6. The Darker Side

Chapter Six

The year Chris had his tonsils out, he’d been four and for the first time in his life, after what had happened in the hospital, hadn’t been in the mood for Halloween. Maybe it was because the surgery had happened barely a month before Halloween, maybe it was the fact he still knew he’d encountered a ghost nurse in the pediatric ward.

But tonight, he wasn’t so much in the mood. Even though it was just a few friends doing a movie marathon with a lot of gross snacks and maybe a few ghost stories the closer it got to midnight, he still wasn’t in the mood. Chris’ only contribution was wearing his Halloween shirt. It was a picture of Freddy Krueger and the words: Have a nice Frightmare.

He’d gotten bored inside, they’d been eating snacks in readiness for the movie marathon, and moved outside. It was cold outside and he was wearing long sleeves and jeans, but no jacket. He figured he’d endure it for a couple of minutes and head back inside. Then he heard the noise.

It had sounded like something heavy had toppled over but it hadn’t been in the Chambers’ house, even upstairs. It had been at the old Lancaster Estate.

Chris told himself he was imagining things but his wayward brain made a few lightning fast connections. Although Pratchett was in jail, awaiting arraignment, the woman had gotten away. She’d used the Lancaster Estate before for a ‘hideout’ and maybe it was only in his mind, but this wasn’t over.

He felt the anger rise up again and thought about his family. All of them still had the remnants of what might have been a cold or upper respiratory issue due to the knockout gas. Mom watched all of them like a hawk and yesterday, he’d almost thought she wouldn’t even let them out to go to this get-together tonight.

So he walked over there, found the French doors unlocked and decided he’d do what he said he would. Maybe not with Pratchett, and truth was he’d never hit a girl, woman, whatever…ever, but he was angry enough to consider it. Who knew, maybe he could do a citizen’s arrest or something.

He walked inside and saw it was dark and decrepit as it had been two years ago. He had a little pocket flashlight and switched it on. It didn’t do much to relieve the blackness but he could make out details that he had never noticed before. 

There was a wooden floor here and windows, like it might have been a plant room back in the day. It took him a moment to remember the name for it. Solarium. On the floor were what looked like bent sticks but when he looked closer he had a hunch it was wicker or rattan, like what his mother had on the deck. But it looked brittle, like if he touched it, it would disintegrate before his eyes.

The floor had a pattern in it but it was so warped and dried out, it looked brittle too. He was careful where he walked as he moved deeper in the house. He reached another room where there was an old, huge brick fireplace. It had small hinged doors on either side of the main fireplace and he wondered how old the house really was. He’d seen similar fireplaces in some of the historic houses in Salem, the spaces behind the hinged doors was where the bread and other stuff was baked, long paddles similar but shaped slightly differently than boat paddles slid stuff in and out. There were two levels in the main fireplace and what looked like a swivel arm that would have held a large pot.  The floor here was stained and crusted over, whatever was here, had been sticky with all kinds of debris embedded in but it had hardened. He’d once overheard his dad and uncle talking about how it had been awhile since either of them could stomach syrup but he’d never gotten around to asking why. Chris knelt down and touched it, broke off a piece and it still held the faint scent of maple. 

He shot to his feet so fast, he felt dizzy. “Sick. That is so sick.”

“You came back.”

Chris jumped a foot off the ground and swung around. Even in the dimness of the flashlight, he saw it was her. He remembered now, her name was Lilith Raven. He’d read a story once about a woman named Lilith, believed to be Adam’s first wife before Eve and that she might have been the source of the story of vampires. At the moment, he could easily believe this was that Lilith. He reached for his phone. “I’ll call the police, they’ll get you. Pratchett’s in jail.”