Where does one even start on a task like this? I stepped through the mahogany lion doors and stared at my big fluffy white comforter, with the crimson sheets (of death). I didn’t want to take a bath. Find my children. But I’d do anything to help them, even if… a bath…. helped.
My fingers were lead weights as I slowly disrobed. Lion sneakers off my feet, and I wondered if the children still had their sneakers. Would they provide any protection?
I frowned as the tub filled. Could I even put my foot in? It was all bandaged up. And my arm had pretty much been through a meat grinder. The strong sensation of saltwater taffy invaded my mouth and I guessed I knew the answer. Get in. I unwrapped my foot. The mirror blade had made a clean cut, and it didn’t appear infected. It would be extremely easy to open again if I wasn’t careful.
My right arm was worse. Dog bit and sticked. Last I saw it, very infected.
I unwrapped it and the pulsing feeling in my hand intensified. It leaked as soon as I could see it. The putrid scent rose with each layer removed. Pus and blood still seeped through the stitches. I supposed it was rotting.
The lion tub was ready, his head high, and his big lion feet holding up the weight. The tail trickled water and I turned it off. Warm with bubbles, just the way I liked it. I stepped in and the heat on my foot made me wince. Tears trickled down my chin and I sat down. I lowered my buggered-up arm in the water and fiery pain shot up, but then it relaxed, and I relaxed. My eyes grew heavy and I slept.
Annabelle and Tony sat on the wood floor. Hungry, they gnawed on crayons and sat with half eaten coloring books. Colored and eaten. Their sunken faces had chapped, thirsty lips. My heart broke into a million pieces. Tony wrapped his arms around his little sister. “Mama is gonna find us soon.”
“I hope so. I’m tired of being stuck in here. This is a bad place,” Annabelle whispered back to him. They shivered. What room? I frantically tried to see the surrounding walls and furniture. Did they get into the Bear room? What room were they in? But the dream kept slipping.
Where are you? I willed it as hard as I could, trying to speak to them. I had no voice. Annabelle! Tony! Where are you!
I tried to shout with my mind, but they vanished. I stared at my husband. He assembled something, humming with his back to me. He stood on concrete, so I guessed he wasn’t with the children. “I’m right here, waiting for you, honey.” That was what he said. And he suddenly stared into me. His eyes both bloodshot, his clothes blood soaked. The stench of wolves was thick. He terrified me. A cold chill ran up my spine, but it wasn’t over yet.
A key dangled right in front of me. The key hung on a large gold chain, with a red heart charm. I reached out and grasped it, mesmerized by its beauty. Water filled my lungs and I coughed and spit and hacked. I had slipped down into the tub and I started to drown. I sat up gagging, hurling out water, the necklace with the key and heart still clasped in my hands. I crawled out of the tub. My foot no longer ached. When I examined it, the skin was tighter and fresher. It didn’t seem like it would split open very easily now. My arm no longer smelled and had no pus. Good enough. I wrapped both of them in the thick wrappings the doc had used. Strong wrappings. The kind that could protect you from a blow.
I tiptoed naked to the bed and searched for my clothes, but they had all vanished. Crap. I slipped on a clean pair of socks and those lion sneakers. My naked butt on the bed, I finished lacing them up. I guessed I was gonna do this naked. I pulled the chain over my head. Behind me something slid off the bed and onto the floor. It was a white dress. I pulled it on and the heart necklace sat at the collar. The white dress with the red heart.
Okay house, you win. I will wear what you ask of me. Tell me what the key unlocks?
Only one room was locked. The Bear. I wasn’t ready to face it, but I went anyway. I almost stopped by the kitchen to get supplies, water, and food for the children. But I didn’t even know where they were, and I would need every ounce of my strength. As I climbed the stairs, a cold whoosh ran up me. The dress twirled around me and the gargoyles crawled closer, staring at me with their mirror eyes. The empty-eyed gargoyles stayed frozen. Could they see me?
At the landing I froze, my feet unwilling to move. “You can’t stop me. I’m going to find my children.” Chessa and Alawn. No, Annabelle and Tony. I cringed at the mistake. Not her, I’m not her! I didn’t know what had happened to the woman who wore this dress before me, but I didn’t care. My babies needed me. Not hers. The gargoyles with the big mirror eyes came closer, slinking together in a wary group.
“I’ll take your eyes if you keep going.” They froze and my feet were freed and I could defeat that particular house creature. They would hurt me if they had the chance, but if I blinded them they’d never be able to catch me.
I slipped into the hall. In front of me stood the Squirrel room. (Mirror blade, grandmother’s casserole dish, picture of the room, but the back said, “I tried to warn you.”) No reason to search there again. I stepped into the grand family room. The gargoyles here didn’t move, they froze with fright as if they already knew I intended to blind them at the first flicker of movement. Four of them held up the pool table, two of them held lightbulbs over their heads with everlasting ideas. One dangled from a light fixture in the ceiling. They all had mirrored eyes. Seven in all. Am I Snow White? I tried to cackle at myself, but I my mouth turned into a pained grimace. My babies were starving.
I turned to survey the room one more time. I could see the Stag and the Bear, but in the far corner, in the dark, I saw the Blackbird. The Stag room where the nursemaid had hung herself. Two bassinets, and the twins, Peace and Harmony slept innocently before they were murdered. I paused at this thought. Their names were Chessa and Alawn. The Stag was Peace and Harmony.
I’m not sure the Stag had anything left to offer me. My throat dried up when I tried to call out for my children. The house held me back. Did it hold me back for my protection or its? Careful, you lose track of time here.
I bolted awake from my daze of staring about the room and the gargoyle hanging from the ceiling had swung close to my face. His eyes burned into mine and his lips pressed close. A strong urge to kiss him bubbled up before I broke free and dashed to the Blackbird. I stood there, staring back through the family room to the Bear room. Had I chosen the wrong door?
I shook it off and tried the handle. It opened.
26
I was expecting a bedroom, but instead I found playroom. Perhaps it was for the two older children. I didn’t yet know their names. The room was dark. Even with the lights on and the curtains pulled back there was an odd darkness here. There was a large blackbird’s wings spread, covered in feathers. A little ladder stood to the side of it. A saddle sat on the bird’s back.
On the other side of the room was a bookcase filled to the brim with toys and books. Annabelle would have loved those dolls. Tony would have already been riding that giant black bird. Instead, they were starving and thirsty and lost. Or locked. Locked up like those kids in that rhyme before the old witch tries to cook them.
The walls of this room were a bright cheery blue, but my heavy heart stared at all these children’s things. Where was my clue? I stared at the toys, the little desk I ran my fingers across, and then I saw a tiny roll in the beak of the giant bird. I slid it out of the bird’s beak.
The back had a scribbled rushed drawing in of a bird in black and a rhyme entitled: The Raven
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told
Eight for heaven,
Nine for hell
Ten for the devil's own cell!
The red pen had scrawled, “They’ll die. You’ll die. We all die.”
On the other side, the picture side, I could see them sitting there. Annabelle and Tony. She had tears running down her cheeks and he wa
s trying to comfort her with a crayon in his mouth. They sat on a wooden floor. The red pen screamed, “Tick Tock!”
I dropped the picture and leapt out of the room slamming the door. Tick tock, tick tock. I could hear the sound clicking and chasing me. All seven gargoyles stood around me in a half circle right outside the door. They had been waiting. They were fast and slow all at once as I kicked the first two into each other. The one tipped forwards into the other, mirror shattered into rock in a great triumphant roar. Tick tock, tick tock. The two gargoyles with lightbulbs flickered back to their end tables, they trembled with the bulbs over their heads, but I wasn’t done yet.
I bent down towards the four still surrounding me. Three had their teeth bared and ready, and one was lying sideways, gathering pieces of the eyes of the shattered one. I picked up the busted one and swung by its feet, crashing into the eyes of the other three. The fourth one on the floor let out a terrible noise, terrified.
“Yous kills us!” it said to me still picking up eye fragments. His big mirror eyes looked like they were wet.
“My children.” I stared down at it, and it squirmed. “Tick tock.”
“Yous kills us!” The voice was hoarse and sad. “Yous worse than she’s. Yous kills us and dunnut know why.”
“My. Children!” I screamed at it.
It shuddered and started slinking away.
“Tick tock tick tock tick tock. Tell me now!” My voice trembled. I was spinning out of control. Suddenly, it jumped on my face and kissed me. His cold firm lips opened my mouth, and the ticking stopped. A confused glorious rush of delight ran up and down my body. It was the best kiss of my entire life. I opened my eyes, and I saw them reflected back by those wet eyes, our noses pressed close our lips still connected. I closed my eyes again begging for more, and a bursted image. My brain popped.
The white dress. The red heart. Her dark hair.
27
The woman in the white dress stood on the stairway. She had both the twins, one in each arm. She stood on the landing and stared up at the gargoyles. They were writhing on the ceiling. They were calling to her, begging her. She pulled the chandelier close to the top of the stairs with a long stick and carefully set each baby in the light. Then she let it go, and it swung back and forth.
“Save them or let them fall, I suppose. What will you do?” She spoke to the gargoyles. The babies were little, three or four months. They might have been big enough to roll over. They certainly couldn’t hold on.
The chef peered his head about the corner. “Atgas? M’lady lunch is…” His voice froze when he saw them. Two little infants sitting in a light. One move, they fall. They fall to the floor and they smash and they die. They weren’t crying yet. The chandelier still swung softly. But at some point they would fall. Or they would starve if nobody got them. Either way, they would die without help. He swallowed, and then tried to form a sentence, then swallowed again. His palms were sweating, and he wiped them on his pants.
She stood there, staring at the light. “Go away.”
He shrank back with his eyes wide open. Then he took a quick step forward, “A ladder?”
“No, I can see fine from here.” She stood, her fingertips sitting on the railing, her body leaning forward as she watched her infants. They slept.
So she waited. Eventually, two children passed through the room. They both froze on the lion crest and looked up at their mother. She glimmered with a sneaky wolfish smile. Babies falling on babies. Would they splat like a tomato on a wall? Or an egg on the floor, one cracking the other into pieces? Please, stay awhile, sit on that crest. Let’s watch the babies fall on babies.
They stood, watching their mother for a full ten minutes before they walked on past. Neither of them spoke to her. They knew something was happening, but they also hadn’t seen the silent sleeping twins in the light.
Chef finally came back into the room. It had been a few hours and still Atgas stood awaiting the fall of her children. “M’lady, lunch is ready and I think that they had enough.” He carried a ladder. Eyes lowered, he set it up on the crest of the lions while he spoke softly. He didn’t dare look at her, his skin was crawling with fear. Swallowing again, he tried to ignore his sweaty, trembling palms. His feet teetered on the first step. He was terrible with heights.
“I’ve made your favorite, a cheese soufflè, and I do think you should eat it while it’s hot.” He climbed to the second step and felt his body shudder. He was going to fall with his hands full of babies. With a deep breath, he took another step. She descended the stairs slowly. Her eyes were burning into his back. Three more steps. Go to lunch, please. Two left. He really didn’t want to stand on that very top step. His arms fumbled towards the small infants, but he wasn’t even close. She kept moving down the stairs. He teetered on his feet at the top of the ladder, his fingertips barely touched the chandelier. Shit.
One sleeping baby foot was dangling down. He wasn’t sure if he should pull it. Maybe the chandelier would tip and they would fall. He reached for it anyway, certain death awaited these babies either way.
She paused and stared at his tottering attempts to grab her infants foot. The gargoyle in the ceiling seemed to lower the chandelier, pushing his arms farther down, trying to help the poor chef reach. He pressed up on his toes hard and his fingertips grazed the little foot. Atgas pushed the ladder with her stick. The ladder teetered and he let go of the baby, terrified he would rip off a leg when he fell, and with a crash he hit the ground.
His head was ringing and his nose was gushing blood. “Atgas, please, they are just babies.” He pleaded with big, kind eyes, and then she suddenly lunged at him. His head thumped with his heartbeat and his feet struggled to move his body. Run. He scampered to the caterer’s kitchen, intending to hide away in there until she came to her senses. His aching nose gushed as he stood trembling with fear. The stick pierced him from behind. It punctured all the way through his back and out his chest. He stared at the sharp point and that was the last thing he remembered.
Atgas twisted the stick so chef would bleed. She heard her baby cry. She didn’t want to miss this and left the chef to die. Chessa. Chessa was crying. Alawn would too in a moment. She raced out there, her white dress splattered with tiny drips of blood. She went up the stairs, two at a time.
Two gargoyles were standing at the base of the ladder, straightening it out, and two others had climbed down the chain to the chandelier. The landing was the perfect spot to watch. The gargoyles froze. They never seemed to move much when she was watching. There they stood, frozen stone without the courage to straighten the ladder the rest of the way, or carry the babies. What would they do next?
Atgas pressed her lips together tightly and smiled. “You can’t save them!” Chessa let out a cry and the chandelier shook, and suddenly slid down. The gargoyles at the top of the chandelier all grimaced. They were holding back the legs of the one whose arms were outstretched, holding the sword where the chain hung down to the light. As she stared up at them, the ladder sneakily straightened and one creature on the light lifted Chessa. Atgas’s eyes blazed downward at the gargoyles, her fury growing. “Leave them. Leave those rotten children.”
Gargoyles exchanged worried glances and then relented. The four climbed back up the light to the ceiling, leaving the twins. The babies wailed louder and more intensely while she waited. She wondered if they would ever slip from their perch, when Chessa’s legs suddenly both dangled down. Her chest caught between the two iron bars that held the lightbulbs, but if she squirmed, she would be released. Atgas rose on her toes leaning forward enthusiastically watching those little feet kick kick kick.
28
Chessa screamed, her chest pinched by the two bars, and then she rested. Her tiny tears weren’t even dry on her cheeks when she closed her eyes and took a moment. Atgas couldn’t bear it. Waiting had never been her strong suit. If she climbed that ladder, she could snag one of those feet. With one little yank, Chessa would pop from the light the same way s
he popped from Atgas’s loins.
And it would, with any luck, be just as bloody.
Alawn let out a yawn and stretched out both his arms. The chandelier swayed, already tipped to one side from the shifted weight of his sister. Suddenly his head slipped, and he dangled upside down. His feet caught between the iron bars, upside down, dangling at the knees like an acrobat at a circus. He wailed and his arms flopped and flailed.
Atgas willed for them to drop. “Come, you little acrobat babies, jump into the thimble of water. Let’s hear a splash. Crash and the crowd will roar!”
But they just dangled.
“Rock a bye babies in the light’s top
When you fall down, your bodies will pop
When you both wake, you‘ll take a big fall
down come the bodies, splattering all.”
She sang, her words lilting over the screaming infants. She twirled on the handrail, her nimble toes barely keeping her from tumbling down to the lion crest. The gargoyles cringed in horror, as finally, her wishes came true. The chandelier swung suddenly as one baby dropped and the other one followed.
The gargoyles screamed, most of them smashing their eyes out of their own suicidal heads. Mirrored glass shattered and fell like confetti coating the room. Atgas let out a triumphant, hysterical, wolfish howl.
I gasped with sorrow as my eyes burned with tears. The mirrored eyes stared into mine. I started to weep for the babies, but the gargoyle only released my lips for a moment. “The children, think of the children, not the babies,” he said.
He kissed me again, and my brain burst full of color and I could see what he had seen.
They were hiding. Deep under the bed, which bed, I didn’t know. A gargoyle was sitting with them, but he never moved. “Griffin, she has turned into a monster,” the little girl who looked like Annabelle said softly in the dark.
Landlocked Lighthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1) Page 10