The Haunted

used as a pillow. He knew where he was and what had happened, was not groggy at all, although his back, neck, side and shoulders all hurt, and immediately upon wakening, he got in the van and drove to Claire’s parents’ house. Her dad, Roger, answered the door, greeting him with a frown, but over the old man’s shoulder, Julian saw Claire, Megan and James eating breakfast in the kitchen, and with only the most perfunctory of greetings, he pushed his way past Roger into the house and hurried over to his family, filled with gratitude that they were all here and all right.

James looked up as he entered, and the expression of joy and relief on his son’s face—joy that he was here, relief that nothing had happened to him—made Julian rush over and give his son a big hug. The strong hug he was given in return almost made him feel like crying. “I love you,” Julian said.

“I love you, too,” James said instantly.

It was something they had always said to each other, but its usage had fallen off in the past year, and Julian vowed to himself that he would never stop saying it to his son.

Or his daughter.

He let go of James and grabbed Megan, holding her close. “Love you,” he said.

“Love you, too, Dad.” Megan was crying, and he pulled back and used his index finger to wipe the tears from her cheeks, the way he’d done since she was a baby.

Claire was looking at him over Megan’s shoulder, and her eyes were tearing up as well. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “You were right,” he said. “I’m not staying there anymore, either. We’ll sell the house, take the loss if we have to, and find someplace else to live.”

“Hold on a sec. Did I hear what I think I heard?” Claire’s dad stood in the kitchen doorway, glaring at him disapprovingly. “Are you actually going to sell your house because you think it’s haunted?”

Julian faced him. “Yes,” he said calmly.

“Well, I’ll be—”

“Dad,” Claire warned.

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“You read the article in the paper. And I told you what else happened there.”

He waved her away, still glaring at Julian.

“Roger …” Claire’s mother said warningly.

Julian ignored them both. “I’ll work there in the daytime,” he told Claire. “Like a regular office. But I’ll sleep here at night. With you.”

“Why do you have to go there at all?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Megan chimed in.

“Because my computer and all my work’s there.”

“You have a laptop,” Claire said.

“I need all my stuff. I’m down to the wire and have to get this done. Afterward, I’ll quit.”

She looked at him. “The house is still manipulating you. You think you’re thinking for yourself, but you’re not.”

“I’m not being manipulated. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“You’re not thinking of keeping the house?”

“No,” he assured her. “Of course not.”

“Because it sounds like—”

“No. I told you. But it’s not the house that’s the problem. It’s what lives in the house.” He didn’t want to describe in front of her parents and the kids what had happened, so he took her arm and led her out of the kitchen, down the hall to the room in which she’d been sleeping. He closed the door. In the mirror above the dresser, he saw his reflection: he looked like a homeless man, his clothes wrinkled, his hair disheveled, his entire appearance one of unruliness and disarray. He looked like he’d spent the night on the front lawn.

He sat her down on the bed, took a deep breath. “I saw it,” he said. “I felt it. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but the thing that’s haunting our house is much bigger than a ghost. It’s made up of ghosts. It’s … it’s an entity of some kind that … that takes the people who died at our house or on our property and … and they become part of it. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s big, it’s old, it’s dangerous, it’s evil.”

She was nodding. “So those massacres, those suicides, those murders, all those men who died there over the years, they’re part of this.”

“Yes!” he said, relieved that she understood despite his stumbling description. “Exactly!”

She looked at him. “Is there any way to get rid of it? Exorcise it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so.”

Claire took a deep breath. “You are not going back there to work.” She fixed him with a face that brooked no disagreement.

He nodded. Thinking about what he’d been through, he realized that he didn’t want to go back to the house. Maybe she was right; maybe he had still been under the influence when he’d arrived. But he wasn’t any longer, and he readily agreed to do his work here at her parents’ house. “I still need my disks and files and CDs,” he told her. “But I’ll call Rick and have him go over with me this morning. The two of us should be able to get everything I need in a few minutes. Is there anything you need? You or the kids?”

“Not right now, but we will have to start moving our stuff out of there sometime soon,” she said.

“I’ll look around, see if there’s anything else I can bring with me.”

“No. Things are too … hot there right now. Just get your equipment and go. We’ll let things cool down for a few days, then decide what to do.”

Julian offered her a half smile. “We can’t stay at your parents’ forever.”

She smiled back. “Nor do we want to. But let’s just take it easy for a few days. Think about things. We shouldn’t make any rash decisions. You just get your Web site done. I’ll work my way through this district settlement; then we’ll figure out where to go.”

“I love you,” he said. He realized he hadn’t said it to her when he first came over.

“I love you, too,” she replied, and kissed him on the nose. “But let’s get out there now and rescue the kids from my dad.”

Julian took a shower, then had breakfast. Claire went to work shortly after eight, and as soon as she was gone, he gave Rick a call. The print shop didn’t open until ten, which gave them plenty of time, and Rick promised to meet him there in fifteen minutes.

“Can I go?” James asked as soon as he hung up the phone.

Julian put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.” He heard Roger’s snort of derision from the couch and chose to ignore it. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back pretty quickly.”

It was quick. Rick must have been able to tell that he wasn’t really needed, as there was no heavy lifting and everything they took out of the house could have been just as easily carried by one person, but he had seen the ghost that night of the party and had no doubt read between the lines and figured out that something else had gone down. He didn’t ask any questions, though, and for that Julian was grateful.

“I’ll explain it all later,” Julian promised when they were finished.

Rick nodded, looked down the street, then over at the house. “Whatever it is, I think you made the right decision,” he said.

Julian spent the rest of the morning setting up his equipment in the room he’d be sharing with Claire, using her mother’s sewing machine table as a desk. He spent the afternoon working, trying to ignore all the distracting intrusions, taking occasional breaks to hang out with the kids. To thank her parents for their hospitality, he took everyone out to Fazio’s for dinner, and afterward all six of them sat in the living room watching television until, one by one, they drifted away.

The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with his father-in-law, but it was nine o’clock and the kids were in bed, Claire was in the bathroom taking a shower, and Claire’s mother went into the kitchen. Julian pretended to be concentrating on the procedural crime show that was on TV, but Roger leaned forward, blocking his view. “You pathetic fruit fly,” he said disgustedly. “I always knew you weren’t a man, but now you’re afraid of your own house? Because you think it’s haunted? What are you, three?”