The Haunting (26 page)

I followed him, mimicking his every move. I looked back to see the others behind me, trailing in single-file. Ducking and weaving, we made our way to the front door.

There were enough shrubs to conceal our presence from the lanterns.

Aidan nudged my arm with his head.

Glancing at him, I saw his pale blue eyes, which were unnerving to see on a wolf, focused on me. He nudged me with his cold wet nose, causing me to recoil from his touch.

He wanted me to go up to the door.

I suppose Aidan didn’t have thumbs anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm the thundering heartbeat in my head. I thought of the monster chasing us through the stone hallways earlier. He’d been fast, big, and could be hiding just behind that door.

I set Aidan’s tattered clothes on the ground before tip-toeing up the front steps.

Creeping to the front door, I felt small compared to its massive size. It didn’t look this tall from the trees.

Reaching for the handle, I pushed it down. The door swung inward easily.

Freezing, I waited for the high-pitched squeal that was associated with most evil houses, but it was extremely quiet.

Inside, the house was dimly lit with candles and lanterns.

The entrance had a table with several arched doorways and a set of wooden stairs leading up. I turned my head to look at my friends. Their eyes shimmered against the lamplight and made them appear paler.

Waving them forward, I took the initiative and stepped inside.

“Who are you?” The voice whispered from the side.

I started to turn when I felt the cold tip of something sharp against the side of my throat.

Stiffening, I held my hands away from my sides. “My name’s Nora,” I whispered. “We’re not here to hurt you—”

As ill timed as ever, Joel burst through the door.

I heard the doorframe crack with a pop and Claire protesting. Then a blurred closed fist collided with the side of my attacker’s head.

“Jesus, Joel,” Phoebe shouted, skidding into the house. Despite her scold, there was a hint of approval in her voice.

Still frozen, I was aware of the warm wetness against the side of my throat. Remaining stiff, I eased my hand to my neck and wiped away a sliver of blood. The jerk could have sliced me open.

I almost kicked the knife away from the limp hand on the floor when I realized my socks wouldn’t give me much protection.

Reaching down, my eyes trained on the man’s face, I plucked it from the floor. His green eyes watched mine as I stepped back.

I felt a lump in my throat as I pondered how dangerous he might be. He was in his twenties, not much older than us. He had wild blonde hair, his face taut and pale. He wore pristine clothing from the late 18th century. His rumpled, high-collared white shirt had been ripped at the shoulder. He lay panting but unmoving.

The interior of the house was grander than the outside. There were tall white ceilings and walls plastered with wallpapers that had the most colorful pink and red flowers. The floors were hardwood though not coated with protector like any 21st century home. Wooden furniture, carved and designed to match, was placed around the room along with glossy vases filled with dried and fresh flowers.

It didn’t appear as if a monster had just stormed through the foyer.

Before us were a set of wide stairs leading up. Then to our right was an arched doorway where another room stuffed with couches and chairs sat on vibrant-colored rugs.

From the floor, our victim asked in a refined English accent, “What is it you want?”

“Victor Frankenstein?” Claire asked.

He blinked at her, let his eyes roam down and up Claire once, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He then inspected each of us briefly before clearing his throat. “Who’s asking? You’re not constables.”

Our mud-drenched, wild-haired group could be a lot of things, but law enforcement sure wasn’t one of them.

“Sure we are.” Joel smiled charismatically. “We’re the special kind. We want to know where the monster is.”

Victor’s eyes widened immediately. For the first time, he moved. He glanced at me first before crab-walking backwards away from us until he hit a wall. Sliding up it slowly, he adjusted his collar. “Monster, you say?”

“It’s supposed to be here, isn’t it?” I asked Read.

Read appeared surprised. “I don’t know.”

“You did the report,” Joel said. “You should know.”

“How’d you…?” Read’s question trailed off when Phoebe interrupted.

“It was his wedding night when things blew up. If this is anytime before that, it’s either before he made the monster or after.”

“What are you going on about?” Victor cried.

“Victor,” I said firmly, “we need to know where the monster is. He has our friend. If you help us, we might have a chance of killing it.”

Victor stared at me, lip quivering as if to speak yet he said nothing.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Alright, Vick, chop chop.” She moved toward him with Joel’s intimidating presence shadowing her.

“You’re all mad,” Victor said in a hushed voice, his eyes glassy as he shrank away from Phoebe’s outstretched hand.

“Said the mad-scientist,” Read said flatly.

Just then Aidan padded into the room, nails clicking on the hardwood.

Victor slapped a hand up against the wall for support, freezing in place.

Joel saw the terror on his expression and flashed a devious smile. “Alright, now tell us where the monster is or we sic the dog on you.”

Aidan growled low and threatening. I wasn’t sure if it was for effect or because Joel called him a dog. Either way, we had our threat.

“It’s not here,” Victor said, eyes focused on the wolf in his entrance.

I glanced at Read, adjusting my grip on the dagger. “Should we camp out?”

He shrugged. “What other choice do we have?”

Claire closed the front door behind us. Slivers of wood sprinkled the floor from Joel’s grand entrance, but it latched into place.

Phoebe asked, “Where’s the rest of the family then?” Turning to Joel, she said, “We should gather everyone in one area of the house.”

He nodded.

The two seemed quite compatible when sharing the leadership responsibilities. It beat butting heads when there was no time.

Joel snatched Victor’s arm. “Safety in numbers, Victor Remember that.”

Victor tried to jerk away when Joel grabbed him. “It’ll kill you all if you find it. By putting everyone in one room, we’ll just be a bigger target. Get out of here while you still can.”

I realized in that instant that he hadn’t been playing coy to save himself but to save us.

Frowning, I followed Joel and Victor up the stairs. “He has our friend, Victor,” I explained, trying to appeal to his sympathies. “She won’t last that much longer if we don’t do something.”

Victor twisted his neck to look over his shoulder at me, stumbling on the stairs as Joel led him up. “She’s likely already dead,” he said bitterly.

I met his gaze. He was serious, and his anger flared before he turned away.

“In case this thing is inside the house,” Joel warned, “let’s try and keep the noise and questions to a minimum.”

“Who’s here?” Phoebe whispered to Victor.

He grimaced, creating deep crescent lines in his shallow cheeks. “My wife and I.”

Read cursed. “Where is she?”

Victor didn’t answer at first.

Read began again. “The monster is in your room. Where is the bedroom?”

Victor appeared hesitant at first, weighing out the truth in those words before nodding to the left. “Fourth door to the right.”

Joel released Victor’s arm, throwing it to the side before bursting down the hallway. Phoebe followed close behind, leaving Victor stunned.

He glanced furtively between the rest of us, and we surged forward as a group, Victor included.

The scream burst from the room the moment Joel’s hand touched the doorknob.

The door crashed against the wall when Joel swung it inward, and he disappeared inside.

Phoebe darted in, but I saw her attempting to skid to a stop just before vanishing.

Victor pushed past the rest of us, nearly tripping in his haste as he veered into his bedroom.

I stopped in the doorframe when I saw her.

She was pinned to the bed, her hands clutching the large meaty ones at her throat.

She kicked and twisted wildly. Her butt at the edge of the bed, she lashed out, kicking up the white, thin nightdress to nail a kick at the monster’s side.

“Robin!” I cried.

“Elizabeth!” I heard Victor shout at the same time.

I glanced at Victor and saw him staring at Robin as he bolted forward. The master bedroom was far too large for a couple of people. It was half the size of a gymnasium. A four-poster bed sat near the wall, draped in whites and golds. The moon shone through the opened French doors leading out to a balcony.

I glanced back to see Aidan hadn’t entered yet.

Overturned chairs and small bits of furniture scattered the room. Joel had to jump around them to try and stop Victor, but he was too late.

Victor Frankenstein leapt onto the back of his creation.

The stitched monster howled a protest but pushed his hands deeper into Robin’s throat.

She couldn’t gasp a surprise. The only sound was her flailing feet as she kicked at the monster and the smack of her hands as she slapped at the monster’s hands in vain.

Phoebe and I bolted forward. It was better not to think too hard about violence. It made me clumsy.

Raising my dagger, I poised to strike, but Phoebe got to him first.

She kicked the back of the monster’s leg, directly behind the knee.

Buckling, the monster lost his balance, and his grip loosened on Robin’s neck.

At first, nothing happened. I waited for her to breathe only to see her continue to struggle for breath.

Phoebe jumped over a chair to get to us, and Victor’s flailing legs kicked her in the chest. She was thrown back by the whirlwind struggle and hit the opposite wall.

Robin sat up, large red hand prints on her slender throat.

I remembered CPR where we’d have to use a straw or hollowed pen to create a hole in her throat so she could breathe. I wasn’t sure I could do that. In fact, it had been so long ago that I doubted I’d remember exactly how.

I grabbed one of Robin’s flailing hands and yanked her off the bed, away from the fight.

In the same instant, I heard her take a deep, rattling breath. Her eyes bulged as she took another loud intake of air.

Relief flooded through me as I dragged her away from the chaos. I turned to try and give the dagger to someone else when I realized we were ready to bolt for the door.

Phoebe recovered, ducking around the monster while Aidan crouched in the way.

“Come on,” Joel shouted. “Let’s go!”

Claire started for the door first.

“Don’t separate!” Joel roared, but his words barely made it through the madness.

Claire didn’t reappear, perhaps not hearing him.

“What about Victor?” Robin rasped, her eyes wide and horrified.

Phoebe shouted, “We’re leaving him. He’s not one of us!”

He was part of the grave, but a small twinge of remorse passed through me nonetheless.

Victor was flung against the wall, shouting wordless battle cries.

Freed, the monster latched dark eyes on Robin.

One by one, my friends ran out of the room.

I started to pull Robin when I felt her resist.

“Victor!” she called, her voice less raspy, but only slightly. “Come with us. We have to go!”

Was that an English accent she was sporting?

Phoebe grabbed Robin’s other arm, and together we jerked her stubborn legs from under her and forced her to run.

She called Victor’s name over her shoulder, running on bare feet out the door.

Aidan kept the monster at bay, snarling and snapping his jaws. Darting in, he’d bite at the monster then hop back out of arm’s length, ears back and saliva stringing patterns on the floor.

“Hurry, Aidan!” I shouted and half dragged, half carried Robin out the door.

Victor caught up to us. “Elizabeth!” he gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

Robin shook her head. “What is that thing?”

“Why are you talking in an accent?” Phoebe demanded.

I heard glass shattering behind us at the same time that I found the stairs.

Half turning, I nearly tripped down the steps. Letting go of Robin, I snagged the railing before I could launch myself over the edge.

The wolf wasn’t behind us, I realized.

“Aidan?” I called.

Panic soared through my chest, and I started back toward the master bedroom, arms stiff at my sides as I readjusted my grip on the knife again.

Phoebe moved to grab me.

With a jerk of my arm, I managed to duck out of her reach.

“Fuller! Don’t separate!”

Skidding to a stop in the doorway, I saw the glass scattered across the floor, glimmering in the moonlight like beads of water.

On the white balcony, I saw a dark wet streak span from the ground and up over the edge of the stone railing.

“Crap,” I breathed.

Neither the werewolf nor the monster was in the room anymore.