Rockinghorse

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Rockinghorse Page 9

by William W. Johnstone


  “Lucas . . .” Her fingers dug temporary trenches in his arm.

  “Easy, now,” he replied; but his words fell flat. He touched the butt of the .45 and sighed. “Come on.”

  They walked into the gloom.

  * * *

  “You better turn us loose,” Jackie told the men and women gathered around them in the large room. It was a scary room, filled with all sorts of skulls and old bones and upside-down crosses and other witchcraft paraphernalia. “This is kidnapping, you know.”

  “Wrong, girl,” the man with the small mean eyes said. His voice was harsh and heavy, with a slight accent. “You both were trespassing on private property. That is against the law. You will both stay here until your parents come for you. These woods are very dangerous. There are creatures out there,” he waved his hand, “much like the bigfoot of the great Northwest.”

  “That’s not true,” Johnny said.

  The man’s eyes turned even meaner. “Do not dispute me, boy. And, yes, it is true.”

  “Our folks will call Trooper Cartier on you bums,” Johnny fired back. His initial fear was gone, replaced by youthful anger and recklessness.

  “Yes, we know all about Cartier and your family,” a woman said. A very pretty woman, Jackie thought. But that sure was a funny-looking medallion she had hanging around her neck. “However, you children did a very wrong and foolish thing. You must be pun-wished.”

  “You put a hand on either of us and I’ll call a lawyer!” Jackie announced.

  The four adults found that very amusing. But the humor did not quite reach their eyes. They remained hostile.

  The second man said, “You won’t have to call very loudly. One is approaching now.”

  “How do you know that?” Jackie asked.

  “Ve have our vays,” the man said mysteriously. The other woman laughed. “Your father and mother are coming for you.”

  The brother and sister jumped up and ran to the only window in the room that wasn’t barred and shuttered. Neither could see any sign of human life; only the huge, fierce-looking Dobermans that roamed the fenced-in yard.

  “You’re wrong,” Johnny said, turning around.

  “Relax,” the second woman said. She wasn’t quite as pretty as the other woman, but a nice-looking woman. Blonde, where the other woman was dark complexed and had black hair. “They will be here in about fifteen minutes; they are cautious traveling. Now listen to me. Both of you have been given cold drinks and been fed. You have not been harmed. We could not allow you to go back into the woods. All this was for you own good.”

  “You say!” Jackie said hotly.

  “That is correct, girl,” the woman said calmly. “We say. But, for now, we have to call in the dogs so they will not harm your parents. You see the trouble you both have caused us?”

  Jackie looked at Johnny at that remark. The boy said, “You people are the weirdest bunch of people I’ve ever seen.”

  This time, the adults did not find his remarks so amusing. “More than you know, little one,” the dark-haired woman said. “Oh, my, yes. Much more than you know. For now.”

  The strange look in her dark eyes shut the boy’s mouth and kept it closed. She walked to a bookcase and took down a human skull. She held it in her hands and looked deeply into the empty eye sockets, then slowly swung her gaze back to the kids. And slowly, like a huge fist closing, fear once more gripped the boy. It was infectious, closing around Jackie as well.

  The others laughed, the laughter rattling the old dry bones of the skeleton hanging from a hook on the wall.

  * * *

  Tracy spotted the bikes first. She ran to them. She could see no signs of any struggle, or that which she had been both fearing and anticipating: blood.

  “Easy, baby,” Lucas said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. “Come on. They left their bikes here for a reason. We have to keep thinking they’re all right. Let’s see what’s around that bend in the road.”

  They walked on, Tracy saying, “It’s damn spooky in here.”

  “Yes.” Lucas did not want to pursue that line of talk.

  Before they reached the bend in the dirt road, they heard the man’s voice calling to someone—or something.

  Then they saw the house behind the fence. They both stood for a few seconds, gazing at the strange-looking structure. They both spotted the gargoyles at the same time.

  “Jesus Christ,” Lucas said.

  A man walked to the open gate and waved to them. It was by no means a friendly greeting, but more a gesture of impatience indicating that he both demanded and was used to instant obedience.

  “I don’t like him at all,” Tracy said.

  “Friendly sort,” Lucas said sarcastically. Raising his voice, he called, “You seen two kids out here? A boy and a girl?”

  “They are in the house, and they are quite safe. We will send them out to you. Come no closer. Instruct your children to never—never—come back to this place again. Neither you nor your children are welcome here. We have our reasons for this, and will not tolerate any questioning or violation of them. Just do as you are told.”

  “Buddy,” Lucas said, struggling to keep a lid on his temper, “if you’ve held our children against their will, I’ll call the highway patrol.”

  “And charge us with what?” the man asked, a slight smile curving his cruel lips. “Your children can, I suppose, read. They both admitted they saw the warning signs and chose to arrogantly ignore them. The dogs that patrol these grounds are dangerous to strangers. We brought the children into our home for their own protection. The boy and girl have been fed and given cold drinks. They have been treated as guests. Now, what charges could you bring toward people who cared for your children’s welfare and nothing more?”

  Lucas’s legal mind could think of several possible charges, but he let the matter slide for now. “Send the kids out to us.”

  The man waved his arm and the kids shot out of the strange-looking house at a flat run.

  Both parents were much relieved to see the kids safe, but were also still very angry at them for disobeying orders.

  Lucas pointed down the dark road. “Get your bikes and wait for us at the car. Move!”

  The kids’ tennis shoes kicked up dust as they left.

  Lucas turned to the man at the gate and was surprised to see the number had grown by three. Two men and two women. The gate was shut. Huge black Dobermans now slobbered and snarled and growled behind the locked gate.

  How the hell did that happen so quickly? he questioned silently. Jesus! My head wasn’t turned for thirty seconds.

  Before Lucas could speak, a woman said, “You are not welcome here. Take your wife and children and do not come back—ever.”

  The quartet turned as if controlled by one central mind and walked in a single file back to the house. They entered without looking back.

  The dogs snarled and bit at the fence that stood as a barrier between the man and woman and the savage animals.

  “My God,” Tracy breathed the words. “What in the world do you suppose that was all about?”

  “I don’t know. But I am certainly going to take it up with Jim and Kyle.”

  “After we talk with the kids,” Tracy said.

  “Tattoo that on your arm, love.”

  She smiled and patted his hand. “Thanks, dear, but one in the family is quite enough.”

  * * *

  “All right, gang,” Lucas said, fixing his sternest look on the kids. “What do you think your punishment should be?”

  The boy and girl glanced at each other, looking sheepish, and then shrugged. “Whatever, Dad,” Jackie said.

  Lucas and Tracy had listened to the kids’ story. Their anger had quickly abated when they both realized the terror the kids must have experienced. The anger had then shifted to the men and women in the odd-looking house.

  “Your mother and I will discuss it,” Lucas said. “For now, both of you go to your rooms and stay put.”

 
Alone on the front porch, Lucas asked Tracy, “What do you think?”

  “I’m willing to forget it if you are. I think they’ve been through enough. I can’t see them ever going back to that . . . place.”

  “But we don’t have to tell the kids that right away,” Lucas said with a smile. “I don’t want them to think they’re getting off so lightly.”

  “No. We’ll let them stew awhile. Lucas, what kind of people are they? ‘The unknown is here’; human skulls in the den; telling the kids there are monsters in the woods; a skeleton; upside-down crosses; black magic and voodoo paraphernalia, and the kids say they knew we were coming. Good God, Lucas, who do we have for neighbors?”

  “A bunch of crackpots, I’m sure. I guess the rumors were right, those things that Jim told me. I guess those people do . . . as silly as it sounds, worship the devil.” He shook his head and breathed a deep sigh. “I’m just very relieved the kids are safe.”

  “Are you going to talk with Kyle about what happened?”

  “Oh, yes. Certainly. I imagine he’ll be around sometime tomorrow.”

  She looked at her wristwatch. “God, look at the time. It’s three-thirty. I don’t want to take a nap; I won’t be able to sleep tonight. But I don’t remember being so tired.”

  “Tension, I guess. Got us both. I think we’ll be able to sleep quite well tonight.”

  On the landing above them, the rocking horse began to grin and twitch its tail; it rocked slowly back and forth.

  * * *

  The music awakened them. For a moment, neither could quite make out what was happening. Then the faint tinkling of a piano drifted to them through the closed door of their bedroom. The melody was not familiar to either of them.

  Then they both opened their eyes, wide awake, sitting up in bed. The first tiny fingers of fear touched them.

  The sound seemed to be coming from the ballroom of the great old mansion.

  “What the hell?” Lucas muttered.

  “Why am I suddenly afraid?” Tracy asked. “Lucas, what’s happening here?”

  “I don’t know.” He sat on the side of the bed and slipped his bare feet into moccasin-type house shoes.

  “Maybe it’s the kids listening to a radio?” Tracy suggested. There was a hopeful note to her questions.

  “Our kids listening to classical music?” Lucas said. “Not likely. I’m going down the hall to see about this.”

  “Not without me!”

  In night clothes and slippers, the couple made their way silently down the dark hall leading to the ballroom. A noise behind them spun them around, cold damp fear touching them.

  Jackie and Johnny stood a few feet away, both of them rubbing their sleepy eyes. Tracy put a warning finger to her lips. The kids nodded their understanding.

  Jackie slipped to her mother’s side and whispered, “What’s going on? Where is that music coming from?”

  “We don’t know, baby. We’ll see. You two stay behind us.”

  “For sure,” Johnny whispered.

  “You got your gun, Dad?” Jackie asked. Her eyes were frightened and large in the darkness of the hall.

  “No,” he said shortly. Somehow the question irritated him—does everything have to be settled with a gun?

  He was soon to discover the answer to that unspoken question.

  With Lucas leading the way, the quartet made their way carefully to the archway leading into the ballroom.

  The ballroom seemed even blacker than the hallway.

  The piano music grew louder, changing from a quiet lovely melody to one that, to the ears of those listening, seemed somehow ominous . . . and something else. Evil.

  Lucas motioned for the others to stay back. He slipped through the archway and felt for the light switch. Finding it, he took a deep breath and flipped the switch, flooding the room with the harshness of artificial light.

  The room was empty of life.

  “Dad?” Jackie said, moving to his side. She pointed. “Look at the keys on the piano.”

  The family moved slowly into the ballroom and stared in disbelief.

  The piano bench was empty, but the keys were being depressed, the music swelling, louder and wilder than before.

  Lucas heard Tracy suck in her breath in shock and disbelief. “Steady, now,” he cautioned them all. “It’s got to be some sort of . . . Christ, I don’t know. Player piano, I guess. Because that,” he said, pointing to the polished grand piano playing by itself, “is impossible.”

  With his words still echoing in the hallway, the music became still louder and wilder, the invisible fingers pounding the keys.

  Laughter began ringing through the house. Above them, the sounds of a horse whinneying and nickering came to them.

  “That horse again,” Jackie whispered to her brother, too low for the parents to hear.

  Johnny swallowed hard and nodded his head. He did not trust himself to speak.

  “What in the hell is going on in this house?” Lucas offered up the question to anyone who might have an answer.

  No one did.

  The music came crashing to an end, leaving a dead, still silence.

  Someone, or something laughed from the depths of the huge old mansion. The laughter was mocking.

  “All right,” Lucas said. “This has gone on long enough. Who are you?” he yelled. “What do you want?”

  His words echoed back to him in the silence of the great house.

  The lights went out.

  “Somebody’s in the house!” Johnny said. “I can hear them.”

  “They’re coming at us!” Jackie yelled, her cry startling everybody. “Across the room!”

  All could now make out shapes and forms, rushing toward the small group.

  “Dad!” Johnny yelled, as hands fell on his slender shoulders, spinning him around. The boy whirled and broke free of the hard hands. He kicked out, his bare foot striking his attacker in the groin. The black-clad form screamed in anguish. Johnny put a shoulder into the belly of a second man, sending the man sprawling on the marble floor.

  Tracy felt herself lifted off her feet, a hard, callused hand fumbling under her pajama top, squeezing her breasts. She screamed as her old, almost-but-not-quite-forgotten fear returned to her. She fought the man, but he was much bigger and much stronger. His breath was hot on her face and it stank. She struggled but could not prevent herself being dragged away from her family, into a small dressing room off the ballroom. She was forced to the floor, on her back. Her screaming intensified as black fear gripped her in a sweaty hand, turning her almost mindless.

  In the hallway, Jackie clawed and bit and struck at the shapes that surrounded her. She slapped at hands that tried to touch her in forbidden places. She screamed for someone to come to her, to help her, not realizing that no sound was pushing past her lips.

  The girl was powerless to prevent her attackers from fondling her. They laughed as they did, their stinking breath fouling the air. Their bodies pushed close to the terrified girl, the old sweat odors almost making her sick.

  Johnny had lost sight of the murky forms of his parents and sister. Panic seized the boy and he tried to rush into where he believed the moving melee to be. He was grabbed by the shoulders and flung backward, sliding on the marble floor, hitting his head on a baseboard. Bright lights whipped through his head, and he was momentarily stunned as blackness took him into cold arms.

  Lucas had not had a fistfight since his early college days. He had never been a troublemaking youth, and going to public school as he had, had never played much contact sports. But one memory that he had finally had to seek psychiatric help to deal with, and had thought he had whipped after all these years, returned to him in a hot rush of ugly recurrence. Lucas screamed in rage, striking out at the forms and shapes that threatened his family and himself.

  An eerie light began shining and seeping downward from the top landing of the mansion. The sounds of galloping hooves reached his ears.

  “In the house?” he said a
loud.

  His voice gave away his position in the dark hallway. A hard fist caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder, knocking him spinning and sprawling to the floor.

  The breath was knocked from him and he struggled to get to his feet, his wife’s almost-insane screaming filling his head.

  He found himself pinned to the floor, with people pounding on him. But not with fists. They were using sticks. Lucas howled in rage as his oldest fear boiled once more to the surface. He rolled on the floor, but was unable to get away from the sticks that struck him painfully. Each time he tried to rise, he was pushed back to the cool floor, and the beating continued. Little by little, he felt his adulthood being stripped away from him, spinning him back in time, back to his young teens, back to that awful afternoon in that alley in New York City.

  Back to when . . .

  “NO!” he screamed. “NO!” He mustered all his courage and mentally fought away the horrible memories he had tried for so long to dissolve in his mind.

  “Lucas!” Tracy screamed. “Oh, God, Lucas, please help me.”

  Tracy’s pajama bottoms had been torn from her. Strong hands spread her naked legs wide and pinned her ankles to the floor. Hands fumbled between her legs, fondling her, attempting to bring wetness to the dryness.

  “Lucas!” she screamed.

  Lucas lunged against the legs that encircled him. He kicked out and heard the breath gush from one man as the toe of his moccasin struck the man in the stomach. Lucas’s kicking and jerking startled the circle of men, almost as if they had suspected he would not do something like that. Or had been told, the fleeting thought came to Lucas.

  He fought away the dark shapes and rose to his feet just as Jackie’s cries reached him. That, coupled with his wife’s cries for help, gave the man new strength. He fumbled in the dark and found a vase, jerking it from its stand. He smashed the expensive vase over the head of a shapeless form. The man—Lucas supposed it was a man—crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  “Tracy!” Lucas called.

  “Here!” she returned the shout.

  Lucas ran through the open door, colliding with several black-dressed forms, knocking them all sprawling. He grabbed another and slung him against a wall. Lucas drew back his right arm and smashed his elbow into the man’s face. The whatever-in-the-hell-it-was screamed hoarsely and jerked his gloved hands to his face, not in time to catch the sudden spurting of blood from his mashed and broken nose. The blood gushed all over Lucas’s T-shirt.

 

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