Chapter 2 #2
Darius had had a secret division of Blackwood Bladecraft working on cutting-edge materials and tech that were biologically engineered—not for helping the people or for combat but for profit in the medical and biotech fields.
My mom said the weapons plant had begun working on a new alloy that could withstand extreme conditions—ideal for both weaponry and medical tools.
Darius realized that to create the alloy, the chemical process that was used could be repurposed for regenerative health treatments.
I supposed that wouldn’t have been so bad, but the problem was that the chemicals involved were volatile, dangerous.
Creating the alloy caused chemical reactions that generated waste byproducts, some that were mishandled and couldn’t be disposed of in a conventional way.
The town’s water supply was hit and a lot of people got sick—some even died.
And the Blackwoods did nothing but save their own asses and, not long after, disappeared completely.
They say that the house was left in ruins for years after Darius and Hester died.
Jasper was a teenager then but quickly poured himself into the family businesses and building an empire of his own far more powerful and lucrative than anything Darius had done.
Looking at the house now, there was no sign of neglect.
The front grounds were immaculate; every hedge and blade of grass was lush, though it didn’t give off a serene or beautiful vibe—it felt almost like it were being threatened to remain still and green.
As a botanist living in a wealthy town, I enjoyed ogling the beautiful landscapes of the mansions I frequently passed, but something about this landscape felt wrong.
I realized at once what it was that stuck out to me about Blackwood Manor’s immaculate landscape: There was not a single flowering species of plant to be seen, not even trimmed back and out of season—a design so blatant and odd looking, it had clearly been intentional.
Blackwood Industries, the company Jasper had turned Blackwood Bladecraft into, was not bereft of its own rumors—it was a company known for its mysterious ties to elite weaponry but now famously produced rope.
Apparently, they had a contract with NASA to make ropes engineered for space missions and deep-sea exploration.
The man had earned his millions making rope and weapons.
Talk about fueling the rumors. Paranormal investigators from TV were always coming into town trying to get into the manor, to capture footage of ghostly victims of Blackwood Industry’s weapons, after a few disgruntled household staff claimed they left after being harassed by spirits.
I knew far better than to put stock in ghost stories.
I was logical-minded, rooted in science, not someone who wasted time on superstitions.
Yet, as the thoughts slid across my mind, sitting there at the edge of the Blackwood estate, I felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding.
I wasn’t even out of my car yet, and it seemed I had already entered an entirely different world.
Reasoning and rationale, two traits typically residing at the forefront of my mind, seemed unable to fight the surrealism of the spectral atmosphere before me.
I could reason with myself all I wanted, but the fear inside of me wasn’t listening—it was running off feelings.
What if the rumors were true? What if I was stepping into a place that was more dangerous than I could understand? My eyes traced the shape of its towers, the heavy windows staring down at me like dark and watchful eyes.
With a deep breath, I steadied myself. Jasper Blackwood saying no to a donation and my team being refused admittance to his private garden was the worst thing the tyrant could do to me, and no matter how harshly he delivered the answer, I’d heard worse from my own family.
He couldn’t hurt me with his coldness when I was already dead with frostbite.
I pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the gravel.
The cold air bit into my skin, and the mist clung to the edges of my coat as I walked toward the wide steps of the stone house.
I could see the faint outlines of the conservatory off in the distance, nestled to the side of the manor like a forgotten relic.
Even from here, I could make out the faint outline of the glass panels that had once been clear and pristine.
A few looked shattered, and all were clouded with grime, the structure sagging slightly as if the very weight of the neglect had begun to drag it down back into the earth.
It felt like it was calling to me, begging me to bring it the help it needed.
I knew our team could restore it. We had to.
A few rare propagations would bring light to the botanical gardens, and with it, new paying visitors.
But it would take more than just expertise and time.
It would take Jasper Blackwood’s approval.
I’d seen photos of him in the media—he wasn’t horrible looking if you liked your men expressionless with an air of “I’m going to strangle you if you say anything I don’t like.
” I personally preferred more laid-back, funny, nerdy, gamer types.
The wind picked up once more, rustling the drying leaves barely still holding on to the trees and sending a jolt down my spine.
The manor seemed to grow larger as the mist drifted around me as I approached the front doors.
Taking a deep breath, a sense of inevitability settled into the depths of my chest. I had come this far.
I would not be deterred. Not now. I had nothing left to lose.
I straightened the crisp white blouse I had bought yesterday and knocked on the door.