Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

Anniversary - 4

Next morning, Claire was surprised to find Alex already up and making breakfast. Pearl Jam playing on her computer was enough of a teaser of her aunt's mood. She moved around in no hurry, singing along Inside Job under her breath. The girl sat at the breakfast bar with a quick smile. No need to be empathic to sense Alex's special mood.

Alex brought breakfast to the bar and sat opposite Claire.

"Are we going to the cemetery?" the girl asked.

"If you want," Alex replied softly.

Claire frowned. "You don't?"

"I had something different in mind." Alex shrugged, eyes down on her tea. "We should go to the farm. After what's been happening over the last two months, I think it's time you learn what really happened back then."

"What really happened?" Claire repeated, taken aback.

Alex kept looking down at her mug. "There are things I never told you—nor anybody. Y'know, about how they died."

The girl needed three tries to be able to whisper, "You mean you know who killed our family?"

"Not who. What," Alex corrected curtly.

Claire gaped, speechless. How come Alex had never mentioned it? How come she had never sensed anything from her? She expected Alex would go on, give some kind, any kind of explanation. But Alex had breakfast in complete silence.

They hardly traded a world on the way to the farm. Claire kept her eyes out her window, looking but not seeing the woods in the golden morning light. Alex still listened to Pearl Jam, humming every song to herself, eyes ahead on the bumpy road, hands steady on the wheel.

She'd given it a lot of thought. It'd be tough for her niece, but the girl needed to know the truth.

Alex had tried everything to leave Bootter's legacy behind and give Claire a nice life, as normal as possible. But Montana had happened, and Rob's moonflower parasite, and Felicity's cobolt. Just like she'd told Claire when they'd gotten back home: it was a door that, once opened, was nearly impossible to close back.

What got on her nerves the most was that Claire seemed happy about it, willing to keep the door open and welcome in whatever felt like joining the party. That was her main reason to take the girl to the farm on that special date, and share all she knew about that tragic event. She wanted, she needed Claire completely aware of what might be the price to pay for opening that infamous door.

She parked the Hilux under the apple tree, like she used to do when they still lived there. She stepped out and headed to the house, admiring the bright blue sky above her head. She paused at the first step of the porch and looked back. Claire was still in the truck, studying the house with a suspicious frown. The girl saw Alex waiting for her, breathed deep and got out of the Hilux.

"What is it?" Alex asked. "You're sensing something?"

Claire shook her head, still looking the house up and down.

"Well, c'mon, then. If there's a ghost in here, it can only be family. Maybe we even get lucky and they welcome us with cake or pudding."

"Al!" Claire grumbled, catching up with her.

Alex opened the rusty screen and used her old key on the front door. She glanced at Claire, raising her eyebrows. The girl nodded and she pushed the front door open.

They walked in together. The house was empty inside. Alex had given away most of the furniture they hadn't taken to town when they moved out, and burned the rest. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, the window panes, the fireplace mantelpiece. The only decoration around was crafted by a family of hard-working spiders with a taste for cool corners.

Alex waved Claire over and crossed the living room and past the stairs, to the hall leading to the kitchen.

Claire breathed deep again. Somehow, Alex had turned herself into a black slate where the girl's empathy could read nothing. And it was so odd, that Alex masked her emotions like that. It made her feel at a complete loss. Whatever she was about to learn about their family's tragedy, Alex wanted her to face it all on her own.

Alex waited at the kitchen doorway. From there, she pointed at the other end of the long room.

"I found them there," she said, almost casual, only reporting a fact. "Mom, Dad, Rosalind, Grandpa. The four of them were tied down to chairs and gagged, sitting side by side across the room. They'd been dead for at least a day, and all of them had traces of deep bites on their arms and necks.

Claire nodded. She had a blurry recollection of it. That night, Alex had stopped her from walking into the kitchen, holding her tight so she wouldn't see the room. But she'd had a glimpse of it as Alex dragged her out and away. That memory matched her aunt's description.

Alex strode across the empty room and opened the windows blinds on the wall opposite the door. Claire's belly twitched when Alex motioned for the girl to join her and crouched down, exactly one step away from where the chairs had been.

"Don't step on the blood."

Claire halted, startled, and looked down, spotting the blackened stains on the floor under a thick layer of dust.

"Is that—?" she mumbled.

"Their blood, yes. Most likely your mother's."

Claire stepped back, shocked. "Why didn't you have it cleaned?" she cried.

"'Cause I knew it'd help me figure out what had happened. Now come here."

Alex voice was cold and sharp, making Claire feel her reproach was a silly tantrum. The girl pressed her lips together and joined her. She was crouching before more dusty dark stains.

"Here's where they had Grandpa. He drew something with his own dripping blood. Let's see if you're any smart and can figure it out. It's a letter and two numbers."

Her words felt like a slap on the back of Claire's head. They seemed to force the girl's eyes to focus. She crouched down by Alex, studying the stains. And all of a sudden, she saw it. She gasped when the drops became lines for her.

"E. Seven. Three," she murmured.

"Correct." Alex straightened up and pointed at another stain two feet away, closer to the window. "What d'you see there?"

Claire looked and frowned. "A footprint?"

"Yes." Alex put her foot by the bloody footprint. "The trace of a hiking boot about my size. But I was the only woman here when Graham brought the ambulance to take the bodies. And I didn't come this far while the blood was still fresh."

The girl's eyes widened. "You mean—?"

"D'you see anything special about it?"

Claire leaned in to take a better look at the old, fading stain, noticing the lines like a design on the sole.

"There's some kind of brand or logo. A cross ending in a hook."

"Keep it in mind." Alex motioned for Claire to stand up, speaking while she closed the blinds again. "At first, I thought there was only one set of footprints. But later I found another, a bit smaller. They were all over the house. Dry mud upstairs, blood down here."

Claire followed her down the hall, feeling her head spin as she tried to process and digest what Alex was revealing.

"So the attackers were two," Alex said. "Two females. And both of them had the same brand on their soles."

"Makes no sense! How could two women overcome and subdue our whole family?" asked Claire.

"I said females, not women. Come, I'll show you how Grandpa's doodles were the key to it all."