Gun raised, Stephen approached Terrence’s hiding spot.
Don’t move, Terrence. Don’t move. Evelyn wished she could yell. She could see Terrence tense up and get looking for a place to run.
Stephen got closer and closer. Evelyn picked up a rock, ready to throw it at the truck in hopes the car alarm would deter him.
Stephen stopped about six feet from Terrence, scanned the area, and holstered his gun. He walked back to the shed and entered. The light flicked on and he closed the door. Keeping low, Evelyn moved up parallel to the shed and, at a distance, peered through the window as Stephen lifted the cotton mask and looked it in the eyes. By the time Evelyn pulled her phone from her pocket and got the camera ready, Stephen had put the mask away.
Terrence clambered over the fence and gestured for Evelyn to run his way. Reluctant, Evelyn followed after him. When the house was just a black blob in the distance, they slowed their sprint and caught their breath.
“That was too freaking close,” Terrence panted, drenched in sweat.
Hunched, Evelyn rested her palms on her knees. Perspiration glued her blonde hair to her forehead. “It’s him, Terrence. I saw the mask.”
“So him and his twin are the other two killers?”
Evelyn nodded. “That’s my theory. They had our hubcap, too.”
“What? How?”
“He followed us to the motel,” Evelyn said, her mouth still dry from the run.
“But no one knew we were there,” Terrence replied.
“He did,” Evelyn said. “Let’s get back home before he starts looking for us. Tomorrow, we’ll call the cops, tell them about the hubcap robbery, and get them to search Stephen’s shed. If they find the mask, pray to God they arrest him.”
The walk was long and sticky. By the time they reached Quenby House, Evelyn’s feet were screaming to get out of her shoes. With slumped shoulders and defeated eyes, the couple shambled toward to the plantation house.
“I’m not going to be a happy camper if we sleepwalk tonight,” Terrence said as they stumbled through the front door.
“I don’t know how you can still joke after all this,” Evelyn hiked the foyer stairs, using the railing to heave herself up. They reached the master bathroom and climbed into the tube and turned on the upper shower head, washing away the sweat, dirt, and cattle dung.
Still wet, Evelyn and Terrence flopped on their bed and stared at the canopy. Evelyn’s heart still pounded, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the excruciating walk or the encounter with Mary’s killer. A small fear pinged in the back of her mind. Stephen saw you. He is coming.
Under the watchful eye of their Sony video camera, Terrence and Evelyn struggled to keep their eyes shut. Evelyn gripped Terrence’s calloused hands and waited anxiously for dawn to break.
At 3 a.m., something broke.
Evelyn and Terrence shot out of bed at the sound of glass shattering.
They turned to one another, only able to see each other’s silhouette and the whites of their eyes. Evelyn opened the dresser drawer, feeling around for her extendable baton and smartphone. Terrence leaned over the bed. He returned with his fingers coiled around the grip of a wooden slugger.
“Wait here,” Terrence whispered.
“No,” Evelyn replied.
That was the extent of their argument.
Together, they headed for the door. Terrence flipped the light switch with a Band-Aid-wrapped fingertip. No light came to their aid. Before they left the room, Evelyn headed for the oil lamp. Terrence grabbed her wrists and shook his head. He picked up the camera off of its tripod, fiddled with the buttons, and turned on night vision.
Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they looked at the monitor of the camera. Its verdant glow illuminated their sharp chins and eyes. On the screen, the room before them was shades of dark green and black, but clearer than that, the abyss in which they currently stood. To ensure they could both see their path, they needed to walk closely together, constantly bouncing their eyes between the monitor and the real world. If Evelyn had it her way, she’d hold the camera and be on the offensive. But in reality, it would be too jarring. Terrence must’ve realized this, as he handed the camera to Evelyn before tightening his grip on the baseball bat.
One hand on the baton and the other on the camera, Evelyn was ready to see what they’d find. The bedroom door creaked as Terrence pushed it open. They stepped into a hall, hearing the old floorboards groan beneath their weight. Apart from that, the house was as silent as death.
Side by side, Evelyn and Terrence walked the hall, scanning the walls and doors with the camera’s large black lens. They approached the grandiose inner balcony that overlooked the foyer and stopped at the railing. The window nearest the front door was shattered. The howling wind stirred the large curtains, causing them to flap like crimson capes.
Before Evelyn could say call the cops, she saw a figure clad in black with a white cotton mask staring at her from the base of the curved foyer stairs. She didn’t see the gun until the muzzle flash flickered, and the gunshot thundered through the house.
“Run!” Terrence yelled before Evelyn knew what the bullet hit.
They twisted back around, noticing all the hallway doors were slung wide open. What the-- Evelyn couldn’t finish her thought as she heard footsteps racing up the foyer stairs. Evelyn and Terrence ran past the first door: a bedroom with an old bed frame and 19th century marble-topped dresser, but nothing else. In the monitor screen, Evelyn saw the back of a gorgeous woman, late 30s, in a glossy jade dress that accentuated her hourglass body. The woman peered over her shoulder, looking at Evelyn with sultry green eyes. A rivulet of thick blood seeped from her jade neck ribbon into her bosom.
Evelyn’s jaw dropped. She wanted to scream, but nothing escaped her lips. Not even the faintest breath. She kept running and glanced in the next room. It was a spare bathroom that once had a tub full of leaves. In the monitor screen, there was a naked fat man with an oblong head, stretch marks, and sagging tits watching Evelyn run by. A long horizontal slash across his meaty belly revealed his innards.
Evelyn felt her eyes water. Instinctively, she followed Terrence into the third door.
The nursery.
As soon as they stepped through the door, it slammed shut, along with every door in the hallway. Terrence cursed. Evelyn shushed him. The blood had left her face and she couldn’t remember the last time she blinked.
The wall paint was pink and chipped. The bed was tiny and broken in on itself. A massive dollhouse—an exact replica of the plantation--rested on a big table. On the floor, toys and dolls from a bygone era sat in a semi-circle facing Evelyn and Terrence.
Through the thin walls, they could hear footsteps moving through the hall. A nearby door opened and slammed shut.
Stepping over the spectating toys, Evelyn rushed to the window. She put down the camera and the baton and tried to slide open the window. Seeing her struggle, Terrence rushed over to assist her. He grimaced as he put his damaged fingertips under the window.
“It’s jammed,” Terrence barked.
Evelyn tried to lift it again. Her face turned cherry red. A vein bulged in her neck. The window didn’t budge. Winded, she turned to Terrence. “Hide.”
Another door opened. It was closer. Much closer.
Terrence rushed behind the dollhouse and ducked under the table. Grabbing her equipment, Evelyn rolled under the broken bed. Feathers from the split-open mattress brushed across her swollen nose.
The doorknob jiggled.
Evelyn laid on her belly. She watched the door swing inward and the masked figure step inside. In the darkness and clad in black, the stranger looked like a floating head. He kept his gun in both hands. He slowly scanned the room, eyeing the corners. His muddy boot stomped a doll. Cocking his head, he studied the odd arrangement of toys. He stepped toward the bed.
Click.
Down the hall, the bedroom lamp flickered on and spilled golden light across the hall. The masked
figure turned back and walked out of the nursery to investigate.
Evelyn crawled out from under the bed, and Terrence removed himself from behind the dollhouse. He removed his cell phone and dialed 911. A mechanical high-pitch screech rang into his ear. Terrence quickly pulled it away and looked at the phone that had just spontaneously fried its circuitry. His already horrified expression became ten times worse.
Grabbing the camera and the baton, Evelyn tiptoed to the doorway and peeked her head out, seeing the lights on in the master bedroom but no sign of the figure. With her baton, Evelyn gestured for Terrence to follow her into the hallway. Sprinting silently, they ran out into the hallway and to the balcony railing.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Bullets zipped past their heads. Staying low and zigzagging, Terrence and Evelyn separated and dashed down the left and right side of the stairs. Evelyn tripped on the third step and watched the world spin as she careened headfirst down to the bottom of the steps. She landed with a thunk! She mouthed a scream and clenched the top of her head. Hundreds of black specks danced in her peripherals. Eyes watering, she looked up from the floor and the muddy boot in front of her.
Trembling, Evelyn glanced up at the figure with a white mask arcing a woodcutting axe over its head. The glistening edge cut through the air and down on Evelyn’s pretty face. She rolled to the side as the axe head slammed into the wood.
Still on the ground, Evelyn reached out for her baton that had rolled against the wall.
The female figure yanked the axe from the floor, leaving behind a two-inch deep notch in the hardwood.
Evelyn swatted the baton against the figure’s knee. The stranger grunted as their leg bent inward.
“Get away from her!” Terrence shouted as he charged the axe woman and swung the bat. The slugger bashed in the figure’s forehead and it staggered back, a crimson rose blooming on the white cotton mask. Terrence brought the bat down on the figure again, knocking the stranger prone.
“Terrence,” Evelyn screamed.
Her husband turned back to the inner balcony railing and the mask aiming a gun at him. He opened fire.
Suddenly, all the lights in the mansion flickered. The jiggles of arcade machines screamed through the house, louder than the gunfire that rained down on Evelyn and Terrence. The front door was too far. They ran for the nearest exit, leaving the cracked video camera at the bottom of the stairs. The masked gun looked around at the chaos, cursed aloud, and then headed for his limp partner’s axe.
Evelyn and Terrence dashed through the hall of portraits. The lifeless, painted eyes seemed to follow their trek.
“This way,” Evelyn commanded and stopped before the portrait of her overweight ancestor. She pushed aside the corner, revealing a keyhole. She pulled out her key fob and shoved the proper key within. Terrence guarded her back. The key clicked and a three-foot wide rectangular portion of the wall opened from floor to ceiling, revealing a tight, dusty corridor with walls made of unpainted wooden slats.
“He’s coming!” Terrence yelled. Evelyn didn’t look back. She pressed onward toward her father’s hidden study. Terrence slammed the secret door behind them and followed.
THUMP!
An axe battered the portrait wall.
Evelyn and Terrence pushed through the study door that was already battered from an assault a decade ago. The hinges were warped. The wood around the doorknob was splintered. The lock was broken.
THUMP!
The flickering light and screaming arcade sounds seeped through the new hole in the wall behind them.
Evelyn and Terrence slammed the door behind them and shoved a chair under the knob. Terrence rubbed his hand up his bald head. “He’s going to smash through that wall within the next five minutes.”
Evelyn felt her heart cramp. She put her hands on her father’s desk, shifting her thoughts away from the horrific and the unexplainable to how she would survive.
“We’re going to need to make a stand,” Evelyn declared.
Terrence’s jaw tightened. He nodded. “Two of us. One of him.”
“We get rid of his gun, we win,” Evelyn said, wiping sweat from her brow.
THUMP!
She turned back to Terrence. “I’m sorry I brought you down here. We should’ve stayed in Detroit.”
“Hey,” Terrence brushed aside a hair from Evelyn’s cheek with his bandaged thumb. “No time for regrets. Besides, we’ve faced worse odds.”
Evelyn cracked a smile. “You only lie that bad when you’re trying to get into my pants.”
“Can you fault me?”
Wood cracked and the mumbled curses of the masked figure could be heard through the three-foot wide corridor.
Evelyn and Terrence turned to the concealed study door.
“He’s here,” Evelyn said, their moment ending.
Boots thumped through the corridor and an axe head slammed into the study door. Evelyn and Terrence stood on either side of the doorway, ready to hit the masked man the moment he breached.
Evelyn’s skin crawled as the room temperature plummeted twenty degrees. She noticed Terrence’s teeth chattering and felt someone’s eyes on her. Both Terrence and her twisted back to the seven-year-old little blonde girl and the tall, white masked figure standing beside her.
Both Evelyn and Terrence froze in fear.
The axe splintered the door’s face inward.
While looking at Evelyn with emotionless blue eyes, freckle-faced Mary Sullivan raised her right arm and pointed at the mahogany desk.
Evelyn and Terrence turned to one another. The axe head punched a hole between them. It started to wiggle free.
Mary kept pointing at the desk.
The man with the white mask watched Evelyn through the black button-sized eye holes on his tight white cotton mask.
Evelyn dashed to the desk and looked across the piles of old documents on top. “What is it?” she screamed at Mary.
The little girl remained emotionless and silent.
The axe punched another hole into the door, spitting splinters on the floor.
Terrence readied his bat. He bounced his eyes between the door and his wife.
Evelyn saw a finger-sized hole on the floorboards beneath the desk cubby. Using her index finger, she opened the trapdoor, revealing a circular pit, tight enough for a person, black as tar and similarly endless. Evelyn gulped and turned back to Terrence.
The axe smashed through the door. One more hit and the gunman would have enough space to aim his gun.
Evelyn didn’t wait for that. She nodded at Terrence and slid into the abyss.
She slid down the slick metal chute, feeling jets of wind against her face. Maybe she was a fool to trust the little girl. Evelyn would know when she hit the bottom. The tunnel twisted and a moment later, she was free falling into a black pit.
Bottom first, she hit the ground. She gasped in pain as something jabbed into her thigh. Her hands felt something hard, dry, and chalky. Her eyes tried adjusting to the darkness. They didn’t. The world was black and cold. She lifted her thigh and grabbed hold of the curved pointy thing that nearly pierced her flesh. She pulled it free. The wound was tender but didn’t feel deep.
The ceiling grumbled and spit Terrence out. Evelyn moved to the side to allow him to crash down nearby. He groaned. “The trapdoor shut behind me... Where the hell are we?”
“I don’t know,” Evelyn whispered. “I can’t see anything.”
Evelyn felt someone grab her shoulder.
“It’s me,” Terrence said.
Evelyn stayed tense.
Around the room, lantern hinges on pointed metal hooks lit up. Their tiny flames cast an amber glow throughout the massive room, across its brick walls, and down its cratered floor. Evelyn and Terrence sat at the center, bathing in dry bones. Evelyn dropped the curved pointy thing--a human rib--into the rest of the pile of human vertebrae, pelvises, femurs, and skulls.
Before she could process the horror, footsteps approached from all sid
es. Evelyn looked up from the pile of bones and saw the emotionless people surrounding her: the sexy slashed-throat woman in a green dress, the naked fat man with a horizontal cut across his torso, a teenage goth girl bleeding from the back of her head, an old man in a sweater vest with blood flowing from his lips, a seventeen-year-old boy in a football jersey missing his right wrist, and sweet Mary Sullivan.
Terrence pulled close to Evelyn and stuttered. Evelyn held him tightly, feeling his warmth for the last time. Tears streamed down her face. “What do you want from us?” she screamed.
Mary locked eyes with them. With her small, childish voice, she said, “Help us.”
The others echoed her plea. “Help us. Help us. Help us.”
Their cries grew louder and louder, echoing off the brick walls where Evelyn first heard the sound of scratching.
The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Book 1
11
Black Bird
Clad in black and pasty-skinned, fifteen-year-old Zoey Pinkerton shielded her eyes from the oncoming high beams. The light bounced with the vehicle as it sped down a cattle pasture-flanked road. Like most nights in Adders, Georgia, the world was an inky black void. Just the way Zoey liked it. Or at least that’s how she branded herself with her use of black eyeliner, black hair dye, and black lipstick. In truth, she loved nature, animals, and art of all varieties. She was even a sucker for those cheesy rom-coms her other girlfriends enjoyed, though she’d never admit it.
The car slowed to a stop beside her. It was an expensive, fuel-efficient BMW. Zoey crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow.
The window rolled down. The black interior of the car shrouded all but the man’s soft hands. Hands that had never worked a day in their life. It was probably another middle-aged creep looking for a cheap thrill with “damaged goods.” Even in a small town like Adders, pigs like this weren’t that rare.
The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery Page 12
