The Haunting of Blackwood House (18 page)

Mara kept her footsteps light as she moved through the foyer and the living room and into the library. She didn’t know how important sage was to the ritual Erica had cooked up, but if it could offer even a little protection, she wanted to grow a garden of it. Or at least learn what it looked like.

I never expected
this
to be one of the downsides to kitchen ignorance. I bet Neil would recognise sage. Damn it—put him out of your head, Mara. Get through tonight so you have the chance to apologise tomorrow.

The three candles still burning on the table cast flickering shadows about the room. The rocking chair began groaning again, but Mara ignored it as she sifted through the trinkets. Half-hidden under a cat skull was a bunch of small, soft leaves. Mara raised the herb to her nose and inhaled.
This better be the sage.

She pushed the bunch into her pocket and turned to run through the living room but snapped back when she reached the doorway. The rocking chair, groaning softly on its struts, was occupied. The large, red-haired woman faced the window as she kicked her toes against the floor.

Crap, crap, crap.
Mara’s stress spiked. She knew she was supposed to stay calm, but her heart felt as though it was trying to leap out of her throat as she pressed her back to the wall.
This is fine. You’ve got sage, remember? And—and that’s probably useful—somehow—

The woman didn’t seem to be aware of having company. She was faced away from Mara, hiding her expression, but the pose was relaxed and the rocking gentle. She wasn’t completely solid but made up of the same swirling mist as the spirit in the attic. Mara began to slink around the edge of the room.

Faint snatches of the foreign lullaby floated through the air, but it seemed somehow wrong, as though the woman was no longer able to hit all of the notes.

Mara was nearly at the foyer’s doorway when she hit a creaky floorboard. She flinched, clenching her teeth, as the wood groaned.

The woman’s feet fell still, stopping the rocking chair’s motion. She turned slowly, and Mara pressed a hand over her mouth to smother her cry.

It hadn’t been immediately noticeable behind the thick hair and dress, but the woman was severely decayed. Clumps of translucent flesh had sunk around her eye sockets and sloughed free of her cheeks. She seemed to be grinning, but it was hard to tell without any lips to frame the teeth.

Mara squeezed her eyes closed and stumbled backwards until her shoulder hit the corner of the doorway. When she opened her eyes again, the woman was gone. The rocking chair shifted, as though it had been recently vacated, then came to a halt.

Cold sweat built over Mara. She backed through the doorway, reluctant to take her eyes off the chair and prepared to run at the slightest sign of motion. Sickness rose in her stomach, but she swallowed it.

Two stories above, someone began pacing through the attic. The steps were too even and too familiar to belong to either of the mediums. “Damn it.”

Mara turned to run for the stairs, but before she could take a step, something dropped in front of her eyes and snagged around her throat, tugging her back. She grunted and tried to shake the object off, but it was heavy and scratched her skin. Her blood chilled as a deep, cracked voice whispered into her ear, “Surprise, sweetheart.”

The weight around her throat was suddenly much, much tighter as bony hands tugged against it. Mara struggled to pull free, clawing at what she now realised was a coarse rope, but it was already cinched. She opened her mouth to scream, but a sharp jolt pulled her towards the stairs and her feet left the ground.

No!
Her throat was forced closed. She kicked, but her legs only touched air.
Make noise! Call for help!
She opened her mouth, but the only thing that escaped was a stifled gurgle. She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. She stretched a hand out. Her fingers grazed the wall, but it was too far away to beat against.

A heavy, slow footstep reverberated behind her as Robert Kant circled his prey. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his icy hands brushing against her back as he toyed with her. “Why don’t you scream, sweetheart?” he purred.

Mara scrabbled at the rope, but it was too tight to get her fingers under it to reduce the pressure. Her lungs burnt. A high-pitched ringing echoed through her head, and darkness bled into the edges of her vision.

Do something! Think of something!

A voice seemed to be trying to break through the ringing sound, but she couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t see, and her fingers felt numb as they scratched at the rope with increasing sluggishness.

Then an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her. The pressure across her throat slackened enough for her to suck a thin gasp of oxygen into her starved lungs. The voice was speaking to her, but the words seemed garbled.

A blade pressed against her throat. Mara impulsively twitched back, but the knife didn’t cut her. Instead, it wormed between her skin and the rope and began sawing at the fibres.

“Hold still, Mara. Don’t struggle. I’ll have you out in a moment.”

I know that voice. I know these arms. He came back.

“Neil,” she croaked.

“Shh, shh, hang on—”

Her hands, too oxygen starved to hover around the rope any longer, dropped to his shoulders. She could feel the muscles, taut under his shirt, as he fought to hold her weight and cut the rope at the same time. Every rub of the blade against the noose increased the pressure around her throat, but there was just enough slack in the cord for Mara to breathe around it. Then the last strand broke with a quiet snap, and Mara tumbled forward.

She didn’t have the strength to raise her hands to brace herself against a fall, but it wasn’t needed. She came to a halt, wrapped in the thick, strong arms she loved so much. Neil’s calloused fingers massaged at her throat as he murmured, “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Air had never tasted so sweet. Mara forced her eyes open and found Neil hovering over her, his face sheet white and eyes wide with fear. She tried to smile but wasn’t entirely certain what expression her face made. “You came back.”

“Shh, don’t try to talk.”

His fingers trembled as they massaged her aching throat then moved higher to brush strands of hair out of her face. Mara tried to stroke his chest, but it turned into more of a weak pat. “Why’d you come back?”

He shook his head, but his eyes never left her face. “I know—you don’t want me here—you can yell at me as much as you want later, I promise—just relax—”

“Don’t you dare leave me ever again.” Mara’s face cracked into a wonky grin. The relief and gratitude and fear boiled together, and before she realised what was happening, she was crying. She couldn’t stop it; the tears came hot and fast, and all she could do was clutch Neil and hope he didn’t think she was completely deranged.

The arm behind her head and shoulders raised her a little and pulled her close. His other hand alternated between rubbing her back and wiping tears off her cheeks when he could reach them. “It’s okay,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“We can hire that priest you wanted,” Mara managed between gulps and hiccups. “We can hire the whole Vatican. Install the pope in the spare bedroom.”

Neil’s body shook as he laughed. His hands were all over her—in her hair, stroking her cheeks, and caressing her arms. “Mara, Mara, Mara,” was all he seemed able to manage. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Mara wiped the wetness off her cheeks. “I’m a billion times more sorry than you could ever hope to be, so don’t even try to compete. I was horrible to you.”

“I went behind your back. I broke your trust. You had every right to be angry.”

“Yeah, but you were right.” Her lungs still ached, but the dizziness had faded, and her energy was coming back. Neil didn’t seem to want to let her go, though, and Mara was more than happy to stay pressed close to him. “Oh my gosh; I was such an idiot.”

Neil tilted his head to see her expression. He looked cautious. Mara cursed herself for making him feel the need to be wary around her.

“Yes, don’t worry; I’m not being stupid anymore. I called the mediums back. They’re up in the attic right now.”

Neil’s face darkened as he glanced away. “They shouldn’t have left you down here alone.”

Mara followed his gaze towards the sawn rope still hanging from the bannister. She shuddered then ran her fingers over Neil’s cheek to bring his attention back to herself. “Hey, don’t be angry with them. I went to get some stupid herb they needed. It wasn’t like they threw me to the house or anything.”

“Regardless.” Neil’s arms tightened around her. “I almost lost you. Jeeze, Mara. If I hadn’t come back—”

He kissed her. It was a painfully sweet expression of so many emotions: fear, desire, remorse, relief, love. It sent thrills racing down Mara’s back. She wrapped her arms around him and tugged him closer despite her growing dizziness.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back. “You need to breathe. Here—”

“I’m fine,” Mara objected as Neil pushed her into a sitting position. She rubbed at her aching eyes, relieved that the tears had stopped. “Thanks, by the way. For coming back. Saving me. Not being a jerk about it. All of that.”

Neil chuckled. He shifted so that he could sit next to her with his arm at her back to keep her steady. “Are we okay?”

“I want us to be okay.”

“Me too.”

Mara leaned her head against his shoulder and rejoiced in his warmth and solidness. She knew they couldn’t stay there for long. The footsteps in the attic had ceased, which meant the ghost must have completed its fated march. Any moment, Damian and Erica would be coming downstairs to see why she hadn’t returned with the sage.

“Neil? Why’d you come back?”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re not the only one in this relationship who can be obnoxiously stubborn, you know.”

“Me, stubborn? Perish the thought.” She sought out his hand and squeezed it. “Truthfully, though. Why?”

“It was a couple of reasons. Partly because I hated the things I’d said to you. I didn’t mean them, and they’re not true.”

“About me being delusional and crazy? I think they were at least somewhat true at the time.”

Another kiss. “No, they weren’t. And that was the other reason I came back. I’d been incredibly angry. And I mean much, much angrier than I should have been even for an argument. I dunno—this probably sounds weird—but it was almost like the house was manipulating me.”

“No, it’s not weird at all.” Mara thought of all of the spontaneous, violent murders that had occurred within Blackwood’s walls—husband against wife, wife against husband—and was deeply grateful that Neil had had enough restraint to walk out of the room. Mara remembered beating her fists against his chest, desperate to hurt him, and wondered what she might have been capable of if she’d had access to a knife. The idea wasn’t pleasant. She pushed it out of her mind.

“But the main reason was I didn’t want us to end like that. Especially not with you still inside Blackwood. I was going to come back and see if I could convince you to let me stay the night. If not, I figured I could wait in my car at the head of the driveway in case you needed a getaway vehicle.”

“Seriously? I said some brutal stuff—none of which I stand behind, by the way. How could you come back after that? Are you sure you weren’t just planning to collect your laptop and leave again?”

Neil laughed. “I
do
want that back, by the way.”

As she glanced up at his profile, Mara was amazed at the change in his expression. He still looked pale, but he’d lost the tightness about his lips, and his smile was genuine. He seemed far more relaxed than he had during the previous two days.
I can’t believe I put him through that much stress.

Then she thought of someone else who had suffered from her poor decisions and felt her mouth turn dry.
Be honest with him. He deserves it
. “Can I tell you something personal?”

“Of course.”

She inhaled and held it for a beat. “I bumped into my parents today. I ran off before they could say anything.”

“Ah, Mara.” His arm tightened around her. “That’s why you came home early, huh? I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been horrible to them, Neil. And I’m starting to think they didn’t deserve it. I never told you, but I looked them up online a few months ago. I don’t even know why. I think I was hoping they’d been arrested or something. Well, they used to be prominent members in a bunch of spiritualism forums and on the council of a local association. But I discovered they’d resigned from all of them. I can’t find any trace of them communicating with other spiritualists since four months after I left home.”

“Do you think you prompted that?”

“I have no idea.” Mara’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Maybe they grew some sense. Or maybe they thought I’d come back if they weren’t affiliated with those groups. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t enough to make me forgive them for believing what they did while I was growing up. But now…” Mara waved a hand towards the house then let it flop back into her lap. “Were they very wrong?”