A New Fear

by R. L. Stine

  Nicholas grinned when he reached the Fear Street sign. He rounded the corner and raced down the street lined with small houses. Lights glowed in the windows. He could see one family having their supper together.

  He turned onto the main street. It stood almost deserted, the shops closed.

  Nicholas caught sight of a man scurrying along the muddy sidewalk. He asked for directions to a boardinghouse before the man rushed past him.

  Nicholas continued to imagine what his new life would be like as he headed to the boardinghouse. He would definitely buy an automobile, he decided, remembering the Runabout he had seen by the bank. He and Rosalyn would take a drive every Sunday.

  And he would buy Rosalyn as many dresses as she wanted. She would be the most beautiful woman in town. Everyone would recognize them as they motored by. There go the Fears, they would whisper. The richest family in town.

  Nicholas spotted the big blue house the man had described. He dashed up the steps, but hesitated to knock on the door.

  I certainly do not look like the richest man in town today, Nicholas thought. He was soaked. His shirt had a tear in it, and his small suitcase appeared shabbier than ever. He wondered if the landlady would even give him a room.

  The door squeaked as a teenage girl threw it open. A bright yellow ribbon held her blond hair behind her head. A few brown freckles dotted her nose. Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled up at him.

  “I am Betsy Winter. My mother owns the boardinghouse. I noticed you come up the walk. I hope you are looking for a room,” she exclaimed.

  Relieved, Nicholas returned her smile. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Momma!” she called over her shoulder. “We have a new boarder!”

  “Won’t your mother want to ask me some questions?”

  “I think you are handsome,” Betsy replied. “That is all I need to know. Come on in.”

  Handsome! Nicholas felt his face grow warm. He hoped Betsy did not notice his embarrassment.

  Nicholas stepped into a large parlor. Lace curtains hung at the windows. Carefully dusted porcelain figurines sat on tiny tables scattered throughout the room.

  He felt awkward. Much too big and clumsy for the dainty room. And he was dripping all over the carpet.

  A small woman bustled in. Nicholas noticed that her hair was the same blond as Betsy’s, with a little gray streaked through it. Mrs. Winter also had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

  “Momma, this is our new boarder. Isn’t he sweet?” Betsy bounced up and down on her toes. Nicholas had never met a girl with so much energy and enthusiasm. She reminded him of a yellow puppy.

  Mrs. Winter shoved a strand of hair back into her bun and laughed. “It seems Betsy has made my decision for me. Welcome to the boardinghouse, Mr.—?”

  “Fear,” Nicholas said. “I am Nicholas Fear.” He relaxed. Both mother and daughter were so warm and friendly, he could not stay nervous.

  Betsy squealed and dropped down on the sofa, her blue eyes wide. “Fear! Are you related to the crazy people who used to live in the mansion?”

  “Betsy!” Mrs. Winter chided. “It is not polite to call people crazy.” She smiled apologetically at Nicholas.

  Nicholas suddenly realized he knew almost nothing about his family. He knew they once lived in a big house, on a street named after them. But he had no idea what kind of people they were.

  “But the Fearswere crazy, Momma,” Betsy insisted. “Everybody thinks so.”

  “I have been told my great-grandparents used to live in that house,” Nicholas answered slowly. “My father died there.”

  “Now that I think about it, you do look remarkably like Daniel Fear,” Mrs. Winter said. “We need to get you settled in your room right away. You are soaked.”

  Nicholas felt grateful to Mrs. Winter for changing the subject.

  “I will take him.” Betsy jumped up from the sofa and grabbed his suitcase.

  “Come down to the kitchen once you dry off and I will give you something to eat,” Mrs. Winter called as he started after Betsy. “And mind you do not let my daughter talk your ear off,” she added.

  “I know you will like it here,” Betsy said. “We started renting rooms about three years ago. After my father died. He never had a lot of money, so we were not left with much.”

  Nicholas had never heard someone talk so much or so fast.

  “Not like your family,” Betsy rushed on as she reached the top of the stairs and led him down a long hallway. “I imagine they left tons of money. They owned all that land. And that huge mansion.”

  Betsy stopped and opened the door to a small bedroom. “This is yours. You share a bath two doors down. I will leave you some towels. I am so happy you are staying here.”

  Betsy hurried away with a little wave. Then she spun back to face him. “I hope I did not offend you by talking about your family. Momma always says I do not think before I speak. Please tell me you are not angry.”

  Nicholas shook his head and smiled at her. How could anyone be angry with Betsy? It was clear she just blurted out whatever popped into her mind. “I hope you will tell me more about my family later,” he answered. “Do you know about the fire?”

  “It happened before I was born,” Betsy told him. “But everyone knows about it.Poof! In one big fire, all the Fears were gone. And everything went with them. Except the land. Andrew Manning owns it now. He is the wealthiest man in Shadyside. I heard—”

  “Betsy!” her mother called. “Come down here and leave Mr. Fear in peace, please.”

  Betsy winked at Nicholas. “Yes, Momma,” she answered.

  As he watched Betsy scamper down the stairs, Nicholas decided that first thing in the morning he would make a call on Mr. Andrew Manning. Mr. Manning might be the wealthiest person in town now … but not for long, Nicholas promised himself. Not for long.

  Betsy was right, Nicholas thought as he peered up at the Mannings’ house the next morning. Mr. Manning must be rich.

  Nicholas pushed open the huge wrought-iron gate and walked up the pebbled path. He wondered how much of Mr. Manning’s wealth came from the Fear land. How much of it rightfully belonged to Nicholas.

  He climbed the steps of the wooden porch, then grabbed the brass door knocker and gave it three sharp raps.

  “I am coming!” a shrill voice cried. “I am coming!”

  The door swung open. A wrinkled-faced woman with snow-white hair stared at Nicholas. Her gray eyes widened. Then she uttered a loud shriek of terror.

  “What has happened now?” a short man bellowed as he strode up behind the woman. He led her to a kitchen chair, gesturing for Nicholas to follow.

  “I apologize. Somehow I frightened—“Nicholas began.

  “Take deep breaths,” he ordered the woman, ignoring Nicholas. She obediently sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Mrs. Baker is always having these little fits,” the man explained to Nicholas. “Yesterday, she fainted because the butcher sent the chickens over without cutting off their heads. Said their little eyes were staring at her.”

  “Mr. Manning,” the woman gasped. “It is Daniel Fear, risen from the grave!”

  “Nonsense,” Andrew Manning insisted.

  “It is him I tell you! I would recognize him anywhere!” Mrs. Baker cried, her voice growing higher and higher.

  “Then he is certainly well-preserved, isn’t he, Mrs. Baker? I wish the years had been as kind to me.” He turned his attention back to Nicholas. “Who are you, young man?”

  “Nicholas Fear,” he answered, fighting to sound calm and confident. “I am Daniel Fear’s son.”

  “You see, Mrs. Baker. There is a logical explanation for everything,” Mr. Manning scolded.

  “I seem to be scaring people all over town,” Nicholas admitted. “I never knew my father and I had such a similar appearance.”

  Nicholas took a deep breath. “I wanted to speak with you about the property in the area, Mr. Manning,” he added.


  “Wonderful. I enjoy company in the morning. Mrs. Baker, fetch us some coffee and some of your strawberry tarts when you have recovered yourself.”

  Mr. Manning led the way down the hall. Nicholas peered into each room they passed. Thick draperies covered the windows. Oil paintings hung on the walls. Dark mahogany furniture filled each room.

  Power, Nicholas thought in awe. This is what wealth and power look like. This is what I want.

  He followed Mr. Manning into the study. Mr. Manning sat down in a large leather chair behind his desk. He gestured to a smaller chair in front of him. Nicholas sat down.

  Before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baker bustled in with the coffee and strawberry tarts. She set them on the corner of the desk, careful to stay away from Nicholas.

  “Silly woman,” Mr. Manning muttered. He smiled at Nicholas. “She has been with me since my wife died, and practically raised my daughter, Ruth. So I suppose I must put up with her.”

  Nicholas heard the affection in Mr. Manning’s voice. Maybe this will be easier than I thought. Maybe he will understand.

  Andrew reached for a tart and shoved it into his mouth. “Delicious. Try one, dear boy,” he mumbled.

  “No, thank you,” Nicholas replied. Nicholas felt his stomach knot. He shifted in the chair, the leather creaking.

  Mr. Manning licked the strawberry jam off his fingers. “You wanted to discuss property. Tell me what I can do for you.”

  Nicholas took a deep breath. He leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “You can return to me what is rightfully mine.”

  Andrew lifted his thick, gray eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

  “My inheritance—the fortune that belongs to the Fear family.”

  Andrew Manning threw his head back and burst out laughing.

  Chapter 18

  Nicholas clenched his fists as Mr. Manning let out another roar of laughter. He felt as though he were suffocating. Rage burned through him.

  “My dear boy,” Mr. Manning said as he gasped for breath. “There is no fortune.”

  “You are lying!” Nicholas shot back. “You do not want to give up the money that belongs to me!”

  “That is a serious accusation,” Mr. Manning answered calmly. “You are welcome to talk to the president of the bank—and anyone else. They will all tell you the same thing. You have no inheritance—except for huge back taxes on the land.”

  Nicholas stood, his knees weak with shock. He could not stay in the room another minute. He could not allow Mr. Manning to see how shaken he was.

  “Sit back down,” Mr. Manning ordered. “Please. I should not have laughed.”

  Nicholas slowly returned to his chair. “Back taxes?” he whispered, the anger giving way to despair.

  Mr. Manning nodded. “I am afraid so. I had grand plans to build houses along each side of the street. Beautiful houses.”

  The older man shook his head. “But I underestimated how superstitious people can be. No one wanted to live on Fear land. They had all heard one wild story or another. I had to abandon the project.”

  Mr. Manning’s chair scraped against the floor as he got up. He placed his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “I truly am sorry.”

  “I know,” Nicholas rasped. “I just …” He sighed deeply.

  “Had hopes,” Mr. Manning finished for him. “And dreams.”

  “Something like that,” Nicholas agreed as he turned to face Mr. Manning. “I am sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No bother,” Mr. Manning said. He opened the French doors leading to the garden. “Step outside for some fresh air. You look as though you need some.”

  He and Nicholas walked onto the patio. Mr. Manning breathed deeply. “I love the way the air smells in the morning.”

  Nicholas stared out at the trees and flower beds until he felt in control of himself. Then he stuck out his hand to Mr. Manning. “Thank you again. I am sure you are very busy, so—”

  Mr. Manning gave Nicholas’s hand a firm shake. “What are your plans now?” he asked. “Will you return home?”

  Nicholas shook his head. He could not go back to Shadow Cove a poor man. “No,” he replied. “There is a girl back home I want to marry. But her father will not give his consent. He wants his daughter to marry a wealthy man.”

  Nicholas hesitated a moment. He felt ashamed to tell Mr. Manning the rest. “I promised Rosalyn—that is her name—that I would return with a fortune big enough to convince her father to change his mind,” he admitted. “I thought it would be so easy.”

  “Every father tends to think no man is good enough for his daughter,” Mr. Manning told him sympathetically. “I know I worry about finding someone good enough for my Ruth. Someone who will love her and make her happy.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “Rosalyn’s father is different. He does not care how much I love Rosalyn. He only cares about how much money I have. I have to prove to him that I can earn as much as any other man.”

  Mr. Manning studied Nicholas for a moment. “I have a sawmill. You can work there. Learn the trade,” he offered. “The pay is fair. A man with ambition could make something of himself in my sawmill.”

  Nicholas felt a little hope return. A job in a mill was not what he had in mind when he left Shadow Cove. But it was a start. “I am a man with ambition,” he declared.

  “Then I expect to see you at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow morning,” Mr. Manning said. “Anyone can give you directions to the sawmill.”

  “Thank you. You will not be disappointed,” Nicholas promised. Mr. Manning showed him through the house and he hurried down the walkway toward the wrought-iron gate.

  He clanged the gate shut behind him and took a few steps down the street. Then he stopped and turned back. He waved to Mr. Manning. “See you at seven!” he called. “Even earlier!”

  Mr. Manning waved back. “Seven is fine,” he yelled before he returned to his study.

  I will work hard, Nicholas promised himself, staring up at the Mannings’ elegant home. I will learn everything about the lumber business. And someday I will have a house as large as this one. Someday I will regain the Fear property.

  A piercing scream rang out behind him.

  Before Nicholas could turn around, something rammed into him. Threw him to the ground.

  The air rushed out of his lungs with awhoosh.

  Burning pain shot through his side.

  Something heavy pressed down on his chest.

  Dots of light burst in front of his eyes.

  He could not breathe. Could not breathe.

  Chapter 19

  Pain burst through Nicholas’s chest as he gasped for air.

  Someone moaned.

  He forced his eyes open.

  A bicycle lay beside him. A tall, skinny girl was sprawled over his chest.

  No wonder I cannot breathe, he thought.

  She lifted her head and flung her tangled hair out of her eyes. She had black eyes. Black eyes as lifeless as the eyes of the fish Nicholas used to catch.

  The girl pushed herself off his chest and scrambled to her feet. “I am sorry. It is all my fault. I am so clumsy. Are you hurt?” she asked.

  Nicholas sat up. “No, I am fine. But what about you? Are you hurt?”

  “No. Do not worry about me. I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were going to stop in the middle of the road,” she explained. “And I am too slow. I could not stop in time.” She reached down and helped Nicholas to his feet.

  Her hand felt moist and cold. Like holding hands with a fish, Nicholas thought.

  He could not help comparing this girl with Rosalyn. Rosalyn’s eyes were deep brown. They reflected every emotion. And her skin was warm and smelled like roses.

  “I should have watched where I was going,” Nicholas said, trying to be polite. The girl could not help her strange black eyes and clammy skin.

  He released the girl’s hand and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

  She reached down and pulled her bicycle
back onto its wheels. “I have never seen you before,” she said quickly, her eyes lowered. “Are you new in town?”

  “Yes, I arrived yesterday. I am Nicholas Fear.”

  “I hope our next meeting is not so painful,” the girl added, her eyes still on the ground. “I must practice using the brakes.”

  She is shy, Nicholas realized. “And I must practice looking where I am going, Miss—”

  “Oh! Manning,” she answered. She sounded startled. “Ruth Manning.”

  “I just met your father,” Nicholas said. “He gave me a job.”

  “That is wonderful,” Ruth exclaimed. “I feel much better now. At least one person in my family gave you a suitable welcome to Shadyside.”

  “You must stop worrying about me. I am perfectly fine,” Nicholas insisted. “Good-bye, Miss Manning. I hope to see you again.”

  “Oh, Mr. Fear?” Ruth hesitated.

  “What is it?” Nicholas asked.

  “You might want to button your shirt before you go,” she said.

  Nicholas stared down. Three of the buttons had come undone when he fell. He laughed. “Thank you. I would not make a good first impression walking around town like this.”

  He began to rebutton his shirt. “What is that you wear?” Ruth asked, pointing to the amulet.

  “It was a gift,” he answered. “A gift from my fiancée.”

  “I have never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered. She reached out with trembling fingers and flipped the amulet over. “Dominatio per malum,” she read. “Power through evil.”

  For the first time, her gaze met his. He shivered as he stared into her expressionless black eyes.

  “Do you believe in evil, Mr. Fear?” Ruth asked solemnly.

  “I believe in power,” he answered as he removed the disk from her grasp and buttoned his shirt.

  Nicholas arrived for work at sunrise the next morning. He watched as several men turned cranks to lift the large doors.

  While he waited, Nicholas studied everything he could see. He wanted to learn faster than anyone Mr. Manning had ever hired.

  The sawmill had been built beside a wide, flowing river. The water rushed by and turned a paddle wheel. The wheel ran the machinery in the mill.