Jinxed: A Paranormal Why Choose Standalone
Jinxed: Chapter 3

This was a joke, right? Some kind of bad prank they did for all the new people who moved into town. Make a big deal out of the “haunted house” in the woods, get some sucker to buy it, and then pretend the haunting was real. It would make for a great reality show. One I would probably watch, laughing as the poor schmuck tried to discern fact from fiction.

Except…I knew. I knew what he was saying was the truth. I had felt it the second I stumbled into the entryway, some unassuming force taking control over my soul. Not a possession, exactly. Nothing sinister. More like a joining. Like I was part of the house, and the house was part of me.

But I couldn’t accept it. There had to be some way out of here. He just hadn’t figured it out yet. I unwrapped the tea towel from my fist, watching the man out of the corner of my eye. He sprawled out in a velvet armchair, the fabric cushioning him like he had sat there for decades. Which, if what he was saying was true, he very well might have. But he didn’t look much older than I was.

I looked at him, and he stared steadily back at me. He was no ghost, that was for sure. His hand against my mouth had been warm, solid. Flesh and bone. There was no denying he was also hot, in an old-school kind of way. His thick, dark hair was longer than the current style, and framed his olive face. Dark eyes watched me. He was handsome, but something was off, something I couldn’t put my finger on. An out-of-style suit coat caressed broad shoulders, oddly formal for the occasion. “What’s your name?” I asked. If we were going to be lifetime roommates, we might as well be on a first-name basis. At least until I figured out a way to leave.

“Felix.” His finger traced the outline of his full lips, and I found myself following the line. “What’s yours?”

“Savannah. You can call me Sav, though. Everyone does.” I pulled my eyes away from him, looking around the house for an exit Felix might have missed. Felix. What a funny name. It sounded absolutely ancient. “Why can’t you break a window?”

Felix sighed. “I told you. The house is cursed. The doors won’t open. The windows are unbreakable. I saw you trying to bust out and I had to stop you before you hurt yourself. They’ll just push you back. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.”

I nodded, but there was something he wasn’t telling me. I just had to figure out what. Could I go up through a chimney?

“Before you even offer up any solution, I’ve tried. All of them. Every. Last. One.’ He sounded bored as he spoke, as if he’d rather be doing anything else.

I narrowed my eyes, annoyed he had seen through my façade. “Exactly how long have you been trapped in here?”

This seemed absolutely absurd. I was having a conversation with a man who claimed to be trapped in a cursed house, and who was telling me I was trapped, too. And yet we were trading names as if we were at the local coffee shop. Had he tried digging out through the basement?

“I’m 29.” His eyes locked onto mine, daring me to say anything otherwise. He looked 29, but he hadn’t answered my question.

I tapped my fingers against my thigh. “Not what I asked.”

“Are you sure you want the real answer? Are you sure you can handle it?” Felix didn’t look away, a small smile curving his lips. A challenge if I had ever seen one.

He was going to be sorely disappointed if he expected me to let it go. I never did. “How long have you been trapped in here?”

Felix was quiet for a moment. I half expected another vague answer, another challenge. Instead he answered in a voice little more than a whisper. And before he spoke, just like how I knew he was telling the truth about the curse, I knew what he was going to say. I knew. “My house was cursed in the year 1907.”

Knowing what he was going to say and hearing the truth out loud were two completely separate things. The room spun around me, and I could hear Felix talking to me, but I couldn’t make out his words. 1907. 1907. Holy fuck. 1907 was the year the house was built. And if he was 29 in 1907 that would mean…“You’re telling me you were born in 1878?”

“Yes, that’s right–” He stopped midway in his sentence to answer my shocked question. “Are you okay?”

I rested my hand against the wall, waiting for my heartbeat to stop racing. If I looked half as bad as I felt, I probably looked like a fucking ghost. “I think I need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.” He was looking at me curiously, but also with a sense of resolve. Like he had done this before. Fuck. Had he done this before? How many people had walked through these doors? Maybe I was one of dozens. I had no idea how this curse worked. Felix looked really good for…144? Maybe he was cursed to be a vampire.

Maybe…maybe I was here to sustain him for another decade or two.

I couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in this house, and what little there was, was thick. I was breathing in fucking soup. This was a dream. Not a dream, a fucking nightmare. The wall was slick under my sweating palm, and I needed oxygen. Except according to Felix, I would never breathe fresh air again in my life. “Do any of the windows in this godforsaken place open?”

Felix shook his head. He moved as if to get up, and then sat back down. “No. The windows don’t move, and they don’t break even if you smash them with a hammer. It’s cooler in the basement, if you want to try there though.”

“Yes, please.” I got up off the wall, wiping my hand on my T-shirt. A cool basement where I could be by myself and cry sounded perfect. Maybe I could scope out the place for Felix’s coffin while I was there. Jesus. I wasn’t sure reality had sunk in yet. “Where is it?”

“The door is in the kitchen, opposite the sink.” He cocked his head to one side, appraising me. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No!” I shook my head, my bun swaying from side to side. Then I realized I might have sounded a bit aggressive, and Felix may or may not have been a vampire, and I really didn’t want to get on his bad side. But all I wanted was to be alone, process whatever the hell was happening, and mourn. I should’ve been afraid about going down into a basement by myself, but as weird as Felix was, I didn’t get any serial killer vibes from him. Besides, if I couldn’t replace his coffin, I could dig my way out through the dirt walls. Bet he hadn’t tried that before. “No. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.”

Felix nodded, propping his ankle across one knee. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have when you’re ready.”

Somehow, he didn’t exactly sound happy. Of course it would be just my luck, to piss off my new vampire roommate on day one in a cursed house. Next he’d tell me the neighbor was a werewolf. I left Felix in the dining room, following the simple directions to a door I had missed on my earlier search for an exit.

Felix’s voice followed me into the kitchen. “Washroom is at the back if you think you’re going to be sick.” I rolled my eyes. Ass.

The basement door was open a crack, with dim light spilling out, but it was also at least ten degrees colder than the rest of the house. I swung the door open wider and took the rickety steps as quickly as I could into the chilly basement.

It was old and merely functional, but clean. Cement floors and walls that at least were in good condition. Good news–I hadn’t bought a house with a bad foundation. Bad news–cement walls meant digging a tunnel to freedom was out. I sat down on the bottom steps, gulping in cool breaths of air. My heart rate slowed to a manageable speed, and my thoughts cleared. Felix didn’t seem to be insane. And if he was a vampire, he would’ve already chained me up down here. Instead, he had saved me from hurting my hand when I attempted to break a window. He had explained the situation to me, as best as he was able to. I thought…I was safe. For the time being. The house didn’t seem spooky, which helped. Rather, it gave off a forgotten vibe, like a memory not important enough to cling to.

“You must be the reason Felix was losing his shit this morning.”

I whipped my head around to replace a shirtless man a bit younger than me looking at me curiously. He held a mason jar filled with a dark liquid. I was so shocked, I couldn’t speak. I hadn’t expected to see another living houseguest in here, but I supposed it made sense.

He took a sip of the drink in his hand and offered me an easy smile. “I’m Theo. It’s nice to have a pretty face to look at instead of those two fuckheads.”

Theo was completely different than Felix. His smile was relaxed and real, his ripped jeans slung low on his hips. Even the way he complimented me didn’t seem forced. I smiled back, then paused. “Did you say two fuckheads?”

“Ah. Guess you haven’t met Luther yet then.” Theo took another sip of his drink. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. Would you like a drink?”

I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until he offered. Should I be accepting drinks from a strange man in a house I was supposedly trapped in? Absolutely not. But logic had gone out the window about the time I crossed the threshold. Besides, he was drinking it, so it couldn’t be poisonous. “Please. If you don’t mind.” Hopefully it was iced tea.

He shrugged, holding it out to me as he walked over. “Be my guest. Unless you have cooties. Then you can fuck right off.” Theo winked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Something about his personality was so likable, and made me feel like I was at home, even in this fucked-up situation. Felix on the other hand…he was handsome, but an ass. I grabbed the glass. It smelled vaguely alcoholic, and I gratefully took a swig, expecting wine.

It wasn’t fucking wine. I spat it out onto the concrete floor, looking up at Theo in horror as he laughed. “What the hell is this?”

I changed my mind. He was indeed trying to kill me.

Theo stopped laughing and gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s hooch. I make it myself down here.” He took the mason jar back from me and took a deep swig. I was both horrified and impressed he was able to drink it like it was water.

“Fucking hooch,” I muttered. “I really am in prison.”

He laughed, and I found myself wanting to laugh along with the easy sound, so full of life even in a dark basement. “Come on now. It’s not bad.”

I snorted. “Not bad if it’s the only thing you’ve drank in fifty years.” I paused, staring at Theo out of the corner of my eyes. He was still sipping at the hooch as if it were tea. “Please tell me it isn’t the only thing you’ve drank in fifty years.”

Theo ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “I haven’t been here as long as Felix. Or Luther, for that matter.”

“So how long exactly have you been stuck here?” I crossed my fingers, hoping he’d say only a few months and give me some hope of escape. He looked and acted pretty young. There was no way he could be over 100. Could he?

“1992. So, thirty years. Give or take a few months. Most of 1992 was a blur to be honest with you.”

I was stunned for a minute. Theo had been stuck in here for longer than I had been alive, and yet he still looked like a university student. Give him a hacky sack and a guitar and he could’ve been one of the art students who congregated on the front lawn. “But you look so young.”

“That’s the magic of the house for you. The curse. Whatever you want to call it.” He shrugged, smirking. “Probably better for Felix to explain it. I’m not sure I get it, even after thirty years.”

I sat back down on the bottom step, trying to process everything. Maybe this was all a bad dream, and I would wake up. “I just have so many questions.” Like how, and why, he had entered the house to begin with.

“May I?” Theo gestured with his mason jar to the space next to me, and I nodded. He sat, the wood giving way with a soft groan. “I just realized I never even asked you your name.”

“Savannah,” I murmured. His thigh pressed against mine, and the warmth was relaxing, soothing to my soul.

“Well, Savannah, I’ve had a lot of time to think about our…predicament here. And I’ve come to one conclusion.”

I turned to face him, realizing his eyes were the bluest of blues. In another life, another situation, he would’ve been striking–the kind of guy you saw on billboards, and in magazines. But behind the ease and the laugh, hidden by those blue eyes, I recognized something I saw in myself. Pain. Struggle. He gave me a small smile, and I returned it. “What’s that?”

He held the mason jar out to me. “The only way to survive this place is to be very very drunk.”

“Well if you insist.” I took the glass, our fingers briefly touching. This time the hooch was easier to swallow, warming me in a nice way. I wouldn’t put it in my top ten favorite drinks, but it wasn’t bad. I passed the glass back to him, and this time our fingers lingered as they brushed past. When I looked into his eyes again, I saw the connection and understanding of two people in a fucked-up situation they had no control over–when the only way to survive things was to make the best of it. Or, in Theo’s opinion, to be incredibly drunk.

I could get behind that. “Do you miss it?” I asked.

He held up a finger as he took a deep swallow. “Miss what?”

“The outside world. Fresh air. The sun. Or does it get easier?”

Theo was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure I had anything to miss out there to be an accurate enough judge.”

“What do you mean?” I took the proffered glass, a pro by now at drinking the disgusting concoction. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how he made it–hopefully a toilet wasn’t involved. Instead of thinking too hard about the manufacturing process, I just took a drink and handed it back.

“I mean…” He took another sip, a frown creasing his forehead. I was already feeling the effects of the homemade booze, so he had to be absolutely smashed. Or was just a pro at holding his liquor. “I was trapped before I ever stepped foot inside this house. It took being here to realize it. And now it doesn’t matter, does it?”

I snatched the glass back, and this time the drink seemed almost enjoyable. I was definitely drunk. But at least I wasn’t worried about accidentally buying a jinxed house anymore. I was more concerned about the beautiful, sad man next to me, and the idea he might have never gotten to tell his story. Maybe he never would.

I could give him that opportunity. I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Tell me.”