by K. F. Breene
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Miss Potters snapped. “Braiden, open the door!” She swung the gun away from me and toward Braiden.
I seized my opportunity.
My elbow hit her on the breast plate. The breath whooshed out of her lungs, but I wasn’t done yet. I swung around, bringing the other elbow up to face height. I’d learned the hard way not to use my fist on a face. I smacked her right in the cheek. Spittle flew out of her mouth and her whole body jerked to the side.
The gun went off, blasting a hole in the wall left of Braiden. He launched forward to grab it, but Miss Potters raised it as she staggered, much better with it than I’d given her credit for.
“Get out of the—”
The blast of the gun drowned out my words. This shot barely missed Scarlet, who was already running for the shadows, thankfully away from the secret door.
I didn’t waste any time. I scurried around the corner and sprinted for the nearest support post.
“Get back here!” Miss Potters screeched.
“Get help,” I heard Braiden yell before another gunshot ripped through the space.
As much as I hated the thought of separating from them, he was right. I ran back toward the steps. Darkness blanketed my vision. Deep shadows pooled everywhere the feeble light from the small and high windows didn’t touch.
I felt my way mostly from memory, bumping into a beam and kicking something that rattled. The screeching from deeper in the basement stopped. Miss Potters was listening for me.
Breath harried, hoping the others were hiding or at least moving targets, I kicked the wood of the steps and tripped, falling against the banister. Circling around it in a flash, I pounded my feet against the wood as I ran up. Light danced behind me. Miss Potters was hurrying my way.
Heart racing, at the top of the stairs I slid my palm against the wall and ran, trusting there would be nothing in my path until I reached the crossways. Turning toward the side of the house, I hurried along, the light from the windows in front of me letting me increase my speed.
Nearly there now, I hazarded a glance back to make sure Miss Potters wasn’t standing in the hall, aiming her handgun.
Empty. Oh thank heav—
“My, my, where are you going in such a hurry?”
I whipped my head back around.
John stepped into the hallway, as easy and nonchalant as an oil tycoon, with his pristine suit and clean white pocket square. A charming smile lit his handsome face and his left hand stayed casually in his pants pocket.
I skidded to a halt, unable to help my scream.
Nothing about his presence ignited my senses. I didn’t feel any prickles or tingles of the otherworldly, nor even the awareness of a dangerous stranger in my midst. Nothing.
“You are a wily one, I must say.” His smile grew. “But this is where it ends. You don’t have your protector by your side anymore. It’s just you and me, and I have oh so much power left.”
I looked around desperately, taking in the darkened walls and the darkened halls behind me. “But nothing else is active. This area of the house is not active.”
“Not all of us are tied to this house.” He sauntered closer. “Some of us have risen above such trivial entrapments. We can go anywhere, to any house. That’s how I met the desperate Miss Potters. Such a shame, the life she lives. Did you know she has five cats? Five. And in such a small house. There is cat hair everywhere. I loathe spending time there. Luckily, she needs very little persuading. She is a sucker for romance, and wouldn’t you know, I excel at pleasing ladies.”
“Ew. How is that even poss— Never mind, I don’t want to know.” I backed up a step, knowing that he stood between me and freedom. I was so close. So close.
A gunshot rattled my bones, echoing out from the basement, I knew. Miss Potters had left me to John, and was going after Braiden and Scarlet.
“You can’t run, Ella. There is nowhere you can go to escape me. I will be in front of every door. Within every room. I have but to wish it, and I will be there. I am as close to a magical being as there can be. You will succumb to me, just like all the others. You will succumb so that I can complete the ritual and claim your soul. You have so much power in you, Ella. I must harness it. But have no fear: I offer a trade. You will be granted eternal life. In death, you will live forever. You will rule by my side.”
“Make that promise to all the ladies, do you? Does no one ask what they’d be ruling? Because wandering around a funky old house with a bunch of homicidal ghosts seems like a pretty miserable way to spend eternity.” My mind worked furiously, trying to think of a way around this. Should I run back down to the others and hope for power in numbers? Call his bluff and try to get out another way? Or just sprint right at him to see if I could power by?
I thought of my earlier struggle with Braiden. He’d been gentle despite his determination. He hadn’t hit me or shown excessive force. I doubted John would afford me the same courtesy. He wouldn’t want to, after all. His end game was to kill me.
“I won’t stay here,” I said, losing more ground to John’s slow advance. “I won’t stay. I’ll cross to the other side and will be forever out of this world. I won’t help you.”
He laughed. “But you will help me. I’ve had plenty of practice at snatching souls and keeping them here. It is amazing the things you can do if you really apply yourself. Like ignoring the lure of my dear wife. Not even your boyfriend could withstand her, and yet…here you are.”
“You are the reason she died so horribly.”
“Yes.”
I stammered for something else to say, losing more steps. I was nearly at the hallway I’d emerged from. I needed to make a choice. Had to.
“How could you do it?” I asked through clenched teeth, bending and straightening my knees, trying to work up some courage.
He spread his hands. “The townspeople saw her as a murderer. What could I do? She’d outgrown her usefulness.”
“Why did she protect you?” I clenched my hands. I had no choice but to run for it. I would tear through the house and try to get out another way. It was the only viable option. I just had to actually make the move.
“Because she thought it was her fault. She thought everything was her fault. The losses, my grief, her grief—everything.” He laughed a little to himself. “It is so easy to control someone. You merely need to find their trigger. Did you know there are drugs that can cause a miscarriage? Drugs that can be hidden in drinks, for example. Doctors who can be bribed. Anyone can be bought, and anyone can be manipulated. I’d thought I would have to hunt in new towns after she was stoned, but no. She stayed and continued to hunt for me. That’s when I realized about the special blood…” He touched his finger to his nose. “Strongest in children. My dear wife must’ve had it, and she seeks it out in others. Through trial and error, and succumbing to the ultimate fate myself, I’ve been able to harness the magic. The power. To drink from the Fountain of Youth, as it were. I do not age, nor am I restricted by the perils of human flesh. I am invincible. And in you, I will harvest greatness. My power will be mighty.”
“You’re not invincible, you’re dead.” My stomach rolled. “You’re sick.”
His smile was sly. “Doctors would say so, yes. I prefer to think of myself as a soul collector. This house is my shrine.”
“You collect the damaged and disgusting.”
“And the innocent.” He stuck up his finger. “Mustn’t forget the innocent.”
“You’re a ghost, plain and simple. A strong ghost, fine, but a ghost all the same. All ghosts can be banished, one way or the other.”
He laughed, and it was clear he didn’t believe me.
I turned to sprint away.
Hands grabbed me from behind and yanked me back. The blistering cold of his touch soaked into my skin.
“Get off.” I ripped my arm away, but he gripped the other arm he held tighter, pinning me.
I kicked back with my heel as the hand wrapped around my fac
e. It covered my nose and mouth, cutting off my air. Ghostly lips touched the shell of my ear.
“You will be mine for eternity.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Black dots swam before my eyes. My lungs burned for air. I struggled and twisted, but when he wrapped a hand around my middle, nothing I did helped. He held me fast, draining my energy as my body used up my oxygen.
Tears filled my eyes and my body convulsed, on the edge of asphyxiation. This was it. This was the end. After all the time I’d spent refusing to leave my house, I’d delivered myself into the clutches of a murderer anyway. It just happened to be a different murderer than the one I was expecting.
A tear ran down my cheek, and I was about to think my final farewell when John grunted and his grip suddenly loosened. He grunted again, his hand slipping off my mouth.
I gasped, knocked away from him and to the ground. Impossibly strong arms wrapped around me and I was flung through the air. I hit the wall and slid down to my side, coughing and choking, sucking in huge lungfuls of sweet, blessed air.
“I was such a fool to trust you,” someone said in a bell-like voice.
It was her. The younger Old Woman!
She stood in front of me, her feet spread wide apart, holding a baseball bat. Both of their forms glowed just a little, revealing them as the spirits they were.
“It was you the whole time. And to think, I blamed myself.” She tapped the bat against her palm. “Now I know. Better late than never.”
He hunched a little, like a fighter ready for a charge. “You are no match for me, Florence. You know that. I proved it to you, over and over.”
She huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I’m not the same woman I was, John: weak of the flesh and, by then, the mind. For one, I’m dead. You might’ve been stronger than me then, but you aren’t now.”
“Is that a fact?”
“It is. As you know. This is my house. I allow you to use it for your base, John. I did so out of misery.” She tapped the bat against her palm. “No more. You’ve plagued this town long enough. As have I. This is the end.”
A sneer twisted his lips. “This is only the beginning. She will give me new life, I feel it.”
“She is not yours.”
Their speed was incredible. They ran at each other, clashing like superheroes. The bat swung, cracking him across the face. He flew back and rammed into the wall. No sooner did she swing to finish the job than he ducked and leapt at her, snatching the bat from her hands.
She punched forward with both fists, driving them into his chest. Her lips pulled back into a silent snarl and a war cry tore loose from her throat. She yanked out her hands, pulling black, stringy clumps with them.
Acid rose through my throat and I dry-heaved, but he wasn’t done. He swung the bat up before bringing it down on her shoulder. The crack elicited another dry heave. She kicked , and I noticed she had on heels right before the spike of one of them dug into the area between his legs.
His howl of pain curled my toes. He swung the bat wildly, bent awkwardly at the waist.
“The memory of pain is still present in you, as is the memory of pleasure,” Florence said knowingly. “You try to hold on to this world. You are connected to it. Which means that no, John, you will never truly be free. Once this house is finally given its rest, you will be a listless spirit, wandering from place to place, homeless. It will be a horrible existence, and I am thankful to be the one to give it to you.”
He took another crack at her with the bat, but she stopped it with her hands, wrapping her fingers around the wood and ripping it away.
He flung a hand up to protect his head. She swung the bat down, cracking his forearm. And again, getting his shoulder. And again, his head.
I turned away, shuddering and heaving and knowing they were dead and this wasn’t actually real and still not able to stand it. A groan rumbled through the house, deep and low. The floor beneath me trembled. Shrieks and howls joined the strange groan, until the unrest died down. The strange surge of emotion that had filled the air finally settled. Morning light filtered through the windows.
Silence settled down, and a feeling of utter peace rose through me.
I pulled my hands away from my head, not even realizing I’d ducked and covered in the first place. John was gone, leaving the hallway empty but for me, and the woman-not-really-a-woman. The younger Old Woman who had saved me from a truly horrible fate. Florence.
Her expression was sad and a single tear sparkled as it ran down her smooth cheek. “Thank you,” she said, and I felt her emotions radiating. The sudden calm, gratitude, and overwhelming peace that now overwhelmed me. “Thank you. You have put me at rest.”
And with that, her form blinked before fading into the lightening hall around her.
A moment passed. Then another. All I could do was stare at the spot where the woman had stood. Warmth blanketed me, a strange mixture of joy and relief.
“Ella?” I heard someone call. It was the first time I was happy to hear this particular voice. “Ella!”
Dirk limped toward me, a bad gash in his thigh oozing blood down the side of his leg. Behind him lumbered Mr. Morris, his face screwed up with worry. Three men in blue trailed behind him.
Help had finally arrived.
“Miss Potters. It’s Miss Potters! She’s been killing the kids!” I pointed in the direction of the hallway. “She’s armed. Braiden and Scarlet are trapped down there with her.”
“We know, Ella.” Mr. Morris knelt by me as the police ran down the hall, all of them armed. “Dirk saw her shoot Leo and take Scarlet. He ran out the back to get help and found me. I called the cops from my car phone. I’m sorry—I would’ve been here sooner, but the police wanted us to wait for them before we went in.”
“You were at the back?” I asked, not sure who to trust anymore.
Sorrow made deep lines in his face. “That’s where I broke in when I was a kid. My best friend and I. We had no idea what this house was capable of. There were so many stories…we wanted to see for ourselves.” He helped me stand and waited for me to check myself over. Many sensitive areas, but nothing broken. “We got separated, and he never made it back out. They found his body, mangled and twisted. No human could’ve done that. The things I saw…that I ran from…” He shook his head. “I apologize for being so hard on you in school. But this house is better left forgotten.”
He must’ve been allowed in when the Old Woman had finished confessing her sins. She’d shut the paranormal in the old house down. Except for John. What he had said must’ve been true—he’d harnessed enough power to stay separate from the house. He wouldn’t be allowed to use it as a base, but that apparently didn’t mean he’d vanish from the world of the living.
Just so long as he vanished from the town—and given the house’s influence on our community, I was betting he would—it would have to be somebody else’s problem.
“I’d never heard about that,” I said in disbelief. Seemed like it should’ve been common knowledge, especially given the principal’s anti-ghost-story rule.
“People don’t talk about what goes on in this house. It’s better that way. Safer. Just ignore it, and it will ignore you.”
“It didn’t ignore me,” I muttered, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
“You knew it was Miss Potters,” I said, thinking back to how he’d kept Scarlet and me in his office.
He shook his head and walked Dirk and me to a spot near the windows to wait for the police to do their work. I stared down the hall, torn between my desperation to help my friends and the knowledge that it was a terrible idea to get in the way with all the armed people down there.
“I thought something was fishy with her…” Mr. Morris said, watching the hall—one hand on my shoulder, and one on Dirk’s. “Something was off. She was erratic at times, and it struck me that she always paid special attention to any child who was rumored to have seen the Old Woman. In the last few years, she has paid even more attention
to you. It didn’t seem healthy. Now, granted”—he shifted uncomfortably—“I didn’t think it was anything like this—”
Shouts echoed out of the basement. Gunfire made me jump, followed by more shots. A woman screamed, someone yelled, and another gun went off.
“I thought she had a fascination with ghost stories…maybe even cold cases,” he said into the sudden silence, his voice thick and trembling. “That was all. That was plenty, but I had no idea… Or I wouldn’t have employed…”
Two figures emerged from the hallway, sandwiching a police officer. A relieved gush of breath left my mouth. Braiden and Scarlet. Alive!
I ran at them, my arms held out. They met me halfway, crashing into me and wrapping me in their arms as I hugged them. We sank to the ground, clinging to each other and crying. Someone called Dirk over, and he joined the huddle. No one needed to talk, because we all felt the same way—thankful to be alive and hopeful more would be found alive with us.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Ella, get the door!” my mother shouted from upstairs before the knocking even stopped.
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I hurried to put my bowl in the sink. My father looked up from the fridge, narrowing his eyes at me. “Is it that boy again?”
It had been one week since we’d been rescued from McKinley Mansion, and Braiden had stopped by every single day to check on me. Today would be our first day back at school. So many emotions were running through me I could scarcely think.
“The Corvette was taken away, remember? We’re going to take the bus together,” I said, then patted him on the back and hurried to the door.
“I don’t like him,” my dad called after me. “He is bad news. Got in a lot of trouble back in New York. You don’t need that sort…” As usual, his complaints evolved into muttering.
I was pretty sure he only brought that stuff up because he felt it was his duty as my dad, but he knew that if it weren’t for Braiden, I probably wouldn’t have made it out of the mansion alive. Even succumbing to Florence had been the right move, given the alternative.