“It’s cursed, you know.” “Of course it is,” Rebecca said. “All old English houses are cursed.” “This is worse. Real. The Rosemere men die violent deaths,” Tony said, glowering from below heavy brows. “Murder, war, suicide. Hard to deny it.” I thought of my mother running to America. “What about the women?” “They’re fine. Just the men.” “Why the curse?” I asked. Samir said, “It was the curse of a village girl who fell in love with a monk when it was a priory. She’s said to haunt the ruins of the church. Or the well, depending on who tells it.”
