“Come on out. You still have time to get out of here before the police come,” she said.
The closet doorknob turned until the latch clicked. The hinges groaned as it slowly opened an inch.
Amber frowned when it didn’t swing the rest of the way.
“Come on, Shawn,” she said.
Another noise made her spin. She turned just in time to see the door to the hall gather speed and then slam shut. Her hand tightened so much on the can of wasp spray that a tiny bit squirted out on the freshly cleaned floor. Amber backed away from both doors to keep the two of them in sight.
When the phone buzzed in her hand, she nearly threw it. The display lit up to tell her that Ricky was calling. She thumbed the button and his voice came through.
“Amber? Are you there?”
“There’s something in the house, Ricky,” she whispered. “Two things. Two. One in the closet, one in the hall.”
“Lights?” he asked.
“All on.”
“Tapping?”
“None.”
“Okay. It’s not them. Hang up and call the police. Stay in the light, just in case. Once you connect to the dispatcher, don’t hang up.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I’m hanging up,” he said. “You call, okay?”
Instead of answering, she disconnected.
The door to the closet began to swing open. Amber moved her hand to point the can of wasp spray at whatever might come out of there. She held her breath with every muscle in her body tensed.
There was nothing in there.
Amber blinked and lowered herself a little so could see up into the space above the shelf. The brand new light bulbs from the fixture over her head cast plenty of light in there. There were barely any shadows to speak of. Amber kept her distance until she worked her way to the wall and the closet light switch. Her hand darted out to flip it up and the darkest corners of the closet were illuminated.
There were no monsters and no sign of Shawn.
That eliminated both the possibilities of…
“No,” Amber whispered as a new idea occurred to her.
# # #
Once it entered her head, the thought consumed Amber.
It had taken years, but the demon had finally caught up with her. She had thought that the thing was gone—either burned up with her mother in the car or plowed under with the house—but it was clearly back. The demon had somehow infested Evelyn’s house now.
Beyond the door to the hall, Amber heard the sound of rolling wheels. At first, she didn’t know what to make of it. Then, she remembered the bucket in the laundry room. It was blue plastic and it was mounted on little wheels so it could be rolled around to act as a mop bucket.
“What do you want from me?” Amber called. The door to the hallway clicked and then began to swing inwards. Still holding the wasp spray out in front of herself. Amber inched towards the door as she considered her options. She barely registered the closet door swinging shut again behind her. With her foot, she swept the door to the hall open the rest of the way in time to see the mop bucket roll by.
The ramifications began to dawn on her all at once. The demon hadn’t been attached to her mother, and it probably had never really been attached the house either. It was her—the demon was attached to her. Maybe she had lost it for a while when she moved, but it had come back to her and she thought maybe she knew why. Talking about it—telling the story to Ricky—had breathed power back into it.
“You have to tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader.”
She glanced down and saw that the cleaning supplies had been knocked over. The mop bucket had come to rest at the threshold of the living room.
“You want me to clean? You don’t want me to clean? What are we doing here?” she asked, turning her head up slightly to direct her questions at the ceiling. Meanwhile, she was running through her other options. It had taken years to catch up with her less than a hundred miles away. If she moved farther, maybe it would take decades to find her. But that would mean spending the rest of her life on the run. There had to be a way to get rid of the thing once and for all. Now that she knew it was attached to her, perhaps she could leverage that information into some kind of power.
Amber spun left when she heard a knock on the door.
“Is that you?” she asked the ceiling.
Shawn’s voice came through the door. “Amber?”
She was still creeping towards the front door when she heard that latch click and the door began to swing inwards. The porch light flipped on and Amber saw that Shawn was standing out there with his hands at his sides. He hadn’t opened it the door, and he didn’t seem to realize that Amber hadn’t either. He was focused on the can in her hands.
“Hey, don’t shoot,” he said, putting up his hands and chuckling nervously.
“What do you want, Shawn? I’m a little busy.”
She was still low in her stance, ready for combat.
“I was driving home and I saw all the lights on. I thought maybe something was wrong or whatever.”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, wait, you’re still on your third shift schedule, I bet.”
“Shawn, this isn’t a good time.”
His eyes shifted and he leaned a little closer and whispered, “Is someone here? Are you okay?”
Amber’s phone buzzed again. She glanced down and saw a message from Ricky. “Are you okay?” It was like he was repeating what Shawn had just asked.
Shawn took the confusion on her face as an invitation. He pulled open the screen door and started to slip inside.
“Shawn, no!” Amber said.
The front door began to slam, gathering speed as it closed.
