House of Dark Shadows Read online

  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.

  CHAPTER

  thirteen

  WEDNESDAY, 3:17 P.M.

  Victoria told everyone she wanted the room that had been decorated for a little boy, even though the one across and a bit down the hall from it had obviously belonged to a little girl. “Too pink,” she called it.

  “Should we let her pick either of them?” David whispered.

  “Why not?” Xander asked.

  “The little boy and the little girl?” David said, as though speaking to an imbecile.

  “So?”

  “They were murdered. What if their ghosts still think those are their rooms?”

  Xander shook his head. “You’re worrying too much. Just watch out for anything weird. Don’t let your imagination get ahead of you.”

  “You sound like Dad.”

  Xander accepted that. “Which room do you want?”

  “Not one of those. What room do you want? It’s going to be our room, isn’t it?”

  Xander stood tall, stretching his spine. Maybe sharing a room for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. As they got used to the house, and as they discovered—as they probably would— that it wasn’t haunted, Xander could move into a room of his own. He patted his brother on the chest. “All right. Yeah.

  Sure. As long as I can put my posters on the wall.”

  “Not Friday the 13th.”

  “No scary ones,” Xander agreed. He gestured with his head. “Let’s look down here.”

  They moved farther away from the central staircase, past the murdered boy’s room.

  No, no, no, he thought, don’t start that. Simply, the boy’s room.

  He stopped at the door to what used to be a little girl’s room.

  He nudged it open. It creaked into a shadow-filled room. Faint light came through two dirty windows and thin curtains—Mom had called them sheers—that may have been white at one time. There was an old dresser and a bed with a canopy. Didn’t matter: Dad had said they would not sleep on any beds or bedding found here anyway. They were probably dirty and had bedbugs.

  David said, “Toria’s right: too pink. Let’s keep looking.”

  The next room was dingy, dusty, and dark. Nothing about it appealed to either boy.

  They moved to the next door which served the corner room on the front side of the house. Xander pushed it open, and they took a step in. This room had a chest of drawers against the far wall and a bed with a simple wooden headboard. Like the other room, two dirty windows let in meager light. The coolest part of the room was that one corner opened up into the tower, a five-sided room-within-a-room. Heavy curtains covered the tower windows, except for the center one, which— Someone was standing in front of it.

  Backlit by the window, the figure was nothing more than a black silhouette to Xander’s eyes. David had spotted the shape as well. His hand found Xander’s again and squeezed painfully. Xander realized both of them had stopped breathing. The only sound was the figure’s labored breath, deep and heavy. The thing shifted. Its head appeared to turn toward them. When it spoke, its voice was baritone and gravelly: “Come in, boys.”

  David screamed first. It was long and high pitched. Xander’s quick “Ahhh!” was almost completely lost in the sound of David’s fear. They turned together and knocked each other into the door frame. They were almost into the hall when they heard a familiar voice call their names. They were through the doorway and moving in separate directions, when they heard, “Boys! Boys! Come back!” and uncontrollable laughter.

  Xander stopped and looked back. David had stopped as well, halfway through the doorway at the end of the hall.

  The boy’s eyes were saucers of shock.

  From the room: “Xander! David!”

  They scowled at each other. Xander took a cautious step toward the door.

  Dad stepped into the hallway between them. He looked at Xander, then at David. He said, “Sorry. Really.” He stifled a laugh.

  David, generally calm, cool, and collected, yelled at the top of his lungs, “That’s not funny!”

  Dad walked toward him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He hugged his youngest son, who resisted, then gave in. He looked back at Xander with a guilty smile.

  Xander shook his head and pointed at David. “What he said.”

&nbs
p; Dad nodded. “You guys have been whispering about this house since we talked to the real estate woman. I couldn’t resist.”

  The muscles in Xander’s face felt tight. He said, “You know what they say about payback.”

  Dad snickered. He said, “My boys, my brave young men.”

  Still pressed against him, David punched his father in the side.

  Dad let out an exaggerated grunt and pushed back from him. “So,” he said, “have you picked out a room?”

  “We’re trying,” David said. “What about beds?”

  “Your old beds will be here in a few days. I just have to tell the moving company we found a place.”

  “And till then?”

  “We’ll stay in the motel.”

  “Not here?” Xander asked.

  Dad shook his head. “We have to do some cleaning first, get the utilities turned on, make sure everything’s safe.”

  As if to punctuate his last word, Mom yelled, “Ed! Ed!” All three of them looked one way, then the other. It was impossible to tell where she was. Dad made a decision and ran toward the main staircase. Xander and David followed. Toria came out of her room, knocking David against the wall. They clambered down the stairs together. Dad stepped into the foyer, looked down the corridor to the kitchen, and called, “G!”

  Her voice came back with an edge of panic: “Ed!”

  He started for the kitchen. Xander stopped him. “Dad, in here.”

  Mom stood in the dining room near one of the windows. Dad pushed past the kids to reach her. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  She pointed. Dust covered the floors. Most of it had been disturbed by their own shuffling around. Near the walls, in corners, under furniture, it had remained thick and as unbroken as an arctic landscape. Here, in such a spot, were two footprints. They were from bare feet twice the size of Dad’s. The toes were pointed toward the window, as though someone had stood there, watching.

  CHAPTER

  fourteen

  WEDNESDAY, 5:30 P.M.

  They were sitting at a big, round table in the café. Each of them leaned in toward the center.

  “The door was unlocked,” Dad whispered. “That’s how we got in. Who knows how long the house had been open to anyone who tried the front door?”

  “Or how long ago those footprints were made,” Mom added.

  “Mom,” Xander said, “they were fresh. There was no dust in them, just bare wood.”

  “They were so big,” David said.

  “It was Bigfoot,” Toria said, with a hint of danger.

  “Toria,” Xander said.

  “Well, it was somebody with really big feet,” Mom said, “but I don’t think it was Bigfoot, honey. Not the Bigfoot.”

  “But he lives here,” Toria said. “I read about it.”

  “Bigfoot’s not real,” David said.

  “Is too.”

  “Okay, okay. Whether it was a guy with big feet or it was Bigfoot, doesn’t really matter, I don’t want him in my house.

  So, listen . . .”

  The waitress stepped up behind Toria. She smiled inquisitively, taking in their conspiratorial postures. “Ya ready?”

  Dad smiled apologetically. “Not yet. But how about waters all around?”

  “Gotcha,” she said and wandered away.

  All faces turned back to Dad.

  He said, “Tomorrow we all go over there and start cleaning.

  Xander and I will go through the whole house. Basement to attic. We’ll see if anybody’s there.”

  Toria inhaled sharply and covered her mouth. A bit melodramatic, Xander thought, but that was Toria.

  “Or if there are ways to get in we don’t know about,”

  Dad said.

  David said, “I want to search too.”

  Dad shook his head. “I don’t think—”

  Xander touched Dad’s arm and said, “He can do it.”

  Dad studied Xander’s face. Maybe he was trying to gauge whether Xander was sticking up for his brother because he thought David could handle it, or because he was going to use the opportunity to somehow scare Dae. Whatever he saw in Xander’s eyes, he seemed to appreciate it. He nodded, said, “Okay. It’ll be the King boys then.”

  David smiled. “And may God have mercy on anyone we find . . .”

  “Because we won’t!” Xander finished.

  THURSDAY, 10:49 P.M.

  The flashlight beams pushed away the inky blackness of the basement. The walls and floor were stone. Cobwebs and spider-webs everywhere. David pointed out that he heard the squeaking of rodents and the click of their claws on the stone. “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “No kidding,” Xander said.

  Dad said, “We’ll just take a walk around. See if there’s anything obvious. We don’t have to move things around, or anything.”

  What they had seen so far was a basement full of wooden crates, loose lumber, and cardboard boxes that had mostly rotted away, spilling their contents of old clothes, dishes, and record albums onto the floor. The electricity was supposed to have been turned on, but it hadn’t been when Dad last checked. It was impossible to tell how large the basement was. Their lights did not go far, and the area was divided by stone walls that seemed to Xander to be haphazardly placed. If it occupied the same square footage as the first floor, it would be big enough to install an Olympic-sized pool or maybe a couple bowling alleys.

  “So what are we looking for?” David asked.

  Dad said, “Evidence that someone is squatting down here.”

  “Squatting? Gross,” David said.

  Xander laughed.

  “It means living somewhere you’re not supposed to,” Dad explained.

  “Or doing something you’re not supposed to,” David said.

  This time they all laughed. Their voices seemed to cut away some of the gloom. It made the search less creepy.

  Their flashlights came upon a wood-plank door. Xander and David looked to Dad.

  “Let’s check all the rooms. Keep your eyes open for doors or recesses that might lead to a sub-basement or root cellar or to the outside.”

  “This is like a video game,” David said.

  “It’s like And Then There Were None,” Xander corrected. “That’s where all these people are stuck in a house and they’re-”

  “That’s enough, Xander,” Dad said.

  They stood with their flashlights on the door. No one moved. If Xander were directing this, he would have a camera approaching them from behind while they weren’t looking. He spun around, panning the light back and forth.

  “What?” David said, a little too shrill.

  “Nothing. Thought I heard something.”

  No one moved toward the door. Xander said, “Dad?”

  “All right.” He moved to the door. Xander’s heart leaped as a black figure sprung up in front of Dad. Then he realized it was Dad’s shadow. Xander’s and David’s flashlights had created it. Dad pulled open the door. Its hinges squealed like a rat caught in a trap.

  “And don’t scare us,” David said in a loud whisper.

  Dad’s light moved around the room, then he stepped back. He shut the door. “Nothing,” he said. “And how about this . . .” He used his finger to draw a big cartoon face in the dust on the door. the figure’s name was “Bob,” and Dad had been drawing him since he’d been a kid. Bob was the family’s unofficial mascot.

  When he finished, Dad smiled and nodded. “There. Now we’ve marked this area as ours.”

  “I can think of another way to mark our territory,” Xander said.

  “Hey,” Dad said. “None of that.”

  Together they moved through the basement, checking rooms and corners. They saw lots of spiders and rat poop, dust and dirt, but no people or indications that someone had ever lived down there. When the stairs came back around, Xander sighed with relief.

  “What do the cops say?” Dad asked.

  “Clear!” Xander called.

  “Al
l right, then,” Dad said. “Onward and upward.” He climbed the stairs, clicking his flashlight off as he neared the open door at the top.

  “No squatters,” Xander said, making the word sound as gross as he could.

  David smiled and started up the stairs. “So what about And Then There Were None?” he said.

  Xander thought again of the camera moving in the darkness toward him, and he bolted up the stairs right into David’s back. “I’ll tell you later. Just hurry it up.”

  CHAPTER

  fifteen

  THURSDAY, 12:01 P.M.

  They’d gotten through half of the first floor when Mom called them to lunch. PB&J and potato chips in the dining room. She had cleaned the room well, and Xander was starting to see the house’s potential as a nice home. Even the table and chairs, left there by the previous owner, had been polished to a nice shine. They didn’t look nearly as battered and ruined as when Xander had first seen them. Dad said the hardwood floor needed resurfacing, but it looked fine to Xander, kind of rustic and retro.

  “Have you been helping your mom, young lady?” Dad asked Toria.

  “I cleaned the windowsills,” she said proudly.

  “That’s it?” David asked.

  “And my room!”

  Mom nodded. “Mostly, she’s been in her room.” She handed Dad a paper plate with a sandwich cut diagonally. “I take it you haven’t found anyone lurking in our house.”

  “No squatters,” David said and broke up laughing.

  Mom gave him a puzzled look.

  Smiling, Xander shook his head to show that, at least in front of his mother, he was above such childish humor. He said, “We searched the whole basement.”

  “Talk about creepy,” David said.

  “Yeah,” Xander agreed, “but we didn’t find anybody.”

  “And no place where anybody’s been staying,” Dad added.

  “Or any way to get into the house.”

  Nonetheless, Mom looked worried. She said, “Could we put a lock on the basement door? Just in case?”

  “Sure,” Dad said. “We can bolt this place up like Fort Knox.” He popped a chip into his mouth.

  “We’re about half-finished with this floor,” Xander said.