by Ronald Malfi
“Kelly!” Becky’s voice boomed just as a light fixture above Kelly’s head exploded in a display of sparking wires and a spurt of gray smoke.
They both hit the floor and started running down the hallway that communicated with the main foyer. Beneath their feet, the floor bubbled and ruptured. Geysers of plaster and sealant spewed from gaping sores along the floor. At the top of her lungs, Kelly began screaming: “Get out! Get out! Get out!” The echo of her voice slammed back at her face in the small confines of the corridor. The walls protested their escape, grew prong-like extensions and tried to grab at them.
Aside from the vibrating sway of the immense chandelier in the center of the ceiling, the commotion had not yet reached the foyer. The sweeping stairwell along the far wall only groaned under an unseen strain. A shuffle of footsteps came thundering from the upstairs hallway. Glancing over her shoulder as she ran, Kelly saw her parents standing in their nightclothes, peering down at her from the landing. Their faces were blank and colorless.
“Mom! Dad! Get out!” she cried up to them, but they didn’t move. Even the sight of Becky at her side did not appear to stimulate any emotion on their faces. “Get out!” she screamed again. “Get the hell out of the house!”
Beside her, Becky screamed and slammed her body against Kelly’s. The force of the tackle was nearly enough to knock her over. Stunned, Kelly spun around and saw Glenda standing in the broken light of the foyer. She was tying a housecoat about her waist with deliberate slowness, seemingly ignorant of all that was going on around her.
“Glenda,” Kelly breathed, “the house…you have to get out of the—”
“Becky,” Glenda said firmly. Her eyes did not even acknowledge Kelly. “Rebecca Kellow…”
“Glenda!” Kelly shouted. Above her head, the bulbs of the giant crystal chandelier began blinking on and off, on and off. “We need to get out of here!”
A coy smile on her face, Glenda finally met Kelly’s eyes. The intensity of her stare froze Kelly on the spot. There appeared to be a countless ream of emotions behind those eyes, calculating and contemplating…
“Kelly,” Glenda half-whispered, “what did you do?”
“What?” The world was starting to spin out of focus again.
“What did you come back here for? To bring such destruction, such havoc?”
Shaking her head, her heart thudding feverishly in her ears, Kelly could only mouth the word again: “What?”
“Did you kill him?” Glenda took a step closer to her, out from the shadows. Her feet moved in perfect parallel division. “Where is he? Is he dead?”
“Dead?” Faintly, she could feel Becky tugging against her arm. “Glenda—”
“What are you trying to do here, Kelly?” the old woman repeated, her voice rising. “What are you trying to do to me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to live your entire life here, to raise a child only to have her run away from you and never come back? Do you know what that feels like?”
The floor started to shake. A statue atop a marble pedestal near the front door was shaken to the floor. The beams in the ceiling creaked and groaned.
Glenda took another step closer. “And now you take him away from me too?”
“Kelly!” Becky shouted, seemingly from very far away. “Kelly, no!”
Kelly’s mind reeled. “Glenda, what is this?”
“Little Baby Roundabout,” Glenda half-sang. “Someone let the Baby out, Kelly.”
“She’s bad!” Becky screamed, her voice choked with tears. “Kelly, she’s bad! Kelly! Kelly!”
“How do you know about him?” Kelly whispered.
Glenda threw her hands up, her face suddenly red with fury, wetness glittering in her eyes. “Do you see what you leave me with? Nothing! You leave me with nothing! My own daughter—”
“I’m not your daughter.”
“You were more mine than theirs,” Glenda hissed. “You goddamn know it, Kelly!”
“I’m…” She faltered and turned to see her parents still standing on the landing, unmoving. In their silence, she could see a tear trace down her mother’s cheek. After all this time, like a shock from a light socket, she felt a strong urge to forgive her parents, and to almost comprehend where they were coming from. Because in a sense, this house—this thriving, beating heart—had kept the same hold over them as it had kept on her. Only she had power, had strength, had abilities. Her parents did not. Doomed, the house had sucked the life from them since the beginning. Since, she suddenly understood, before she was even born. The image of herself curled into a fetal position in some dark corner—the result had she given in to Simon—returned to her…and only now did she understand that that image was exactly who her parents had been for years. That without her power—and the power Becky undoubtedly carried inside her too—she would have grown cold and empty and beyond emotion just like her parents.
She glanced down at Becky, petrified against her, and back up at Glenda. “You knew about this all along,” she marveled. “You knew what lived in those woods—”
“You two aren’t the only ones who get lonely and afraid!” Glenda cried, tears spilling down her face. “I’ve been here for so long! Do you know what it’s like to have no children of your own? And when you raise the children of others, they just turn around and leave you. Kelly, I didn’t want them to put you away. I wanted you here with me. I tried to stop them.”
“You…you were taking care of Becky here at the house. After the accident, you…it was your idea to keep her home and not at the hospital, wasn’t it? You’ve been looking after her, been—” She shuddered at the thought, her heart breaking, but it needed to be asked. “You were keeping her unconscious, weren’t you? All along. That’s why her door was locked sometimes. You were giving her sedatives.”
“You don’t understand anything!” Glenda cried. Overhead the chandelier flickered. Bits of plaster were dropping from the ceiling now. “You’ve been away for too long and don’t understand anything!”
“Did you keep her this way so I’d come back?”
“Kelly—”
“What did you think would happen? Did you think I’d come home and everything would be like it was?”
“I knew that if you came home, that thing in the woods could make you stay,” Glenda breathed. “I knew there was a way.”
“No.” She shook her head, looped an arm around Becky’s shoulders. “There is no way.”
The weight of the chandelier became too much for the weakening ceiling, and it suddenly plunged several feet before its cables caught, preventing it from crushing them all. Becky screamed and pushed her face against Kelly’s body. Glenda didn’t even look up; her eyes were pushing against Kelly’s flesh, her face and her own eyes.
“If this house comes down,” the old woman said, “then it comes down with all of us in it. Like a family.” She took another step closer to Kelly. “I won’t let you leave. I’m not going to let the Baby out.”
From her housecoat, Glenda produced a carving knife. Kelly followed the blade, her mind unable to comprehend this sudden twist. She felt something nudge her at the back of her mind. It was like the resurgence of power from earlier, only ineffectually faint now. She almost caught a whiff of coffee and cologne and thought: Josh?
“Glenda,” she said, pushing Becky behind her with one hand, “stop it. Let us get to the door. We’re all going to die in here.”
“Then that is how it was meant to be.”
Holding the knife out in front of her, Glenda took a step closer to Kelly, backing her and her sister toward the wall. The floor shook and marble tiles like land mines exploded randomly along the floor.
“Jesus, Glenda, we’re all going to die!”
“Shhhhh! Close your eyes and rest your head, Sweet Babe.”
Behind Kelly, the wall erupted in a shower of plaster and wood. She felt her back pelted with debris and heard Becky shout in pain. A long piece of molding sliced through the air and slammed Glenda in the leg but t
he old woman did not even notice. Her eyes were blinded by fanatical rage and a mother’s deep abandonment. The knife wavered slightly in her hand.
“Then let Becky go,” Kelly said. “Then it will just be you and me, Glenda, just like when I was younger. All right? You and me.”
“No!” Becky sobbed. “Kelly, no!”
“Glenda!” she shouted. “Come on! You and me, Glenda. Let Becky run out. Let her leave.”
The old woman’s mouth worked, her small teeth biting over her lips. She flicked the knife in the direction of the front door just as a floor tile exploded a few feet behind her. “Yes,” she said, “like before.” She looked at Becky. “Go.”
Becky shook her head, gathering fistfuls of Kelly’s clothes.
“Get out!” Glenda shouted. A mess of blood vessels had erupted across her nose and forehead—dark purple spider-webs.
“Go, honey,” Kelly urged, trying to pull the girl off her clothes. “Becky—go and run. Run straight out of this town.”
“No!”
A sound like a giant elastic band snapping filled the house, and one of the electrical cables suspending the chandelier snapped free of the ceiling and whipped across the air like a scourge. The severed end, spitting electric current, struck the floor in a fireworks demonstration, and slid halfway across the tile, leaving behind a trail of brilliant sparks. The severed end struck a wall, which quickly burst into flames.
Now, Josh’s voice spoke up in her head. Run, Kelly. Now’s your chance.
She grabbed Becky by the wrist and took off for the front door. Beneath her feet, the floor bubbled and shifted and reached out to grab her ankles. Behind her, she could feel the immense and abrupt heat of the fire, could hear Glenda shouting at them in anguished, defeated sobs.
No one wants to be left alone, she thought as she ran.
Seconds before she hit the front door, it blew off its hinges and out into the night, as if scooped up and away by a passing tornado. The faint stink of citron stung her nose and a sneeze exploded from her face. Freezing air rushed into the room. She broke out into a fever sweat.
Hitting the porch, she urged Becky down the steps while fighting off her own hesitation. She could not shake the image of her parents on the landing, staring at her with bitter resolve. That wasn’t them. Just as Kelly had been robbed of parents, they’d been robbed of being parents. This house. This heart. Was this just another thing she was running away from? Was this something that would keep her awake at night, thinking again about the people she’d left behind? I tried, her father had told her that night in the basement. And I’m trying even now. They were both trapped under the spell of the house…
She turned to run back into the house, but was halted by gnashing teeth and a gleaming blade. It went fast—too fast—and her shoulder was suddenly ablaze with agonizing fire, so potent and indisputable that she could taste the presence of pain in her mouth like copper. Before her face, Glenda’s eyes gleamed. Her withered old hand came away wet with blood. The hilt of the knife, protruding like an obscenity from Kelly’s left shoulder, was also covered in blood. As was her shirt. The pain was beyond real. And Glenda’s hand came down again, grasped the handle of the knife, extracted it with painful lethargy. Fresh agony erupted from her shoulder, then it all fell numb. Again, the knife was raised—she could see it so clearly now, as if in slow motion—and just before it completed its arc, two figures emerged from behind Glenda. One grabbed her arm. The second wrapped an arm around her neck, another arm about the old woman’s waist. And at first, like in some wild nightmare, Kelly thought it was the two dead girls from the institution returning for one last curtain call. But no—she caught the eyes of her saviors and realized they were her parents.
She felt herself grow lightheaded and, as strange as it was, felt a tremendous laugh build up inside her and rush out of her mouth. She felt herself whirl around and stagger down the front steps. She moved quicker than her eyes could keep up with: it took a few moments for the scenery to shift with each new perspective. Far off, she could hear Becky screaming, could feel a hand at her back—two hands—and then the world began to get grainy before her eyes.
You have to keep with it, Kelly, she heard Josh say inside her head. Focus and stay awake and this will all turn out fine. I promise you. But you have to fight it off, all right? You have to be strong and fight off the darkness.
But she couldn’t fight it off…
Use me, the voice said. It wasn’t Josh’s voice. Someone else…
There was a strong sense of giving, of exchange, and she could do nothing but accept it in her state. Strength blossomed throughout her body, like the lights of a city slowly coming on after an extended blackout.
She stumbled down the front porch stairs, Becky at her side, and spilled out across the front lawn, her back soaking in the wetness of the snow. Her vision blurry, she looked back up toward the house. In the doorway, she could see Glenda had disappeared.
“No,” she managed. Crying, Becky tried to get her to remain down on the ground. Kelly shook her away and struggled to her feet. “No…I’ll be okay.”
“Where are you going?” Becky called after her. “Kelly!”
In a fugue, she headed back toward the house. She could feel the solidity of the ground beneath her feet and never felt more thankful for anything in her entire life. Out here was real, was solid reality.
The face of the house looked like a scream turning in on itself. The peaked roofs and spires had crumbled inward, smashing through the main roof and third floor ceiling. The windows sprayed glass as if in synchrony. The balconies on either side of the house crashed and folded up into sandwiched bits of concrete and cinder. The massive stone columns that held up the canopy above the front entranceway collapsed, sending the canopy crashing to the earth in a bloom of smoke and ruin.
Kelly stepped around the front of the house and moved to the nearest first floor window. All the windows at this level had gone a brilliant orange-yellow, the flames reflected out into the night. Kelly moved against one of these windows, felt it hot to the touch and backed away. Peering inside, she watched as the spiral staircase collapsed, engulfed in flames, and the lavish drapes and carpets caught fire. Spiraling tendrils of smoke twirled toward the ceiling. Flames licked at the massive framed oil paintings; many had already begun to melt. The canvas caught fire almost immediately, sending the painting ablaze.
On her knees at the center of the conflagration was Glenda, bound on either side by Kelly’s mother and father. Head bowed, Glenda’s compact frame shook as her parents held her respective arms. Her parents’ faces were emotionless, just as they’d always been…but no, not quite…
They’re happy, it suddenly occurred to her. They’re happy and they’re proud. For once.
And on the heels of that: Me too.
Chapter Thirty
Sheriff Alan Bannercon pulled his cruiser up the hillside drive of the Kellow Compound and slammed on his brakes. As he peered through the windshield of the car, he watched in awe as the mansion came crumbling down on itself, its core destroyed by a blazing inferno that lit the night sky. And though it had been his intention to question the Kellows in the disappearance of Felix Raintree, all thought of that quickly vanished from his mind.
He radioed the location to the station, then shoved the car door open and sprinted toward the house. As he ran, he nearly trampled a young girl into the ground, as his eyes were glued to the crumbling house.
“Jesus shit,” he blurted, and backpedaled.
The teenage girl sat sobbing into her hands on the snowy lawn. At his words, she looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes.
“You all right, kid? There anybody still in there?”
The girl shook her head. “He’s dead,” she muttered.
“Christ. Who?”
“Simple Simon,” she said.
“Simple Simon,” he repeated. “Who’s that?”
Looking away from him, she said, “The Pie Man.”
&nbs
p; A figured emerged from the darkness and staggered over toward him. He stood, adjusting his belt, and hurried over to the figure after telling the young girl to stay put. The figure stumbled into the moonlight. It was a young woman with an injured shoulder. Blood ran down her shirt and covered her hands. When she approached him, he realized her eyes looked a lot older than her face. Looking at her sent a shiver down his back.
“Ma’am, you’re injured.”
“It’s all right.”
“Is there anyone left in the house?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the young woman started to laugh. And after a while, the laugh only grew in intensity, until tears streamed down her face and her chest hitched. It pained her wound to laugh, he could tell, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Ma’am,” he insisted, “ma’am—is there anyone in the house?”
“Sure,” she said finally. “Just some old ghosts.” And collapsed on the ground, sobbing.
Nellie dead, Josh folded the old woman’s hands atop her chest and took a step back to examine her. Behind him, Carlos stood with his arms at his sides, his mind like an empty tract of land.
“It’s done?” said the doctor.
Josh nodded. “She’s okay. It’s over.” He grinned, though Carlos couldn’t see him. “With any luck, Kelly will be coming home soon.”
Carlos spent some time staring at the corkscrew tendrils of hair at the back of Josh’s head. After a while he said, “I don’t suppose you’re even capable of telling me what it was like? Being there, inside her head, I mean. I don’t suppose there’s any way.”
“None at all,” Josh said, turning to face the doctor. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“How did you know to take her hands like that?”
“I don’t know,” Josh admitted. “I think maybe Nellie willed me to do it, just before she died.”
“Does your chest hurt?”
“Sorry?”
“You’ve been rubbing your chest for the past ten minutes. It hurts?”
