by Cross, Amy
I wait, just in case I see the face again.
Finally, realizing that I'm standing like a fool in the pouring rain, and that the so-called face was just a trick of the light, I turn and run around to the front of the house, heading to the main door where I find Bob still sitting patiently and waiting for me. Rain is falling harder than ever, causing a loud hiss to fill the air all around me.
“Out of the way!” I shout, stepping over the dog as I carry the wood inside and head through to the drawing room.
I drop to my knees and let the logs tumble from my arms. As they land noisily on the wooden floor, I take the matchbox from my pocket and pull out a match. I'm really shivering now.
Bob comes sniffing over to me, stopping to smell the logs.
“I know, I know,” I tell him, as I root through my pockets for some old receipts and anything else I can use to get the fire started. “It's not exactly ideal. I'll sort the place out properly tomorrow, I promise. Everything'll seem much better in daylight.”
It takes me a few minutes to get some scraps of paper arranged in the fireplace, and then I add some thin pieces of dry wood, and finally I place the more substantial logs on top. I'm hardly an expert when it comes to this sort of thing, so I have to try several times before I manage to get a proper flame going, by which point the matchbox is almost empty. Leaning into the fireplace, I blow gently on the fire, desperately hoping that it'll grow to become useful. Finally, as if by some miracle, the old logs start to burn and I feel the first faint flickering heat on my face and hands.
“And that's how you start a fire,” I say, turning to Bob. “Impressed? Maybe your new master isn't such an idiot after all.”
He wags his tail at me, and I reach out to pat him on the back. Maybe I was right to take him on after all.
Grabbing some more logs, I place them on the fire. I spot a couple more spiders scurrying to safety, so I guess I brought some of them in with me, but I figure they won't be too much of a problem. Not in a house this big. There's room for all of us, without us even having to cross paths. In fact, as I get to my feet and look around the drawing room, I can't help wondering exactly what I'm going to do with myself in this place. It was all well and good when I planned to shut off part of the house and just live in one side, but now that idea seems rather morbid. With the fireplace casting a flickering glow across the room, I'm momentarily struck by the absolute grand silence of Ashbyrn House, and the emptiness too.
“What do you think?” I ask, looking down at Bob. “Too big? Too much space for just the two of us?”
Slipping out of my wet coat, which I set on the floor so that perhaps the fireplace will dry it a little, I head back through to the hallway. My own footsteps sound loud and harsh in the echoey space, while rain is still lashing down against the windows. Finally I stop at the foot of the stairs and look up toward the landing. I'm not a superstitious man, not by any means, but I'm quite pleased when a moment later I hear the crackling of the fire bringing life to the house, and a moment after that I hear Bob scurrying through to join me. There's a light-switch nearby, so I give it a flick, but of course the damn thing doesn't actually work.
“Don't worry,” I mutter, as much to myself as to the dog, “I'll get everything up and running in the morning. Right now, maybe we should take a look around.”
I wander past the stairs and over toward the door at the far end of the hallway. If memory serves, this should lead to a corridor that runs all the way through the center of the house. Before I get more than a few steps toward the open door, however, Bob hurries past me and then stops, snarling at the cold, empty darkness ahead.
“What's wrong?” I ask, stopping next to him.
He continues to snarl, and I can't help noticing that the hackles on the back of his neck are rising.
“Stop it,” I continue, reaching down and patting his flank. “Come on, there's no need to be like this. You're just -”
Suddenly he barks, as if something on the other side of the open door, something in the pitch-darkness of the house, is upsetting him. He barks again, then again, and now he seems to be almost shaking with anger.
“Well, obviously you can be a guard dog when you want to be,” I say with a faint smile, amused by his apparent dislike of the house's innards. “You can stay through here if you like, but I really want to go and take a look around.”
I hold my phone up for him to see.
“Don't worry, though. I've got this to light my way.”
He barks again, but I ignore him and make my way over to the dark doorway. I don't know what's gotten into that dog, but I suppose maybe he spotted a spider or something else that made him uncomfortable. He barks yet again, but I don't have time to indulge his silliness. Instead, holding my phone up so that I can at least see a few feet ahead, I step through the door and head deeper into the vast emptiness of Ashbyrn House. My new home.
Chapter Eigh t
Katinka - 1859
“Are you okay?” Mother asks as I enter the drawing room. “Katinka, you look rather pale.”
“I'm fine,” I reply, forcing a smile. Why must she meddle? “I was merely spending some time alone, thinking about all the people who will be coming to the house next week. This wedding is going to be -”
I wince as I feel a rush of pain in my side. Glancing first at Mother, and then at Pippa, I can tell immediately that they both noticed. Fortunately, while Pippa is certainly the kind of foolish young girl to blurt out an unguarded question, Mother is far more reserved. I am quite sure that – being a woman herself – Mother will quite understand that a lady can suffer certain difficulties that are best left unmentioned.
“Tea before bed, my dear?” Mother asks, as if to prove my point.
“Perhaps just the one,” I reply, making my way over to the chair in the corner. I ease myself down, despite the searing pain in my side.
Pippa is watching me intently. If Mother leaves the room, I shall undoubtedly be bombarded by questions. Until then, however, I'm sure I shall be quite safe. Turning, I see that there are several of those awful long-legged spiders on the wall next to me. Evidently the beasts are still emerging from cracks in the wall. Father would never have allowed the house to become so decrepit, but at least Charles will have the necessary repair work done.
Reaching out, I press a finger against one of the spiders, crushing its pinhead-sized body against the wallpaper and leaving the legs to twitch for a moment. A faint smile crosses my lips as I kill a second spider, and then a third, and then several more.
“Is Charles coming tomorrow?” Mother asks, focusing on her needlework.
“I believe so,” I reply, as I kill again.
“What's wrong?” Pippa whispers.
I ignore her. The question is insipid.
“Katinka?” she continues. “Are you murdering more spiders? What's wrong, are -”
“Nothing's wrong!” I snap, turning to her.
“I imagine it'll be his last visit before the wedding,” Mother continues, as if she heard neither Pippa's question or my reasonable response. “With these rich men, their most valuable asset is their time. You must remember that once you're married to him, Katinka. He'll be off on business as often as not, so you mustn't develop a jealous or a possessive nature. You must simply content yourself with the job of tending to your home, and you must look after your husband when he is around. And, of course, there will hopefully be children in the not-too-distant future.”
“Hopefully,” I whisper, unable to hide a faint, blushing smile as I take my bible from the table and open to a random page.
“You're bleeding,” Pippa whispers, kneeling next to my chair and leaning over the armrest. Why must she intrude like this? I can actually feel her hot, impatient breath against my hand.
“I'm sure I'm not,” I reply, not bothering to look at her.
“Yes you are. From your side.”
Startled, I look down at the side of my dress, and I'm shocked to see that a very faint
hint of blood is starting to show through the seam. I thought I had patched my injury with sufficient care, but evidently my body betrays me.
“It's nothing,” I tell her, despite the increasing pain. Getting to my feet, I set the bible back down. “However, I think I shall retire for the night.”
“But you're bleeding!” she hisses, thankfully keeping her voice low so that our mother won't hear. Still, she stands, as if she means to follow me. “Katinka -”
“As I told you, it's nothing,” I continue, interrupting her. “I'm sure you have enough to be getting on with, Pippa. Please, focus on your own business and pay no attention to mine.”
“But -”
“Because I do not appreciate such things!”
She stares at me, clearly horrified, but I swiftly make my way past her and head to the door. I can feel the blood now, as if seeps through my undergarments, and I'm becoming a little dizzy in the head. Still, I know I can patch myself up properly, but first I shall need to retire to my room. A lady must be granted her privacy.
“No tea after all?” Mother asks.
“Not tonight.” I turn and smile at her, but she hasn't even looked up from her needlework. After a moment, I turn to Pippa and see that she's still gawping at me like some kind of weak-minded fool. “I have such a big week coming up, and I must ensure I get sufficient rest. I'm sure everyone wants me to be at my best when Charles comes tomorrow to make the final arrangements.”
With that, I turn and head out of the room, although I stumble a little as I reach the foot of the stairs. Fortunately, I was far enough away from the door by the time I became weak, so I'm sure neither Mother or Pippa noticed a thing. The pain in my side is starting to throb, but I already have a plan. I know exactly how to seal the wound, but first I must retire to my room and wait for the others to retire to theirs. And tomorrow, Charles will come. The sooner our wedding day is here, the better.
Feeling a tickling sensation on my hand, I look down just in time to see another spider crawling past my fingers and onto the banister. Without even thinking, I make a fist and crush the brute with such force that the entire railing shudders.
Chapter Nine
Owen - Today
“Nope.”
I flick the switch several more times, out of frustration rather than any real expectation of light, but still the kitchen remains dark.
“I'm going to call the power company in the morning,” I mutter, turning and holding my phone up so I can see the nearby counter-tops and the windows on the far side of the room, “and give them hell. They specifically promised they'd connect me before I arrived.”
Hearing a faint whimpering sound at my feet, I look down and see that Bob has finally joined me. For the past few minutes, he's been following me through the dark house and making no attempt to hide his reluctance. Having seemed fine when we arrived, he now appears rather cowed, as if something is causing him to feel unsettled. I guess he's probably just getting used to his new surroundings, although I can't help wishing that he'd lighten up just a little. Still, it feels good to have him around. If he wasn't here, I'd be talking to myself.
“Don't worry,” I tell him, “I'll get you a nice clean bed tomorrow, and some toys. I'll order them online and they'll be here within a day or two.”
I reach down and pat the top of his head, and he looks up at me with worried eyes. I swear, I never knew dogs could be so expressive.
Leaving him to skulk on the step, I make my way carefully across the kitchen until I reach the windows. Rain is still crashing down outside, but when I lower the phone I'm just about able to make out the woodshed over by the trees. For a moment, I can't help thinking back to the flash earlier when I thought I saw a hint of a presence while I was collecting wood, and I suppose the figure appeared to be standing right here at this window, where I am now. I turn and look around, in case I spot something that I might have mistaken for the edge of a face, and finally I see a set of hooks hanging over the cooker.
I tilt my head slightly.
I guess in the right light, one could be forgiven for imagining the presence of a figure. Fortunately, I've never been one for ghost stories and I'm quite certain that I simply saw a curiously-shaped patch of light. One thing's certain: Ashbyrn House is absolutely empty, apart from Bob and myself.
Suddenly Bob barks, and I turn to see that he seems agitated by something at the far end of the kitchen.
“Settle down!” I call out. “It's okay to be cautious about something new, but you don't need to make a song and dance. You'll get used to the place.”
I turn and look over toward the back door, and for a moment I can't help wondering how I'm even going to begin assembling enough furniture to fill this place. I have some stuff coming in a van, but still, Ashbyrn House is going to feel very empty.
“We'll both get used to it,” I add under my breath.
Bob barks again, and this time I swear he sounds a little shrill.
“Okay, you really need to stop doing that,” I tell him, heading back over and crouching next to him. I start patting his flank, although his hackles are up once again and he's still looking toward the far corner of the room. Turning, I hold my phone up, but the corner is completely bare. “See?” I continue, hoping to make him feel more relaxed. “Just a boring, empty corner in a boring, empty house.”
I pause for a moment.
“And a boring, empty man who's taken you in,” I add finally, before realizing that I'm in danger of becoming rather maudlin.
I sigh.
“Ignore me,” I tell Bob. “I'm just feeling rather sore and sorry for myself these days. You might find this hard to believe, but a couple of months ago I -”
I stop suddenly as I see several more spiders on the wall, next to the door. Just as I'm about to brush them away, I realize that something seems different about them. When I lean closer, I find that their little bodies appear to have been crushed and smeared against the plaster. In one or two cases, their legs are still twitching, so I guess they can't have died more than a few minutes ago.
I've never heard of self-crushing spiders before.
Suddenly there's a loud banging sound from above us. Bob immediately steps back and I look up, tilting my phone so I can see the ceiling as several more bangs right out somewhere in one of the rooms above us. I wait, telling myself that these bangs are perhaps an open window or the scuttlings of a stray mouse, but the noise continues for several more seconds, getting louder and angrier, before finally they stop as abruptly as they started.
I wait.
Silence.
“Okay,” I continue, slowly getting to my feet. “I have to admit, Bob... That was a little freaky. Good job I don't believe in ghosts, huh?”
I wait a moment longer, in case the noise returns, before looking down at Bob and seeing that he's staring at me with a helpless expression, as if he's waiting for me to make everything okay again.
“Well there's obviously not anything up there,” I tell him. “I don't have a clue what caused that noise, but I'll find out and I promise it's something totally harmless. In fact, I'll -”
Stopping suddenly, I realize that I've been in Cornwall for a grand total of about five hours and now I'm already having extended conversations with a dog. If Charlie could see me right now, he'd be having a field day.
“You're welcome to stay down here,” I tell Bob as I turn and head back out to the corridor, “but I'm going to take a look up there and see what the fuss is about.”
Bob immediately lets out a low growl.
“Well I have to go and look!” I point out, turning back to him. “Would you rather we both just cower down here for the rest of the night? You'll feel a lot better once I've -”
I pause, and then I let out another sigh as I realize I'm definitely talking to the dog too much.
“Just stay here,” I add, heading out into the corridor. “You really aren't the best guard dog in the world, are you?”
By the time I get to the fo
ot of the stairs, I'm starting to feel just a little silly. After all, I know that the banging sound was caused by something completely normal and natural, because that's just the way the world works, but I can't deny that there's a sliver of fear in my chest. Or if not fear, then at least doubt. I know this is just my baser human emotions taking over, and that this primitive superstition is something I must fight, but I feel a little uncertain as I look up into the pitch-black upper floor of the house. I mean, what if there's a burglar?
I stay completely still for a moment, letting the silence settle all around me. Silence is good. Silence is what I came for.
Finally I start making my way up, and the steps creak slightly as I climb up into the cold and dark. The air around me feels a little damp, almost clammy, and I've got to admit that I'd rather abandon this plan and go back downstairs. The fireplace is casting a glow from the drawing room and I'd like to sit there for a while, warming myself, but I refuse to let doubts and fears take root in my mind. Even if, by the time I get to the top of the stairs, I'm actually shivering again.
“I really need to get the heating fixed tomorrow,” I mutter darkly, before hearing a bump downstairs.
Turning, I hold my phone up and see Bob at the bottom of the stairs, wagging his tail as he watches me.
“You can come up if you want,” I tell him.
He remains in place, although after a moment he lets out a faint whimper. He seems agitated, as if he wants to follow me but doesn't quite have the courage.
“You're going to feel so silly when I show you what caused that noise,” I continue. “This is a big house, Bob, and it's old. It's gonna creak and groan every now and then, especially when the weather's bad. You're gonna have to get used to it. Come on, why don't you bite the biscuit and come take a look?”
