Shades: Eight Tales of Terror

by D. Nathan Hilliard

  The Danfords and their type ain’t people like you and me, Janie. Her grandmother’s voice rose in her memory. They live in a different world with different rules, and that makes them different people. Don’t ever forget that. Just stay away from those types because they will eat you up. That’s what they do. That’s who they are.

  Janie fought down a surge of panic and tried to banish the voice from her mind.

  She spied a lone figure descending the front steps to meet her and knew it was too late to turn back now. Her choice had been made when she came through the gate. Now she needed to follow through on that decision. She resolved to be polite but unpretentious, knowing full well she could never hope to truly impress these people.

  She could only pray her old car didn’t pick this occasion to die in a burp of blue smoke when coming to a stop in front of the elegant looking woman now waiting at the bottom of the steps. Please God, not this time. She might not be able to impress the Danfords, but the option of abject self humiliation remained firmly within her range of possibilities.

  Fortune smiled upon her and the old car behaved.

  Janie pulled to a stop in front of the mansion and stepped out.

  “Janie Galtz?” the woman extended her hand toward her. “My name is Jacqueline Danford. Welcome to Magnolia Rise.”

  Tall and grey haired, Ms. Danford managed to combine an air of formal propriety with just the right amount of down to earth sincerity. If Margaret Thatcher had been born in the American South and raised by southern gentry, this would have been the result. She managed to be both disarming and intimidating all at once. Yet at the same time the regal woman seemed to be honestly pleased to see her.

  “Thank you,” Janie responded and took her hand.

  She didn’t know if she were supposed to shake it or something else, and spent a mortified second wondering what to do. Ms. Danford solved her dilemma by the simple expediency of using the gesture to lead her up the stairs toward the front door.

  “Come inside, dear.” She smiled. “Don’t mind all the scurrying about. The place has been closed the past eight months and the staff is now opening it up and making it ready to live in again. I want to introduce you to Rosaline. She is eager to meet you as well.”

  Eager to meet me? Janie mused as she followed the woman up the steps. Why would she be eager to meet me?

  The girl craned her neck to get a better view of the stained glass that sat above the doorway, recognizing the magnolia flowers depicted in clever workmanship. Passing through the front door, she looked back to see how the window looked in the afternoon sun. She couldn’t help but marvel at how the artist had captured the same glowing effect with the pale flowers set against the darker green panels.

  “Yes, the stained glass here is remarkable.” Ms Danford noted her attention. “Perhaps later I can show you some of the more impressive works. The window in the library is my favorite.”

  “Thank you.” Janie nodded, and peered around the large foyer.

  She spotted servants dusting and moving furniture in the large rooms to each side before Ms Danford led her deeper into the house. They encountered more activity as they went. Twice they paused to let workmen carrying cables and electrical gear ease past before continuing on their way toward the back of the mansion.

  “I’m afraid moving in can be quite an adventure in this house.” Ms. Danford gave her an apologetic smile. “But we’re here.”

  She opened a door to her right and ushered Janie inside.

  At first Janie thought it must be some kind of private art gallery. It contained two simple couches and a fireplace. Other than that, the walls were covered with pictures. It seemed an odd arrangement for an art exhibition but then it dawned on her they were all portraits. This was some kind of reading room, with paintings of different family members adorning the wall. She had no time to examine them further for her eyes were drawn to the figure rising from the far couch.

  “Rosaline,” Jacqueline said as she entered behind Janie, “this is Janie Galtz. Janie, this is my daughter-in-law Rosaline Danford.”

  “Rose,” the stunning woman corrected as she approached.

  If Jacqueline Danford was the model of southern gentry, then Rosaline seemed to come straight from old Hollywood. Shoulder length, platinum blonde hair framed a heart shaped face that evoked comparisons with golden screen idols like Jean Harlow or Bette Davis. Athough she appeared in her late thirties or early forties, the woman dripped of glamour. She surveyed Janie from head to foot as she approached in a languorous prowl.

  Apparently, she liked what she saw.

  “My, my,” Rose Danford purred. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Janie offered, wincing internally at how lame that must have sounded. She never felt so over her head in her entire life. She hoped the look of indolent amusement in the other woman’s eyes was a normal expression and not a reaction to her.

  “I would offer you a seat,” Rose continued, “but the reason we met here was merely to show you something…set the stage, so to speak…before having our discussion over lunch on the east balcony. The weather is beautiful, and the view will be most relevant to the topic at hand.”

  “The topic at hand…”

  “I know,” the blonde chuckled, “we have been rather mysterious, haven’t we. It’s okay, my dear. We were simply concerned over the delicacy of the subject and didn’t want to cause offence. Just looking at you answers my question. If you’ll come over here, I’ll try to answer a couple of yours so we can put that awkward subject behind us and get down to business.”

  Rose gestured toward an oval portrait on the wall near the fireplace.

  So, Grandma, Janie swallowed and walked over toward the indicated spot, I guess you were telling the truth, weren’t you. I’ve seen this movie before, and I bet I know what I’m about to see.

  Her hunch proved correct.

  It wasn’t exactly like looking into a mirror, but the woman in the picture could have been her sister, if she had one. The resemblance was close enough that had Janie wore the same dress and hair style the two of them would have been easily confused.

  “Who was she?” Janie murmered, still trying to come to grips with this.

  “Who ‘is’ she,” Jacqueline corrected, “That is my daughter, Diane Jovanovich. She married a Russion oligarch and now lives in Moscow. This portrait was painted about twenty years ago.”

  “Oh.” Janie sensed a certain disapproval coming from the elder woman.

  It sounds like Diane is on Momma Danford’s shit list, she mused to herself, but that still doesn’t tell me what is going on here. Sure, I look like her but… Damn, I really look like her, don’t I.

  “While it isn’t as scientific as a blood test,” Rose laid a hand on Janie’s shoulder, “I think we can safely conclude a couple of things here.”

  “What’s that?” Janie breathed, still lost in the portrait.

  “One,” the glamorous blonde ticked off a finger, “whatever your grandmother or mother told you—if they ever told you anything--was most likely true. At least in the broad sense. Ronald Danford was your grandfather, which would make Diane your aunt.”

  Janie fought not to cringe as she glanced over at the elder Danford woman, realizing that also meant that Ronald Danford had been her husband.

  “It’s quite alright, dear,” Jacqueline reassured her. “This all happened almost a quarter century before you were born, and if anybody were at fault it was Ronald. Since we now know your grandmother’s claim was true, that means he handled the matter in a beastly fashion which reflects solely on him. I’m afraid I’m not terribly surprised. That’s a common trait of Danford men.”

  “Or at least it was…” Rosaline muttered.

  “Nevertheless.” The elder woman gave Rose an irritated glance. “For what little it is worth, I apologize on the part of the Danfords for whatever harm befell your grandmother’s good name.

  Janie now looked at the regal woman in astoni
shment. Was that what this was all about? Had they simply brought her here to apologize for an old wrong against her grandmother? And if so, why? Neither of these two would have had any part in that situation.

  “I…uh…thank you,” she stammered. “I’m not sure what to say. Like you said, this was all a long time before I was born. I’m sure it really doesn’t matter now.”

  The two women shared another look, and this time the younger took over.

  “Oh, it matters.” Rosaline laughed and led her over to the fireplace.

  She gestured up at a large portrait of a rather grim looking man in nineteenth century garb. He had white hair, a hawkish face, and deep set eyes that glared out at the world in a way that announced he was a ruthless, iron-willed son of a bitch and didn’t care who knew it. The little metal plate on the bottom of the frame identified him as Solomon Danford, 1840-1910.

  “It also means that you and Diane share something else but good looks. Since her brother Reggie died late last year, you two are the last people on this planet to have descended from this man, the founder of the Danford dynasty.”

  Janie stared up at the harsh, unforgiving face of her new ancestor and shuddered.

  “Oh yes,” Rosaline seemed to read her mind, “when it came to evil, black hearted bastards, our dear Solomon stood second to none. Trust me, the Danford men came by their traits honestly. But, now there aren’t any Danford men left.”

  “And,” Jacqueline interrupted, “since my daughter has refused to come back from Moscow, and take charge of the part of the Danford legacy that can only fall to blood relations, that has forced our hand to take these rather extraordinary measures.”

  “Extraordinary measures?” Janie struggled to follow. “You mean me?”

  This couldn’t be happening. Things like this only occurred in fairy tales, not in the real world of the 21st century.

  “Yes, dear.” The elder woman looked at her with sympathy. “I mean you. Assuming you meet a couple of criteria—which I feel you will—by tonight, you will be the sole owner of Magnolia Rise, and all the funds that are attached to it.”

  ***

  “Have another truffle, dear.” Rosaline gestured at the silver bowl of dark chocolate candies. “Chocolate makes everything better, and if you’re going to be rich you might as well eat like it.”

  Janie gave the large bowl a guilty look and tried to wrap her mind around what they represented. The chocolates were delicious, but she had almost choked on the second one when Rosaline informed her they were imported black truffles from France and cost over two hundred and fifty dollars per bite. It turned out the candies, cheeses, and wine on the balcony table between them represented more than her entire salary for the year.

  Wealthy people didn’t eat like this. People who were richer than God ate like this.

  The view from the balcony was fabulous. This side of the mansion overlooked a wooded creek that ran alongside the property, with a beautifully tended park and arboretum beyond. The rooftops and chimneys of other nice houses peeked above the trees of the forested neighborhood, and in the distance she could make out a new skyscraper being built on the northern edge of Houston.

  “So…” She tried to focus on something other than watching the glamorous blonde pop another obscenely expensive piece of candy in her mouth. “There must be more to this than ‘ Hey Janie, guess what? You’re grandma had a date with the right guy forty-five years ago and now you’re rich!’”

  “Actually,” Rosaline almost choked on her candy with laughter, “that’s pretty damn close to the way this works. This particular portion of the Danford estate, and everything that goes with it, can only go to a blood descendent of Solomon Danford. And since Diane isn’t interested, you’re now the main candidate.”

  “Everything that goes with it?”

  Something about the way Rosaline said that, almost as if she had tried to avoid it in the middle of saying it, caught her ear.

  What the hell was going on here?

  “I suppose it’s time we get to that,” Jacqueline announced as she came out onto the patio with a folder in her hand. “I’m afraid there are a few things you need to know, so that what you will be required to do next will make some sense.”

  “Required to do?” Janie felt a sinking sensation that the other shoe she had been fearing was about to fall. “What exactly is it that I will have to do? Are we talking a blood test? Or something else?”

  “Something else.” Jacqueline gave her that oddly sympathetic look she had used earlier. “We are already satisfied with your claim to this portion of the estate. Although some may wish to see a blood test later, it would be a mere formality at that point. I’m afraid we are approaching the part you may find strange. The part where you prove your bona fides to other…interested parties.”

  “Other interested parties?”

  Janie frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. Something was going on here, and it was something unpleasant. Just the way the two women looked at each other, then back at her, made her nervous. That feeling of being in over her head intensified again.

  “Janie,” Jacqueline looked at the papers in her hand, then at her, “I’m afraid your part of the estate comes with more than Magnolia Rise and its associated funds.”

  “More?” Janie swallowed at the ominous way the older woman had used the word. “What ‘more’ does it come with exactly?”

  “History,” the elder woman stated. “It comes with some very black and sordid history. The Magnolia Rise portion of the estate has been handled separately from the rest of the Danford holdings almost from the beginning. It has been handed down from one direct descendent of Solomon Danford to the next for more than a century. Some have tried to avoid it, while others have taken it on as a duty to the rest of the family. It’s a very private matter that we have never let slip outside the confines of this family. The portion that has fallen to you is one that few Danfords ever wanted, and the reason for that is that it comes with both a prophecy and a curse.”

  Janie looked from one woman to the other, trying to gauge if they were serious or not. They both looked serious as a heart attack.

  “A prophecy?” she repeated. “And a curse? You mean like supernatural stuff or are you being metaphorical here?”

  “There is nothing metaphorical about this,” the elder woman stated. “Although Diane is already vastly wealthy, you can be certain this is the reason she chose to turn down a one hundred and forty million dollar portion of the estate.”

  “One..hundred…and…” Janie’s mind almost locked up at the number. She had started to get used to the idea she might be about to become a millionaire, but this…this kind of thing went far beyond her experience. A hundred and forty million dollars? She found the thought of that kind of money a lot more intimidating than talk of prophecies or curses.

  But intimidating in a way that came with a hundred and forty million reasons to get over that fear in a big hurry.

  “Okay,” Janie held up a finger and regrouped. “A prophecy and a curse then. So be it. What is the prophecy?”

  The two Danford women looked at each other again. Rosaline lifted an amused eyebrow at the older woman, then Jacqueline turned back to Janie and answered her.

  “The prophecy is that as long as a blood heir of Solomon Danford owns Magnolia Rise, the Danford fortune will thrive. But should the estate ever sit empty without an heir, then the family fortune will wither and fade away.”

  Janie studied the pair as she mulled that over, searching for any sign they might be less than serious about this.

  “And you believe this prophecy?” she pressed.

  “I have too,” the older woman admitted. “We have to. My son Reggie died eight months ago. He was the last owner of Magnolia Rise. Since then we, as a family, have been trying to get Diane to take up the mantle but she has refused. And over the past six months our collective worths have all declined by almost thirty percent. Investments started failing, deals started falling
through, business started declining. In one case a cargo ship carrying a fleet of cars for resell sank in the Indian ocean.”

  And because of all that, Janie thought to herself, you’re so desperate that you are willing to look up an outsider that just happens to be the product of an illicit affair. Hell, I’m the bastard grandchild of your late husband and you’re practically sucking up to me. You really believe this stuff, never mind that the whole economy has been tanking recently. This is nuts!

  “Wow.” She chose to keep her thoughts to herself. “I guess I can see how that could be cause for concern. But what about this curse? What’s that all about?”

  This time it was the younger woman who answered her.

  “The curse,” Rosaline drawled while lighting a cigarette at the end of a long stemmed filter, “is that the owner of Magnolia Rise is said to be haunted by one of the victims of Solomon Danford.”

  “Haunted? Like, by a ghost?”

  “That’s what I understand.” Rosaline shrugged. “Remember, I married into this family and so did Jacqueline. But since we’re the two largest holders of the family fortune, we get to decide how things are handled. The prophecy says we need a blood heir here in Magnolia Rise for things to return to normal, so we’re making that happen. And since neither of us were going to get Magnolia Rise anyway, it’s no skin off our nose to see you get it.

  Nothing to lose and everything to win, eh? And all this over some kind of ghost story?Rich people really are nuts! Remind me to donate to the Edgar Allen Poe Society if this all works out.

  “I suppose that makes sense.” Janie reached for one of the little truffles. “But what can you tell me about this ghost, or curse? Is there a story behind it?”

  “I can tell you some of it.” The elder woman watched Janie examine the truffle, then take a bite. “It comes from over a century ago…and as Rosaline already pointed out, I married into the family so I might have a hole in the story here or there.”