“Stand back,” said Steve.
The only sound was the weird murmur of long-dead victims. The sound was closer now, angrier.
Addie and the others stepped out of the way as Steve and Ike tipped the casket, spilling the body onto the ground. Dried skin ripped and powdered, bones scattered. Abner and Ben did the same and Pearl’s corpse rolled to the floor in a clack and rattle of dust and bone. The smell of old death plumed out, saturating the air, and Steve’s stomach tightened like a clenched fist.
The five of them gathered around the dried up remains of Henry Hank Barrow and Pearl Abbott and, without speaking, began to desecrate the bodies, kicking them, bringing their sledgehammers down to crush bone. H.H. Barrow’s skull snapped free and Abner hurled it against the wall. It struck, cracked, and rolled toward Steve, stopping at his feet.
Steve raised his sledgehammer and, with a war cry, brought it down hard, turning the mummified head of H.H. Barrow into dust.
57
Fluffy to the Rescue
“What in the world?”
Delilah was about to open the door to head downstairs to see what was taking Holly so long when she heard the scratching. She saw nothing through the peephole, but the sound came again, followed by a loud, insistent meow. She opened the door.
Fluffy sat staring up at her, tail beating the floor.
“Did you jump out of Holly’s arms?” Delilah asked, bending down to pet him. “Well, come on in.”
“Meow!” The cat looked her in the eye, then stood, and turned around. He took a few steps away from the door and looked over his shoulder. “Meow!” he insisted.
“What do you want?” Delilah smiled.
He returned, tail whipping. “Meow!” He turned again, took two steps, and stopped, positively glaring at her. “Meow!”
Delilah chuckled. “Are you auditioning to replace Lassie? Is Timmy in the well?”
“Meow!”
“Oh, dear God.” Suddenly, she understood, and followed the cat out. He trotted down the stairs, looking back to make sure she was behind him. When they arrived at the fourth floor she saw Holly standing in the center of the hallway about halfway to the elevator.
“Holly?” she called.
The girl didn’t turn, didn’t move, but faced the other direction, still and stiff, and Delilah realized her granddaughter saw something she couldn’t. Staring hard, she discerned something like waves in the air, the kind you see over a hot desert highway. Suddenly, the temperature dropped.
Fluffy hissed, tail fluffing to three times its normal size as he turned and bolted back upstairs.
Delilah heard Holly’s voice, low and cool, intense. “You can’t touch me,” she said to the wavering air. “You can never touch me. Do you hear? I won’t allow it.”
It was a standoff. A moment passed then Holly yelped once, flinched, then cried “NO!” before going still again.
Delilah ran toward her.
“No,” Holly said in a voice made of steel. “You can’t touch me, Pearl. Neither can you, Henry Hank. NO!”
“Get away from her!” Delilah, trying to put herself between Holly and whatever threatened her, was suddenly in the grips of Pearl Abbott’s freezing fingers once more. An instant later, something massive and thick engulfed her, made it hard to breathe.
“NO!” commanded Holly. “Get off her! Now! Get off! Get off!”
And it stopped. Just like that.
Even the chill vanished.
Coughing, Delilah saw Holly’s molten gold eyes. “Was that Pearl Abbott?”
“It was both of them.”
“Holly, you saved me! My God, I had no idea you could drive them away like that!”
“I didn’t, Gram. They just disappeared. They’re gone. That’s why it’s not cold anymore.”
“Well, thank you.” Delilah hugged Holly tight, then looked at her. “I don’t understand.”
Holly hesitated. “I was holding them off, but it was hard. Something else made them leave. They just stopped pushing at me and the itch stopped.”
“Itch?”
“Henry Hank tries to get in my head sometimes. It itches.”
“In your head?”
“He wants to get inside me and take over my body. Remember? We need to go-”
“I didn’t understand… My God, he wants to possess you! We can’t let him.”
“He can’t get in my head, Gram. I know how to keep him out.”
“But-”
“Help!” a rasping voice called. “Help!”
Delilah looked up, saw nothing.
“Help!”
“It’s Arthur Meeks,” Holly said sourly. “He ran for the elevator when the ghosts came.”
“We should go tell him it’s safe now. He sounds terrified, poor man.”
Holly stared at her, gold beginning to swirl back into her eyes. “He’s a bad man, not a poor man.”
“Help me!” came a muted shriek.
“Come on, Holly. We have to help.” Delilah started for the elevator, Holly trailing
behind.
“Something doesn’t look right,” Delilah said as they approached. “Hurry!”
She ran and when she passed the huge planter that hid the bottom of the elevator, she gasped. The cab was about six feet above the landing. “Oh, dear God.” Arthur Meeks had obviously been too frightened to notice and had fallen into the shaft. Now he dangled, his arms folded over the threshold, his only purchase.
He looked up at her. “Oh, thank heaven, Miss Devine! Please help me!”
She knelt. Hearing Holly behind her, she said over her shoulder. “We have to help Arthur up before he falls.” When she looked back at Meeks, he was staring past her, at Holly, his skin pallid as death, his lips bloodless.
“He tried to hurt me.” Holly came no closer.
“He was probably just frightened and pushed past you without thinking. Give me a hand.”
“No! Gram, listen to me! He tried to chloroform me! He has pictures in his room. He wanted to do things to me.”
Arthur’s eyes went wide. “That’s not true! She’s making up stories because I caught her snooping in my room.”
“Because you stole my bank. And, Gram, he had my underwear in his room and a whole drawer full of girls’ panties. And pictures. Naked pictures of girls. I ... I think some of them were dead.”
Delilah couldn’t think. “Holly, what are you saying?”
“Go look right now if you don’t believe me.” She glanced at Meeks. “He can wait.”
“I don’t need to look. I believe you.” Delilah stared down at Arthur Meeks, thinking about the missing posters she’d seen in town, about the children who’d disappeared over the last few years. “If you want us to help you, Mr. Meeks, tell me the truth.”
“I swear it’s not what you think!” he sputtered. “I didn’t kill anybody! I’m not Lonely Boy. She’s just saying that! She doesn’t like me!”
“Gram?” Holly spoke urgently. “I know where the ghosts went. They’re at Pearl’s house. We have to go now or Steve and Addie and the others, they’re going to die! We have to go!”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Help me!” Meeks pleaded. “Don’t listen to her! She’s lying! Help me!”
“They’ll all die!” Holly said urgently. “We will, too! Addie and I have to be together to stop them! But we have to go now!”
“Okay, Holly.” Delilah rose, never taking her eyes off Arthur Meeks. Now she could clearly see the glassy depravity behind the fear in his eyes. She prided herself on reading people but she’d never even taken the time to read the all-but-invisible bellhop before.
“You’re not gonna leave me hanging here because of what that little slut of yours said, are you?” He spoke rapidly, his voice fired with desperation.
And there it was. Delilah stared down at the man, at his sweating face and terrified, pleading eyes. “Little slut?”
“You know she was asking for it! It’s not my fault! She’s been
hanging around lifting her skirt to show me her privates. She doesn’t wear underwear. She’s asking for it. It’s not my fault! You know she’s-”
Delilah got back down on her knees and put her hands over Meeks’ arms. “Are you sure, Mr. Meeks?” she whispered. “Are you positive that’s true?”
“Gospel, Miss Devine! She’s been rubbing up against me from the day she arrived. It’s not my fault! She made me!”
“God doesn’t like liars,” Delilah said.
“Of course not, Miss Devine! Of course not. I’d never lie!”
“Tell that to the devil!” Delilah shoved, pushing Meeks’ arms off the threshold. Screaming, the bellhop spiraled into the darkness below.
Delilah, still on her knees, said, “I pity the devil.”
Holly grabbed her and pulled her up, tears streaming, hugging her so tight. “Thank you for believing me.”
“Holly, I’m sorry for underestimating you. Let’s go help our friends.”
58
House of the Dead
Steve had wanted Eddie to stay well away from the old house, but the rain made it too wet, and the lightning bursts too dangerous, to stand guard anywhere but on the front porch. Eddie had been pretty jazzed for a while, hanging out on the dark creaking porch of a haunted house while the storm rumbled around him, but now he grew impatient. It seemed like the others had been inside forever while he was stuck out here just because Steve was afraid of pissing off Mom.
Eddie shined his light through the big front window, but again saw nothing more interesting than cobwebs and dust. Even the old rocking chair that was supposed to move on its own was missing. Maybe it got bored and moved to another room.
He wanted to move, too, to go inside and see what the others were doing in the basement. It should be one of the old guys out here, not me. I should be helping smash bones. Thunder rumbled, nearer now. Damp and bored, Eddie wondered how it could take so long to mangle a couple of skeletons.
He leaned against the faded siding, yawned, scratched his chin, and sighed. Lightning flashed close enough to light the sky. Thunder followed on its heels, then a deluge. Suddenly, he had to pee like a racehorse. He considered whizzing off the porch, but he really wanted to see inside and there was probably an old toilet or a sink or something in there he could use. He smiled to himself; yes, peeing was a fine excuse to go in and poke around.
Carefully, quietly, he opened the torn screen door and stepped indoors; it was cold as hell, but after the warm humid night, it felt good. He shone his flashlight around the room, and saw only the weird blue walls and the center staircase draped in cobwebs. Nothing more.
He approached the hallway and played the light over the rooms beyond. The first doorway was partially blocked by the broken remains of an old chair. The haunted rocking chair? Curious, he started to step over it then stopped - the air was twice as cold in the room and his need to pee became excruciating. Turning, he saw an old bucket at the short end of the hall. Sighing relief, he used it then zipped up before grabbing the pail and returning to the main room.
The heavy main door had somehow shut itself. He opened it then, as he put his hand on the screen door, thunder cracked and lightning stabbed the ground directly in front of the house. Shocked, Eddie set the pail down - no way was he going outside to dump it until the lightning moved away. He watched the storm. The rain soon let up, but electricity danced in the whipping wind. The dead trees swayed. It was like Night on Bald Mountain in Fantasia. Eddie wished he were in the theater watching the movie instead of here in this creepy old place, living it. That’s not like me! I should love being in a haunted house. It’s fun!
But he didn’t love this haunted house. It wasn’t fun at all.
Lightning split open the sky, a huge, long bolt of it, and struck one of the dead trees. He watched it crack and flame. Half the tree broke off and crashed to the ground, smoking and sizzling, and then a gust of rain drenched the flames as the wind howled like a thousand banshees.
For an instant Eddie saw something darker than night, something that flickered with red and blue flames as it obscured the downed tree then rolled toward the house. “Holy shit!”
The screen door seemed to waver.
Ice cold air, crackling with static, engulfed him. It felt thick and slimy and Eddie tried to pull free but it was like running in mud. He could barely move. Finally, it passed by him, and again, he thought he saw tiny flashes of cobalt and scarlet in the wavering air. Then something else ice-cold was touching him, hurting, pulling, and pinching. He yelled, then it was gone, too, trailing a frigid train of air behind it.
Breathing hard, Eddie staggered to his feet and followed; he had to warn the others.
He shined his light but couldn’t see beyond the frosted air as the all-but-invisible things - the ghosts! - headed into the kitchen. They moved to the far end, to a yawning door. The cellar!
“Watch out down there!” Eddie yelled as loud as he could. “Watch out!”
Staying close enough to frost his breath, he followed the entities down the stairs. He saw Steve and the others, then, their flashlights bobbing and blinding. He heard sounds like distant cries and sobs, faraway screams, unreal, unholy. “Steve! Watch out!”
Steve looked up. “I told you to stay outsi-” Then he became aware of the invisible cold.
“Henry Hank and Pearl are here,” Addie cried. “Finish with the bones! Hurry!”
Steve and Abner smashed scattered white bones swathed in torn blue cloth. Eddie watched sparks fly as the hammers hit concrete.
Adeline stepped forward, her flashlight faltering as she raised her voice. “Stop! Stop right there, Pearl Abbott!” Then she screamed and dropped the flashlight, but not before Eddie saw red welts appearing on her face and neck.
Then it looked as if Steve were moving in slow motion, as if he were inside a force field, and Eddie realized the icy thing that had been on him upstairs engulfed his cousin now. Despite it, Steve kept hammering. Abner did too. Adeline Chance yelled something as Ike tried to pull her back toward the stairs. Ben Gower kept kicking at the bones.
With a clang, Steve dropped his sledgehammer, staggering. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. Eddie sprang forward and leapt for the dropped sledge, pulled it out of the icy slime. Seeing a mummified leg, he smashed it. “Let go of him!” he cried, and crushed another “Let go!”
They made it to Pearl’s house in a blaze of lightning and a herald of thunder. Rain half-swept them down the trail and Holly kept glancing back at Delilah, amazed at her sure-footedness, pleased at her speed. They’d lost too much time already and Holly had intended to run ahead, but she didn’t need to.
Wet branches slapped Holly’s face as she skittered toward the house. She pushed them aside, uncaring, determined only to stop Henry Hank from destroying her new family.
They arrived at the rear of the house and Holly led them around front. One of the dead trees had been struck by lightning and lay smoking on the barren ground. “This way.” Holly and Delilah took the broad porch steps. Behind them, lightning torched the ground where they’d been standing a moment before. Thunder rattled the house and set the wooden porch moving under their feet. Holly pushed the screen door open and stepped into the cold blue room, her stomach twisting.
“Do you see them? Henry Hank and Pearl?” Delilah hugged herself against the chill air.
“No, but they’re here somewhere.” Holly squinted, her eyes getting used to the darkness. There were other spirits here, too, ones she hadn’t noticed the day she and Keith had explored. They were watching, frightened. A few nearly invisible wisps peered from the hallway, but Holly sensed more watching from the kitchen. They were massing there, almost formless, mere suggestions of people. She could hear their voices, anguished, angry.
“Addie and Steve and the others are downstairs,” Holly told Gram. “So are Henry Hank and Pearl. You should stay here. It’s safer.”
“Not on your life,” Delilah said firmly. “Lead on.”
Lightning lit the path to the kitchen, thunder rumbling as Holly felt the spirits of her great-great-grandfather’s victims surrounding her, touching her, asking for help, demanding it.
“Do you hear voices?” Delilah whispered.
“Yes. Ignore them. They can’t hurt us.” Holly entered the long galley kitchen and even in darkness, could see the deeper dark of the open cellar. Crashes and calls came from below. The unmistakable ring of metal striking concrete. She heard Adeline’s voice, commanding, then Abner’s, cursing. A yell, a scream.
Holly clutched the handrail and started down into the frigid cellar, Delilah behind her.
Mad flashes of light lit the room as flashlights pointed here, then there. One briefly blinded her and Ben Gower cried, “Holly’s here.”
“Delilah,” Addie ordered. “Stay on the stairs. Don’t come down!”
“But-”
“Do what she says, Gram.” Holly made the floor, her eyes first on Eddie, who was hammering stray bones as if he were Thor himself, then Abner, who stood amid a mound of white shards, half a skull glaring up at him as he took aim. Steve knelt, panting.
Along the walls, spirits watched from behind trunks and barrels. They were half-hidden staring at something beyond her. Holly turned to look.
At the other end of the room Pinching Pearl glowered from the cradle of the massive sparking blackness of Henry Hank Barrow. Holly gasped as the Brimstone Beast began to form, the black scales lit by cobalt fire, the eyes blazing rubies. Something scratched at her brain. “Come fly with me, Holly,” came that rumbling voice. “Together we will rule the night and the copper moon shall be ours.” The Beast opened its mouth, breathing cold blue flames. A red forked tongue lolled out and Pearl Abbott stroked it.
“Did you hear that?” Eddie said.
Brimstone Page 45