by Mac Flynn
Maggie put down the phone and glanced at the road. The weak headlights of the car revealed a winding road with sparse houses. On her left was a mess of woods that stretched northward. On her right was the infamous bay and the cliffs that led down to the waters. The crash of the waves against the rocks wrecked the otherwise peaceful night.
Maggie counted the house numbers along the road. "560. 562. Five-" She paused and frowned.
Each of the previous house numbers were more or less evenly spaced apart, but where the next house should have been was empty. There was a driveway overgrown with weeds, but no number or mailbox. The same was true for the other parcels leading up to the address she sought. They were all unoccupied.
Maggie shivered. She was alone. There wasn't a light anywhere around her as she navigated a left corner in the road. The road veered away from the bay and a thick forest of trees blocked both the view and the sound of the waves. The limbs and brush of the tall wilderness stretched over the road and snuck onto the shoulders, creating a cave-like effect of darkness that blotted out the twinkling stars.
Maggie gripped the steering wheel tighter. She glued her eyes to the road and the left side. Her heart quickened when her headlights caught on a white plastic stick that stuck up beside the road. It was one of the county address signs. The sign was chipped and the numbering was worn, but she recognized the numbers she needed. 666.
Maggie turned onto the weedy gravel driveway. She was glad to see that though grass grew among the white pebbles the blades were cut to a manageable height by some man-made machine. The brush was cut from the road and the trees that hung over her car were free of dead limbs.
Still, Maggie bumped down the gravel driveway with apprehension. The road was too narrow to turn around, and she wasn't the most proficient driver of backing up. The thick fog from the bay waters didn't help her driving.
That's why she was so glad to see the driveway widen into a circle. Maggie slammed on the brakes and leaned over the wheel. Ahead of her loomed the roof of a large mansion. Its peeked trestles stabbed the dark sky as though in warning of danger. Her eyes wandered down the shingled roof to the faded wood that made up the siding of the attic floor. Thorny vines covered many of the walls, but she glimpsed tall, narrow double-windows with dark lattice.
The rest of the house was obscured by the thick fog, but Maggie noticed a tall iron gate some fifty feet from the turnaround. She stepped out of her car and shivered. The damp sank into her bones as she wrapped her coat close to her and strode up to the gate. The thick wrought-iron was surrounded on either side by a wall of stone eight feet tall and at least a foot thick. The walls stretched disappeared into the foliage on her left and right.
Beyond the gate some two hundred feet stood the house. A gulf of towering willows and frosted grass was all that separated her from her goal. That, and the gate.
Maggie's eyes fell on a dark plate in the stone column on her left. She walked over and realized the plate was an intercom. A single button sat beneath the plate.
Maggie leaned down and pressed on the buzzer. "H-hello?"
A sharp, high-pitched male voice answered her. "What is it?"
Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. "M-my name is Maggie O'Hara. I need to speak with Mr. Forrest."
"Mr. Forrest sees no one, now leave."
Maggie bit her lower lip. "But I-um, I have an appointment."
The man's voice grew more irritated. "I told you to leave, or I will be forced to call the police on you."
Maggie frowned at the intercom. "Fine, I'm leaving."
The young woman stepped back and swept her eyes over the hateful house. That's when a devious idea hit her. There didn't seem to be any video cameras or other security system measures. Maggie moved back to the intercom and pressed the button.
"Can you hear me now?"
The irritated man answered again. "What are you still doing here? Leave!"
Maggie smiled. "Leaving."
The man's words told her what Maggie wanted to know. He couldn't see her. If the man manning the gate couldn't see her then that meant nobody else would see her.
Or that was the theory.
CHAPTER 2
