Until now.
Now the Mansion and Gothel fortune are in the hands of accused murderess Bonnie Higby.
Rapunzel’s mouth dropped. Murderess?
Bonnie Higby’s parents died when gas in their home caused them to asphyxiate. There was no leak. The oven had been turned on, the pilot light extinguished. Bonnie happened to be spending the night at a friend’s house. Happened to be. While it never could be proved that Bonnie killed her parents, there was much suspicion and speculation. There were rumors of heavy abuse by Bonnie’s parents.
When she managed to snag über-eligible bachelor Nigel Gothel, the world was stunned. When three short years after their marriage Nigel died in a hiking accident with his wife in the Cascade Mountains near their home, Bonnie once again became a suspect. However, with no witnesses to prove he hadn’t slipped as Bonnie claimed, she was once again released.
And that’s when things got really weird.
After Nigel’s death, and with no other heir apparent, the fortune fell to Bad Bonnie. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call her Mad Bonnie. Mad Bonnie, who lives like a hermit, consults mediums, and holds séances. There have even been rumors of witchcraft possibly being dabbled in by her. In between all of her extracurricular activities, Mad Bonnie builds.
Yes, that’s right. She builds. There is always construction on the sprawling mansion. Rumors abound that the construction is almost constant and is also useless. A previous construction worker claims he personally worked on stairways that go nowhere and doors that open into walls. And always, he claims, with six workers total.
Clearly Mad Bonnie is obsessed with the number six. Six workers on crew at all times, working six hours, six days a week. Doors must have six panels, windows either six panes or six windows per room. Everything must be measured in increments of six. For example, a room must be twelve, eighteen, twenty-four feet across. Anything divisible by six. Ceilings are twelve feet. And those that weren’t have been modified at great expense.
The biggest mystery is the great tower. Built eighteen years ago, this tower is rumored to house a girl—perhaps Mad Bonnie’s daughter? Although no one knows of the birth of any child to the woman, other than the child she miscarried. Workers have reported seeing a figure in the high window on rare occasion. Perhaps she’s a ghost of one of the past Gothel wives. There is much speculation about her, but not a thing that’s been substantiated—much like Mad Bonnie’s murders.”
Rapunzel’s stomach churned. It was too much. She might pass the whole thing off as complete bunk—if she hadn’t been told the story by her mother about Vedmak.
If she hadn’t seen the black room of sixes.
If she hadn’t seen for herself the stairways and doors.
If she weren’t the ghost girl.
She shut her computer off. Fane knew all of this—he told her not to Google her house, which meant he’d known what she’d find. She stood and left the cove. Her gaze caught on the bowl of apples—the bowl that was always required to have six apples.
She went into her room, passed through to the bathroom, and for the first time in her life, threw up.
chapter
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27
.**
Rapunzel ignored the repeated messages left on her Facebook page by Fane. He was worried again. She knew that and felt bad. She couldn’t face him, not now, not knowing what she did. It was hard enough facing her mother, pretending all was well.
Her mother sensed something was wrong.
“You’re feeling ill again, aren’t you? That’s it. I’m canceling my trip.”
“No,” Rapunzel said quickly. She needed some time alone. “Really, Mother, I feel fine.” She smiled widely. “I’m just a bit worried about a test I have coming up. I’ll use the time while you’re gone to study and it’ll be fine. I promise.”
Her mother looked askance at her. Rapunzel perked up and acted as normal as possible for the next few days until her mother was convinced she was fine.
The day before her trip, her mother broached the subject of Cook.
“I’m giving her the time off. No sense in having someone in the house, spreading around germs unnecessarily.” She tucked a strand of Rapunzel’s hair behind her ear, soothing her hair as she always did.
“That’s a good idea,” Rapunzel replied, not mentioning that it had been her own idea originally.
“Do you still have the cell phone?” Gothel asked, as if just realizing she hadn’t taken it back previously.
“Yes.” Rapunzel tried to still her hammering heart. Would her mother ask for it and see her texts to Fane?
“Good,” she said. “Make sure you charge it. I’ll call you each evening.”
“At six?” Rapunzel asked facetiously, biting her tongue against the bitterness.
Her mother didn’t comment, simply answered in the affirmative. Of course she didn’t ask to see or check the phone. She had no reason to believe that Rapunzel would do anything else with it. Who would she call?
Her mother left after making sure Rapunzel was well stocked with food. The day she left, Rapunzel considered staying in bed all day. She was depressed. She pushed herself out of bed and walked to her only window. It was a Sunday morning in November, and the gray, overcast skies outside matched her mood. She hadn’t seen Angel in a couple of weeks, and while she was glad the little bird had gone south, she missed her only friend—besides Fane. But she’d cut him out of her life now as well. She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
Moving back into the main room, she glanced at the door, wondering if it was unlocked. She was alone, after all, for six days. She could see the rest of the house, see for herself the craziness of Bonnie Gothel. She twisted the door handle—locked. Of course.
She tried to remember how Fane had gotten the handle off before with the screwdriver. Not that she had a screwdriver. Even if she did, she wasn’t sure she could do it. She squatted and examined the handle. The screws had some kind of x-looking indent in the center.
She went into her kitchen area and pulled open the utensil drawer. Then she glanced down at herself. She still had her pajamas on. She couldn’t wander the house in her pajamas. And why not? she thought. There wasn’t anyone else here, what difference did it make? In fact, why did she ever get dressed, to only see her mother? Surely her mother didn’t care how she appeared.
She sifted through the contents of the drawer, trying to find something that would work. She had nothing that mimicked the shape of the indent. She picked up a sharp knife, wondering if the pointed end would work.
Returning to the door, she knelt and stuck the point of the knife in, twisting futilely. Her head dropped, defeated, but snapped back up when she heard movement on the other side of the door. Had her mother decided to stay home after all? Or Cook? Or was it someone else . . . She scuttled away from the door, not sure what to do as she heard a scraping noise against the door. Her heart pounded wildly. She held the knife up defensively, then realized that if it were her mother she wouldn’t be able to explain holding a knife like a weapon. She hid it behind her back as the door handle began to turn. She pushed against the wall, watching.
The door opened slowly. It wasn’t her mother. Her mother never entered so stealthily—at least, she didn’t think so. Heat flooded Rapunzel as her nerves jumped, and she brought the knife up again. A foot stepped past the door—a man’s foot, and she caught her breath.
“Rapunzel?”
The sound of Fane’s voice followed by his head coming around the door brought a tidal wave of relief washing over Rapunzel. She dropped the knife and ran forward, startling Fane who’d been looking the other way. She threw herself against him, nearly knocking him over. His arms came around her as she clung desperately to him.
“Whoa, Rapunzel! Are you okay? What’s going on?” He pushed her away from him far enough to look at her, see the panic on her face before pulling her back into his arms. “What happened?”
She shook her head,
realizing how ridiculous she behaved, and moved away from him, wiping the tears of relief from her cheeks. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I was just . . . why are you here? How did you get in?”
He lifted one brow. “How do you think? And the why should be equally obvious.” He stepped forward and took both her hands in his. “I’ve been worried about you. Why haven’t you answered any of my messages, or been on Skype? I thought maybe you were sick again. I thought . . .”
Rapunzel shook her head and pulled her hands from his. She turned away, moving to sit on the couch. He followed, but instead of sitting he squatted before her.
“What’s going on, Rapunzel?”
She wanted to lie, tell him nothing was wrong. She wanted to tell him to go away and never come back. But she couldn’t. She looked at him, overwhelmed with how much she’d missed him. She wanted to ask him to take her from this tower and hide her from her crazy reality instead.
“I thought someone was breaking in,” she said. “I was scared.”
“I’m so sorry. I told you I was coming, but maybe . . . I guess you didn’t read my messages, huh?”
Rapunzel shook her head.
When Rapunzel didn’t say anything, he continued. “I suppose you didn’t want me to come, but I had to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry for scaring you. I should . . . I should go now.” He stood and moved toward the door.
She should let him go.
“Wait!” she said as he opened the door. He turned back. “Don’t go. Please.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded, and he walked back to sit next to her. “Are you mad at me for something?” he asked.
Her mouth dropped. “Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?”
“Well, you haven’t answered any of my messages, and you seem . . . sort of distant, I guess.”
She swallowed and decided to just tell him.
“I Googled some things,” she began.
His face changed, understanding crossing his eyes. “You Googled your house?” he asked. She nodded. “You shouldn’t have done that, Rapunzel. The Internet is full of lies and stories that people make up just to get people to read them.”
Rapunzel shook her head sadly, glancing at her wringing hands. “They weren’t all lies, Fane. You know that as well as I do.” When he didn’t say anything, she said, “You can go if you want. You must think . . .”
“I must think what?” She looked up at him. “Rapunzel, all of that crap is nothing new to me. Do you remember when you first told me who you were?” She nodded. “I didn’t believe you because I believed all of that. But now I know that you aren’t a ghost. That’s when I figured most of those stories had to be untrue.”
“You think they’re untrue?”
He shrugged. “Well, some of them have to be. Right?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “There are things . . . I mean, it’s true about all the construction, and the stairs and doors that go nowhere. And the sixes. You saw the room. But there’s more.” Fane waited. “I didn’t think anything of it until I read the stories.” She stood and walked over to the bowl of apples, picking one up. “I’m required to always keep six apples in here. She comes every night at six for dinner. I have six forks, spoons, and knives in the drawer. Six glasses in the cabinet, and six plates and bowls. If she’s in town, everything in the fridge and pantry are stocked in multiples of six.” She stopped as a new thought struck her. “She’s been out of town twice—for six days each.”
Fane stood and crossed the room, pulling her into his arms again. She hadn’t realized how much she shook until he held her.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Help me find the truth,” she said.
“Okay. I can do that. Or try, anyway.”
Rapunzel relaxed against him.
“Rapunzel?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a knife on the floor near the sofa?”
She gave a dry laugh. “I was trying to use it to break out of the room,” she said. “And then it was my defense when I heard you outside the door.”
Fane’s laughter rumbled beneath her ear. “Were you planning to scratch me with it?”
She shoved him away. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“We have got to get you a better arsenal.” Fane sobered. “You wouldn’t have gotten out, Rapunzel. Not only was the handle locked, the hook was latched.”
Rapunzel thought about that, about what it meant. She’d been truly locked in. Why?
Suddenly she remembered she was still in her pajamas. Embarrassment flooded her and she brought her hands to her cheeks.
“What?” Fane asked at her gesture.
“I’ll be back,” she said, turning and hurrying into her bedroom. She closed the door and quickly dressed, brushed her teeth and braided her hair, cursing the amount of time it took to tame the heavy length. She felt much better when she reemerged from the room.
“How did you know it was safe to come into the house?” Rapunzel asked.
“I watched for your mother to leave.”
“Oh.” He must have been really worried, she decided. Someone worrying about her so much caused a little bloom of warmth in her chest. “Did you see anyone else here?”
“No. There were no other cars here, anyway. If someone is here, they weren’t in any of the places I passed.”
“My mother told me she was giving Cook the time off while she’s gone. I assume that no one will be here all week. That means we can explore the house more.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
She nodded. “I need to find out everything I can.”
chapter
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28
.**
This must be part of the original house.”
They’d crept down the stairs and walked through the house a bit before determining they were alone. The alarm was set on the doors. Silence greeted them in every room. Rapunzel ran a hand across the wood log wall in the room they’d just entered. The ceiling in here was lower than anywhere else in the house. It looked very much like the inside of an old log cabin, so she believed he was probably right. Other than an old iron woodstove taking up the bulk of the corner and a fireplace covered with a metal screen, the room was empty.
“She left this part of the house intact,” Rapunzel said. “I wonder why.”
“It would have been left this way from previous owners,” Fane said. “They built around this. She isn’t the first one to have built onto the original house. She’s just the first one to have, you know, gone overboard.”
“How much of the house was here when she moved in?“
I’m not sure,” Fane said. “But we can probably find out.”
Rapunzel paid close attention to detail each place they’d been, which consisted of about twenty rooms today before coming upon the log room. Each room was built with six window panes, six panels in the doors, and six light bulbs or sources in each light in each room. Except for this part of the house. The more they looked, the more questions she had. Who was this woman who was her mother? She felt like a complete stranger.
“Check this out,” Fane called from the next room. Rapunzel passed through a small doorway that led into what must have been the original bedroom of the cabin.
A large log bed covered almost the entire floor space. A big red quilt covered a lumpy mattress. In the middle of the quilt lay a small baby’s quilt. While the big quilt was clearly aged, the baby quilt didn’t look so old. Faded pink material covered in purple elephants indicated it as not quite new, but definitely not as old as the red one. Looking at the quilt, a sense of odd déjà vu struck Rapunzel.
She walked over and picked it up. Before she turned it over she knew what she’d see on the backside—green material with little pink rosebuds.
“I think this must have been my baby blanket,” she said. “I remember it.”
“I doubt it,” Fane said. She looked at him questioningly and he p
ointed to the bottom corner. “It has initials embroidered into it. ‘S. R.’ ”
“Oh. Maybe not, then. But I remember it, so maybe it was someone else’s and then my mother used it for me.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “I wonder who S. R. is.”
“I have no idea,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” She spread the blanket back across the bed, able to put it in the same spot since it was the area with no dust. The rest of the house was kept very clean, but these two rooms from the original cabin were a little dusty. As she turned to follow Fane from the room, her toes bumped against something beneath the bed. She leaned down and saw an old trunk beneath the bed. “Fane, wait.”
He came back into the room, kneeling to see what she looked at.
“Score,” he said with a grin.
An hour later they still hadn’t been able to open it. The trunk was old, but the lock on it was new—and very sturdy.
“I don’t think we’re going to get it open.”
“Not today, anyway,” Fane said.
“What do you mean?”
“We just don’t have the right tools,” he answered.
They pushed the trunk back beneath the bed and left the room.
“How many rooms does this place have anyway?” Rapunzel said as they wound down another hallway. This part of the house was in good repair though definitely older than the parts they’d been in previously, and dusty like the log rooms.
“I’m not sure,” Fane said. “No one seems to know exactly. Rumor is somewhere around a hundred and fifty, but I’m not sure how true that is.”
Rapunzel stopped walking. “A hundred and fifty?”
Fane also stopped and came back to her. “That’s just a rumor, Rapunzel.”
“But probably true, right? Like all the other rumors?” Panic climbed her throat.
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