MONDAY, 11:27 P.M.
“It is haunted.”
Night again. The same swath of lamplight stole through the curtains. The same parental breathing. That tick tick tick lip sound.
“What do you mean?” David squirmed under the covers.
“That toy you found? The lightsaber? It belonged to a little boy. His father killed the whole family.”
David’s eyes got huge, then flickered as he thought about that.
“It’s like The Shining,” Xander continued. “The hotel drove the dad crazy.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw the movie.”
“No. How do you know about the family, the dad who killed them?”
“The real estate lady told us. They never found any of them.”
“And it’s haunted ?”
“Has to be. Look, weird things were happening there and—”
“What weird things?”
Xander hadn’t told David everything. “Just some stuff.
But I told you I got a bad feeling about it, then we find out about this murder.” He emphasized it: “A triple murder and suicide. A guy slaughtered his own family. How awful is that?”
“Slaughtered? What’d he do?”
“I’m sure it was something bloody and grotesque. You don’t go out of your mind and keep it neat.”
Xander could almost see the vivid images bouncing around David’s head.
“What do we do?” David asked.
Good question.
“Do you still want to move into that house?”
“Not if it’s haunted!”
“Shhhh.” Against reason, Xander still felt the thrill he had experienced at the house. That sense of adventure, that he was privy to some kind of secret knowledge. He imagined finding another house, one without a history or ghosts. Yeah, he’d sleep better at night, but he’d be bored out of his mind during the day. Especially in Pinedale.
“Look,” Xander said. “Let’s just keep our eyes open, be really watchful. If it gets dangerous, we’ll go nuts—you know, scream and throw a fit or something—to get everybody out.”
“I can do that.” David smiled, but his eyes said he was still worried. 9
The next day, they looked at more properties, but their hearts weren’t in the search, and they saw nothing they liked.
The following day, Wednesday, Mr. King pulled to the curb in front of Tall Pines Park. The boys, Toria, and Mom had staked a claim at one of the picnic tables. They’d walked from the motel to the park, stopping at a burger joint on the way. Xander and David had already devoured their fries, but Mom had made them wait for their cheeseburgers until Dad showed up.
Their father did a sort of half-skip across the grass. His smile showed where Toria and David got their dimples; Mom and Xander had radiant smiles without them—at least that’s what Mom said.
Dad stopped at the head of the table. “Well,” he said, “it’s ours.”
“The house?” David squealed. “I mean the house?”
“We haven’t closed, of course, but the trust that owns it has agreed to a price and said we can move in right away, if we want.”
Mom nodded. Xander realized she had known all along, but she’d kept it a surprise.
Dad leaned down to give her a big kiss. Xander and David exchanged a look, one with equal parts happiness and fear.
Xander thought if you took a picture of them during a really
scary part of a really good movie, they would look like they did now. He hoped he was right about the house being more frightening than dangerous, and he wondered, if he was wrong, if they would realize it before someone got hurt.
“So what do you say?” Dad clapped his hands. “Want to go to our new home?”
“Now?” Toria said.
“Sure.” He saw Xander and David eyeing their burgers.
“Bring ’em; we’ll have a picnic there.”
9
Xander hadn’t thought about it until now, but it was odd pulling up to their home when the only things visible were trees. There was no driveway, no garage. Who would build a home like that? At least in this age of mass transit. It made him wonder how old the house was, who had designed it, who had built it, who had lived in it.
Dad stopped where the road did. He must have been thinking similar thoughts, for he said, “There’s not even a curb to pull over to. I wonder if building a carport or a drive up to the house would be too expensive.”
“I don’t mind parking here,” Mom said.
“Wait till it rains,” David said, and laughed.
Mom laid her hand on Dad’s arm. “Besides, I have a feeling this house is going to take everything we have.”
That made Xander shudder. He opened the door, appreciative of the sun.
David carried the food. Mom had a blanket. As they approached the house, Xander thought about how he and David would begin the inspection as soon as they were settled in. He knew the best way to unearth the house’s secrets was to have an open mind. In the movies, too many people missed important clues because they were looking for something else, some preconceived notion of what they would find. Even with this in mind, he couldn’t help but think they might locate the bodies of the family who had disappeared. Most screenwriters these days would have them buried in the basement. But Xander liked the old Edgar Allen Poe stories like “The Black Cat” in which people were bricked-up in walls. Not always after being murdered.
Dad, Mom, and Toria tromped up the front steps. Dad swung the door open with a “Ta-da.”
Mom said, “We’d better get a locksmith out here, first thing.”
“Already taken care of,” Dad said. “I called him from the car on the way to the park.”
They streamed in. Xander stood at the bottom of the steps, his foot on the first one. David tested the banister’s strength, then leaned against it. “Xander,” he whispered. “’Member what we were talking about? About the place being haunted?”
Xander stepped closer. “Shhh.”
“I can feel it.” He said, “Can we share a room? Just for a while?”
Xander smiled. He was glad David had suggested it first.
Now he had to be careful about appearing overeager. “Let’s see how it goes.”
“Okay, but . . .” David’s voice trailed off, and he bowed his head.
“But?”
“I don’t think I can stay here if I have to sleep alone.”
“There’s always Toria,” Xander suggested.
David made a face. “That would be worse.”
“Than what? Getting eaten by vampires?” Xander started up the steps.
“Don’t say that!” David moved in close to him.
“I’m just kidding, David. Don’t worry about it.” They stopped at the open door. Dust moats drifted in the gloom. They were catching the sunlight and were bright as stars in a black galaxy. The others were out of sight; their voices drifted out to Xander. They were obviously talking to one another, but now it didn’t surprise Xander that they seemed to come from different places in the house and from different distances away. Standing next to him, David found his hand and gripped it. He looked at his little brother, who offered no other sign of fear.
“Besides,” David said, “vampires don’t eat you. They drink your blood.”
Xander thought about responding with something wise like, “Those are normal vampires; this house has a different breed.” But he figured he had scared David enough—had scared himself enough. So instead, he said, “Fine, Dr. Van Helsing. You’re the expert.” And with that, they stepped into the house together.