The Forbidden (Krewe of Hunters #34) - Heather Graham Page 0,3
in the horror of the war.
She’d learned the brothers were interred in the cemetery. One had fought for the North, the other for the South. The dog, so it was said, had been interred in the tomb, as well.
Boris had read about the death of Nolan Christy and how the property would soon be up for sale—for an exorbitant price that might mean it would take some time to find a buyer. Knowing that, he’d contacted the heirs, and learned they were open to renting while they waited. Thus, they had been able to film here for a very reasonable price. It helped that the heirs were interested in the movie industry. Connections meant everything in the film business—Boris had made sure to make a good one here. The family members—and Cara’s husband, Gary—had all been delighted Boris was happy to have them present for filming, and they were welcome to be extras in the picture, too. They’d been thrilled to get to watch prep, design and filming. Avalon knew Cara and Gary intended to be in some of the final scenes.
Avalon turned, staring at the creepy old mansion, and wondered how she would feel if she inherited such a place.
“What are you looking at?” Kevin asked Avalon.
Avalon hesitated a moment.
In truth, she’d given a lot of thought over whether she should take this role or not. She had never wanted to come to Christy Island. There had just been too many strange happenings associated with the property. Of course, a friend had once told her every single place in and around New Orleans was haunted.
But the difference was that her friend didn’t occasionally see the dead, as Avalon did.
Ghosts.
Avalon’s connection to the deceased could make her life difficult, so she tried not to put herself in situations where she might be startled by a spirit.
And this place...well, it was almost certainly haunted.
But her friendship had won out. Kevin had wanted this role so badly, and had been so enthusiastic that she be on the project, too.
“The mansion!” she said in reply to his question. “I’m seeing shades of all kinds of things. Think Hitchcock, or the spookiest horror house you’ve ever been in. I heard poor old Mr. Christy was a loner to the end. He didn’t want people in his house. No nurse—and certainly no assisted living—for him. They found him, dead, just sitting in his chair, staring at the hearth.”
“Who found him? Not the family, right?”
“From what I’ve read? It was someone with the wildlife commission who had come out to ask about testing on the island. I think Cara and Gary Holstein are upstate—the Monroe area. Julian Bennett lives in Baton Rouge and Kenneth Richard is from Texas. Beaumont, I believe.”
Avalon shivered. She was saddened to think of the old gentleman dying alone in his chair.
With no one knowing. He’d been such a strange recluse.
He’d probably just been a lonely old man. But she was afraid of seeing his spirit.
“So sad,” Kevin muttered.
“And creepy. But you’re right. Sad. Still, he lived as he wanted. I wonder if he left the property to all three of his closest—distant—heirs, hoping one might buy the others out.”
“They all seem fun. Cara is a pretty little thing, isn’t she? Skinny and kind of like a tiny terrier, but nice enough. And Julian’s a good-looking dude with that dark red hair and his amber eyes.”
Avalon raised her eyebrows, amused. “And Kenneth Richard?”
“Okay, a little cuddly and round, balding, but he has been friendly and enthusiastic, too.”
“They have made it nice to be here,” Avalon said. Smiling at him, she added, “And working with old friends is pretty cool, too, though we have managed to do that a lot.”
“Hmm, all our old friends? Are you thinking of taking off with the detective instead of the vampire?” Kevin teased. “That would give Boris a fluttering heart—he so loves his script!”
She grinned. Their friend Leo Gonzales, playing the detective, was a prime example of what people usually referred to as tall, dark and handsome. He was also just a nice guy. He had never been a prima donna, and she knew, even if his star rose sky-high, he never would be. He preferred theater to film, but never minded working wherever, or doing whatever, in order to make a living at his craft.
“Hey, taking off with the detective would be preferable to being killed by him,” Avalon said lightly.