Waking the Ancients

by Catherine Cavendish

  “What else do you know?”

  “Only that Count Markus didn’t sell the house to Miss Charters. He sold it to Fräulein Gerda Zimic.”

  “Another name that keeps cropping up,” Paula said. “Surely he must have noticed the signature? The discrepancy with the name?”

  “It is believed he was so anxious to get out of the house that he didn’t. He gave the document to his secretary, who promptly filed it without checking. It wasn’t discovered until the family wanted to buy back the house and that was after the count’s death—”

  Anna’s scream tore through the house.

  Paula and Stefan found her, cowering at the entrance to the kitchen. She pointed a shaking finger at the door leading to the basement.

  Paula followed her terrified eyes. The carpenter stood rigid, transfixed. In his hand, he held a screwdriver, directed at his throat. All the tendons in his neck were stretched taut, as he struggled to fight off something that wanted him to harm himself. He yelled out in terror. Paula grabbed the hand that held the improvised weapon. With all her strength, she pulled, but it seemed nothing would stop the screwdriver from inching closer to the terrified man’s jugular.

  “Let go of him!” Paula redoubled her efforts. The man yelled out again and the screwdriver fell to the floor, narrowly missing Paula’s foot. The carpenter fell backward, recovered himself, and rushed out of the kitchen, leaving his toolbox and its contents scattered across the floor.

  “We’re leaving,” Paula said. “Now. Stefan, you have to get us out of this lease. I don’t care how you do it, but we can’t stay here another day.”

  Stefan nodded slowly. He seemed to be on autopilot. He spoke as if primed to do so. “I will drive you to a hotel. There is a good one near here.”

  “Right. Dee, pack up what you need for a couple of days, and I’ll do the same. Anna, get yourself off home now. I’m so sorry you had to witness all that.”

  Anna’s voice trembled. “And I am so sorry I can no longer work for you. Not here anyway. If you move somewhere else…”

  “You would be the first one I’d call. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Anna managed a weak smile and left before Paula could change her mind. Stefan waited for them in the hallway. Paula shut the kitchen door firmly, wondering why she bothered. Whatever lay in wait here could easily break down locked and bolted doors, so one that was simply shut wouldn’t stop it. She marched into the library and packed up her laptop before darting up the stairs to her bedroom. She ignored the unexpected chill and set to work throwing clothes and toiletries into a suitcase. Her nerve ends prickled. She felt unseen eyes watching her every move but, this time, instead of scaring her, it only spurred her to work faster.

  She met Dee in the hall. She seemed to be taking it all in stride. Her calmness was almost unnerving.

  “I’m a nervous wreck and you look like you would actually contemplate staying here.”

  Dee gave her a quick smile, which didn’t last long enough to reach her eyes.

  They followed Stefan to his car. He unlocked it and the sisters climbed in the back. Dee spoke. “At least we’re unharmed and now we’re leaving. End of story.”

  Paula looked at her hard. Her sister seemed different somehow. As if she had removed herself from the situation. This was a different Dee, and the subtle difference bothered Paula. Although for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

  * * * *

  Paula and Dee checked into adjoining rooms in the smart, modern hotel. Paula unpacked and took a shower, keen to wash off every trace of Villa Dürnstein. Whatever resided there sullied everything it came into contact with and made her feel dirty and unhealthy.

  Clean and dressed once more, she looked at her watch. It would be just after six in the morning in New York. Phil could well be up, or might just be catching the last precious few minutes of sleep. Either way, she would have to call him before someone else told him she had asked Stefan to look into terminating the lease. She considered Skyping, but abandoned the thought in favor of a straight phone call.

  His tired voice answered on the fourth ring.

  “Phil?”

  “Paula? What the hell? I’m not even up yet. What’s happened?”

  “I know, and I’m sorry to wake you, but you will never believe the things that have been going on in the house.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I won’t go into all the details now, but I have had to ask Stefan to terminate the lease.”

  “You’ve done what?” Now he’d woken up.

  “He was with us when it happened.”

  “When what happened?”

  Paula tried to keep calm but couldn’t stop her words tumbling out and, of course, it made no sense whatsoever to Phil. He could barely control the anger and shock in his voice. Maybe he wasn’t even trying to.

  “Phil, the place is haunted. And I mean badly. Really badly. All the crockery got smashed, the door to the basement was broken down, and a carpenter nearly killed himself with his own screwdriver.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Paula? Have you been drinking? I’m going to call Stefan right now and tell him not to cancel the lease. Don’t even think about it. Do you understand? Is Dee still there?”

  “Yes. Quite honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without her right now. At least she’s here. She’s seen it all for herself.”

  “She’s still there? I thought she was going back after a couple of days. What else haven’t you been telling me? You said everything was fine when I spoke to you yesterday.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. I know how much you’ve got on your plate at the moment. I’ve hung on as long as I can, but things have escalated to the breaking point. Dee’s staying on longer because she knows I need her. You’re not here and—”

  “I wondered when we would get onto that. I’m not having this conversation now. I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Phil. Don’t call Stefan. We can’t stay there. Dee and I are booked into a hotel now.”

  “What? Do you want me to be a laughingstock? The fucking Englishman with the crazy wife? You need help, Paula. Psychiatric help.”

  The urge to bite back was almost overwhelming. Why had he overreacted like that? Paula bit her lip. He was tired. The job in New York wasn’t going well. He sounded exhausted. No, she mustn’t lose her temper now. Quietly, she said, “Don’t call me that. Anyone would be crazy to stay in that house after what’s happened.”

  “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going. I’ll talk to you again when you get your sanity back.” He cut the call and left Paula clutching a dead phone, tears welling up.

  Her tears had dried by the time she knocked on Dee’s door, but she couldn’t fool her own sister.

  Dee took one look at Paula’s reddened eyes and grabbed her hand. “Come on. We’re going down to the bar and I’m buying you a drink.” The old, caring Dee had returned.

  Five minutes later, they sat in the comfortable lounge, surrounded by portraits of the Empress Elisabeth. Paula sipped from a large glass of Austrian Blaufränkisch while Dee nursed a brandy and soda.

  “I gather you’ve spoken to Phil and it didn’t exactly go well?” Dee said.

  Paula raised her eyes heavenward. “To put it mildly. He went ballistic. He said he’s telling Stefan not to release us from the lease.”

  “Shouldn’t think he’s too happy that I’m sticking around, either.”

  “Well…”

  “You don’t have to say any more. I get it.”

  “In his eyes, there’s nothing wrong. Just two hysterical females winding each other up and making trouble for him. Plus, he’s stressed at work.”

  “Oh dear, what a shame.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Dee. He has a lot to contend with. His job makes him unpopular. Everyone eyes him with suspicion because
they’re sure he’s looking for ways to either get them to work harder or else quit. He’s found all sorts of stuff wrong in New York and somehow he’s got to fix it. Then I come along and lay a whole load more trouble at his door at exactly the time he needs his home life to run smoothly.”

  “I can’t believe you said that. I never took you for a Stepford wife.”

  “No, I didn’t mean I have to play the good little housewife. God forbid he’d ever expect that. My German isn’t good enough to get a job yet, so naturally, for the time being at least, the running of our home rests on my shoulders. It’s my contribution. When I start work, things will change. He really doesn’t need the prospect of another move so soon after we’ve arrived here, and he doesn’t need to get a reputation for being difficult. They have rules about relocation and we’re proposing to break practically every one of them.”

  “Except that in this instance, the house is uninhabitable.”

  “You and I know that. Stefan probably knows that now. But Phil doesn’t.”

  “He could.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Supposing we go back to the house and Skype him. You could show him the damage. Then he’d have to believe you.”

  Paula took another sip of wine. Dee’s suggestion made sense, but the thought of going back into that house so soon after this morning’s events terrified her.

  “Let me sleep on it, Dee. I really can’t face it today.”

  “Fair enough. A bit of battery recharging would be a good idea, but promise me you’ll consider it.

  “I will. I promise.”

  After she had said goodnight to Dee, Paula booted up her laptop and checked her emails. Most of them were catalog offers and various other junk messages. One message stood out. Paula clicked on it.

  It had been sent by a Professor Stephen Radford from Oxford University.

  Dear Mrs. Bancroft. Thank you for your inquiry, which has been forwarded onto me. Dr. Emeryk Quintillus was employed here as you rightly believe. I can confirm, from information I have, that he was an eminent, if somewhat fanatical, archaeologist. He went missing in 1910 and the university was informed by Dr. Quintillus’s legal representatives that he had died. His last known location was Vienna, but he may have died in Egypt while engaged in one of his many digs. Of Professor Mayer, I know little as he was never employed by this university, although his reputation is highly regarded by all historians and archaeologists, myself included. I am sorry not to have been able to add anything tangible to your existing knowledge, but it does appear that however deeply I dig, I fail to find much evidence of Dr. Quintillus’s achievements. His character appears to have given considerable cause for alarm and disquiet among his academic colleagues, although he was highly regarded by many students. He seems to have angered many of his fellows and threatened at least one. I think if he were to apply for a position at this university in this day and age, the likelihood is he would be refused.

  The professor signed himself off. Paula stared at the screen for a few seconds and closed it down.

  * * * *

  Paula and Dee arrived at the Villa Dürnstein at midday the next day. Paula checked her watch. It would be just after six a.m. in New York. She felt guilty Skyping Phil at this hour, especially after yesterday, but she couldn’t see any viable alternative. He would be at work all day until God knows what time in the evening and she certainly didn’t plan on hanging around this house after dark, waiting on the six-hour time difference.

  “Are you ready?” Dee asked.

  “Not really, but here goes anyway.”

  In the wrecked kitchen, they found everything exactly as it had been when they left yesterday. Paula took a deep breath and called her husband.

  Seconds later, a bleary-eyed Phil, his hair disheveled, flashed up on the screen. “What is it now?”

  “I have to show you this.” She moved the phone around so her husband could see the damage. Dee stood silently in the doorway leading to the hall. From the phone, Phil’s exclamation of horror filled the room.

  “What the fuck’s been going on there? An earthquake?”

  “All sorts of crazy shit and no earthquake. You know how heavy that door is, how secure the locks were? This is what I tried to tell you about yesterday.”

  Dee grabbed the phone. “Phil, don’t you care what’s happening here? Your wife is being driven half crazy by something we don’t understand.”

  “Stay out of this, Dee. It’s none of your business.”

  “My sister is my business. How dare you!”

  Paula snatched the phone back. “Dee, it’s okay. Phil, now you can see for yourself. We can’t stay here.”

  Phil rubbed his eyes. Paula felt a wave of guilt and sympathy. He looked ten years older than his usual self. Things must be really hard for him over there.

  “Paula,” he said, his voice so low, almost menacing, it chilled his wife to the core. “We are not moving out. Stay in a hotel, if you must, until I get back—and get rid of that sister of yours.”

  Dee slammed her hand down hard on the table. “How dare you?”

  Paula covered her sister’s hand with her own. “Dee, please…” She shook her head, then turned back to Phil, whose jaw was set firmly in a way that Paula had always hated. “Phil, be reasonable. This is only the latest in a string of things that have been happening since you left. I didn’t tell you because I know it’s difficult for you over there and being so far away. But whatever is doing this is stepping things up, and I’m scared what it’ll do next.”

  Phil sighed. “I called Stefan yesterday and he said you had become hysterical when he came over. He said nothing about ghosts or demons or whatever the hell it is you think is doing this stuff. He said as far as he could tell, the house had been broken into and he was getting it fixed.”

  Dee turned away.

  Paula tried to remain calm. “I can’t believe he said that. He saw what happened to the carpenter. The poor man was terrified.”

  “I don’t know anything about a carpenter, but I do know we’re not moving.”

  “But why not?”

  “We would have to pay three years rent for a start.”

  “Surely not. There’s always a get-out clause.”

  “Not this time. Why do you think it was so cheap?”

  “I can’t believe you signed up for something like that without even telling me what we were getting into.”

  Phil sighed. “I wanted you to have a lovely home. You supported me when I started out and this was my way of saying thank you. Look, I can’t deal with this now. I’m due in a meeting across town in an hour. It’ll take me that long just to get there. Stay in your hotel if you must. Go and see a doctor. Get yourself some pills to help you cope. Stefan will get the place fixed up again and when I get back, everything will be fine, okay?”

  “No, Phil. It’s not okay. I—”

  “Enough!” He ended the call.

  “I don’t know how you live with that man,” Dee said. “I’d have kicked him out years ago. Why on earth do you stay with him?”

  “He’s normally great and we get along fine. But when the two of you are in the same room—even electronically—it’s like matter and anti-matter colliding.”

  “The way he spoke to you then. So patronizing. If a man treated me like that, he’d be history.”

  “He didn’t mean it like that. He’s just tired and he doesn’t understand what’s been happening.”

  “Make all the excuses for him you want, but there’s no escaping the fact that he’s not listening to you and, as a result, he’s putting your life in danger.”

  “We don’t know that. None of us has been injured.”

  “Yet. Supposing it had been a screwdriver in your hand, pointing at your throat. The carpenter wrenched himself free but supposing you weren’t able to and I wasn’t there
to help you.”

  Paula didn’t want to imagine it. She wanted only to get her things and leave. “I’ll pop upstairs and get a few more clothes. Do you need anything?”

  “I’ve got everything. At the hotel. You didn’t think I intended to come back here after yesterday, did you? It’s only because this was the only way, and even this didn’t work. That man is so pigheaded.”

  Paula didn’t want another argument at that moment. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

  Upstairs, she grabbed a suitcase out of the closet and began piling in more clothes. She struggled to close the bulging case and finally succeeded as a scream from downstairs tore through the house.

  “Dee.” She hurried out of the room and down the stairs. She found Dee sprawled out in a dead faint between the kitchen and hallway.

  “Dee, wake up.” Paula took her hand between both of hers and began rubbing it. Her sister stirred, groaned and her eyes fluttered open. At first she seemed disoriented, unable to articulate.

  “Where…?”

  “It’s all right, Dee. You fainted. What happened?”

  “Happened?” She looked confused. Her words seemed to come hard. “I don’t know. I…” Her eyes closed briefly and she frowned, as if struggling to remember.

  “Did you see something?” Paula said.

  Dee’s eyes opened again. “See something?”

  “Did something…appear?”

  Dee struggled to sit up. “I don’t know…what…you’re talking about.”

  Paula’s heartbeat quickened. She could almost have been talking to a stranger. Dee barely appeared to recognize her and her words came hard—as if she was struggling with what to say.

  “It doesn’t matter. Try to stand. I’ll get you a glass of water.” Paula helped her up and, leaning heavily on her sister, Dee made it to a chair in the hallway. She sank down untidily.

  Paula poured a tumbler of water and handed it to her. “I think this is the only glass that escaped destruction,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Dee sipped her drink. She stared at the floor and said nothing. Color gradually returned to her blanched face, but still she did not speak. Paula took the empty glass from her, fear mounting.