by Amy Cross
***
“What is it?” I shout, finally catching up to the others as they hurry through the door in the corner of the pantry, heading through to the colder part of the house. “What's wrong?”
“Stay down here,” Dad says, clearly panicking as he races up the stairs.
“What's wrong?” I ask again, as the scream continues. After a moment, I realize I can see Mum, Dad and Aunt Emily, which means the only person who's missing is... “Nathan?” I whisper, before starting to run up after them. “Where's Nathan? What's wrong with him?”
“I think he's through here!” Dad yells, hurrying along one of the corridors that I explored last night.
“What's wrong with him?” I ask, but still no-one explains anything to me. I trail along behind the adults, and all the while my brother continues to scream in the distance. I honestly can't imagine what might be wrong with him, but I figure he must have fallen and hurt himself somehow. Slipping past Aunt Emily, who seems unable to run very fast, I catch up to Mum and Dad just as they reach the next junction.
“Where's it coming from?” Dad asks breathlessly.
“What the fuck is that little shit doing now?” Mum stammers, taking another drag from her cigarette.
“This way!” I tell them, pushing past and hurrying along the next corridor. I'm certain Nathan's scream is coming from up ahead, and as I take a couple more turns I realize that he seems to be in the little dead-end room that I found last night. When I get there, however, I can't see any sign of him, although the scream seems closer than ever.
Finally, I turn and look toward the locked door, and I realize he seems to be on the other side.
“Nathan?” I whisper, taking a step closer. “How did you -”
“Nathan!” Dad yells, rushing past me so fast that he almost knocks me off my feet.
Steadying myself, I watch as he tries to get the door open.
“Oh fuck,” Mum mutters as she reaches me. “Em, where's the fucking key?”
“Where is he?” Aunt Emily stammers. “Where -”
“Where's the fucking key, you daft old bitch?” Mum shouts, grabbing Aunt Emily by the shoulders and slamming her into the wall. “My fucking son is in there, you idiot! Where's the key? I know you have it!”
Reaching up with trembling hands, Aunt Emily starts removing a key from a chain around her neck.
Pushing her hands aside, Mum grabs the chain and snaps it loose, quickly slipping the key off.
“I told you this was a bad idea!” she snaps to Aunt Emily, before hurrying over and shoving Dad away from the door. “If he's hurt...”
I watch in horror as Mum struggles to get the key into the lock, but finally she's able to get it turned and the door clicks open. Stepping forward, I see another dull, empty corridor on the other side, although Nathan's scream is much louder now. Whatever he's doing in there, he sounds like he's in pain.
“Wait here,” Dad says, stepping in front of me and blocking my way as Mum heads through to find my brother.
“I want to help!” I tell him. I try to slip past, only for him to grab my arm and hold me in place.
“Your mother has it all under control,” Dad replies, gripping my arm tight. “Just wait and everything will be okay. You're not allowed in there, Becky.”
“Why not?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Just stop asking questions,” he continues. “Everything's going to be fine, I promise.”
“Oh God,” Aunt Emily sobs, stepping toward the open door. “She won't hurt him, I know she won't.”
“Let Barbara do it,” Dad says, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Emily. It might be for the best.” He sighs. “I knew this visit was a mistake. I told Barbara, but she wouldn't listen. Sometimes I think she doesn't give a damn what I think about anything.”
Suddenly Nathan's scream ends, and I realize I can hear footsteps at the far end of the corridor. I step around Dad and see Mum hurrying this way with Nathan in her arms. He's red-faced and sobbing, and she quickly carries him past and takes him along the corridor. The sound of his heaving moans is shocking, almost as if something has really dug deep into my brother's soul and started tearing him apart.
What's more terrifying, however, is the look in Mum's eyes. They seem almost blank, as if she's seen something horrific.
“Is Nathan okay?” I call after her, still trying not to panic even though my brother is wailing with fear. “What happened?”
“This is great,” Dad mutters, hurrying after Mum as Aunt Emily turns and watches them go.
I wait for a moment, before hearing a faint scratching sound over my shoulder. Turning, I look through the now-open door and see the next corridor stretching into the distance. The corridor doesn't look any different to the others I've explored so far, but that only makes me even more curious about the fact that the door was kept locked. I guess it might have been an accident, and maybe Nathan simply found another route into that part of the house, but at the same time I can't help thinking that the adults seem to be hiding something. Even Aunt Emily seems shaken to her core as she stands over on the far side of the room, listening to the sound of Nathan's sobs getting further and further away.
And that look in Mum's eyes was new.
I've never seen her life that before.
I have to find out what happened to Nathan, so I step over to the doorway, determined to -
“I don't think that's a good idea,” Aunt Emily says suddenly, slamming the door shut and quickly turning the key. “You don't want to disobey your mother, do you?”
“But -”
“Come on,” she adds, putting a hand around my shoulder and steering me away from the door, back toward the corridor. “Nothing's wrong, Rebecca. I'm sure your brother just overreacted to something silly.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I don't remember,” Nathan replies, furrowing his brow as he tries to push me away from the side of his bed. “Leave me alone, Becky, I want to sleep!”
“You must remember,” I continue, convinced that he's just trying to be brave. “Or did Mum and Dad tell you not to talk to me? It's okay if you're scared, I just -”
“I'm not scared!” he says firmly. “I...”
He pauses, and in that instant I can tell he's not faking anything. Whatever happened to him a couple of hours ago, he's genuinely scared.
“I don't remember,” he stammers again, close to tears. “I went exploring, and then suddenly I was screaming and I was out again, and Mummy was carrying me away. I must've just fallen over or something like that.”
“No, you saw something,” I reply, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Think harder, Nathan. The way you were yelling, it was clearly more than just a spooky noise. What did you really see in the locked part of the house?”
I wait, but he seems to scared to say a word.
“Is there someone there?” I ask.
“Rebecca...”
“Maybe Aunt Emily keeps someone locked up in one of the rooms,” I continue. “I know she seems nice, but she might have...” I pause, trying to think of an explanation. “She might have some kind of prisoner here. Do you remember when we were exploring and we found that table, and it said something about the prisoner of Auercliff? What if there was more to it? What if there really is someone here and -”
“Aunt Emily would never do that,” he replies, interrupting me. “She's too nice.”
“But -”
“And you said it was a joke!”
“That was then,” I reply, “and this is now. Now we've heard noises, now we know there really might be someone locked away somewhere!”
“That's like something from a fairytale,” he points out.
“I know, but...”
My voice trails off as I realize that he's right. Aunt Emily might be a little funny sometimes, but there's no way she'd keep someone as a prisoner. The whole thing just seems so hopelessly dramatic. At the same time, I don't believe for one second that
Nathan didn't see someone, so I guess the most likely answer is that there's a ghost.
“I'm tired,” he tells me after a moment. “I really don't remember what happened, Becky, but I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let me go to sleep.”
“You'll remember eventually,” I reply, getting to my feet and stepping back from the bed, “and when you do, you have to tell me. Deal?”
He pauses, before finally we shake hands.
Heading out of the room, I make my way along the corridor and then down the stairs, past all the portraits that are hanging on the wall. By the time I get down to the hallway, I can hear hushed voices talking in the distance, and I immediately realize that Mum and Aunt Emily are talking about something in the kitchen. I've lost track of how often I catch them having these secret little discussions, and I'm starting to think that they might be hiding something.
Stepping over to the doorway, I'm just in time to hear Mum talking angrily, almost as if she's trying to threaten Aunt Emily.
“She shouldn't be out!” she hisses. “I told you over the phone, Emily! For fuck's sake, that was the one condition I gave you before I agreed to bring my family here this weekend! You promised!”
“And I kept that promise,” Aunt Emily replies. “Esmerelda stayed in her side, and I made sure she won't make a noise!”
Mum says something angry in return, although I can't quite make out her words. Keen to hear more, and to work out who they're referring to, I creep closer to the doorway.
Suddenly Mum steps out right in front of me, and she grabs my shoulder before I can turn and run.
“I thought someone was eavesdropping!” she says firmly. “This isn't the first time, is it?”
“I didn't hear anything!” I stammer. “I swear, I was just -”
“Don't even bother lying to me,” she replies, her voice filled with disgust. “I've had just about enough of you today, young lady. Go outside and play.”
“But -”
“Out!” she shouts, shoving me toward the front door. “I don't trust you to be in the house right now! I want you out there in the garden!”
“Who's Esmerelda?” I ask.
She seems frozen for a moment, and I can see fear in her eyes. A moment later, Aunt Emily comes to the doorway, and she too seems upset.
“Who's Esmerelda?” I ask again, looking first at Mum and then at my aunt. “Does she live here? Are you hiding someone from us?”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Mum replies, but she sounds much more subdued than a moment ago. “Becky, I won't tell you again. Go and play in the garden.”
“Or?”
She steps closer. “I beg your pardon?”
“What if I don't want to play outside?” I ask, standing my ground even as she tries staring me down. I'm scared, but I can't let that show.
“Don't disobey me, young lady,” she replies. “Outside! Now!”
“I don't -”
Before I can finish, she slaps me on the side of the face.
Startled, I take a step back.
“Barbara, no!” Aunt Emily gasps, her eyes widening with horror.
“Go outside!” Mum says firmly, glaring at me with pure anger. “This instant!”
“I hate you!” I shout, with tears running down my cheeks. “And I wish Aunt Emily was my mother!”
With that, I turn and hurry out the front door, not daring to stop and see how Mum reacts. I hope she's upset, though. In fact, as I run out across the sunlit lawn and make my way toward the trees, I hope she's really sorry for being so mean to me. I can't believe she slapped me like that, but I'll make her sorry.
Stopping suddenly, I find that I've run almost all the way to the old mausoleum. And as I stare ahead, I realize with a sudden sense of fear that the heavy metal door has been left hanging wide open.
Part Three
Emily - 1989
Chapter Eighteen
“Is anybody there? If you can hear us, please give us a sign. We're here to help you.”
Having said the words, I fall silent for a moment. Looking past the flickering candles that light the dining table, I see that Daniel has the usual rather blank, passive look in his eyes, as if he's simply waiting to see how the rest of us react. After a moment I turn to Barbara, and her withering condemnation of the entire endeavor is immediately apparent. I can actually feel her negative energy emanating across the room.
“Well, Emily?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Have the ghouls and ghosties said anything yet?”
“We have to be patient,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes.
“The spirits have to be teased out,” I continue, forcing myself to remain calm. “They won't come if they sense resistance or doubt.”
“Says who?”
“Barb, please -”
“No,” she continues, “I'm serious, Emily. How do you know how this all works? Is there some kind of manual about how to contact the dead?”
“It just takes patience,” I tell her, fully aware that she's trying to rile me on purpose. “Negative energy is very unhelpful.”
“Then I'm going to need several more G&Ts,” Barbara mutters, rolling her eyes. “My energy's about as negative as it gets right now.”
“Everyone re-focus,” I tell them both, looking down at the Ouija board. “Put your hands back on the planchette. That includes you, Barb.”
“Maybe you two should do this without me,” Barbara replies. “I can entertain myself in the library just fine. That's where the booze is.”
“Hands on the planchette,” I say firmly.
Placing my right hand on the wooden planchette, I wait for them to do the same. Daniel, of course, is holding back, preferring to wait and see what Barbara does first. My sister is making her displeasure very much known, but finally she places a well-manicured, red-nailed hand on the very edge of the planchette, and Daniel quickly copies her move.
I take a few seconds to settle my soul, and to return my energy to a more calming, accepting state that should appeal to visitors from the next world.
“Are there any spirits here at Auercliff?” I ask, looking past the others and watching the darkness at the far end of the room. “Come to us. We are open and ready to receive your message.”
Barbara lets out a sigh.
“We want to commune with you,” I continue, ignoring her. Looking up, I see the gloomy, unlit chandelier high above the table. “We mean you no harm. We only -”
Suddenly the planchette moves, grinding across the board until it indicates the word 'No' in one corner of the board. I immediately glance at the others, before looking back down at the board.
Before I can say anything, a baby starts crying in one of the far-off rooms.
“Oh fuck,” Barbara says, putting her head in her hands. A moment later, she starts stamping her feet on the carpet in a moment of sheer frustration. “Can't the little prick stop bawling for five minutes?”
“You shouldn't say things like that,” I tell her.
“I know, but -”
Suddenly the lights flicker to life above the table. Turning, I'm shocked to see that Martin is not only back from the club early, but that he's standing in the doorway with an expression of grave disapproval in his eyes.
“Darling,” I stammer, “I can explain, we -”
“For God's sake!” he mutters, turning and storming away. “Not this again!”
“Trouble in paradise?” Barbara says with a smile, getting to her feet. “I told you this was a mistake, Em, but you just wouldn't listen.” She flinches as her daughter's cries get louder in the distance. “Alright, Rebecca,” she mutters, “Mummy's coming, you little cow.”
***
“I specifically told you that I don't want this nonsense in my house!” Martin says firmly, as he pours himself a glass of whiskey. “I heard you out, Emily, and I gave your side of the argument due consideration, but I thought we'd agreed that you wouldn't start dabbling in this sort of thing! It's just not right!�
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“I know,” I reply, hurrying over to him, “but -”
“But nothing!” he snaps, turning to me. For the first time since our marriage, he seems truly, genuinely furious. “You know how I feel about it all!” he continues. “I don't want people talking about ghosts in my house, much less playing stupid games designed to...” He sighs. “What's the point? I've told you this a thousand times, and evidently you don't listen! I might as well talk to the wind.”
“I thought you'd be out until much later,” I continue, putting a hand on his elbow, only for him to pull away. “Please, Martin, I never thought any harm would come of it. I thought we'd be finished long before you got home, and you'd never have to know!”
“And that'd make it alright, would it?” he asks, taking a sip of whiskey. “I had no idea you found it so easy to lie to me!”
“I just wanted to explore the possibilities,” I tell him, close to tears. “You know how I feel about Auercliff, darling. I see things differently to you, and I want to know if what I see and hear is -”
“You don't see or hear anything!” he snaps. “Do you?”
I open my mouth to argue with him, before realizing that there's no point.
“You haven't seen a goddamn thing,” he continues, “and you haven't heard anything either!”
“I sense a presence sometimes,” I reply, “and -”
“That doesn't mean a goddamn thing, and you know it!”
“I think the house has disturbed energy,” I explain, holding back more tears, “and I want to put that right. Speaking to the spirits is the first step.”
“Listen to yourself,” he mutters. “You sound utterly crazy.”
Again, words fail me, and this time I turn away, feeling as if I might burst into tears at any moment.
“This is my family home,” Martin says firmly, after a moment's silence. “The people who lived here were my forebears. My parents, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents and their parents, and their parents too, going back hundreds of years. They lived in this house, in these rooms, and now they're resting out there in the mausoleum just a few hundred meters from our front door. Do you really think I want to hear that relatives of mine, people I might actually have met when I was a boy, are supposedly haunting Auercliff?”