Wolfhowl Mountain

by Dian Cronan

  “Liam! Where are you?”

  “The playroom, Rosie! I’m in the playroom!”

  I burst into the playroom. My hope deflates when I don’t see Liam anywhere. “Liam!”

  “Here, Rosie!” Liam’s voice is followed by pounding coming from the little closet in the turret. I run to it.

  “I’m here, Liam! I’m here!” I pull at the door with my fingers, tearing up my nails and the skin on my fingertips, but I don’t feel the pain. “Kick, Liam!” I shout. “Kick as hard as you can!” I hear Liam’s little feet on the other side of the door as he obeys me. It takes five kicks and all of my strength to break away the door. Liam floods into my lap. I hug him against my body so tight I feel his lungs trying to inflate as he chokes out sobs. I let Liam cry and I cry too, trying to recommit how he feels in my arms to memory. Can I carry this feeling with me into the next world?

  The crackling of the fire breaks through our silent reunion. I hoist him up and lumber into Liam’s bedroom. I head for the door, loweing a protesting Liam to the floor, but he won’t let go of me.

  “It’ll be easier if I set you down, okay? Please, Liam,” I beg. “I’ll hold your hand. I won’t let go.”

  “You promise?” He sniffles.

  I hug him again. “Promise.” When I set him down, he grabs my hand so hard I wince. Keeping hold of his hand, I lean toward the door. Grabbing the doorknob, I jump back in pain; it’s as hot as an iron brand. My palm burns and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

  “What’s wrong?” Liam asks anxiously, wiping his nose on his shirtsleeve while I shake out my hand.

  “Nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. I bend down and hold his shoulder firmly in my uninjured hand. I need him to know I’m serious. “Listen, Liam, okay? She’s on fire. It’s spreading really fast and I…I—”

  “She’s going to kill us, Rosie,” Liam interrupts. “She won’t let us leave.” His little cherub face is tear-streaked and red with heat. “She’ll never let us go.”

  “Oh, squiggle worm,” I say with a resigned sigh. Until this moment, I’d convinced myself Liam and I would be the sacrificial lambs. We would die so others could live. We’re basically orphans after Mother was taken anyway. No one will miss us, not now. It’s the right thing to do. At least I thought it was. That was the course I’d determined to take from the moment I heard about Eileen’s death. But now, I’m filled with the sudden will to live. A protectiveness rears up inside me, and I realize I have to save Liam’s life. I’m his big sister and I can’t let him die. I might have to die, but Liam doesn’t.

  “But we’re not going to let her,” I find myself saying, squeezing Liam’s shoulder so hard my knuckles turn white. “We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to open this door in a minute. There’s going to be fire, but we’re not going to burn.”

  “We’re not?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “We’re special.”

  “Like superheroes?”

  “Exactly, like superheroes. And our super ability is that we won’t burn, right?”

  “Right,” Liam nods. He takes a deep breath and wipes away his tears, trying to be my Big Man.

  “So I’m going to open this door, and I’m going to grab your hand, and then we’re going to run out this door, and down the stairs, and out the front door, okay? And we’re going to run as fast as we can, and we’re going to ignore all the fire because –”

  “We won’t burn.”

  “Right.” As I look at Liam, staring into his innocent blue eyes, my own sting with tears. This is ludicrous. It can’t work, but I can’t think of anything else to do. To stay is to die. “I love you, squiggle worm.”

  “I love you too, Rosie.”

  “Ready?” Liam nods. I pull down my sleeve so it covers my burned hand and use it to turn the doorknob. I ignore the intense pain as I grab Liam’s hand in the other.

  Together, we run into the hall of flames. I’m immediately blinded by the bright fire and thick smoke. Without my vision, I’m disoriented and lose my sense of direction. I hear Liam choking behind me, and only the sensation of his hand in mine is confirmation he’s close. Flames surround us now, licking at our clothes. As the fire touches my skin, I scream from the white-hot pain.

  Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home

  Your house is on fire and your children will burn.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Demolition

  Beckan shoots up off of the floor, looking wildly around his darkened bedroom. He’d fallen asleep with the television on somewhere in the middle of Letterman. I must’ve rolled off of the bed, he thinks. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  The television blares some gaudy infomercial for jewelry cleaner with an obnoxious over-excited man yelling about how well this cleaner works on all your most precious jewels. Beckan rifles around in his bedclothes for the remote and turns the television off, returning the room to the tattoo of rain, so constant now that he equates it with silence.

  No. That isn’t right, he thinks. Something woke me up. A sound. A scream. A banshee-like screech intruding into his dream. Before he has a chance to figure out what it was, he hears it again; a terrible cry throbbing with pain and desperation. The sound spurs him into action.

  No! he thinks as he throws on his boots and runs for the door. No, no, no. Please, no! He nearly collides with Derry, already on the porch, staring up the hill with an anguished expression glistening in a sickening orange glow. Lady’s at his side, growling and barking, chomping at the bit to run for the house, but Derry restrains her with a firm grip on the scruff of her neck.

  Slowly, Beckan’s eyes follow his father’s to the source of the light and his heart nearly stops beating. The first two floors of Wolfhowl Manor are engulfed in flames. They lick up at the sky, some of the highest and hottest flames he’s ever seen. Against the dark purple backdrop of storm clouds and through the mist of falling rain, it’s an awesome sight.

  Beckan starts forward, but one of Derry’s strong arms blocks his path. “It’s too late.”

  “No,” Beckan says in disbelief. “I heard her screamin’! Rose is in there! She’s burnin’ alive, Pop!” he screams.

  “And what are you goin’ tah do ‘bout it?” Derry asks sharply. “Get yourself killed too?”

  “Call the fire department!” His voice cracks with desperation.

  “Cahn’t,” Derry says simply. “Phone’s dead. She knew what she was doin’. I told you befah, she’s cunnin’. She didn’t want no one stoppin’ her tah-night. Just let her go. Let the girl go.”

  Another wild howl rips through the storm, quickly followed by a burst of lightning and thunder. Lady renews her anxious barking and makes another attempt to get away from Derry’s vise grip.

  “You might be afraid, but I’m not!” Beckan pushes his father’s arm away and takes off. “I won’t just let her die!”

  The freezing rain shocks him. He expected it to be hot, to burn his skin like a fire would. Beckan scrambles up the hill, fighting against the muddy ground. He falls several times and is nearly dragged back to the bottom of the hill with the flowing current on the ground. Cresting the top, the pure power of the fire before him, roaring in his ears like a dragon, brings him to an awe-struck stop. It’s devoured the first floor completely, and is nearly finished with the second. A sudden rush of failure and hopelessness washes over him. The house will collapse any minute.

  The ground shakes beneath him. Another scream rips through the air and this time, he realizes, at least one of the screams wasn’t Rose. It’s the house. It’s Her. The ground shakes again, stronger this time, and Beckan’s knocked to the ground. The tremor subsides and he gets to his feet, catching movement on his left. Another dark figure is coming over the top of the hill, climbing the driveway on all fours and then running toward him.

  “Beckan!” Adam yells. “Beckan! Rose is inside!”

  There’s another tremor as they reach each other and Beckan reaches out, grabbing two fistfuls of Adam’s soaking shirt
to hold him steady. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “She drugged us,” Adam says urgently. “She drugged all of us. I couldn’t stop her! She’s inside!”

  A sudden explosion rocks the hill and both boys fall to the ground. The saturated earth peels itself apart, opening a crack between them and the house. Fire erupts from the second floor windows. The tinkling of shattering glass comes with the shock wave, peppering them with beads of melted glass.

  Beckan sits up on his hands, staring at the demolition happening before his very eyes. The house is tearing Herself apart.

  ***

  I fall back against the wall, my arm burning with pain as my skin boils. When I opened the door to the hall, a rush of air brought the flames straight to us and I held up my arm, as if that were any real protection. The heat’s unbearable, unbreatheable. Liam crouches next to me, coughing and crying. My eyes search frantically for a way out. Tears spring to my eyes, evaporating almost immediately in the dry air.

  But then – darkness. A hole in the fire appears. Relief floods through me – we still have a chance. I haul Liam to his feet and lead him toward the strange void in the flames. As my eyes focus on the darkness, it begins to change, to grow. I think the flickering flames are is playing tricks on me. But then the hole in the fire takes shape, a human shape. It grows arms, and then legs. The body tapers at the waist and long, thick hair sprouts from the head. The eyes are two black holes, sucking in everything around them. The fire, the thinning air, our breath. The apparition comes for us with its terrible glaring eyes. Its mouth opens and the foul stench of death permeates the air. Liam whimpers behind me as a low growl begins from the strange specter, becoming a high-pitched scream. It’s then I realize I’m staring into Her soul, Her energy, the source of all the evil in this house. I see all of the women of Wolfhowl Manor in this shadow of evil. It’s each of them and none of them; the most terrible version of the women who had lived and died here.

  How could you? How could you do this to me?

  The apparition advances toward us. Liam screams. I hide him behind me and back up as far as the fire will allow.

  You don’t get to leave me, Rose! No one gets to leave me!

  The black mass rushes at us and, terrified, I close my eyes.

  You die TONIGHT!

  The rush of cold black overtakes us and we fall backward through an open door. I bounce back up like I’m on springs. The spirit is gone. Grabbing Liam’s hand, I realize we’re in the fire room – where all the death in this house has occurred.

  No. It can’t be. We can’t die in here. Not here, in this room.

  I close the door against the fire and try to think. The fire is already glowing through cracks in the door. It’ll be in here any minute and make quick work of the already fire-eaten room. And then me. And then Liam. I choke on a sob, pulling Liam close.

  Oh, God, what do I do? And then I scream, “What do I do?”

  DIE!

  Think, Rose, I urge myself. Think.

  “Rosie!” Liam points to a corner. “The closet!”

  Smoke is now rolling into the room like a freight train and we start coughing. I search the room for anything better than crawling into a closet and dying, but find nothing. We dive into the tiny turret closet. The door still lays crumbled on the floor and there’s nothing to shield us. I push Liam into a corner behind me and watch as the fire fells the room’s door. I watch the hungry flames crawl into the room, eating up floorboards, licking the wallpaper, and chewing the weakened ceiling beams. It won’t be long now.

  “Huddle close, squiggle worm,” I say, pulling Liam close against me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Rosie.”

  I cover Liam with my body as we wait to die.

  Welcome home, my children.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The End

  The explosion of fire into the room breaks the windows and shakes the foundation. Liam screams and I hug him tighter. The flames engulf the fire room and make their way toward the little hole in the turret with ease. The air is so hot it actually begins to feel cool, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

  “Where’s that cold coming from?” Liam asks, his voice muffled at my side.

  “What?” The air around us is cooler. I lift my head and look around. Near the ceiling of the turret is a small gap – just small enough to squeeze a body through. What’s up there? My brain works quickly. Alva’s reading alcove in the library. Going up might not save us, but it’ll give me time to think, and maybe work out a plan.

  “Up here, Liam!” I shout over the roar of the fire. “Climb up through there!” I hoist him up, shoving him toward the crack. He grabs the edge and pulls himself up as I push him from below.

  “I’m stuck!” He cries. All I can see are his legs dangling from his waist. He kicks both feet in furious panic.

  “You’re not stuck,” I urge him. “Don’t panic. Take a deep breath.” His little legs swing slightly as he obeys. “Okay, now let out all the air in your lungs. Let it all out and suck in your stomach. Pretend your pants are too tight. You can do this, squiggle worm! I know you can!”

  I grab Liam’s feet and start pushing him up again, begging him to suck in his Little Debbie gut and climb. Finally, his weight disappears as he pulls himself through the crack.

  “Good job!”

  “Hurry, Rosie!” he shouts from above. “Hurry!”

  I jump, hoisting myself up as fire pours into the closet. The flames lick at my ankles, blisters springing to my flesh. The rubber soles of my sneakers start melting. I get stuck at the hips just like Liam did. I take my own advice as Liam grabs onto my arms and pulls on them so hard I think he’ll pull them off. I cry out as the wood scrapes my skin and my ankles roast above the flames before I finally work my way through the crack.

  It’s dark in the old library and I’d lost my torch downstairs. Flashes of lightning illuminate the room that had once captivated Enit with its treasure trove of books. The glow of the fire lights up the cracks in the floorboards and I’m seized by the urge to see it all burn, my suicidal plan returning. I finger the pack of matches in my pocket. I think about holding them to the books, about watching the old dried out pages curl and turn to ash.

  “Rosie?” Liam’s voice brings me back, and I think quickly, trying to remember the floor plan. The balcony! Maybe we can somehow climb down, or yell for help. It’s our only chance.

  “Stay here!” I tell Liam and run out of the library, heading for the balcony. I fling the door at the top of the stairs open, letting the wild rainstorm and a gust of drenching wind in. The balcony’s there alright, but not for long. The flames haven’t been beaten back by the downpour, and climb through the rotting wood. Even as I watch, the fire eats through the balcony. With a sickening creak, the structure pulls away from the side of the house, crumbling in midair. It falls into the darkness below, a hundred tiny torches hurtling to the ground. “No!”

  Harsh laughter fills my ears, drowning out the crackling fire and howling wind. I scream in reply, a terrible, wolf-like howl. My rage starts taking over like a feral animal.

  “You die tonight, you rotten old bitch!” I scream. “You die! Not me!” I run back into the library and grab Liam. I put him in the center of the open space outside the library. He cries and worries his hands in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m scared, Rosie! I’m scared!”

  “It’s okay,” I say, though my tone is not the least bit comforting. I sound manic, crazy. “It’s okay, I promise. I just have to do one quick thing, and then we’re going to the attic. We’re going out onto roof, okay? And when we get there, we’re going to scream. We’re going to scream as loud as we can, and someone is going to come. Someone will help us.”

  “Really?”

  No. “Really. Just wait here.”

  I leave Liam and stalk down the hall of portraits. I grab first one, then another, and another. I take all of them, grabbing ours last. Setting it on top of the stack of paintings, I stare a
t my family. A new face peers out at me – my own. I’m pale. My eyes are dark empty pits. My body has wasted away, become skeletal. My long hair is dull and frayed. I look like Mother.

  The house owns us all now.

  This realization strengthens my rage. I leave the portrait hall, hefting the paintings to the library, ignoring Liam’s terrified sobbing and the flickering light of flames as they creep to the top of the stairs. I throw the paintings on top of the pile of displaced classic literature and first additions. Then I pull out the pack of matches and smile – the old books and paintings won’t need help from gasoline.

  I strike a match and hold it up to the matchbook. The remaining matches blaze to life. I drop the burning pack onto the pile. It’s slow to start, but when the tiny flames catch the single page of an open book, the pile goes up like so much kindling. The canvases bubble and boil, the melting faces of the dead winking back at me.

  Noooooooo! The whole house shakes with her wrath. My collection!

  I stumble out of the library and grab Liam’s hand, dragging him away from the flames. Together, we run up the stairs to the attic and the widow’s walk, out into the storm.

  From here, the storm is awesomely terrifying and wild. I feel like I can reach out and touch the dark purple clouds, grab onto a spike of lightning and wield it like Zeus. Wind and rain lash at us from all sides and we’re both forced to grab onto the rickety railing for support. All four sides of the house are covered in flames, which leap higher every second, laughing at the rain. I pull Liam close. Then we scream for help.

  ***

  Back on the saturated ground, Beckan and Adam freeze.

  “Did you hear that?” Adam asks.

  “Shh!” Beckan closes his eyes and concentrates, waiting for the rumble of thunder to die out. And then he hears it again – the screams – “Help!”