“No,” Rachel replied. “The Alsteens lived there thirty or forty years ago, but it’s unlivable now. Pam told me they both died in that house.”
“No children?” Eliza asked. “Inheritors?”
“They live in Madison,” Rachel answered. “No way they were moving back here. They tried to sell it, but you can’t sell anything in this town. I suppose they still own it.”
Rachel put the car in drive, but Eliza asked her to stop, and got out of the car. She walked several feet back to the small bridge they crossed. Rachel came up behind her.
“Sense something?” Rachel asked.
“This creek,” Eliza said. “Where does it run?”
Rachel looked down at the stream under the bridge. “Right along the property line,” she replied, raising her hand to point.
“Cuts the house off from the rest of the town?” Eliza asked, remembering something Granger had told her about bodies of water, and how they could interfere with things in the River.
“Ah, that’s right,” Rachel said, walking back to the car. “Wouldn’t want to carry a token over that. Might rule this house out.”
They got back in the car and continued to the next house, located west of the hall. Once again Rachel angled the car so that the headlights lit up the building.
“The VanLanens,” Rachel announced. “They left about the time the Alsteens did.”
The porch of the house was sagging; two of its support poles were missing. The rest of the house was overgrown with large bushes.
Rachel moved on, coming to a small red-brick structure set back from the road to allow for a couple of parking spaces. Rachel pulled into one of them and got out of the car, leaving the lights on. Eliza joined her.
“I call it the red-brick store,” Rachel said. “I think it was named Smitty’s or Smarly’s or something like that. Probably the only business the town ever had.”
Eliza looked over the façade. It was a two-story building. A large rusted padlock held the front door closed. Downstairs windows had been boarded over, but three windows upstairs still had glass panes. As her eyes danced over the building’s front, she felt a slight tug inside her.
“Is it safe to drop into the River here?” Eliza asked. “The threat is only at the hall, right?”
“So far as I know,” Rachel replied.
Eliza let herself slip into the flow. A face appeared in the window above; a man, staring down at them. She watched as the man realized he could be seen; he stepped back, his body disappearing into the darkness.
Eliza felt the hairs go up on the back of her neck. She dropped from the River.
“Someone’s upstairs,” she said.
“Oh, no,” Rachel replied. “A squatter, probably.”
“No, not alive,” Eliza said.
Rachel turned to her. “What did you see?”
“A man, in that window,” Eliza replied, pointing. “He stepped back when he realized I could see him.”
“Not a real man?”
“No. Wasn’t there before I dropped.”
“I wonder who it could be,” Rachel replied.
Eliza walked to the door and examined the padlock; it was intact.
“I think there’s a back entrance,” Rachel said, turning to walk around the building.
Eliza followed her. At the back of the building Eliza found another door with a padlock, but there was a boarded-over window next to the door. Its boards were loose, and as Eliza pulled them, the sheets of plywood slipped from the window frame.
“You got a flashlight?” Eliza asked, peering into the open window.
“There might be one in the car,” Rachel replied, running back to the vehicle.
As Eliza waited for her, she stuck her head through the window. It was dark inside, so dark she couldn’t make out any interior features. She listened; it was silent. The only noise was Rachel in the distance, looking for a flashlight, and the sound of her own breathing.
“Found one in the glove compartment,” Rachel said, handing the old chrome flashlight to Eliza. “Can’t speak to its batteries. It was flickering on and off for me.”
Eliza turned on the flashlight and pointed it through the window. Two beady eyes stared back at them from the center of the room near the floor.
“Oh, I hate rats!” Rachel said.
“Come on,” Eliza replied, stepping through the window frame and into the structure. Rachel followed. When Eliza turned the flashlight back into the room, the rat was gone.
“And it’s even worse when they disappear like that!” Rachel said. “Now it could be anywhere!”
“I grew up on a farm,” Eliza said, walking to the center of the room. “They don’t bother me. I disposed of more dead rats than I can count.”
The room was empty except for a pile of garbage in one corner; as Eliza shined the flashlight upon it, they could see clothes and the remnants of an old sleeping bag.
“Someone used to camp out here,” Rachel said. “Not recently though.”
Eliza led them through the room and into a second chamber. It, too, was empty except for a pile of refuse that had been swept into a corner.
“This used to be a store?” Eliza asked.
“That’s what Marc said,” Rachel replied. “Like a little general store.”
“I guess I can imagine aisles of shelves in here,” Eliza said. “Maybe a cash register over there.”
“Look, stairs,” Rachel said, pointing to an open doorway at the far end of the room.
Eliza walked to the doorway and looked up. A narrow stairway led to the next floor. Wainscoting that had covered the bottom half of the walls on either side had been removed, exposing very old lathe and plaster. There was no handrail.
Eliza started up, testing the strength of the first stair. It held her weight, so she continued to the next. “Seems sturdy,” she said over her shoulder. She could hear Rachel following her.
When they reached the top, she turned to the right, entering a hallway with three doors. To her left were windows that looked out over the back of the building.
Eliza opened the first door. At the far end was a window that faced the front of the store; the rest of the room was empty.
She moved on to the middle door and opened it. The room was larger. In its center on the far wall was another window. There were cracks in some of the panes.
“Which window was he in?” Rachel whispered.
“This one,” Eliza replied. “Let’s check the last one.” She pulled the door closed and walked to the third door; it was locked and wouldn’t open.
“What now?” Rachel asked.
“I guess we should see if he’ll show up,” Eliza replied, walking back to the middle door and stepping inside. She pointed the flashlight at the walls and slowly turned, illuminating all of the corners of the room. It was empty. She walked to the window and looked down at the car.
“It was this window,” she said. “Can you feel it?”
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “There is something here.”
Eliza entered the River and turned from the window to examine the room. The man was standing between them and the door.
It felt like a standoff. Eliza looked at the man, and he stared back. Eliza could sense Rachel looking at both of them, waiting for something to happen.
The man stepped forward. Please, Gloria. Please.
Gloria? Eliza replied. I’m not Gloria.
You’ve got to stop, the man said, taking another step. It’s going to kill you. It’s going to kill us both.
Eliza took a step back.
This is insanity! the man said. You’re going to…
The man took a step and then froze, a look of surprise and horror on his face. He slowly looked down and grasped at his chest, then looked back up at Eliza. He was in agony.
Then he faded.
Eliza turned to look at Rachel. Do you know who this is?
No idea, Rachel replied.
Eliza turned and saw the man back at the windo
w, looking out. She walked up behind him.
What are you doing? she asked him.
Waiting for her, he replied, staring out the window. She could see his eyes slowly scanning the horizon.
Who? Eliza asked.
Gloria, he replied, then looked down. She’s here! He stepped back from the window, the same way Eliza had seen him step back when she observed him from outside.
Who are you? Eliza asked.
The man continued to retreat from the window, a look of anxiety and fear on his face.
I am lost, he replied, and faded again.
The room was silent. Eliza turned to Rachel. Any idea what’s going on here?
None, Rachel replied.
They waited. After a minute in silence, the man appeared again, this time closer to the door. Please, Gloria, he repeated. Please.
They watched as he took a step forward.
You’ve got to stop. It’s going to kill you. It’s going to kill us both.
He’s repeating, Rachel whispered.
This is insanity! the man said. You’re going to…
Look, Eliza whispered to Rachel. See his face?
Yeah, he’s in shock, Rachel replied. Looks like…
Like he was stabbed, mid-sentence? Eliza finished.
Yeah, Rachel replied.
The man faded from view, and after a few seconds he reappeared at the window, looking out.
Eliza walked up behind him once again, knowing she’d only have a few moments to question him before his cycle would reengage. What is your name? she asked.
Peter, he replied.
Who are you waiting for? Eliza asked.
Gloria, Peter replied.
Did she kill you? Eliza asked.
She would never…she couldn’t… His eyes lowered, seeing someone on the ground just outside the building. She’s here! he said, stepping back from the window.
Why did she kill you? Eliza asked.
The man looked at Eliza. He was confused by her question, and shook his head a little, trying to understand it. Then he faded again.
Gloria, Eliza said, turning to Rachel. Wasn’t that the owner of the diary you and Marc found?
Yes, Gloria Grignon, Rachel replied.
Anything you remember from it that might explain this? Eliza asked. Any mention of Peter?
Rachel lowered her head, thinking. It’s been a while since I saw that diary. I don’t remember anything about a Peter.
The man appeared once again, replaying his pattern. Eliza and Rachel ignored him.
I want to see her farm, Eliza said. Maybe there’s something there that will explain all this.
OK, Rachel replied. I’ll take you there next.
Before we go, Eliza said, turning to look at the wall on the far side of the room.
Yeah? Rachel asked.
That third door in the hallway was locked, Eliza replied. I think I’ll drift through the wall and see if there was a reason why.
Alright, Rachel said.
Eliza moved toward the wall. It still unnerved her to pass through things; the sensation of not being able to see what was coming bothered her, and there was an irrational fear of becoming stuck in the middle of the wall, unable to get free.
She passed through, and immediately felt a wave strike her, thick and heavy with horror. Once she cleared the wall, she turned to look around the room; it was dark, and her flashlight was still back in the hand of her physical body, but in the River she could see that something was very, very wrong. The room was stained a dark color, with huge splatters running along the walls. It smelled like rotten meat. Eliza suddenly felt sticky and warm, as though something thick had been poured over her body.
Oh god! she thought, and immediately pulled back, leaving through the wall and re-entering the middle room. Peter was back at the window, looking out.
What did you see? Rachel asked.
Not sure, Eliza replied, but it was disgusting. Made me feel like I might be sick.
Eliza dropped from the River. Peter disappeared from the window, and she spun her flashlight around the room. It looked the same. She pointed her light at the wall she’d just emerged from; something horrible was on the other side, hidden beyond the plaster.
Rachel left the flow as well, just as Eliza turned to leave the room. “Where are you going?” Rachel asked.
Eliza walked out of the room and down the hallway to the third door, Rachel following. She tried the handle; it didn’t move.
“Hold this, will you?” Eliza asked, handing Rachel the flashlight.
Rachel took it. “What are you going to do?”
Eliza pulled a small lockpick kit from her back pocket. It was something she’d begun to carry since her time with Aceveda.
“I’m going to pick this lock,” Eliza said, kneeling down. “Keep the light pointed here, please.”
Rachel held the flashlight. Eliza noticed the beam bouncing a little, and caught Rachel nervously shifting from foot to foot.
The lock clicked and Eliza pushed open the door. A musty odor billowed out. Eliza took the flashlight from Rachel and slowly walked inside. It looked like the previous rooms, with a window to the front.
“Seems normal,” Rachel said.
“Looks are deceiving,” Eliza replied. “The flooring is different than the other two rooms.”
“Paint, too,” Rachel replied.
“I’m going to drop into the River again,” Eliza said. “Do me a favor and stay out, keep an eye on me, OK?”
“Sure,” Rachel replied, standing closer to her.
Eliza closed her eyes and let herself enter the flow once again. Immediately she regretted it, feeling as though she was drowning in some kind of warm, sticky substance.
She held her hand in front of her face. It was covered in thick, red blood that felt disgustingly hot. She wanted to shake it and remove the feeling, but knew it wouldn’t come off, even if she tried. The smell of the room assaulted her nostrils, filling them with an acrid stench, making her fight off the urge to vomit.
Looking down, she saw pieces of flesh strewn around the floor, some within inches of her shoes. Pools of blood had collected around them; she could see more blood oozing from some of the body parts. The weight of the warm, sticky liquid on her body suddenly felt heavier, as she realized it was the same blood she was seeing on the floor. It was as though she was inside a slaughterhouse, standing amidst the butchered carcasses.
Then she saw the head.
At first she wasn’t sure if it was human, but the longer she looked at it, the more convinced she became. It was lying on the floor next to a large metal pail, its eyes open, staring blankly at her. Its neck had been roughly severed, and blood was dripping from it, adding to the other pools on the floor. A small hatchet lay on the ground next to the pail; she could see bloody fingerprints on it.
She dropped from the River and immediately took in a large lungful of air.
“What?” Rachel asked, stepping forward, grabbing her arm and placing a hand on her back.
“Don’t drop,” Eliza replied. “Don’t drop.”
“Why? That bad?”
“That bad,” Eliza said, taking a deep breath, and bending over to place her hands on her knees.
Chapter Four
Rachel parked the car in front of the Hocker residence. “We can walk to the Grignon farm,” she said. “Give me a second, I’m going to return the keys to Pam and tell her we might be out past their bedtime.”
Eliza waited while Rachel went inside. She pulled the front of her jacket tighter; the temperature had dropped, and the pleasant fall evening was turning into a cool night.
Rachel returned, carrying an extra flashlight. “Thought we could use two,” she said, and began walking north. “When I figured I was giving you the grand tour, I thought it made sense to drive, but you can see everything’s so close, really. It won’t take us more than a couple of minutes to walk to the farm.”
As they crossed a road, Eliza turned to her lef
t and saw the hall in the distance, unobscured by trees. “It looks so quiet,” she said.
“Yeah, the haunted places always do,” Rachel replied, leading her on.
A couple of minutes later they were walking down a tree-lined drive that had a short bend. When they cleared the bend, Eliza gasped.
“Oh my god!” she said. “Look at it!”
“What?” Rachel asked.
“It looks exactly like my house!” Eliza replied. “Even the garage is in the same place!”
They walked toward the house. As they approached, Eliza marveled at the similarities; the porch, the placement of the windows — even the roof and the chimney were exactly the same.
“I guess so,” Rachel said. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I mean, it needs paint, but if it had a fresh coat of white, it’d look almost the same.”
“Maybe the same set of blueprints,” Rachel offered.
Eliza watched the windows of the garage as they passed it. She wondered if she dropped into the River, if she’d see a ghost there like the one at home.
Rachel cast her flashlight upon the house.
“Are you sure no one’s here?” Eliza asked.
“Positive, unless they’re squatting,” Rachel replied. “Come on, I’ll show you what I know.”
As they approached the front door, Eliza felt something tug inside; it reminded her of the feeling she felt at the red brick store. Rachel opened the front door and they crossed the threshold; she felt the tug rise from her chest to her head as they passed the doorframe.
“Did you feel that?” Eliza asked.
“Feel what?”
“As we walked through the door.”
“No, I didn’t feel anything.”
Eliza turned and dropped into the River, then walked back through the doorway. A feeling of power descended upon her, making her skin ripple. She felt as if tiny sparks of electricity were emanating from her fingertips. She left the River.
“That’s the gateway,” Eliza said. “The feeling is incredible.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel replied. “Marc and I tried that. It didn’t work.”
“Talk about a token!” Eliza said, holding her hands up to examine her fingers. “I feel like I’m on fire.”
The Haunting of Waverly Hall Page 3