by K. F. Breene
She tapped Dirk on the arm. And pointed.
Tingles spread through my body when they both stiffened. The feel of the room didn’t change. The pressure didn’t ease or increase. And yet…
“Let’s go,” Dirk said, grabbing Scarlet’s arm and yanking her in our direction.
“That wasn’t a little girl,” Scarlet said in a wispy voice.
“I know,” Dirk answered, motioning for us to get moving.
“That was a full-grown man—”
“Yes. Go Emily. Buffy.”
“—with a knife sticking out of his heart.”
“Yeah. Hurry.”
I spun and lunged through the kitchen, Braiden by my side. Our hurried footsteps, scuffing and squeaking on the tile, filled the space. The rest of the house remained quiet, no thumps, screams, or drifting music.
“I like this less than I liked the activity,” I murmured as we reached a door with no knob.
Braiden stepped in front of me and pressed his hand to the wood, pausing for a moment. I could barely see his jaw clench in the dim light before he shoved the door open and pushed through. Darkness greeted us—exactly what I would have hoped for a few minutes earlier. But that had been prior to the revelation that random men wandered the unlit halls with weapons sticking out of their person.
Shapes lurked in the darkness, low and long. A table, probably, with chairs dotting the sides, proving Scarlet was right about the design. The Old Woman would’ve eaten here at one time, though the house had probably never been as quiet or as dark as this.
Scarlet bumped into me. Unlike usual, she didn’t mutter an apology. Instead, a shaky hand came up and pointed out an archway within the room. There were no instructions to go with the leftward point.
“Cross your fingers.” I pushed forward, using the chairs to guide me around the table. When I reached the next archway, blessed light filtered in from the windows. I hurried toward the large windows, already smiling. That smile melted when I saw the bright moonlight filtering through the branches, throwing shadows onto what looked like a well-kept lawn.
The house might’ve been quiet for the moment, but that didn’t mean we were out of danger. We were still trapped in a bizarre connection between past and present.
“It’s like…” Odis stared out the window as Braiden moved through the room, picking up things and testing their heft. He was trying to find something with which to break a window. “Magic, almost. Paranormal magic.”
“It’s the worst magic I’ve ever heard about.” Buffy ran her hands along the frame of the window. “These have to open. Or… Wait. Shouldn’t there be a door close by?”
“Y-yes.” Scarlet cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said with more force. “In theory. Through that archway over there you’ll probably hit a large hallway that should take you, eventually, to the front entrance. Or side entrance. I’ve lost track of where we are.”
“Then what are we doing at the windows?” Buffy strode off toward the other archway embedded in the side of the room.
Emily watched her go with rounded eyes before taking a step that way. “Should someone go with her?”
“Wait, Buffy, wait for us,” I said, but she was already through the door.
“Not that I’m criticizing, but she does have a point,” Odis muttered. “Regarding finding a door instead of trying to bust through a window.”
Dirk stalked to the archway and looked through it as Braiden came back with an ancient fireplace poker. “They would assume we’d go for the door,” Braiden said as he hefted the poker in two hands. “That’s where I would wait to head us off.”
“Unlike you, we’re not dealing with people that have a police record,” Dirk spat.
“Are you sure?” Braiden retorted.
“You have a record?” Despite the situation, a lustful grin spread across Emily’s face. “You are a bad boy.”
Dirk glanced back, disgusted. For once, he and I were in agreement.
“Go,” I told Braiden. “Hit it, already.”
He swung in that perfect batter’s form, smacking the window with metal. It bounced off. Not a scratch marred the glass.
He did it twice more without stopping, violence and aggression fueling each swing. It didn’t help.
“I wonder if that will show tomorrow when the paranormal magic or whatever wears off,” Odis said in a strained voice.
“Let’s hope we’re around to find out,” Dirk muttered. “I can just barely see Buffy. She’s a room away. She looks like she’s about to… Yeah, she’s kicking the door.”
Sure enough, repeated dull thunks interrupted the renewed silence. Followed by a howl of frustration.
“The door won’t open,” Dirk said.
“I doubt any of us are surprised,” Scarlet said. “So now what?”
“We check out the second floor, I guess.” I shrugged. “Maybe the entities in here are using all of their energy to block off the first floor. Maybe they figure the second floor is too high for us to jump, so they aren’t expending any effort on protecting it. Or the third floor. Or the attic, if there is one.”
“They would have a solid point.” Odis looked upward. “Even if the windows opened, we wouldn’t be able to safely jump.”
“We could hang off the gutter and drop down.” Braiden started toward Buffy. “I’ve done that before.”
“Sounds like you’ve done it all,” Dirk said with disdain.
“You have really done a one-eighty since coming in here, Dirk,” Scarlet mused, voicing my thoughts as we passed through the archway toward Buffy. “From not believing in ghosts and following Braiden around like a lost puppy, to being the best at spot the ghost and giving Braiden snide comments. What gives?”
“It just took me a while to realize he was full of crap.” Dirk waited until everyone went by before stepping in line at the rear. “As for ghosts…I live on Ella’s street. How could I not know? My parents could only explain away things moving and doors slamming on their own for so long. After that, you enter into an unspoken agreement not to mention it. And do you know why?”
“Because it is social suicide to blab,” Odis said.
“Exactly,” Dirk said. “I’m not an idiot. I saw firsthand what would happen if someone spouted off a bunch of paranormal nonsense.”
“Even though it isn’t nonsense?” Scarlet asked.
“That’s just a matter of opinion,” Dirk replied. “This town does not want to speak about anything other than reality. End of story. If you persist in telling ghost stories that hit too close, you will be shunned. That’s how it is. That’s how it has always been. You should’ve just shut up and dealt with it, Ella, rather than parading your experiences all over town. You wonder why I hang with the popular crowd and you don’t? That’s why. Too bad for you that it’s too late to learn the lesson.”
“You are such a…”
I couldn’t see her, but I knew Scarlet was balling her fists and clamping down on a cuss word. Probably a nasty one, too. Dirk’s dark chuckle confirmed he knew it.
“This door won’t open,” Buffy said when we reached her. “It’s unlocked—see?” She threw the deadbolt, then dislodged it. “Unlocked. Yet…” She yanked on the handle with her whole body. “Stuck!”
“They all will be. The windows won’t break. Come on, we’re going to try the second floor.” Braiden turned toward the stairway deeper in the house, partially visible in the grand hall.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. A shoulder disappearing from view ahead of us.
I grabbed Braiden’s sleeve, tugging it to slow him. The wide stairwell with its decorative banisters came more thoroughly into view. A walkway swung around it, leading deeper into the house.
A man staggered out from that side. Blood ran down the front of his faded denim shirt, stemming from a hole near his heart. A knife glinted from his right hand, its bloody blade between his wide fingers.
He paused, braced, and brought the knife up.
To throw.
>
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Watch out,” I gasped, suddenly out of breath.
The man wound up, a sickly grin on his face.
Braiden shoved me to the side before diving the other way. “Get down!”
The knife tumbled end over end in the air, right down the heart of our group. I heard someone suck in a surprised breath. Metal tinkled across the floor.
“Run!” Buffy screamed. “Run!”
I jumped up, getting to my feet before Braiden, and sprinted for the stairs. Scarlet was right behind me, soon to overcome me thanks to her long legs.
The man let out an inhuman yell. He launched himself at Emily, who stood frozen in fear. His hands curled around Emily’s neck and he squeezed, shaking her with a manic expression.
Dirk moved toward her, but instead of helping her fend off the larger man, he turned to the side…and slipped past, running for the stairs.
“Help her!” I shouted, jostling through everyone to try and get to her, but Braiden was already on the move. He jumped from the bottom step and barreled into the man. The man’s grip came free, and Emily clutched at her neck and struggled for breath as I shoved Odis to the side.
“I got her.” Buffy turned back and ran to her friend, taking her by the arm and roughly dragging her out of the way.
Braiden punched the man in the face, making him stagger back. The solidity of the man’s body flickered, looking real one moment, and vaguely translucent the next. The man stopped and straightened. The sickly expression once again curled his lips.
“Come on,” I shouted at Braiden. “Run. Now!”
“Watch him.”
I knew that I should watch for the man to possibly find another knife on his person. Or in his person, as the case may be. But he needn’t have worried. The spectral man turned, spotted the knife on the ground, and walked with slow, unhurried steps to pick it up.
It was a big house, but with possibly limited escapes. The man probably knew he had time to find us again.
Heart hammering, I waited until Braiden was close and then ran after the others, hurrying to catch up. They ran up and right, seemingly running blindly.
“Wait,” I tried to say through panicked breaths. “Wait.”
Scarlet was in the lead, and though she was probably our best guide, she was also in full-on panic mode. She led the way through a room and out the other side, oil lamps providing light. These rooms appeared to be in perfect condition, untouched by years of neglect.
We followed through a room with shelves and racks before randomly turning left and into another bedroom.
Out the other side was a huge solarium. Moonlight poured down, shimmering on the banisters protecting people from falling down to the first story.
Scarlet tripped and fell against the banister. Dirk broke right, running for a dark room, and Buffy broke left, going for a flickering room through a wide-open door.
“Wait,” I shouted, stopping by Scarlet. “Wait, we need to think about this.”
Dirk stopped at the door, his hand braced against it, but Buffy kept running with Emily following behind.
“Dang it,” I muttered, struck with indecision.
“Let’s go after them,” Braiden said, breaking in their direction. “We need to stick together.”
Something hard poked my arm. I glanced over, expecting Scarlet, but the jab had seemingly come from nothing and nowhere.
“Ow,” Scarlet said from behind me, and she put a palm to her head.
I barely caught movement from one of the rooms along the hall running along the solarium, something flying out. It arched over us, visible in the moonlight, before clattering against the banister on the other side of where we stood. Another flew after it, just missing Dirk.
“What are you doing?” Braiden said, coming back for me.
A manic cackle blasted out of the room the rocks had come from. A huge shape stepped forward, a burly man wearing overalls and a dirty shirt beneath. His form wasn’t solid like the knife thrower, but it was solid enough for me to see the grisly, glistening wound extending from one ear to the other. His throat gaped open.
Braiden yanked out his smudge stick from one pocket, and a lighter from the other. The man paused, a smile taking over his face, as smoke rose from Braiden’s hands.
“This is not your place,” Braiden said in a loud, clear voice. “It is time for you to move on.”
The man lifted his head and cackled, the sound grating. He yanked back his arm, then let fly. It was only a small rock, but fear dumped into my system nonetheless.
“Go, go, go!” I put on a burst of speed, grabbing Scarlet and running through a stately room and around the corner. Braiden jogged backward, still trying to have some impact with his smudge.
A scream pierced the night. Buffy stood at the top of a flight of stairs, staring up in agony. “It just ends,” she cried. “It just ends!”
“What?” I let go of Scarlet and fought my way past Emily. Two flashlights clicked on and their beams fell across the smooth, featureless ceiling above Buffy’s head. “Is there a latch or something?” I asked, confusion warring with fear. “Check to see if there’s a latch.”
Buffy felt along the ceiling and then started banging on it.
“Who cares, let’s go,” Braiden called from the bottom, stick still smoking in his hand and apprehension covering his face. His hopes of banishing were clearly on the way out. “There’s plenty of house to run to.”
“But why is there a set of stairs that leads up to the ceiling?” Buffy banged again. “There has to be a reason this is here. Scarlet? There has to be a reason, right?”
Scarlet shook her head. “This was never mentioned. Construction like this was never mentioned.”
“Why does it matter?” Braiden demanded. “The stairway doesn’t lead anywhere. So what? Let’s go.”
Laughter filled the air. Something sailed past us and hit the stairs.
“It matters because this either means there are other strange traps and pitfalls around this house, and we need to be a lot more careful,” Scarlet said, thankfully thinking straight again, “or the path of this staircase was plugged up for some reason, and that speaks of…evil.”
“There is evil coming through that door.” Braiden gestured to the door we’d just run out of. “We need to move on and ponder this great mystery from another location!”
“Maybe she just didn’t finish renovating because she was stoned to death,” Dirk said. “This shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Or that, yes. That is probably option three.” Scarlet bit her lip.
Braiden was nearly dancing with anticipation. “With all due respect, standing there staring at it isn’t going to answer these questions.” He wiped his forehead and stared back the way we’d come. Mr. Overalls stared back with a smile and a handful of rocks.
“Yes. Right. Being chased. Must run.” Scarlet stepped away, clearly not thinking as clearly as I’d previously thought.
The lights in the room we’d just left slowly dimmed, until it was dark once again. The man and his laughter died away. Vanished, for no real reason. Silence reigned, if you discounted the harried breathing.
“Does that mean we’re safe?” Odis whispered.
Braiden held up his hand, listening.
Buffy didn’t seem to notice. She stomped down the steps to the bottom, her face streaked with tears. She wiped her forearm across her nose. “I am fed up with this dump of a house. Do you hear me? Fed. Up!”
“The haunting is certainly different from anything else I’ve ever seen,” I muttered, working to get my breath.
“Wait.” Dirk tilted his head. He took a hesitant step toward the banister as Braiden turned, his hand still raised and head tilted. They looked like a pair of dogs hearing a whistle.
Dirk bent over the banister, looking down, and I finally heard it. Heavy breathing and a stutter step, as though someone was half dragging one of their legs.
“Oh sh—” Dirk sagged against
the banister, his swear drifting away. Emily moved closer to him and looked over as well.
“Hello?”
The voice sounded hoarse and dry but vaguely familiar.
Emily gasped and slapped her hand to her mouth. Braiden scooted up a little closer, his expression pained. I moved close enough to see, then felt all the hope drain out of me.
“What is it?” Scarlet asked in a faint whisper, facing the rooms behind us. Odis leaned against the stairwell banister, his elbow in his hand, seemingly uninterested in the newcomer.
“Carl,” I said, my voice apologetic, though I had nothing to apologize for.
Blood coated the side of Carl’s head and dripped down his neck. He held his arm tightly to his chest, and I could see a couple fingers bent at odd angles. The jeans on the leg he was dragging were in shreds, and crimson glistened underneath.
“What happened?” Dirk asked, his voice flat and even. He was pushing away the emotion. He was ignoring his fear or panic. I now knew it was what had kept him calm at various points throughout the night. And while that seemed like a great tactic to deal with what was going on, it hadn’t helped Emily downstairs.
I moved a little closer to see Carl. Braiden followed, his hand braced protectively on my shoulder.
“I…” Carl blinked up at the light streaming in through the skylight high above. “I don’t know. There were people. Real people. They were chatting and drinking and talking. Laughing. They seemed like they were in a great mood. And we got a glass of wine. It tasted weird, but I drank it. I actually drank it. It was real. But then…” He slid his leg closer before swaying. “I don’t know. Suddenly they were attacking us. The girls, DJ—they were screaming. I was screaming. And they were ripping our skin…”
“We have to get him help,” Emily said.
Dirk gave Emily a flat look. “How are we going to get him help? We can’t get out.”