House of Dark Shadows (19 page)

“How can that be?” David rubbed his chin where the camera had cracked it when he was on the rope bridge.

Xander pushed a few buttons. His voice came through the tiny speaker: “. . . might not want to burp or do anything too embarrassing . . .” He fast-forwarded, turning the voices into incomprehensible chipmunk-chatter. David remembered what he'd said after that: “Like scream?” Yeah, he'd done a bit of that, hadn't he? Xander got the video rolling at normal speed again: “. . . gonna get Dad and come after you.” A moment later: the rude hiss of static.

“As soon as you stepped through,” Xander said. He set the camcorder on the bench and unstrapped the compass from his wrist.

David rolled over. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his knees. “Achy,” he said. “All over.”

Xander nodded. “Take a shower. You'll feel better.” He tugged off one of the boots.

David grabbed hold of the bench, lifted himself onto it. He put his head back against the wall. “What you said? You know, finding the truth about that family?”

Xander had the other boot off and was positioning them neatly on the bench. He said, “Solve a mystery, win a prize.”

David said, “There's something else about that. If what you say really did happen to that family . . .” His stomach turned over on itself. “What's gonna stop it from happening to us?”

CHAPTER
thirty - five

SUNDAY, 1:14 A.M.

As Dad had done for him, Xander waited in the bathroom for David to shower. He tried being like Dad, saying comforting things and generally trying to get his brother's mind off of nearly being eaten—by beast
and
man, to hear David tell it. His brother did seem better equipped to leave his horrifying experiences in the past than Xander had been. Now that it was history, and he was alive, David didn't mind talking about it. Then again, David hadn't seen the mutilated bodies, a dead boy who was about his own age.

Twenty minutes later, Xander was sitting on his bed in the dark, listening to David ramble on about tigers and hunters and a centipede as thick as a hotdog and four times as long. David's words became slow, and he started having a hard time finishing sentences. Then, he was asleep. Xander climbed into his own bed, exhausted. He had crashed almost three hours ago only to get up again because of David's insatiable appetite for adventure. He hoped . . . he hoped
something
about David, but he was too tired to remember what it was. He fell asleep.

He jolted awake. Sirens in his ears. A noise from his dreams was his first thought, but then David was pushed up in bed, staring frighteningly at him. Smoke alarm? No, they had not installed them in this house yet. The clock on the nightstand between the beds said 2:21.

“Toria,” David said, throwing off his blankets.

Xander propelled himself out of bed, letting his sheets and covers find their own way off of his body. He leaped over the footboard and landed on his feet hard enough to rattle something on the dresser.

Toria screamed. It was long and piercing, broken only by her need to fill her lungs. Then, more screaming.

Xander bounded into the hall. A dark figure bolted at him from the other end. It raced by a night-light, and he saw it was Dad, with Mom right behind. Xander arrived at Toria's room first and rushed in. By the glow of her own nightlight—
Shrek'
s Princess Fiona in full ogre mode—he saw she was sitting up in bed, eyelids clamped tight, screaming for all she was worth. He skidded to a stop beside her bed. He wanted to grab her but was afraid to. He gripped her leg through the blankets. Xander would have thought it impossible, but her screams became louder, more piercing.

“Toria, it's me! Xander!” It didn't seem to matter.

Only then did he think to scan the room for an intruder. He squinted into the dark corners and at the closed closet door.

The overhead light snapped on, vaporizing the shadows and exposing not a hint of a boogeyman. Dad crashed into him. He plucked Toria out of her bed. Squeezing her to him, he said, “Honey, honey, what is it?” Then soothingly: “It's okay; it's okay.”

Xander wasn't sure it was, wasn't sure of anything. But it was a parent's job to say that. Hadn't Dad spoken those words to
him
only the night before? He wondered if David had been so tough earlier because Dad hadn't been there to quash a breakdown. Kind of a survival thing, conscious or not.

Mom was at Dad's side, brushing Toria's hair away from her face. She kept saying, “Sweetheart, what is it?” David stood in the doorway, his mouth a perfect
O
in the whiteness of his face.

“A-a-a . . .” Toria tried to speak.

Xander, kneeling by the bed, reached out to stroke Toria's hair. He half-expected his touch to ignite another fit of screaming. Instead, Toria leaned her head back into his hand, as if wanting to feel it more firmly. She stopped trying to speak and concentrated on catching her breath. Three sharp little inhales, a single long breath out. At last, she raised a finger in David's direction, said, “A m-m-man . . . there was . . . there was a man in my d-d-doorway.”

David stiffened, glanced over his shoulder, then hurried into the room.

Mom said, “A man, honey? What do you mean?”

Xander caught David staring at him. His eyes were wide with fear.

“I heard a n-n-oise and woke up,” Toria said. “There was a man standing in my room, at the door.”

“What did he look like?” Dad asked.

“Big. He filled it up, the doorway.”

“What did he look like,” Dad repeated. “Did you see his face?”

Toria concentrated. She made a sour expression.

“It was
dark
,” she said apologetically.

“That's okay,” Dad said.

“I think . . . he was hairy. He had rags for pants.” She started to weep quietly.

Mom said, “Ed, call the police.”

“And say what, G? They'll say she had a nightmare. Maybe she did.”

Mom looked unsure.

“Daddy,” Toria said.

He squeezed Toria tighter. He said, “It's okay, sweetheart. We can talk about it later.”

She pushed back from him to see his face. “The man said something, Daddy.”

Xander felt the skin on his forearms and the back of his neck pull taught and tingle.

Mom said, “What did he say?”

Toria shook her head. “I didn't understand it. It was rum-ably, like thunder.” It frightened Xander simply to hear about it. He might have screamed too. Xander gave her hair a final stroke, then moved around their parents. He tapped David as he walked by. His brother followed him out of the room.

In the hall, Xander whispered, “The big figure we saw!”

David said, “You think it was the same person?”

“It'd better be. Do you want a bunch of those things roaming around?”

“Where did he come from? We checked the whole—”

Xander stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I think I know. Sort of. The
rooms
.”

David looked startled. “He's coming
from
one of those . . . those . . .
other worlds
?”

“Where else? That has to be it.”

The implications of that swirled in David's head. Xander could see it in his eyes.

David said, “Can anything from those worlds
come through
?”

“Are you thinking about the tigers?”

David's bottom lip trembled.

Xander said, “I don't know. So far, it seems to be that big guy we saw, the one who scared Toria tonight.”

David nodded. “The footprints.”

They both turned their attention down the hall to the base of Toria's doorway. The floors were too clean now to pick up traces of the big man's passing.

“What does he want?” David whispered.

Xander had no answer for him.

“What if
we
stirred him up?” David said.

“You mean . . . by going through?” Xander shook his head. “Mom found the footprints in the dining room
before
we found the doors upstairs.”

“But think about it. He never spoke before. He didn't
want
to be seen.” David squeezed his eyes tight. “I never should have gone through. I just thought—”

“Gone where?” Dad said, coming up behind them.

The boys jumped. Dad's face grew stern, his eyes flicked between his son's faces. “Did you visit those rooms again?”

Xander bowed his head.

David said, “Yes, sir. I just wanted—”

His dad interrupted. “I thought I made it clear. Stay away from them.” He shook his head. “I should have locked it up.” His eyes found the bandage on David's shoulder. “That happen tonight?”

David nodded. “It was an arrow. I went—”

“Tell me tomorrow.” Dad closed his eyes, then opened them slowly. He seemed tired and worried.

Probably a little more than disappointed in his boys
, Xander thought. He said, “How's Toria?”

“She'll be okay. I'm gonna sleep in her room. She
could
sleep with us, but if we decide to stay in this house—”

“
If?
” David asked, sounding a little panicked.

Dad glared at him. “David, this is serious. But if we decide to stay—and that's a big
if
—I don't want her afraid of her own room. I almost have her convinced it was a dream.”

They all knew better. Silence fell over them. Then Xander said, “Dad, let me do it, stay in Toria's room.”

Dad shook his head. “No, I . . .”

“Then you can stay with Mom. I want to, really.” He shrugged. “Least I can do.”

“What about me?” David asked.

Xander said, “You can help with something else.”

“I mean, I don't want to be alone. In our room. In the dark.” Xander gave him a little push. “What happened to Mr. Tough Guy?”

“He's going to sleep in Toria's room too,” David said. “Double protection.”

Xander said, “For you or her?”

“Ha ha.”

Dad said, “Xander, are you sure?”

“I can do it.”

“Me too,” said David.

“Okay,” Dad said. “Just till we figure out what we're gonna do.” He nodded over their shoulders, toward their bedroom.

“Go get your stuff. I'll tell the girls what's going on.” He turned around, then back to his boys and raised his eyebrows at them.

“And remember, those rooms upstairs are off-limits.”

They nodded like twin bobbleheads.

CHAPTER
thirty - six

SUNDAY, 2:57 A.M.

David had talked Toria into letting him sleep with her in her bed. Xander knew it had nothing to do with providing better protection for her, as David had said. He just hated sleeping on the floor.

Xander didn't mind it. He had his pillow and his blankets. The area rug beside Toria's bed took the edge off the wood floor's hardness and chilliness. He lay there now, considering the pattern of shadows the trees in the moonlight cast on Toria's ceiling. So different from the ones in his and David's room. For one thing, they were much less distinct, washed out by Toria's night-light.

Again, he thought about
The Shining
, how the house had made Jack Nicholson go crazy. What if it could happen to a whole family? What if none of this was real and they were all going crazy? Seeing things, hearing things,
experiencing
things. With Toria seeing the man—
claiming
to see the man —it was like each member of the family was slowly getting pulled in.

Xander didn't like this train of thought. It was his exhaustion talking. He made his mind think of something else.

David and Toria had fallen asleep quickly. The rhythm of their breathing was not quite in sync with each other. Toria's was a little faster and a lot quieter. Together, they sounded like distant waves breaking against a beach. Xander listened, thinking of that beach. His eyelids grew heavy. He rolled over to his left side. He adjusted his shoulder, trying to find a comfortable position. Across the room, illuminated by the Princess Fiona light, Wuzzy stared at him.

Stupid bear.

His eyes closed and he was back on the beach. He could almost feel wet sand squishing between his toes.

In the next second, he pushed himself up, fully awake.

The alarm in his head had been so loud he was surprised it hadn't woken David and Toria. But there they were, shoulder to shoulder, the blankets over their chests rising and falling, almost in unison.

Wuzzy
, he thought.

He stepped quietly to the bear and picked it up. Then, to the open doorway. He leaned through and peered down the hall.

Dad was there, at the junction of the two hallways. Sitting on boxes, leaning back against the wall. He was fewer than fifteen feet from the master bedroom door. Mom was probably asleep inside. Twenty feet down the other hall was the false wall, beyond which the big man presumably dwelt. Dad clutched an aluminum bat in both hands. The business end rested against his shoulder. He spotted Xander and nodded.

“Bathroom,” Xander whispered. He wasn't sure Dad heard him way down there, but his father nodded as though he had. Holding the bear, Xander walked to the bathroom, turned on the light, shut and locked the door.

At the small of Wuzzy's back was a panel of controls at the small of his back. The On/Off switch was in the On position. Xander had suspected it would be, since it seemed to capture everything the family said. Toria would play back the funniest, most embarrassing, or most irritating sound bites. The bear stored half a dozen snippets at a time. Each could be up to several minutes long, Xander thought. He did know it was sound-activated and would fill its memory chips in sequence: first, memory chip number one, then two, and so on. After number six, it returned to memory chip number one. It would replace what was on that chip with a new sound. A pressure-sensitive switch in Wuzzy's right paw caused it to play back the most recent recordings. That's how Toria had driven him crazy on the trip from Pasadena to Pinedale. Now, Xander changed Wuzzy's setting from Record to Playback.