The Writing Retreat(13)

“Oh my god. You stayed there?” Poppy’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“Nope, not me. I was way too scared.” He considered. “My cousin did once. He ended up falling down the basement stairs and breaking his ankle. Everyone said it was the curse.”

“The curse?” I repeated.

“That female demon, whatever her name was. People said she’s still there.” He cleared his throat. “You couldn’t pay me to stay there, to be honest. I don’t know if I believe in demons or whatever, but there’s definitely some odd energy in that house.”

“Uh-oh.” Poppy sounded gleeful. “I guess we’ll have to let you know.”

The houses and buildings abated and eventually we were surrounded by unending woods. I used the time for some deep breathing. Every mile we were getting closer and closer. Every minute that passed meant one fewer minute before seeing Roza—which was overwhelmingly exciting—and Wren—incredibly horrifying. It was so strange to balance the two, and they both revved up my system, causing a fluttering in my chest.

“The cell service is cutting out,” Poppy announced. “Is that normal?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He glanced back at us. “Real spotty up here.”

The undulating line of woods opened up briefly to showcase several long gray buildings. A figure stood at the mailbox by the road—a woman whose strands of loose gray hair flew out from beneath a furry hunter’s cap. I nudged Poppy and she looked over. The woman raised a hand, her plain face solemn but kind.

Poppy waved cheerfully back. “Who’s that?”

“That’s a nun, believe it or not,” Joe said. “That nunnery’s been there for two hundred years.”

“I love it!” Poppy watched out the back window. “How many live there?”

“There are only about ten of them now, I think. Ten nuns in that big place. But they live here all year round. Have a few cows and chickens. Make some real tasty jams that they sell out by the road sometimes.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” Poppy returned to her phone.

“They’re pretty cut off from the world, aren’t they?” I asked.

“They have interns in the summer.” Joe’s dark eyes alighted on mine in the rearview mirror. “College kids who help out with the gardens. But in the winter they’re alone, far as I know.” He cleared his throat. “They’re actually the closest people to Blackbriar.”

“How far are we?” A new flush of excitement and fear filled my chest.

“Not far. About fifteen miles.”

“Whoa.” Poppy glanced at me. “So we’re going to be super isolated.”

“Pretty much,” Joe said. “Especially if there’s big storms. Last winter the people who live out here got snowed in twice.”

“So when you say ‘snowed in,’ what does that mean, exactly?” Poppy asked.

“Well, it didn’t used to be this bad. Maybe a few snowfalls here and there. But last year and the year before, there were some big storms. It took a few days for the snowplows to come all the way out. Until then, they were stuck.”

“Yikes.” Poppy bit her lip. “What if the power goes out?”

“Most places have backup generators. Don’t worry. I’m sure the house has a couple.”

We moved on to happier topics, and ten minutes later, we slowed to turn onto a bumpy gravel path. We’re here. Every cell in my body crackled with new energy.

“Is this it?” I tried to sound calm.

“Sure is,” Joe responded.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Oh my god.” Poppy’s hand shot out and found mine. Hers was bony and cold, a skeleton’s grip. We wound through a long, curving path with some potholes that made us fly up in our seats. Poppy giggled nervously.

“You’d think a millionaire would fix her driveway,” Joe muttered. As if in answer, the gravel turned into cement, and we smoothly transitioned out of the trees to an open space.

Of course I’d seen pictures, but in real life it was even more impressive than I’d expected. The Victorian fortress towered over us, magnificent and proud. The doorway was flanked by two turrets, and snow-cloaked ivy climbed up the gray stone walls. There were so many windows, all milky white with the pale setting sun. It unsettled me, like looking at eyes rolled up into a head.

“Wow,” Poppy breathed.

“Beautiful, huh?” Joe sounded proud, as if taking ownership in the sight.

My unease faded, and now I felt only joy. This was it. This was Roza Vallo’s mansion. This was real. This was happening. I quivered with anticipation as we pulled into the circular drive and stopped at the front steps.

“Well, girls, this is our stop.” Joe opened his door and the cold swept into the warm space.

Poppy was still staring at the house.

“Ready?” I asked.

She turned and there was a peculiar look—uncertainty? apprehension?—on her face.

But then she smiled. “Yeah! Let’s do it.”

Joe had already taken both our suitcases from the trunk, and now he rubbed his gloved hands, as if eager to go.

“Oh, wait, can I—should we give you a—” I plunged my hand into my purse.