time. I’m cooking,” Hugh said.

  I hopped back to the couch and answered. “Slaughter.”

  “Libby, where have you been?” Champ Beaumont asked.

  “Sorry, Champ. I guess Slaughter House lacks cell service. I didn’t even realize I missed any calls.”

  “Wait. Are you sick?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you didn’t know I was trying to reach you. I pay you to see things that are coming, and you didn’t even know I was calling you.”

  I sighed. There was little I could do to explain the fog that was blocking my ability to know things. “I’ve had a lot on my mind with all the problems at Slaughter House. I’m a bit frazzled. That’s why I took a vacation.”

  “Right. Sorry. It’s just that the FBI wants to talk to you again. They’re asking for you, and they went to your address. Peter was there, and he told them that he lives there.”

  “Wait. What?” my voice screeched, causing Hugh to glance in my direction.

  “He said you asked him to move in.”

  “I did no such thing,” I growled. “Damn it. I knew I should have demanded my key back.”

  “It’s worse than that, Libby. He says that you just have cold feet and that this was his way of making it easy on you to move the relationship forward.”

  “Good Lord.” I lowered my head and rubbed at my splitting headache. “He’s delusional, Champ. Tell him to leave.” I lifted my gaze. “Never mind. I’ll tell him to leave. You just make sure he does.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to handle this? He’s starting to turn stalkerish on you.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I appreciate the heads-up. I’m dealing with the property, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “No worries. You call him, and I’ll have him out of your house tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “And then I’m coming there to help you. You just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I said. “I’m calling him now. Bye, Champ.”

  “Take care, Libby, and don’t forget to call the feds.”

  “Will do.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my palm. Ten messages were from Peter. In each one he was getting angrier that I wasn’t returning his call. In the last two, something had flipped his switch. The anger was gone and replaced by something calmer and more filled with weird questions about what side of the bed I slept on and what I’d want for dinner.

  Peter was starting to be a problem. One I hadn’t expected.

  “Is everything okay?” Hugh asked.

  “Yes.” I shook my head. “No.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You fly planes, right? You do charters?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shoved from my seated position and hobbled back to the counter. “I need you to fly me home to take care of some issues and so I can pack some more things. I’ll pay for your services and your stay in town. It’s hopefully just for one night.”

  “What’s in it for me?” he asked with a grin.

  “Did you miss the part where I said I’d pay you?”

  “How about instead of paying me, you tell that other guy that made the offer that you’ll need thirty days to decide.”

  “You want me to pay you in time?”

  “Yep. Take it or leave it. You’re frustrated with Slaughter House right now, and I don’t want you to make any rash decisions that could affect both our lives.”

  “You think I’m unstable?” I asked, raising a brow.

  “Unstable in a good way.” He grinned. Humor shined in his eyes. “So, what’s it going to be?”

  “Fine,” I answered. Calling me unstable took courage few men possessed. “Thirty days, but that doesn’t mean that I’m selling it to you.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a grin that suggested he had plans to convince me otherwise.

  12

  Libby

  We spent the night getting to know each other. He
mentioned some of his family as being of the special variety, much like himself. He had elaborated on little more than that.

  I had a deep sleep regardless of being in a stranger’s house. The house was quiet. Hugh even more so, and the worries about Slaughter House seemed to have disintegrated with distance. Was my fog like the cell service? Just being around Slaughter house made the reception spotty and hazy.

  The morning had been a whirlwind. He’d packed and made some calls and I’d just stayed out of his way. Every time I tried to help, he gestured to the couch and reminded me to prop up my foot.

  The plane ride in the Cessna had been smooth sailing. The views from the cockpit were breathtaking. I’d never gotten to sit shotgun in a plane before.

  I’d texted Champ before takeoff and asked him to send a car, and it was waiting for us when we landed.

  Hugh helped me off the plane and handed me the crutches. “Looks like you know how to travel in style.”

  “I asked for a driver and a Town Car. Not the limo,” I said, shoving the crutches beneath my arms. “And this isn’t typical. Trust me.”

  The back door opened as we headed in that direction. Champ stepped out. His smile fell when it reached my foot.

  “You didn’t tell me you’re hurt,” Champ said.

  “I didn’t ask for an escort,” I replied.

  “Looks like you brought muscle for your dilemma.”

  “She has a dilemma?” Hugh asked.

  “I don’t, and Hugh is my friend,” I said, immediately regretting the word choice.

  “Friend in a couple of days?” Champ said, gesturing to the limo. “You don’t use that word ever, well, other than with me. Should I be jealous?”

  “You don’t have many friends?” Hugh asked.

  Champ grinned as I shoved my crutches against his chest and climbed into the back of the limo with Hugh following behind me.

  Champ handed off the crutches to his driver and rounded the limo and climbed inside. “So, friend, tell me everything. How did you two meet? Was it serious? Let me guess. You two were childhood sweethearts.” He held up his hand. “Or, more likely, she’s paying you to be her new boyfriend so the last one will take a hint.”