All Chapters of 324 Abercorn: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

PROLOGUE:Dream HouseJune 2006The house crouched there on the corner of Abercorn and Wayne like something alive but dormant, a hibernating beast, which may soon awaken and swallow the world whole.Standing across the street in Crenshaw Square, Brad Storm thought he would describe the house in those terms in one of the horror stories he liked writing. Despite the tour guide’s eerie tales about the place’s rather macabre history, Brad only saw a gorgeous Greek Revival mansion. Sure, the house was neglected and in serious need of repairs, but the bones were sturdy. Brad could use his hyperactive imagination to see beyond the busted windows and missing shutters, the moldering brick and general air of abandonment, and envision the house as it must have been in its glory.The building stood three stories tall, with slightly curving side-steps leading up to the main entrance on the second floor. The details were somewhat obscured in the dark, but on the right side there seemed to be a

CHAPTER TWOThe Runaway NectarinesAs Brad made his way back across Crenshaw Square, he silently berated himself for not taking his car. He hadn’t thought he’d need it since everything in the Historic District—scratch that, downtown—was within easy walking distance, but what seemed like a few short blocks when you were unburdened suddenly felt a lot longer when you hauled six plastic bags full of household supplies.Weary as he was, he still paused across the street and surveyed his new home. He remembered standing in this exact spot ten years ago, fantasizing about owning the house. At the time, it had seemed nothing more than an impossible dream, but here he was, literally living the dream.The house was no longer the dilapidated beauty it had been before. No more mold creeping down the masonry like a rash, no more broken glass, brand new shutters and roof. The restoration hadn’t been cheap, but 324 Abercorn was once again the grand manor Brad had known all those years ago. He co

CHAPTER FOURLunch in PJ’sBrad stepped out onto the porch and was closing the door behind him, when he saw Bias crossing the street from Crenshaw Square.“Caught you in the nick of time,” the young man said with a wide grin, a backpack slung over one shoulder.Brad started down the steps to the sidewalk. “Yeah, I was just headed out to the store. What are you doing in the neighborhood?”“Well, I don’t have any classes this morning, so I thought instead of waiting on you to call, I’d just show up and finagle that tour, and then take you out to lunch.”“Oh,” Brad said, caught again in that limbo where he wasn’t sure how much he should read into Bias’s intentions. “Um, I do really need to get some stuff from the store, though.”“Where you going?”“I was thinking the CVS over off Wright Square.”“Ah, the haunted CVS.”Brad sputtered a laugh. “This city is amazing, even the drug stores have ghost stories attached to them.”Bias shrugged. “It’s built on the site of the city’

CHAPTER SIXBias in the HouseAs Brad stepped into the foyer, he reached for the keypad, but then paused, his lips twisting down in a frown.“What’s wrong?” Bias asked, stepping in behind him.“Nothing, it’s just . . . I guess I forgot to set the alarm.”Bias glanced around. “Well, doesn’t look like anyone’s ransacked the place while we’ve been out, so I think you’re okay.”“My brain’s been so scattered lately,” Brad said with a shake of his head. “Guess that comes with old age.”“That’s what I hear, Grandpa.”“Don’t be a whippersnapper. Have a seat in the den while I take care of my furry friend.”Bias handed him the bags. “Don’t get lost,” he said, before heading through the archway.Brad hurried down to the basement. Phantom was curled up by the fireplace, purring contentedly. The animal lifted its head and tensed its body, giving off suspicion like a scent, but didn’t move as Brad approached. This morning, before leaving, he’d poured more milk into the bowl

CHAPTER EIGHTDate NightAfter only five minutes in Club One, Brad remembered why he avoided bars and nightclubs. The place was dark and cramped; he wasn’t sure of the building’s maximum capacity but the crowd had to be pushing the limit.“Is every gay guy in Georgia here?” Brad said, having to practically shout to be heard over the blaring techno remix of “Jesus Take the Wheel” that a tiny Asian drag-queen lip-synched to on the small stage.Bias raised up on tiptoes to speak directly into Brad’s ear. “The drag show on Saturday night is always the busiest. RuPaul really revived the popularity of drag.”The two men squeezed their way through the throng, and Brad noted the average clientele was at least fifteen years his junior, all giving off a vibe of cocky self-entitlement, which seemed to be the calling card of youth. He found himself on the receiving end of many razor-sharp glares as he made his way through the club, as if being asked to move even a millimeter was a person