by Ivy E. Gomez
THE CURSED MANOR
A PARANORMAL FANTASY
BOOK ONE
BY IVY E. GOMEZ
Copyright © 2021by Ivy E. Gomez
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced in any information storage and retrieval systems, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues, in this book are the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is completely coincidental
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 1
I couldn't run fast enough.
I could hear his footsteps right behind me. He's going to catch up soon. I quickened my steps. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, like the ticking hands of the clock. I could smell my fear . . . If I don't run faster, I will die.
Die! Die! Die!
The word resonated loudly in my head. On the walls . . . It's everywhere . . .
Die!
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Wake up, ma'am!"
I jerked awake and looked around me, momentarily disoriented. I snapped my head to the side, breathing hard, as if I just ran a marathon. I can feel the beaded sweat on my temples, matting my hair to my face. I must look like a nutcase—A middle-aged woman who had comfortably passed the night on a bench at the train station. Anyone would think that.
"Ma'am?" The voice came again. I raised my head to see a pretty woman frowning down at me. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her skin shone healthily, and her long hair cascaded down her shoulders like a pretty waterfall. Her big brown eyes were filled with concern and pity. I guess my current situation warranted being pitied by complete strangers.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" she asked gently. "You shouldn't sleep here like that. You could get robbed or something."
Like I had anything that anyone could steal. "I'm fine, thank you," I said, stretching my lips in the semblance of a smile. They ached . . . my lips ached from even trying. He'd hit me pretty hard on the mouth the previous day. "I was about to leave, anyway."
"I haven't seen your face around," the woman said with a kind smile. "Are you new in Rosewood Valley? Sorry if I seem nosy. It's a small town, and we are always in each other's businesses."
"I see," I said, hoping that my curt replies will discourage this woman from probing further, but she only smiled wilder.
"Of course," she said, as if that was the most normal thing in the whole world. "Which way are you going? Do you know your way around? I could give you a lift if you'd like. My husband is coming to pick me up in a few minutes."
How do I explain to this woman that I am running for my life? How do I tell her that I just boarded the only available train without any destination in mind? How do I tell her that I have nowhere to go? She just wouldn't understand. Normal people will never understand the choices people like me make to survive.
I managed a grateful smile. "Thank you."
"Sarah," she supplied quickly, with her smile intact. "My name is Sarah McCannan."
"Thank you, Sarah," I say. "I . . . my friend is picking me up. She would be waiting for me somewhere around. I need to go."
I turned towards a general direction and hurried away from the slightly unconvinced Sarah.
"See you around!" Sarah called after me.
I didn't look back. I just kept going as fast as I can, even though I have nowhere to go.
*****************************************
My stomach grumbled loudly, a reminder that I haven't eaten in a day and a half. I took another gulp of water and stared longingly at the rows of delicious-looking pastries arranged beautifully in the transparent cases.
I open my worn-out wallet and heave a deep sigh. I only have two hundred dollars. How do I survive in a place where I don't know anyone with two hundred dollars? I'm fucked, that's for sure. I notice the Cafe owner coming towards me and slightly avert my gaze. I could feel her getting closer, though. I braced myself and looked up as she got to my table.
"What would you like me to get you?" she asks in a strained voice while her thin mouth stretched in a fake smile. I kind of understand, though. It was the fifth time she had to ask the same question.
"I . . . uhm . . . if I could get another glass of water, I would appreciate it, please," I said with a nervous smile. That was the only thing I could afford. I mean, it was free. And if I leave this cafe, I don't have anywhere to go. I will keep ordering water if it's what it takes to sit in this cafe, till I can think of a way forward.
But I knew that my plan was already in the drains when I saw the cafe owner's eyes narrow into furious slits. She placed her hands on her hips in an accusative stance.
"You have been asking me to bring you water for the past three hours," she snarled. "Do I look like your personal maid? If you don't have anything to buy, please leave!"
"I . . . I’m sorry, ma'am . . ." I said, biting down on my lower lip, a nervous habit. "I . . . I guess, I should leave."
"Yes, you should," she snapped. "I already have a hard time making sales. I don't need you to come and add to my problems."
I wanted to point out to her that maybe her nasty temper was the reason she wasn't making sales, but I figured that would only make her angrier than she already was. My heart jumped in excitement as an idea popped into my head.
"I was wondering if you need someone to assist you here," I started slowly. "I could help you with—"
"Are you deaf? I said sales were bad!" she interrupted in an incredulous voice. She looked at me like I was sent by the devil's deputy to torture her existence. "With what am I supposed to pay you?"
"You don't need to pay me much," I blurted. "If I could just sleep in the shop after closing hours—"
"Go!" she snapped, pointing towards the door. "Get out of my shop before I call the cops."
I hurriedly stood, almost knocking over the chair on which I'd sat, earning a fierce glare from the already furious woman. She looked like she was going to burst into flames at any moment with how red-hot her puffy face looked.
"I am sorry, ma'am. If only you . . . I'll leave now."
I walked dejectedly out of the cafe. I looked around the quiet, sleepy street and wondered which way to head. I shivered slightly from the cool evening breeze, pulling my thin blouse lightly around myself. Then my eyes caught a tattered ad poster flying off a nearby post. It stopped right beside my feet. I bent slowly to retrieve the poster. My heart skipped with excitement as the words leaped out at me.
Housekeeper urgently needed.
Lodging and meals are included.
I didn't bother to read the rest. My eyes flew to the bottom of the ad where the address was stated. I urgently hailed a taxi and gave the taxi the address.
At that moment, I thought nothing of the odd look he gave me through the rearview mirror.
Fate was finally smiling down at me.
************************************************
I stared in wonder at the massive iron gate, trying to regulate my breathing. The cab driver had dropped me off a few miles before reaching this place. He had been very adamant about not going farther. I wonder why, though. The fact that I had to walk a few miles didn't diminish my growing excitement as I stared at the elegant stone mansion beyond the gates surrounded by an enormous expanse of l
ush, green fields. A mansion as huge as this must have been around for generations. If I got to live here, then I wouldn't have to run again.
I knew then that I have to do everything to shield myself in this manor. This job isn't just about making a living. It is the only way to hide from my reality. I shut my eyes and murmured a quick prayer. I made the sign of the cross before realizing how laughable I really was at the moment. I don't even believe in the God I just prayed to. It goes to show how desperate I was. It doesn't matter, anyway. I will kneel and beg if that's what it took for me to work here. I don't have my pride or anything to protect. I just want to live.
Maybe it's me, or maybe there's something about this mansion. It seemed as forbidden as it was enticing. And, perhaps that was me projecting my nerves. However, I could feel a strange chill in my blood.
I swallowed hard and gingerly pressed the button by the wall. I jumped a little at a beeping sound. I bit my lower lip and stepped back a little.
"I thought you were going to stand there forever," came a cold, detached voice through the intercom. "I was just about to call the cops.”
"I . . . I'm . . ." I glanced down helplessly at my trembling fingers. What's wrong with me? I haven't even gotten through the gates, and I was already stuttering like a fool. I swallowed hard and looked up. "I'm here to work as the new housekeeper."
The beeping sound came again, and then silence. I stood there staring helplessly at the tall, imposing gates. It just hit me that I might have wasted the last cash on nothing. It occurred to me at that moment I might have dreamed it all. Why was I so sure that I'd get the job? Why did I get in a taxi and paid all I had on me without thinking about the fact that someone else might have gotten the job?
I must have lost my senses for a second there. I must have forgotten that luck was never on my side.
I heaved a deep sigh and started to turn away when the gates started to open slowly. I stared in amazement at the widely opened gates, blinking in surprise. Was I supposed to go in or something? What does this mean? I could feel my heart racing a hundred miles per second from fear and excitement.
"I'm sure you don't want to lose a job that you just got," said the mysterious voice. "You should come in if you are going to be the housekeeper."
Chapter 2
I can't remember how I'd pictured the lord of the manor to look like, but it was definitely not a Greek god in black apparel.
I have never seen a man as incredibly beautiful as the one sitting in front of me. Everything from his midnight black hair to his shiny, black boots convey perfection and power. He seemed ageless like no number would be appropriate to mark his existence.
He radiates a strange, powerful aura that I couldn't understand. Maybe it was his piercing ice-blue eyes that seemed like they were staring straight into my soul. I couldn't look into those eyes . . . I had a strange feeling I'd be bewitched if I did. He was true to his name. Lucifer. Lucifer Amon. If there was a Devil, and he was as handsome as the days of old, he'd definitely look like Lucifer Amon.
"What is your name," he asked in that chilly detached voice of his that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. Everything about him seemed cold—Icy cold.
I shuffled slightly on my feet and cleared my throat nervously. "I . . . I am JoAnn . . . JoAnn Webber," I said, biting down hard on my lips. I had almost mentioned my ex-husband's last name. I bit my lower lip even harder when I noticed Lucifer quietly studying me. I fisted my hands to stop them from trembling. Everything in me quaked, though.
"JoAnn," he said as if he was testing out the sound. My name sounded foreign on his lips, like some breath of something strange and exotic. My name always seemed very ordinary. But coming from Lucifer's lips, it sounded . . . beautiful.
"Your duties are simple. You will clean and cook. You will stay in the outhouse and will only come here when I require your services. You will do as I say at all times and would not leave this property unless I permit it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Amon," I said quickly.
"You will address me as Lucifer and nothing else," he said, his eyes boring hard into mine. His gaze held me in place — frozen. I couldn't look away for the life of me. It felt like I was being compelled, and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Yes, Lucifer," I said with a slight nod.
**************************************
I let my mind wander as I chopped the carrots in front of me. I plan to make my special carrot soup recipe with plain rice. I hope Lucifer likes it. It's been a week since I arrived at the manor, and I haven't seen Lucifer since the first encounter. I know he's around, though. I can feel his presence. I have this strange feeling that he's watching me, and he can see my every move. That's probably me being paranoid. I should make some bread too, I thought absentmindedly. And, maybe some buns for snacks. It's not like I had much to do around here. I still find it hard to believe my luck with this new job. I hope this isn't one of fate's cruel jokes. I have learned the hard way that nothing in life comes for free. It's been a week of peace and dreamless nights, but why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm? Trouble isn't always far behind me, and it seems to be lurking in the shadows . . . waiting to jump at me the moment I let my guard down. I heaved a deep sigh. I shouldn't be thinking about stuff like these. My grandma used to say that one shouldn't cook with melancholic thoughts, that it'd reflect in the food. I wouldn't want Master Lucifer to throw me out because food tastes melancholic. I chuckled at the thought. Does it sound like something that Lucifer would do, though?
"You seem to be in a good mood."
I jumped at the sudden intrusion, almost chopping off my fingers in the process. I blinked rapidly, biting my lips nervously. "Hello, Lucifer."
His gaze flickered to my lips and traveled back to my eyes. His eyes were as cold as always and emotionless. "Hello, JoAnn," he said simply. Do I detect a trace of amusement in his voice? That's probably my paranoia in action. Lucifer doesn't seem capable of any other emotion than icy coldness.
"You'd be surprised," he said coolly, staring deeply into my eyes.
Did I say that out loud?! "Wh . . . what?" I said, blinking in surprise.
"I said you’d be surprised at what other emotions I am capable of. I could be as hot as I am cold."
I didn't say that out loud … Did I? I clamped my mouth shut and dropped my gaze. Why does it seem like his eyes could see into my thoughts? That wasn't possible, right? It occurred to me there and then that I like it better when Lucifer kept his distance. When I'm around him, I feel so exposed. I'm not sure I liked that feeling.
"I'm making carrot soup. It's a special recipe that my Granny taught me. I hope you’ll like it," I said, busying myself with the carrots again.
"I enjoy whatever you make," Lucifer said simply.
I know that he didn't mean that as a compliment, but my face crimsoned up all the same. Damn my pale skin. It doesn't take much to redden up like an overripe tomato. "Thank you," I mumbled uncertainly. "I will be done soon. Do you need anything?"
"A guest will be arriving at the manor tomorrow," Lucifer said.
"Really?" I asked, my face lighting up in excitement. I have always wondered why Lucifer lived alone in a mansion as big as this one. It's been a week since I arrived, and I have not as much seen the traces of another human being. It made me wonder who did the gardens, tended the stables, and stuff like that. I guess Lucifer wasn't a hermit after all.
"I will need you to clean and prepare the guest suite today. Also, whatever meal you make tomorrow, make it spicy."
"Got that," I said with a wide smile.
Lucifer looked taken aback for a second. His intense gaze trained on my face, making me shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. Have I made a mistake? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?
"Your dimples," Lucifer said slowly. "They are . . . pretty." Did he sound surprised? Like he couldn't believe the words are coming out of his mouth.
"Uhm . . . thanks?" It sounded more l
ike a question. I wonder how one man can be an ensemble of clashing ironies. How am I to react when he was complimenting me with such a detached expression? To him, it was more like stating a surprising fact. I knew this, but my stupid cheeks are still flaming hot.
Lucifer started to leave the kitchen but turned back hesitantly like he had made a last-minute decision. "Stay away from the main house, as much as possible while she's here," he said and walked out in his usual unhurried strides.
The visitor is a woman? His lover?
Well, that wasn't any of my business. Lucifer looked like someone who kept his private life very private, and something tells me that if I want to continue to stay here, I have to mind my own business.
************************************
She looked exactly like the kind of woman you'd see with a man like Lucifer; beautiful and elegant. Her beautiful black hair glimmered beautifully in the sun. She had large brown eyes that any man or woman would fall for without a second thought. She laughed at something that Lucifer said. She even had a pretty laugh, a tinkling sound that resounded in your head long after it has ended. Lucifer looked different around her . . . warmer? I couldn't place my finger on it, but his icy demeanor seemed to be down a few notches.
However, there was something off about this exceptionally beautiful woman. Maybe it's her shockingly red lipstick and the way it contradicted her whole image. There was this aura about her that I couldn't quite place. Something dark.
As if compelled by some invincible force, Lucifer turned his head toward my direction. His eyes grew hard. I lowered my gaze and hurried my steps. He must hate the fact that I'm intruding on his time with his lover. But I had to do my job as a housekeeper, don't I? Besides, he was the one who asked me to serve them both some juice in the garden. I quietly placed the tray on the table, refusing to meet his eyes or anyone else.
"You must be the new housekeeper," she said in a sultry voice. Her teeth shone unnaturally white against her red lipstick. "It's quite surprising. You are young and pretty. A far cry from Lucy's old housekeepers. You must have something special that he wants to keep for himself."