Prologue

However grateful he was then he had gotten this summer job, he was over it now. The end of his route consisted of Gracey Manor, which was not a place anyone in their right mind wanted to pass, led alone deliver real estate flyers to. Of all places, why did it have to be Gracey Manor?

It was near the end of his first day, and he was coming upon the dreaded mansion. He rode up to the gates, but saw they were chained shut, locked by a padlock. Not only that, but the top of the wrought iron gates came up to a point, which would hurt if fallen upon, and he wasn't great at climbing anyways. He stood for a while, searched for a callbox, but couldn't find one. So, not wanting to lose his job on the first day, he began to walk to the other side of the place, when a huge gust of wind pushed him to the ground, getting dirt into his eyes, and restricting his vision. He got up as fast as he could manage and ran, leaving the flyers and his bike lying on the ground.

Now, to any innocent bystander, this would all seem perfectly harmless, it would seem to them that he overreacted, but to anyone who lived around here and knew the history of Gracey Manor, his reaction seemed perfectly adequate.

It was, at one point, the place to be. The mansion used to be full of lively balls and masquerades. For the master of this mansion, Sir Edward Gracey, was the successor of his father, George Gracey, who much enjoyed company. So it was in Edward's best interests that he keep up, and attempt to boost, his father's reputation in the eyes of the public who so much adored Gracey Manor. Until, that is, the night that it all happened.