The knocking came again.
“What?” She squinted in the harsh morning light pouring through the dormer windows. She would need either blinds or curtains; otherwise, mornings would be untenable.
“We have no food in the house.” Her father’s voice came through the closed door. “We’re going into town for breakfast.”
“Okay.” She wondered if he meant Danvers or Salem. “Which town?”
“You got it.”
“Huh?” Sarah didn’t understand his answer.
“Witch town,” Andrew said. “Salem.”
She groaned, choosing to ignore her father’s lame play on words. “Fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Don’t be long. More than ten minutes and we leave without you.”
“I won’t.” She forced herself from the bed, wincing when her feet touched the cold floor. That was another thing she needed – a rug to put next to the bed.
Her father was going back down the stairs. She could hear the treads creak as he went, despite the closed door. Funny, she thought, they didn’t creak like that last night when Jake ran down them. Maybe it was because her brother was so much lighter, or perhaps he went so fast they didn’t have time to creak. She pushed the thought from her mind and went to the closet, pulling out a black t-shirt with the neck cut so it fell off the shoulder and a pair of tight black skinny jeans. The tee was one of her favorites. She’d worn it so many times that the hemline had frayed, and the black dye had faded to a color approximating dark gray. To finish off, she took a silver chain with an amethyst attached and slipped it around her neck.
When she arrived downstairs, the others were already outside, next to the car. She could feel her father inspecting her clothing, and even if he thought it less than suitable, he kept quiet. After spending six months complaining about her attire, it seemed he’d given up, consigning the conversation to the realm of lost causes.
“Shotgun.” She eyed the front seat.
“Too late.” Jake beamed from ear to ear. “I already called it.”
“Not fair. I wasn’t here.”
“That’s not how shotgun works,” Jake informed her. “Only the driver has to be present.”
“But…” Sarah could feel the anger welling up inside. She took a deep breath, deciding that it was not worth the hassle. That didn’t mean she couldn’t appeal to the voice of reason. She turned to her father. “Jake’s too young for the front seat.”
“Lighten up, Sarah.” Her father pressed the key fob, unlocking the car. “It’s only a short drive. Besides, Jake called it, fair and square.”
“See.” Jake had that look upon his face, the one he used when he wanted to make it clear that he was the winner.
“Whatever.” She pulled the back door open and climbed in, tugging on the seat belt. “The back’s more comfortable anyway.”
__________
The ride to town was short. She was surprised how close to civilization they actually were. In the farmhouse, surrounded by fields and woodland, it felt like they might be living at the end of the earth, but that was not the case, and soon she began to harbor a hope that the Sunday tradition of brunch was not to be consigned to the past.
The restaurant was small.
Sarah sat wedged into one side of a booth that could have benefited from a few extra inches of legroom while her father and brother took up positions across the table. She ordered pancakes with maple syrup, not something she usually allowed herself, especially since the jeans were already too tight, but today she needed them. She would have liked a side of sausages to go with the sweet flapjacks, but that was going a bit too far, so she watched Jake consume his with an envy barely contained.
After they ate, while her father drank a third cup of coffee, she turned her attention to Jake. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Fine.” He looked at her with narrowed eyes.
“Are you sure about that?” She watched him take a sip of orange juice. “Did you do a little sleepwalking?”
“What are you talking about?” Jake seemed genuinely clueless, but she wasn’t buying it.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t.” He stuck his chin out and wrinkled his nose, scrunching his face up in mock confusion. “You’re weird.”
“The nightlight.” There, she had said it, tipped her hand. Now there could be no misunderstanding, not that he could have missed the accusation anyway.
“Huh?” Jake ran a finger across his plate, collecting up some stray maple syrup, and put his finger to his mouth to lick the gooey liquid off.
“Stop that.” Andrew gave his son a withering look. ”You know better.”
“Sorry.” Jake grinned and rubbed his hand with the napkin.
“Well?” Sarah asked, frustrated. Her father had gotten Jake off track, distracted him from the real issue.
“Well what?” Jake was still playing the innocent.
“You know very well what.” She glared at him. “You snuck into my room last night and turned off the nightlight. You know how much I hate the dark.”
“I did not.” Jake’s eyes flew wide.
“I heard you. You woke me up walking around. What were you doing, you little creep, going through my stuff?”
“I thought you said the nightlight was off?”
“It was.”
“So how could I be going through your stuff in the dark?” He leaned on the table. “I don’t have x-ray vision.”
“I don’t think x-ray vision would help you very much.” Despite Jake’s gaff, he made a good point. It was amazing that he was even able to navigate the unfamiliar room without bumping into furniture, let alone nose through her things.
“I wasn’t in your room.” Jake finished the last of his juice. “I only got up once to pee.”
“I don’t believe you.” Sarah was not willing to let him get away with it. “How else did my light get turned off?”
“I don’t know.” Jake shrugged.
“Maybe you just forgot to turn it on before you went to bed, Pickle,” her dad said.
“I didn’t. It was on when I went to bed,” Sarah replied. ”And don’t call me Pickle.”
“Sorry. You used to like it.”
“When I was ten.” She could not remember exactly what had prompted the first use of the affectionate moniker, but in recent years it had become an embarrassment. “I’m an adult now.”
“Sorry,” her father said. “It’s hard to remember that you are an adult when you’re arguing with your brother.”
“I wasn’t arguing.” Sarah felt frustrated. “I was asking him why he turned off my light.”
“It sounded like an argument from where I was sitting.”
“Well, maybe he shouldn’t go sneaking around my room.”
“I didn’t.” Jake protested his innocence yet again. “I swear.”
“See?” Andrew glanced between his kids. “Jake says he didn’t do it.”
“I don’t believe him.”
“And I don’t care,” Andrew said, pulling a couple of twenty dollar bills from his wallet and dropping them on the table beside the check. “You’ve been in a bad mood for days. Stop taking it out on your brother. It isn’t his fault that you don’t like the new house.”
“That’s not—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Andrew held up a hand, cutting her off. “Let’s get out of here, shall we? There’s a lot to do today, and not much time to do it.”
Chapter 11
Jake sat cross-legged on the living room floor and watched his father pull cables from a box with the words Living Room/TV Stuff scrawled in a black marker.
“I’m bored.” He spoke the words like a seasoned pro, the nuances of tone and accent on each syllable perfected by years of practice.
“You could go up and put stuff away in your room,” his dad said, his head now lost behind the TV where he was plugging in cables. “I’m sure there’s lots more to unpack.”
/> “Nah.” Jake shook his head. “I’ll do that later.”
“It has to be done sometime.”
“I know. I don’t want to do it right now.” Putting stuff away was no more fun than watching his father grapple with the TV. Jake’s eyes drifted to the window. “Can I go outside?”
“I don’t believe it.” There was mock surprise in his dad’s voice. “You never wanted to play outside in Boston.”
“There’s nothing to do here.” Jake moaned. “The Internet doesn’t work yet, and the game system isn’t set up.”
“Alright.” His father was playing with the remote now. “Don’t go near anything you shouldn’t, and don’t wander too far. Stay close to the house, okay?”
“I will.” Jake sprang to his feet and bolted for the hallway. He sped through the dining room and into the kitchen, before remembering about the bolt on the back door.
He wavered, wondering if he should go back and get help, but when he looked up, the bolt was already drawn back.
He opened the door and stepped out, pausing to take in the landscape.
A sloping area of overgrown grass dropped away to a line of trees fifty feet away. An old swing set sat rusty and unloved, the wooden seat almost rotted through. He wondered how long it had been there.
Off to the right, a trail weaved through the grass to a pair of barns. He was sure they were out of bounds, but Dad hadn’t told him not to go there, so that was the direction he went in.
The barns were in a sorry state. Everything in the house was suffering from some level of decay, but these buildings were the worst.
He approached the nearest one and tugged on the door. It didn’t move, but there was enough of a gap to push his head inside.
He brushed away a cobweb that stuck to his face and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they did, he was disappointed to see that the barn was empty except for a stack of lumber piled toward the back. Leaning against the wood was an old, tarnished axe. He took a step forward, the axe a beacon to his curiosity, but then he wavered. There would be all sorts of trouble if he was caught playing with something like that. Better to leave it where it was.
He retreated, closing the barn door, and walked to the other building.
Rows of strange looking metal pens lined each side of the structure. Dad had said that these were cow barns, and he wondered if the enclosures were used to keep the cows in. Beyond these, at the back, were two metal racks, crowded with an assortment of items.
He stepped into the barn, ignoring the pens, but was disappointed to find that most of the items were mundane. Old tractor parts, a fifty pound bag of grass seed, the bottom rotted out and seeds spilling onto the shelf, and a variety of rusting wrenches and other assorted tools he didn’t recognize. On the bottom shelf of one rack sat a pair of five-gallon gas cans. He recognized them because his dad kept one in the trunk of his car, although that one was red plastic. These were metal, and they looked much older.
He reached out, lifted the nearest can. It was heavy. Liquid sloshed when he moved it.
He considered pulling it out, unscrewing the spout to see what was inside, but he couldn’t be bothered. What else would be inside a gas can other than gasoline? Besides, he didn’t like the barn. The air was thick with a cloying, pungent odor he could not identify. It was sickly. Rotten. It left a nasty taste in the back of his throat.
He turned, losing interest in the junk on the shelves, and made his way back to the door and slipped out into the daylight. He squinted, letting his eyes adjust, and then took off again.
Leaving the barns behind, Jake walked across the lawn, in the shadow of the house. High on the roofline he spied two dormer windows. These would be Sarah’s room. It was unfair that she got such a big space while his room was so much smaller.
He stopped at the swing set.
It was even worse up close. He reached out and took hold of the chain holding the swing, pulling back and then letting it go. The whole structure creaked and groaned as it swung, sounding like it was in pain.
He looked down at his hands, at the red coating of rust that had come away when he touched the chain. He wiped it off on his jeans.
When he looked up again, he was surprised to see a gray and white rabbit sitting a few feet away on the lawn.
It was motionless, its large dark eyes observing him.
When he took a step forward, it turned and bounded toward the tree line, then paused, looking back at him.
He took another step.
The rabbit hopped a bit further before stopping once more.
Jake stared.
Did it want him to follow it?
He walked forward.
The rabbit followed suit, keeping ahead of him.
It was almost at the trees now. It hesitated one last time and then disappeared into the undergrowth.
Jake sprinted forward, arriving at the trees in time to see the rabbit resting near a fallen log. When it saw him, the animal hopped down and scurried a few feet further.
Jake lingered, glancing back toward the house, his father’s words echoing in his mind. When he turned back toward the woods, the rabbit was still there.
It watched him, half reared on its hind legs, ears pricked up. And then it turned and hopped between two tall oaks, disappearing from sight.
Jake forgot his dilemma. He moved forward, following the animal into the woods.
It kept ahead of him, weaving in and out of the trees, following the line of an old, overgrown path.
He ran behind, doing his best to keep the furry creature in sight. The few times it did evade him, the rabbit always seemed to pop up again.
And then he came to the brook.
It gurgled and gushed, carving a path through the forest.
The rabbit was several feet ahead, sitting in the middle of the path, eyes fixed upon him. In the canopy above, birds chittered and sang. A chorus of crickets chirped in rhythmic harmony. For a brief moment, Jake felt at one with his surroundings. He wondered if the rabbit had brought him here to see this, experience it. It sounded silly, but the thought persisted.
Jake inched forward, reaching his hand out toward the animal, knowing that it would let him pet it. Because they shared a bond that only nature could forge.
Then, before Jake knew what was happening, the bunny launched sideways out of sight.
“Wait!” Jake called out in desperation, even though he knew, deep down, that it was pointless.
He ran forward, veering off at the spot where the animal had disappeared.
Up ahead something pushed through the undergrowth, rustling leaves.
Jake followed the sound, eager to catch up with his newfound friend, but this time the rabbit wasn’t making things so easy. In the end, he came to a halt, his breathing labored.
Where had the animal gone?
He took a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the brush, but it was no use. The rabbit had abandoned him.
A deep sense of loneliness descended up him. He missed his furry little friend.
At that moment, a sudden quiet descended upon the forest, almost as if a switch had been turned off. The birds were no longer singing in the trees, the crickets had ceased their chirping. Even the trees were still. The silence was eerie.
Jake froze, confused.
He might have been raised in the city, but it didn’t take a born and bred woodsman to know that something was amiss. The air hung like an oppressive blanket, thick and stale. It reminded him of the atmosphere in the barn. There was a trace of the same festering rot.
Jake didn’t want to be here anymore.
He looked around, panicked. Nothing looked right. He couldn’t see the house or the back yard. He was not even on a path anymore.
He was lost.
But how could that be?
Surely he hadn’t strayed that far into the forest? One glance around told him he had. Tall trees jostled for space on all sides, stretching as far as he could see. They closed in around him, the
ir branches reaching out, choking off the sunlight.
It was cold too. Right where he was standing, the air was freezing, which was strange for a summer day.
A creeping fear engulfed him.
He didn’t want to be in the woods anymore.
Except that he had no idea how to get out.
And then he remembered the brook. He could still hear the gurgle of water somewhere off to his left. In fact, it was the only thing that hadn’t gone quiet.
He took a deep breath, ignoring the voice inside his head that told him to run fast and run far, and started in the direction of the sound. He pushed through wild bushes, stepped over a large boulder, and a few moments later came upon the stream.
He almost fainted with relief. It should be easy to follow this back until he gained his bearings.
Only something wasn’t right.
The water, which should have been crystal clear, was not. Ribbons of bright red weaved along in the current, dancing around rocks like streamers in the wind.
His eyes wandered, following the crimson rivulets back upstream.
Fear pricked at the back of his neck.
Something lay on the ground ahead, half submerged in the water, small, round and furry.
Jake moved closer, his pulse racing.
He looked down, furrowing his brow.
At first, he didn’t comprehend what he was looking at, but then he saw a big, round eye staring back at him and a pair of long ears. Below that, nothing but ragged, torn flesh.
Jake stumbled backwards, horrified.
Now he knew what had made the stream run red, and he knew what lay at the water’s edge.
It was the rabbit, or rather, the poor creature’s head, and it looked like it had been ripped clean off.
He felt his stomach churn, tasted the half digested pancakes in his throat, hot and acidic. He swallowed, desperate not to throw up. Not here, not next to the savaged bunny.
He backed up, tearing his eyes away from the grisly sight. And then he came upon the rest of the unfortunate animal.
The Haunting of Willow House Page 5
