Rhayven House Read Free

weeds.
         Around the other side of the house, he admired the big window jutting out from the building up on the second floor. Not just a bay window because it was actually an expansion of the room. What was the name of that? He remembered seeing on one of the home improvement shows. It was on the tip of his tongue. An Austrian-German word. Erker? Ärker? Couldn’t quite get it. Something along those lines. Beautiful. He wanted to get inside and check it out so bad, but the sour thought of getting arrested for trespassing was a deterring thought.
         Not usually spontaneous, because he lived by a routine damned near etched in stone, he surprised himself by that last thought. Over the course of the last year, after the loss of Alex, he’d toyed with the idea of moving from his townhouse, selling it and making a fresh start. After all, his book sales had gained momentum, and after the publication of his fourth, he was making enough money to live off his writing, and living pretty good. He’d often thought of pulling up stakes and moving out west to be closer to his sister and her family.
         But then he’d stumbled across this and Fate seemed to have other plans for his future.
         Ian’s mind began calculating and contemplating all the ways in which he could totally pull this off.
         He owned the townhouse free and clear, had a nice nest egg in the bank, and then there was the offer from the Japanese film company to write two more movie scripts to go with the one he'd already written for them and form a trilogy. That was enough to convince him he could do it.
         Providing someone was willing to sell.
         Coventon, Maryland, was a beautiful old town—technically a city, but he preferred to think of it as a town. However, living in town couldn’t really compare to living out here where the fall would turn the foliage a variety of reds, yellows, and oranges. He bet when light streamed down the mountain, it looked like the mountain was in flames.
         A plan formulated in his head; a trip to City Hall and the records office would tell him soon enough whose name was on the deed to the property and he could go from there. The worst answer he could get to any inquiry of whether or not the property was for sale was “No.”
         It wouldn't kill him to try.
         Not being completely devoid of brain cells, he realized he needed to have an inside look at the house before he ever bought it, and have professional opinions on the structure. Nobody wanted to move into a house that could collapse like a hastily dug mine.
         If, as he suspected, the bones were indeed good, most renovation and repair could be done in a few months. Professionals abounded in any area, and there were even honest ones who wanted work. And it would be both very cool and creepy to live in the valley so close to the mystical and mysterious Gold Church. That would surely spur his creativity and there might be a novel in it—not that his mind needed any help coming up with creepy stuff.
         Ian closed his eyes and imagined himself atop the tower in the room encased in glass with candles lit all around him writing his books late at night. Creating by flickering candlelight those gothic tales for which he was known—or at least garnering a cult following.
         Four stories up, he could be above the tops of many of the trees. In fact, it must have been the sun shining on the tower glass that caught his attention in the first place. Kismet, Fate, Destiny, whatever you wanted to call it, Ian felt attached to the house already. It was nothing short of a miracle to find the place now, after all the times he’d walked the mountainside with Alex.
         Once upon a time, the house had been surrounded by a beautiful landscape. It had to have been; the remains were in evidence: the remaining flowers the wild foliage had not choked out. A weeping willow nearly as tall as the house stood a