The Burning

by R. L. Stine

  Something near his hand caught his attention.

  A long sheet of paper with scribbled words down one side. Scribbled names.

  The servant’s list.

  The newly written name at the bottom of the list, the ink still dark and fresh.

  LUCY GOODE.

  “Nooooooooooo!” A wild animal howl erupted from deep inside him.

  “Not a Goode! Not a Goode in my house!”

  Simon truly believed the Goodes had vanished from the earth. He believed he had killed the last of them—Frank Goode—back in Wickham when he was still a boy.

  He believed that the curse had ended that long-ago day. That no member of the Goode family could ever threaten the Fears again.

  And now here was a Goode hiding in his own household, carrying on the evil of the Goodes against the Fears—murdering his Julia!

  “Nooooooo!” Simon grasped the silver pendant tightly in one hand. He felt its warmth, felt its power.

  His rage carried him into the front parlor.

  He picked out a sword from the new collection of war relics. He waved it high. It gleamed in the light from the gas lamps.

  He followed the sword’s gleam.

  Running frantically, bellowing his rage, Simon followed the glow of the sword through the house.

  I will find her. I will find Lucy Goode!

  I will put an end to the evil she has brought to my house, to my family!

  “Simon! What are you doing! Simon!”

  Was that Angelica calling to him from the stairway?

  He did not slow down. He followed the glowing sword. Glowing like a torch now. Glowing with the heat of his vengeance.

  “Simon—stop!”

  Angelica sounded so far away.

  I will find her. I will find the maid—

  There she stood!

  A bright blurred figure walking toward him, beyond the blinding glow of the sword blade.

  Yes! He had found her!

  Yes!

  The maid. The Goode. A Goode walking in his very own hallway.

  “Simon—stop!” Angelica called.

  But Simon could not stop.

  He lowered the gleaming sword.

  The girl shrieked and threw her hands up in terror.

  He had her. He had her now.

  The sword glowed so brightly, so brightly he could see only its light.

  “Simon—stop! Stop!” Angelica screamed.

  But Simon plunged the sword deep into the maid’s chest.

  Chapter 21

  The light shimmered around Simon, blinding white light.

  As he thrust the sword into Lucy Goode and she uttered a choking gasp of pain, the light grew even brighter.

  A small round dark spot formed in the center of the light. The spot grew, spreading its darkness.

  It took Simon a while to realize that the spot was blood, blood staining the front of the girl’s dress.

  Darker, darker. The spot expanded until it blocked out the light.

  And as the darkness grew and the shimmering light faded, Simon’s vision was restored. He could see clearly once again.

  Still holding the long ebony handle of the sword, staring at the blood as it stained the dress, Simon could see. Could see that he hadn’t stabbed Lucy Goode.

  He had thrust the sword deep into his own daughter’s chest.

  “Simon! Simon!” Angelica’s shrill cries repeated in his ears, shutting out all other sounds, shutting out his own horrified thoughts. “Simon! Simon! Simon!”

  Then Hannah fell forward and slumped into her father’s arms, as his sword clanged heavily to the floor.

  Warm blood poured over Simon’s evening shirt. Hannah’s blood.

  She uttered a soft moan. Her lips continued to move after all sound had died.

  All sound except Angelica’s shrill chant: “Simon! Simon! Simon!”

  Hannah died in Simon’s arms, her head lying heavily against his shoulder, her soft blond hair brushing his cheek, falling over his shoulder.

  Hannah dead. Julia dead.

  Angelica shrieked, her eyes shut tight, pulling frantically at her long black hair.

  Robert held his brothers, turning them away from the hideous scene before them.

  Mrs. MacKenzie sobbed against the wall, burying her face in her apron.

  “I—I thought it was Lucy Goode,” Simon sputtered.

  “Lucy Goode resigned this afternoon,” Mrs. MacKenzie replied through her sobs. “She could not bear Miss Hannah’s accusations. She packed her bag and departed.”

  With a quiet shudder Simon held his lifeless daughter. As he struggled to keep her on her feet, they appeared to be dancing, a strange, sad, awkward last dance.

  Hannah is gone, he realized. Julia is gone. The wonderful part of my life is over.

  “Simon! Simon! Simon!” Angelica chanted.

  “I tried to hide from it, Angelica,” Simon sobbed. “I tried to pretend it no longer existed. But the curse that follows the Fear family has found us all today.”

  “Simon! Simon! Simon!” Angelica shrieked behind him. “Simon! Simon! Simon!”

  Simon Fear knew that her cries would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  PART THREE Shadyside Village 1900

  Chapter 22

  On a gloomy fall day a young man stepped off the westbound train onto the narrow concrete platform of the Shadyside train station. He was a good-looking boy of eighteen, with slicked-down brown hair, lively brown eyes, and a friendly, open face.

  He quickly glanced down the main street of the small town. Shadyside appeared to be prosperous and pleasant with low brick buildings behind shady trees. Then he hailed a carriage with a cheerful cry. “Cabbie! Cabbie!”

  The driver, a shriveled old man with white whiskers and long white sideburns beneath a worn blue cap, stopped the horses and hopped down to help the young man with his suitcase.

  “I can handle it, driver,” the young man said, offering his friendly smile. “I have but one bag, as you can see.”

  “And where do you come from?” the cabbie asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

  “Boston” was the reply. “My name is Daniel. Daniel Fear. And I have come to visit my grandparents.”

  The old driver’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “Daniel Fear, did you say? And you have come to visit Simon Fear and his wife?”

  “They are my grandparents. I have never met them,” Daniel admitted. He hoisted his bag onto the luggage compartment at the back of the carriage. One of the two horses whinnied. The carriage rocked back and forth.

  “My name is McGuire,” the cabbie said, touching his cap. “I have been driving this rig in Shadyside Village for a lot longer than you have been alive, son. And you are the first visitor I have ever taken to the Fear mansion.”

  “Strange,” Daniel replied uncertainly.

  “Strange indeed,” McGuire said, shaking his head. “That house has been dark and closed up ever since the two daughters died. That was some thirty-five years ago, I believe.”

  “Simon’s daughters?” Daniel asked, surprised. “You mean that I had aunts?”

  The cabbie nodded. “Who might your father be, son?”

  “Joseph Fear,” Daniel told him.

  “Ah, yes, Joseph,” McGuire said, removing his cap to scratch his head. “I remember him well. Good-looking boy. I remember they sent him away to school. A couple of years after the … uh … after the tragedy with the two girls. Joseph never returned home.”

  “Yes. We live in Boston now,” Daniel said. “None of us has ever been back to Shadyside. My father is a very quiet man, a private man. He never told us much about our family. I did not even know I had grandparents here until word came about my grandfather’s seventy-fifth birthday.”

  “So Simon Fear is to be seventy-five,” McGuire muttered, rubbing his chin.

  “Yes,” Daniel replied. “My grandfather wrote a letter and asked to see me. So … here I am.”

  The old cabbie muttered some
thing that Daniel couldn’t hear. Then he turned and, with a loud groan, hoisted himself up to the driver’s seat. Daniel watched McGuire take the reins, then climbed inside the small carriage, pulling the door closed beside him.

  Staring out the dusty window, Daniel watched the small town roll by. The town center with its offices and shops gave way to rows of small cottages, then farm fields, then tangled woods. The overcast sky made everything appear dark and unwelcoming.

  Suddenly Daniel heard McGuire shout for the horses to whoa, and the carriage bounced to an abrupt stop. Daniel peered out at a tall brass gate. The gate was tarnished.

  “Here we are, son,” McGuire called down. “The Fear mansion.”

  Daniel opened the carriage door and leaned out. “Can you not take me up the driveway?”

  His question was greeted by a long silence. Finally the old man called down gruffly, “This is as far as I go. Few people would wish to come as near as this to Simon Fear’s mansion.”

  Daniel climbed down and removed his bag. He handed up two coins to the driver, who stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the mansion. Then with a curt “Good luck, son,” McGuire whipped the horses, and the carriage sped away.

  Daniel pushed open the heavy gate and stepped onto the long dirt driveway that led up to the house. “Oh!” The sight of the enormous mansion looming against the charcoal gray sky made Daniel stop and cry out.

  Tall weeds choked the lawn. Shrubs and hedges had grown wild. A fallen tree limb lay across a barren, neglected flowerbed.

  The house, a ramshackle, dark fortress, stretched behind a thick veil of bent trees. All of the windows were shuttered. No welcoming light greeted Daniel as he trudged up the driveway. No light escaped from the house at all.

  So this is where Father grew up! he thought in amazement. What a dreary, frightening old place. No wonder Father never talks about his childhood.

  Dead, brown leaves rustled at Daniel’s feet as he stepped up to the double front door and lifted the heavy brass knocker. He could hear the bang of the knocker echoing inside the house.

  He waited, listening. He knocked again.

  Finally the heavy door creaked open.

  A stooped, white-haired old woman poked her head out and stared up at him suspiciously. She wore a stained white apron over a black dress. One of her eyes had glazed over. It was solid gray. The other eye squinted hard at him.

  Frowning, she muttered something that Daniel couldn’t hear.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, leaning closer.

  “Stay away!” the old woman rasped. “Stay away from here!”

  Chapter 23

  Startled, Daniel stared back at the old woman. “I am Daniel Fear,” he said finally. “I believe my grandfather is expecting me.”

  The old woman sighed but didn’t reply. She squinted up at him for a long time with her one good eye. Then she beckoned him inside, gesturing with a bony, gnarled finger.

  “I am Mrs. MacKenzie, the housekeeper,” she told him, leaning on a white cane as she led him through a long, dark hallway. “I am housekeeper, maid, valet, and butler,” she added with some bitterness. “The only servant who stayed.”

  Daniel followed her in silence, carrying his bag. As they made their way through narrow, dark hallways, he tried to peer into the rooms they passed. They all seemed to be dark and shuttered, the furniture covered with sheets.

  “My father did not tell me the house was so large,” Daniel said, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

  “Your father got away …” Mrs. MacKenzie answered mysteriously.

  They continued through the dark, gloomy house in silence. The only sounds Daniel heard were the scraping of his boots on the threadbare carpet and the tap-tap-tap of the old housekeeper’s white cane as she walked.

  At the end of a twisting hallway Daniel saw a flicker of orange light from a corner room. “Your grandparents are in there,” Mrs. MacKenzie said softly, pointing. She turned, leaving him in the hall, and disappeared around a corner, her cane tapping its insistent rhythm.

  Is the old woman completely mad? Daniel wondered. Or just unfriendly?

  He took a deep breath and reluctantly approached the doorway. He saw a low fire crackling in a wide stone fireplace. Setting down his suitcase, Daniel stepped into the room.

  His grandmother caught his eye first. Angelica was stretched out on a purple velvet chaise longue beside the fire. She wore an elegant black dress with a white lace collar.

  She smiled at Daniel as he approached, but made no attempt to stand up. As she smiled, Daniel saw that her skin was delicate and translucent and tight against the bone, making her face resemble that of a grinning skull. Her hair fell loosely down her back. It was as white as snow.

  “Grandmother Angelica,” Daniel said with a slight bow. He reached for her hand, but she didn’t offer it.

  “Put another log on the fire, boy,” Angelica ordered.

  “I beg your pardon?” Daniel had expected a warmer greeting from his grandmother.

  “Do not dawdle. Do as I say,” Angelica insisted coldly, waving a slender white hand toward the fire. “Another log on the fire, boy.”

  Daniel hesitated, then hurried to the fireplace to do her bidding. He could find no logs in the wood basket, so he piled on several sticks of kindling.

  Then, wiping his hands, he turned back to his grandmother. “I am so pleased to meet you,” he said, smiling sincerely.

  “You may go now,” Angelica replied curtly. Before the startled Daniel could reply, she started to scream: “Did you not hear me? Go! Go! Go!”

  Daniel gaped at her, trying to decide what to say or do.

  “Pay no attention to her,” a high-pitched voice wheezed from behind him.

  Daniel wheeled around and-saw a nearly bald old man hunched over in a wooden wheelchair. He had a thin brown blanket tucked over his legs. His face was yellow and sickly in the flickering firelight. He stared at Daniel through square-shaped spectacles with his dark eyes, eyes like tiny black buttons.

  “Grandfather!” Daniel declared.

  Simon Fear wheeled himself closer, both hands pushing at the large wooden wheelchair wheels. “Pay no attention to Angelica. She is mad! Mad as a loon!” He cackled as if he had made a joke.

  Daniel glanced back at Angelica, who lay staring at the fire.

  “Grandfather Simon, I am pleased to meet you,” Daniel said, turning back to the frail old man.

  Simon extended a slender, spotted hand to his grandson. Daniel reached down to shake hands. He almost cried out. Simon’s hand was unearthly cold!

  “Joseph’s boy,” Simon muttered, refusing to let go of Daniel’s hand. Behind the eyeglasses the tiny black sparrow eyes had locked on Daniel’s face as if trying to memorize every detail. “Yes, yes. I see Joseph in you,” he said and then coughed for several seconds, allowing Daniel the opportunity to remove his hand from the icy grip.

  “My father sends his love,” Daniel said stiffly.

  “Love? What is love?” Angelica chimed in from behind him. “What is love? I would really like to know.”

  “Joseph has no love for us,” Simon said darkly, wiping saliva from his colorless lips with the back of his hand.

  “I beg your pardon?” Daniel exclaimed.

  “My son Joseph abandoned us. I tried to make him understand that we Fears have no choice but to stick together, to band together, to hide together against our enemies. But Joseph chose to disobey me.”

  The light seemed to fade from Simon’s eyes. He lowered his head. For a moment Daniel thought that his grandfather had fallen asleep.

  “Put another log on the fire!” Angelica ordered impatiently. “Another log, if you please! Why must it always be so cold in here?”

  “There do not seem to be any more logs,” Daniel told his grandmother.

  An icy hand grabbed his wrist. Simon held him with surprising strength. “I told you to ignore her!” he snapped.

  Daniel tried to pull free. The cold from Si
mon’s hand seemed to sweep right through Daniel’s entire body. “Grandfather—”

  “You cannot hide from your blood!” Simon declared loudly, staring up at Daniel, tightening his cold grip on his grandson’s wrist. “I told Joseph that when he was just a boy. You cannot hide from your blood and your fate.”

  “Yes, Grandfather,” Daniel stammered, trying to be polite.

  “His brothers Robert and Brandon stayed,” Simon said. “But now they’re gone too.”

  “I never met my uncles,” Daniel replied softly.

  “Now you are here, Daniel,” Simon said, smiling up at him, a frightening smile that sent shivers up Daniel’s spine. “Now you are here to carry on my work.”

  Daniel swallowed hard. “Your work? I—I came to celebrate your birthday, Grandfather. I—”

  Simon ignored him. He had both hands up behind his collar, struggling to remove something from around his neck. Finally he succeeded. With another frightening smile he tucked an object into Daniel’s hand.

  Daniel took a step back toward the fireplace and examined his grandfather’s gift. To his surprise it was a piece of silver jewelry. Disk shaped, it was held by three silver claws, like birds’ feet. On the disk were four blue jewels that sparkled brightly in the firelight.

  What a strange gift, Daniel thought. He turned the pendant over. On the back he found Latin words inscribed: DOMINATIO PER MALUM.

  “What do these words mean, Grandfather?” Daniel asked, studying the strange silver pendant.

  “Power through evil!” Simon bellowed. His loud cry caused him to cough and wheeze.

  Daniel studied the strange pendant, turning it over in his hands.

  “Put it on,” Simon instructed him. “Wear it always. It has been in the Fear family since our days in the Old Country.”

  Daniel obediently slipped the silver chain around his neck.

  He tucked the pendant under his dress shirt.

  And as the warm disk settled against his chest, he felt a surge of heat—and the entire room burst into flame!

  Chapter 24