Gilbert House (The Temple of the Blind #2)

by Brian Harmon

  But she was interested. He could tell. She was studying him, searching him, like a predator eyeing the weakest member of the herd.

  “I don’t either,” Laura said. “But I can’t avoid them all.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The milk was in the back. Charlie had shoved two twelve-packs of soda and two six-packs of beer that he bought the day before in front of it. He would have to dig for it.

  “You haven’t been around much lately. When you’re home you’re always in your room.”

  Soda would be fine. Perfect. He grabbed a Sprite from the bottom shelf. Not his favorite morning beverage, but it would do. Hell, it was better than coffee. He hated coffee.

  “Been pretty busy?”

  “Yeah. Lot of work to do.” He stood up and turned to face her. As he opened his sprite, he felt the full weight of her eyes. “Guess I’ve been a little buried in it.”

  “How can you drink that this early?”

  Because I’m all out of vodka, Wayne thought. Aloud he said, “It’s all right. And there’s no juice.”

  Laura chuckled softly.

  Wayne took a long drink of the Sprite. It was wet and cold and was wonderful for that, but it also burned his parched throat, cascading across his mouth like hot sand, and the lemon-lime flavor was too strong, almost nauseating so soon after he awoke. Any other time it was his favorite flavor, but already he knew he wouldn’t finish this can.

  For a moment, there was an awkward silence. He stood there, looking uneasily into those eyes that were both sweet and predatory. She gave him a smile, and he felt that nervousness in him grow. Something in his belly rolled over and he felt as though he might risk losing the soda he’d already swallowed.

  “So you don’t have class for another hour yet, do you?”

  Wayne looked across the room at the clock on the wall. It was not quite nine yet. He’d awoken earlier than usual. “Yeah. Looks that way.”

  “What were you going to do until then?”

  Oh, you little bitch, Wayne thought. “I was going to head out early. I have some things to get done.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “Fuck that. Charlie’s gone until tonight. He’s got work right after class. I need someone to keep me company.”

  “Well I wouldn’t have long anyway.”

  “You’ve got an hour.”

  The thing in Wayne’s belly suddenly became a lump of ice. He felt trapped.

  Laura put the last piece of toast in her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. Her short, dark hair was still a little messy from sleep, but it did her looks no harm. She was still attractive, and Wayne’s betraying body began to grow aroused. She stepped closer to him, her sexy eyes slipped down, washing over his broad shoulders and strong body. He was fairly tall, a little over six feet, built thick and heavy. She was easily nine or ten inches his shorter, small, but by no means delicate.

  When her eyes came back up to his, he found them hard to meet, and when he lowered them, he found himself looking at her chest. He looked quickly from there and found the clock again, checking the time, but not before noticing how big her breasts were, and how smooth and sensuous they looked beneath the tee shirt, and how her plump nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

  She was not wearing a bra.

  Wayne realized suddenly that he would not turn her down a second time. He’d been insulted by Charlie’s cheating after he spent so long pitying him for Laura’s betrayal. The morals upon which he stood last time were no longer there. If he stayed here, he would sleep with her. It was time to make a decision.

  The thought of taking Laura Swiff to bed with him wasn’t an entirely bad one. After all, Laura was an interesting kind of woman. She could be fun. It would probably be an experience he’d never forget. And as for Charlie…well, he didn’t really like him that much anymore anyway. And besides, who was he to point fingers?

  He could not help but wonder what kind of secrets she might reveal to him. What did she look like under that shirt? What was she into? Did she have any fetishes? What kinds of noises did she make? He was extremely aroused by these wonderings, and at the same time appalled.

  “I hate being left alone,” Laura sighed. She took another step closer to him, those eyes still burning into him. She was no supermodel, but she was still damn sexy. It was in the way she moved. It was in the way she walked. It was in her confidence, of course. But most of all, it was in those eyes, those muddy green eyes that promised to betray for him.

  Wayne stared into those eyes, wanting so badly it actually hurt, and the only thought that came to him now was, Why the hell not?

  Chapter 9

  Albert opened the door and looked out into the hallway at his visitor. He did not know just who he expected to find knocking at his door at half past three on a Friday afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t the girl who stood before him. She was small, slender, with a pierced nose and eyebrow. She wore blue jean shorts, a yellow tank top and a pretty, beaded choker necklace. Her hair was nearly the same color as Brandy’s, although noticeably darker at the roots, and was pulled into two bobbing pigtails, revealing the many earrings she wore. She was clutching a large manila envelope in her small, ring- and bracelet-laden hands. To him, she appeared barely old enough to drive, although he supposed her piercings may have created that illusion. There was a definite contrast between her pretty, youthful face and her bold choice in accessories, which seemed to magnify both.

  “Are you Albert Cross?” the girl asked timidly.

  Albert nodded.

  “Um, this might seem a little weird, I don’t know, but I found this the other day. It has your name on it.” She held the envelope out for him to take.

  Albert took it from her, eyeing it curiously. “You found it?”

  “Um…sort of. Somebody left it taped to the outside of my bedroom window in the middle of the night.”

  He studied her face for a moment as he absorbed this information and then looked down at the envelope. He bent the metal clasps and opened it. Nothing inside was familiar to him. “I see. Well, thank you…”

  “Sure.” For a moment she stood there, not moving. “Um…I hope you don’t mind,” she said at last, “but I opened that. I didn’t know what it was. I almost threw it away…”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t really understand any of it. Is it important?”

  Albert shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s about Gilbert House,” the girl continued. “I don’t know much about any of that stuff, but I do know where Gilbert House is. I live really close to it. It’s in the woods behind my house.”

  Albert nodded. “I’ve never heard of it.” He removed the newspaper clippings from the envelope and studied them. One headline read, “ADMINISTRATION TO BREAK GROUND ON NEW BOYS DORMITORY.” Another read, “GILBERT CONTRACTED FOR UNIVERSITY EXPANSION.” The third caught his attention: “ARCHITECT DISAPPEARS WITH UNIVERSITY FUNDS.” The picture beneath this heading was of an older man, well dressed in an early twentieth century suit. He was sitting in an elegant, but masculine pose, holding an open pocket watch. The caption beneath the picture informed him that this was Wendell Gilbert, the aforementioned architect. He’d never heard of Wendell Gilbert or this Gilbert House in his entire life. Why anyone would want to send him an anonymous package of information about this man, he did not know.

  “It’s an old place in the woods, not far from the college,” the girl explained. “It was never actually finished. There’s only a little bit standing, probably all that was ever built, but the money he was given to build it apparently disappeared.”

  Albert nodded, interested. “And you know about this place?”

  “A little.”

  “And you are?”

  “Andrea Prophett,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly. Albert didn’t blame her. He didn’t like giving his name out to strangers, either.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” She seemed a little embarras
sed, and Albert was not surprised. “I was sort of hoping you could explain how it got dropped off at my house.”

  Albert shook his head again. “I really can’t. I’ve never seen this stuff before. It sounds very interesting, but—” He stopped as his eyes fell on the photo of Wendell Gilbert again, a picture nearly a century old.

  Suddenly, his heart was racing.

  “What is it?”

  Again, Albert shook his head. “I don’t know.” But he did. He thought of the phone calls, those mysteriously silent messages that filled his head with memories of dark, stone tunnels and eerily perfect statues doing things that should not be looked upon. He stuffed the clippings back into the envelope and said, “Thank you. Very much.”

  Andrea watched the door close, her mouth open, wanting to tell him to wait, to talk to her, but her courage left her and she could not speak. For a moment she stood there, feeling cheated. She lifted her hand to knock again, but she dropped it. She didn’t have the right to hound him.

  “Damn it!” she spat as she turned away. She’d very much hoped that this Albert Cross would have some information for her, that he would let her in on what was so important about Gilbert House. But why should he? After all, she was just some stupid girl delivering a misplaced envelope to him. Why should he care that she’d been scared out of her mind to have someone creep up to her bedroom window and stick it to the screen in the middle of the night?

  She walked away from Albert Cross’ door, disappointed, bitter and unsatisfied…but she was not quite willing to give up.

  Chapter 10

  “What are you going to do?” Nicole sat on one side of the couch, still wearing the blue jeans and tee shirt she’d worn to class that day.

  Brandy sat on the other side of the couch, already wearing her comfortable shorts, but still in the same blouse she’d worn to class. She was flipping through the channels on the television, not really watching what was flashing past her. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m scared for you guys.”

  Now Brandy looked at her, surprised. “Don’t be.”

  “You guys could have died down there.”

  Brandy nodded. They certainly could have. Any number of times they could have. But they didn’t. And there was certainly no reason to suddenly start thinking that they still might.

  “Are you going to go back?”

  “No.” But the answer was quick, sharp, anxious, like a lie. She realized this and said, “I don’t know.”

  “Was it really that scary down there?”

  “Oh yeah,” Brandy replied. “Scared the shit out of me.” She continued to flip through the channels without seeing them. She did not want to think about the temple, much less return there. But it wasn’t because she was traumatized over it. She was not a weak woman. She did not lie awake at night, tortured by the memory of shivering in the dark, naked and vulnerable. Admittedly, there were a few nightmares, mostly involving the spikes she’d almost tumbled into and that terrible fear room. There’d also been a few about those strange, clicking-clattering creatures they’d heard in the maze beneath the bridge. But she didn’t live in fear of what she saw down there. She knew she was safe here above ground. They’d left all the frightening things behind them when they returned to the surface.

  But the very thought of returning to that place terrified her. It wasn’t an irrational fear; she knew the dangers down there were very real. And it wasn’t even herself for which she was afraid. She couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to Albert, especially now that he’d become so important to her. That was why she made it clear she did not want to return to the temple. She knew how badly he wanted to learn its secrets. She wanted to keep him out of there, at least for now. If and when she chose to go back, she wanted it to be on her own terms.

  But now her time to return would not be her own. He had found them. The man with no eyes. He had invaded their lives through their very phone and was calling them back into the tunnels, back to the temple where only the blind stood a chance. It was this invasion of her security that made her sick with dread right now, not the temple itself.

  “All of it?”

  Brandy glanced up, distracted. “What?”

  “Was all of it scary?”

  Brandy stared at her for a moment, considering. Finally, she shook her head. “No. Not all of it. Some of it was cool. Sometimes I think I’d kill to find out what that place really is. Shit, I don’t even know what possessed me to go down there with Albert in the first place. I must have been crazy.” She curled her legs beneath her as if she’d grown uncomfortable and continued changing the channels. “I don’t know. Maybe I already had a crush on him and just saw an excuse to get to know him. Maybe deep inside I was just hoping for him to get his hands on me.” She laughed softly. “If so I really got my wish!”

  Nicole smiled. She remembered the story well. They’d told it to her at least a dozen times, several of those times because she’d begged them to tell it. It still fascinated her, the very idea of stone statues so real they could force you to fear, hate and even fuck! It was inconceivable.

  Brandy smiled softly. The remote was still in her hand but now it lay against her leg, the television stopped on some old movie she vaguely recognized. Talking about it made the phone calls easier to deal with. And it helped her to remember that not all the events of that night were bad. Not by any means. That was where she first kissed Albert. They shared their first intercourse down there, both on the way in and on the way out. The first time was uncontrollable, unexpected and frighteningly random. The second time was different. It was more intimate, more romantic. Remembering these things made her fear of the place seem silly, even foolish. How could she possibly fear someplace that gave her such treasured memories?

  Albert had been right about the sex room. Its effects were permanent, at least so far. But this was by no means a bad thing. It could stimulate them to make wonderful love and it bound them in a way that was incredibly intimate. She had even wished a time or two that they could return to that room again, just the two of them, to make love among those extraordinary statues. But of course they could never do that. They might never come back out.

  Nicole saw the expression on her best friend’s face soften and was relieved. Brandy had been anxious all day over those phone calls and it was beginning to worry her. It was these events, much more than her heartache, that brought her back to her friends’ apartment this afternoon. She was completely capable of being on her own, after all. She was still upset over her breakup with Earl, but she knew it was not Earl that she really missed. Earl was not nice to her. She only missed the idea of him, the idea of a boyfriend, of having a special someone the way Brandy had a special someone.

  But Earl Tannis was no Albert Cross. Earl Tannis was not a fraction of the man Albert was. Earl was hot. He possessed a gorgeous body. But he still didn’t measure up to Brandy's wonderful boyfriend. Earl was only occupying that empty place in her life that Albert filled in Brandy’s. She had only wanted the company of her friends to help her stay away from his phone calls and his phony apologies, because sometimes having Earl around seemed better than having no one at all. This was the fourth time they'd broken up and she was not going to let there be a fifth, no matter how lonely she was.

  Albert walked into the room with a large, manila envelope in one hand.

  “Who was at the door?” Brandy asked.

  “Some girl. Andrea. She dropped this off.”

  “What is it?”

  “Here.” He dropped it in Brandy’s lap and walked back toward the bedroom. “She said someone stuck it to her window in the middle of the night.”

  “That’s really weird.” Brandy opened the envelope and pulled out the contents.

  Nicole slid over next to her to get a look.

  “I don’t get it,” Brandy said. “What’s it about?”

  “Don’t you see it?” Albert asked from the bedroom.

  “See what?”

  “The
picture of Wendell Gilbert.”

  “What about it?”

  He returned with the box that he’d taken into the temple with him the previous year.

  Nicole watched him open it, fascinated, as she always was with Albert’s box. She’d gone through its contents countless times, like a child marveling over the contents of a real treasure chest.

  Albert removed the silver pocket watch from the box and handed it to Brandy. She looked at it for a moment, its surface pale, its craftwork etched with tarnish. The dull G stared up at her. For a moment she did not get it, then she glanced at the picture of Wendell Gilbert again and her eyes opened wide.

  “Oh my god!” Nicole said, looking at the picture.

  “Is it the same one?” Brandy asked.

  “Got to be.”

  “Is it another clue?” Nicole asked, staring at the decades old picture of Wendell Gilbert and his fancy pocket watch, the very same pocket watch that Brandy now held in her hand.

  “I think so,” Albert replied.

  Nicole felt herself swelling with excitement. “Are you going to go back to the temple?”

  Albert shook his head. “I’m going to Gilbert House.”

  Brandy looked up at him, afraid. “I don’t think you should.”

  “You don’t have to come. I can go alone. This one just had my name on it.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not letting you.”

  “I have to. I’ll never know otherwise. I’ll be fine.”

  “Then I’m coming with.”

  “Me too,” Nicole said quickly.

  Albert looked from Brandy to Nicole, his expression worried. “I don’t—”

  “I’m going with you,” Nicole said. “I want to. Even if Brandy doesn’t, I’m going.”

  “I’m going too,” Brandy insisted. “Or none of us is going.” It was clear that she preferred it the latter way.

  Albert did not want to take them along. He’d talked Brandy into going into the temple with him and he’d nearly gotten her killed. But he needed to go. He needed to find out what this was all about. There had been four more messages on the machine when he arrived home earlier that afternoon, all of them filled with that strange silence that sent memories of the temple rushing through his head. The last one was a clear image of the strange, eyeless man saying, “Another day.”