The Restoration

by J. H. Moncrieff

  “Something like what? Euthanize my sister’s beloved pets? In the name of science, obviously. The medical community frowns upon experimenting on human specimens, no matter how enjoyable that may be.” He flashed her that wicked grin again, and she shuddered. She had to get out of there, had to get away from him. If she yelled, would someone hear her? But what if Dallas came instead of Terri? Would he hurt her too? “Also, I despised her.”

  “Henrietta?”

  “No, are you daft? Where is your brain?” He lunged toward her, as if to tap on her skull, but she flinched away from his touch. Now that she understood he could touch her, she didn’t want those hands anywhere near her. Rather than appear offended, he laughed. “Emma. These are her pets. Or, at least, they were her pets. You should have seen her face as each one disappeared. She would mope around for weeks. It was something to see.”

  All this time, she’d believed Henrietta was the target of his loathing, and he’d let her believe it. “Why would you hate Emma?” She was curious, but mostly, she was stalling for time, trying to think of a way out.

  “Who wouldn’t hate Emma?” His face contorted into a sneer, and Gertrude suspected this was the Niles that Terri had seen before he attacked her. “Darling, perfect Emma. So good at everything, so capable. Never ill a day in her life. Ran the family business from atop her horse, while saving the world’s homeless animals without a hair falling out of place. Who could help but loathe her?”

  “She was your sister, Niles.” She sought for his humanity, though it was like looking for light underground.

  “Correct, she was my sister. If I could have fucked her, she would have had some value.”

  Gertrude’s eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat.

  “Is my language too rude for you, my love? I apologize. Forgive me, but she was a handsome woman, and I was trapped inside this dreadful house. A man has needs.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “Molest her? Sadly not. Her death was a tad messy for my taste. Difficult to ravage a woman whilst her brains are leaking from her skull.”

  She cringed at the image. Poor Emma. All his sister had done to inspire such hatred was to be exceptional, and kind. “What did you do to her?”

  “I did not do a thing to her. Did you not hear? My darling sister perished in a horse-riding accident.” He laid his hand on his forehead and sighed, lifting his gaze heavenward in a parody of grief. “It was a tragedy. This family shall never recover.”

  “Emma was an accomplished equestrian. I don’t believe her death was an accident.” She always had believed it, but not anymore. Not since she’d found the woman’s brain in a jar in her twisted brother’s version of a laboratory.

  “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Now you’re using that pretty noggin of yours. But you don’t have all the answers yet. I have revealed my great secret to you, and you believe that it’s the solution to everything, but it’s not. There is more to the Vandermere family than you could ever fathom.”

  “What are you saying, Niles?”

  “I am saying think, you silly woman. Think. Do you truly believe that all the blood shed by this family is upon my hands? I was quite ill, remember. I did the best I could with the energy I had, but it was never enough. No, never quite enough.”

  “So you didn’t kill Emma…” she said slowly, trying to process what he was saying. “If that’s true, why do you have her brain?”

  “Perhaps I should give it to you, so you could acquire some desperately needed intelligence.” His fingers reached for her again, and she backed away, but she could feel his touch against her face. “I weary of this conversation. I thought you were bright enough to understand, but clearly you are not. I’ve spoken enough. It’s time for other things.”

  The thought of what those ‘other things’ might be filled her with dread. Gertrude scanned the crawl space for a way out, but Niles blocked her only exit. She might be able to squeeze into the nook under the stairs, but then she would be completely trapped. And Lord only knows what was hidden there.

  “You’re not the type of lady I’m attracted to, to be fair,” he said, closing the distance between them. “However, in my current situation, it doesn’t pay to be too selective. Other ladies do not tend to last long.”

  Gertrude’s mind whirled, remembering all the times female employees had abandoned them, failing to show up for work soon after they were hired. They didn’t return phone calls and changed their email addresses. It had become such a problem that Henrietta had insisted on hiring men as much as possible. Men were the only ones who had stayed, aside from her, of course. Gertrude the fool. “What did you do to them, Niles?”

  “You’ll soon find out, my lady.” Baring his teeth, he lunged at her. She dodged him, shoving him away with all her strength, but her hands pushed through air. “You amuse me,” he said, laughing. “This is good sport.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “In a delightful way.”

  When he went for her again, she closed her eyes and willed all her hatred for him into her right hand. She felt his touch on her breast and without looking, she put everything she had into a single punch and let it fly. This time, her hand made contact with something, and the feeling of his fingers on her vanished.

  She dared to look. He held his nose, glaring at her. “How did you do that?”

  Keeping her voice steady, she said, “If you can touch me, I can touch you.”

  “Oh, I will do more than touch you, my love.” His hand shot out, and she dodged again, but it wasn’t her he was after this time. He grabbed a shelf, and Gertrude understood what he meant to do too late.

  With a single tug, he brought the entire thing down upon her, all his carefully constructed shelving, all the glass jars with their ghastly contents. The thought of their slimy, long-dead bodies sparked new panic in her. She tried her best to run, but she tripped on the edge of the raised threshold and went down, the shelves trapping her underneath them.

  No….

  A silent scream was the most she could manage before the sharp, acrid tang of formaldehyde assaulted her senses. One of the largest glass jars, which contained a skinless dog that had once answered to the name of Rex, crashed against her skull.

  All was silent.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was just a dream.

  A dream brought on by reading the journal before bed. Emma’s fear, so perfectly expressed, had become her own.

  But she knew it wasn’t that simple.

  Somehow, the spirit of Emma Vandermere had shown Terri the truth of her death, and it had been more terrible than she could have imagined.

  What now? What does one do when the nightmares are real? Who was ever going to believe her?

  At that moment, she felt an unexpected kinship with Gertrude. Gertrude would believe her. Even though she’d hoped never to lay eyes on the woman again, or so much as hear her name, perhaps they could figure out what to do together. She had to do something. She couldn’t go on, quietly restoring this house, knowing what she knew.

  Then Terri heard something that made her give up on the idea of sleeping that night for good.

  A tremendous crash, echoing through the house, sounding far away.

  The scream was a lot closer.

  Dallas.

  Tossing the duvet aside, Terri sucked in her breath as the freezing air hit her bare legs. The room was like an icebox. She grabbed her robe from the bed and pulled it on, tying the belt tightly around her waist as she ran for her daughter’s room.

  “Dallas?”

  “Mom?” She sounded as if she’d been crying. “Hurry!”

  The white porcelain doorknob was slick with frost. Terri’s hand slipped when she tried to turn it. Her fingers burned from the cold. Covering her hand with fabric from her robe, she tried again, gritting her teeth. The terry cloth prov
ided the friction she needed to open it.

  Terri stopped short, gaping at the ghoulish scene in her daughter’s room.

  “Who would do this, Mom?” Dallas cried, her small face streaked with tears. “Why would anyone do this?”

  “I don’t know, honey.”

  But she did know. Of course she did.

  Rufus, her daughter’s beloved teddy bear, hung suspended from the ceiling, a noose around his neck. His button eyes stared back at her, looking confused about how he’d found himself in this situation. The prank, if that’s what it was intended to be, was cruel and heartless and had Niles written all over it.

  She hoped it wasn’t intended as a warning.

  She removed the little bear from the noose and handed him to her daughter, who crushed him to her chest, sobbing. Dallas had cherished Rufus from infancy, and his symbolic murder had affected her like few things could. Terri cursed Niles under her breath, craning her neck to see how the noose had been attached to the light fixture. She’d need a ladder to get it down, and she didn’t have it in her at the moment. But there was no way in hell she was leaving her daughter in a room with a noose hanging from the ceiling.

  Terri held out her hand. “You’re staying with me, at least for tonight. Come on.”

  Scrambling to her side, Dallas clung to her, weeping. There was no argument this time, no concerns about establishing her independence. Her little girl needed her again.

  Once they were safely in her room, Terri barred the door with a chair. Noticing Dallas staring at the cross-stitched aphorism on the wall, Terri took it down and tossed it in a closet. Prepare to meet thy god, indeed.

  “See? We’ll be fine in here for what’s left of the night,” she said with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “I don’t think anywhere in this house is safe.” Dallas shivered, and her teeth chattered so loudly Terri could hear them.

  “No, you’re probably right, but this is as good as it gets.” She ushered her daughter into bed, pulling the duvet and then an afghan over her and Rufus. Checking her phone, she saw that it was half past one. Too late to call Henrietta and tell her they were leaving; too late to call Gertrude and let her know what happened to Emma.

  She shuddered, recalling how the woman had felt at the moment of her death. What had it been like to be Emma in that house? Beautiful, accomplished, intelligent. Sane and compassionate. A flower in a yard of weeds. If only she’d moved, left the country for study or some other adventure. If she had, she’d probably have enjoyed a long life. Married, most likely, and had children of her own. In those days, any children would have carried Emma’s husband’s name, and that was all right. The more she learned about the Vandermere family, the more she was convinced it was a name that needed to die out.

  “We’re not staying, are we?”

  “No, we’re not staying.” That she was sure of. After her dream – vision – of Emma’s murder, she couldn’t imagine spending another day in that house.

  “But what about the money? We need it, right?”

  Terri patted her daughter’s hand under the covers. “We do, but we’ll figure something out.”

  “Are we going to be homeless?” Dallas’s face looked so concerned that it would have been comical if she hadn’t been so close to the truth.

  “Of course not. That’s nothing you have to worry about.” I hope.

  “Niles is evil, isn’t he?” Dallas lowered her voice to a near-whisper. Thankfully, since they were in a servant’s room, there was no speaking tube. That didn’t mean he wasn’t eavesdropping, but it made her feel more secure all the same.

  “Yes, I believe so.” Her scratches were faint enough now that no one would notice them unless they knew to look for them, but she’d never forget the snarl on his face when he’d attacked her. Or how he’d smirked when he’d thrown the snake at Emma’s horse. There was no question who had hanged Rufus, either.

  “I thought he was my friend. I can’t believe I trusted him.” Her daughter’s lower lip trembled, and Terri put an arm around her.

  “It’s not a bad thing to trust people. Thankfully, you’ll meet very few people like Niles in your life. He’s a special case.”

  If he was this bad as a ghost, what had he been like when he was alive? It was a disturbing thought. The diabetes had probably been the only thing that prevented him from racking up a large body count.

  Holding her daughter, Terri remembered the crash that had shook the house and startled her from her non-sleep. “Dallas, did you hear anything strange tonight? It was loud, sounded like a lot of glass breaking. It happened right before you screamed.”

  She shook her head. “No, but maybe that’s what woke me up. I’m not sure why I woke up. My eyes just opened, and I saw this weird shape in the dark, and—”

  “It’s okay. Don’t think about it. It’s not important.”

  But it was. Terri was sure of it. The urge to go downstairs and investigate, to see what had caused that thunderous crash, was strong.

  However, it would have to wait. There was no way in hell she was going down there until morning.

  * * *

  Her eyes fluttered open. Shades of gray and pink blurred in front of her.

  Don’t look, a voice in her mind said, so she didn’t.

  Then the smell hit her. It was the worst stench she’d ever smelled, so foul it made her gag. Every choking cough made her head hurt terribly.

  Where was she? What had happened to her?

  The longer she was aware, the more parts of her hurt. Her back ached something awful, and her legs burned like they were on fire. She tried to move, tried to pull away from whatever was hurting her, but an inch or two was the most she could manage. It felt like a boulder was on her legs and back, pinning her in place.

  Closing her eyes and breathing from her mouth, Gertrude slowly stretched out her arms, relieved they still worked. She reached as far as she could, and then lowered them until her fingers touched the ground. One of her hands hit something cold and slimy, and she jerked away, gasping.

  Don’t look, the voice reminded her, so she didn’t.

  She tried again, and this time, touched only dirt. It was packed down hard enough to feel like stone, but under the other awful odors, she could smell its earthiness. She pressed her nose to it and inhaled deeply.

  Hooking her fingers into the ground, she attempted to pull herself forward, away from whatever was holding her in that dreadful place. All she wanted to do was rest, but her instincts were shrieking at her that, wherever this was, it wasn’t safe. She needed to get away.

  The smell alone told her that.

  Using just her arms would not work. Whatever held her lower body was too strong. Gritting her teeth to keep from screaming, she wiggled like a snake, moving her hips back and forth as she strained her fingers, fighting to get purchase on the packed earth.

  She couldn’t do it the first time. Or the second. Or even the third. Sweat dotted her forehead even though she was freezing, and many times she was tempted to give up, lay her cheek against the ground and rest. But she understood that if she did, she might never raise her head again. Slowly, she began to move forward.

  * * *

  A loud pounding from downstairs startled Terri awake. For a second, she forgot where she was, and then she saw Dallas snuggled into the crook of her arm, fast asleep and cuddling Rufus.

  There were no windows in the room, so it was impossible to tell what time it was. Stretching as much as she could without moving her body, she felt for her phone, trying her best not to wake her daughter.

  Six a.m.

  The pounding noise started up again, making her jump. It was definitely coming from the front door, and from the sound of it, whoever it was wanted to break it down. Who would be at the door at this hour of the morning?

  Bang-bang-bang
. “Open up,” an angry male voice bellowed. “Police!”

  Police? For a second, she wondered if they were there about Emma, but that was ridiculous. It’s not like they could have read her mind. Or the diary.

  Reluctantly disentangling herself from Dallas, she put on her robe.

  “What’s going on, Mom?”

  Bang-bang-bang.

  “I’m not sure. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

  Her uninvited guests continued to sound like they were going to bust the door in as she raced down the hallway toward them, trying her best not to trip and break her neck. Thankfully, she had taken care to clear her tools and supplies away from the entrance each evening, so it remained unobstructed, no matter what stage of the restoration she was in.

  Cursing the lack of a peephole or chain, Terri opened the door to find two large, visibly irritated men glaring down at her. “Is Miss Vandermere here?” one demanded. He edged a foot towards the entrance, which unnerved her. What the heck was going on? Why were they acting like she’d committed a crime?

  “No, I’m Terri. Terri Foxworth. Miss Vandermere owns this house, but she doesn’t live here. She’s hired me to do some restoration work.”

  The same cop stared pointedly at her. “But you are living here?”

  “Only temporarily.” And not for much longer.

  “Ms. Foxworth, do you recognize this woman?”

  The other cop handed her a photograph, which Terri squinted at, wishing she had her glasses. Her vision was never up to par in the morning these days. The photograph was terribly out of date, and she suspected it had been taken when the woman was in high school. Still, there was no question who it was.

  “Yes, that’s Gertrude.”

  The officers glanced at each other. Great, now knowing Gertrude was a crime. Not that she actually knew her, of course. Just enough to fight with her and throw her out of the house and—

  Oh shit.

  “What’s this about? Is she okay?”

  “That’s what we’re hoping you could tell us,” the gruff cop – the one who succeeded in making her feel naked in her nightgown and robe – said. “She didn’t come home from work this morning.”