by K. F. Breene
She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but only because I have no other use right now.” She clasped her hands in front of her as I reached the door, slightly ajar.
“Careful,” Braiden said, quickly at my side.
“DJ, there are a great many problems that you might’ve noticed,” Scarlet began, “like the oil lamps that haven’t been used in decades suddenly coming to life. On their own. Or the music drifting out of that swinging door. But what you might not have realized is that the glass I dropped on the floor was filled with what smelled like fresh, sweet brandy wine. Ghostly items don’t shatter, DJ. They disappear. If wine sat in that room for decades, it would no longer be wine. So you see, there is a lot wrong, DJ, with this whole setup. A lot wrong, and if we aren’t careful, we will panic and make a life-threatening mistake. To head off your next question, yes, I am saying that if we panic, we will surely die.”
“I take it back,” Odis muttered as I spread my palms against the wood, my eyes on the dark sliver between the door and the frame. “She’s laying it on a little thick now.”
“That’s because I’m freaked out of my mind, Odis,” Scarlet said, rounding on him. “And all these mind-boggling questions are frying any ability to remain calm—”
“Well, if the glass was real, and the wine was real, then…that solves it, right?” Carl pushed toward the small room. Everyone looked around, not sure what that solved. “I mean, she just said ghost stuff disappears. That glass didn’t disappear. And that music is definitely real. So…this place isn’t haunted. It’s being used by squatters.” A laugh rode his release of breath. “So that’s no big deal. They’re probably more afraid of us than we are of them.”
“Except…squatters don’t have string orchestras and fancy glasses to put their fancy wine in,” Scarlet said, having regained control. “They use bags and drink directly out of the bottle. And though your argument might be true if we were dealing with small rodents, I’m not convinced it applies to criminals.”
“It’s probably just someone from the city that traveled up here to use this old house. I mean, it’s a pretty cool house if you look past all the creepy stuff.” Carl brushed his hand along the wall beside the door. “Look at this wallpaper. It’s really neat. It’s like braille.”
Clarissa’s face crumpled. “Do you even know what braille is?”
“It has to be expensive, that wallpaper,” Buffy said, looking it over with a shrewd eye. “But still, what about the lamps lighting themselves?”
“Um, hello?” Carl’s eyebrows rose. “Lighting effects?”
I pushed the door open and looked into the darkened space behind, no light from candles or windows to help me determine what was in there, or even if the space was big or small. I took a step through the door. Chill air washed over me, but the pressure in the air didn’t increase. “The coast is clear. For now.”
“They are oil lamps,” Scarlet was saying to Carl.
“They look like oil lamps—” He paused, and I figured he was probably making a gesture to punctuate his point. “But that doesn’t mean they are actually oil lamps. The owner of this house is filthy rich. They can make a light look like anything they want, and connect it to a sensor.” Another pause. “Easy.”
“Except the owner is long dead and no one has lived in this house for decades,” Scarlet argued.
“That we know of,” Carl retorted.
“I think we’d know—”
“Let’s get moving,” Braiden said, cutting Scarlet off. “This way looks clear.”
“That way looks dark and creepy,” Carl said. The onlookers murmured their agreement.
DJ stepped forward, renewed confidence showing in his straight shoulders and raised chin. “I don’t know about you guys, but I am tired of dark and creepy. It’s been fun, and it’ll certainly make for a good story, but it’s time to call it a night. I say we get out of here and find us some beer.”
“Dude, there is wine just through there.” Carl pointed at the door he was still standing next to.
“What about Cliff?” Emily asked.
Carl waved his hand through the air. “What about Cliff? That dude ran like a coward.”
DJ nodded and strolled to the door leading to the nook. “I agree. Let’s go.”
“You guys, wait.” Scarlet held out her hands, fear rolling over her face. “What you’re saying is crazy. Use your heads. You know this house has been empty for years. All of you know that. If someone lived here, people would’ve seen lights. Heard music.”
“We see the lights. Hear the music.” DJ pushed open the door.
I stepped forward. “You only see and hear them right now. While we’re trapped inside. They aren’t real.”
“Save it, Fella. We’ve had enough of your stories.” DJ walked out of sight.
Carl laughed at me before waving the others on. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“And now we know how a town steeped in ghosts can convince itself that the paranormal is a bunch of malarkey,” Odis mumbled. “A better study couldn’t have been set up.”
Shana stepped away first, her face blanched and jaw tight. She’d been so quiet that I’d completely forgotten she was in the group. Maria and Clarissa followed, clutching each other. They all glanced back at Buffy and Emily. “You coming?” Maria asked, still cradling her injured hand.
Buffy looked between them and my group, her face hard to read. Finally, she huffed and walked in my direction. “You think I’m going to believe guys who can barely read over a bunch of nerds? Dream on.”
“Backhanded compliment,” Scarlet muttered.
“I’m going with her.” Emily, hunched over and wringing her hands, scampered after Buffy.
“Are you serious?” Maria’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head. “Whatever. Hang around in a dank pit.” She moved to flick her hair with her hurt hand—the dominant one—before wincing and stopping. “You’ll see.”
“Enjoy your warm beer,” Buffy said, standing near me. She made an L-shape with her fingers and put it to her forehead.
That left Leo standing on his own in the middle of the hall in the flickering light.
“You too?” Carl gave Leo an incredulous look. “You’d rather hang out with a bunch of nerds than party with the rest of us?”
But Leo didn’t look at us. He glanced at the door through which Cliff had disappeared. “It’s not right, leaving Cliff behind.” Leo raised his flashlight. “I’m going to go after him.”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” I said.
Leo shrugged. “I’m the one that talked him into coming. I should go get him. I’ll see you guys later.”
I watched him disappear through the door, his shoulders hunched and his flashlight out. A moment later, the darkness swallowed him.
“Suit yourself.” Carl swung his glance our way as Maria and Clarissa paused beside him. “You sure?” he asked us as a group. Then he shifted his gaze to Braiden. “Think it through, man. She’s hot, I’ll grant you, but seriously, dude, she’s frigid. Not to mention seriously weird. Not worth the hassle. Ask Dirk.”
Wait…where was Dirk?
Ignoring Scarlet muttering about pigs, I looked around for Dirk, finally spotting him off to the side by himself, immersed in a shadow. He stood stock-still, staring back the way we’d come when entering the house.
“You’ll want to come with us, man. Seriously.” Carl waved Braiden over. “We can get girls all day long. Cool chicks that’ll let you do anything. I’m looking out for you on this one.”
Braiden didn’t so much as shift. Scarlet reacted enough for the both of them, her face closing down in anger and a distinctive finger being raised.
“I’m good,” Braiden said. Scarlet nodded, finger still held high.
Carl chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t come crying to me when you don’t round the bases.”
“See ya,” Braiden said.
Carl shrugged. “All right.” Goofy grin still in place, he shoved his way past the girls and int
o the room. His delighted exclamation indicated he’d found the wine. Clearly he didn’t have a problem drinking strangers’ leftovers.
“Let’s go,” Braiden said, putting his hand on my back.
“Wait.” I nodded toward Dirk.
Braiden squinted, probably having a hard time picking Dirk’s frame out of the shadow. “Dirk?”
Dirk startled, looking around with large eyes. He blinked a few times at the empty spot where the small crowd had stood not long before, as if he’d only just realized the group had split up. His gaze shot back in the other direction. “We need to hurry. They don’t like us in their space.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A giggle drifted down the corridor.
“What did you see?” I asked Dirk as Braiden pushed through the door and pulled me behind him.
“Hurry,” Dirk seethed, pushing Buffy and Emily in front of him. “A little girl. The one from the porch. She was taunting me, I could tell. Something else was lurking in the shadow with her. It started to emerge right when you called my name. These aren’t ordinary house ghosts. These are…dangerous.”
“How do you know all that?” Buffy asked in a thick voice.
“It’s not hard to know when they’re around. They give you all kinds of signs.” Dirk slammed the door behind us, dunking us into inky blackness. “Then it’s just a matter of picking out the form. And avoiding it. If you can.”
“But you always said Ella was full of it,” Odis said, clicking on his flashlight.
I grabbed it out of his hand and clicked it off. “Shut up, everyone.”
A new sensation settled onto my shoulders. Thick and aggressive, it slithered along my skin and sent spikes of adrenaline through my blood. A low rumble vibrated the floor.
“Go.” Dirk shoved the girls, pushing them toward us. “Go!”
I didn’t ask questions, though I had a million of them dating all the way back to our childhood. I did as he said.
I ran.
Screams erupted, muffled yet dense, from somewhere else in the house. Braiden grunted and something went clattering across the ground. My hip hit the corner of something—a small table, I thought—knocking me to the side. Scarlet barreled into me a moment later, clutching for something to keep her upright.
One of the screams cut out. Male voices hollered, their pitch rising in intensity.
“What’s happening?” Emily said, her breath coming fast and shallow. “What’s happening to them?”
“Keep going,” Dirk said, his voice still flat and even, though now with an edge. “Just keep going.”
The agonized screaming reached a fever pitch. I ground my teeth, my whole body shaking.
“Braiden,” I managed, struggling with Scarlet’s weight and my panic.
The male voices cut out, followed by the last screamer. Disgusting silence rained down on us.
Braiden’s arm wrapped around my middle, pulling me to him. Scarlet lost her grip and fell. Her limbs slapped off the tile, the sound ringing in the silence.
“What just… What just…” Odis’s voice trailed away.
“Keep going,” Dirk said into the hush.
“Scarlet?” I called softly, my focus fraying, memories of those screams echoing through my head.
“I got her,” Emily said with a thick voice heavy with unshed tears. “I have gym with her. She’s the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen.”
“That didn’t need to be said.” Scarlet grunted, probably as Emily helped her up. “Just have to focus on logic.” It sounded like she was talking to herself. “Focus on logic. Get out of here. Focus on that. You can come apart when you’re safe.”
“Okay.” Odis sniffed, which turned into a grossly wet sound, like he’d wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He’d thought she was talking to him, and why not? Her words applied to each and every one of us. “Okay.”
“They’re probably okay,” Buffy said in a hollow voice. “They were probably just psyching us out. Carl and DJ are dumb like that.”
“Yeah,” Emily said quietly. “That’s probably it. Then they’ll make fun of us for choosing the nerds when we get out of here.”
“No doubt.”
Frail light suddenly glimmered to life ahead of us, shining down from the ceiling. It spilled down the side of what looked like a butcher’s block and spread across a counter top.
“The kitchen,” Scarlet said, back by my side. “Which makes sense, given the location of the ballroom and dining rooms. Look, a door.”
We hurried that way in twos, the area, though large, sectioned off by furniture and the natural contours of the structure. When we reached the other door, we peeked through, trying to see what lay beyond.
“How is it looking behind us?” Braiden asked Dirk.
“I have no idea. I can’t see in the dark.”
More low light greeted us on the other side, a window letting in traces of moonlight, highlighting a row of basins.
“What are the odds that the windows through here would lead outside?” I asked.
“Unless you can climb three stories or fly, nonexistent,” Scarlet said. “Mrs. McKinley loved light and hated wasting money. She had a lot of solariums and sunrooms built into this place because of it.”
“How would that save money?” Emily asked.
“They wouldn’t need as many candles or as much oil.” Scarlet peered around me for a moment before moving toward the left. Since she hadn’t let go of my sweater, she took me with her.
Since I was a chicken, I yanked on Braiden to follow.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“That would be the laundry room. Mrs. McKinley was good to her employees. She gave them the best. Kept building until the day she died. A large laundry room, a well-stocked kitchen and pantry—this place isn’t just one room; it’s several clustered together. But through one of these doors—I can’t remember the layout exactly—is a small staff dining room. Beside that is a larger personal dining room where Mrs. McKinley took her meals alone between the deaths of her husbands—”
“You mean the killings of her husbands?” Buffy said.
“We’ll never know.” Scarlet paused. “I hope. Anyway, if we can find her personal dining room, it’ll be connected to a sitting room, I guarantee it. These old houses are filled with sitting rooms, and those rooms were all located at the sides of the house to let in a lot of light. It’s no good having guests if you can’t see them.”
“Any idea of direction?” Braiden said, his hand squeezing mine.
“Well, let’s use logic. That is the laundry room, which should be the opposite direction or thereabouts to the dining room, right? We’ll need to go through the kitchen. So let’s go this way.” She reached through Braiden and I to point.
We passed a large fireplace with a hanging pot.
“Cobwebs,” Odis muttered as we passed.
“That’s a good sign,” Dirk whispered.
“Why?” Emily asked.
“Because it means there’s not much activity in this area.” I crept along with Braiden quietly. “This kitchen would be a madhouse if the McKinleys were throwing a party. The fact that it’s so quiet and…old means we’re still in reality.”
“Reality is good,” Odis said on a release of breath.
“I can’t believe I am actually going along with this.” Buffy tsked. “This better be as messed up as it seems, or there will be hell to pay. Carl will have a field day.”
“Carl was screaming a moment ago,” Dirk said in a hard voice. “I wouldn’t worry about him making fun of you.”
A stack of old pots and pans lined two shelves—the heavier ones on the bottom shelf or floor, and the others tilted every which way, stacked on top of one another. The dim light highlighted layers of cobwebs, all blessedly empty.
“Doorway,” said Emily, pointing to her side. “Hallway leading from it. See?”
“Odis, check it out,” I instructed.
“No way. Are you insane? You have my f
lashlight.”
“I’ll do it.” Dirk pushed Odis out of his way and gingerly grabbed the doorknob.
“Why are there doors for every room?” Buffy whispered. “We don’t have a door between our living room and kitchen.”
“You have central heating,” Scarlet answered. “They had fireplaces that used wood or coal. They needed a way to keep the heat trapped during the cold winter months.”
Dirk pulled on the door, but it didn’t move. My heart revved up. He used both hands and pulled again. After a breathless moment, the door jerked free of its frame, the hinges squealing.
The group collectively released a breath.
A heavy crash rumbled across the ceiling. I jumped and clutched Braiden. Scarlet jumped and clutched me.
“What was that?” Emily asked, looking up.
“This is a dining room,” Dirk said, ignoring Emily.
“For staff or the owners?” Scarlet asked.
“How can I tell?”
“Is it big or small, with nice furnishings or simple ones? Honestly, am I the only one who knows about older-styled homes?”
“Yes,” Emily and Buffy said at the same time.
Loud thumping came from above. Something hit the floor and rolled, and ten feet away, another crash shook the ceiling.
That sounded like someone fighting. But was it someone from the past, or had the occupants of the house found Cliff or Leo?
A chill settled in my core.
“It’s a good size,” Dirk said, not having so much as glanced upward. He had a knack for ignoring terrifying goings-on. “Rectangular table that could seat—”
“Just go look.” Buffy shoved Scarlet in that direction.
Scarlet stubbed her toe and tipped forward, her arms swinging. She shoved at the door and then clawed Dirk’s arm, trying to find purchase. He turned and grabbed her, hauling her to her feet.
“Watch out,” he said, stepping out of her way.
“It’s not like I asked to be shoved across the room.” She dusted herself off for no real reason and peered through the doorway. “For the staff. Okay, so…” She looked down the hallway Emily had pointed out, leading right. “That hall would take them to other parts of the house without the owners or guests seeing. Then…” She put out her finger and turned, pointing in the direction we’d been heading. “I think this is right. I really do.” With a last look the other way, she nodded and started to say “yes,” except the word trailed away.