I wanted to scream. I wanted to hide.
I wanted to shut my eyes and wake up in my own bed, far away from this nightmare.
But there I stood, my whole body trembling. Afraid to breathe, afraid to make a sound.
There I stood, gazing at the dark figure in front of the fire. Staring at Simon Fear.
Yes, I recognized him from the bronze plaque on the wall at Nights. And I knew him from a dozen old photographs I’d seen while studying the Fear family.
Of course he’d been dead for nearly a hundred years.
Of course his house had been destroyed, replaced by the bar my friends and I hung out in and the shopping center around it.
Of course . . . of course.
In my terror, I couldn’t try to reason this out. My mind was frozen now, frozen in horror.
I had only one thought: to escape.
To get out of that house before he saw me.
I watched him step toward the fire. He held out his hands to the flames.
With a sharp intake of breath, I spun away from the doorway and started to run. My shoes thudded on the hard wood, echoing loudly down the long halls. But I didn’t care. I had to run. I had to find the way out.
And there they were. The double front doors, one of them still open a crack.
I took off, running full speed now, my sides aching, my chest about to burst. Out the door, onto the porch, into the cold, fresh air. I didn’t slow my pace. Slipping and sliding on the frosty ground, I tore down the hill and kept running.
I was nearly a block away when I turned and glanced back. The house still rose up darkly over the hill. And in one window, I could see the blinking yellow firelight.
“Lewis.”
I said his name out loud as I started to jog toward his house.
Lewis was the only one who would understand, the only one who would believe me.
Normally, I’d look for him at Nights. But there was no Nights!
The world had gone back in time. The world had gone crazy.
The world had turned into a nightmare, and I knew Lewis was the only one I could turn to.
His new house was nearly a mile away. I wanted to go home and get the car. But I was afraid of waking my parents. So I half-jogged, half-ran the whole way.
Through the still night. The houses dark. No cars on the street.
About a block from Lewis’s house, I saw headlights sweep over the street. A patrol car rolled slowly across the intersection. I sank back, pressing up against a hedge, eager not to be seen.
Try explaining my night to a cop!
“You see, Officer, the Fear Mansion suddenly came back, and I went inside, and . . .”
Yeah, sure.
I waited until the patrol car was out of sight. Then I pushed away from the hedge and, walking now, made my way to Lewis’s house.
The front of the house was dark. But I saw orange light seeping from under the blinds in the last window. Lewis’s room.
I hurried up to the window. The new sod had just been put down, and chunks of it were still loose. I grabbed on to the windowsill and tapped my fist against the glass.
I waited. Then tapped again.
Come on, Lewis. Come on! I need you!
After a minute or two, the blinds pulled up. Lewis peered out at me, surprise on his face, his hair matted to his forehead.
He pulled open the window. “Jamie? What’s wrong?”
“Plenty,” I said. “Please—let me in. I . . . I have to talk to you.”
He brushed back his hair, blinking himself awake. Then he slid the window open further. He reached out, grabbed me under the arms, and helped pull me into his room.
I found my balance, but didn’t let go of him. I wrapped my arms around his T-shirt and held on tight, pressing my cheek against his.
“Hey, you’re cold,” I said. “Have you been outside?”
He shook his head. “No. I was asleep.” He straightened his shirt collar. “What’s wrong, Jamie? What are you doing here?”
I just blurted it out. “The Fear Mansion is back.” I held on to his hands. They were both cold too.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Excuse me? I . . . don’t get it.”
“It’s back,” I repeated. “Believe me. Please believe me, Lewis.” My voice broke. I threw my arms around him again and hugged him. We stood there like that for a long time.
Then he led me over to his bed, and we sat side by side, holding hands.
“Start at the beginning,” he said softly.
“It’s not a long story,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I walked to Nights. I thought maybe you’d be there. But . . . but . . . everything was dark, Lewis. I mean . . .”
The words caught in my throat. I swallowed and started again.
“Fear Street Acres—it was gone. Nights, too. It was all dark. And the old hill was back. And the house . . . the Fear Mansion. It was back. And I went inside. I mean, something pulled me in, and—”
“Whoa. Wait.” He put his fingers over my lips to silence me. “Look at you,” he said. “You’re a total mess. You’re out of breath and—” He stared hard at me. “Did you run all the way here?”
“You’re not listening to me!” I screamed. “Don’t you hear what I’m telling you? The Fear Mansion is back! And inside it, I . . . I saw Simon Fear.”
He squeezed my hands. He slid the bracelet back and forth on my wrist. “I’m worried about you,” he murmured, avoiding my eyes. “Maybe we should call your parents or something.”
“No, Lewis, please—,” I pleaded.
“Ssshh.” Again, he placed a finger gently over my mouth. “Calm. Take a deep breath, Jamie. And listen to what you’re telling me. You know the Fear Mansion can’t be back. It’s impossible. No way you could go inside a house that was knocked down.”
He let go of the bracelet. “You and I watched them knock it down—remember?”
I pulled free of him and jumped to my feet. “I’m not crazy!” I screamed.
He jumped up beside me. “You’ll wake my parents! Just keep it down, okay?”
“I’m not crazy,” I repeated, lowering my voice. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“Huh? Prove that the Fear Mansion is back?” He reached for me, but I backed away. “You’ve been totally stressed out, Jamie,” he said. “I’m really worried. I think you need help now. I—”
“Get dressed,” I said.
He squinted at me.
“Get dressed. I’ll take you there,” I said. “You can see with your own eyes. Then maybe you’ll believe me.”
A chill ran down my back. I hadn’t removed my parka. I burrowed inside it and shoved my hands deep into the pockets.
A few minutes later, we silently backed Lewis’s mother’s car out of the garage and down to the street. We climbed in and started the engine. But we didn’t turn on the headlights until we were in the next block.
We’d learned a lot about sneaking out during our two years of going to Nights. We were experts. So far, none of us had been caught. Our parents were all clueless.
Lewis and I drove to Fear Street in silence. He tapped his fingers on the wheel and kept his eyes straight ahead.
I hit the passenger door when he swerved to avoid a trash can that had rolled into the street. “You okay?” he asked, straightening the wheel.
“Yeah. Okay,” I said. He had the heater up full blast, and the hot air felt good against my face.
“Lewis, it’s back,” I said, gazing out into the darkness. “I don’t know how or why. But it’s back. It’s some kind of evil magic. From Angelica Fear. I know it. I’m not crazy.”
He let out a long sigh. “I want to believe you. I really do,” he said. “But . . .” His voice trailed off.
He slowed the car. He pointed out the windshield.
I followed his gaze and saw the lights up ahead. White pinpricks against the night sky.
The lights grew brighter as the car approached. The store windows sharpened into focus.
The windows of Fear Street Acres.
Lewis pulled the car to the curb and stopped. We both stared out at Nights Bar.
“Oh—” A muffled cry escaped my lips. And then I collapsed. Just broke down. And started to cry.
“It’s okay,” Lewis whispered. He put his arms around me and drew me to him. “It’s okay, Jamie. It’ll all be okay.”
He held me and let me cry on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’ll take care of you. I really will.”