Deader Homes and Gardens

by Angie Fox

  “Sage,” I said automatically, stumbling when my toe caught a rip in the carpet.

  He caught me. “It looks nice,” he said, letting go. “My windows are covered.”

  “Men,” I murmured, ascending the final steps and reaching the second-floor landing.

  We paused, listening.

  “I’m going to return the doll,” I said. I’d place it exactly where I’d first encountered it, in the little girl’s room.

  I broke right, with Ellis directly behind me. Her door stood ajar, and when I pushed it all the way open, Ellis choked.

  The back wall stood crowded with doll shelves, as before. Only this time, each doll had its head turned to look at us.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “Do it and let’s get out of here.”

  My thoughts exactly. I pasted on a smile and walked slowly into the room. “Hi, Charlotte. I thought you might like this back.”

  I placed the battered, smiling doll on the bed and fanned out her hair on the pillow, like she was dead or something.

  That might have been a mistake.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to be breezy, refusing to glance at the wall of dolls staring at me. “I’m always here if you’d like to talk.”

  Why did I say that? I shouldn’t have said that.

  I didn’t want her at my house.

  There was no sign of the ghost here. The room lay still as I backed away slowly.

  Ellis touched my arm. “Let’s go.”

  Gladly. I let out a sigh when we’d cleared the room, and Ellis gently closed the door behind us.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  A large metal creak sounded from across the landing, like a faucet turning.

  We froze at the sound of water spilling out hard.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” I exhaled.

  “It’s coming from over there,” Ellis said under his breath, pointing toward the bedroom across the hall.

  “I suppose we’d better check.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what waited inside.

  Ellis nodded. The floorboards under the worn red carpeting creaked as we approached a white-painted door with a crystal handle. It did help, having him with me.

  I was in the greatest danger here, even outside the house. As long as I was tuned into Frankie’s power, spirits on the ghostly plane could interact with me, hurt me. At the same time, they were invisible, or sometimes merely shadows or scraps of movement, to everyone else.

  “You ready?” Ellis asked, bracing himself. He twisted the handle and pushed in the door.

  I half expected to see the little girl on the other side.

  We entered a well-appointed woman’s bedroom. Pale blue wallpaper fell in sheets from the walls. A cracked mirror with gilt trim struggled to remain upright against the onslaught.

  A canopy bed in yellowed white silk stood with its back to the wall. Spiderwebs hung in an eerie cascade from the canopy to the stained coverings, forming a single tattered veil that fluttered with every exhale.

  “Looks normal,” I said. For a creepy, abandoned house.

  It had to be better than what lay beyond this bedroom.

  “You’ve been spending too much time at my place,” Ellis quipped, studying every detail.

  A carved marble fireplace lay cold in front of a pair of Queen Anne chairs. A haunting wind whistled down the flue, stirring the ash from a long-dead fire. Spiderwebs formed an intricate lace over the perfume bottles on a crowded dressing table. I wondered if the dried, flaking remains inside were indeed perfume or if they hid something more sinister.

  If Jack had been poisoned, someone in the house had slipped it into his whiskey. He might not have been the only target.

  A low thump sounded from the room just beyond, and with an eerie screech of pipes, the water stopped.

  “At least we know where to go,” Ellis said, low under his breath.

  He stiffened next to me as the door creaked open.

  From the next room, I heard the gentle sound of water lapping.

  I forced myself to speak. “This way,” I murmured, stepping forward to investigate.

  Ellis merely nodded.

  To the right, black mourning dresses still hung in the closet, her dresses. I detected the faint hint of rose perfume.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” I said to the mistress of the house, hoping she had indeed invited me here. Someone had, with the running water and the slamming of the door, not to mention my inability to escape out the front. “You have a lovely room.”

  I pushed the bathroom door open, steadying myself against the eerie creak.

  Cracked tiles shifted under our feet as we ventured inside.

  Perhaps Annabelle Treadwell had gotten over her crying jag and wanted to talk. Maybe she’d seen what had happened to the professor. Or what had nearly happened to me.

  A vintage sink on skinny iron legs stood directly ahead, bleeding rust onto the floor. The mirror above it reflected the focused, protective visage of Ellis, the man I’d been able to count on, no matter what.

  “No water in the sink,” he said, as if he’d expected that.

  I had as well. The water had run too hard, too long. It would have overflowed a sink.

  That still didn’t prepare me for the moment when I turned the corner and saw the claw-foot tub filled to the brim.

  “There it is.” I stopped short. “You see the water?”

  “Yeah,” Ellis breathed out behind me.

  It was filled with real water. A drop clung to the metal faucet and we watched it lose its grip and plunge into the tub.

  What else did the ghost want us to see?

  I drew closer and stood over the tub. Annabelle Treadwell lay dead at the bottom.

  “Oh my God.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “Oh, Ellis.”

  “What?” he pressed, staring down into the same water, searching.

  “You can’t see her.” Of course he couldn’t. This was for me, although I had no idea what to do about the poor, dead woman in her bath. She wore a black mourning dress, the ribbons at the collar swirling toward the surface. Her dark hair fanned around her head like a halo.

  She almost looked as if she were sleeping.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, kept my voice steady. “Annabelle?” I asked gently. “This is Verity. I’m here.” She gave no reaction. “Tell me. What can I do to help you?”

  Her eyes snapped open and I’d never seen such a look of terror.

  “Annabelle!” I reached out to help her out of the water and then caught myself. There was nothing I could do to save her. Her suffering should have ended more than a century ago. I couldn’t lift her. Even a touch would be painful for both of us.

  But I couldn’t just stand and watch her suffer.

  Robert had tried to rescue her and he died right after. Still, I wasn’t Robert and I couldn’t just let this happen. It wouldn’t feel good, but if it helped, if I had a chance to get her out of there…

  I’d just touch the water…

  Ellis grabbed my wrist. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

  “She’s trapped!” I exclaimed, shaking him off. Annabelle gurgled. She reached for me. Something was holding her down. She screamed in soundless horror.

  My fingers broke the ice-cold surface.

  A terrible chill gripped me from behind, shoving me face-first into the water.

  Chapter 16

  A hard grip held my head from behind and shoved me down, through the icy water, toward the terrified Annabelle. The invasive, sick wetness of my attacker’s touch shocked me to the core as the ghost pushed me down harder.

  Annabelle disappeared into nothingness.

  My nose slammed against the porcelain bottom of the tub, and pain radiated through my face. Desperate to breathe, I scrambled to get a grip on the edges of the tub, to force myself out.

  Ellis yelled, his words garbled by the water.

  I kicked and hit something solid. It gave me enough leverage to turn onto my back,
but a strong blow had me down again. It pressed hard against my chest and arms, an invisible weight holding me underwater.

  I gripped the sides and pushed with all my might. My lungs burned and I nearly panicked when I saw the ghost’s powerful male forearms take shape over me, with no body attached.

  One hand shoved my chest, the other held my shoulder, refusing to let go. Ellis clutched me at the shoulders as well, shouting, his fingers digging into my flesh as he strained to lift me up.

  But the ghost was stronger.

  Ellis couldn’t strike my attacker. He couldn’t see him. Couldn’t feel him. He could only fight for me by trying to pull my body away from the force that held it down. Both of us were losing.

  I opened my mouth and water poured in. Frankie! I screamed in my mind.

  I needed Frankie to cut the power, to get me out of this place where a ghost could talk to me, touch me, kill me.

  But I’d left Frankie at home.

  Ellis gave a mighty yank and my upper body barely breached the surface. “I got you! I got you!” He lunged for me, water sloshing, using his body to try to block me from the ghost. I spit water and took in a desperate, greedy breath.

  The ghost moved straight through him and closed a hand around my neck.

  “What do you want?” I screamed at my attacker, trying to force him off.

  “It’s mine.” The ghost’s voice echoed off the tile, a man’s voice. “Give. Up.” He squeezed. I gasped. Bit by bit, he forced me under.

  My muscles burned, my lungs seized as I fought with everything I had, even as the water lapped over my cheeks, my nose, my face.

  I didn’t do anything!

  The ghost took on solid form as he fought us, revealing a soaked white dress shirt and broad shoulders. He had a sharp jaw, prominent chin, and killer’s eyes. It was Robert. And I knew if I went under again, I was dead.

  I gripped the ghost’s forearm, the dank, invasive touch radiating through me. I wished I could reach his eyes, and grimaced as my nails dug in hard. At the same time, Ellis gave a mighty yank. My shoulders popped out of the water, and I scrambled for leverage.

  Robert shoved a booted foot onto my chest and drove me under. Ellis lost his grip. Through the lapping water, I saw Ellis scrambling in terror and the ghost’s triumphant smile.

  No!

  Only now the governess stood behind them both. She held aloft a silver candlestick.

  Ellis, watch out!

  With a vicious sneer, she cracked Robert on the back of the head.

  His grip slackened.

  I pushed past him, up, up, out of the water. Ellis grabbed me and held on tight. Gulping air, I let him drag me out of the tub, right through both ghosts, eliciting a cry from the governess as we connected in a tangling of energies.

  She dropped the candlestick and retreated, her back to the wall, trying to wipe away my touch.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, steadying me as he stood on my attacker’s head. Robert was huge, at least six foot five and pure muscle. I heaved, the water pouring off me.

  “Quickly,” the governess said, recovering. “He will be angry when he wakes.”

  I was angry now. “He was her brother!” I managed, catching my breath, fighting off the shakes. “Did he kill her?” He must have. He just tried to kill me by drowning, the same way Annabelle died. “What does he want?”

  “We don’t know,” she said tightly. “He holds this house captive.” The right half of her mouth turned down in a scowl while the scarred left side remained eerily rigid. “You have to leave!”

  I might not have listened to her the first time, but I sure did now. Ellis and I fled the bathroom, and the second floor altogether.

  Our soaking shoes slipped over the moldering carpet, but that didn’t slow us down a bit. We attacked the stairwell with me in the lead. My head felt light and I stumbled twice, grabbing the creaking, dusty bannister for dear life, sending up a cloud of dirt as we nearly fell over ourselves getting to the front door.

  I twisted the handle, but it didn’t budge. “No!” I struggled against it. “You win! We’re leaving! What else do you want?”

  To kill us.

  “Give it to me.” Ellis battled the door while I tried the windows again. They were not only painted shut, but I didn’t even see any latches.

  I grabbed an iron bust from its pedestal and hurled it at the window glass. It bounced off and smacked against the floor. “Let us out!”

  A dark mist began to form over Robert’s death spot.

  “Ellis!” He couldn’t see it. I had to warn him.

  The governess stood halfway down the stairs, a picture of calm. Probably because she was already dead.

  The mist darkened and formed jagged edges. I’d seen this shadow before.

  She held the candlestick aloft like a beacon. “He’s coming.”

  Oh my gosh. It had been Robert all along. “Now, Ellis. We have to go now!”

  He shoved away from the door. “Let’s try the back.”

  “That door is barred,” I huffed, chasing him through the hallway off the music room, past the dining room table set for dinner.

  If we got out of here now, I was never coming back. Never, ever, ever.

  “This is our only shot,” Ellis said, stumbling through a dark butler’s pantry crowded with wood crates. We burst out into a kitchen that looked like it belonged in the 1920s, with a cast-iron stove, an icebox, and a long wooden prep table at the center. He rushed past a large metal coal bin to a back door that had an honest-to-goodness iron bar padlocked over it.

  “Shoot it!” I told him.

  “That only works in the movies.” He cursed under his breath and rattled the lock. “I need to bash it with something,” he said, backing away, searching for a tool.

  “Here’s a teapot,” I said, grabbing a rusted kettle and watching the handle come off in my hand.

  I tossed the pot. There had to be another way out. Only we’d need a ladder to reach the high, broad windows—if we could even break them open.

  The sky had gone gray. The sun was starting to set.

  A low, throaty chuckle echoed from the front of the house.

  “He’s coming,” I warned. Dang it. I sounded like the governess.

  “I can’t get it open,” Ellis snapped.

  He wanted to protect me. It was in his DNA. But I was easy pickings for the spirits and there was nothing Ellis could do about it.

  Then I saw something that made my head spin and my throat go dry. There, at the foot of the narrow servants’ staircase, hovered a thick white candle on a single candlestick.

  Why did I ever think I could do this for a living?

  “Ellis…” I started.

  The candlestick was of this world, but not the soul who held it.

  He turned and saw it. “Oh, my God.”

  The heavy antique candlestick floated in midair. And from one breath to the next, a flame flickered to life on the wick.

  “Get behind me,” Ellis said, abandoning the door.

  “It could be the governess. She used a candlestick like that to bash Robert’s head.”

  “And the time before that, she attacked you on the stairs.” He drew close, placing himself between the hovering candle and me.

  I appreciated the thought, but whatever wanted me was going to go straight through Ellis.

  We watched as the candlestick began to float up the servants’ stairs.

  We had to move. Now.

  Ellis touched my arm, as if he needed to make sure we were both sane, alive, and solid. “It’s getting cold,” he said.

  He was right. Goose bumps skittered up my arms and I glanced to the butler’s pantry. The same dark mist I’d seen at the front door snaked across the floor, blocking our only other exit. “Let’s take the stairs,” I said, rushing for them.

  “Are you crazy?” Ellis whispered, joining me, keeping one eye on the hallway to the front of the house. Robert would be here any second. “Do you trust her?”
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  The candle paused halfway up the narrow staircase, as if it waited for us.

  No. She hadn’t exactly been friendly the first time we’d met. But she hadn’t tried to kill us either.

  “I choose to trust her,” I said out loud, grabbing Ellis’s hand.

  The stairs were steep and dark, with no rail. I braced a hand against the wall for balance and kept going—up, up—deeper into the house.

  “This could be a trick,” he said in my ear.

  “It could,” I answered, out of breath, out of options.

  It was better than facing Robert.

  As we fled, he was regaining his strength downstairs. We had to escape him…somehow.

  Breathlessly, we followed our mysterious guide up one flight of stairs then another, until the door at the very top creaked open and the ghost of the governess shimmered into view.

  Her harsh black dress blended into the darkness behind her, as did her slicked black hair. It gave her the appearance of a scarred, disembodied head floating above the candle. Her good eye glittered, the bad one obscured by a corded mass of scar tissue. “There is one safe place,” she hissed.

  We’d take it. “Show us.”

  She turned quickly and led us out into the third-floor hallway. Darkness was falling fast. The candle shone through the ghost as she led us past the abandoned playroom.

  “I don’t like this,” Ellis muttered.

  “I hear you.” But we didn’t have a choice. And I had a feeling I knew where she was taking us—to the one place in the house that she controlled.

  She stopped outside her private room, the one with the plain brass bed and the sad little hope chest, and she showed no emotion at all as the door creaked open.

  “Wait. Why are you helping us?” I asked.

  Her eyes hardened and her nose flared. “Take shelter or you will die like the rest.”

  “Come on,” I said, urging Ellis into the pitch-black room on the third floor of a locked haunted house.

  He joined me. He trusted me, even as his grip on my hand tightened. “This doesn’t feel right,” he said, a second before the door slammed closed behind us and a key turned in the lock.