“Just relax, we’re going to get you out of here.”
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. I’m right here.”
“I can’t…breathe.”
Gavin turned to Betty, who stood watching with her toes barely dragging on the ground. Using every ounce of energy he had left to burn, he threw the crucifix at her like a tomahawk and it bounced off her chest and landed in the weedy backyard. Screaming in frustration, he crumpled at Scotty’s side. “Okay, I’ll do it!” he shouted over the ravenous fire. “Just make him better!”
Betty’s cold eyes lowered to Scotty, who was turning purple now and choking on his own tongue. Slowly shaking her head no, she gently floated away.
“I said, I’ll do it!”
“Gav,” Scotty gasped next to him, pulling at his attention. “Help…me.”
Heart racing, Gavin watch his best friend fight for each breath. “Boone!” he said, looking over his shoulder. “We have to get him to the car!”
Boone rushed over and grabbed Scotty beneath the armpits while Gavin took his legs. “Ready?” Boone panted, lifting him off the ground.
“Hang in there, Scotty!” Gavin cried, carrying him toward the trees.
Unblinking, Scotty stared past them to the tiny pinpricks of light above, mouth stuck open like he was trying to say something but couldn’t get it out. A pale spider wiggled from his mouth and fell to the ground before scurrying into the weeds.
Startling, Gavin dropped Scotty’s legs and stopped walking.
“What’s wrong?” Boone shouted, dragging Scotty closer to the tree line by himself. Gavin didn’t answer and when Boone looked down, he gasped and lowered Scotty to the ground. Spiders streamed from Scotty’s gaping mouth, running over Boone’s boots and disappearing into the overgrowth. Jumping back, Boone yelled things Gavin couldn’t understand because his mind was too busy trying to process the impossible.
“No!” Laney screamed, darting across the yard.
Gavin looked over to see Betty’s long fingers tapdancing on Kelly’s chest now. With a slight jerk of her chin, Betty sent Laney flying sideways across the yard and tumbling through the long grass. Kelly stood in front of Betty like a new student before an old teacher. Her body trembled from head to foot and tears dripped from the bottom of her glasses. Bony-jointed fingers tapped against her chest, catching on her silky costume.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Take me and let the rest of em go,” Teddy sputtered, pushing himself up out of the grass and wiping blood on his jeans. Already swollen to twice its size, red spots covered his right hand like a bad case of chickenpox and it didn’t look like he could move his fingers. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let them go!”
The eyes on the back of Betty’s hands jerked back to Gavin. The piano began to play inside the burning house, flawless notes rising and crashing with the flames as an invisible force played on with animated purpose. Ignoring Teddy’s offer, Betty stared directly at Gavin while patiently drumming those dreadful fingers against Kelly’s chest. Gavin’s eyes fell to Scotty and sorrow consumed him, so dense and dark he could barely see, let alone breathe. His best friend was dead and Kelly was next in line. The clicking suddenly stopped, drawing Gavin’s blurry-eyed gaze back to Betty. Her pale, hairless hands reared back on their haunches and raised two front legs high into the air like some kind of perverse finger-fangs.
Betty’s eyebrows went up, stretching the sallow skin circling her sunken eyes.
The hands waited, their beady little eyes jerking between Betty to Gavin.
Her face tightened.
A clear droplet formed at the end of each fang, reflecting the golden blaze.
Gavin shot a palm out. “Okay!” he said, chest pounding beneath his blue flannel coat. “I’ll do it!”
Smiling brightly, she lifted the spiders from Kelly’s chest with a gleam finally breaking through the churning clouds in her eyes. Kelly tore free from those itchy fingers and ran to Laney who was just now sitting up in the grass and massaging the back of her head. They hugged hard as Betty’s satisfied gaze drifted back to the house, which was now completely engulfed in hungry flames. Clutching her anxious hands to her chest in a maternal gesture that turned Gavin’s stomach, sadness crept into the corners of her eyes.
The piano began missing notes, its impeccable piece straying from focus.
Betty smiled weakly at Roger and Jeffrey in the upstairs window, where the fire climbed the curtains like hell dogs. Her cold lips mouthed something that almost resembled an apology. Some kind of last request for forgiveness perhaps, or at least understanding. The blond-haired boy stepped closer and pressed a palm to the window, mouthing something back. Black tears streamed down Betty’s face in oily rivers as the fire found Jeffrey and his father. Cringing, Roger swept Jeffrey up into his arms and hugged him tightly against his chest. Burying his face in his boy’s neck, he hugged him for all he was worth as the flames consumed their celestial bodies like lumps of worthless coal. They screamed like hell, spraying the night with something wavering between agony and elation. The house glowed brighter. The air turned hotter. Roger and Jeffrey cried out in pain, holding onto one another like this might be the last time. Their charred bodies twisted and merged and their final bout of merciless suffering was unfair and torturous to watch but Gavin couldn’t look away. Strained and melting, their faces changed into horrific forms and, with one last burst of white light, they were gone. The blaze brightened, sending embers and smoke spiraling into the sky.
Gavin spun back around, not surprised to find Betty gone as well, and he could only wonder where she would float next. She was trapped here in this world and that single thought made him quiver with fear. He would never be the same now, always looking under the bed and screaming awake in the night. Forever haunted by something not of this world. Joining the others huddled around Scotty’s lifeless body, he let his dead friend’s unseeing eyes etch a grotesque picture into his mind that time could never dull. The image would always be sharp and cut like broken glass. Betty’s soft whisper wormed through Gavin’s mind, tickling his ear and bristling the hairs on the back of his neck. She couldn’t be serious.
Could she?
Exhaling a defeated breath that lowered his shoulders, he dug the heel of a cowboy boot into a scrambling spider until it was good and dead.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Crucifaxe
Present Day
Forcing another bite of my wife’s infamous pot roast into my mouth, I chase it with a swig of beer and try chewing faster. I wasn’t hungry but knew I’d need my energy, not to mention I didn’t want her to think anything was wrong. My eyes keep drawing to Pincher. He was still pale and skinny, and the hairless patches dotting his eyebrows told me that, after all these years, his nervous tic was still alive and kicking. And judging by the shine on his head, maybe he’d been pulling his hair out as well. Pincher took things the hardest, which is why he quit the whole thing just over ten years ago and I never blamed him. The operations we ran in those houses, funeral homes, churches and hospitals weren’t natural. They were dangerous. The meat in my mouth seems to regenerate with every grind of my teeth, taxing my jaw muscles. We all had our tics after those despicable jobs. Mine was paranormal-prepping and Boone’s was fast cars and women.
“How’s Laney?” Boone asks, breaking the silence and sending a barbed cringe slicing through me.
Kelly slowly looked up from her plate, seeming uncertain if he was talking to her. “She’s good,” she finally replies, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Before Boone could pour more gas on the fire, Pincher jumped in and changed tracks. “I can’t believe Scotty would’ve been thirty-six next month.”
Grimacing, I give up on chewing and attempt to swallow. The mushed ball of meat squeezes into my throat like a racquet ball, widening my neck and threatening to block my airway. Eyes watering, I clear the blockage w
ith a long drink, rounding up a way to change the subject without offending Pincher, who came all this way for me and my family. “He’ll always be thirteen to me,” I say, wincing as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Epic fail.
“He’ll always be a hero to me,” Boone says with a thin smile, unenergetically returning to his meal.
“He was such a character.” Staring at a wall clock through faraway eyes, Kelly wipes the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“Has anyone heard from Teddy?” Pincher asks, swirling a swallow of beer around in his bottle.
Exchanging silent glances, everyone barely shakes their head no and my heart breaks. Teddy’s drinking became a serious liability and we had to let him go, which is why I worry about Boone. I know from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to drown out the memories is through the bottle and, sometimes, that can be even more dangerous than those things out there lurking in the night.
“Last I heard, he was working at a Walmart in Cody, Wyoming,” Boone admits, dropping his napkin onto his still mostly full plate and leaning back in the chair.
“He was,” Pincher confirms, mimicking Boone with his plate. “I talked to him about five years ago.”
My eyes narrow. “You did?”
“Said he was sober and needed someone to talk to for a minute. I think he was close to hitting the bottle again.” Pincher swallows thickly. “I hope he didn’t.”
“You didn’t call him back to find out?” Boone asks, twisting a silver ring around the middle finger on his right hand.
“I did but his phone stopped working.” A sheepish smile graced Pincher’s lips. “You know how Teddy was always in-between new numbers.” Sipping his beer, he turned something over in his mind. “I even tried him at work but he’d already moved on.”
“To where?”
Pincher shrugs. “No clue; never heard from him again.”
My eyes fall to my plate with my spirits. Why didn’t he call me? Maybe because I changed my number. Hell, I changed my life. It was like I went into the witness protection program. I didn’t want anyone to find me, especially her. Or maybe the real reason Teddy didn’t reach out to me when he needed someone the most was because he thought I didn’t care. I can still remember our last heated exchange, word for word, and it makes me cringe. I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I should’ve called to apologize. I wanted to, but it was easier to put it off until tomorrow instead. Unfortunately, tomorrow never came and I let him down.
After sharing another uncomfortable moment of silence, one filled with clanking forks and knives, I simply can’t take it another second. Dropping my fork to the plate, I rise from the highbacked chair, drawing everyone’s stares. “You guys up for a game of pool?”
Boone’s eyes brighten. “If you’re ready to lose your wallet,” he says, scooting his chair back and flashing Kelly a polite smile. “That was amazing, thank you.”
Pincher nods rapidly. “So good,” he said, getting to his worn-out Asics. Without mentioning it, I notice how all of us are still wearing running shoes, even after all these years. Like we might need to take off at the drop of a hat.
“Gavin?”
Kelly’s low voice stops me at the top of the basement stairs. I stare down the steps with a bottle of beer in one hand and a lump in my throat. My skin crawls, like it’s shifting on my bones. I knew this was coming. I mean, how could I not? I only saw Boone when he wasn’t busy draining his bank account on five-star hotels and three-star women, and I hadn’t seen Pincher in over ten fast-moving years. Now, here we were, together again. Just like old times. Only, Kelly knows I loathe the old times and dare not relive them again. She was there that terrible night we lost Scotty and we rarely talk about it. Even Boone only speaks of it around Halloween, usually over the phone, that slight creak slipping into his voice like he’s that frightened sixteen-year-old all over again.
Turning, I find my wife’s worried eyes floating behind her glasses. They’d been there all night but, up until now, I’d done an impressive job of ignoring them. Unfortunately, there was nowhere left to run. I put off telling her for as long as possible and now she had to know. It was time to take up arms. All of us.
“What is wrong?” she asks, setting her wineglass down and glancing at Boone and Pincher. “And don’t you lie to me.”
Filling my lungs with the scent of meat and Boone’s overpowering cologne, I hesitate before answering. My tongue drags its feet, urging me to reconsider, knowing this will change her. Holding my wife’s heavy eyes with everything I’ve got, my response comes out in a half whisper, half croak. “Betty’s back.”
****
Without speaking, I unroll a black bug-out bag across the basement pool table and stare helplessly at the weapons neatly tucked inside. I’d been preparing for this day since I was thirteen. What I hadn’t prepared for was the hurt look welling in Kelly’s green eyes as she inspected the holy water mace and assorted salt guns. She thought this was over, but it wasn’t. Not yet. The pain blossoms when she notices the smudge stick arrows, folded dreamcatcher nets, and capped syringes. They were all brand new and, other than some silver crosses, holy water squirt guns, and a worn-out bible I’d had since the third grade (with a special inscription from my late mother), Kelly didn’t know about most of this stuff and we didn’t keep secrets. Especially ones like this, but I wanted her to think it was over. Forever. I didn’t want her constantly looking over her shoulder and waking up in a cold sweat. Besides, I can handle the paranoia for the both of us. Mentally, I can run. I’ve been running my entire life and it doesn’t cripple me anymore like it used to when I’d hear a child start crying in the grocery store or see a penny lying outside my car door in some rain soaked lot.
Kelly looks up, the betrayal in her eyes magnified by her glasses. “How long?” Her voice cracks and it breaks my heart in two.
“Since that night.”
Her brow wrinkles. “I thought you quit!”
“I quit taking jobs, but I’ll never stop being prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest and growing quiet. “How did you know Betty would come back?”
“I just did,” I simply reply, staring at the night vision image of Richie sleeping on the video baby monitor. My eyes slide to the faded Polaroids fanned out across the green felt like seven card stud and it hurts to even imagine how wrong this could go. Richie was so peaceful and innocent and there was another secret I’d been keeping as well. One I would take to my grave. I can still feel those thin, prickly legs tickling my ear. Can still hear that thing’s cold whisper slither down my ear canal and pierce the drum at its end. But I honestly thought this day would never come. That Betty would move on to someone else, or somebody would kill her for good. Oh God! If only Kelly knew, I had to agree or she wouldn’t be standing here right now. None of us would. If I hadn’t, we’d be buried in a small-town cemetery hardly anyone ever visits.
Left to rot with the geese and brightly colored joggers.
Like Scotty has been for the last twenty-three years.
“Anti-venom?” Pincher holds up one of the syringes to the Hamm’s Beer table light. “Now, that’s smart thinking, Gav.”
I almost smile because he’s right. Whatever this abomination is, it worked hand in hand with the deadliest creatures on the planet. The small ones that can sneak into one of your shoes in the middle of the night and patiently wait.
Pincher put the syringe back in its strap. “What is with those hands anyway?”
My eyes fall to the bible my mom gave me when I was just a child. I wish she were here now and it tears me apart that she never got to meet her grandchildren. I’d imagined a lot of terrible things coming our way over the years but breast cancer wasn’t one of them. Opening the cover, I read the inscription she wrote to me way back before any of this madness began. The one that still gives me goose bumps to this day.
James 2:19 “You believe that God is one; y
ou do well. Even the demons believe-and shudder!”
Even in death, my mom still knows what to do.
After losing Scotty, and then thirteen years later my mother, I developed an odd fascination with spirituality that bordered upon fanatical. During our casework over the years, I’d seen multiple supernatural presences with my own two eyes and it didn’t take a genius to realize the bible may shed some light on how to beat them back into the grave. “The bible says Hell is much worse than anything the human mind can imagine.” My voice sounds strange inside my head, like I’m speaking through a paper towel tube. “And those hands prove it.”
“I just read about this guy, who died for like fifteen minutes after a bad car accident,” Boone says, letting his eyes stray from focus. “And his Hell was hanging from chains over a bubbling pit of magma, and every so often these hounds of hellfire would come in and eat the flesh off his bones.” He pauses to meet our eyes. “Then it would grow back and the dogs would come and eat it off all over again. All by himself. Day after day. Year after year.”
A frown pulls on my face. “I thought you said it was fifteen minutes.”
“It was, but in his coma-death-state it lasted two hundred years.”
“Geez,” Pincher breaths, running a hand through the thinning hair he should just go ahead and shave. “I gotta start going to church more often,” he says, plucking an eyebrow out and tickling it against his lips. “The heck is this?” Holding up a crucifix, he examines the sharp blades sitting at each end of the horizontal crossbar.
“It’s a silver crucifix…that’s also a double-headed axe.” I give him a loose shrug. “I call it a crucifaxe.”
Slack jawed, Kelly leans against the pool table, looking faint. The understanding creeping into her watery eyes makes me ill. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved the life we had for the last five years. Not this one. Her eyes flick to the baby monitor and I know what she’s thinking and I am powerless to stop it.
Scary House Page 19
