Copyright, 2016. Chapter One: Omens “I love it, Brad! Yes, I want the house. It's exactly what I imagined it would be when you told me about it.” Amelia Bronson gazed up at the towering house as it came into view through the parted oak trees along the winding gravel driveway. It stood, dark gray and hulking against the sunny landscape—like something out of a gothic romance novel women read in the 1970s. It only lacked a comely, green eye-shadowed virgin running from a man outlined in a lighted window. Still, the place called to her with its Greek Revival style and massive columns. She had always adored old houses and the character they held—nothing gleaming and new for her. Aged, dark, and menacing was fine. After all, it was just a house, not a person. People were the real things to be afraid of—not creaking old houses. This one had character. It almost seemed to breathe like a slate-colored monster, guarding itself and its secrets.
