A New Fear (8 page)

Most of the enormous house had been destroyed. A fire, Nicholas decided. A big one. I bet people could see it all over town.

Nicholas tried to imagine the mansion as it once was. A vision popped into his head. The house freshly painted. The shutters open. Light pouring from the windows. The gardens and hedges well cared for.

Another roll of thunder sounded in the distance. I am going to get caught in the rain, Nicholas thought.

But he could not head back to town now.

This place calls to me, Nicholas thought. But why? For what purpose? For good … or evil? The hair on his arms stood up.

Nicholas climbed up the porch steps, the wood creaking beneath his feet. He hesitated, then slipped inside the charred remains of the huge house.

His mouth grew dry, and he swallowed hard as he put down his suitcase. I know this room. I know what it looked like before the fire. I know what I will find in every room of this mansion.

Had he seen the house in a dream? A nightmare? What was happening to him?

A dim gray light shone into the room. Nicholas looked up. The fire had burned a hole from the ground floor up through the roof of the mansion. Leaving only a burnt-out shell.

The smell of burning wood still filled the room. Did people die in the fire? he wondered.

“Fire,” he heard a voice whisper behind him. He spun around.

But no one stood there.

It is only the wind, he thought. A memory flashed through his mind. His mother saying those same words to him, comforting him. Only the wind.

The wind swirled around him.
“Fire. Fire. Fire.”

Nicholas forced himself to stand still and listen to the whispering voices. He could only understand a few of the words.

“Curse.”

He closed his eyes and listened harder.

“Fear.”

“Evil.”

Evil. Fear. Curse. Nicholas’s eyes snapped open. Were the voices trying to warn him? Was he in danger?

“Who are you?” he cried. “Who calls to me?”

The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. His eyes stung and itched.

“Answer me,” he pleaded.

The ragged drapes in front of one charred window
frame fluttered. Nicholas sucked his breath in with a hiss.

A large scorch mark covered the drapes. A scorch mark in the shape of a human body.

Nicholas edged closer to the drapes. The scorch mark grew darker. Thicker. It bulged out, straining away from the fabric.

Nicholas heard a tearing sound. The body is ripping through the drapes! he thought. It is coming for me!

Nicholas backed away, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. And the body disappeared.

He caught sight of a figure deep in the shadows in the far corner of the room. An old man in a wheelchair. Watching him.

“Who are you?” Nicholas demanded. “Why didn’t you let me know you were there?”

The old man did not answer.

Nicholas could not see the man’s expression. The shadows concealed everything but the shape of his body.

Nicholas rushed over. But the old man disappeared before Nicholas could reach him.

I have to get out of here, Nicholas thought. Now. Before I go mad.

He turned toward the front of the house.

The dark shape of a woman appeared there. Blocking his exit. He noticed the silhouette of a knife held high in the woman’s hand.

Go on, Nicholas ordered himself. She cannot hurt you. She is like the others. She will disappear.

Nicholas forced himself to cross the room, heading toward the woman.

He felt his legs trembling. He had seen and heard too much in this strange old house.

Almost there, Nicholas thought. All I have to do is step around the woman and I will be out of this cursed mansion.

Nicholas took a deep breath and strode forward.

Lightning flashed across the sky and glinted off the steel knife in the woman’s hand.

Steel!

The woman shrieked. She raised the knife higher, then thrust it down at Nicholas’s chest.

Chapter 16

N
icholas saw the steel of the knife shine as it slashed toward him.

He heard the material of his shirt rip.

He felt the sharp, cold edge of the knife against his skin.

Then Nicholas caught the woman’s wrist. He jerked her arm back before she could plunge the knife into him.

“You are dead, Daniel Fear!” the woman screamed. “You must stay dead!”

She raked the fingernails of her free hand across Nicholas’s face. He felt blood trickle down his cheek.

Cursing, Nicholas grabbed the woman’s other hand. He held both of her wrists tightly.

She shrieked, jerking back and forth, frantically trying to free herself. “You and your evil must stay dead!” she yelled again.

Thunder crashed. Raindrops began to fall through the open roof.

Nicholas fought to keep his grip as his hands slid across the woman’s wet skin.

A flash of lightning illuminated the woman. Her face was contorted with rage. Her eyes bulged. Her mouth stretched open in a long, high-pitched cry.

Nicholas squeezed the woman’s right wrist until the knife fell from her grip. It clattered to the floor.

He flung the woman away from him and snatched the knife from the floor. Breathing heavily, Nicholas backed up, ready to defend himself again.

The woman sank to the floor. She covered her face and began to cry. “Take me with you, Daniel Fear. Take me to the land of the dead. Take me to the place where you live as a ghost so I may again be with my love.”

Nicholas stared down at the weeping woman. She is mad. What is she raving about? Why is she here? The house is not fit to live in.

The woman began to shake. She curled her body into a ball, still hiding her face.

She is terrified of me, Nicholas realized. He slid the knife across the room and knelt beside the woman. “I am sorry I frightened you. I am not Daniel Fear. My name is Nicholas Storm.”

The woman snapped her head up, a wild look in her eyes. “Liar. I would know you anywhere. If you are not Daniel Fear, you are his ghost.”

“Where do you live?” Nicholas asked, careful to
keep his voice low. He did not want to alarm her again. “Let me take you home. You cannot stay out in this rain.”

“I live here,” the woman answered. She scrambled to her feet and motioned for Nicholas to follow her.

The woman scurried. She led him to a room Nicholas thought had once been the pantry.

Rows of shelves had survived the fire. They held a few pieces of clothing, an old rag doll, some dried flowers, and a little food. An old mattress and threadbare blanket filled one corner. Several candles gave the only light.

“Did the Fear family live here?” Nicholas asked. Perhaps the strange woman could give him some idea why he felt so drawn to the mansion.

“Of course they did. You know that, Daniel Fear,” the woman answered.

Nicholas did not bother to correct her. She could call him Daniel if that would help him get the information he needed.

“Your grandparents lived here,” the woman continued. “Simon and Angelica Fear. They died here, too. Just like you. Everyone died, and they must stay dead. Even you must stay dead. And my love. My Charles.”

“Who is Charles?” Nicholas asked. He had to keep her talking.

The woman reached out and squeezed his hand. “Charles. Remember, he used to help out when your
grandparents gave parties. He was my fiance. He died here the night of the fire.”

“Were you here that night?”

“No,” she answered, her voice cracking. “I planned to help out in the kitchen, but I got sick that night. I had to stay home.”

“Do you know what happened that night?” Nicholas asked.

She shook her head and squeezed his hand tighter. “I heard the fire bells and I could see the fire from the boardinghouse. I ran here as fast as I could, but I was too late. Only Nora Goode survived. Pretty Nora. They say she married you.”

Nora? His mother’s name was Nora.

Nicholas felt his heartbeat quicken. Was he finally going to learn the truth about his family after all these years?

“What did Nora look like?” Nicholas questioned. He held his breath—waiting for her answer.

“Shame on you. Not remembering what your own wife looked like. She had long brown hair and the prettiest green eyes. She had a sweet smile, I remember.”

Yes, Nicholas thought. Brown hair and green eyes—like my mother. My mother was Nora Goode.

Nicholas’s brain whirled with thoughts. So my father must have been Daniel Fear. That is why this poor woman thought I had returned from the dead. My father and I look so much alike she confused us.

It was my father I saw in my vision that night in
Shadow Cove, Nicholas realized. Not myself—my father!

At last! At last he knew his father’s name. And his mother’s true name. He knew his parents were Nora Goode and Daniel Fear.

“Thank you for talking to me,” Nicholas said. He hesitated. “Don’t you have any other place to live?” he asked quietly.

“This is the place for me. Near my Charles. Sometimes I see him. He visits me sometimes.” The woman nodded emphatically. “Yes, he does. But not for long. He has to stay dead and so do you.”

Nicholas pulled a few dollars out of his pocket and handed them to her. He needed the money—but she needed it more. “Maybe I can visit again.”

The woman did not release his hand. “Please take me with you. I want to live with the dead. I want to live with my Charles.”

“I am sorry, but I cannot,” Nicholas told her. He gently pulled his hand free.

I know who I am, he thought as he walked back through the mansion. I know who I am.

My family lived here at one time. My father and mother spent time in this house. And my great-grandparents! Great-grandparents. Nicholas could hardly believe it.

Nicholas passed under the huge hole burned through the ceiling. He relished the feel of the rain pelting down on him. The rain washing away who he had once been. Washing away Nicholas Storm.

Lightning flashed. “I know who I am at last!” Nicholas cried over the booming thunder. “I am Daniel Fear’s son.”

He clenched his fists. “I am Nora Goode’s son!”

He threw his head back.

“I am a Fear!” he shouted. “Nicholas Fear!”

Chapter 17

N
icholas Fear. He repeated the name to himself as he ran back down Fear Street, suitcase in hand.

Fear Street. A street named after
his
family. Even Rosalyn’s father did not have a street named after him.

The rain pelted Nicholas, drenching him to the bone. But he did not care.

This is the place I will make my fortune, he thought. I know it.
Know
it.

The land I am running on belongs to me. My legacy from my father. I will build a house here. Bigger than any house in town.

Nicholas grinned when he reached the Fear Street sign. He rounded the corner and raced down the street lined with small houses. Lights glowed in the windows. He could see one family having their supper together.

He turned onto the main street. It stood almost deserted, the shops closed.

Nicholas caught sight of a man scurrying along the muddy sidewalk. He asked for directions to a boardinghouse before the man rushed past him.

Nicholas continued to imagine what his new life would be like as he headed to the boardinghouse. He would definitely buy an automobile, he decided, remembering the Runabout he had seen by the bank. He and Rosalyn would take a drive every Sunday.

And he would buy Rosalyn as many dresses as she wanted. She would be the most beautiful woman in town. Everyone would recognize them as they motored by. There go the Fears, they would whisper. The richest family in town.

Nicholas spotted the big blue house the man had described. He dashed up the steps, but hesitated to knock on the door.

I certainly do not look like the richest man in town today, Nicholas thought. He was soaked. His shirt had a tear in it, and his small suitcase appeared shabbier than ever. He wondered if the landlady would even give him a room.

The door squeaked as a teenage girl threw it open. A bright yellow ribbon held her blond hair behind her head. A few brown freckles dotted her nose. Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled up at him.