The House on Clamoribus St

Prologue

Starlight

The road seemed to stretch forever ahead of us, nothing but dormant grass pastures at each side. Hadn’t seen another car for about a half hour, and normally I wouldn’t care. When Dylan Cleghorn’s fiddle kept me company, I could drive to the edge of the world and back. But this time, the magic of Cleghorn’s music could not distract me from the grim countenance plastered on John’s face.

John’s eyes seemed lost, perpetually staring into the endlessness of the road ahead, his lips were pursed tight as if sewn together with and invisible thread.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as his left leg began to quake impatiently, nearly kneeing the dashboard while the fingers on his right hand tapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of a melody playing for him alone. Soon the subtle thudding sound grew into annoying thumping.

For the third time in the last mile, John brushed his shaggy hair off his forehead and checked his phone, hitting the Facebook icon and watching the pinwheel spin as his phone searched for a signal. The car, John’s mom’s car, began to drift to the right. I cleared my throat and he looked up and adjusted our trajectory before looking back down at his phone. He put the phone down with an exasperated sigh.

“You really shouldn’t be on your phone while driving, John,” I said.

“Well, I don’t remember asking you, Starlight,” John said. “If you two get into any trouble at all, we’re going home. I am only doing this because Mom said I had to since she gave me the car. My car, my rules.”

“Spit it out,” I said. “We are on our way to SteamCon, the greatest Steampunk convention in America and you look as though you were being forced to go to your grandma’s funeral. I know you didn’t want to take us, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the trip.”

“It’s not just the trip,” Jamie said. “Coming home after so long is stirring up some unpleasant memories and being forced to take us on a road trip isn’t helping. Thank you, by the way.”

“Shut up, Jamie,” John said. “You don’t know anything. No one even likes Steampunk. It’s the niche for losers who never grew up. We should have gone to SciCon.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get tickets for this event?” I said. “Oh look, big private school and college boy thinks he’s so much better than everyone. Steampunk is awesome.”

John fumed and shook his head, increasing the speed of our car.

“Dragon Air, Imagine Dragons, Dragons are Real, and Remembering Dragons will be there,” Jamie said. “Those are some of greatest Steampunk bands of all time. We have been waiting for a whole year for this.”

“GPS signal lost,” my phone said and at the same the radio bounced back and forth from Nine Minutes of Woo to deafening white noise.

“Some co-pilot you are,” John said.

“Hey, your phone lost signal like an hour ago,” I said. “At least mine lasted this long.”

Taken aback by the peculiar way the clouds swirled in the sky, which reminded me of The Starry Night Van Gogh painting I adored, I poked John on his side until I got his attention.

“What?” he asked annoyed, taking his eyes off the road for an uncomfortably long time to stare at me.

“Are you seeing this?” I gestured toward the clouds. John leaned closer to the steering wheel, mouth agape.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said.

I reached to the back seat and tapped on Jamie’s leg.

“I see it,” she said. “What the heck is going on?”