Scream comes again—piercing, haunting.
So close to Ruby—where I’ve wanted to be for so long. So worried she had been hurt—now she’s here where I could throw my arms around her and keep her safe or die trying, and I have to run again. Her eyes sparkle like jade, even in the darkness.
Kiss her lips quickly and rush to the stairs.
The front door has been kicked in completely—someone came through after me. Look at the ground—Edgar’s body’s gone too. There’s at least two of them in here—they have to be what’s causing the screaming upstairs.
Hope Ambrosia’s okay by the time I get there. Hope Ruby gets out that back door.
Body’s recovering—taking the steps three at a time. Joints crack and muscles are sore, but the shocks through my spine are weakening.
Don’t know where Ambrosia is in all of these dark hallways, but I’d bet she’s on the third floor with the others—exactly the most dangerous place for her to be, and the furthest place in the house from Ruby. And, all that depends on if Edgar was telling the truth about what’s on the top floor. Either way, it’s a safe bet that Ambrosia’s near the chaos, and the chaos is up there somewhere.
A different female groan-wail comes from above—definitely the third floor. Not Ambrosia’s voice—a little deeper, a little too raspy.
Reach the edge of the second floor. Make a 180 turn, immediately heading up to the third—going after the last scream. Hope Ambrosia’s there too.
The darkness feels much colder—chilling, since Simon disappeared into it. Before we found each other in this lethal, dim hole of a house, my eyes had just started to adjust to the dark horrors, growing used to rushing through it to the back door, waving my hands in front of me to find objects I couldn’t see.
Then I caught a glimpse of him before me—touching him—arms around him—quick kiss in the lightless hallway. For a moment, the pitch dark posed no threat—I was happy in the middle of this hell as long as he was near me, making the darkness around our entwined bodies seem so harmless. He was here, and everything was changed. The shadows were suddenly weakened by having something so wonderful in them.
I know it was a kiss goodbye in case he didn’t make it back to me. That’s what freezes through me now— stinging cold.
With him gone—even his footsteps on the stairs have faded—the blackness looks so thick—so dense—mind racing to fill every inch of it with images that terrify me. The red-bearded one who grabbed me just moments ago dropping down on me from a chandelier as he did to Simon, Carvelli awakened and after me, attacking from the front, Quint grabbing me by my throat from behind, and Roderick’s evil smile—angry fangs exposed and flying toward my neck. Even Maxine’s sharp fingernails slicing through the air and tearing into my face. I know she helped me—I know I owe her, but her image is still scary in the shadows.
All of the images stay fresh on my mind—keeping my skin feeling prickly—heart pounding like a sledgehammer in my ears.
God, I hope Simon comes down those stairs safely with Ambrosia. I sent him after her—couldn’t live with myself if something terrible happens to him—couldn’t live with myself if we ran out and left Ambrosia to die either —Simon didn’t know it was her—didn’t recognize her voice—it was all up to me…can’t wait to get out of this awful place.
Want to be up there with him now—my eyes on his every move to see that he’s alright—to know he’s alive before every breath I take. Don’t know what help I’d be—I’d do whatever I could. But, he told me to get out of here and get to the car. Last time I didn’t listen to him they kidnapped me at the bottom of the stairs at the bar and drugged and beat Simon. That’s what’s gotten us into this mess and into this awful house. Better do what he says —just hate not trying to help keep him safe.
Something squeaky and furry rushes past my right ankle. My whole body jumps. Rat—running from the fire. Its feet patter down the hallway ahead of me. Wonder how many more of them are coming.
Fire rages on the porch—its flickering the only violation of the darkness, casting its glow into the building behind me through the windows and the hole in the door. Too bad it’s not lighting up the side of the house where I’m headed. As it grows—ravaging the front of the building, the rats may not be the only creatures fleeing this burning nightmare.
Eyes strain to see what sharp, menacing creatures might be coming toward me.
Knees smack something unseen. Body flops forward—crashing into the unknown. Feet lift off the ground. Hands reach out in front of me. Fingers slide into grimy fabric—stirring up stale dust—face following behind, breathing in its stagnant odor.
A sofa. I’ve crashed onto a short, grimy, velvet couch—the dust on it like a layer of slime.
I was just taken out by old fabric stretched over moldy cushions on a thin wooden frame—landed on my face and hands—and it nearly gave me a heart attack. How in the hell am I going to get out of here—past the things with fangs and cruel hearts?
Push my body off the couch and get back on my feet.
Speaking of cruel hearts, my mind flashes to Maxine in the woods, enraged and charging at me—nails reaching out to slice into my head. Why would she help me now? The only time she wasn’t entirely brutal to me was right after she cut my hand to save Simon. It was all about Simon—not me. Why would she care about me now?
Maybe she had a reason to get me out of that room. Too hard to kill me in there. Two guards at the door—she did take them out, but she wasn’t safe from anyone else who could’ve come in the room—Roderick coming in to torment me, Simon coming in to save me. Either one wanted me alive—Simon forever, Roderick just long enough to snare Simon and get his hands on Ambrosia.
Maybe she just wanted me out in the open darkness where no one would be looking for me. Get me away from the action where she could let me wander down these creepy hallways, toying with me in a dark game—taunting an uppity, little, human girl who took her man from her.
She helped me—I know she helped me, but it looked like she could’ve killed me in the woods if she hadn’t promised Simon. She hasn’t promised tonight, and if she kills me in the lightless hallways, no one’ll know it was her. Simon’d think it was Roderick.
If Maxine broke into my room just to kill me, Simon’d know it wasn’t Roderick. He’d know it was someone else—Roderick doesn’t need to break into rooms in his own house—no one’s going to stop him from killing his own prisoner.
Maxine didn’t kill Quint or Carvelli—just knocked them out. She had to know they’d wake up and eventually figure out it was her in the room and not me. Why would she leave them alive? They’ll know she had to be the one who knocked them out. Maybe she wanted them to wake up—that she’d be long gone herself by then. Have them not know what happened to them—just that I was gone. Leave no signs that she set me free—they’d think it was Simon.
Maybe she just wanted to get me out here in the open to kill me in the shadows of the hallway—where no one can see, no one can hear me scream, and no one can save me now.
She’s everywhere in my thoughts—behind me—at my sides—popping up out of the darkness in front of me, the black air swirling, gathering, and forming her body like a specter out of a fog.
Tiny scampering ahead of me in the hallway—sounds like more fleeing rats. Suddenly, they don’t seem so eerie.
The darkness appears more solid ahead of me. Wall. Quicken my pace toward it. Finally an end to this long hallway. Strain my eyes searching for the door.
Blue eyes break through the darkness right in front of me, as if suddenly awakened, and pierce their way through the black air like midnight suns rising and birthing a wicked nocturnal dawn. Either I’ve lost my mind or a female vamp is reaching out to grab me.
Too short to be Maxine—still little taller than me. Hair even blacker than the darkness. Eyes like Simon’s blue pools if they were drained of all that shimmers and shot full of murky, swamp-like, unholy pollution.
She cocks her shoulder up and out—pointing it at me like a weapon, her chin aimed the same way to the tip of her shoulder, and she wrinkles her nose before opening her mouth. Her voice slithers through the dark air, smooth like Maxine’s but softer and more menacing, “Lost in the shadows, love?”
Heart races erratically—mind full of fear and shock—terrified for Simon. Don’t know if I’ve lost my mind or am about to die.
