Mark pointed at him. “Exactly.” He flipped around in his sketchbook again and set his drawing of the second floor down on top of the blowup of the original house plans. “You can see the missing rooms in the plans!” He sounded triumphant. “Instead of four bedrooms on either side of the stairs, as in the original plans, we have only three. The original also has an extra bathroom on either side of the staircase—but we have only the two, one on either side. The plans the Lewis family submitted were for a much larger house. Every floor, every room is significantly bigger in the originals, and you can see in the plans that these room configurations are different, too. Walls have been moved around, shapes are different. I haven’t begun measurements yet, but I suspect the difference is going to be really, really significant. This house,” he touched the plans again, “would make the one we’re standing in look like a farmer’s cottage.”
“How strange!” Emily said. She felt strange, too. Seeing the differences made her stomach knot up. Comparing the two was like seeing a reflection in a fun-house mirror—distortions so different as to make the real house appear like something alien, twisted. “Why would they do this?”
Mark shrugged. “It’s possible that the plans changed as they built. The family might have run out of money, or maybe they decided the upkeep on the larger house would be too expensive. It would take a great many servants to maintain a house as huge as the one in the plans. But why didn’t they submit the new ones? Why would anyone want to pay higher taxes?” He shook his head. “There’s no reason.”
“So you didn’t find the new plans at all?” she asked.
“No. Nothing else, and I’ve been through the whole archive. It’s possible they were filed in a different town, but I doubt it, especially since we found these here. And we almost didn’t locate these. Jim and I were about to give up, but the archivist remembered an old, locked trunk in a storage room in a different part of the library, and that’s where we came across all this.” He indicated the pile of things around the room.
“Too weird,” Jim said. “This whole place doesn’t make any sense.” He blushed a little. This was as near an admission as he’d made that something was off here, and he knew it. “I mean architecturally, of course.”
Emily and Mark shared a glance and then leaned back down to examine the original plans. After a while, she stood up, a shiver running down her spine. She didn’t like seeing the differences. Jim was right—something was distinctly wrong with Gnarled Hollow. Even aside from what had happened to her, the whole place was off, somehow, and seeing it on paper wasn’t helping her feel better about it.
Mark planned to start the inside measurements tomorrow and needed help, so Jim agreed to give him a couple of hours in the morning. The day after tomorrow, Mark planned to drive to Plattsburgh, which was several hours away, so he could spend the afternoon meeting with the professor he’d contacted at the university there.
Emily was only half listening to them, staring out the window. She wanted to figure out what she was feeling. She was chilled, yes, creeped out, certainly, but something else was there in her mind, something she’d felt before, after she was attacked in the bathroom. The realization, when it came, almost made her laugh. She was curious. Yes, she wanted to stay here and complete her work—she’d never get another chance like this. And yes, she wanted to be here with June—she’d also never have a chance with someone like her for the rest of her life. But mainly, she was also curious about this house. Why was it like this?
“Hey, Emily? Earth to Emily!” Jim said.
She looked at him, startled, and then laughed. “Sorry.”
“I was asking you where June is. I thought we all agreed to stick together in pairs.” He sneered as he spoke, as if he wanted her to know he thought the rule was stupid.
“She and Chris are swimming. Chris Wu—he got here earlier today.”
“I can’t believe she’d go out there again,” Jim said, “after what happened to you guys.”
Emily had no response, agreeing with him totally. She would never set foot in the pool house again, if she could help it.
“Chris is some kind of gardener, right?”
Emily explained what he’d told them earlier.
“Ah,” Mark said, grinning. “I’ve seen his work before. I think I’ve even read some of his research.”
“He’s interested in meeting you, too,” she said.
“Well, I’ll start on a welcome dinner, then,” Jim said. “It’s been a while since we all ate together in the evening.” He turned to leave and then swung back around, meeting her eyes.
“Say, Emily? I wanted to apologize.” He had to look away from her, and he colored a little. “About the other night. I was wrong. I know you didn’t do that to yourself. I knew it then, but I was being pigheaded.”
Again, she was startled. He’d apologized to her before, and now, like then, it seemed completely uncharacteristic. Maybe he was less of a dick than she’d assumed.
“It’s okay, Jim. I don’t blame you. It’s true what you said—there wasn’t really any proof.”
“Except the obvious,” he said, his eyes falling to her neck.
She was wearing a light, gossamer scarf today to hide the bruises. They’d faded a little, but they were still dark and mottled in places, yellow or green in others.
She shrugged. “You saw what you wanted to see. You thought what you wanted to think. It’s okay. I forgive you.”
His face still appeared troubled. “I don’t know what happened to you, Emily. I don’t even think I want to know what did that to you. And I sure as hell hope nothing else happens. I don’t believe in ghosts, or hauntings, or anything like that, but I do know that something’s wrong here.”
He left for the kitchen, and when she turned around, it was clear that Mark had overhead the entire exchange. He raised one eyebrow. “That was unexpected.”
“No kidding,” she said. She pointed at the other leather books. “So those are all the builder’s plans?”
Mark shook his head. “No. Some of them are tax statements, and some are building contracts. There’s more in the library, actually, but Jim and I couldn’t carry it all. I’ll start on what I’ve got here, and then I’ll go back and get the rest.” He paused. “Between this stuff and the Margot Lewis papers, we probably have enough material for a biography of the family and the house. I actually want to talk to everyone about doing something like that—maybe even together.”
“Gnarled Hollow and its Captives,” she said, grinning.
He laughed. “Something like that. Maybe we can discuss it at the end of summer, once we’ve all done some more research. I’m due back in New York in August, but we could still do a collaborative project when we’re separated.” He held up his hands. “Anyway—think about it. I’m just dropping the idea in your ear for now.”
Emily’s hopes rose and sank, and she shook her head. “Did Jim tell you? I mean, about me?”
Mark hesitated. “That you’ve been let go? Yes, and I’m sorry to hear it. That doesn’t mean you can’t still publish. And anyway, won’t that mean you can devote yourself to a project like this?”
She smiled. “That’s true. All I have is time now.”
The front door suddenly flew open and banged into the adjacent wall. She and Mark jumped, startled. The double doors into the foyer were closed, but Mark opened one of them, and she followed him. June was standing in the front doorway, her hair soaked and plastered to her body. She looked around wildly, and when she spotted them, she sagged with obvious relief.
“Oh, Jesus, thank God you’re here, Mark. Please, help me. I couldn’t move him. I had to leave him there!” Her hands went to her face, her fingers hooked into claws. For a moment, Emily was certain she would tear at her skin. “Oh, God, he’s still there! He’s all alone! Please help! Help me!”
Clearly attracted by the noise, Jim had rejoined them. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“There’s no time,” J
une said, almost screaming. “He’s in the pool house. I got him out of the water, but I couldn’t bring him here! He’s still there! Don’t you understand? I had to leave him in there with…with it!”
Mark met Emily’s eyes. “Stay here with her.” He looked at Jim. “Let’s go.”
“Run, goddamn it! He was breathing when I left him, I think he was anyway, but that thing was still in there! I could feel it!”
Both men ran from the room, and June watched them for a moment before crumpling onto the floor, sobbing and shaking. Emily immediately went to her, kneeling and pulling her into her arms. June turned and hugged her with such ferocity, they almost fell over.
“It’s okay, June,” she said, rubbing her back. “You’re all right now.”
June pulled back a little, her eyes still wild. “It was there! It was in the pool with us!” She choked on a sob, and Emily pulled her back into her arms. June cried on her shoulder, her body hitching as she tried to catch her breath. Her feet were caked with mud and leaves.
“What happened?” Emily asked.
June shook her head against Emily’s shoulder, still too upset to speak.
“It’s okay. Shhhhhh. I’ll take care of you. I won’t let it hurt you again.”
June snuffled against her, her face still tucked into Emily’s shoulder. They were still on the floor, June’s body twisted around hers. She continued to rub her back, trying to see out the front windows, hoping for the others to return.
She heard them before she saw them, and a moment later, they were spilling into the room, Jim and Mark holding Chris between them under his arms. Chris’s head was lolling around on his neck, his eyes closed—clearly unconscious. She and June rocketed to their feet, and June opened the double doors into the sitting room. Jim and Mark dragged Chris in there, set him down on the sofa, his head thrown back, and then collapsed into nearby chairs, breathing heavily.
June knelt down on the sofa next to Chris, peering at his face, and then looked back at Mark.
“Is he alive?” she whispered.
Mark was still panting from exertion. He nodded. “His breathing is regular, and his pulse is okay.”
“Oh, thank God,” June said, covering her face with her hands. She dropped them a moment later, staring at them with red-rimmed eyes. “I got him out of the water. I don’t know how. I couldn’t, at first. He was stuck on the bottom.”
“How do you mean?” Mark said, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his legs.
June took a long deep breath and let it out, shaking. “We were swimming. Everything was fine. We were goofing around a little. Racing, splashing, that kind of thing. Being stupid. Then, all of the sudden, he wasn’t there behind me.”
“What?” Jim asked. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Exactly that. One minute he was there. He was laughing! Right behind me! And then…it was like his laughter was cut off. I turned around and he was gone. I swear to God—he just disappeared.”
“How can that be?” Jim asked.
“I’m telling you what happened, goddamn it! He was in the pool with me, and then he wasn’t!” She was still clearly terrified, but little spots of red colored her cheeks now.
Jim held his hands up. “Okay—he disappeared. Jesus.”
She continued to glare at him, and then her face crumpled again. She shook her head to fight off the tears and went on. “At first, I thought he dove under. But I knew right away that couldn’t be true. It’s so bright in there, you can see the whole pool. But I dove down anyway to look. No one was there. I came back up and got out of the pool. I looked everywhere! I mean everywhere! I looked under seat cushions, for Christ’s sake. I looked outside. He was gone, I tell you. Like he never existed!” Her eyes grew distant, welling with tears.
Mark touched the top of her hand. “What happened next?”
She shook her head to focus again. “I looked in the steam room.”
Emily couldn’t help but gasp, and June turned her way. “That’s how desperate I was. But he wasn’t there, either. I was about to run back here, call the police, do something, but when I came out of the steam room, he was there, in the pool, at the bottom.”
“Jesus,” Jim said, his voice quiet. “And you’re sure he wasn’t there the whole time?”
“Of course I am! Christ, do you think I could have missed him? I’m telling you—he wasn’t there before!”
“Okay, okay, whatever. Damn, June.”
Her face was so dark and angry she seemed ready to start swinging. She met Emily’s eyes again, and her face relaxed a little. “When I saw him, I dove in immediately. I got down to him, but he was stuck. I pulled on his hand, but he wouldn’t move. Nothing was holding him down that I could see, and I had to go back up for air and try again. The second time, I ran my hands over his whole body, trying to figure out what was holding him there. That’s when I felt it.”
“What?” Emily asked, her voice so quiet, she wasn’t sure she was even audible.
June paled, her eyes darkening. “Hands. Arms. The hands were all over his legs, holding him down there. Dozens of them.” She shook her head. “I don’t really know what happened next. I was trying to pull them off him, but they wouldn’t move. I remember that I needed to go up for air again, but I couldn’t leave him there. Then, suddenly, the hands were gone, and he came up easily. I almost couldn’t get him out of the pool, but I did. I saw that he was breathing, and then I ran back here.”
Everyone was silent. The room was leaden with tension, all of them holding still as if waiting for something.
“Holy shit,” Jim said. His eyes were big, round. He pointed a shaky finger at Chris, and, following the direction it indicated, Emily saw dark red marks all over Chris’s legs. Already, some of them looked like handprints.
“Holy shit!” he said again, getting to his feet. “It’s real! Christ almighty, you’re telling the truth. This is happening! Holy shit!” He clutched at his hair, pulling on it in a way that would have been comically dramatic in any other circumstances. “My God! We have to get out of here! We need to leave—right now!”
“Jim, be quiet,” Mark said. His voice, though soft, cut through the room. It carried enough calm authority that Jim shut up as if turned off. Some of the hysteria in his face seemed to seep away. His body relaxed, and he dropped his hands to his side again.
Mark, however, wasn’t paying attention to him, and when Emily followed his gaze, she saw Chris stirring a little. All of them leaned toward him, and June, who was next to him on the sofa, took his hand. After a moment, he sat up and then groaned, his other hand going to his head in pain.
“Damn,” he said. He blinked a few times, coughed, and then seemed to realize that he was being watched. He shook his head as if to clear it and scooted up on the couch, looking around at all of them with relatively clear eyes.
“Hello,” he said, his face breaking into a handsome grin.
“Hi,” Mark said, laughing. “Welcome to Gnarled Hollow.”
Chapter Twelve
After June and Chris showered and put on regular clothes, everyone gathered to talk over cocktails. The others had taken the four seats around the coffee table, so Emily was forced to drag over one of the chairs from the card table. No one noticed her doing this or offered to help. Even now, they seemed caught up with each other, especially June with Chris. She was holding his hand again, and Chris accepted it as if it were his due. He was calm, or seemingly so, though that might have been partly to do with the three stiff drinks he’d already downed. He drinks heavily for someone that claims not to drink much, Emily thought. She saw him occasionally wince when he moved too fast, and, like she had earlier this week, he seemed to avoid looking at the marks on his legs.
Chris remembered nothing of his ordeal beyond being in the pool with June and then waking up in the house. She was partly relieved for him, but also strangely let down by his amnesia. He was the only person who had vanished and come back when someone was watching,
but he had no memory of his time away, wherever he’d gone. She was certain that, had he been awake the whole time, he would have experienced a shift in time, just as she had on the road and in the steam room.
As they sipped their drinks, Mark gave him a breakdown of the events of the last week. Chris listened, interested and polite, glancing at her once in a while during the story of the bathtub. She let Mark describe it, not offering any extra details. Mark might have thought she was too traumatized to say anything about it herself, as he never paused or suggested she jump in. June and Jim listened silently.
When Mark finished, Chris let out a long, low whistle. “Wow. An honest-to-god haunted house. I heard rumors at some of the places I’ve worked, but I’ve never actually experienced or seen anything myself. Crazy.”
She and the others looked at each other. Despite what had happened, she was strangely uncomfortable calling Gnarled Hollow a haunted house, and she could tell the others were, too.
Seeing their faces, Chris laughed. “Well, how else do you explain it? Are you honestly telling me you don’t think this house is haunted?”
“That’s just it, Chris,” Mark said after a pause. “None of us know what it is. ‘Haunted’ seems to suggest a presence, a being of some kind.”
“What do you call this?” Chris said, indicating the marks on his legs. He pointed at her. “Or what happened to Emily? And June felt the hands on me, too.”
“Exactly,” Emily said. It was the first thing she’d said in a while, and everyone seemed surprised to hear her voice. “It’s hands and arms without a body!” She shuddered.
June paled. “I made the mistake of trying to find the body attached to one of the arms, and nothing was there—nothing at all. I felt an arm that went on and on. And they don’t feel like hands or arms—the skin is wrong somehow. They’re hands, but they’re not.”
“Okaaay…So what about the woman in the window?” Chris said. “Isn’t that a classic ghost? There one minute, gone the next?”
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