Emma looked at his arm and the smile on his face and felt herself blush. Did he think? “This is not a date,” she said. “I’m just desperate, I need your help. You must understand this is not a date.”
Brent flashed a large injured smile. “That’s the story of my life, no woman will have me unless she is desperate.”
Emma could not help but laugh.
This time Brent drove first and Emma followed him back to the house. It was still daylight, and the place looked a little spooky. Yet, much of what she thought, much of what she had read suddenly seemed so foolish. Then she swallowed, and her injured throat reminded her just how real it really was.
Brent opened her car door and bowed to let her out. Emma found herself laughing again and yet the old fear was still there. It was wrong to trust a man, any man. That way only led to pain.
“Come on, let's go inside,” Brent said. “Then I want you to stay in the kitchen while I search through the house.”
Emma nodded and followed him as he approached the house. It was always cold under the trees, and she shivered slightly as they walked down the moss covered path. When they reached the house, she looked at the sign. It was still askew and didn’t look quite right. She reached out to touch it, and as she did, it moved beneath her fingers. Taking hold with both hands, she pulled it up until eventually, it came off the wall. Underneath was a stone. Carved into it were two words.
The Cage.
Chapter 10
Brent guided her into the house, he could see that she was shaken up and he understood. Something about the house had disturbed her, and he felt it too, he wanted to know what it was. As she sat down at the table and he put on the kettle, he decided he was going to do something. He was going to research the house, and he would find out what the problem was. His logical mind revolted against this, but maybe somebody had been here before. It was strange that he didn't like this place, that it gave him the creeps, but somehow, he knew that something about it was not right
"You drink this coffee, I made it nice and strong. I'm gonna have a quick look around in here, outside, and then check upstairs. You just stay here and relax."
"I can't do that," Emma said. "I just feel stupid, I think this is all stress."
Brent dropped to his knees and took her hand in his. "Maybe it is, but I’m the detective here, right? Let me have a look around and see what I can detect."
Emma nodded and took a sip of coffee. She winced, boy he was right, it was strong.
Brent looked around the kitchen. There was very little to see. A few cupboards, an old dresser, and the door leading to the outside. He took his time and realized he didn't want to leave her alone. Maybe it was stress. That would be what his boss would tell him. Yet, his instincts told him something different. There was definitely something wrong with this place.
The only other thing in the kitchen was the door outside to the porch. He turned the handle, and it was locked. As he did, he heard a faint, high-pitched sound and felt cold air blast across the back of his neck. Instinctively he turned around, there was nothing there, just a strange shadow on the white wall behind him. It coalesced, marring the white paint and it made him feel queasy. Then it was gone, it must have been his own shadow, somehow the light must have cast it on the wall. Yet, where had the draft come from? Logic said it couldn't come from the door that was in front of him but there was nothing behind him. Just a solid wall. Maybe this house was getting to him too.
"I'm gonna take a look around the rest of the house,” he said.
Emma was watching him, and he wanted to see her smile. Her lips twitched, that was enough, it was a start. “When I'm finished I’ll come down and cut off those branches. Do you have any tools?"
Emma shook her head.
"No worries, I’m sure I can find something in my car. Now, I’m gonna look around, check for signs of entry. I won't be a moment, you shout if you need me."
Emma nodded again, and he was sure he saw another faint glimpse of a smile. That made all this worthwhile.
Emma watched Brent as he looked around the kitchen. She was not sure what he was expecting to find but felt comforted with him being here. Yet he also made her nervous. Part of her wanted to sit down with him and talk and laugh and joke just like normal people. Part of her wanted to tell him to go, to leave and to never come back. The old fear was heavy on her chest, and she was struggling to cope with it. Yet she did not want to be alone in this house, not until she was sure that she was safe.
As Brent looked around the kitchen, she was sure he had seen something. Maybe it was the shadow, the stain on the wall that she had seen before? Maybe he had felt the draft, but then he just turned back to the door as if nothing has happened. Was this all in her mind?
She could hear Brent walking around the lower level of the house. He was knocking on walls, opening doors, and moving furniture. Suddenly, she felt so silly, what was she expecting him to find? Did she think that Mark was here, hidden behind the sofa just waiting to pop out at her whenever she fell asleep? Maybe she did, maybe that's what her subconscious felt. Maybe that was why she heard all the strange things. Yet it didn't explain the injury to her neck or the cat... what could explain those two?
Brent had gone upstairs and again she could hear him walking around and suddenly, she felt very alone. The wind whistled through the trees whispering to her and the branches scratched against the window. The pitch changed, it sounded just like a scream and then the wind dropped, and it sounded like laughter. The light and joyous laughter of a child. It looked like she really was going crazy... like this was all in her mind.
Brent came back into the room. "I've had a good look around, and I can't see anything out of order."
"Maybe it's all in my mind," she said, her eyes beseeching him to deny her.
Brent crossed the room and put a hand on her shoulder. Emma jerked backward almost knocking her chair over. In her chest, her heart was pounding, and her throat was as dry as sawdust. "I'm sorry," she said "I'm so sorry… I just… I just… I'm not ready, not yet."
Brent pulled his hand back and looked down at her so calmly that it relieved her nerves. "I understand," he said. "I'm happy to just be here as a friend, to help you out. I'm going to leave you that radio and tonight, no matter what happens, if you need somebody, anybody, you call me. There is no pressure, I don't want anything from you. I just want you to feel safe."
Emma felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She nodded. "Thank you."
"Now, let's chop down those trees. I’ll just nip to the car, I have a knife in there."
"There's an axe in the shed if that's any good?" Emma said, remembering the wood and the axe she had seen there.
"That will do even better," Brent said and gave her a 'Here's Johnny' grin.
Emma couldn't help but laugh, and suddenly all the tension was gone.
Brent reached for the key in the door. As he did, the sound of a child’s scream filled the room. Emma felt her heart start to pound, her palms were sweating, she wanted to run. Only she saw the look on Brent's face and realized he had heard it too. She wasn't going mad. He had heard it, but had it been a child’s scream?
"Stay here," Brent said, and he went out the door.
Suddenly, she was alone, and the fear was like a physical force weighing her down and she could not take it. She had to follow him, would not be alone in this house again. Yet, she had been sure the scream had come from behind her, from the wall with the disappearing stain. Brent had looked the other way, he must have heard it in front of him.
The scream came again, louder this time and definitely in front of her. Emma feared for Brent, and she ran out the door, only to find him laughing. "What the… What the heck is going on? she asked.
Brent moved the branches across the window. As he did she heard the sound of the scream, it was exactly as she had heard just a moment ago. He stopped, the scream stopped, he moved the branch again, slower this time. The sound of a child's laughter filled the
air.
"This can't be real," she said. "How can a tree sound so… so eerily like a child?"
"I don't know, but I promise you I will not be putting in my report quite how scared that sound made me."
"My big, brave detective," Emma said laughing and then blushed furiously as she realized what she had just said.
Brent just laughed. Taking the axe, he began to hack away at the branches and soon they were all chopped down. He had found a few larger ones. When they hit the house, it sounded just like knocking. It looked like half of the things she imagined were just the trees. Emma felt the tension release, she stood back and watched him work. It was strangely satisfying and nice to see him doing this, just for her. As she moved, the soil beneath her felt strange to her feet, almost silky. She looked down to see that she was standing in a circle of burnt ground. ‘Brynlee – Burnt Clearing.’ It looked like it had been burnt recently and she felt the breath catch in her throat.
"What is this?" she asked.
Brent had finished chopping, he put down the axe and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then he walked over and looked at the ground. Dropping to his knees, he ran his fingers through the ash. "Looks like somebody set a fire here recently, I guess you have had intruders. Maybe you shouldn't stay here because they could come back."
Intruders.
So somebody had been here, maybe somebody had attacked her. Could that explain what had happened to her neck? It seemed as if everything had been explained and it was all totally logical.
"I think they've gone now. I feel safer."
"Then why don't you make me another coffee?" Brent said. "We can talk. I will stay here as long as you want."
Emma blushed and nodded at the house indicating for them to go back inside.
This time she made the coffee while Brent sat at the table. He talked about the local town, about his job, about the weather. About anything just to make her feel better, and it did.
Emma put two mugs of coffee on the table and sat down opposite him. "I can't thank you enough for coming. With your great detective skills, it looks like everything has been explained."
"Everything except your neck," he said. "You never told me what happened."
Emma didn't quite know what to say. She had explained about cold spots, about everything, but how could she explain that this injury appeared to be from a cobweb?
"I won't judge you, Emma."
"I know… it is just that it was so strange."
Brent reached across and took her hand, this time she did not pull back. It felt nice, comforting, and yet there really was no pressure.
Nothing was said for a few seconds, but it was not uncomfortable. Emma knew she had to tell him, she just needed to find a way to do it. As she opened her mouth to speak the temperature in the room dropped 20°. Her breath frosted before her face.
Brent's eyes widened, he had seen it.
"Did you see that?" she asked.
He nodded.
"So many times in this room I have felt a chill, a draft, or it has been so cold that I have seen my own breath. That just doesn't seem normal."
"I felt a draft too," he said. "I thought I saw something on that wall."
Emma knew her eyes were wide with surprise, he had seen something.
"Tell me what happened to your neck and then we will investigate this cold."
Emma let out a big sigh, maybe it was just best to tell him. "It has happened a few times now, only the last time was by far the worst. I feel a presence, a malevolence, the room goes cold, it smells of burning. I came across the hallway, it is always directly beneath the banister, something touches my face. I think it's a cobweb, my arms fly out in panic. I know it's stupid, but I hate spiders. Then, whatever it is... it gets coarser, stronger. The last time it came across my throat I felt it lift me from my feet and I could not breathe. I thought I was going to die. Then I felt a different presence, and suddenly I was free. I know what you think... that I'm going crazy, and maybe you're right."
"No, I don't think that," Brent said. "Maybe there had been an intruder? It was dark and late, and the mind can play tricks on you. I will get to the bottom of this for you. I promise."
Emma nodded and smiled. Right then she wished she could lay her head against his chest and just let him put his arms around her. The fact that she could even think such a thing shocked her to her core.
Suddenly, the room was cold again. Both Brent and Emma's breath misted in the air before them. The air filled with smoke, it made them cough and choke and yet they could see nothing. Emma felt an oppressive weight on her chest, it was as if the room was pressing against her and it felt like evil.
Chapter 11
Emma tried to talk, but her voice was trapped in her throat. Fear had formed a lump there and would not allow the words to escape.
Brent had not noticed her reaction, he stood, and slowly he looked around the room. It was as if he was searching for someone. He coughed as if he smelt the smoke.
"You feel it too," Emma said. "You feel the presence, and it is evil."
Brent looked at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to agree.
Instead, he shook his head. "There has to be a logical explanation, there just has to be."
The air seemed to clear, and the room was warmer again, even if only a little bit.
It was as if the words gave him strength. He approached the wall. As he touched it, Emma saw it turn black beneath his fingers and yet he did not blink. It was obvious all he saw was the wall. Emma wanted to tell him to move, that it was evil, and that they should just leave. Yet he ran his hands across the wall. Reaching up towards the ceiling. Tapping, moving his hand, tapping again, and again. To her, his fingers were sinking into the mold, and it made her want to gag. Yet he just kept tapping on different parts of the wall. Then she heard it. A different sound on one part of the wall. It was hollow.
"You heard the difference didn't you?" Brent asked.
Emma nodded though she did not know what it meant.
Brent was tapping along the wall, pushing and shoving and searching with his fingers. He squatted down onto the floor and ran his hands along the skirting board. Then he looked at her, and a smile came over his face.
What had he found?
She watched as he pressed a mark on the skirting board. There was a groan and a scraping sound and then the sound of ripping plaster. As she watched, the wall started to crumble in places. Chunks of plaster dropped to the floor, and a door-shaped section of the wall swung away from them. In its place was a dark cavernous void that filled her with dread.
Brent turned to her and smiled. It appeared that he was happy with the discovery and yet the black hole before them scared the living daylights out of her.
"This explains the draft," Brent said.
Emma could not help but think he looked like an excited child. Like one about to go on an adventure. Yet she hoped that he would pull the door closed, bolt it and seal it off so that they could never even know that it had been there.
"You have a flashlight?" he asked.
Emma shook her head. Even if she had she would not have found it, would not have made it easier for him to go into that evil void.
"I have one in the car. Just give me a minute, and we can see what is down there."
Brent was gone before she could say a thing. He left her alone in the cold kitchen with that awful empty hole. Emma wanted to run after him, but her legs would not hold her. She forced a deep breath into her lungs and tried to calm the panic. Nothing had happened. It was just another room, and maybe he was right, maybe this was the cause of all the cold.
A low groan came out of the entrance. Emma felt the hair rising on her arms, and she could not breathe. Then she heard something behind her, a meow. Looking down she saw the cat. Its amber eyes found hers and seemed to challenge her as it strolled into the room. She hadn't seen the cat for some time. It was strange, for when it was not there she forgot all about it. Now it was here again, and
just the sight of it made her skin crawl and her stomach roll. She could almost feel the sawdust beneath its fur. The weight and feeling of a stuffed shape and yet here it was walking, stalking, and challenging her with its eyes. It made no sense, and for a moment she wanted to scream. Just as she opened her mouth, Brent walked back into the kitchen. The look on his face was one of pure excitement, of discovery. Somehow having him back made everything seem less real. He was right, it was just another room, and she was just letting her imagination get the better of her.
Yet, if it was just another room then why had it been hidden behind a wall?
"Are you ready?" Brent asked.
Emma wanted to say no, she wanted to say there was no way she was going down there. And yet she found her head nodding.
Brent nodded and turned on the flashlight. He shone it into the hole. The beam cut through only a few feet of darkness. They could see a narrow staircase leading down into the gloom. The last thing Emma wanted to do was go down there, and yet she knew she would.
"It's dark, be careful on the stairs," Brent said as he stepped into the dark.
Emma hesitated for a moment. She could feel something down there, something evil. As she stood on the threshold, she felt the caress of a breath on her ear. It was just the tiniest of touches, just a brush of air, and yet it froze her to the spot. Something was whispering to her, but she could not hear it over the pounding of her heart. She tried to listen yet at the same time tried to run, but her legs would not move.
"You can stop this," the voice said.
"Who is this? Emma asked. "Leave me alone."
"You will die." This voice was in her other ear, and it sounded like a man. An angry man.
Emma put her hands over her head trying to shut out the voices, but she could not shut out the feeling of somebody there. At last, her legs would move, and she rushed towards the opening. She could see Brent halfway down the stairs. It could have only been a moment or two since he stepped into the void and yet it felt like she had been hearing voices for several minutes.
The Haunting of Brynlee House: Based on a Real Haunted House Page 6