by Amy Hopkins
Amelia groaned. “When I asked him to come to yoga with me, I thought he’d say no. I never expected it to make him this…precious.”
“I’m just doing what I need to support me lass, lass.” Red grinned. “If you want me to follow Penny into the bowels of the creepy, haunted house, I will. Just remember, if an evil splinter rips a hole in me duds and you see my crack, it’s not my fault.”
“Why did I ever agree to bring him?” Penny asked Amelia.
Amelia shrugged. “Beats me, I would have left him at home. In fact, I’d take a dead goldfish over him.” Red grunted but she ignored it. “Anyway, you’re stuck with him now, so are we going in?”
The house sat at the approximate location of sixty-six Robinson road. It was still quite a bit short of the listed address they wanted, but it was as close as they were going to get.
“Let’s do it.” Penny tugged the strap of her backpack, adjusting the weight. She’d already taken out a flashlight and her handgun, and clipped some specialty magazines to her belt—silver bullets, exploding holy water cartridges, and one containing a single drop of eitr, a substance from Norse mythology strong enough to kill a god. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t work on much else.
It felt strange to be missing her other bag, but Boots had given her a brisk hiss and shoved Penny toward the dorm room door before diving into a pile of blankets. It’s not like we’re joined at the hip, Penny reassured herself. She probably just wants to nap.
Penny squeezed through the loosely chained gates, holding the gap open when she was through so Amelia and Red could follow. She waited patiently as Amelia helped Red untangle a thread of polyester that caught on a loose wire, threatening to unravel the flimsy fabric covering his backside.
“Sorry,” Red grumbled.
“It’s fine,” Penny assured him, grabbing his arm. “I really am glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Amelia affirmed, kissing his cheek. “If nothing else, the sight of your holey yoga pants will scare off any vampires.”
Snorting, Red forged ahead, traipsing up the long gravel drive toward the house.
Amelia pulled back as they reached the rotting porch, tugging Penny and Red behind the empty husk of a dead tree trunk. “We need to go over some rules,” she told them.
“Rules?” Red asked. “Shoot the bad guys, not ourselves. Find Trevor, and run.”
“We don’t know if this is even the right place,” Amelia insisted. “Look, this dump has all the trappings of a haunted house. Or a possessed one. Or…remember that mansion that popped up in New York with the dolls on a murder rampage?”
Penny shook her head. “How the hell did I miss that one?”
Brushing it off, Amelia continued. “What I’m saying is, we could be walking into anything. We have to promise to stick together in there, no matter what. No going after creepy noises in the basement or following sweet little girls down random hallways. Got it?”
“Got it.” Red saluted her. “But when did you become an expert on this sort of thing?”
Amelia flicked her hair and gave him a cheeky smirk. “I started a blog as part of my course. It’s an offshoot from my local witch-hunting site. ‘The Haunting: Where to find the best haunted houses and how to survive them.’ It’s getting quite popular.”
“Really?” Penny knew Amelia had always been into the online blogging thing. She had started fashion blogs, study blogs, and one, apparently, chronicling the journey of sharing a dorm room with an Aussie girl and a snake. She hadn’t mentioned this new venture, though.
“Really. Now, any questions?” Amelia waited, then nodded after a moment of silence. “Let’s go.”
The front door had swollen with age. Red leaned against it but shook his head. “I can give it a shove, but it’ll be noisy. Milly?”
Amelia had already thrown a leg through a nearby window that was missing its glass. “Quiet as mice, guys.”
Penny slipped through next, and the two girls each grabbed one of Red’s arms as he awkwardly stuffed his tall frame through the small opening. One of his feet caught the windowsill on the way through, but Penny hauled him up before he thudded on the floorboards.
Panting, Red found his balance and gave her a thumbs-up before slipping a flashlight from his belt. He shone the narrow beam around the room.
The long sitting room might have been beautiful once. Heavy wooden chairs sat by boarded-up windows, coated in thick layers of dust. A side table held a tarnished silver tea set, and a half-complete tapestry lay on the floor, loose threads still attached to a rusted needle.
“This place must be full of bugs,” Amelia whispered. She pointed at a moth-eaten cushion. “Gods, I hope we don’t find any spiders in here.”
Penny chuckled lightly. “Mate, the spiders here have nothing on the ones back home. If we find any, just leave them to me.”
“Aye, but what if it’s an eight-foot-tall arachnid with a million babies, that eats human heads for breakfast?” Red asked. Amelia slapped him in the chest and he gasped. “Well, it might happen!”
“Asshole.” Amelia nodded to the door on the other side of the room. “Just don’t touch anything, okay?”
Murmuring agreement, Penny placed a hand on the old brass knob. It turned easily and the door swung open, as smooth as if it had been oiled yesterday.
“Which way?” Penny asked. The narrow corridor ahead led to a staircase. Two closed doors lined the left side, and a niche behind the stairs glowed with a soft light.
“If it’s a haunted house, the bogeyman will be in the attic or basement, most likely.” Amelia gestured to the nearest door. “But we’re hoping it’s something else, right? We need to be thorough.”
The door, however, was locked. Penny eyed it, then pulled her gun out and attached the silencer. “Stand back.”
“Don’t shoot it!” Red snapped. “You know that doesn’t work in real life!”
Kneeling, Penny gave him a withering glare. “I’m picking the lock, you numpty. The gun is for whatever is on the other side.” She set it on the floor, safety engaged, and drew a lock-picking set from her belt. A minute later, she put the set away, picked up her gun, and pointed it at the door. “Careful,” she whispered.
The brass knob turned smoothly. This door wasn’t as quiet as the previous one. It squeaked open loudly, thudding to a stop only halfway. “It looks like it’s been tossed,” Red remarked. His light was trained on the floor, where piles of moldering books were strewn in a pile.
“Uh-huh.” Penny edged around the door to see why it wouldn’t open properly. She kicked away a fallen chair and pushed the door back, latching it open. “Or a fight broke out.”
Dust plumed as Amelia pulled the long, heavy curtains back to reveal ancient, crackling oil paintings lined with cobwebs. “Ugh. I told you there would be spiders.”
Penny scanned the room. “That chair is broken.” She pointed to the one that had blocked the door. “Where is its missing leg? And whatever tipped over that desk must be strong.”
The ornate desk had landed crookedly, one corner propped up by an old book wedged underneath. Red walked over and gripped the bottom edge with his fingers. He grunted, then let go. “It’s a heavy bastard, all right. Can I ask you ladies for some assistance?”
Penny reluctantly tucked her weapon back into her belt. Between them, they managed to tip the desk back up, though one drawer clattered to the floor in the process. “So much for being quiet,” Penny grumbled. “Why are we tidying up this mess, exactly?”
Red pointed at the drawer that had dislodged. “Clues.” He picked up some papers that had fallen out and held them up to the light from the windows. “Huh. Just some old letters. Too old to be our goons.”
He grabbed the now-empty drawer and slid it into the desk. Then, frowning, he slid it back out. He knocked on the bottom.
“Hidden compartment?” Amelia asked.
“Aye.” Red set it on top of the desk and pulled out a knife. He slid it carefully into the drawer
base.
A page fluttered in the breeze.
Hold up. Penny turned to look for the source. There is no breeze.
A book flew across the room, aimed at Red’s back. It thudded between his shoulder blades, knocking him toward the desk. “Ow! Who bloody threw that?”
“Ghosts!” Penny yelled as she dropped into a defensive stance. “Get that thing open so we can get out of here!” A second book launched into the air, and she knocked it off its path with a well-placed kick. The book fell to the ground, inanimate.
A third book rustled. Penny hit this one with the flat of her hand, taking another one out with her foot seconds later. Grabbing the chair, Penny yelled to Amelia. “Get behind the desk!”
The projectile books were all coming from one corner of the room. Backhanding one, Penny lunged with the broken chair. The momentary distraction let a small hardback past, and Red yelped as it slammed into the back of his head. “Pointy little prick!”
Swinging the chair, Penny took out two more, eyeing a third that hung suspended in midair. “Go on,” she hissed at it. “Try me.”
It did. The book plunged forward, swooping left to avoid the chair back Penny lifted as a shield. It wasn’t quick enough to avoid the kick that followed, though.
“Take that, poltergeist prick.” Penny regretted her words when twenty books slowly lifted into the air. “Um, Red? You’re not done, are you? Because—”
“Got it!” Red hollered.
“Duck!” Penny yelled. The books flew at them, and Penny tossed the chair blindly into their path as she dove to the side. Amelia squealed and Red grunted as they clattered to the ground.
“Run!” Red yelled.
A large atlas slammed into the door, flinging it shut. The door bounced back, a tiny, leather-bound novel caught in the jam. Penny slipped through first and wedged her body between the door and its frame to hold their exit open.
Red dove under Penny’s arms as Amelia wielded a lump of wood like a baseball bat. She slammed one book, then another, edging back toward the door.
“You show ‘em, princess!” Red yelled.
Amelia roared as she hit another missile, ricocheting it to take out three others that had lifted off the floor. She dove for Penny, who yanked her out of the room moments before the door slammed closed. A rumbling clatter sounded on the other side as books pelted into it.
Then, silence.
“That was a blast,” Amelia commented, panting. “I used to hate softball as a kid, but then I never thought it’d come in handy like that.”
“You saved my ass!” Red kissed her. “Thanks, love.”
Amelia hugged him. “Did you get what you were after?”
Red held up the proceeds of his search. He passed three sheets of paper to Penny and dangled a long gold chain with a black stone pendant in front of Amelia. “Is that suitably creepy, love?”
Amelia reached out, then pulled back. “Yeah. We probably don’t want to touch that.”
Red slipped the prize into a plastic bag and tucked it away. “What does the letter say?”
Penny pressed the paper against the wall while Red pointed his flashlight at it. Penny skimmed the first page.
Dear Mister Perkins,
I trust this letter finds you well. Now, enough of this nonsense. Release my son from your custody and be done with it. You damn well know he didn’t kill Jonas Weatherbee, and God help you if you see an innocent man hang for another’s crimes.
Yours, Anna Marple.
A signature scrawled at the bottom ended the letter. When Red and Amelia nodded, she slid it away to read the next one.
Mister Perkins,
You did not respond to my letter. Please, my Richard is innocent. You cannot let him hang for this crime that he did not commit.
Now I know I am not the most well-regarded woman in town. I know you’ve heard those rumors, but that’s all they are. I attend church on a Sunday and have a respectable income of twelve dollars a week cleaning for Mister Jones. I’m no witch, Mister Perkins, and you’d best not let my son take the burden of those accusations against me.
Please, Mister Perkins, do the right thing. The pastor says that God keeps his children safe, and I pray it is true. I find it hard to keep that faith when my boy, my Richard, is sentenced to death.
This necklace is the only thing of value I have. Take it. Use it as your security if you wish, but save my boy.
Sincerely,
Anna Marple.
“Ouch.” Penny could almost feel the animosity bleeding from the jagged letters beneath her fingers. “That poor woman, she sounds so desperate. I wonder if he really was innocent?”
The third letter was short. A couple of hastily scrawled lines, smudged in places and marred by creases in the paper as if it had been crumpled, then smoothed.
Rot in hell, Perkins. You killed my son and took everything from me. By the unholy powers I possess, I will see your town burned to the ground.
“This house is definitely haunted,” Red remarked. “I can feel it in me jellies.”
“Not necessarily,” Amelia murmured.
Red scoffed. “What, you think it’s just a boring old house full of flying books?”
Amelia pointed at the letters. “If Anna really was a witch, maybe she’s the entity that crossed the Veil.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Penny glanced back at the silent room. “Ghosts and a vengeful witch.”
“But no clandestine organizations that kidnap twenty-year-old geeks who like video games,” Red pointed out.
“Unless it’s all a front,” Penny shot back.
“You know,” Amelia suggested. “It might be a trap. What if the spooks know about the house and gave this address to lure in idiots like us? Maybe they know something malevolent is here, and they think it’ll take out anyone who comes looking for them.”
The thought made Penny’s gut churn. “Amelia, a few flying books wouldn’t do much to stop anyone. Do you think…”
“Something worse is around the corner?” Red suggested. “Let’s make like a genius and get the hell out of this weird house before we die.”
Nodding, Penny headed back across the hallway to the sitting room. She opened the door. Then, she stepped back.
Amelia stepped on her heels. “Why’d you stop?”
“I must have opened the wrong door.” Penny stepped back, confused. This was the only door on this side of the hallway.
“What?” Red laughed. “Don’t be daft, Penny. This is the…” he paused as he realized the layout had changed. “Oh. Where did the windows go?”
The sitting room was exactly as they had left it, right down to the discarded tapestry and ancient tea set. The room, however, was windowless.
“That’s not even possible,” Penny insisted. “Is it?”
“Guess we’re stuck here until the end,” Amelia moaned.
“The end?” Penny gripped the doorframe. “You mean until we die?”
“No. Well, no.” Amelia plastered a false smile on. “Just until we meet the evil entity trapping us here and defeat it.”
“Or die trying.” Red walked over to the wall across from them and punched the blank spot that should have held a window. A chunk of plaster fell away to reveal red bricks. “That’s what you really mean to say, isn’t it?”
Amelia’s smile faltered. “Look, statistically, people are really unlikely to die in a haunted house,” she insisted.
She’s lying through her teeth. “How do those statistics hold up once you’re already in a haunted house?” Penny asked.
Smile gone, Amelia glared at her. “Fine. We’re basically screwed. We have about a twelve percent chance of surviving.”
“Oh.” Penny checked her belt, reloaded her gun—since the holy water had a decent chance of being helpful here—and opened the sitting-room door. “Twelve percent isn’t that bad. I thought it’d be a lot worse, actually.”
“Seriously?” Red stared at her, mouth hanging open.
Penny
gestured with her gun. “How many people statistically enter a haunted house after three semesters at a school that trains you to deal with shit like this? And how many of those are armed to the teeth with holy water, salt, and flamethrowers?”
“Not many, I bet.” Amelia grinned and drew a small cross from her own pack. “Not to mention, we’re really smart, and we know stuff. Like, if there’s an actual Salem-era witch involved in this mess, we should go the religious combat route. We good?”
Red grumbled but agreed. “But I’m gonna point out there’s something else in common here.” He held up a hand, raising a finger with each point. “Anna Marple is a woman.” Two more fingers. “And Penny and Amelia? Both girls. You two dragged me into this.” He threw his hands up. “Women are trouble!”
Chapter Fifteen
Back in the hallway, Penny cracked open the door to the next room. Dust covered the floor, and an old high-backed chair sat in the corner. The emptiness sent a shiver across her skin. “Nothing here.” She backed out and closed the door behind her. “Where to next? The eerie glow of the afterlife, or the stairway to death?”
“Not funny,” Red grumbled. “I just want to take the fastest path out of this place.”
“Impossible.” Amelia headed toward the niche behind the stairs. “This kind of event is usually linked to a set sequence. Like the letters. We had to discover those first, it’s a clue to what’s inside. Even if you skip something important, it’ll come back round to get you.”
“You know that’s not at all reassuring, right?” Red loaded his holy water cartridge into his gun and holstered it. He replaced it with a small flamethrower, bouncing it in his palm.
“Don’t use that here!” Penny snatched it out of his hand. “This whole place will go up in flames, with us in it!”
Crestfallen, Red accepted the flamethrower back from Penny and put it away. “Fine. But I’m burning this hellhole to the ground when we leave. I’ve got bruises all over me back, and we’re not done yet.”