Coldhearted (9781311888433)

  Coldhearted

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Copyright 2014 Melanie Matthews

  Cover Photograph Melkozyorov/Stock Free Images

  Coldhearted is a work of fiction.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  About Coldhearted

  When Edie St. John entered Lockhart Manor in the cold town of Grimsby, she didn’t expect to be imprisoned by a malevolent ghost. Tristan Lockhart decided to let her go, but not before attaching himself to her. Free to haunt Grimsby, Tristan is causing fear wherever Edie goes, hateful of everyone, and jealous of Mason Fenwick, whom Edie loves. Can Edie find a way to rid herself of Tristan and have a normal life with Mason? Or is she doomed to forever suffer from Tristan’s cold, dark heart?

  Chapter1

  Chapter2

  Chapter3

  Chapter4

  Chapter5

  Chapter6

  Chapter7

  Chapter8

  Chapter9

  Chapter10

  Chapter11

  Chapter12

  Chapter13

  Chapter14

  Chapter15

  Chapter16

  Chapter17

  Chapter18

  Chapter19

  Chapter20

  Chapter21

  Chapter22

  Chapter23

  Chapter24

  Chapter25

  Chapter26

  Chapter27

  Chapter28

  Chapter29

  Chapter30

  Chapter31

  Chapter 1

  Edie was lost and freezing cold.

  Grimsby, the wintry town she’d recently moved to was blanketed in snow, as if it’d been cursed by the White Witch of Narnia.

  Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her chest. Edie, being a southern girl, wasn’t used to the cold. She was bundled up more than a NASA astronaut out on a spacewalk.

  And she was still freezing.

  She’d stopped her car to ask for directions. Now she was standing before an old but fancy-looking mansion named Lockhart Manor from the iron-lettering arranged in a semicircle on a bricked-archway entrance. At first glance, the mansion had seemed abandoned, but then Edie had seen a figure walk past a window, before a light had been turned off.

  Who could possibly live in such a desolate location?

  She took in the rest of the grounds. Vast, thick woods surrounded the property. There was no green here, wintertime, when everything was dead. Come springtime, the earth would be revived, full of life.

  Not Edie’s parents, though. They were dead and gone. And a change of the seasons couldn’t bring them back.

  To Edie, the leafless, snow-blanketed trees acknowledged this, as they stood there, proud and tall, daring her to challenge them. They scared her with their limbs like skinny arms, reaching out to snatch her up. She was reminded of the scene with Dorothy and the deceptively-inanimate trees on the yellow-bricked road, and wondered if there really was a witch about.

  Desperate for salvation, Edie forced her mouth open, to call out, but she couldn’t form the words, and only saw her breath escape into a misty white trail; it moved on its own, traveling with speed and purpose toward the front door of the house.

  Edie wondered if this was a sign. Should she knock?

  Yes, she decided quickly, and reached up to grab the knocker, when at the same time, she heard someone crying. Her hand froze and she stood still, listening. The crying, no, the wailing, continued. It was coming from the woods. She thought it must be the wind, stirring and whistling through the trees. Yet…there was no wind. No natural phenomena to explain what she was hearing.

  She lowered her hand. The wailing stopped and silence reigned. She shook her head, thinking she’d just imagined it all. Yeah, that was it. The place looked scary, so her mind had played a trick on her.

  She lifted her hand and grabbed the knocker.

  “Don’t,” someone whispered in her ear.

  The voice sounded like a girl, but when Edie turned to find her, she was nowhere to be found.

  Scared, Edie knocked and yelled, “Is anyone home?! Please?! Let me in! I’m lost!”

  Edie knew someone was home. She’d seen someone moving.

  “Don’t!” the girl whispered again, more urgent than before.

  Oh, the hell with it! She’d just be late to school. She was dreading going there anyway. Maybe she’d go back to Uncle Landon’s house. No. It was her house, her home.

  As she was turning to walk away, she heard the front door creak open. She pivoted back around, and curious, she focused her eyes, peering into the darkness.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  No one answered. The house was deadly silent.

  She should’ve fled then, but she didn’t, feeling compelled to move forward by forces she couldn’t understand. So she stepped over the threshold, took off her glove, and felt around for a light switch. Her fingers swept something sticky and she jerked her hand back.

  Outside, in the morning light, she scrutinized her palm; icky, spider webs covered it.

  Don’t be afraid. You can do this.

  Her cheers worked. She wiped her palm against her jeans, and then felt around again for the switch. She found it and flipped it on—nothing. She flipped it back and forth—nothing, again. There was no electricity. But…what about that light she’d seen? It’d been too luminous for a single candle.

  She moved forward in the dark, in the silence, and then suddenly, she heard a buzzing noise like a hive of bees. She took a step back, ready to flee, thinking she was about to get stung. As soon as she took another step, the buzzing noise stopped. Just as she was about to relax, a loud pop caused her to jump, followed by a bright, yellow flash that almost blinded her.

  She tossed up her hand to protect what little vision she had left. After a few seconds, she dared to lower her hand. She blinked, regained clarity, and focused her eyes. She realized that she was standing in the foyer of Lockhart Manor, below a glowing chandelier consumed by spider webs, and she assumed, creepy crawlies.

  So then, I’m not going crazy. The place was lit, once again. Now…what about that person she’d seen?

  “Hello?” she called out, again.

  In response, she heard a floorboard creak, and then from the gloom, a deep, smooth voice said, “Come in. I’ll help you find your way.”

  Her teeth were chattering. She felt colder than she’d ever felt before, and she had a horrible, horrible feeling it had nothing to do with the weather. So when she backed up to leave and turned toward the exit, she wasn’t surprised to discover the front door had closed—on its own—and locked her inside with no mechanism to free herself.

  She tried her cell phone to call for help, but the black screen was unresponsive, frozen dead.

  Frightfully, she wondered if she was next.

  Chapter 2

  Edie grasped the pendant resting beside her frantically-beating heart.

  It’d been a birthday gift, her seventeenth. The chain was gold, as well as the heart-shaped pendant with encrusted rubies that spelled the word Love in cursive script along the surface.

  She safeguarded i
t in her hand, as if it were magical; an object of power to set her free from this scary place, and the scary-sounding man in the dark.

  With her free hand, she tried the door handle again. No use. She was a prisoner.

  Another floorboard creaked. The man was moving toward her.

  She let go of her necklace. She couldn’t very well run and hold it at the same time. She knew that the front door wasn’t the only door, so she took off running around the first floor of the house like a madwoman, trying to find another exit, but every door she came to was locked.

  Out of breath from lack of exercise, she stopped, doubled over, and rested her hands on her knees, panting. She could see her breath escaping. The lights may be on, but not the heat.

  She didn’t hear anyone moving or talking, so she willed her heart to return to its normal rhythm and took in her surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a sitting room. No television. No computer. There was a phone, but it was an old-timey rotary.

  She checked for a dial tone; the line was dead. No surprise there.

  The furniture, although caked in dust, was expensive-looking—mahogany or walnut. Dulled paintings adorned the walls—scenes of wide green fields; cottages; seashores. No portraits. A tapestry of Psalm 23 hung on the wall, as well; it was faded and torn, slowly rotting away. She imagined the house must have been very beautiful once, before time and neglect had worn it down to ugliness.

  Who were the Lockharts? And why had they abandoned their home?

  She checked her cell phone again on the chance that maybe it’d decided to be nice and work. Nope. It was still mean and dead.

  She grasped the heart-shaped pendant again. She’d first worn it three weeks ago on her birthday. And she’d worn it still, when on the next day, she’d been informed her parents had died in a car accident. A careless driver not paying attention had hit them.

  And so three days ago, she’d arrived in Grimsby to live with her uncle, the famous horror writer, Landon St. John. He’d been only a vague memory of her childhood; the famous, absentee uncle, who had lived far away and wrote scary stories.

  At the memorial, he’d shown no grief, stone-faced. But he’d taken care of the funerary arrangements beforehand, sparing no expense. After the ceremony, he’d finally approached Edie, saying “You’re going to be living with me now.” His smile had been forced.

  Uncle Landon was all right, she guessed. He’d given her a car and a cell phone. She had access to his credit card, along with cash money. She didn’t need to worry about food to eat and clothes to wear. But that was as far as his attention went. He didn’t sit with her. He didn’t talk to her. He didn’t try to tell her: “It’ll get better, Edie,” or “They’d want you to be happy, Edie.” He just sat at his computer, conjuring up ghouls and goblins and ghosts, while he fueled his body with coffee and cigarettes.

  Right now, she wished that she had some coffee to warm her body against this biting cold. She was sure her nose had already fallen off, but she was too rigidly frozen to go look for it.

  Nearby she heard another floorboard creak.

  She strained her stiff, glacial muscles to move and ran back to the foyer. The chandelier was still lit and it illuminated much of the area, but there were still shadowy places where the light couldn’t reach, or refused to reach.

  Determined to be free, she found some courage and used it aggressively.

  “Whoever you are, you don’t scare me. Now…let me out!”

  A chuckle came from the shadows, and then a deep, haunting voice said, “What a pathetic, little liar, you are. I’ve never seen someone so scared in all my life, girlie girl.”

  She grasped her necklace, the metal made of courage, not gold.

  “Come out, then,” she taunted. “Why are you hiding? Are you ugly? Got warts all over your face or something?”

  Oh, great, Edie! Taunt the very thing keeping you locked up.

  She waited for him to growl, to grab her, but he said nothing, did nothing. She guessed what they said about bullies was true: if you were to stand up to them, they’d back down.

  She’d been smiling at her victory, but then frowned, as a cold presence brushed past her. She saw her breath escape, before she was knocked down by an unseen force, and then fell on the floor. She remained there, curled up like a frightened child, whimpering.

  She’d shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around her head, not wanting to see the terrible monster who was about to kill her. Shivering, she waited for death, but the monster didn’t slay her.

  It seemed that Edie was meant to die another day.

  She finally lowered her arms and opened her eyes. She saw a light, but it wasn’t from the chandelier above her. It was the warm, beautiful sun with its rays extending through a wide, open space. The front door that’d been shut and locked for so long was now…open.

  Not wasting time on the how and why, she flew out of the house and hurried back to her car. When she was safely inside, she turned over the engine, blasted the heat, and then she looked back. The front door to Lockhart Manor was closed. That was strange; she hadn’t closed it. There were no lights on inside the house. No one was moving around in front of the windows.

  The house was vacant.

  She listened for the wail, the warning that she’d heard before entering the house, but all was silent. Had Edie imagined everything? She searched her pocket, found, and withdrew her phone. The screen was lit, fully charged. Alive. She banged her head against the steering wheel and started to cry.

  I’m going crazy.

  It was the only logical explanation Edie could think of. No one had spoken to her. No one had tried to hurt her. She’d imagined everything. It was only normal, right? Losing my parents like that…so suddenly…my mind must have snapped. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. She felt lost, adrift. She wondered if she’d ever be found.

  She yelped when her cell phone rang, and then scolded herself for being so jumpy and stupid. She didn’t recognize the caller, but answered anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Edwina St. John?” a pleasant female voice greeted.

  “It’s Edie,” Edie corrected.

  “Oh, Edie, this is Principal Jennings. I was calling because I was worried. Your uncle gave me your number. You and I were supposed to meet before first period, go over your schedule, a quick tour, et cetera.”

  Edie almost cursed, noticing that the time was well after eight.

  “Sorry,” Edie apologized. “I got lost. Still am, actually.”

  “Oh, no, don’t apologize. Where are you now? Any landmarks? Signs?”

  “Um…” Edie looked for a road sign, but couldn’t find one. “I don’t know. I’m in front of Lockhart Manor, if that means anything.”

  “Oh, that old place?” Principal Jennings let out a chuckle. “That’s way on the other side of town.”

  Edie shrugged even though the principal couldn’t see. “Like I said, I got lost. I’ll be at school as soon as I can. I’m going to look up the directions on my phone. What’s the address of the school again? Ashbourne Lane or something…?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that!” Principal Jennings said. “You just stay there. I’ll have someone come by in no time and escort you to the school.”

  “Uh, no, Principal Jen—”

  “No, no, no! Don’t worry, Edie! I’ll have someone there in a jiffy. Sit tight.”

  “Uh, okay, thanks.”

  “Keep warm! See you soon! Bye!”

  “Bye,” Edie returned, and then ended the call.

  Great. Now she had to be escorted to the high school because she couldn’t find her way there. How humiliating. Well, she had no choice and settled in, waiting for her rescuer to arrive.

  She was shivering, despite the furnace that she’d lit inside her car. She wrapped her arms around her chest, and rocked back and forth, trying to forget about what’d happened to her—or what hadn’t happened to her—inside Lockhart Manor.

  Edie was sure that she
was having a psychotic breakdown.

  Yet, at the same time, she had a very bad feeling that she wasn’t alone, and prayed to God that she was wrong.

  Chapter 3

  Edie was staring at Lockhart Manor, obsessed, when she heard a vehicle approach beside her.

  She turned and had to look up. The guy in the red pickup had his window rolled down and motioned for her to do the same.

  “Hi,” he greeted, after she’d lowered her window. “Nice car.”

  He was very sweet-looking with dimples and thick, brown hair.

  “Hi,” she greeted back, feeling her cheeks flush, but not from the car’s heat. “My uncle bought it for me,” she informed next, referring to her brand new white BMW with black wheels. “Are you my escort?” she asked.

  He smiled, showing off his dimples even more. “Yep, I’m your knight-in-shining armor.” Then his smile faded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re some damsel-in-distress.”

  Edie shrugged, not taking offense. “No big deal.”

  He brought back his smile. “Yeah, well, some girls get touchy about that. Think us guys are saying they’re helpless or something and need a man.” He shrugged, unable to decipher the modern female. “Anyway, I’m Mason, Mason Fenwick. You’re Edwina, right?”

  “Edie,” Edie corrected him.

  “Edie,” he echoed back. “Welcome to Grimsby.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered, and shivered at the cold blast of air entering her car.

  “Not used to the cold, huh?” he observed correctly.

  “I was born down south. This is like...” She trailed off, waving a hand at her surroundings, and then continued, “Siberia or something.”

  Mason chuckled at her comparison, finding it silly. “You’ll get used to it,” he assured her with a warm smile.

  Edie noticed that he wasn’t as bundled up as she was. No hat. No gloves. No scarf. He was wearing a sweater under a coat, and he didn’t even seem to be that cold. No shivering. No teeth chattering. He was very relaxed.