The House on Everley Street (Death Herself Book 2) Page 15

  He stopped and waited.

  Listening.

  There seemed to be a scream in the air, yet the basement itself was silent. For a moment, he could almost imagine a figure on the other side of the wall, slamming its fists against the blocks and begging to be let out. At the same time, he couldn't hear a thing. He figured he'd been alone in the house for long enough, and that his imagination had begun to run wild.

  Time to go.

  Heading back up to the hatch, he told himself that he needed to be strong, that he was in danger of getting too sentimental. Even though he wanted to once again go down to the basement and search, he forced himself to close the hatch and slide the bolt across, and then to head to the door. Stepping outside, he pulled the door shut and this time he wasted no time in slipping the key into the lock. Finally, after hauling his bag onto his shoulder, he headed to the street and stopped, before looking back at the house one final time.

  He felt a shiver pass through his body as he realized that he'd most likely never see the place again.

  “Goodbye,” he whispered, looking at the bedroom window and half expecting to see his grandmother's ghost staring down at him. But, of course, she wasn't there. There was no such thing as ghosts, he knew that now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Today

  “Wow!” Sarah said, laughing as she saw another float coming past, this time with a large model of a windmill lit up against the night sky. “That's the best one yet!”

  The carnival had been running for almost an hour now but showed no signs of stopping. Marching bands played as trucks pulled large, decorated trailers along the seafront road, and a large crowd of several thousand people had turned out to watch the procession as it made its way slowly past the castle and then along the promenade toward the fun fair that had fetched up in town for the summer. Street vendors were selling burgers and hot-dogs, while every twenty feet or so there were clowns selling balloons.

  “Katie,” Sarah continued, nudging her daughter's shoulder, “can you see properly? Do you want me to lift you up?”

  “It's okay,” Katie replied, clearly not enjoying herself very much as she watched a huge plastic swan being driven past, with three teenaged girls sitting on the back wearing white dresses and crowns.

  “Come on,” Sarah said, picking her up anyway and lifting her so she could see better. “I bet you've never seen anything like this, huh?”

  “It's pretty weird,” Katie muttered.

  “So what's wrong?” Sarah asked. “You and Scott have seemed off ever since I got back from town earlier.”

  Katie turned to her.

  “Did something happen?” Sarah asked cautiously.

  “Dad got really mad at us,” Katie replied, as another marching band made its way past.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. We just went down into the basement.”

  “By yourselves?”

  “I know we weren't supposed to, but Dad got really angry. I thought he was going to hit us.”

  “Your father would never do that,” Sarah told her, as she spotted John and Scott making their way back through the crowd with candy floss. “You know that, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “This is lame,” Scott said he reached them, rolling his eyes. “I can't believe people actually pretend they enjoy it.”

  “To be fair,” John told him, “I used to think it was lame when I was your age too. It's only now that I can really appreciate it in all its tacky glory.”

  “Do you want an ice cream?” Sarah asked Katie, hoping to cheer her daughter up a little.

  Katie shook her head.

  “A balloon?”

  “No thank you.”

  “Well you have to have something.”

  “Can you put me down on the ground? My legs are aching.”

  Setting Katie down, Sarah paused for a moment before turning to John. “So I heard you got pretty mad at the kids earlier when they went into the basement.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “I think you freaked Katie out.”

  “That's not exactly difficult. The kid's jumpy as hell.”

  “Okay,” Sarah replied, a little shocked by his attitude, “that's new. What crawled up your butt and died?”

  “I just told them not to go down there and they disobeyed me, that's all. I thought we were supposed to be instilling a little respect in their minds?”

  “We are, but...” Pausing, she realized that something seemed a little different about her husband, as if he was harsher and less tolerant. He'd always been more lenient with the children, yet any mention of the basement was clearly enough to get him riled. “This place isn't good for you, is it?” she asked finally. “This whole town, I mean. I didn't understand before, but I see it now.”

  “It's not the town. It's just the way the kids disobeyed me.”

  Spotting a dark mark on his neck, she leaned closer. “Did you burn yourself?”

  He quickly pulled his collar up. “It's nothing.”

  She opened her mouth to ask again, but she knew her husband well enough to realize that he was clamming up. “I met the people who sold the house earlier,” she continued finally. “I got their names from Reginald and I arranged to meet them in a cafe.”

  He turned to her. “Without telling me?”

  “You said you didn't want to bother.”

  “I didn't mean for you to go behind my back.”

  “Calm down,” she replied, “I just met the woman, Deborah Watkins, for a cup of tea and a chat. She had some interesting things to say about that house.”

  “Such as?”

  “Do you know that she and her husband were basically driven out of the place? From what she said, it's clear she thinks the house is haunted and -”

  “Rubbish.”

  “I saw her daughter,” Sarah continued, as another float drove past blaring loud music. “They have this one-year-old baby and she's kind of catatonic. Deborah said that the girl screamed and screamed on the night they left, and she said she thought... Well, I know you'll think this sounds crazy, but she said she thought there was something living in the basement.”

  John rolled his eyes.

  “I'm serious,” Sarah told him. “She wasn't making it up, she definitely believed it.”

  “Then she's obviously nuts. It's probably postpartum depression, something like that.”

  “Have you ever noticed anything in the basement?”

  “I've barely been down there.”

  “And yet you act like a maniac when the kids dare to take a look.”

  “I told you -”

  “I don't believe in ghosts,” she replied, interrupting him. “You know that, I've always been like that and it's still true, but there are a lot of weird things pointing at that basement right now. I'm not making any grand claims, but...” She paused for a moment. “I'm just glad we're getting out of here tomorrow. I know it was my idea to stay, but with the way things have been going -”

  “Actually, I think I might stick around for a few more days.”

  She stared at him, barely able to believe what he'd just said. “What?”

  “I have a few things to do. You and the kids should go back to London, but I want to stay in the house a little while longer.” A passing float lit up his face and he smiled. “Look at that one,” he continued, as if he was trying to change the subject. “Are they supposed to be ants or butterflies? It's kinda hard to tell.”

  “John -”

  “Can't I have a little time by myself?” He kept his eyes on the passing float, as the flashing lights bathed his face in red light, then yellow, then white, then back to red again.

  Sarah paused, worried by the sudden change in her husband's demeanor. In less than twenty-four hours they'd switched positions, and now she was the one who wanted to leave while he preferred to stick around.

  “John,” she said finally, “I really think -”

  “Let's go get you an ice c
ream,” John said suddenly, grabbing Katie's hand. “Come on, you always love ice cream, and I really could do with not being nagged for a few minutes.”

  “Nagged?” Sarah said, shocked by his tone.

  “I don't want an ice cream right now,” Katie replied.

  “Of course you do.”

  “I think she's okay,” Sarah said. “John, let's just watch the rest of the carnival.”

  “Well, I want an ice cream,” he continued, “and I'd like to take Katie with me. Is that okay? We came down here to have fun, right? So let's have fun instead of going on and on about things.”

  She opened her mouth to argue with him, before realizing that there was no point. Instead, she watched as he led a reluctant Katie away through the crowd. He seemed nervous and on edge, as if he couldn't stay still for more than a few minutes at a time.

  “What's wrong with Dad?” Scott asked.

  She turned to look at him, as another marching band passed in the street nearby.

  “Nothing,” she said after moment, forcing a smile. “Nothing's wrong with him, he's just finding it a little odd to be back in his hometown, that's all. Don't worry, this time tomorrow we'll be back in London and everything'll be back to normal.”

  ***

  “John!” she called out a couple of hours later, making her way across the garbage-strewn street that was still waiting for council sweepers to arrive now that the parade was over. “John! Katie! Where are you?”

  The carnival had died down an hour ago and the crowd had dispersed quickly, while the fun fair had shut down and the beach area was now mostly empty except for a few scattered groups of people hanging out in the shadows. So far, however, there was no sign of either John or Katie, and although she kept telling herself not to worry about the fact that her husband wasn't answering his phone, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling in her gut that something didn't feel quite right.

  “Dad!” Scott shouted, a few steps further back. “Katie!”

  “Come on,” Sarah muttered, taking her phone from her pocket and trying his number again, still to no avail. “Are you trying to make some kind of point?” she wondered out loud, turning and looking both ways along the street. “Is that what this is?”

  “Maybe they're down by the water,” Scott suggested.

  “We already checked there.”

  “Yeah, but maybe we missed them before.”

  She turned to him.

  “Where else should we look?” he asked with a shrug.

  “Maybe they just went home,” she pointed out.

  “Without telling us?”

  “Maybe your father lost his phone, and then he couldn't find us in the crowd.”

  “We didn't move from where we were when he left.”

  “Well, it must be something like that,” she replied, starting to feel exasperated. She kept telling herself not to panic, that Katie was absolutely fine with John, but at the same time she also felt as if her husband seemed a little different, as if he was holding something back. “We'll check the beach one more time and then we should head back to the house. We'll probably find them back in the kitchen, laughing about the fact that we spent so long out here looking for them.”

  “You don't really think that,” Scott said.

  “Yes, I do. They probably just think this is a game.”

  Forty-five minutes later, having checked the beach and the promenade a couple more times, Sarah and Scott finally got back to the house, and they both noticed immediately that all the lights were off.

  “I don't think they're here,” Scott said cautiously.

  “They probably just went to bed,” Sarah replied, although she felt as if she was clutching at straws. She checked her phone again, to make sure that John hadn't tried calling her back, before leading Scott to the front door and taking the key from her pocket. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she knew she couldn't let her fear show too much. “Come on, there's nothing to worry about. They can't have gone far.”

  They spent the next few minutes looking around the house, only to find no sign of either John or Katie. Although she tried to hide her concern so that Scott wouldn't worry, Sarah was feeling increasingly worried by the time she got back down to the kitchen. She checked her phone yet again, while trying to work out what circumstances would cause John to ignore a dozen calls.

  “We've checked everywhere, then,” she muttered. “They must still be out. I guess they found something fun to do.”

  “We haven't checked everywhere,” Scott pointed out, turning to look at the hatch that led down to the basement.

  “Why would they be down there?”

  He shrugged.

  Sighing, she realized he was right.

  “Wait here,” she told him, heading to the hatch and lifting it up, before looking down into the darkness below. She knew it was crazy, but in the pit of her stomach she felt a strong desire to not go down the steps. “John?” she called out. “Katie?”

  Silence.

  “There's a hidden part down there,” Scott said suddenly.

  She turned to him.

  “There is,” he continued. “Katie and I found it earlier, just before Dad caught us. We didn't ask him about it because he was so mad, but there's a false wall and everything.”

  “Don't be ridiculous,” she replied, “why -”

  “I'll show you,” he said, slipping past her and making his way down the stairs.

  “Scott, don't go down there!”

  “Why not? Because Dad says we can't? Are you scared of him too?”

  “I'm not scared of him, I just...” She paused, before activating the flashlight on her phone and starting to follow him down. “At least let me go first,” she continued. “Scott, seriously, there's no hidden room down here, the idea's completely absurd.”

  “Come and see for yourself,” he replied. “I know what we found.”

  Leading her across the basement, he stopped when he reached the far wall. As soon as he turned his head and pressed his ear against the wall, he could hear the faint scratching sound from before, and a moment later he saw from the shocked look in her eyes that his mother could hear it too.

  “Now do you believe me?” he whispered.

  Stepping back, Sarah shone the flashlight across the wall. She wanted to tell Scott that he was imagining things, that there was no way there could be a hidden room in the basement, but as the scratching sound continued she was starting to realize that whatever was on the other side, it was definitely real.

  “Go upstairs,” she said finally.

  “Why?”

  “Go upstairs and wait for me.” She frowned as the flashlight picked out a section of brickwork that looked different to the rest, as if it could be moved aside. “Scott, don't argue with me, go upstairs.”

  “Are you going to try to get through?” he asked. “I found it, that means I should get to come with you!”

  “Scott,” she said firmly, with her eyes still fixed on the brickwork, “I'm your mother and I'm telling you to go upstairs and wait for me. I'll be two minutes.”

  Sighing, he headed to the steps, before glancing back at her.

  “What if Dad comes home?” he asked cautiously.

  “Then...” She paused. “Just go upstairs and wait.”

  Clearly annoyed, Scott made his way loudly up the stairs, stomping on each step. When he reached the top, however, he ducked down and instead of going through the hatch he settled to watch his mother from the darkness.

  Stepping closer to the brickwork in the corner, Sarah reached out and found that this section of the wall wobbled slightly, as if it wasn't properly secure. She put her phone in her mouth, holding it so the flashlight shone straight ahead, before fumbling with the brickwork and finding that it could be pushed into the wall. There was a faint grinding sound as she pushed further, and then she heard some kind of mechanism coming to life on the other side. A narrow, low doorway was opening in the wall, and after a moment she felt cold air against her hands.
She leaned down and looked through the gap, and now the scratching sound was much louder than before.

  Up on the stairs, Scott watched in horror as his mother bent down and began to crawl inside.

  “Please come back,” he whispered, shaking with fear. “Please...”

  Taking the phone from her mouth, Sarah scrambled to her feet on the other side of the wall and shone the flashlight around. She was in a large, dark room, a second part of the basement, and after a moment the flashlight fell across a set of bones on the floor. Shocked, she stared down and saw that the bones included a full human body, complete with some kind of metal pole screwed to the spine, along with a skull that had been cracked open at the back. The jawbone had been pulled away and was over in the corner. Telling herself that it had to be fake, that there was some obvious explanation she was missing, she spotted more bones nearby before turning and shining the flashlight toward the source of the scratching sound.

  She froze, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  In the middle of the room, there was a dark-haired girl tied and bound on a table. She was tugging at the ropes and chains that secured her, causing the scratching sound as she did so, and a thick gag had been tied around her face, covering her mouth. One of her hands had been worked free, and she was waving what appeared to be a corkscrew toward the darker end of the room, while trying desperately to say something despite the gag.

  “No,” Sarah whispered, taking a step back. “This isn't real.”

  The girl on the table tried again to speak, sounding even more desperate this time.

  “Jesus,” Sarah continued, rushing forward and starting to untie the gag with trembling fingers. “What the hell's going on down here?”

  “Gah!” the girl gasped as soon as the gag was away. “You really took your time, didn't you?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Untie me.”

  “But -”

  “Untie me before she comes back for another shot!”