Nightcrawler Tales: Open House (2 page)

  
Isaiah whipped around but found he was still alone. His mind was playing tricks on him again, it seemed. Although, Isaiah was beginning to suspect the Taylor house had gotten in on the fun. His mind and its new friend were having a grand ol' time, too. After all, Isaiah had recognized the boy they'd put in the mirror for him.

  
Isaiah moved to leave, firing one last look into the mirror before stopping dead in his tracks. His son was still there, staring back at him through the mirror.

  
"Mom's early," Brian said in an even tone.

  
Isaiah couldn't push this image from his mind as he'd done with the others before. And it wasn't just the sight of his son that had him so frightened. It was his own reflection
–
or more appropriately, the lack of one
–
that scared him. When he turned to face the mirror again, his reflection hadn't moved to greet him. Instead, he felt like he was looking through a broken window
–
a window into another world, perhaps
–
where a strange version of himself was taking a knee beside his son.

  
"That woman," the man in the mirror snarled. "I swear. Did you let her in?"

  
"Isaiah? Brian? You guys home?"

  
Brian was about to answer the woman's voice, but the man in the mirror wrapped a hand over the boy's mouth before he could.

  
"I know we're early," she continued. "I hope it's not a big deal."

  
Isaiah watched as the man in the mirror tightened his grip. Brian's eyes bulged, surprised by the force his "daddy" was applying.

  
"No," Isaiah whispered, his gaze fixed on this other world. "What is this?"

  
Brian tried to push the hand away from his mouth, desperate to break free.

  
"We'll be right down," the man in the mirror said.

  
Brian batted with a balled fist, but the monster flung his small body to the floor and pinned him. He had much better leverage there and used his free hand to cover the boy's nose, all of his weight concentrated behind those large hands that covered Brian's cherub-like face.

  
"What is this?!" Isaiah screamed. He took his eyes from the mirror/window, seeing there was still no one in the room behind him. But when he turned again, he saw Brian's arms were flailing, his legs kicking. "Stop! Brian! Stop it!"

  
Isaiah threw himself at the broken mirror, pulling a piece of glass from the wall and throwing it to the floor. He began to sob as he pulled the puzzle apart, praying he would find entry into the world where his son needed saving. But he found nothing of the sort. There was nothing but a brick wall behind the mirror. With trembling hands, Isaiah collapsed, leaving just two pieces of the mirror in place on the wall.

  
"Please... what... stop this... make it stop..."

  
His sobs turned to gasps as he watched his son's body go through its final throes, one final kick as the last bit of life left his body in a rattle.

  
The man in the mirror came to his feet, studying his handiwork, not with pride, but with a killer's remorse. He was choking back tears, just moments from breaking down like his real life counterpart until he heard Brian's mom call from downstairs again.

  
"C'mon, guys. Are you up there?"

  
Isaiah wiped his tears, watching as his reflection picked up one of the glass shards he had pulled from the wall in the real world.

  
"Don't you touch her!"

  
But the man in the mirror couldn't hear Isaiah. Instead, he left the room, tucking the jagged piece of glass behind his back as he went.

  
Isaiah jumped to his feet and rushed through the door.

  
He came to an abrupt halt, eyes on the bedroom window. Outside, day had turned to night. The wind was howling; rain was coming down in sheets. But this mattered little to Isaiah. There was a body dangling from the maple tree outside, swaying back and forth with a noose tied around its neck just as he'd imagined a few moments before.

  
It was the man in the mirror.

  
It was
him
.

  
"No! Stop it! Stop!"

  
Repeating his plea again and again, there was madness in Isaiah's voice as he staggered down the hall. He took the stairs three at a time and nearly fell when he turned his ankle near the end.

  
Expecting resistance, Isaiah put his shoulder through the front door, nearly knocking it from its hinges as he exploded out of the Taylor house and into
–

  
A beautiful, blue-sky day.

  
The outside world hadn't changed, after all. It was just as he'd left it. Children were playing in a nearby yard. A lawnmower was coming to life in the distance. There was a large limb in the street like deadfall that had come to earth in a storm, but everything else was the same. An easy Sunday afternoon.

  
Sweating profusely, Isaiah collected himself, tucking the front of his shirt into his pants as he hurried through the yard toward his car in the driveway.

  
"Hey, buddy? You okay?"

  
Isaiah looked over and saw a neighbor man had stopped pulling groceries from his car's trunk to check on him.

  
Isaiah didn't answer. His thoughts were still with his son. Even if his experience in the Taylor house wasn't real, Isaiah needed to hear Brian's voice. He needed to know the little guy was okay.

  
But even in his current state, Isaiah understood he'd have to settle for a phone call. This was one of
her
days with Brian. Isaiah wouldn't be able to see him.

  
He looked over his shoulder and saw Andrew was standing on the porch with a single hand raised in a motionless wave. Isaiah didn't respond, instead climbing into his car and pulling away.

  
That woman
, he thought.
I have to fight for time with my son because of her. She runs away, and I get punished.

  
Isaiah hoped he'd get all of his time with Brian this week. He hoped his ex would show up on time and give him a chance to enjoy the full three hours he was allowed on Tuesday evenings.

  
He prayed she'd be fair this week. He needed time with Brian, this week especially. He prayed she'd be fair, and somewhere deep inside, in some dark place he didn't recognize, Isaiah dared her to be anything but.

  
He looked into his rearview mirror and watched the Taylor house disappear from sight. He didn't notice that his blue eyes had changed in color. They were dark and vacant now
–
solid black
–
eyes the color of midnight.

  
3. Sunday, 3:10 pm

Andrew watched from a living room window.

  
A car had stopped in the street, and an athletic young man was already out, dragging the large tree limb from the street to the shoulder.

  
A woman leaned her head through the passenger window. "You need any help?"

  
"I'm fine," he explained.

  
The man dusted his hands and got back in the car. But they didn't leave right away. There seemed to be a slight hesitation on their part. They'd spotted the sign in Andrew's yard. He was sure of it.

  
Andrew watched a few minutes longer as the couple sat talking then grinned as they pulled into the drive. The house had them.

  
She was first out of the car. Pregnant, she walked a few steps with a hand at the small of her back for support. He hurried around to help, but she was quick to shoo him away.

  
Andrew's grin widened. They were perfect.

  
He waited for them to climb the steps onto the porch then pulled the door open before either had a chance to knock.

  
"Here for the open house?" he asked.

  
"If that's okay. The sign says three, but
–
"

  
"It's fine," Andrew said, cutting her off. "I haven't had many lookers. I'm not going to slam the door in your face over a few lousy minutes."

  
"We'll be quick," she continued. "I promise."

  
Andrew shut the door behind them.

  
"I'm Danielle. This is my husband, Mike."

  
Andrew took Mike's hand, noted its firm grip, then watched as it moved back to Mike's side, instinctively taking Danielle's when it got there.

  
"We appreciate it," Mike said warmly. "We were hoping to give you guys a look."

  
You guys?
Andrew asked himself.
If only they knew.

  
"You have a lovely home," Danielle began, ready to make small talk as Mike looked the house over. Andrew watched Mike open the foyer closet
–
a closet that had already planted a few spoiled seeds in another homebuyer's mind.

  
Mike nudged Danielle. "Think there's enough room for all your furs?"

  
"You mean the one coat I own you keep promising to replace?" Danielle asked. "I think we'll manage." Smiling, she smacked him across the bottom as he walked by her and into the living room.

  
Andrew was happy to see the couple doing so well. Scott and Linda had cooled on the house immediately after coming through its door. Isaiah had begun walking a path toward madness shortly thereafter. Mike and Danielle, though
–
they seemed to be doing just fine.

  
"What are you asking?" Danielle asked.

  
"$159,000."

  
Already inspecting the windows, Mike looked back at his wife with surprise.

  
"I've got flyers in the kitchen," Andrew added. "Let me grab you one."

  
Andrew disappeared into the next room but listened to their quiet excitement through the wall. He was quite taken with the young couple. It was hard not to be. He'd bet everything he had
–
what little was left
–
that they were high school sweethearts. He had a knack for knowing little things like that. It was a useless talent, really. And he'd been wrong about the man who sold
him
the Taylor house.

  
And now you're going to do the same thing he did? Pawn this place off on someone else? Destroy their lives the way yours was destroyed?

  
He was lost in his thoughts when they came giggling into the kitchen. Andrew handed Mike the flyer then led them through the rest of the house. Danielle and Mike stole playful looks as they followed. Always flirting, these two.

  
It doesn't have to be this way, you fool. Warn them before it's too late. Do something right for a change. Find a little hope in the nightmare your life has become.

  
Andrew didn't say these things. Instead...

  
"You've got a loft upstairs, three bedrooms and two baths. I'll wait right here. Take your time, though. I don't have anywhere to go."

  
He watched them head upstairs, knowing that it always seemed to happen there. That's where Isaiah had had his experience. That's where Andrew's daughter had seen it for the first time. And, of course, it was upstairs where his family's three-week stay in the Taylor house had come to its bloody end.

  
Andrew braced himself, ready for anything, praying for the sanity he hoped escape would bring.

  
Upstairs, Mike and Danielle stood in the center of the empty master bedroom, both admiring the reading nook beneath the eaves.

  
"It's perfect," she said. "You
know
it is."

  
"Maybe," Mike began. "But we weren't going to start looking until next summer. You really want to buy the first place we look at on a whim?"

  
"Are we going to find a better deal?"

  
Mike shot her a smirk. It was the first moment between the two that was anything but sickening sweet. He knew what she was trying to do, subtly talking his language. He'd always looked at their first home as an investment, a college fund for the baby.

  
He walked over to the window. She went into the bath.

  
"Oh my god!" Danielle hurried back into the room, scooting across the floor to her husband's side. "You won't believe the tub. It's gorgeous."

  
Mike didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on something outside. He raised his chin, a small nod to point Danielle in the right direction. She followed his gaze and quickly found what had captured Mike's attention.

  
Something was curled up at the base of the large maple tree just outside the window. It moved as soon as Danielle spotted it, two dark eyes appearing from inside the large pile of fur.

  
"Aw!"

  
The fawn looked up at them.

  
"Baby?" Danielle whispered. "Does he see us?"

  
"I don't know."

  
It clumsily came to its feet, stumbling a few times before running for the woods that lined the Taylor property. It stopped near the tree line, looking up at them once more, black eyes gleaming in the afternoon light before it turned again, disappearing into the woods for good.

  
Danielle turned to her husband with a doe-eyed look that made him think of the fawn. Mike gave in with a slight nod, and Danielle signaled her excitement with a high pitched shriek.