The Haunting of Caldgrave House Read online

  Copyright 2018 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  First published: March 2018

  “Stay close to me, Hugo. I've seen enough horror films to know the dog always gets it.”

  Moving to the English countryside with her parents, Maisie immediately takes a dislike to their new home. Old, crumbling and covered in rotting moss, Caldgrave House is about as welcoming as its name suggests. But as she tries to get used to her new surroundings, Maisie at least has someone to keep her company.

  Hugo. Her dog.

  Unfortunately for Hugo, he's already begun to notice some strange things at the house. Who are the mysterious scentless figures who seem to move around unseen by the others? Why does a broken-jawed woman keep going into Maisie's bedroom? Who buried a copy of the Bible in the garden, with some of its pages turned upside down? And what is the cause of an ear-piercing scream that sometimes rings out at night when everyone else is asleep?

  Before long, Maisie and Hugo find themselves trapped by the house's vengeful spirits. Something awful once happened at Caldgrave House, something that left long-lasting echoes. And now an evil force is stirring in the basement, preparing to claim its next victim.

  THE HAUNTING OF CALDGRAVE HOUSE is a horror novel about one girl and her dog, and about a vengeful spirit that has waited patiently for its next chance to feed.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter TwentyOne

  Chapter TwentyTwo

  Chapter TwentyThree

  Chapter TwentyFour

  Chapter TwentyFive

  Chapter TwentySix

  Chapter TwentySeven

  Chapter TwentyEight

  Chapter TwentyNine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter ThirtyOne

  Chapter ThirtyTwo

  Chapter ThirtyThree

  Chapter ThirtyFour

  Epilogue

  The Haunting of Caldgrave House

  Prologue

  September 18th, 1885

  Got her!

  Racing through the forest, darting between the trees, I bark as I rush to catch the woman. Her scent is everywhere. Blood and sweat, left trailing in the air so clearly that I can almost see their delicate wisps. All I have to do is follow those scents and -

  There!

  I see her.

  She's running ahead, desperately trying to get away. She has no chance, of course. She's not fast enough, and once I catch someone's scent I never, ever let go.

  Behind me, Master and the others are blowing their whistles and shouting as they try to keep up. They know they can rely on me.

  Already, I've halved the distance to the woman in just a few seconds. I can hear her gasping for breath as she runs, and a moment later she glances over her shoulder and looks straight at me.

  She's terrified.

  I can smell her fear.

  I was born to do one thing, and this is it.

  “No!” she screams, as I race even closer on my long, powerful legs. “No! No! N -”

  I leap at her and land on her back, pushing her to the ground and managing – even in mid-air – to bite down hard on the flailing strands of her dress. She tries to push me away, but I let out a warning snarl that causes her to shriek with fear.

  I let go of her dress for a moment and start barking, to let the others know exactly where I am.

  “Leave me alone!” she gasps. “It's not me! You've got the wrong person!”

  “Over there!” Master yells, and now I can hear several sets of footsteps racing this way through the forest. “He's got her!”

  “Mercy!” the woman shouts, still struggling in vain to get out from under me. “Oh, mercy! You've got the wrong person!”

  “Parker!” Master says firmly as he reaches us. “Off!”

  I immediately step off the floundering woman, but I don't go too far. Turning, I wait for any sign that she might try to run again. Instead, however, she merely rolls onto her back and puts her hands over her face as she starts sobbing. Already, Master and the four others are taking position around her, blocking off her chance to run again.

  With my mouth wide open and my tongue lolling out, I try to get my breath back.

  “Thought you could run from the law, did you?” Master says, stepping around the woman and then reaching down to stroke the back of my neck. “Not when we've got Parker here. Best police dog in the county.”

  “Have mercy!” the woman begs. “I'm not the one you're looking for! I'm just a simple washer-woman passing through the area! Let me go and I'll leave, never to return!”

  “Save it,” one of the men says with a sneer. “We all know who you are. What you are.”

  “Witch!” the man next to him hisses, before spitting on the woman.

  “I'm not a witch!” she screams. “Why would you say such things?”

  “The courts agree,” another man says with a sigh. “Many times now she's been hauled up, and she always gets off with barely any punishment. If we take her to jail, she'll only end up out again.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Master asks.

  “It's not so long ago,” the man continues, “that men such as ourselves were permitted to mete out our own justice. We know what this witch has done, better than any court or judge could ever understand. We also know that she always returns to this area. Why not save ourselves, and the courts, the hassle of dealing with her again and again? Why not just do what needs doing?”

  “Please,” the woman whimpers, struggling up until she's kneeling on the forest floor. With a tear-stained face, she looks up at each of the men in turn as she clutches her hands together in prayer. “I'm begging you, let me go.”

  “We're not vigilantes,” Master says firmly. “I'm an officer of the law, and I'm going to take her to the local jail. This time, they have to deal with her properly.”

  “You said that the last time,” another man mutters darkly.

  “I'll talk to them,” Master continues. “I'll make them understand. I'll tell them what she's done, they have to -”

  Suddenly the woman leaps up and tries to run. I try to grab her, but two of the men inadvertently get in my way. Fortunately, however, the woman then tries to change direction in her escape attempt, and I'm able to leap at her and grab her by the arm. Although I'm not supposed to bite, in the confusion I am able only to grab her left forearm, and I bring her screaming back down to the forest floor. She cries out and punches the side of my head with her other fist, but – despite the considerable pain – I refuse to let go.

  “Parker!” Master shouts. “Off!”

  I do as I'm told, just as one of the other man slams a baton against the woman's shoulder.

  “Don't touch me!” she sneers, turning and looking up at the men. “Do you have any idea what I'll do to you once I'm out
? I'll track down each one of you and make you suffer! I'll put curses on you all and cause your entire families to rot in agony! I'll -”

  Before she can finish, the man hits her hard on the back of the head, sending her slumping forward with a thud.

  “The woman is a witch,” the man says, as the woman groans on the ground. “Who's to say she won't carry out her threats? Constable Mortimer, I beg you... See what we have here before us. See what we have to do.”

  “You have a wife and two sons, Mortimer,” another man adds. “Would you risk having this witch emerge from jail in six or nine months and seek her revenge?”

  Master reaches down and scratches behind my ears. I always like when he does that, but I also know that it's his way of thinking about an important matter. Indeed, he falls silent for a moment, and the other men – clearly aware that he's in charge of this impromptu pack – wait for him to speak.

  “What are we to do with her, then?” Master asks finally. “If we do not haul her off to jail, then -”

  “I know a place,” one of the other men says. “A place she can be put, where she'll never be found.”

  “None of us can ever speak of this day again,” Master tells him. “If we do this, we must take the secret to our graves.”

  “You'll get no argument from me on that score,” the man opposite me says.

  “She's a witch,” another man adds. “The one bonus there is that at least no-one'll care to come looking for her.”

  “Trust me,” the first man says, “when we do what I'm thinking to get rid of her, she'll be gone forever. No trace. No memory. She'll just be gone and nobody will ever have to worry about her ever again.”

  “Then we take a vote,” Master says. “All those in favor, raise your hands.”

  Two of the men immediately raise their hands, and then the others follow one-by-one until Master is the only one not to do so. He hesitates for a moment, clearly concerned, before finally he too raises his hand.

  “It's decided,” one of the other men says. “Best get it over with, if you ask me.”

  Two others haul the groaning woman up from the forest floor. There's blood on the back of her head and she seems only semi-conscious, but she's just about able to walk as she's led away through the forest. Master and I bring up the rear, keeping pace with the others as they make their way between the trees. I'm watching the woman carefully, in case she shows any sign that she might try again to run, but I'm also very aware that Master seems subdued, as if he's not happy about something.

  “May the Lord have mercy on our souls,” he whispers as we walk, “for what we are to do today.”

  I look up at him, and he glances at me.

  “Don't think less of me, Parker,” he adds. “This is the right thing. The Lord will see that, I'm sure.”

  Apart from Parker, which is my name, I don't know what any of those words mean. Then again, I don't need to know. I did my job, I chased the woman down so that Master and the others could catch her. I'll let Master make all the decisions. I know my place and I'm happy with that, and now I must simply accompany Master until he gives me my next command. Such is my life, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I live to serve Master, to do his bidding. To work. To chase. To hunt. To do my job.

  What other kind of life could any dog want?

  Chapter One

  Today

  I'm running faster than I've ever run before!

  People are yelling at me, but I don't care. I race past them all, slipping quickly around their legs and then darting out into the middle of the road. I know this is wrong, I know I should stop and go back, but my legs are pounding hard against the pavement and for the first time in my life I feel as if everything is perfect. This is what I was born to do, and finally I'm running so fast I can feel the air blasting against my fur.

  And I'm not going to stop.

  Never.

  Ever.

  I'm going to run and run and run and I'll never drop. I'm too strong, and too fast, to ever get tired. I've even started yelping with delight, barking in a happy way, and for the first time I feel as if I know exactly what it means to be alive. All the voices are too far away now to hold me back, and I'm becoming one with the wind and the air. My mouth is wide open, my tongue is flapping out from one corner, and all that matters is that I keep running forever and ever. Even though... I can hear someone laughing. Several people, actually. Laughing and saying my name. Familiar voices.

  Wait.

  Where am I?

  ***

  Suddenly I open my eyes. I hadn't even realized they were closed. Confused for a moment, I raise my head and look around, and I see Maisie grinning down at me from the next seat.

  I'm in the car.

  Looking down, I see that I'm on my favorite blanket on the back seat of the car. As if to underline that point, the car bumps slightly as it races along the road, and I turn to see that Michael's in the driving seat while Linda's tapping at something she's holding in her hands. I can see the sky moving fast outside the window, and every few seconds the very top of a tree flashes past.

  I've been asleep.

  I like being asleep.

  I like snoozing the days away, and never really having to do much. Especially in my favorite blanket, which – slightly unusually, I have to admit – I've been allowed to have in the car for this trip. I suppose I should maybe think a little more about the fact that this journey is taking so long, but it's very difficult to worry when you're so comfortable.

  Bliss.

  “Mummy,” Maisie says, still laughing, “Hugo was dreaming!”

  “I heard, honey,” Linda says, sounding bored and not even looking up from whatever she's doing.

  “You were dreaming!”

  Suddenly Maisie reaches over and pats me on the neck. I turn to her, and now I finally understand. I was dreaming, I was dreaming I was running, and I think I know why. The car's windows are open, and warm summer air is blasting into the car and bringing the smell of grass and flowers to mix with the stench of gasoline that I can always smell whenever we go for a drive. I must have been smelling all of that while I was asleep, and that's why I had a dream where I was running. Not that I really run that much. I mean, I chase my ball when we play, but in general I do like a good, relaxing nap.

  Wait, my ear itches!

  I sit up on the blanket and use my back paw to start scratching behind my ear. That feels good, although after a moment I hear Maisie laugh again. I don't like being laughed at, but I also don't like having an itch and I'm not quite done scratching it away. I lower and tilt my head, to get a better angle, and now that scratch is really starting to get gone. For a few seconds, I pay no attention to anything else around me. All that matters is itching this scratch, and I'm not even annoyed by the sound of my own collar jangling as I work.

  And then I smell it!

  Sitting bolt upright, I look over at the nearest window and sniff the air. Something's changed out there, I can smell a different kind of grass and different flowers. I step toward the window and raise my head so I can see out, and I'm shocked by the sight of the biggest park I've ever seen in my life flashing past as we continue to drive along the road. Back in London, I sometimes went to some really big parks, but right now all I can see is a huge park that runs all the way to the horizon. I turn and look the other way, and I see that – sure enough – the park is the same on the other side of the road too. I can feel my tail starting to wag cautiously, although at the same time I'm frustrated that we can't get out of the car and go for a run.

  “This is the countryside,” Maisie says, stroking my back gently. “We're moving to live in the countryside now, Hugo. Isn't that great?”

  All I can do is stare out the window as new smell after new smell crashes against my nose. I tilt my head back slightly, to pick up the scents better, but to be honest all these new smells are racing at me too fast and I can't quite untangle them all. The trees out here are different, and the flowers are different, and I
can smell manure and things that I can't even identify. I can smell animals, and not just the mean cats that used to slink around near our flat in the city, and I can smell running water somewhere in the distance. Even the air out here smells different, and cleaner. It's like we're in a whole new world.

  Suddenly the car starts to slow. I lurch forward and slam against the back of Linda's seat, and Maisie doesn't quite catch me in time. She manages to grab me before I fall down against her feet, however, and I scramble for a moment as she pulls me onto her lap. At the same time, the car swings to the right, taking a corner turn and then starting to really shake and rumble as we drive along a much rougher road.

  “Nearly there,” Michael says. “That five-hour drive really flew past, huh?”

  “You're scratching me,” Maisie mumbles as I struggle to stand on her lap, but all I can think is that I want to see out the window again.

  This new road has lots of big, old trees on either side. I try to look up and see their tops, but they're too high. The sun's high in the sky, far off, and the light flashes brightly between the moments when the trees are in the way. I watch for a moment before sneezing, and then I scramble off Maisie's lap and hurry over to look out the other side of the car.

  “I think Hugo's excited,” Maisie says next to me. “His tail's wagging like crazy.”

  She's right. I hadn't noticed, but my tail is wagging.

  The view from this side of the car isn't very different, really, except that when I look ahead I can see the road starting to curve around to one side. There are lots more trees, but then I spot something large and dark up ahead, barely visible in the distance.

  And the smell.

  I'm picking up a really strong smell of wood. Old wood, like the wood you sometimes find in city parks where bits of fences and benches have been left out in the rain. I take a deeper sniff as we rumble closer to the building at the end of the road, but to be honest there are so many other smells right now – trees and flowers and water and air and gasoline and all the food in the car's boot – that it's hard to focus on any one smell in particular. The only thing I know for sure is that after this long drive, almost all the city smells have gone away entirely and we're somewhere very new.