Sam balanced the knife on the tip of her finger, its blade gleaming with menace beneath the sterile lights of the coffee shop. The move felt daring, an unspoken challenge she had leveled at herself more than at Lilly. Sam nodded, her voice echoing doubt. "You really want to see that place?"
“I’m dying to go to the manor!” Lilly said, her eyes bright with excitement. “Do you think it’s haunted?”
Sam laughed, the sound tight. “I’m sure Patricia’s told her share of ghost stories.”
Lilly’s face lit up even more. “It’ll be so cool! Maybe she’ll let us into the basement where you got lost.”
Sam shook her head, her mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Pretty sure that’s not part of the tour.” Her hesitation still lingered, gnawing at the edge of her resolve.
“Aw, come on,” Lilly urged, reaching across the table to nudge Sam’s arm. “What if we get a private tour? Can you still get lost with your know-it-all-ness?”
“Maybe,” Sam said, this time more playful. “But you can find me, right?” She looked into her coffee, stirring her doubts along with the bitter brew.
"Yeah, and you know deep down you love that place. It's an adventure waiting to unfold," Lilly declared, confident and unshakeable.
“An adventure,” Sam echoed, wondering how to unravel the tangled threads of her excitement and fear. She heard her mother's voice, like a whisper from the past, weaving tales of the enigmatic manor.
"Mom was fascinated with that place," Sam said after a long silence, more to herself than to Lilly. "She couldn't stop talking about it."
“Exactly!” Lilly leaned forward, sensing victory. “Now it’s our turn to see what’s inside.”
Sam shifted in her seat, knowing she’d lost this battle before it even began. “Guess it is,” she admitted.
Lilly grinned, a flash of triumph in her youthful eyes. “Let’s go as soon as we’re done here.”
“Alright, alright,” Sam relented, the undertone of doubt still in her words. She watched Lilly, wondering at her own resistance, knowing it ran deeper than a simple tour.
“ Patricia Abernathy runs the place now,” Sam said, attempting to match Lilly's enthusiasm. “She’s a bit theatrical but knows her history.”
“Theatrical?” Lilly asked, curiosity piqued. “How do you mean?”
Sam pictured the woman, her elaborate costumes and dramatic flair. “Let’s just say she’s got a flair for storytelling. Might even throw in some Latin.”
“Sounds perfect,” Lilly said, unphased.
“We’ll see,” Sam replied, still unsure. She clipped the knife to her belt, the motion quick and reassuring.
Lilly picked at her doughnut, watching Sam as if waiting for a change of heart. “You’re excited, right?” she prodded, though she knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Sam said, her voice colored by hesitation. “Something like that.”
The mist crept like something alive, curling and twisting as it bled from the trees and into the street. Lilly was leaning forward in her seat, impatient for a glimpse of the legendary mansion. The drive to Ravencrest was short, but Sam felt it stretch under the weight of memories that clung to the air like ghosts. The Victorian manor rose in the distance, a pale giant with a watchful gaze, looming against the bleak sky. Sam parked in the small visitor lot, darkness pooling like rainwater beneath the shadowed turrets.
Lilly buzzed with anticipation, her eyes wide and eager. “Do you think they’ll let us in early?” she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on!” Lilly urged, already halfway out of the car. “Let’s go!”
Sam hesitated, the manor felt alive, like it was breathing. She looked at Lilly, her carefree spirit so unlike Sam’s own heavy-heartedness.
Patricia Abernathy’s voice rang out before they even reached the steps, its cultivated Southern drawl slicing through the morning air.
“Welcome to Ravencrest Manor, ladies! You're just in time for the eleven o'clock tour.” Her words were warm but calculated, like the smiles she wore for the tourists who strayed into her domain.
Sam and Lilly exchanged a look, surprised by the dramatic greeting. Patricia’s presence was as commanding as the house itself. She stood in full period costume, a Victorian dress hugging her short frame, vintage glasses perched on her nose. Her black hair was styled with meticulous precision, the elegance at odds with the unbridled energy she exuded.
“Is she always like this?” Lilly whispered, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Like I said, theatrical,” Sam replied, though she found herself caught up in the spectacle despite her reservations.
Patricia gestured with black-gloved hands, directing them toward the entrance with a flourish. “Do come in! It’s not every day we get such eager visitors.” Her enthusiasm bordered on theatricality, but there was a genuine quality beneath her practiced demeanor.
Lilly trailed after Patricia, captivated by the eccentric woman's charm. Sam stayed back, attempting to absorb the scene—it had been some time since she'd experienced this.
“Right this way!” Patricia called, beckoning them both forward. Her cultivated accent and period attire set the tone, turning the visit into something more than Sam had bargained for.
Sam stepped over the threshold, the air inside warm but also smelled slightly metallic. Patricia’s words continued to flow, punctuating the grandeur of the space around them.
Sam paused, glancing back at the heavy wooden doors as they closed with an ominous thud. The sound reverberated through the entryway, enveloping her like an ominous vow. She watched Lilly bound ahead, the thrill of discovery shining in her eyes.
“It’s like stepping back in time,” Lilly marveled, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. Sam nodded, "Yeah, its like a national treasure.”
The history and secrets of Ravencrest Manor loomed around them, vast and unyielding. She felt the pull of it, her scholarly curiosity at odds with the shadows of doubt that stretched across her heart. Patricia’s voice unfolded like the mansion’s winding halls, dipping and curling through time. Her tour was a carefully orchestrated dance, each step landing with practiced elegance.
“Emil Ravencrest built this magnificent home in 1863,” she announced, gesturing with her arms in a sweeping motion. Sam recognized the switch to her "historical voice," the words as familiar as lines in her favorite play. The tour moved through opulent rooms, Patricia's dramatic flair painting each corner with stories both vivid and suspect. Sam felt the tug of truth beneath the exaggerations and followed, her curiosity bristling.
The grand foyer was expansive, its sweeping staircase curling like a ribbon toward the upper floors. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, their brilliance tarnished by age but no less captivating. Lilly stared up at them, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Imagine having this place all to yourself,” she whispered, more to herself than to Sam.
“Quite the place to get lost,” Sam replied, her tone half-joking but shadowed by memory.
Patricia continued, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “Emil’s vision was to create a home that reflected his status and genius. This very foyer has seen some of the most illustrious figures of the time.” She paused for effect, her eyes sweeping over her audience with satisfaction.
They moved from the foyer to the formal dining room, the space a museum of Victorian opulence. The original china was still displayed, its intricate patterns a testament to craftsmanship and care.
“Isn’t it exquisite?” Patricia asked, her voice wrapping around the word like a ribbon. “This table has hosted diplomats, inventors, and maybe even a few scoundrels.”
Sam examined the room with a mix of admiration and skepticism. “Is that what they’re calling politicians these days?” she murmured, just loud enough for Lilly to hear. Lilly stifled a laugh, the sound catching Patricia’s attention. She smiled, undeterred, and continued the tour with undiminished flair.
“The Ravencrests were known for their hospitality, though it was sometimes said to mask darker interests,” Patricia hinted, her tone conspiratorial. "I wonder, do you happen to have any darker interests? Perhaps the Circle of the Void in particular?"
Sam was puzzled, was this part of the tour? "A circle of what? I don't have any," Sam put her fingers up in quotes, "darker interests."
Lilly chuckled and continued walking along for the tour.
Patrica proceeded to lead them into the library, its walls lined with leather-bound volumes. Sam’s eyes lingered on the books, her fingers itching to explore.
“Looks like heaven to you,” Lilly whispered, nudging Sam with a grin.
“Almost,” Sam replied, a spark of genuine interest lighting her features.
Patricia gestured to the library, her arms sweeping with dramatic flourish. “This was Emil’s sanctuary. Here, he pursued his inventions and his more... esoteric studies.”
Sam noted the hesitation in Patricia’s voice, sensing the juicy embellishments. “Esoteric, huh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought those were just rumors.”
Patricia chuckled, her laugh light but rehearsed. “Rumors and history often intertwine in fascinating ways.” Her response was polished, like an actor delivering a well-worn line.
“After all, Emil has inscribed in this very library, Mors tua, vita me.” Patricia smiled, “It means life conquers death.”
Sam looked over at Patricia, Patricia just made an error in translation and she should know that. Sam corrected her,“It actually means your death is my life.”
Patricia grinned, “Ah, you are so right.”
They moved to the east wing, the hallway wide and echoing with the whisper of their footsteps. Lilly clung to every word, the mansion's mysteries unfolding in her imagination with each of Patricia's calculated revelations. They paused before a large family portrait, the figures almost lifelike in their detail. Emil stood with his two children, their expressions solemn yet defiant. Sam studied the painting, noting the uncanny way Emil’s eyes seemed to follow them.
“After his wife’s tragic passing, Emil raised his children here alone,” Patricia intoned, her voice a careful blend of sympathy and intrigue. "A task whose weight compounded day by day as his obsessions grew."
Lilly shivered, rubbing her arms as they moved past a pocket of cold air in the hallway. “Did you feel that?” she asked Sam, her voice hushed with a trace of excitement.
“Drafty old houses,” Sam replied, though she felt the chill settle into her bones. The history of the place seemed more tangible than ever, a living presence that pressed in on her.
Patricia smiled, "Maybe what you feel is the house recognizing something it has not felt in a long time."
Lilly was puzzled, not sure what that was supposed to mean.
"Don't worry about it," Sam whispered, "she is just trying to scare you. It's part of the tour."
They followed Patricia through the rest of the tour, her narrative weaving together fact and embellishment with artful precision. Sam listened with a mix of skepticism and fascination, the scholar in her resisting the urge to question every detail. Lilly’s enthusiasm was infectious, her wonder at the house’s grandeur barely contained. The tour wound through rooms filled with inventions, artifacts, and atmosphere, each one steeped in stories that resonated with both mystery and familiarity.
Patricia concluded the tour in the gift shop, her voice switching seamlessly back to its everyday cadence. “Thank you for joining me on this journey through history. Any questions before you go?”
Sam shook her head, still processing the swirl of information and impressions.
“We’ve got plenty of mementos,” Patricia said, gesturing to the shelves stocked with souvenirs. “Why not take a piece of Ravencrest home?” Her words were less sales pitch and more gentle persuasion, reflecting her vested interest in the manor’s legacy.
Sam glanced at Lilly, who was already browsing the selection with keen interest. She picked up a small guidebook, the title embossed in elegant gold letters. “Can I get this?” Lilly asked, her tone a mix of excitement and determination.
“Sure,” Sam said, her voice softening. “Anything to keep you out of the basement.”
They purchased the guidebook, Lilly clutching it like a new-found treasure. As they left, Sam felt the weight of the tour settle over her, the history both vivid and uncertain in her mind. They stepped outside, the rain reduced to a light drizzle. Sam adjusted her glasses, her mind a whirl of questions and half-formed theories. The visit had stirred more than memories; it awakened a curiosity she hadn’t felt in years.