House of Shadows

by Darcie Coates

  Garrett moved quickly, and the bruises across Sophie’s chest made it hard to match his pace, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking, “How did you know where to find us?”

  “Joseph slipped a note under my door, explaining what he was doing. I found it when the fire woke me.”

  “The fire—is the real house burning, too?”

  “The real house,” Garrett repeated, and a bitter smile flitted over his face. “Hah. They’re one and the same building; the door just lets you see it with different eyes. But yes—Northwood is burning.”

  “Good,” Sophie whispered, and Garrett gave her a proper smile.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at Joseph. She had a horrible, overwhelming fear of seeing his face blank in death. The only thing keeping her moving was the hope of getting him out of the house; if she lost that, she didn’t think she could take another step.

  “Where’s Elise?”

  “Outside.”

  “And Rose?”

  “I couldn’t find her.”

  The coldness in Garrett’s voice was painfully familiar; it was the same tone Joseph had used when she’d first met him. I can’t believe I used to be so frightened of him.

  Fire had caught onto the left half of the stairs just before the third floor’s landing. The flames licked across the wooden handrails and danced high above their heads. “Cover your face,” Garrett said as he moved close to the stairs’ right side.

  The fire spat as they passed it, and the heat made Sophie squint. The temperature dropped once they reached the landing beyond it, though. The hallways were dark and cold; the fire hadn’t yet spread to the third floor, though Sophie guessed it wouldn’t take long. Garrett tightened his grip on Joseph and increased his pace to a brisk half-jog as he took the left pathway. Sophie picked her skirts up and followed. She had to run to match Garrett’s long strides, and she was soon breathless.

  A scraping, hissing noise sent a shiver dancing up Sophie’s spine, and she tugged on Garrett’s sleeve to stop him. “There are corpses ahead.”

  He swore under his breath. “I don’t have a gun. We’ll take a different path.”

  They turned and retraced their steps past the stairs, where the fire was rapidly spreading. Barely five paces later, Sophie pulled on Garrett’s sleeve again. “There are more this way.”

  With the fire contained to the lower levels, the cadavers on the third floor hadn’t yet been infected by the flame. They writhed forward, spilling out of the blackness and into the golden glow, where they crouched, hissing. Garrett’s face was white as he stepped backwards. “We have to find way through.”

  “There’s so many,” Sophie breathed. A dozen white, skull-like heads bobbed as they examined their prey, and scratching noises from farther in the hallway told her they weren’t the only ones. In order for Garrett to fight them, he would have to drop Joseph—but that would anchor them to the one location and allow the corpses to encircle them. An idea hit her, and Sophie turned back to the stairwell. The flames had engulfed most of the railing, burning sections away and charring others. She found a post with live flames licking at its upper half, and pulled at its base. The wood was nearly hot enough to blister Sophie’s hands, but it came free from the bracket with a scraping, crunching noise and a shower of embers.

  “Keep behind me,” Sophie said, putting herself between Garrett and the dead. Her hands shook as she aimed the post ahead of herself. “They hate fire. As soon as there’s a gap, run.”

  “You’ll follow?”

  “Of course. Just get Joseph outside.”

  Garrett gave a small nod. Sophie moved a step closer to the cadavers, and they took that as an invitation to attack.

  A cluster of the monsters swarmed towards her, empty eye sockets wide and toothy jaws gaping. Sophie gasped and arced the burning post across them. It glanced off two of the bodies without catching, but flames fizzled into life on the third. Sophie stumbled backwards as the corpses hit her. There was nothing but noise, jostling, and snapping teeth for a moment, then shrieks split the air as the flames spread across the corpse. It tried to squirm away from the fire, and its companions clawed their way past it, unaware of the danger they were putting themselves in. Sophie stabbed at any that came close. Wails and hisses filled her ears as the flames spread across the cadavers and caught on the walls, as well.

  Amongst the fear and adrenaline, Sophie felt a rush of relief at seeing the smothering red-and-gold wallpaper shrivel and blacken. Underneath was dry wood. The fire wouldn’t take long to spread.

  Light coursed down the hallway as the flaming creatures crashed into each other in their struggles. Garrett took advantage of their disorientation and charged through them like a bull. Sophie ran after him, waving her makeshift weapon blindly.

  The noise was deafening. Flames burnt her arms as she pushed past the dead. The toxic, billowing black smoke smothered her and stung her face, so Sophie closed her eyes and held her free hand ahead of herself to feel for walls or blockades. She tried to follow Garrett’s footsteps, but there was so much pandemonium that she had to guess which direction they were leading her.

  Bony hands grabbed at her, knocking her to the ground. Sophie rolled onto her back and smacked one of the creatures away with the post before continuing to roll to get her feet under herself again. She hit a wall, unable to tell which direction she was supposed to face. When she opened her eyes, the black smoke reduced her visibility to almost nothing. Fire glowed to her left, so she turned right and continued running.

  The smoke gradually cleared, and Sophie, gasping and choking, finally reached a part of the house where she could open her eyes and inhale clean air. Garrett was nowhere in sight.

  She opened her mouth to call Garrett but thought better of it. Even if he was within hearing distance, calling would only attract more of the dead. The tip of her post had been reduced to embers. She didn’t think it would be enough to light any more corpses—at least not easily—but she was reluctant to drop her only weapon.

  Sophie turned on the spot, hoping she might recognise which section of the house she was in. To her eyes, it was identical to every other quarter. Even if she did stumble on a landmark such as the stairs or her room, it wouldn’t help her escape. She needed to find the red door, but had no context for where it was. She’d only ever found it when she was desperately lost or had Rose’s help.

  Rose. A horrible, prickling sensation raised the hairs over Sophie’s arms. She turned and inhaled sharply. Standing behind her, black hair a messy tumble about her shoulders and eyes so crazed that Sophie thought there might be almost nothing human left inside, stood Northwood’s greatest believer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: Black Night

  Rose’s lips twitched into a smile, but it was an insincere, reflexive expression. A glitter of something silver—a knife, Sophie guessed—hung loosely in her hand. “Are you lost, my dear?”

  Something about Rose’s voice was terribly wrong. Sophie thought the other woman might have been in shock—or she’d finally gone truly insane. She tightened her grip on the smoking post. “Did Joseph leave you a note, too?”

  “Joseph?” Rose spoke as though she didn’t know the name. Her dazed smile stretched wider, and her eyes roved over the hallway. “No. There’s a fire, did you know? I came to save the house.”

  Sophie didn’t speak, but she thought the house was a fair way past saving.

  “There’s something peculiar happening, though. This house has never caught fire before—not even when the chef drenched the floorboards in oil and lit them or when my great uncle went insane and stacked firewood around its perimeter. The house is resilient, you see. It never decays. It never breaks. So how is it that, not even an hour after I show you to the red door, my home is being destroyed?” The rolling eyes fixed on Sophie and were abruptly filled with both presence and fury. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done.”

  Rose lunged. Sophie dove to one side, but slicing pain shot up her arm as Rose’s
knife caught her. Sophie shrieked and scrambled backwards. The cut wasn’t deep, but it hurt.

  Completely dropping the genteel façade, Rose pivoted and lunged a second time. Animal fury twisted her face into something ugly and terrifying. She’d aimed the knife at Sophie’s neck, and Sophie had barely enough time to swing the post in defence.

  She wasn’t strong enough to knock Rose away, but the post grazed Rose’s hand and sent the knife skittering over the wooden floor. Rose landed on top of her, collapsing them both to the ground, and brought her nails across Sophie’s face, clawing with almost inhuman strength.

  Sophie thrashed, and her knee connected with Rose’s stomach. Rose grunted and curled over, and Sophie kicked her away. A dribble of hot blood ran over her nose from where Rose’s nails had scored her forehead, but Sophie was grateful she hadn’t lost an eye. She got to her feet and pressed her back against the wall for support, breathing hard. Rose remained crouched on the ground. Blood mixed with frothing saliva ran from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t seem to notice as her bloodshot eyes bored into Sophie.

  “You have no idea what you’ve wrought, child,” she hissed. “You have no concept of what ruin you’ve brought on our great family.”

  “Great family,” Sophie retorted. Her anger and fear made her speak recklessly. “There’s no great family here—not anymore. All I see is a family that’s decimated itself until the few survivors would greet death with open arms. You’re the only one who can’t understand how purely evil this house is.”

  “I’m the only one capable of understanding the privileges it bestows!” Rose bellowed. She threw herself forward, but Sophie was ready and swung the post with all of her strength.

  Rose stumbled and dropped to her knees. She raised her hand and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her lips. “You’ve failed in your scheme to destroy us, child. We grew from one man. Now, this baptism by fire allows us to start with a clean beginning—to purge the doubters and the underminers from our descendants. The Shadow Being will appreciate my faithfulness; the Shadow Being will love me for my loyalty. He will gift me with many children. Northwood will be rebuilt from its ashes.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened, and she took a step backwards. She’d caught sight of something large moving through the smoky, shadowed hallway. Rose, too obsessed with her thoughts, had no awareness of their companion until the vast, black creature hit the wall beside her. The shockwave travelled through Sophie’s bones and made her step away from it.

  The Grimlock was dying. Its dried skin flaked away in large slivers, and its lamp-like eyes were flickering like a torch on the verge of fading. They passed over Sophie without any signs of recognition. It was gasping, and ropes of frothy saliva dripped from its open maw.

  Rose stared at in shock, then a hand fluttered to her chest as she exhaled, “It’s you.” Her eyes widened first in wonder, then in adoration, and she crawled towards to the Grimlock with grovelling eagerness. “My lord, allow me to help you. Together we can still rebuild the Argenton family. Let us renew our ancient bargain.”

  The Grimlock swayed as its attention fixed on Rose. When it spoke, its voice had lost the previous, deep grating tones and sounded like dead leaves rattling together. “Ah, my dear Rose. I have not forgotten your loyalty. But your offer comes too late. The house is dead.” A cruel smile twisted its face. “But there is still one way you can serve me.”

  Anticipation lit Rose’s face, and her hands fluttered to touch the Grimlock’s feet. “Anything, my lord.”

  The Grimlock’s jaw stretched wide. Sophie turned away, too horrified to watch, as the teeth plunged into Rose’s chest and sliced through flesh and bone.

  Rose didn’t even have enough time to scream.

  The distant fire’s roar fought to be heard over the snapping, crunching, sucking noises of the Grimlock eating. Without hesitation, Sophie fled down the hallway, desperate to escape the black creature before it noticed her.

  The house was crumbling. Sophie turned onto a main hallway but had to retrace her steps as the floor ahead collapsed into a flaming pit. She had no idea which direction to take, or if she was heading towards danger or safety. The rising heat was unbearable, and the smoke choked her.

  Something cold brushed Sophie’s arm, and she gasped and jerked away from the sensation. She thought she could make out something faintly shimmering in the hallway. It looked like a heat mirage, but was gone a second later. Then the cold sensation returned to caress her other arm. Sophie turned, and cold sweat broke out across her body, despite the smothering heat. Then a voice whispered into her ear, “I’ll show you the way to the red door.”

  “What—” Sophie breathed, but part of the ceiling collapsed behind her before she could phrase her question. There’s no time. If it says it will take me to the red door, I’ll have to trust it. “Show me.”

  An icy, invisible hand took hers and pulled her forward. It was a faint, transient sensation, like a puff of wind, and Sophie felt as though she could lose it if she squeezed too hard or moved too quickly. But the sensation drew her down the hallway, towards a door, which creaked open before they reached it.

  They passed through the room and into the hallway on its other side then turned left. Sophie caught brief glimpses of more of the shimmering shapes—dozens, possibly even hundreds of them—shifting down the hallways and moving through the walls.

  Sophie didn’t dare speak it, but a suspicion was growing in the pit of her stomach. The corpses that littered the house were the physical representations of all who had died in Northwood. What if these faint, cold shapes were the spiritual remains? Flesh and mind had been torn asunder; the Grimlock used the bodies, bending them to its will, while the souls remained trapped and powerless inside Northwood’s walls.

  But the walls were burning, and the spirits were being freed… and one of them wanted to help.

  “We’re close,” the voice whispered. It was so faint, it almost felt as though it were spoken inside Sophie’s mind. “Don’t regret a single thing you did, miss. I don’t.”

  Sophie turned towards the voice, and the shimmer flickered into clarity for the briefest fraction of a second. Warm brown eyes and a broad smile revealed themselves, and Sophie clasped a hand over her mouth. “Marie.”

  “Don’t grieve for me,” the spirit said. “You’ve set me free. I’m ready to move on, now. I can talk for the first time in my life. The others say the afterlife is a glorious place. I think I’ll like it very much.”

  The hand pressed her own then faded. Sophie kept her fingers curled long after she knew she was alone. Tears stung her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. When she blinked them clear and looked up, she found herself facing the tall red door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: Morning

  The difference in the air was palpable when Sophie passed through the red door. She felt as though the atmosphere had cleared. Smoke still filled the hallways, but even that seemed less toxic than what had existed in the mirror house.

  Sophie ached all over, and she was dizzy from lack of air, but she made herself run. The house was crumbling too quickly for her to stop and catch her breath; parts of the floor were collapsing behind her, sending up clouds of sparks and ash.

  Strangely, though, the fire didn’t frighten Sophie. It struck her as wholesome and cleansing: it was scorching away a toxic scar and returning the earth to a natural, neutral state.

  Even though she was half-blinded by ash, gasping and coughing from the soot in her lungs, and so drained that her legs barely held her up, luck was on her side, and Sophie found her way to the stairs. Just like in the mirror house, they were half burnt away, but there was just enough intact railing for her to edge down one side until she reached the white-marble foyer.

  The front doors stood wide open, and Sophie staggered to them with a dazed smile. The sun was rising. It hadn’t yet breached the treetops, but the pink glow cast enough light for Sophie to see the grey-grass clearing. Dozens of figures huddled about the g
lade. The maids hung together in groups of twos and threes, sobbing quietly. The chef had collapsed to the ground and was chuckling to herself, and the butler stood watching the building burn with as much stately poise as he’d ever embodied.

  Sophie followed the stairs to the grass, glad to leave Northwood for the final time. A few of the closest maids gave her watery smiles. Sophie returned the gesture, surprised and glad that the staff had finally met her eyes. She moved through the crowd quickly, scanning the figures with increasing desperation, until she found the two people she wanted to see more than anyone else: Garrett and Joseph.

  Garrett had brought his nephew farther from the house than the staff had ventured and placed him near the lake. Neither man was moving; Joseph lay still, and Garrett knelt beside him, one hand pressed over his eyes.

  Sophie broke into a run as cold terror choked her. He can’t be gone. We didn’t go through all of that only to lose him.

  Joseph’s face was corpse-white, and she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. The fear combined with her exhaustion to drain her physically and mentally, and Sophie’s run slowed to a walk as she neared the men.

  Garrett looked up. Relief flashed over his face as he saw Sophie, and he held a hand towards her, beckoning her close. “You made it out—thank goodness. I thought you were behind me, but when I turned to check, you were gone. I tried to search for you, but the building was collapsing…” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m glad you’re safe. Joseph never would have forgiven me if you’d been lost to the house.”

  Those last words sent hot, desperate hope through Sophie. She stumbled towards the men and dropped to her knees. “Joseph—is he—”

  “Look for yourself.” Garrett pulled aside Joseph’s shredded shirt. To Sophie’s shock and overwhelming relief, there were no open wounds. Instead, rivers of white scar tissue ran across his torso like frozen lightning.

  Sophie stretched a shaking hand towards her husband. She ran her finger over one of the white marks in amazement, and Joseph’s muscles twitched under her touch.