Moving In (Moving In Series Book 1)

by Ron Ripley

  “Yes,” the boy said, nodding. “Yes, I certainly am.”

  “What?” Frank asked. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted you to come over here.” the boy said, stopping a few feet away from Frank.

  “Why?” Frank said, feeling confused. Fear started to ripple through him as he remembered that Leo hadn’t wanted him to cross the road.

  Leo had wanted him to stay with the car. Frank took a cautious step back.

  The smile on the boy’s face seemed to get bigger

  “Don’t walk away,” the strange boy said softly, taking a step closer. “I need you to send a message to my friends inside.”

  Frank swallowed nervously. He should have stayed in the car. There was something wrong with the boy. Something terribly wrong.

  “What message?” Frank managed to ask.

  “I’ll tell you,” the boy whispered, and he stepped forward, hand outstretched.

  When the boy’s hand touched Frank’s arm a terrible, biting cold raced through him, and Frank struggled not to scream.

  Just as Frank took his last breath, the boy leaned in close so that he could whisper in Frank’s ear.

  “This is my message,” Paul hissed.

  Chapter 27: Paul’s Message to his Friends

  In the parlor, Brian sat beside Jenny on the sofa and Sam sat on the ladder-back chair. The fire he had started in the hearth was just beginning to throw warmth out into the room. They could hear Leo now moving around on the second floor having finished with the attic.

  There had been yelling, and things crashing. Brian had even heard the sound of breaking glass from both the attic and from outside.

  None of them wanted to disturb the curious man as he worked, and, quite frankly, since Brian couldn’t see any of the ghosts when they didn’t want to be seen, he really didn’t want to be in striking distance if one of them got upset and lashed out in his direction.

  Brian had enough of such things when the light exploded in his office earlier.

  For the first time since they had moved out of the city, he took out his bottle of nitroglycerine pills and popped one into his mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Jenny asked.

  Brian shook his head. “No. This place is really stressing me out.”

  “We’ll pack some stuff up once he’s done then,” Jenny said, “and we’ll stay at my mom’s for a couple of days. Let Leo do his thing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

  “Bad ticker,” Brian said, tapping his chest. “I’ve had two heart attacks already. My doctor is pretty sure that the third will do me in.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Brian opened his mouth to reply when a heavy knock on the front door cut him off.

  The three of them looked in unison out into the hallway.

  Another knock followed, heavier and harder than the first. It was quickly followed by a third, and then a fourth, each of them stronger than the last. The entire house seemed to shake as the pounding continued.

  Brian stood up, worked his jaw nervously and walked to the doorway of the parlor, staying just behind the line of salt. He looked at the front door and watched it shake in its frame with each blow.

  The noise ceased suddenly. There was a thump on the porch.

  Brian stepped out of the parlor.

  “Babe,” Jenny said. “Where are you going?”

  “I think something’s on the porch,” he answered.

  “Hold on,” she said.

  Brian stood in the hallway and glanced over as Jenny and Sam came out into the hall with him. Brian walked to the front door and opened it.

  A man’s body lay on the floor, twisted in the curious way that let Brian know the man wasn’t sleeping or passed out. There was no way to mistake it, especially since the man’s head was nothing more than a bloody pulp with yellowish bone and gray brain exposed to the world.

  At the bottom of the stairs, outside in the snow, however, stood Paul Kenyon.

  He was smiling proudly, like a cat having delivered a dead bird for the family.

  “Hello, Sam!” Paul said, his voice cheerful. “I’m still here, you know.”

  “I know,” Sam said in a low voice.

  “And Brian,” Paul grinned. “You pulled a pretty neat trick with that chain. I did not see that coming. And is that your wife; is that Jenny? She’s pretty, Brian.”

  Jenny said nothing as she slipped her hand into Brian’s and squeezed.

  “You’re - you’re all here,” Paul said. “But there’s a stranger in my house, and he’s taking my friends and family away.”

  Paul’s demeanor suddenly changed, and Jenny shivered as she saw the evil innocence in his eyes.

  “You bring Leonidas Moreland outside to me,” Paul snapped. “Take his damned little book away from him, too. If you don’t, I’ll make you miserable. You’ll never leave this place. You’ll starve to death, slow and steady.”

  Suddenly Paul smiled. “Of course, then you’ll get to stay with me forever. And that will be so much fun. Either way, Leonidas Moreland dies.”

  Silence fell over all of them. Brian could hear the snowflakes falling in the silence that followed.

  Paul suddenly smiled again. “Bring him soon!” And then he skipped away laughing into the night.

  Brian sighed, closed the door and walked back to the parlor. He sat down in his own chair while Jenny went to her chair and Sam sat down on the sofa.

  Sam took out his pipe and his tobacco pouch. Brian watched the man pack the pipe, light it, and sit back, staring at the hallway.

  After a moment, Sam let out a long stream of smoke, watched it curl up towards the tin ceiling. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not overly keen on that little boy anymore,” he said.

  Brian and Jenny could only nod their agreement.

  Chapter 28: Leo on the Second Floor

  Leo had just managed to talk a frightened middle-aged hiker into the book when he heard a rustling behind him.

  “Leo,” a very familiar voice said.

  Leo straightened up and turned around. No, not you.

  It was Frank.

  “I’m sorry, Leo,” Frank said.

  “So am I,” Leo said. He gave Frank a small smile. “This is what I was concerned about. You should have stayed in the cab.”

  Frank shrugged. “Did you hear the banging downstairs?”

  Leo shook his head.

  “Of course not,” Frank chuckled. “A kid got me, can you believe that, Leo, a kid. He also told them downstairs that he wants you to come out. He sent me up here to tell you the same thing.”

  “I am not surprised. Will you enter the book, Frank?”

  Leo opened Macbeth and looked at the taxi driver.

  Frank nodded. “See you around, Leo.”

  “Goodbye, Frank.”

  Frank slipped away into mist and Leo closed the book. More ghosts waited on the second floor, but the boy needed to be dealt with.

  Pocketing the book, Leo left the room and made his way downstairs. He found Brian, the woman, and the older man standing in the hallway by the front door. All three of them looked dazed and slightly shocked.

  Brian looked over at Leo.

  “There’s a body on the porch,” Brian said.

  “I know,” Leo said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “That was my taxi driver, Frank. He told me what happened. Apparently, the boy, Paul wants to see me.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Sam warned.

  “Of course, he is,” Leo responded. “But Paul is not the worst of them.”

  “Are you serious?” said Jenny.

  “Of course,” Leo said. “Excuse me, it would be rude to keep him waiting.”

  The trio moved away from the door, to let the strange little man pass.

  Leo went to the door, opened it and stepped outside. He ignored Frank’s remains, and looked around the yard and saw the boy standing beneath a tree.

  “Hello,�
� Leo said, walking down the stairs.

  “Hi!” Paul waved. He walked towards Leo. “I’m so happy you came outside like you were asked.”

  “So am I,” Leo said. “Why did you wish to see me?”

  “I’ve never met anyone that can see me when I don’t want to be seen,” the boy said, looking at Leo. “Are there many like you?”

  Leo shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. I don’t speak with the living very often.”

  “They’re not very nice. Especially grown-ups.”

  “What do you have to say?” Leo asked.

  “That you need to leave,” Paul warned coldly.

  “I won’t,” Leo said.

  “Good,” the boy laughed. “This is going to be so much fun. I normally make my grandfather run everywhere. He tries to stop me from having fun.”

  “He doesn’t like your fun,” Leo said, glancing over the boy’s shoulder. Paul’s uncle stood watching, marking his sad vigil.

  “Nope.”

  “Is that why he’s watching you now?” Leo asked.

  The boy turned around and waved.

  “Yes,” the boy said, turning back to Leo. “He’s worried that I’m going to hurt you.”

  “You could always try.”

  “I want to,” the boy said with a sigh, “but the big chief wants to see you, so I really can’t.”

  “Will you bring me to your ‘big chief?’”

  Paul nodded.

  Leo turned and looked at the others who still stood in the doorway, watching “I’ll be back. Close the door and seal yourselves in.”

  In the cold, still air, Leo could hear it click shut.

  In his mind, Leo heard the ticking of a clock. It wasn’t a real clock, but one in his head. Just a simple alarm clock like his grandmother had once had, a folding alarm clock that could be tucked away in a green leather case. A clock that reminded him of midnight’s approach.

  He wouldn’t be home.

  He wouldn’t be home.

  Tonight would not end well.

  He had little more than two hours to finish the job.

  “Lead the way, please,” Leo said. “I will follow.”

  Chapter 29: Under Attack

  When Brian locked the door, Jenny and Sam walked back to the parlor. Brian followed a moment later and put another log on the fire. Outside the wind picked up, rattling the window in its frame, and a glance out of it showed the snowfall was heavier.

  A storm was coming.

  Brian hoped it wasn’t some sort of omen.

  Brian’s stomach rumbled unpleasantly and clenched, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I’m going to grab something to eat, anyone else hungry?”

  Both Jenny and Sam shook their heads.

  “Babe,” Jenny said, “shouldn’t you stay in here? Leo didn’t want us leaving the parlor.”

  “I’ll be okay. It’s our house. Anyway, I’ll be right back,” Brian said. He left the parlor, eyeing the basement door nervously but feeling a little better since Leo had been working his tricks in the house. Brian wondered how many of the ghosts the man had managed to convince to leave.

  Hopefully all of them, he thought.

  He reached the kitchen, avoided the shards of broken glass which would have to be cleaned up later, and went to the pantry. The pantry was huge, bigger than some walk-in closets that Brian had seen. He and Jenny hadn’t really been able to stock it to their liking, but there was some food in it, including the protein bars that he and Jenny enjoyed eating.

  Turning on the light, Brian pulled a bar out, opened it and -

  The door slammed closed.

  The bulb suddenly shattered and Brian was plunged into darkness.

  Something slammed into Brian, thrusting him back into the shelves. He grunted, pain exploding in his back. Blows landed against his head, vicious, horrific strikes that left his ears ringing.

  Brian stumbled a step forward and was shoved from behind, bouncing him off the shelves across from him. He fell to his knees and an involuntary scream ripped out of his mouth as shards of the broken bulb cut through his pants, digging deep into his skin.

  Frantically Brian thrust his hand into his pocket, getting a grip on the grapeshot when another blow landed squarely on his forehead. Even in the darkness stars exploded in front of his eyes and he went over to his side.

  Something struck his groin, pain exploding in his abdomen and he threw up the coffee he had earlier. His mouth burned from the bile and with his heart beating erratically Brian finally managed to pull the grapeshot out. Desperately he swung his arm, hoping that his fist would connect with something. Anything.

  A hiss came from his left and Brian swung that way.

  Pushing himself to his knees Brian heard the hiss again, this time to his right and he tensed up, waiting for the blow. When it came, he took it, grinding his teeth even as he threw a punch.

  A deep, powerful voice let out a howl, and was gone.

  Brian rested against one of the shelves, taking long, deep breaths, trying to get his heart to calm down. He clutched the iron in his hand.

  Chapter 30: The Battle in the Parlor

  Sam and Jenny both looked up to the doorway at the sound of a door being slammed.

  Before either of them could say anything the basement door exploded outward and wind came racing into the parlor. The wind was harsh, and cold, and fetid. Sam turned his face away from it, closing his eyes, waiting for the foul wind to pass.

  When Sam turned back towards the parlor door, opening his eyes, he saw the thin line of salt had been scattered across the floor. Before Sam could say anything, before Jenny could finish rising to her feet, something came into the parlor.

  The room darkened as if a pall was drawn across their eyes, and a horrific chill settled over the room.

  “This is our house,” a soft, feminine voice said. “How dare you come into it? How dare you seek to drive us out?”

  “Your mother raised you better than this, Samuel Hall,” another woman said. “She would roll in her grave if she could see you being so disrespectful.”

  Paul’s mother, Sam thought. Dear God help me, I know her voice, she’s here.

  The door to the parlor was thrown closed, rattling in the frame as the key was drawn from the lock and vanished from sight.**

  “Wicked child,” Paul’s mother whispered, “trapped in a man’s body.”

  “Do you remember your nightmares?” the first voice asked. “I’m sure you do. And you, harlot, why have you shorn your locks? What caused you to cut your hair so short? Have you done something worthy of shame?”

  “What the hell?” Jenny asked.

  Something metallic squealed from behind them, and Sam turned around. Smoke started drifting out of the fireplace.

  One of the dead had closed the flue.

  “Shall you join us?” Paul’s mother asked. “Shall you, wicked child and shorn harlot, hmm?”

  “Perhaps you’ll be better folk once you’re dead,” the first voice chuckled.

  “Mm, perhaps,” Paul’s mother said, “although it did nothing for my boy Paul.”

  “This is insane,” Jenny said softly.

  Sam agreed, but didn’t speak. He needed to open the flue if the dead would let him.

  He walked towards the fireplace and felt something cold, bitterly cold wrap around his right wrist.

  Chosin, Sam thought. I was colder than this in Korea.

  Ignoring the cold he pushed on, even as the ghost tried to pull him back.

  But he reached the fireplace, and with his left hand opened the flue.

  Someone snarled in his ear and pushed him back. Behind him, Sam heard Jenny yelp and a glance showed she was being pulled round the room by her hair.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught sight of a piece of kindling being swung at him. He managed to get out of the way of the wood, saw the fireplace poker in a stand to the right of the hearth and realized that the poker was made of iron.

  Good, w
rought iron.

  Sam stumbled, and grabbed a hold of it, his fingers closing around the cold metal. He swung the tool down at the cold grasping his wrist, and someone screamed as the iron made contact.

  Catching his balance Sam turned to help Jenny and paused at the sight of Paul’s grandfather striding into the room.

  The man was as big as Sam remembered him, and as stern in his manner

  “Eleanor!” Paul’s grandfather called, and suddenly a ghost materialized beside Jenny. It was Paul’s mother, her hand wrapped in Jenny’s hair, twisting and pulling the young woman’s head back, forcing Jenny to her knees.

  Eleanor looked at Paul’s grandfather, a snarl frozen on her face, her eyes widening.

  “Paul won’t want you to stop me,” she spat. “You know he wants this done.”

  “Strike, Samuel,” Paul’s grandfather commanded, grasping hold of his dead daughter-in-law.

  And Sam did, the iron passing easily through Eleanor and then through Paul’s grandfather as well.

  Both ghosts disappeared, and Jenny fell forward, catching herself, gasping for air.

  “Brian,” she managed to say as Sam helped her to stand. “Brian.”

  Sam could only nod, gripping the poker tightly and following her out of the room towards the kitchen.

  Chapter 31: Leo and Paul

  Leo walked a few steps behind the dead boy, and wondered how long Paul would keep up the charade. Not too much longer, Leo believed.

  Paul was clever, but he wasn’t patient.

  The boy wanted to create awe, to create fear. He wanted Leo to believe that there was someone even worse than Paul.

  That wasn’t so. Not here.

  Leo could hear it from the others they passed.

  A young man and a young woman whom Paul had drowned in the eighties while they were canoeing.

  A middle-aged man who Paul had helped to commit suicide.

  And others.

  Too many others.

  It would take days for all of them to be cleared out. Leo didn’t have days. Leo could measure his time in minutes.

  Minutes. He smiled at the thought, although he knew that when the time came, it would be nothing to smile about.