The House of Canted Steps

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The House of Canted Steps Page 18

by Gary Fry


  As Nina climbed out of bed and followed Mark into the hallway, she looked hesitant. Her hair was shaggy and her nightgown hung askew at her knees. Then she asked in a clearheaded voice, “Do you think I should?”

  “Should what?”

  “Well, have a drink…in my condition.”

  “One won’t harm, surely,” he replied, and had to nudge aside the disquieting idea that these weren’t his own thoughts, that something inside him was trying to damage his unborn child…But then he added, “This way the little one will get a taste of the quality of life he or she has to come.”

  “Ah…okay,” she said, but then quickly changed her mind. “No, actually, I won’t. But you go ahead and drink for both of us. I’ve been hitting the gin quite a lot this week, but that’s because I thought I was ill. I went to the doctor yesterday and he confirmed what I’d half-suspected. It must have been one night when my contraception failed, Mark—perhaps after we went to Gayle and Justin’s party. The alcohol I drank might have caused the pill not to work. I was sick in the bathroom later; I didn’t tell you that. You were asleep. And I’d forgotten all about it the day after. I…can’t understand it. I rarely drink that much. Maybe the awkward atmosphere at their…house made me rely more on booze—I don’t know.”

  Mark didn’t want to entertain that possibility, and then had an opportunity to evade the issue altogether. His son had rushed forward to hand Mark’s girlfriend—the boy’s future step-mom, without question—the present he’d insisted they bring back from the coast.

  “Hey, is that for me?” Nina asked.

  “Yep. It’s a special creature. You put it in your house and it stops evil monsters getting you.”

  “Let’s think about that later, champ,” Mark interrupted, uncorking the champagne with a hollow pop and a frisky hiss of foam. Having removed a glass from the cupboard above the sink, he poured himself a much-needed measure, knocked it back in a single gulp, and then dispensed with formalities by slurping directly from the bottle.

  Minutes later, they were all on the couch together. Alcohol cavorted in Mark’s mind, and then, with Nina’s permission—granted by a single intuitive glance from her—he told Lewis that he’d soon have another brother or sister. His son appeared confused or shocked, but after realizing what this meant—that Nina was going to get a big belly like his mommy had at the moment—he smiled and replied, “That’s greeeat!”

  And so they were destined to become two happy, uncorrupted stepfamilies. While visiting his ex-wife and Justin tomorrow, Mark would persuade them to see sense about their new home. Indeed, right now, he considered any task within his capabilities.

  He’d won. The House of Blood had lost.

  Mark threw one hand up in triumph.

  And that was when the telephone rang.

  23

  “Hello?”

  “Mark.”

  “Yes. Who’s that?”

  “Justin.”

  “Ah yes, hello there. How are you?” He’d even forgiven the man who’d torn apart his previous life, and sincerely believed this was more than booze skewing his perceptions. “How’s Gayle?”

  “It’s started.”

  In his peripheral vision, Mark saw Nina and his son talking together, uninterested in the phone call; maybe they thought the speaker was a work colleague. Struggling to control a swimming sensation in his skull, Mark asked, “What has? You’re not making much sense, fella.”

  “The baby.”

  Mark gripped the handset with a stiffer hand. “You mean…she’s in labor?”

  “Yes.”

  The talk behind him ceased.

  “And have you called an ambulance?” Mark added.

  “Yes.”

  For God’s sake, man, show a little excitement, won’t you?

  But then Mark’s willfully sober side said, “Tell me what you want me…I mean, us to do.”

  “Gayle wants Lewis here,” Justin replied, his tone as flat as when he’d first spoken after Mark had answered the phone. He must be anxious. Mark could remember when Lewis had been born; he’d been terrified.

  But there was one issue to clarify. “Hold on, if you’ve called an ambulance, why does she want him there?”

  “To be present at the birth.”

  “Yes, I know that. I mean, why there as opposed to the hospital?”

  “Too late. It has to be a home delivery. Goodbye.”

  And Justin hung up.

  Everything about the call had seemed odd, as if the gregarious man’s speech had been somehow compromised. Mark first considered the property from which the communication had come and how it had caused his ex-wife’s lover to behave more brashly than normal yesterday. Then he recalled the choking sounds he’d heard from the place’s cellar…but that was one speculation too many, particularly in his drink-enfeebled state. He put down the handset and turned to his son and girlfriend.

  “That was Justin,” he said, looking at Lewis and then at Nina. “The baby’s coming. It’s premature.”

  Something about this declaration troubled Mark, but there was no time to mull it over, because that was when his son leapt off the couch and lurched his way.

  “Daddy, I want to be there! Mommy said I should be there!”

  “I know, I know,” Mark replied, and could scarcely rebuke the boy for wanting to be present when his future sibling—a person he’d grow to love—was born. Mark glanced again at his girlfriend and said, “I’d better take him.”

  “You’ve been drinking,” Nina replied, but didn’t appear envious or whatever other failing of his own he’d projected onto her the previous evening. She was actually full of compassion. “I’ll drive you there.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Daddy, Daddy, she does. She does.”

  “Yes, don’t be stubborn, Mark. If you lose your licence, you’ll lose your job. And soon you’ll have two children to provide for, won’t you?” After patting her belly, she finished, “Just think of this as me being selfish.”

  She smiled and moments later fled along the hall passage, presumably to get dressed.

  Several uneasy thoughts had now returned to Mark, and he quickly stooped to his giddy son.

  “When we get to that…when we get to your house, Lewis, I want you to stay with me, okay?” The champagne seemed to fizz in his skull, but he somehow held his thoughts together and added, “Things are going to be very hectic inside; there’ll be ambulance people and Justin and Nina and…and…Well, whatever happens, I need you to promise to remain in sight. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes, Daddy! Yes, we do! Now let’s go!”

  “Right, I’m ready,” Nina said, reappearing after changing in the bedroom in less than a minute.

  Mark struggled for a moment to recall where he’d put his car keys, but then remembered. He hurried through to the entrance hall, snatched his jacket from a peg, removed the keys from one pocket, handed the set to Nina, and finally opened the door to let them all exit the flat.

  He was about to return to The House of Canted Steps and was now accompanied by the two people he loved most in the world. Mark couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or frustrated about being mildly intoxicated, because two terrible thoughts had just assailed him.

  He’d imagined that the building had contrived this situation.

  Worse, he was convinced it now had everybody exactly where it wanted them.

  24

  The dashboard digital clock read 9:30 by the time Nina pulled the car into the main roads of Hantley. With half-intoxicated logic, Mark figured out that Gayle would probably have been watching TV when she experienced her water breaking, her baby beginning its complicated journey into this bittersweet life. He tried not to think of her suffering a fright at the house’s whim. There was no use adding to the problems he’d face after arriving. The circumstances of this visit were daunting enough.

  Why had Justin sounded so formal over the phone? Maybe, in such a private situation, he’d rese
nted having to call his partner’s ex-husband. Mark could certainly understand Justin not wanting him present during the birth of his child. But Mark had pledged not to allow Lewis to reenter the property without him and he planned to hold to that. Justin could either accept this or face the consequences. He already knew what Mark was capable of when roused.

  Mark now found himself feeling violent again. Maybe the alcohol in his blood was stoking this mood, but that was another notion he forcefully suppressed. As his girlfriend took a corner and entered the long road from which Nester Street branched, he attempted to achieve the rational state of mind the imminent visit would demand.

  He hoped the new baby would be healthy and realized this was not a feigned attitude. Mark believed he’d matured lately, and that was a good thing. He’d soon have another child of his own to deal with, and he was determined not to make the same mistakes he had with his firstborn.

  In the car’s side mirror, Mark saw his son sitting in the rear, looking on between the front seats. He was such a fine boy. Whatever mysterious forces dictated personality—imponderable genes or ineffable stars—had certainly favored Mark and Gayle when Lewis had been born. They’d been very lucky. As the car rounded a final bend, Mark hoped he and Nina, as well as his ex-wife and Justin, would be every bit as fortunate. They all deserved that. Mark had recently learned that a family could turn out to be a place of woe, but only because it could also be a haven. And whether its members were natural-born or step-related, it was decency, understanding, and most of all love that determined the way life turned out. Even in Mark’s current drunken state, he understood that well.

  But now up ahead stood a thing that believed something quite different: The House of Canted Steps.

  Nina pulled the car into the curbside a few yards from the property’s driveway. Mark wondered why she’d left a gap between them and the entrance, but then realized she was leaving room for the ambulance to park when it finally arrived.

  At that moment, Lewis opened the back door on Mark’s side and clambered out. Just as the boy was about to run towards the driveway, Mark stopped him by opening his door and climbing outside. Something clattered on the pavement as he did so, but it was too dark to see what this had been. In any case, he now had his son to deal with.

  “Hey, not so fast, mate. What did I tell you about staying with me?”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Lewis replied, brushing hair away from his face, which moonlight had turned grey far too early in life. “But we need to hurry.”

  Nina had also now exited the vehicle. Still holding his son by one arm, Mark glanced at her. “Might it better if you two waited in the car, at least until I’ve had a chance to see what’s happening in the house?”

  The place to which he referred stood dark and silent at the head of the driveway; its foreboding presence had surely put this protective thought into Mark’s mind.

  But it was quickly refused.

  “No, Daddy, no,” said his son.

  “We might be able to help,” added his girlfriend.

  Mark had no choice but to concede to this outvoting, and then, in a haphazard line fronted by the boy, they all began pacing up the garden path and beyond the Porsche, which looked nowhere near as implacable as the building towering way above it.

  Once they’d reached the property, Mark realized that although he’d brought its spare key, he wouldn’t require it this time. Nevertheless, courtesy persuaded him to at least knock at the door. And he was about to do so when he noticed that Lewis was having none of such protocol. The boy reached out to turn the door handle before pushing to enter.

  But the door didn’t budge. It was clearly locked.

  This was odd. Mark’s son clearly shared the feeling, glancing up with his eyes narrowed and forehead creased.

  “How come they’ve locked it, Daddy?” he asked, and Mark was unable to come up with even a half-convincing reply.

  While moving towards the house minutes earlier, he’d noticed that all the curtains had been pulled on and that only one light had been burning, in the lounge beside the entrance. Mark paced quickly that way, forcing Nina to step aside and let him to access the window. In the middle of the bay’s curve was a tiny crack between heavy drapes hanging down with luxurious sleekness. Mark pressed his nose to the glass, closed one eye, and looked through this opportune gap.

  Justin was there, standing in a room that flickered with low light. Either the television out of view in one corner was on or an expensive-looking lamp had developed a fault. In the uncertain gloom, Gayle’s new lover looked sinister, his face a pale mask of indifference. The scar on one temple—the injury Mark had caused—made him appear dangerous. But what was he gazing at?

  Mark adjusted his posture to glance into the house at a sharper angle. Then he noticed, to Justin’s right, a figure lying in a reclining armchair. This was Mark’s ex-wife, and she struggled with her breathing. Her arms were clutched around her swollen belly and a trickle of water had run onto the leather seat on which she was perched…At least Mark thought this liquid was clear. But the faulty light intermittently rendered it much redder than that.

  He felt a familiar pressure of the building’s influence pressing against his mind. Just then, he wanted to hurt Justin, mainly because the man appeared to be doing nothing to alleviate Gayle’s discomfort. Moments later, in response to his son’s cry of, “What’s the matter, Daddy?” and Nina’s insistent gaze, Mark returned to the front door…but then experienced a terrible thought.

  “Hey, where’s the ambulance?” he asked in a loud voice, and in many ways believed he was addressing the property. “The hospital is closer to here than our flat, and we had to stop for traffic lights. So where is it?”

  But he already knew the answer: Justin hadn’t called for one. The House of Blood was controlling the man…and for what nefarious purpose?

  But that didn’t matter at this stage. It was more important to gain access to the building as soon as possible. Uncharacteristic rage was about to force Mark to kick open the door, but then he remembered the key in his wallet. God knew what his girlfriend would think when he produced this, but that was something else he’d have to worry about later. He must act quickly.

  He removed his wallet, produced the key, unlocked the door, and then crept into the unilluminated hallway.

  Despite looking surprised at what his daddy had done, Lewis tried to hurry past him as they headed for the lounge. But Mark reached out to prevent the boy from overtaking him. His son struggled in his hands, started crying a little, and seemed to possess a strength that exceeded his small frame. This made Mark wonder whether the building could infect anyone who entered it. Had it grown stronger lately? Mark had to resist the temptation to lose his patience and charge through the doorway ahead to confront Justin again. Instead, he tried marshalling his thoughts.

  By manipulating its owner, perhaps the house found it more difficult to control everyone else inside it. Maybe it was a good thing that Nina had also come along: the more ways they could divide the property’s attention, the better chance they’d have of defeating it. His girlfriend still appeared shocked by Mark’s use of the key, but he eventually got her to take hold of Lewis. The boy writhed in an atypically aggressive manner until she calmed him with a hug.

  Then, without hesitation, Mark hurried through to the lounge. And looked.

  Justin loomed over his new partner, his facial expression laden with shadows cast by a lamp that crackled with static. Gayle was gasping in the armchair, her legs held aloft by a hoisted front panel, which had turned it into a makeshift bed. She opened and closed her eyes, clearly in pain, and when she detected Mark’s arrival—by either the sounds of his entry or her distress-sharpened vision—she glanced at her lover and then back at Mark. Then she spoke.

  “Help…me. He’s…gone mad…or…something. He…won’t phone…the…hospital. You call them, Mark. You call…now.”

  He certainly would. He scrabbled in his jacket pocket for his mobile. Bu
t it wasn’t there. Then he recalled something falling on the pavement after he’d exited the car and now understood what that had been: his phone.

  Had this been the house at work again, its influence extending beyond its grounds on a second occasion in Mark’s experience? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. But although the property conspired with his ex-wife’s lover by cutting out the lights every few seconds, it had yet to strip the place of all power. The landline telephone would surely work. Mark saw it perched on a cabinet to his left and immediately moved that way, hitched up the receiver, dialed, and placed the receiver to his ear.

  It was dead.

  He gazed down at the wire running towards a jack-plug in one corner. It had been cleanly severed with what must have been a sharp blade.

  “Mark, look out!” Nina called, having entered the lounge while still holding his son.

  And Mark was about to glance back at them when he saw Justin darting towards him, wielding a large knife.

  Gayle cried out in agony.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Mark asked his assailant, but now knew for certain what the problem was: the building had infected him, and might even be trying to legitimize this attack as revenge for Mark’s similar assault the other night…But that didn’t make sense. Mark realized the property was wilier than this. Pushing the man away and causing him to stumble on a rug, Mark refined his impromptu theory. Now he believed that the house was trying to show his ex-wife what kind of a partner she’d chosen, in the hope of separating them and leaving Mark, Gayle and Lewis free to…

 

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