Remembrance
Remembrance
A Supernatural Love Story
Avery Kloss
Copyright © 2018 Avery Kloss
All Rights Reserved
D2D Edition
Cover art by Avery Kloss
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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
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v1.00d2d
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Preface
Stomping on the gas pedal, the car sprang forward, although he had anticipated the move, coming to stand before it, leaning on the hood with his hands splayed. I pressed the accelerator harder, but it yielded nothing other than the smell of rubber and a loud, grinding noise, which brought forth a cloud of dust.
“Stop it, Brie. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I withdrew my foot, although I had no intention of leaving the vehicle. “Go away.”
He made a face, annoyed. “Let’s talk. You have my full attention now.”
“You’re a freaking vampire!”
“Eh, nobody’s perfect.” A wolfish grin emerged. “I could ask you what the hell you are. People don’t just vanish into thin air. That’s a nifty trick you got there.”
“I … didn’t know I could do that.”
“Let’s talk.”
“You’re going to … to eat me.”
“That’s an idea, but … ” he shrugged, “I’d rather pick your brain first.”
“And then eat me.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Get outta the damn car.”
“What guarantee do I have you won’t bite me?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Then I’m not getting out.” I dared him to challenge me, glaring at him. “Buddy.”
“I won’t bite.”
“So?”
“I won’t harm you. I could’ve let my boys feast tonight, but I didn’t.”
“Ha! The only reason they didn’t is because I made myself disappear. They were about to pounce.”
“I would’ve stopped them. I sired all of them. They’ve no choice but to listen to their master.”
“Will you answer my questions?”
“Yes, if I can ask a few myself.”
“And, I have your word you won’t murder me?”
“I watched you skydive from a two-story balcony. I brought you back. Now you’re worried about being murdered?”
“I was a different person then.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Get out of the car, Brie,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m doing this against my better judgment. If I die, I swear I’ll come back and make your life a living hell.”
“It already is.”
I did not have a response to that, my fingers on the door handle. Stepping from the vehicle, I faced him. I could always disappear again if he tried anything funny. “I’m out. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he muttered, motioning for the woods. “Let’s walk.”
“I don’t want to go there. It’s dark and scary.”
“You can more than protect yourself. You’ll be fine.”
“With you?” I giggled nervously. “Right.”
He drew near, his footsteps soundless, while my boots crunched over the rocks. I had to lift my chin to look at him, swallowing uneasily.
“You’re very different from the girl I … rescued the other night.”
“I agree. I’m … changed.”
“I’d like to know how.” He indicated a path. “After you.”
“Okay fine, but you better not kill me.”
“We’ve already covered this.”
I stepped into the trees, feeling the cool air of the forest, while a blood-hungry vampire trailed after me, his footfalls absolutely soundless.
1
“I know you won’t like it, Brie,” said my mother, as she steered the car up a tree-lined driveway. “It’s an old house. It needs a ton of work. You’re gonna hate the bathrooms. They’re a total throwback to the 1920’s. It’s … a bit rough, but it’s got potential.” She offered a weak smile. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“This was Dr. Jessop’s idea.”
“I know.” I braced myself for what I knew would come, because I hated everything about change, but I had little choice in the matter. I never had a choice.
“He said a fresh start would be good. I have my doubts, mind you. I told him it would probably trigger another episode, but he seems to think you can handle it.”
The pathway parted to reveal a startlingly huge structure, a Queen Anne Victorian with an octagonal-shaped tower, which looked five times bigger than the pictures on the Internet. I dreaded this moment all morning, and I prepared myself to despise the new home. Mom purchased it secretly a few weeks ago. Whatever happened from here on out, I was ready.
“They said the roof’s newer—newerish. It’s not supposed to leak.” She bit her lip, and set the break. “Gosh … it’s huge, isn’t it? Pictures don’t do it justice, but this is just ridiculous.” She stared out the car window, a look of awe in her eyes.
As I sat there, a host of emotions drifted through me. I had worked myself into a bundle of anxiety: stressed out from the move from Colorado. I said goodbye to a handful of friends, worried that the future would suck. Nothing ever seemed to get better, and I doubted the move to another state would help. I saw the pictures on Zillow, and knew what to expect, a house that needed to be torn down to the ground and rebuilt, the structure not fit to live in, yet … here we were.
“Good God, what have I done?” Mom giggled nervously. “This is gonna be a lot of work. It’s only 11,000 square feet. No biggie.” A grin e
merged that crinkled the edges of her eyes. “Plenty of room to spread out.” She withdrew the keys. “What do you think, Brie? Shall we have a look? You don’t have to worry. We’ll be in the hotel tonight. I haven’t hooked up the electric and there’s no hot water. Let’s have a quick look, then grab a bite to eat, okay?”
We had just come from the real estate office, where we picked up the keys. “I wanna check it out,” I said, and then exited the vehicle. A gust of wind blew hair in my face, the smell of pine and damp earth in the air. Although nearly in the center of town, the house situated on several acres, it felt entirely isolated. “It’s cold.”
“The gas isn’t on either. It’ll take a day to get that taken care of.” She closed the car door, and slid the strap of the handbag over a shoulder. “Are you all right?”
It annoyed me that she had to ask this—repeatedly. “I’m perfectly fine, Mom.”
“I know it’s crappy. It’s not new or shiny or anything—”
“Don’t care.” Rocks and dried leaves crunched beneath my feet, as I headed for the house. A gusty wind swayed the branches over our heads. “How old did you say it was?”
She sighed. “Late 1800’s, I think. It’s on the historic register. Some prominent businessman at the time built it, but his wife hated it. They didn’t live here long.”
I waited for her by the door, where paint peeled from the wood and the hinges looked rusted. “Can we get in?” I asked impatiently.
“Hold up. Let me find the right key.” A small manila envelope held several keys. “One of these are for the carriage house. I’m not even gonna think about that place for a while, but that’s even more bedrooms to play with.”
Mom had a plan. She wanted to open a bed and breakfast.
“Got it!” The first key worked, the heavy wood door creaking. “Bingo!”
A musty, mothy smell assailed me, the interior worryingly dark. “It needs to be aired out.”
“You’re telling me.” Mom flipped a switch, although it remained dark. “I don’t know why I did that,” she chuckled. “There’s no electricity. This is the grand entrance hall. Isn’t it grand?” A hint of sarcasm laced her tone. Our footsteps echoed in the empty space.
We stood upon wood floors that needed cleaning. A gust of wind blew in leaves, a few flying over my feet. Lifting my chin, I gazed at a crystal chandelier, seeing cobwebs. “Yeah, grand, sure.”
“It has such possibility, though. With cleaning and some paint, it’s going to be amazing.”
The sound of a vehicle brought our attention to the doorway. “Are we expecting company?”
“I don’t know.” She peered out, saying, “It’s Joan. I wonder what she’s doing here? Maybe she forgot something.”
My attention drifted to the staircase that flanked one side of the foyer. I touched the banister, feeling the oddest impression, like I had been here before.
“I’m so sorry to bother! I thought I could beat you here and clean up a bit, but you two sure are fast.” The real estate agent strode into the house, her perfume stronger than the musty smell. “I was going to open some curtains, so it wasn’t a tomb when you got here. There are a lot of windows and light. The previous owner had a migraine problem, so she liked it dark.” She glanced at me. “Hello, Brie, how are you?”
“Great.”
“You probably haven’t had a chance to register for school yet, have you?”
“That’s the absolute last thing on my mind,” I said tonelessly, disliking even the mention of it.
A nervous sort of chuckle escaped my mother. “We’ll do that on Monday. I want the weekend to get settled a bit. The movers are coming tomorrow.”
“Well, since I’m here, let me show you around, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Hila. You can call me Hila.”
“This is the grand entrance hall. You’ll have your formal parlor to the right and the music room on the left. There’s a grand piano, if anyone’s interested in playing. It’ll probably need tuning.”
It irritated me that Joan had arrived, not wanting or needing a tour, but mom and I fell into step behind her, trapped now for a while. I gave my mother a look that expressed how I felt on the issue. She shrugged in reply.
“The house was built by Lloyd Ravon in 1886. He was a successful businessman who made his fortune in timber and real estate. He lived here for about seven years with his wife and daughters. They moved back east, I think. The house remained in the family until the 1930’s.” She touched a doorframe. “All the trim is Douglas Fir. A master craftsman made it to look like mahogany. I assume it came from a mill in Portland or San Francisco. Everything in those days was shipped in by steamer.”
“The floors need to be redone,” commented mother.
“Yes, but that’s easy. They’re in fine shape. Just some sanding and stain should do the trick. I’ve got information on local handymen who can help. The prices around here are pretty reasonable.”
We ventured down a darkened hallway, which led to the kitchen, the room adorned in white cabinets and modern appliances.
“This was remodeled in the 80’s, as you can see.” Joan pulled on the blinds over the sink, light pouring into the room. “Everything works, even the microwave.” She offered a smile. “I know it’s rather dated.”
“I expected it.” Mom left her purse on the counter, eyeing the room. “It’s a good size. A big table over there.” She pointed. “A china cabinet there.” She nodded. “I can make it work. We repaint. Get rid of the wallpaper. Maybe replace the cabinets and counters. It’s a good space.”
I snorted. “So much for open concept.” We had watched enough HGTV together lately—our new favorite hobby. “Rip out all the walls and get rid of the popcorn ceiling.” I tried to sound like one of the hosts from our favorite show. “Shiplap,” I giggled.
Joan glanced up. “That wasn’t an 1880’s feature. I think they added that in the fifties.” She shuddered slightly. “I don’t blame you for hating the popcorn look.”
“The inspector said there wasn’t asbestos, thank God. I’m not moving walls. I don’t want to tear anything down. I love the character of the place. Some cosmetic changes and new toilets is what I’m thinking.”
“Of course.” Joan forced a laugh. “That’s all you need. The plumbing and electrical were redone in the 90’s. They did some abatement then. It’s all in working order.”
“I’m gonna go look around.”
“Open the drapes while you’re at it, please.”
“Sure.” I didn’t need a personal tour, knowing the second floor held five bedrooms. I had the oddest inkling about which room I would choose, taking a creaky set of stairs that ran off the kitchen.
A dirty window offered little light on the landing. The hallway spanned the entire length of this part of the house with doors on either side. A few remained open, which brought in light, but a musty smell lingered, with a hint of mold. I doubted then the roof had been fixed. Perhaps it was a plumbing issue? In the doorway of the bathroom, I stopped to stare at it. A clawfoot tub with a shower stood before a window, although without a curtain. White tile covered the floor with small back accents and white cabinets.
Was this the only bathroom on this floor?
Opening a door, I glanced into a bedroom, which appeared cavernous, with an octagonal-shaped set of windows belonging to the middle portion of the tower. An ornate marble mantel took up most of one wall, while faded wallpaper added color to the room, the design of red roses.
“There you are.”
I jumped, my mother startling me. “I think—”
“I know you hate it. I’m sorry.” She strode into the room, tossing aside the heavy drapes, which brought in light. “So much the better. Once we get these curtains outta here, it’ll be awesome.”
I heard myself saying, “I don’t hate it.” I had fully expected to dislike the house, the very idea of living in this backwater town aberrant, but … I did not feel that way now, which was odd.
Joa
n appeared, shattering our privacy. “You’re going to love Clatskanie. I know you are. It’s quiet and peaceful and wonderful. Everyone knows everyone here. I can introduce you to everyone. You’re just going to love it.” She eyed the room. “This is the bigger of the bedchambers. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
The size of it would drown my bed, but it hardly mattered. “I’ll take this one.”
Mom blinked, not having expected that. “You will?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged, gazing at the small chandelier that hung in the center, seeing the silvery outlines of an intricate spider web. “It’ll be fine.” I had surprised her with that response, mostly because it was so unlike me. I didn’t hate the house, not at all. There was something about it … that felt oddly like home.
It was like I had been here before.
2
“Oh, my God. I didn’t think I’d ever get rid of her.”
After wandering around the first and second floors, I could not muster up the courage to venture to the attic. “Yeah, she was … persistent.”
“You hate it, don’t you?” Mom sucked in a long breath, bracing for my response.
It bothered me that she felt she had to walk around on eggshells, treating me with kid gloves. “It’s … interesting. I don’t hate it. You can quit worrying.”