Threshold

by Sean Platt

  “Where are you strongest?”

  Mom didn’t answer, at least not exactly.

  “Do you know the old church cemetery?”

  “The one on the way into town?”

  “Yes, Hazel. That’s the one. I need you to go there. That’s where I’m strongest.”

  “I don’t know,” Hazel said, pausing at the opening, looking back at the manor and guest house, wondering if anyone had noticed her or Hudson missing.

  Mom flickered.

  “Mom! Where are you going?”

  “I’m too weak to stay here. Come to the cemetery.”

  And then she was gone.

  Hazel stared at the opening, heart racing as she weighed her decision.

  She thought about what Carter had said about ghosts trying to trick you. But this wasn’t a ghost, it was her mom. She could feel it as certain as she could feel the cold grass on her feet.

  Hazel stepped through the hole and left the manor behind her.

  **

  Hazel followed a path to the road then walked along it on her way to the cemetery.

  It was dark and cold, and Hazel wished she’d thought to put on some actual clothes, or at least some shoes. Fortunately, the grass was relatively soft, so her feet weren’t hurting. She couldn’t help but think of her dream — the rocks cutting her feet and the murderous crows.

  A chill ran through her as she walked along the dark and quiet urban road. She felt vulnerable, exposed on the open road in the middle of nowhere. It was also so dark she couldn’t see anything.

  What if a car drives by, doesn’t see me, and hits me?

  Or what if someone does see me, and kidnaps me?

  “Just keep walking, honey, you’re almost there,” her mother’s voice spoke in her head.

  And then, about a hundred feet from the old cemetery, Hazel saw her mother’s faded apparition like a flickering television signal.

  Mom stood neatly between two large headstones, beneath a giant oak. She was beautiful, surrounded by wisps of blues, greens, and yellows, just like those Hazel had seen on her fingers before they sent her father across the room. Again she thought of her mother looking more like an angel than a ghost.

  “Mom?” she whispered.

  “Yes, Hazel. I’m here.”

  She wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure if she could.

  “I miss you so much!”

  Hazel didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to seem strong. But it was hard to feel strong, being the only one who ever talked to Mom, and having no one believe her.

  “I miss you, too, Hazel.” Mom paused then added, “I have something to tell you, and must hurry. I’m strongest here, but still too weak to come back with you.”

  “Wait, you can come back?”

  “Yes, Hazel … if you help. Will you help me?”

  “Of course, Mom. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do.”

  “First, I must tell you a secret.”

  “What is it?” Hazel involuntarily leaned toward her mother’s colorful shape.

  “Carter isn’t who he says.”

  “What do you mean?” Hazel looked at her, puzzled. “Who is he?”

  “Carter is, or was, the manor’s caretaker. But he died last year. The man you know as Carter is actually your Great-Uncle Alastair.”

  Hazel gasped. Her hands found her cheeks.

  “Why would he lie?”

  “Because he wants something from you, Hazel. And no matter what, you can’t give it to him.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wants to use you. He knows you’re special, and wants to use you to get what he wants. That’s why I had to bring you out here. He feels me in Galloway Manor. But out here he cannot. I’m sorry about the dreams, Hazel. With the crows. I can put things in your mind, but have no control of their shape once there. But I had to get your attention, to wake you up.”

  “It’s okay.” Hazel was doing her best to understand. “How is Car—, um, Alastair trying to use me, Mom? I don’t understand. What’s special about me?”

  “Everything.” Mom smiled, then reached out to touch her. Hazel felt warmth, starting at her neck and seeping down her arms and back. It felt good, especially considering how cold the night was. “I cannot tell you what Alastair is after because it would take too long to explain, and after I did you still probably wouldn’t understand. Explanations are for later. Can you trust me for now?”

  “Of course, Mom,” Hazel repeated. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “First, you must promise you’ll do whatever I ask.”

  Hazel nodded. “I promise.”

  “Good, I knew I could count on you. I’m trapped in the cellar, and need you to let me out. Hudson is hiding the key that looks like an amulet. You need to get it and open the cellar door, but … don’t let anyone catch you. If you do, you might end up like Savannah.”

  “What?” Hazel said.

  But Mom was already fading.

  Hazel turned around and headed back to the house hoping she could summon the courage to do as her mother asked.

  * * * *

  SCOTT

  Carter pounded on the bedroom door, waking Scott from his drunken stupor.

  “Open up, Mr. Dawson!”

  “Coming,” Scott grumbled, then climbed from his bed and walked to the door.

  This had better be good.

  The door swung wide. Carter marched into his room.

  “Where are your children, Mr. Dawson?”

  “Excuse me?” Scott was instantly alert. “You must have a better idea than I do since you’re the one banging on my door. What are you actually asking?”

  “Your children, Mr. Dawson. Do you have any idea where they are? Because as of right now, you have one in town and another off premises.”

  “What do you mean off premises?”

  “Your daughter isn’t here, Mr. Dawson!” Carter said, coughing hard into a cloth.

  “Did you check the gazebo?”

  “I haven’t checked anywhere yet, but trust me, she is not on the grounds.”

  “How can you possibly know she isn’t here if you haven’t even looked?”

  Carter barked, “Because the bloodline boils, Mr. Dawson. Because the bloodline boils!”

  Carter’s own blood seemed to be boiling, and the old man’s words made about as much sense as his manner. He seemed sweaty, out of breath, hair plastered in stringy lines to his forehead, clumps jutting from just above his ears. He coughed again, looking like he might hack up a lung.

  Scott had never seen the old man look so … old.

  Scott’s heart began to race as he tried to think of where Hazel could have run off to. He figured Hudson must’ve gone to see Iris, not only because she was the only person he knew in town, but because she was a girl and Hudson was a boy.

  But Hazel, where could she have gone?

  A dark thought crossed his mind, one he felt ashamed to even be thinking in the moment, but it came nonetheless.

  “So, if Hudson and Hazel are both off the property, does that mean we’ve voided our inheritance.”

  “Yes, but believe me, Mr. Dawson: that is hardly our most pressing worry.”

  Something about the old caretaker (everything) said not to argue. His eyes were wide and hollow, furrowed brows sinking low above them. The usual youthfulness in his otherwise elderly face was gone. He seemed drawn and haggard, worried to death.

  “What do you mean not our most pressing worry?” Scott sensed too much behind the man’s wild eyes.

  “Nothing you can understand.” Carter snarled, then turned, waving his hands in the air. “You have broken the covenant, Mr. Dawson. You have no idea what you have done, the damage you’ve caused.” His voice became hoarse, cracked as he added, “And what might happen now.”

  Scott ignored Carter, turned from him, walked to his nightstand, and picked up his phone to dial Hudson.

  No answer.

  Scott hung up on the voicemail and dial
ed again, then a third time after that. On the fourth call he left a voicemail.

  “Hey Hudson. Where are you? Where is your sister? Call me back the second you get this!”

  Scott’s left fist was clenched as he killed the call and threw his phone on the bed. He didn’t know what Carter was hiding, but there was definitely something. The will’s restrictions had always seemed odd, the bloodline argument barely making sense. Hudson was right about that. But Carter’s wild eyes over Scott’s children missing was definitely crazy. There had to be something more.

  Carter paced the room. Scott grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

  “What the hell is going on here? What is it you’re not telling me? What is it you think I won’t understand?”

  Carter’s crazy started to fade. In his usual, calm voice he said, “I cannot tell you anything right now, Mr. Dawson. We don’t have time. We must find Hazel. Your son is here.” He pointed at the green glass tablet — which had a map of the town on the screen — and the blinking red light on the same street where he’d found Hudson before. “Do you know where this is?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then go. I will get Jacquelyn and Mara, see if they’ve heard from or seen Hazel yet.”

  Scott nodded, turned from Carter, and got dressed.

  He was heading straight for the garage, certain he’d see a missing car — probably the roadster since Hudson didn’t know how to drive a motorcycle, or whatever the flying contraption was.

  Scott was a half-minute walk from the garage when he saw Hazel clomping through the grass up the driveway. He was deep enough in the shadows that she couldn’t see him. She was obviously startled as he marched up beside her.

  “Where the hell have you been, Hazel?”

  “I had to take a walk,” she said without flinching.

  “In the middle of the night? Outside the manor? You know the rules, Hazel.”

  “Exactly,” she said, holding his eyes. “It was the middle of the night. Hudson was home. I just wanted to go for a walk. Isn’t that alright?”

  “No!” he screamed. “It’s not! Your brother got the same fool idea, and now I have to go get him!”

  He looked at her. Something felt off. She looked even guiltier than she should.

  “Wait a second. This place is huge. Why would you need to leave the manor? Where were you, really?”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “I was with Mommy.”

  Scott stared at her, feeling helpless, angry, and wanting to explode.

  “I can’t deal with this now.”

  “I’m not lying!”

  “Just go in the house. Find Carter and tell him you’re okay. Then find Jacquelyn or Mara. Stay with them until I get back home with Hudson. Can you do that?”

  Home.

  She nodded, eyes wet, then turned toward the manor.

  * * * *

  HUDSON

  Hudson was in their old Las Orillas kitchen, searching the cupboards for cereal. Anything was fine, though Cinnamon Toast Crunch was his favorite. He was starving, but the cupboards were bare. The bank had come to empty them: four men in matching suits.

  He turned from the empty cupboards, stomach rumbling, and saw that all of their furniture was gone. The house was empty.

  Except for a voice calling his name.

  Savannah.

  “I’m here, Hudson.”

  Her voice sounded like it was coming from upstairs.

  “Please, come find me.”

  “I have something to show you.”

  Hudson desperately wanted to see whatever Savannah wanted to share. But as he approached the stairs, furniture collapsed on itself while the floor unfolded around him, turning feet into yards, making the stairway a sudden half-mile away.

  “Please hurry.”

  “I’m not very strong.”

  “Without you I’ll fade into nothing.”

  Hudson ran toward the stairs, even as the floor continued to unfold around him, laying even more space between him and his destination.

  What the hell is happening?

  Finally, he reached the bottom stair, and bent over, out of breath.

  “Hurry, Hudson.”

  He forced himself to run up the stairs. The walls on either side of him started to squeeze in, but at least the stairs didn’t start unfolding and multiplying.

  He found the top of the stairs quickly, turned the corner, and bound into his old bedroom.

  He threw the door open, then stopped dead at the sight of Savannah standing there.

  He gasped at her beauty. She was tall like a statue, with beautiful blue eyes, full pink lips, and a heart-shaped face peeking out from behind her long blonde locks. She wore a long white shirt over a long, flowing white dress.

  “What is it?” he asked from the doorway. “What do you want to show me?”

  “Me,” she said, lifting her shirt to show Hudson her bare breasts, just like a girl had done to him before. But his memories were hazy, and he suddenly couldn’t remember that girl’s name.

  Hudson crossed the room. He couldn’t reach her fast enough. He needed her. He was still a step away when Savannah reached out, wrapped her arm around his back, and pulled him toward her.

  “I’ve been waiting so long.”

  Her shirt was high, and her breasts were pressed to his body. She kissed him. He kissed her back. It was wet and wonderful.

  Better than Iris.

  Iris.

  Only then did he remember her name, and that he was at her house, which turned this into a dream.

  Hudson felt himself getting aroused in his old bedroom, and somehow knew he was aroused on Iris’s floor, back in the real world.

  As if in response to the knowledge of his true self, Hudson’s dream shook and crumbled to pieces around him. His phone rang, jerking him from a shredded dream and dropping him right beside Iris. He scrambled to answer, but reached a dead call.

  He looked at the screen: four calls, one voicemail.

  Hudson swallowed, feeling himself sweat as he pressed the voicemail button and raised the phone to his ear. He listened to his father screaming. Iris was staring, clearly concerned. He finished listening, then listened again.

  He looked around, trying to clear his head. He was still in Iris’s living room, a few feet from where he’d collapsed, yet he felt Savannah’s presence haunting his soul.

  “That bad?” Iris said as Hudson hung up.

  “Yeah. That bad.”

  “Never snuck out before?”

  “It’s not just that. Apparently my sister is missing.”

  “What? Is she sneaking off to meet some townie, too?”

  Hudson laughed. “I’m sure she’s just hiding somewhere in the house, probably trying to get me in trouble. God forbid I have a fun night out! I’ll call you later if I can, though I might end up dead. I’ve gotta go.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re safe here. Maybe you can wait for your dad to cool off and go home in the morning. If you need to stay longer, you can. My parents are cool.”

  “I can’t. My dad is gonna kill me. Besides, he’s probably on his way to Josh’s house right now, and then he’ll be knocking on your door.”

  “Okay then. I kinda hate you for leaving right now. I was excited when I knew you were coming over.”

  “Me, too. I’m so sorry.” I have to go! “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They awkwardly hugged — too quickly for her, judging by the way she held tight, and too lingering for him — then he tore from her house, into the Land Rover, and onto the road, still slightly buzzed.

  Hudson raced toward Galloway Manor, weighing consequences in his head. He was totally, thoroughly dead. Dad had said Hazel was gone, too. What the hell was she doing out of the house? He couldn’t have seen that coming.

  And then he realized the implication …

  They lost the house and the money.

  They were screwed.


  CRAP!

  Hudson looked down at the phone and wondered if he should call Dad, then figured that no, that would be a definite mistake. He should use his drive time to think up a decent way out of this mess. There had to be one. He didn’t want to lie, and knew how much worse it would be if he did, but this was the screw-up of all screw-ups — one he might have to pay off forever.

  His phone rang on the seat. Hudson ignored it and pressed the gas pedal harder.

  No lies: He would march straight up to Dad and apologize. Admit what he did, and why he did it. Dad was fifteen once, too. He would’ve done the same thing if he’d had the chance to hook up with a seventeen-year-old girl, especially one as pretty as Iris. Hudson didn’t have to say that, exactly, but maybe Dad would at least sort of understand, and maybe only sort of kill him.

  But what about the money and the house? Maybe they could get Carter, or whoever oversaw these things, to give them one more chance?

  Dad was pulling out of the manor, just passing the gates as Hudson approached. Dad stopped, rolled down his window, and yelled, “Garage. Now!” as if Hudson had anywhere else to go.

  Hudson drove slowly up the winding drive and pulled into the garage. He killed the engine and got out of the Land Rover, holding his hands out in front of him, palms out as his father marched toward him.

  “I’m sorry, Dad! So, so sorry! I was totally wrong. Iris texted me and …”

  “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?”

  Hudson backed away, past the Land Rover until toward the back wall of the garage. He’d seen his dad plenty mad, but never like this. If he was a cartoon, an egg would have been frying on top of his head.

  Maybe this is how he was when he went after Hazel!

  “I’m sorry, Dad! You’re totally right. Let’s just talk. Did you find Hazel?”

  He fell another step back. Dad was huffing and puffing, very clearly about to blow the manor down.

  “Yes, she’s back! Don’t you worry about her. Now, I want to know what the hell you were thinking?”

  “I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking at all. I was being a stupid teenage kid, thinking with my you-know-what. I did the wrong thing, and I’ll make it up to you however I can. Just please, stop looking so mad. You’re scaring me.”