The Haunting of Silver Creek Lodge

by Alexandria Clarke

  “I changed my mind when the ghosts and murderers came out of the woodwork,” he grumbled.

  “We can get rid of the murderer,” I said. “And we can help the ghosts. This place is magical. I feel it. You feel it. We can’t give it up so easily. We can’t betray Lily and Earl and the other people who are trapped here. We can’t let Boyce keep doing what he’s doing.”

  Simon’s lip curled at the mention of Boyce’s name. “I do hate that guy.”

  “Then let’s make sure he gets what he deserves,” I said. “That way, Bubbles and the rest of Silver Creek will be safe.”

  He touched my cheek. “You really want to do this?”

  “I’m always writing about strong characters overcoming the worst of the worst,” I told him. “It’s time I started doing that in my own life, too.”

  Simon nodded. “Well said, my Queen.”

  The only clothing I had fancy enough for Boyce Driscoll’s Winter Charity Gala was the racy red dress I’d worn to Christian and Sienna’s wedding. When the time came to put it on, Simon let out a low whistle.

  “I forgot how good you look in that dress,” he murmured into my neck, pulling me close.

  As he zipped the dress for me, his fingers drew a swift line up the middle of my back. Warmth grew in my stomach and spread outward. The magnetic pull—now familiar to me—persuaded me to turn around and face Simon. I laced my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

  “Wow,” he said, breathless when I pulled away. “What was that for?”

  “I felt like it.”

  Another kiss later, and the zipper of my dress came undone again.

  “You have the pepper spray, right?”

  “Strapped to my thigh like a sexy spy with a Glock.”

  “You are definitely sexy,” Simon replied. “But can you get to it if Boyce overpowers you?”

  I lifted the fabric around my thigh. The slit went high enough to give me easy access to the small can tucked into my garter. Simon’s breath whooshed out of his lungs at the sight of my smooth skin.

  “Easy access,” I said, demonstrating how I would grab the pepper spray quickly if I needed it. “See?”

  “Okay, put it away before I have to take you to bed again,” Simon said, chuckling.

  I let the dress fall back into place. No one would be able to see the pepper spray unless they stuck their head under my skirt, at which point I would have a very different problem.

  “Ready, lovebirds?” Lily asked. As usual, she had graced the staircase with her ethereal presence. When she saw us dressed in our best duds, she beamed proudly. “I didn’t think Simon owned anything other than flannel shirts and worn-out jeans.”

  Simon adjusted his three-piece suit so the vest sat neatly beneath the jacket. Like me, he decided to wear the same outfit he’d worn to his best friend’s wedding. The suit’s velvet green fabric complemented my red dress quite nicely. Together, we looked like a walking Christmas commercial.

  “Very funny,” Simon said to Lily. “It’s not fair to judge when I haven’t had an opportunity to dress up yet. This knee brace doesn’t do me any favors, though.”

  Over his slacks, he’d position the bulky metal knee brace that would help him walk without his crutches. He wasn’t pleased with the idea of not being mobile while I was in potential danger.

  “You look great.” Lily straightened Simon’s lapels and plucked a stray thread from my neckline. “Everything’s going to go according to plan tonight.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” Simon teased.

  Her eyes twinkled in response. If she wasn’t dead, I might have been nervous that she and Simon were catching feelings for one another. As it was, I was happy they were getting along again.

  “We’ll be here to protect Max,” Lily assured Simon. “I filled everyone in, and we’re all on high alert. When Boyce gets here, we’ll be ready.”

  Lily’s words were no joke. When we got in the car and drove away, I glanced back at the Lodge. The windows were lined with a row of pale, ghostly faces.

  Simon looked in the rear view mirror and shuddered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that creepy.”

  “They want to protect us,” I reminded him. “They’re on our side.”

  “Still.”

  Neither one of us had been to Boyce’s estate before. Like the Lodge, it was set apart from the rest of Silver Creek, about fifteen minutes away from the town’s center. Unlike the Lodge, an actual road led through the woods towards the estate. Stylistic street lamps lined the way; each one wore a glistening white hat of snow.

  “It’s really coming down,” Simon said, leaning closer to the steering wheel and squinting through the windshield. “Did the weather report mention a store like this—whoa!”

  Out of nowhere, we hit traffic. A line of cars curved toward the estate, their brake lights glowing in the flurry. By the looks of things, Boyce had invited the entire town to this so-called gala.

  Slowly but surely, we inched toward a huge wrought-iron gate. The name Driscoll had been twisted into the metal so everyone knew who owned the massive plot of land and the buildings upon it. The snow made it difficult to see much else. As we followed the line of cars up a mile-long cobblestone driveway, we got our first view of the house.

  It was enormous, easily wider than two football fields end to end. The manor resembled an English country house, as if Boyce had gone abroad, pointed to the largest estate he’d seen, and asked his architects to duplicate it. The house, the garden, and the land looked like something right out of a Jane Austen novel. I practically expected Mr. Darcy to come marching from the foyer.

  “Who needs this much space?” Simon muttered. “What could you possibly do with all the rooms in a house like this?”

  “Half the town must work here to keep it clean,” I added.

  “Did Bubbles tell you it was like this?”

  “She hasn’t said anything about her house.” I craned my neck to see the roof of the manor. “Good God, it has a rooftop bar.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up in a place like this,” Simon said. “It makes me mad. People are living on the streets with nothing, but Boyce has this whole place to himself. It’s disgusting.”

  “People with money tend to only care about keeping it,” I commented. “Not benefiting other people.”

  “Your parents had money,” Simon reminded me. “You’re the most generous person I know.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. My parents were comfortable middle class.” I gestured to the elaborate circular driveway that took us closer to the front door. “This is way beyond the kind of money we had.”

  “Still,” Simon said. “Your family was willing to give it away.”

  At a snail’s pace, we finally reached the front of the ridiculous manor. A valet opened our doors and took Simon’s place in the driver’s seat.

  “Where are you parking it?” Simon asked.

  “Around the side of the manor, sir,” replied the valet, pointing to the far edge of the property. “Don’t worry. When you need it, we’ll go get it for you.”

  Simon couldn’t make a fuss without alerting others to our plan for the evening, but it would be mighty inconvenient to wait for a valet to get the car when Simon might have to make a quick getaway later.

  “Can you park it there instead?” Simon indicated a patch of gravel that was unoccupied. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but my knee is quite sore. If I have to leave early, I don’t want to wait for a valet.”

  The valet nodded. “Of course, sir.”

  As the driver pulled the car into Simon’s preferred space, I linked my arm through Simon’s. “Nice job, baby,” I murmured to him. “You sounded like a real snob.”

  He grinned. “Just trying to fit in.”

  As if the party wasn’t ostentatious enough, a glorious red carpet led from the driveway all the way inside the house. We joined the crowd heading in. I recognized a few familiar faces: the baristas from the cafe, Charles, the
librarian, and the doctor who’d diagnosed me with posttraumatic stress disorder. No one wanted to miss out on Boyce’s lavish party.

  The cause for the event was not advertised. No charities were invited to attend the “charity gala,” yet the guests did not bat an eyelash as they signed up for raffle tickets and looked at items for auction. The grand prize was a trip for two to the Bahamas, and it was to be auctioned off right at midnight. Shortly before, we expected Boyce to make his move on me.

  After we checked our coats and moved deeper into the main area of the house, we spotted Keith in his brand-new suit.

  “Act normal,” Simon muttered in my ear as he guided me across the gilded marble floor. “We’ve got to sell this.”

  “I’m gonna kill him,” I whispered back. A second later, I pasted on a bright smile. “Hi, Keith! Wow, look at those slick threads.”

  Keith kissed me on both cheeks. “Thanks, Max. You both look great. What do you think of Boyce’s house?” He spread his arms and beamed as if the house belonged to him.

  “It’s big,” Simon said.

  “Very big,” I added.

  Keith grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed them to us. Simon shook his head, and Keith kept the second glass for himself. He gazed at the detailed ceiling high above us.

  “Boyce said if I play my cards right, I might be able to afford a place like this someday,” he said.

  “If you play your cards right, huh?” I asked through clenched teeth. “What does that mean?”

  He shrugged. “You know. Go back to school, get an education, find a good job. That kind of thing.”

  “It’s harder than it sounds,” Simon advised him. “People don’t often find jobs this good.”

  “Boyce has an opportunity lined up for me,” Keith said, puffing out his chest. “Once I’m finished at the Lodge, he’s going to train me to work for his company.”

  “What exactly does his company do?” I asked.

  Keith was saved from answering when a thin woman in a silver dress politely tapped my shoulder.

  “Excuse me?” she said. “Are you Maxine Finch?”

  “I certainly am.”

  The woman’s eyes glistened with moisture like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m Elizabeth’s mother. She’s told me so much about you.”

  “I’m sorry. Whose mother?”

  She pointed across the room. Bubbles, wearing a pink dress with a poufy skirt that did not suit her personality whatsoever, sat on the edge of an indoor fountain and dangled her feet over the rushing water. She seemed to be wondering whether or not to kick her gaudy pink shoes into the pool.

  “Oh, Bubbles!” I said, turning back to the woman. “You must be Marcy!”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” She clutched my arm, almost too tightly, and pulled me apart from Simon. “She told me how inspiring your comic books have been for her. I started reading them myself. What a story!” She blinked and wiped her eyes. “Goodness, forgive me. I’ve been so tired, arranging the details of this party. I guess it’s finally getting to me.”

  “You should sit.”

  I guided her to a nearby chair. From a nearby station, I filled a glass with cold cucumber water and handed it to her. She drank gratefully. Simon lingered a few feet away, keeping up his conversation with Keith without letting me out of his sight.

  “Thank you,” Marcy sighed. “I’m already exhausted and the night hasn’t even begun! I don’t have the energy to be the perfect hostess.”

  As Marcy hydrated, I looked her up and down. Her skin hugged her bones tightly. She had little muscle mass as if stress had forced her to skip one too many meals. Her dress went all the way down to her ankles, and it was long-sleeved. Any bruises or marks would be hidden by the fabric.

  “Stay here with me,” I offered, pulling another chair closer to Marcy’s. “Pretend we’re deep in conversation. No one will interrupt us.”

  She laughed lightly and patted my knee. “I wish I could, but I’m the auctioneer tonight. People will literally be interrupting me all night.”

  “Where’s Boyce?” I asked. “Can’t he take over for you?”

  Her face darkened, but she rearranged her slanted eyebrows and thin lips into a convincing smile, and I had to wonder if I’d imagined her previous expression. “Boyce likes to make an entrance once everyone is here. Then he likes to stay in the crowd to interact with the locals.” She checked her watch. “Actually, he should be coming down any minute now.”

  “I’m not in a rush to see him,” I said, perhaps more darkly than I meant to. “I’m comfortable talking to you. Why don’t I see you in town more often? Seems like everyone in Silver Creek is always out and about except for you.”

  “I like to keep to myself.” She avoided my gaze while she replied as if she knew I’d sense she was lying if she looked me in the eye. “Besides, Boyce likes the house to be arranged in a certain way when he gets home.”

  “Bubbles mentioned something like that.”

  Her eyes snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I noticed she was getting hurt, and—”

  Marcy shot up from her chair. “Stay out of our business,” she hissed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m trying to help you—”

  “Don’t!” she spat. “My life is not the subject of gossip and speculation. Stop talking to my daughter if you’re going to fill her head with stories and impossibilities.”

  She stalked off. Simon excused himself from his conversation with Keith and walked over.

  “What was that all about?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth as he watched Marcy greet other guests.

  “She’s scared,” I said. “I told her I know about Boyce’s abuse.”

  “Was that wise?” Simon asked. “After all, we are going to try and kill her husband tonight.”

  I elbowed him in the gut. “We’re not killing anyone. We’re banishing him.”

  “My point is we’re relying on some unknown magical energy to do this so-called banishing,” he reminded me. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, so maybe we shouldn’t agitate his wife.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted her to know she’s not alone.”

  A spotlight clicked on, and the crowd turned to face its point of focus. At the top of an elegant staircase, Boyce stepped into the golden glow. The crowd applauded and cheered as he descended like a princess ready to be presented for her arranged marriage. He shook hands and kissed babies and acted like he was God. Meanwhile, the crowd believed him.

  “So glad you could make it,” he said to Simon and me when he eventually reached us. “Tonight is an important night for us.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I replied. “Which charities are you supporting again, Boyce? Any that I’ve heard of?”

  “All the donations we receive tonight will go toward improving the town,” he said vaguely. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “Can’t wait,” I said acerbically.

  The evening progressed without much interest. For the locals, the charity gala was an excuse to dress up, eat expensive food, and pretend their lives were more interesting than they actually were. For the first time since we had moved to Silver Creek, I spoke to the other people who lived there for more than five minutes.

  “The schools here are fantastic,” a woman named Rooney told me. “I have a twelve-year-old and a fifteen-year-old, and they’re both in the top twenty percent of the national average. They’re practically getting a private education at a public school. Silver Creek is an excellent place to raise children.”

  “I can’t get pregnant,” I said, but for once, the statement wasn’t accompanied by a pang of sadness. “But we might adopt.”

  “You should,” Rooney encouraged. “There are so many children in this world who deserve a loving home. We adopted our youngest because my first pregnancy was so difficult. I wouldn’t do it any other way.”

  I smiled as happiness radi
ated through me. If we got through the night, I’d bring up the adoption discussion to Simon again.

  The night wore on. Marcy auctioned off various prizes, including new washer and dryer sets, fancy coffee makers, valuable antique books, and a set of crystals said to bring luck to the beholder.

  “Sold!” Marcy cried, pointing to me at the back of the crowd. “To the woman in the back with the stunning red dress for two hundred dollars.”

  “Why the hell would you buy that?” Simon muttered in my ear as I grinned triumphantly.

  “Weren’t you listening?” I asked. “Marcy said the crystals belonged to the founder of Silver Creek. That means Boyce probably stole them from Emory or Earl. It’s only right for us to return them to their rightful owners.”

  “Whatever you say,” Simon replied. “I’ll be back. I need the bathroom.”

  “Go quickly,” I said. “It’s almost midnight.”

  As Simon vanished amongst the locals, Boyce stepped up to the microphone on the auction stage. At once, the lights dimmed and the crowd grew quiet.

  “Good evening, Silver Creek,” he boomed. “Thank you all for coming out to this little gathering of mine. As promised, tonight’s main prize is an all-inclusive trip to the Bahamas! Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

  Someone raised their hand, and the final auction began. Confused, I checked the clock. It was almost exactly midnight, but Boyce hadn’t made any attempt to subdue me. Why would he busy himself with the auction when he should be on his way to the Lodge to start the ritual?

  I scanned the room. Most everyone was infatuated with the bidding war, but two people were missing: Simon and Keith.

  The hair rose on the back of my neck. The inaudible whispers tickled my ear.

  They took Simon instead.

  18

  “Max! Hey, Max, wait up!”

  I pushed my way through the crowd and ignored the voice, but Bubbles caught up to me. As I suspected she might, she’d swapped her pink heels for a pair of black combat boots. She grabbed my hand.

  “Bubbles, I can’t talk right now,” I said, rushing for the door. “I think Simon’s in trouble.”