by Price, E A
Chapter Three
As she parked her little compact and lugged the fugly mirror out of the passenger seat, an eerie quiet had settled over the house. The house was called Lucifer’s Hall for some unexplained reason. Kylie had once tried to ask Bea what the significance was, and if the Hall was actually supposed to belong to the devil. Bea had just waved her hand airily and changed the subject.
The place had scared the bejeezus out of Kylie at first. It was like an amalgamation of every haunted house from every bad movie ever made. The Addams family had nothing on this baby. It wasn’t exactly a house or a mansion in the strictest sense of either word. It was more like a hodgepodge. Like someone had constructed it from whatever debris they could find. Which was most likely the case. Parts of it appeared to have been formed from ruined English castles, others from old French Chateaus and there were even hints of medieval churches in there. When you first looked at it, the word monstrous sprang to mind. However, after repeated visits, and promises that it wasn’t actually haunted, a certain charm could be discerned, and if you squinted really hard, you might even mistake it for a fairytale palace. Naturally, that depended on your level of alcohol consumption at the time.
At first Kylie had found the overhanging gargoyles, flaring their cold, stony eyes at her, a little off-putting. But she was used to them now, even going so far as to give them a friendly salute whenever she made her way into the house. Rather than frightening ornaments she looked on them more as valiant guards. Their fierce countenances could scare the hardiest of burglar away.
Kylie gave the obligatory nod to the two gargoyles over the door; she had affectionately named them Clint and Eastwood. Apparently they were rescued from some kind of Transylvanian church.
She hauled the heavy mirror up to the house, grunting and muttering about the lack of help she was receiving. The diminutive and humped Professor Hardcastle was about ninety pounds wet through, but he did have staff members who usually came out to help. Where was all the love?
The front door was ajar slightly. Balancing the mirror with a raised knee, she tapped on the door. It groaned as it limped open. She took a step inside, puffing and panting, at the weight she was carrying. “Hello? Anyone there?” She groaned at the distinct lack of response. “Irritated lady trying to deliver a mirror here,” she mumbled.
Unhurriedly, and with the normal blank look he always adopted, Gustave came into view and marched toward her. Gustave was the only full-time staff member that Hardcastle had. He didn’t really have a title, but Kylie figured he was like Alfred to – snigger – Hardcastle’s Batman. Gustave was a middle-aged and solid looking man who seemed to have lost the ability to smile a long time ago.
“Miss Summers,” he droned in his bland voice. “May I take that from you?”
“Indeed you may,” she grumbled, happily handing over her heavy burden.
“Professor Hardcastle is in his study. If you’ll follow me.”
With that, Gustave set off at what he probably thought was a gentle speed, apparently completely unaffected by the mirror he carried. However, with his long legs it actually took a vigorous trot for Kylie to keep up with him. Gustave was an old fashioned kind of member of staff, who wouldn’t take offense if you called him a servant. As far as Kylie could tell he was a butler-valet-chauffer who dabbled in cooking and cleaning. He was also very reticent and uninterested in small talk, not that this stopped Kylie.
“I met Andrew Hardcastle in the driveway,” she puffed while regretting ever giving up on aerobics.
“Yes, Miss,” came the near automatic reply.
They vaulted down corridor after corridor filled with various antiques and horrifying stuffed animals. If Kylie had thought about it at the time, she would have actually paid attention to the route they were taking.
“Will he be staying here?”
“I am not privy to Mr. Hardcastle’s plans.” It could have been a haughty reply, but it wasn’t, it was just honest. That was the thing about Gustave, he wasn’t friendly, but he wasn’t mean either.
Kylie hitched up her skirt as they clambered a narrow staircase. Unperturbed by the blood from a stone reaction, she persisted in her grilling. “Does he visit often?”
“His visits are sporadic.”
“I’ve never seen him here before.”
Gustave stopped in front of a massive – presumably oak – door. It had a handle in the shape of a bear’s head. He fixed her with a typically stormless gaze. “No. Mr. Hardcastle usually visits when Professor Hardcastle is in his New York home. I understand that Mr. Hardcastle has an abode there.”
Kylie blinked at him in pleasurable surprise. That was surely the most information Gustave had ever imparted to her. She knew that Professor Hardcastle was wealthy and travelled fairly often, but she had no idea he had a home in New York. Gustave opened his mouth as if he was about to impart a further nugget when a crotchety voice floated through the door.
“Are you going to stand out there boring the young woman to death, Gus, or are you going to show her in?”
Other than a pinking of the ears, Gustave didn’t react. He pushed open the door, and motioned for Kylie to follow. It was a room she had never seen before and, therefore, she couldn’t hide her gasp. If she thought the corridors were cluttered with knick-knacks and curios, it was nothing compared to this room.
Professor Hardcastle’s study was indeed inundated with furniture, suits of armor, statues, and more horrific stuffed animals that would make Bates Motel envious… it was a wonder that anyone ever made it out of there alive. Surely there were lost tribes living in there somewhere. It took her a few moments to actually spot the professor. It was like looking at a really tricky picture of Where’s Waldo. At least Waldo was kind enough to wear a stripy shirt; the professor usually wore a ragged, brown jumper. With his nut like face, browned from too much sun and wrinkled from too many birthdays, he was generally camouflaged against any piece of furniture he happened to be standing next to.
The professor looked up from behind an enormous ornate desk, carved with dragons. It looked like it belonged in an opium den. He gave her a sneer. His friendly sneer, though. It was the one he reserved for people he liked, and he didn’t like many people. Oddly enough, Kylie numbered in the few. She didn’t know why, but she suspected it was because she didn’t pretend to agree with him on any subject under the sun. Plus, she could be pretty darn bitchy when she wanted. He seemed to enjoy that. She wasn’t a bitchy person or an argumentative one as a rule, but she tended to be honest and her tongue could be pretty darn wicked especially when you caught her at an emotional time of the month.
“Is that it?” He nodded his head at the package the silent and stoic Gustave was holding.
“Yes, that’s it,” she replied with a slight mocking lilt. “I didn’t just bring another mirror out for the sheer joy of taking it for a walk.” Honestly, she wouldn’t be so rude if she didn’t know that he enjoyed it so much. She once snapped at him in a PMS mood, and they hadn’t looked back. Course these snide little remarks were few and far between; she generally only worked up the courage for a couple each day.
The professor snorted a laugh that became a wheeze. “Set it down over there.” He pointed with what looked like a chopstick in the direction of a wingback chair. The chair already contained the head of a white lion, which was soon deposited on a wobbling pile of hardback books. Carefully and precisely, Gustave pulled away the wrappings.
“Thank you, Gus,” muttered the professor, absently as he maneuvered his way around numerous piles of – the only name she could give it was - paraphernalia.
“Sir,” droned the enormous man as he carefully made his way out of the room.
Kylie bit her lip. It shouldn’t be funny, but the huge, detached man did not look like a Gus. That was a mouse that helped Cinderella sew a gown.
She shuffled from foot to foot as Hardcastle surveyed the mirror through – above all things – an eyeglass. He muttered barely audible things to
himself, and Kylie didn’t bother to ask him to speak a little louder. If she asked, he might actually do it. Not a mistake she was going to make twice. She really didn’t need to know the ins and outs of taxidermy.
She glanced around the room and noticed that there was a huge gargoyle shunted to one side. Big though it was, even that was masked against everything else populating the room. It wasn’t like either of the two by the front door, which were modeled on lions. This one was more human looking. Except, the statue was in disrepair and missing half its face.
“Poor guy,” muttered Kylie.
“What was that?” snapped the professor, still otherwise engrossed with the mirror.
Kylie felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. Undoubtedly, he would think she was an idiot for thinking of statues as people rather than hunks of stone. “Nothing… ah, just the gargoyle. Poor guy, missing half his face.” She laughed timidly, trying to pass it off as a joke.
Hardcastle didn’t think it was funny. But he didn’t turn to look at her with an expression that said she was an outright loon either. No, he continued looking at the mirror, completely unfazed. “He’s fixable, and thankfully he’s not one of the priceless ones.”
“He looks pretty old.” Although, her expertise on the value of ‘old things’ was pretty limited. As far as she could tell people would pay extortionate amounts of money for hideous items that Kylie couldn’t bear to look at, never mind display them in her living room. While people sneered at her vintage salt and pepper shakers in the shape of a moose and a bear that she considered to be irreplaceable. She was really no judge of what anything was worth.
“Oh, he is, which is why I plan to restore him and perhaps send him to one of my other homes. No, it’s not age that makes the gargoyles valuable.”
They lapsed into silence again, and Kylie’s mind started wandering as she looked around the cavernous room. She avoided the many animal heads who all appeared to be staring at her with an expression that said ‘why me?’.
“Everything okay?” she asked after five minutes. That was the polite way of saying, ‘gimme the money so I can go home and curl up in bed with some chocolate fudge cake and a racy book and pretend I’m someone else’. Hey, no one said her life was glamorous or even interesting for that matter.
The professor let out a huff of disgust and straightened his back, as far as he could at least. “It’s crap.”
“Oh.” Kylie glanced around the room, nervously. “Bea said it was worth…”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m sure plenty of idiots would pay a large amount of money for it. It’s just useless for my purpose.”
She frowned. “Looking at your reflection?” What the heck else would he want it for?
“Hmmm?” He gave her a dazed look as if she had suggested that he put it on his head and wear it as a hat. “Not your fault, of course,” he continued, sadly.
“Ah… no…”
“Still, you’ll want paying.”
“Ah… yes…” This deflated professor, this quiet professor - he was something new, and very disconcerting.
Hardcastle pulled some crumpled hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and thrust them at her as lightly as if they were singles. “You can see yourself out?” he asked, rhetorically as he wended his way back to his desk, the mirror completely forgotten.
“Sure, nice to see you again,” she mumbled as she pushed the bills into her purse and gingerly stepped over what appeared to be a – shudder – shrunken head.
“You met my nephew, didn’t you?” he called, freezing her hand on the doorknob.
Kylie turned and squinted back at him, trying to discern his face through the clutter. “Sure, on the way in.”
“Absolute wastrel,” sneered the professor, but not in a friendly way.
“He seemed…” She paused as she searched for an adequate term to describe him. None was forthcoming. If she said nice, he’d know she was lying. Thankfully, he didn’t press her on the matter.
“Last of my family,” he lamented, almost entirely to himself she was sure. “No one to carry on my legacy…”
“You wanna talk about it?” she offered, lamely. It was an offer borne out of politeness, and one that she was sure would be rejected immediately.
“No… at least… not today…” He slammed a wrinkled, brown fist down on his desk, and his face looked downright furious.
Kylie was sure he was just being melodramatic, so she fixed a bright smile on her face. “Well, have a nice day. Or at least, try to.”
She ducked out of the room and tried not to let out a huge sigh of relief. Wow. He was usually cranky, but she’d never seen him maudlin.
Belatedly, she realized she was actually in the middle of the maze-like house and had no idea how she ended up there. She hissed Gustave’s name a couple of times before giving that up as a lost cause. She did consider asking the professor for help, but upon hearing him barking ‘useless thing’, and given the sound of breaking glass which swiftly followed, she decided against it and set out to find her own way back to the front door.
It was just a house. How hard could it be?
Chapter Four
How freaking hard could it be?! She could kick herself sometimes. What was all that guff earlier about making better life choices? Naturally, she’d be found eventually, probably in three weeks time, half starved and with a severe vitamin D deficiency from not having seen sunlight in a really long time. But how embarrassing would it be to admit that she got lost in someone’s house and needed rescuing?
She tried another door and found herself facing another linen closet. How much linen did one house need? She considered standing stock-still and just screaming for help. Gustave would probably find her after a couple of hours.
Kylie wasn’t unfamiliar with embarrassment. Growing up she’d been the chubby, weird girl. The fact that she didn’t have parents, moved around a lot and was generally always the new girl at school made her a target for universal bullies. Yeah, kids, in general, were little shits. Pranks had been played on her, mostly involving her walking straight into them due to her wide-eyed naiveté. Hint – if the school bully happens to give you a chocolate pudding - it isn’t out of the kindness of her heart - it has laxatives in it.
Most recently, of course, there was the incident with her best friend and her fiancé. On reflection, she could see that they had been running around behind her back for months. Yeah, there was no way they had been spending time planning her birthday party together as they had claimed at the time. It’s just that Kylie was too naïve and too trusting to think otherwise. Sure, she made snarky comments now and again, and yes, she could be downright nosy, but really she was a trusting person and – sigh – kind of sweet. The girl next door, she thought, gloomily. That’s what one of her high school boyfriends called her, as he was dumping her. Shame he wanted a sex siren then.
A wave of anger overtook her; anger at all the people who had laughed at her, anger at her so-called best friend and fiancé who had probably laughed themselves stupid about her behind her back. Kylie shook her head. No, no more. She had spent far too much of her life feeling embarrassed and silly. She wasn’t going to be the butt of anyone’s joke anymore. She would find her way out of this damn house even if it killed her!
With renewed determination, Kylie strode down corridor after corridor. She snickered almost hysterically as she thought about what a shame it was that she didn’t have any bread to drop crumbs.
Kylie almost cried out in relief as she found a door – a door to the outside! You could tell that’s what it was by the light streaming through its glass panels. She twisted the handle and yes! It was unlocked. She made her way out into the glorious sunlight and gulped down the clean air. It was at that point that she realized she’d only actually been in the house for ten minutes. And also that she had her phone with her. If push came to shove, she could have called for help. She waved a hand to disperse the logical thoughts. The point was that she was
free. Free to… ah… explore the gardens. Huh.
She knew the house had gardens – extensive ones that could happily be home to about three herds of cows and room for so much more - it was just that she’d never been near them. A high wall separated them from the driveway and extended around the entire property. There was speculation about what happened within those walls. Kylie’s favorite was that the professor had lots of erotic displays of topiary animals having sex with one another. Well, it was a more interesting suggestion than simply the fact that he liked his privacy and didn’t want any of the town children getting in.
The gardens were much like the house – unruly. She considered returning to the house but found the outdoors was infinitely preferable. Less chance of suffocation.
Gingerly, she set forth. Only giggling lightly as the wild grass tickled her ankles. Although she was a little concerned about snakes. They didn’t have snakes in Maine did they? She’d heard that something called a Wendigo was a native – and to watch out for that – but she’d never heard anyone mention anything about snakes.
Kylie smiled as various bees and butterflies buzzed and fluttered, flitting from flower to flower. It was unkempt, sure, but it was beautiful in its own way. It looked like it had been designed for a winsome heroine to flit through while lamenting the fact that her mean, old uncle won’t let her marry the stable boy.
There was evidence that it had been well tended at one point in its life – but that was long over. Bea told her that the professor bought the house ten years ago. It had been in the previous owner’s family since it was built over a hundred years ago, but the line had ended with him. Following his sudden death, the house came up for auction and the professor snapped it up.
Apparently, Hardcastle didn’t have quite the same passion for gardening as the previous owner. It was doubtful that anything had been done to the gardens since he became the owner. Although, surprisingly, in spite of its overgrown state of being, there was a well-worn path to follow, as if someone came out to the gardens and took a specific route on a regular basis. Well, in for a penny…
