“I think you should keep the extensions in. Gives you that ‘damsel in distress’ look,” Ricker joked. “Or is it the big jelly donut look? I can’t tell the difference.”
“Your real hair is much more beautiful,” Liam put an arm around Willow, who was staring daggers at Ricker.
“Hey….guys?” Carmen murmured; her tone deadpan. A horrified expression had frozen onto her dark features, and we turned to see the reason all the color had drained from her cheeks. “Is….Is that it?”
Directly in front of us was the quintessential haunted house of childhood nightmares and horror movies, positioned on a decrepit acre of dead leaves. The ragged branches of a lone live oak tree had been stripped of its foliage, which now lay below. No other trees on the island had begun to lose their leaves yet, and the stark contrast chilled me to the bone. Once you were able to move past the layer of brown leaves and the overgrown stone path that used to be a driveway, the main attraction took your breath away.
The Victorian style manor was extremely out of place on an island of beach homes. Its majestic wraparound porch had been warped by the destructive forces of nature, but it still looked to be intact. Ruthless vines of ivy were devouring the entire house inch by inch, and most of the light gray paint had been peeled back from the exterior from years of relentless salt, wind and sand.
Several dormer windows were perched on the third floor overlooking the dreary landscape.
The suffocating darkness and mass of vines drenched the house in mystery; hiding its secrets from the world. It looked…patient. As if waiting for something. Or someone. I felt a gentle push from behind.
“Go ahead Stasia, you go first,” Carmen urged.
“The only way I’m going in that house is if every person out here goes in with me.” I stared at the drab, wooden front door that probably hadn’t been opened in eighty years, “And even then you might have to drag me inside.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s just a house. Just because an entire family was gutted inside doesn’t mean it’s haunted,” Ricker rolled his eyes.
“What are you waiting for, then?” Carmen raised an eyebrow at him and mocked him, “I mean since it’s not a big deal and all.”
Sensing a shifting movement on the road, I glanced down and followed a sheet of sand marching from the side of the road to gather at Phoebe’s feet. I met her gaze and smiled sympathetically. I knew from my own sand experience how comforting it could be.
“Yeah, man,” Ian stared at the house as if it could come alive at any moment, “That’s all you.”
“Ya’ll are pathetic.” Ricker shook his head and began to walk toward the house. Shaking out his arms and tilting his head back and forth like a boxer readying for a fight, he strode up the front steps with confidence, turned the knob and disappeared into the house. We held our breath as we waited for him to reappear.
“See?!” He popped back into the doorway with a triumphant smile shining on his face. “Ya’ll were getting all bent out of shape for no-“ Without warning, he was yanked from behind by an unknown force; leaving us with only silence and a dark empty doorway. Carmen started running first.
We all followed and made it to the open door at the same time. Without hesitation, we crossed the threshold and went into the dark house.
“Ricker!” Carmen screamed with obvious desperation and fear. Any apprehension I had about the house was wiped clean the second Ricker was attacked. Now adrenaline and determination were my only driving forces. The interior of the house melted together in a cacophony of dark shapes and shadowed doorways. The dust that had settled across its depths was at least three inches thick and quickly collecting in our lungs. I grounded my feet, centered my thoughts and concentrated on the open front door. All I had to do was think about a large gust of air circulating through the house and it came to fruition. I closed my eyes, focusing on the air and picturing it swirling through each room, over the walls, and around the corners; hoping to clear the dust.
“Remind me never to piss Stasia off,” Ian whispered and I heard Phoebe snicker.
As I opened my eyes, the wind receded. What it left was a dreary (although dirt-free) vacant shell of a house void of any color. The darkness of night had erased all ability to distinguish one room from the next as we searched for Ricker. We all had the same idea of turning on our cell phones to use as flashlights; careful not to step on any old, rickety boards that could end up hurtling us into oblivion.
“Ricker!” Carmen yelled again; panic-stricken. A light scraping sound from the corner brought our attention back to what I assumed was the library. We all whirled around gasping, as a figure stepped out from behind a curtain.
“Were you worried about me?” A crooked smile washed over his features.
“Ricker!” Never has one word held so many emotions. Relief, anger, happiness, and frustration were heavy in those two syllables. “What the hell are you doing!?”
“I figured it was the best way to get ya’ll in the house,” he said sheepishly. Tears rolled down Carmen’s cheeks as she walked up to Ricker and slapped him across the face.
“Scare me like that again and I’ll rip you apart piece by piece.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured adoringly with a grin before his eyes dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry Carm, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She stepped even closer and the second slap I was expecting was replaced by a hug.
“It’s a good thing you showed yourself. Stasia was conjuring up the elements to hunt you down,” Liam said to him with a smirk.
“Finn would be proud,” Ricker quipped with endearment before realizing what he had said. A sob began to build in my throat, but I pushed it down and frantically tried to think of something else to talk about.
“Did you see any ghosts while you were hiding?” I forced a grin. Relief washed across his eyes and he smiled back.
“Spiders the size of Volkswagens and one massive cobweb,” he chuckled. “Scariest moment of my life,” he glanced at Carmen and corrected himself, “Make that the second scariest.”
“Hey guys! Come look at what me and Ian found!”
Chapter 29
We gathered behind Phoebe in the dim hallway as she brushed her fingers over what looked to be a large, imposing oil painting in a gilded metal frame. As she worked, faces slowly began to emerge. A small girl. A boy. A beautiful woman dressed in a ruffled dress. She uncovered two more girls, another boy, and a handsome older gentlemen standing behind them all.
“The Drake Family…” Phoebe breathed in fascination.
“They look…stuffy,” Ricker commented; squinting his eyes.
“Way back then people didn’t smile for portraits or pictures. Think you could smile for an hour while somebody painted you?” Liam asked Ricker.
“Depends. Am I naked? I’d be smiling if I was naked.” Ricker inspected the painting further as Carmen punched him lightly in the stomach. “What?”
“Look at that little girl. She doesn’t look too good,” Ian said thoughtfully.
“She must have been one of the girls that died,” Phoebe surmised. The small girl was clearly emaciated; her clothes simply hanging on her slight frame.
“I can’t believe he killed his family,” I thought out loud as I examined Dr. Drake. He could have been any normal middle-aged father at the time, with dark hair that was slightly graying and a muscular build. A hint of pride evident in his features, he gallantly held his wife’s much more petite hand, which furthered my suspicion of the events that resulted in his family massacre. A resounding thump came from upstairs and we all stared wide eyed at each other, trying to decide if we should run or go investigate. My feet were leaning heavily towards running away from the house as fast as possible.