"Some of these must be in their original printings," she muttered under her breath, amazed at what she was finding. She opened one and the pages made a horrible creaking sound as they compressed against each other in the binding. She quickly snapped it shut and put it back on the shelf lest it fall apart in her hands.
Bridgette stared up toward the second floor and curiosity got the best of her. She worked her way up the spiral staircase, going slowly at first. She stopped midway, seductively running her fingertips along the railing. She closed her eyes and let her body sway on the corkscrew, imagining that she was in Beauty and the Beast. Romance filled her heart and untold dreamscapes cropped up in her mind's eye.
Dawson crowded into her thoughts suddenly and she tried to imagine him holding her on the staircase, wrapped up in the same romance and wonderment that she was. But she knew that's not how it would play out at all; he would be rigid and detached; he would tell her to get off the staircase and stop playing around, because it wasn't safe; he would look at her with those eyes that she'd seen far too many times. Bridgette quickly washed the image out of her mind and walked up the rest of the staircase like she was a no-nonsense lawyer late for a meeting.
She found herself in a short hallway that bent ninety-degrees to the left. And when she rounded the corner, she realized where she was. The bedrooms where they'd spent the night lay at the other end of the hallway, and beyond it was the upper area of the living room. Bridgette turned and next to her saw two golden posts with a velvet rope between them standing in front of a closed door.
The door stood at the end of the hallway from the bedrooms, and she hadn't noticed it before when they were all heading to bed; perhaps it was too dark then. But it was the only room that she'd seen so far that was roped off. And attached to the outside of the door was a large black padlock.
Bridgette looked around as if to check if someone was watching her. But of course that was silly. She stood over the velvet rope and touched the padlock. It was cold and made of solid steel. The thing was monstrous, like it was meant to lock up a giant. She tried turning the doorknob, and it turned, but the padlock was latched to the doorframe which kept it firmly shut. What could be in there? she wondered.
She ran her hand along the padlock and suddenly felt a little give. She jiggled it. It was loose. Without thinking her actions through, she pulled on the lock. There was a sound like old rusted metal snapping, and then the bar of the latch slipped out of the lock and fell to the floor.
"Whoops," Bridgette said to no one.
But the door was open now. What could it hurt to look inside?
She turned the knob, squeaking without lubrication. The swollen wood scraped on the frame. And sitting beyond was another bedroom.
It didn't look that different at first and certainly didn't satisfy her curiosity as to why there was a giant padlock on the outside of the door. There was a bed pressed up to the wall on the other side of the room. The sheets were made. The mattress sat in an elegant cherry wood frame with hand-pounded copper designs on each side. A writing desk sat in the corner with a mirror mounted to the wall over it. It wasn't until Bridgette flicked on the light and stepped into the room that she noticed what was wrong with it.
Seeing it at a straighter angle, she realized the mirror was cracked. Her reflection looked hideous in the jagged shards. The bed had a deep wedge in the middle, like the mattress was very old and whoever stayed in here had slept on it endlessly. And the solitary window, right next to the bed, was bricked over. Bridgette spun around and gazed at the rest of the room, and when she did she gasped.
She pushed the door closed. Long scratches were carved into the wood on the back, like whoever was locked inside here had been desperate to get out. The scratches were accompanied by streaks of dried blood, like the fingers that made them had been scraped down to the bone.
"My God," she uttered. Someone had been locked up like an animal in here. But who? And why?
Bridgette walked around the room, looking for an old photo or some indication of who the previous occupant was. But there was nothing on the desk, and the drawers of a dresser sitting in the corner were empty. As she was about to give up and leave the room, she noticed something.
Something was etched into one of the legs of the writing desk. It was small, and the style of jagged scratches it was written in made it difficult to read. Bridgette knelt on the floor and leaned closer to it, reading each letter carefully.
"Orianne," she whispered.
The lights above her flickered, making her look up, then a moment later they settled.
A heavy door opened somewhere far in the distance in the mansion, followed by clapping footsteps. The familiar voices of Trevor and then Karen echoed through the entrance hall. They were back.
Bridgette worked her way through the confusing maze of hallways and rooms, eager to hear what they had found. Trevor, Billy and Karen were standing just inside the doors, talking to Janet and Dawson.
When Bridgette arrived, Trevor looked around at each of them. His face was reddened from the sun. "We took a preliminary look," he said, "but we didn't find much so far, unless you consider a couple of bottle caps and an old shoe treasure. We saw one or two police boats not too far from where we were and getting closer. I didn't want to blow our cover before we even begin, so I'm thinking we'll go back out at night when things are a little quieter and we can cover more area under cover of darkness. That bay is a big sucker. Much bigger when you're actually on the water."
"At least we ruled out a couple places where it's not," Billy said with a shrug.
"I'm just happy to be out of that sun," Karen said before leaving for the kitchen to get some water.
Dawson leaned against the wall near one of the hallways. He kept his opinions to himself, but when he heard the results he turned and left the room.
The rest of the day passed by nondescriptly. Bridgette told the others what she'd found in the strange bedroom upstairs, but the information didn't seem to get much of a rise out of anyone and they all shrugged it off as some odd event from long ago. Aside from that, the six of them made small talk with each other, coming together in the evening for dinner, this time eating together in the kitchen. Bridgette and Dawson had made up a little, though there was an air of tension between them. Bridgette held his hand during dinner and Dawson thought about pulling his away, but he told himself that was the wrong move. The sky outside was clear and they didn't have any of the fierce rain or wind from the evening before; the museum seemed a lot calmer because of it, and all of the things that had spooked them during the previous dinner seemed like a distant memory.
When the night came, they all wished each other a good night and made their way toward their bedrooms. Janet asked once again if she could spend the night with Bridgette, and Bridgette agreed. Dawson took the bedroom across the hall again, but not entirely because of Janet's request.
Janet was already in bed when Bridgette was doing her night routine, and after Bridgette brushed her teeth, she flicked off the bedroom light, joining her friend under the covers. She rolled on her side and hiked her knees up to get comfortable. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.
And then she opened her eyes. The room seemed even darker than before, like some time had passed. She didn't know why she had awoken, but she stared at the wall, trying to figure it out.
Soft footsteps plodded along the carpet runner out in the hall.
The air in Bridgette's lungs froze.
The footsteps moved slowly but deliberately. They walked past the set of bedrooms where they were all resting for the night, heading for the far end of the hallway. Bridgette listened for another moment and heard them fade away. She was racked with confusion; she didn't know why anybody would be out of their room and wandering the halls in the middle of the night.
Bridgette crawled out from under the covers and went to the door, her curiosity getting the better of her. She rested her hand softly on the doorknob and turned it slowly so
it wouldn't make a noise. She pulled the door open and leaned into the hallway.
The hall was cast in blackish blues. It was difficult to see anything but vague shapes and elementary movement. But at the end of the hallway, a dark figure stood in front of the room Bridgette discovered earlier.
Bridgette rubbed her eyes, trying to get a better look. She couldn't tell if the person was facing the room or facing the other way and looking at her. But the shadow's frame was thin and distinctly feminine. The way the long hair flowed, it seemed familiar.
"Janet?" Bridgette asked softly.
A head poked out from beneath the covers, and a tired voice said, "What?"
Bridgette jumped at the unexpected sound from behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see her friend still lying in bed. When she turned her attention back to the end of the hallway, the figure wheeled around suddenly, and now she knew it was staring at her.
Bridgette's heart leapt into her throat and she slammed the door shut, twisting the lock roughly and running back to bed.
"What is it?" Janet asked.
"It's nothing," Bridgette said quickly, slipping under the covers and pulling them over her head.
Janet slipped her head under the covers too and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "What's going on? What happened?"
"It's nothing," Bridgette repeated. "Go back to sleep, it's nothing."
Janet was troubled, but she quickly settled, taking her friend's word for it. Bridgette squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing. She lay there for a long time, listening, as fear flooded through her. But she didn't hear the footsteps anymore, and soon she fell asleep once again.
Treasure Hunt
Bridgette was shaken awake. She struggled against the unseen form standing over top of her, trying to shove its hands away. Every cell in her body screamed in terror as she tried to defend herself from the looming shadow she had seen in the hallway, knowing that it had finally come for her.
"Bridgette, relax! It's me."
Bridgette settled down, recognizing the voice. She pulled her head out from under the covers and in the darkness saw that the shape over top of her was Trevor.
"What's gotten into you?" he asked.
"Sorry, you just scared me," Bridgette said.
Janet shifted in bed next to her, groaning and settling back into soft snores.
"I'm going diving and I want you to come with me," Trevor said. "Yes or no."
Bridgette stared up at him, unable to see the fine details on his face. After a single moment's hesitation, she said, "Yes."
She slipped out of bed and quietly changed into her clothes in the bathroom. Trevor stood in the doorway to the hall, patiently waiting for her. Seeing him standing there, it stirred up memories from sometime earlier in the night. "Did you... walk around the hallway before?" she asked.
"No. What are you talking about?"
Bridgette shook her head. "Nothing, it must've been a dream. I dreamt that I woke up and there was this long shadow in the hallway. More like a nightmare, really."
Trevor ignored her and hurried into the hallway. There was an air about the way he moved that told Bridgette he didn't want to wake any of the others. But before they crossed into the living room, a doorknob squealed behind them. They both stopped and turned.
Dawson walked out of his bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and when he saw both of them, his face turned sour. "Where are you going?" he asked Bridgette.
She tried to think of something convincing, but she knew it was useless to lie to him. "We're going diving," she said matter-of-factly.
Dawson squared himself up toward them, standing as tall and wide as he could, like he was trying to intimidate a bear. "No you're not," he said, gravel in his voice.
"Yes I am," Bridgette emphasized. Trevor sighed and leaned on the wall with his hand on his hip, waiting for them to get their feud over with.
"Fine," Dawson replied. "Then I'm coming too."
"Be my guest," Bridgette replied. She entered the living room and started down the stairs. Trevor joined her and Dawson followed. The three of them walked silently through the mansion in the dead of night, not uttering a single word to each other. It was silent as the grave, and that deep creepiness they'd experienced the night before returned in full force; all three of them tried to walk as confidently as possible for different reasons, but none of them could help themselves from cautiously peering around corners and suspiciously looking at strange shadows behind the furniture.
"This way," Trevor said suddenly, breaking the silence. He pulled ahead of the other two and rounded a corner to his right. "There's a door at the back up ahead. It's quicker." They walked down a corridor and came to a door, which Trevor unlocked. They found themselves in the loggia leading to the gardens at the rear of the mansion, and they passed flowerbeds and manicured shrubs before crossing along the edge of the small graveyard.
When they reached the boat, Trevor hopped over the side and told them to hurry. He pointed at the line tethering the boat to the willow tree and Dawson untied it before climbing in himself. Trevor skipped down the stairs into the storage area below deck and pulled out three wetsuits and three pairs of flippers. "But these on," he instructed them. "We're going to get a little wet tonight." He smiled and it looked mischievous in the pale moonlight.
The three of them set off, Trevor carefully steering the boat through the sometimes narrow ponds in the bayou. The air was almost as hot and sticky as it was in the daytime, and Dawson fanned a flipper at his face to cool himself off. He didn't like the humidity, and he didn't want to be doing this at all. But in Bridgette's mind, they were already sitting on the bay, diving down and finding vast stores of treasure. She heard the clinking of old golden coins and saw the shine of sparkling jewels.
Trevor navigated into the channel and then pushed the throttle forward until they were cutting through the dark waters of the bay. The sky was clear, the twinkling stars stretched across it a prelude to the treasures that they would find.
"So where are we looking tonight?" Bridgette asked.
Trevor pulled the throttle back to lower the volume of the boat. He cut the headlights. "We took a look over there," Trevor said as the boat crawled across the bay. "But the water was a little too shallow to hide a shipwreck. Tonight, I'm thinking there." He pointed through the windshield of the cabin at an area farther back in the bay.
When they arrived, Trevor eased the boat to a stop and cut the engine. Everything around them was silent now except for the gentle lobs of water splashing against the hull. There were no other boats in sight.
They wore their wetsuits and Bridgette walked around the deck, getting used to moving in flippers. Trevor came up the stairs carrying three oxygen tanks. He passed them out and showed the two of them how to put them on their backs. Then he gave each of them a set of goggles and instructed them how to use their tanks and masks. He doled out waterproof flashlights next.
"Don't drop these," he said. "And make sure you don't hit them on anything. It's going to be really dark down there." Once they went over their safety procedures again, Trevor brought them to the back of the boat. He sat down on the edge with his feet on the deck. "When you dive out of the boat, sit down just like this. Then when you're ready, you just lean back and fall into the water, ass over teakettle. Any questions?"
"What exactly are we looking for down there?" Dawson asked.
"Anything that isn't a rock, a shell, or piece of garbage," Trevor replied. "Basically, if it shines in the flashlight, see what it is. Or, you know, if you see an entire ship. That would be a pretty good clue, too.
"It gets pretty deep down there, so don't get lost. Stick together, and keep your flashlight in your hand at all times. Don't stay underwater for too long, either." He walked up to Dawson and gave him a hard slap on the arm. "Think you can remember all that, champ?" Then he grinned, and before Dawson could retaliate in any way, Trevor flipped himself off the boat and splashed into the water.
Dawson allowed
himself to cool down. He turned his gaze to Bridgette and she gave him a quick glance before sitting on the edge of the boat. "Be care—" he started, but Bridgette was already off the boat and in the water before he finished his word. He grumbled to himself and stared out at the expanse of water that was Black Bay, wondering what the hell he was doing here. He pressed his hand to his wetsuit where his pocket was and felt the shape of the engagement ring. It felt heavier and heavier each time. He cursed under his breath, and then he followed the other two and entered the water.
Bridgette swept the beam of her flashlight through the depths, seeing bubbles and tiny debris floating about. It was a lot darker than she imagined it would be, and it almost seemed like she was sinking down into an endless black abyss. The thought made her stomach turn like going down a big slope on a roller coaster, but at least the water was warm.
Trevor swam ahead, expertly churning his legs and flippers through the water to glide himself lower.
Bridgette followed his lead, trying her best to imitate him, though she wasn't much of a swimmer. In the light, she spotted the floor of the bay somewhere far below. It was impossible to determine the distance, as it created an odd optical illusion where the floor seemed to stay the same distance away from her no matter how much she swam down. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dawson behind her. She wasn't happy with him, but knowing he was okay made her feel better. Her head was racing with thoughts of them the whole time. She tried to think about an old pirate shipwreck and the vast sums of treasure that went down with it, but it was hard to focus when she felt the very real tension that had been put on their relationship recently. She wondered how much of it was her fault, and she guessed that it was probably quite a bit.
She felt Dawson tap her on the shoulder to let her know that he was watching over her, and she was upset to find that that made her feel better, too. Bridgette was glad to be wearing the goggles and breather, because her face was getting red.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 43