by E. R. Mason
Demon's Well
by
E.R. Mason
Copyright 2015 by E.R. Mason
All rights reserved
All characters in this book are fictional
and any resemblance to persons living
or dead is purely coincidental
ISBN: 978-0-692-40767-7
EDITOR:
Tom Macomber
contact info:
[email protected]
Special Advisors:
Neil Beresford
Northamton, Northamptonshire, UK
Steve Hanrahan
Chelmsford, Essex, UK
"My Luftwaffe is invincible . . . And so now we turn to England. How long will this one last - two, three weeks?"
Hermann Goring - June 1940
Chapter 1
For such a legendary ghost house the old mansion did not seem particularly menacing, even in the shadowy gloom of early evening. The place did possess a certain emptiness beyond that of abandonment; a mournful hollowness conjured up by faint, ghostly howls of despair carried in the stale wind. It was old and Victorian. Brown brick with embedded designs, tall bay windows trimmed in white. Several tall chimneys within the mansard roofing accented elaborate cornice architecture. Failing turret tiles were burnished faintly in gold that still reflected the setting sun as the shadows grew like threatening phantoms and warped in the fading light. The cry of a lonely animal lamented the slow death of the place.
Willow trees lined the overgrown drive ending at a dying grand oak guarding the front entrance. To the east, a long, run-down dairy barn with ragged silo rising leaned in the distance. Beyond it, a dense forest bordered the east property line. No one ever came to this place anymore. Ghost stories and rumors kept most trespassers away.
Jax Eaton did not believe in ghosts. Although he was born in the U.S., he had spent most of his life in England where many homes appeared old or Victorian. He eyed this mansion’s portico, an entrance that would provide enough concealment to force open a side door. Overgrown bushes and vine made its stone steps almost inaccessible, but if breaking in and exploring this old place would impress the object of his desire, then the task had to be considered imperative. Just getting this close to her had not been easy. The girl was keeping secrets. She was as mysterious as she was desirable.
Jax dared a sideward glance at the enchanting Skyla Corina. She was standing so close the gentle evening breeze was lifting her fine reddish-brown hair against him. The scent of her perfume carried across his face. She seemed indifferent to the closeness but then there was never a way to really know what she was thinking. Nothing about her was easy to understand. She was not glamorous, but she was irresistible. She claimed to be from a poor family, but her clothes fit too well. The grey-blue bedroom eyes required very little makeup. Fine delicate lines formed the rose-colored lips, and there was a natural touch of pink in the softness of her cheeks. She claimed never to work out, but her figure was as perfect as the rest of her. Even more perplexing, Skyla was not always truthful.
The deceit was unmistakable. After school, she would accept rides home from him, but not all the way. She had to be dropped off at least a street or two away. She would not say exactly why. He had dared to secretly follow her on two occasions, but both times she had vanished into the dark alleys of the run-down neighborhood.
A tug at Jax’s shirt sleeve snapped him back to reality. Remy Summerfield, his best friend stood on his opposite side, scowling. Remy was pudgy and slightly overweight, standard physique for a techno geek who spent most waking hours seated in front of a monitor. Remy shook a lock of black hair out from in front of his face and spoke in a half-hearted whisper. “The place creeps me out. Let’s duck out of here.”
Hoping Skyla wouldn’t hear, Jax leaned in and tried to sound reassuring. “It’s just an old house, Rem. Wood, nails, and peeling paint, nothing more. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Yeah, what about all those people over the years? What about them?”
“Tall tales, Rem. Scary stories by a campfire. They’re nothing.”
“The James brothers weren’t nothing. I knew those guys.”
“They took off with that rock band. Everybody knows that. They didn’t disappear. Come on, already.”
“There’s more besides them. It’s some kind of conspiracy.”
“Not that again. I never should have asked you to Google the place.”
“We’re not going down into the basement, right?”
“You laddies getting scared without your Mummies, are you?” Skyla asked mockingly.
Jax flushed. “Gimme a break. Ready when you are.”
“You at least got a lantern for me?” asked Remy.
Jax drew a small penlight from his breast pocket and handed it over. Remy scowled and took it.
“Why are you armchair warriors talking in such low tones? There’s nobody around here for miles. We need to get along. It’s almost dark.” Skyla gave Jax a gentle push forward.
“Yeah but the police patrol this place from time to time. It’d be just our luck to get picked up,” replied Remy.
Skyla ignored the warning and looked at Jax. “Can you get that door open without making too much of a mess?”
“There’s not even a deadbolt. I’ll pop it open in a wink.”
“Let’s go then, wussies.” Skyla trotted off across the open lawn and took cover in bushes by the portico door.
Jax rolled his eyes, glanced at his disapproving friend, and dashed off after her. At the steps he feigned disinterest in his heart’s desire, paused briefly to look around, then climbed to the portico door. Pulling a screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans, he jammed it in the seam of the frame and cracked the weathered wood until the latch jumped free from the strike plate. As an out of breath Remy caught up, Jax brushed away the leaves and branches dragging beneath, then opened the door enough to slip inside.
The air smelled musty. Dim light leaked through colorless, ragged curtains. As Jax’s eyes struggled to focus, the other two pushed in behind him and bumped up too close as though they were both afraid. All three flashlights switched on simultaneously. There was a small dust-covered reception area ahead. Coat racks on the right were back-dropped by peeling, faded wallpaper. An antique table stood tilted on the left, covered with small creature footprints in a deep layer of dust. Overhead, there was an ancient hanging lamp with cobwebs and below it rotten brown carpet. Closed double doors offered a room beyond.
Remy spoke. “Well, I’ve seen enough. Ready to leave?”
Skyla sneered. Jax ignored them both and went to the double doors. He tucked his light under one arm, twisted the knobs and pushed the doors open. Bouncing flashlight beams revealed a large cobweb-covered sitting room amply decorated with antiques.
“What the hell? All the furniture is still here!” said Remy. “See!”
“The demons just walked away from this place,” suggested Jax.
“Nope,” replied Remy. “They took a second mortgage to try to get their business going again. They were still trying to make it.”
“Ooo, Demon’s Lair!” Skyla teased.
“It’s pronounced de-moan, not demon,” replied Remy. He hesitated a moment then stepped up beside Jax. “I hear a clicking noise.”
The three paused and scanned their lights around the room. Somewhere from the shadows a constant, repetitive ticking sound interrupted the emptiness. As Jax and Remy scoured the area for an answer, Skyla broke away and disappeared into the darkness, her beam floating in the air like an apparition.
“There’s no electricity here. What’s gonna be making a noise in a place like this?” asked Remy.
“Over here, children,” called Skyla in still another tease.
�
�For gosh sake, keep it down,” insisted Remy.
“There’s no one here, Rambo. It’s this grandfather clock, that’s all,” said Skyla.
Jax and Remy followed her light and stood staring at the dusty, intricately carved clock in the corner of the room. The pendulum was swinging behind the glass door. The clock face read 6:10.
“I wouldn’t be too sure no one’s here,” replied Jax in a normal voice. “Someone must’ve reset the weights in this thing.”
The three explorers froze in a moment of doubt, listening for the sounds of undesirable company.
Skyla shrugged it off. “How long can a clock like this run on one setting?”
Remy responded, “Twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Jax is right. Someone’s been here.”
“Well there’s no one here now. Let’s go,” she insisted.
The dim light through the ragged window curtains had all but faded away. Following jumping flashlight beams, they crept from room to room, pausing occasionally to brush away cobwebs, each room a different version of dreary abandonment. In the large kitchen, dirty dishes still waited in the sink. Serving plates were scattered across the dust-covered counter tops amid rags and rodent droppings.
Remy kept stopping to brush at his hair, fearing spiders or bugs. “Haven’t you seen enough?” he complained as the other two continued on ahead. He hurried to catch them, but to his dismay, in the adjoining dining area Skyla’s light found a stairwell. Immediately she went to it and started up followed by Jax. Remy hurried along and grabbed the handrail then scoffed and stopped to wipe the dust from his hand.
The mansion’s second floor was as desolate as the rest of the house. It was comprised of a stagnant array of dilapidated bedrooms, fully furnished complete with remnants of moldy clothing still hanging in some of the closets. The hallway carpet was so old and rotting it crunched beneath their feet. Pictures on the wall hung unevenly. Wallpaper peeled to the floor in places. As Skyla approached the corridor’s end, Jax dared to reach out and catch her by an arm. “It’s all the same, Sky. There’s nothing else to see.”
“Oh really,” she replied, and she pulled open a small door at hallway’s end. It revealed a narrow staircase leading upward. “Third floor,” she said and with a swipe at cobwebs, she headed upward.
The ascending passageway was so narrow Jax’s shoulders rubbed against the walls. He glanced back at Remy to find him brushing the grime and dirt from his sleeves. Remy paused and looked up. “She’s daft, you know? All this just because you fancy her, Jax-man?” he said.
Jax rolled his eyes and continued up.
The third floor was actually an attic divided into several rooms that appeared to have been used to support household staff. Trunks and boxes were stacked everywhere. Still more cobwebs decorated the peaked ceilings. Some doors were only waist high. Warped boards lined the floors. There was the smell of something rotten, though it was impossible to tell what it was or where it was coming from. Periodically the sound of wind whistling through small spaces sounded like whispers from the dark.
All through the exploration, Skyla seemed to be searching for something. Finally, Jax could stand it no longer. “Sky, are we just checking the place out, or are you actually looking for something?”
For the briefest of moments, Skyla seemed uncomfortable. She recovered quickly. “We could look for traces of some of the people who supposedly disappeared here. Just imagine if we found something.”
“So that’s it? You’re playing detective, sort of? Even if you did find something you’d have to turn it in, after which we’d probably be busted.”
“Maybe I want to write a book about this place. Maybe it would make a great story.” Skyla brushed at her sleeves as she continued to wander from room to room.
“I didn’t know you were a writer. You never told me that.”
“Anyone who wants to write can be a writer, silly.”
Remy came up behind them. “Not Jax,” he said. “He flunked English two years in a row.”
Jax cast a look of disgust at his friend. “Thank you! Thank you so much. It was because I didn’t have time to read, not because I couldn’t write.”
Skyla let out a squeaky laugh then coughed to try to cover it up. “That’s it for this floor, boys. On to the basement.”
Remy complained. “Not the basement, you guys . . . Oh, come on!”
As they squeezed into the narrow stairwell and started down, Jax stepped on something and nearly lost his footing. He stopped and fumbled with the flashlight to find it. There, glinting in the light near the wall was a set of keys, half a dozen on a rusty-looking keychain. He stooped and picked them up, holding the light for a better look.
“Oh this is weird,” he said as he thumbed through them. Skyla stopped and came back up to him.
“Let me see,” she said and she took them.
“I can’t tell if they’re real old, or what,” said Jax. Remy peered over his shoulder.
“Two of these are separate and look like car keys,” said Skyla.
“I’ll tell you what it’s about,” insisted Remy. “They were lost by the guy who set the clock. The bank must have somebody coming out here to keep an eye on the place. He keeps the clock running so it won’t freeze up, and he lost his keys on the last visit. It’s for sure he’ll be back to look for them.”
“He’d wait for daylight,” said Jax.
“Which means we can continue,” said Skyla
“Oh brother,” mumbled Remy under his breath.
Skyla headed down the stairs and pushed out the door to the second floor. As they made their way down the hall, she stopped to open a dusty glass cabinet. Jax and Remy squeezed by and went on to the main staircase. As they approached it, there was suddenly a loud creaking like a rusty door opening. They froze and peered cautiously around the corner to look down at the main floor.
On the first floor, double doors to an adjoining room were open. They had not been before. Yellow light was coming from within. As they watched, a dark figure suddenly looked out. Jax and Remy quickly pulled back.
“Oh crap, and now I hear somebody up in the attic!” whispered Remy. “How can that be? We just came from there?”
“What’s downstairs? What did you guys see?” asked Skyla in a hushed tone.
“Somebody in a black uniform. It has to be a bobby. Somebody must have seen our lights in the windows. We’re screwed,” complained Remy.
“I didn’t hear any police cars pull up,” replied Jax.
“It’s for sure they’ll have one to take us away,” moaned Remy.
“It’s a big house. We can get out of here without being seen. They’re probably not even sure anybody’s here. All we need to do is stay out of sight and make a dash for it as soon as the coast is clear,” whispered Skyla.
“Well let’s go then,” said Remy nervously.
“No, no.” Jax held up one hand while sneaking another look around the corner. “We can’t go out the same way we came in. We’d never make it. There was a door on the north side. Go down the stairs, through the living room and out that door. Just follow the edge of the woods back to the car. And, it has to be one at a time and real careful. If we try to charge out of here in a crowd they’ll see us for sure. So, one at a time, we slip around to the north entrance and meet up at the car. Got it?”
Remy stood up straight. “I’ll go first.”
Jax looked at him reassuringly. “No light, right?”
Remy sneered. “Duh . . .”
“Skyla will go after you. I’ll be last. It looks okay down there. Stay below the railing all the way, Rem.”
With a last look of annoyance, Remy crept down the staircase. One large creak caused him to pause worriedly. Jax and Skyla leaned around the corner and watched breathlessly.
At the bottom of the stairs, Remy skirted along one wall and slipped out of sight into the next room.
Jax turned to Skyla. “He’s going to make it. Your turn.”
With a quick look of d
etermination, Skyla pushed by Jax so closely it excited him. She stepped quietly down the stairs never taking her eyes of the lighted room. At the base of the staircase she ducked around the corner and was gone.
Jax readied himself and shook his head. This was exactly the type of situation that always seemed to blow up in his face. But, at least there were no regrets. If he had to do this over again just to get near Skyla, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Jax crept to the top step. Up until now, the stairwell had been friendly. There had been no sagging steps, and only a single creaking board. Halfway down, Jax managed to find the one. Even though he placed his weight with the utmost of care, the board let out a whine and groan that would have awakened the dead. He froze.
From the lighted room there came the sound of a fireplace poker being withdrawn from its holder. A shadow suddenly appeared at the open door. It crept along as though stalking something. Jax hurried down the remaining stairs. It looked as though he could make the turn, but it was not to be. The black suited figure appeared in the doorway holding the poker. Jax dove down below the banister and watched, wide-eyed. Fireplace glow from within the open room flickered like a strobe. The figure paused by the door for a moment, searching.
Jax considered his options. With an all-out run, he might make the woods. On the other hand, if there was a police car and officer out there, he might just run right into them. Why was a cop wielding a fireplace poker, anyway? Either way, this was not the place to be.
Jax dashed into the next room and kept on to the back door. It had been left open for him. On the porch, Remy was still crouched down waiting. Together they ran across the open lawn to the forest edge where Skyla peered out from the bushes.
“You guys were supposed to meet me at the car,” complained Jax.
“I don’t have the keys to Jax’s car. Do you have keys, Remy?” asked Skyla.
“Nope, I do not have any car keys.”
