The Mansion (7 page)

The laughter grew louder, and more and more
voices joined in: chatter and then laughter, chatter and
laughter.

‘What do you want?’ Michael shouted. He could
no longer take any more; his mind was overcome by fear and panic.
He began to cry uncontrollably. Jeremy moved over to him and put a
hand on Michael’s shoulder. He could feel his friend flinch the
moment his hand touched him.

‘What do you want? Where are they?’ he
shouted again, through snot and tear-filled lips.

The laughter and chatter died. In that
moment, all was silent, causing all three of the men to look at
each other nervously. They could feel the tension in the air
building. There was a sound like someone drawing in a breath, and
then the answer came, with multiple voices responding in
unison.

‘We want you to stay, join us. Yes, join
us.’

At the same time that the voices answered, a
strong blast of air engulfed the room. The bed sheet blew off the
bed, momentarily covering Michael and Jeremy. In his hysterical and
panic-stricken frame of mind, Michael began thrusting his arms out,
trying to get the sheet off his head. He was so focused on removing
the sheet he didn’t feel his hand collide with a heavy object.

Jeremy began pulling at the sheet. Just as it
slid from his head, he was hit hard in the mouth and then in the
nose by the flailing Michael. He fell backwards, falling like a
felled tree, and the back of his head bounced off the wooden floor
with a loud thud.

Tony moved quickly over to Jeremy, crouching
next to him and lifting his head, calling his name. He could feel
dampness on one of his hands; he removed it and saw it was covered
in blood.

Michael began shouting and screaming for the
voices to stop. Tony looked up and saw his friend spinning around.
His hands covered his ears as he shouted at the invisible force and
the voices. He finally stopped and ran towards the door. Just as he
reached it, it began to close. Initially it was slow, but as he
closed in, it picked up speed.

He looked at the broken electrical charge
detector that was placed against the door frame and smiled to
himself internally. The door slammed against the obstruction and
began retreating a few inches before once again slamming into it.
Michael reached the door and grabbed at it. He pulled with every
last ounce of strength, trying to open it far enough for him to
escape the room. The invisible force that continued to slam the
door eased enough for Michael to open it and squeeze through.

He made it into the hallway, his right hand
gripping the door frame to help steady himself while he fought to
pass through the small gap. The door swung open and then smashed
against the obstruction at the foot of the frame. What was left of
the machine shattered, and the door slammed into its correct
position.

Tony watched with horror as he saw his
friend’s fingers fall to the floor on his side of the door and
heard a blood curdling scream from outside. Then the voices began
laughing once more.

Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. The blurred
vision that greeted him was of his friend and group leader, Tony.
The sudden throbbing feeling from the back of his head forced him
to close his eyes again and reach back to where he felt a hand.
When he opened his eyes again and brought his hand into view, he
could see the crimson liquid that had escaped the large gash on the
back of his head.

‘Oh Jesus,’ he said.

‘Come on,’ Tony exclaimed, getting to his
feet and pulling his friend up with him. Bloody handprints covered
the light brown jumper that Jeremy wore from where Tony had pulled
at him; a larger, darker stain covered the neckline of the back of
the jumper.

The laughter continued, and more and more
voices joined in as they moved slowly towards the door. The strange
waves of color on the walls began to build up speed, as did the
wind that continued to swirl around them.

Jeremy found his eyesight finally begin to
focus on what was around him as he and Tony closed in on the door.
The photos and paintings that covered the walls were alive; all the
faces were laughing. The people danced and jigged, and even the
paintings seemed to move in a robotic fashion within the confines
of their frames.

Tony grasped the door handle and pulled at
it. The door resisted and stuck firm in its frame. He tugged again
and again, but there was no movement. Jeremy looked around the
room, trying to see if there was anything that they could use to
pry open the door. Next to the artistic, boarded-up fireplace sat
an old water jug with three iron poker looking implement handles.
He ran over to the jug and pulled at one of the handles. He held up
what he had grabbed and saw a blackened shovel-shaped end. He threw
it to the floor and pulled the next handle. Again he inspected its
end and saw the thick bristles of a fireplace brush. He threw that
down next to the shovel and yanked at the last handle in the in the
jug. He watched as a blackened, thick, pointed end of a poker came
free of its dark home. He ran back to the door, pushing Tony aside
and ramming the pointed end into the small gap between the door and
the frame. He withdrew it several times and returned it sharply
back into the same area of wood. The frame began to splinter and
crack. As soon as there was enough of a hole, he forced the poker
into it and began levering the door open. With each stab at the
wood, the voices began to scream, pleading with the two men not to
leave but join them.

The door opened with a crack. The force that
had been holding it shut had given up. The door flew open, and the
two investigators quickly exited. Tony even took time to pick up
the three fingers that had fallen to the floor.

As soon as they were safely back in the
hallway, the door slammed shut. They looked back down to the far
end of it but could see no sign of Michael, only a pool of blood
outside the door and then drops of the red liquid disappearing back
towards the stairs. The sound of music still filled the air, as did
the adult-toned laughter. Tony looked the three fingers he held in
his hand and dropped them, disgusted with the fact that he had
picked them up in the first place.

It was the sound of the door slamming shut
and the sight of his hand being in its way that registered first;
the pain was secondary, but when it came, it attacked him
violently. He watched with tear-filled wide eyes as blood pumped
from the three short red and purple stumps that were his fingers.
The pain he felt somehow felt like it was coming from the ends of
his fingers—the ones that were no longer there. Amongst the pain he
was feeling, his ears picked out another sound: a childish snigger
echoed around him. He pushed his bloody hand into his opposite
bicep and held the injured appendage by the elbow, he hoped that
this self-cradling arm position would help stop the flow of blood.
He ran down the remaining hallway and back down the stairs, which
were now illuminated by the large chandeliers that traced their way
down the stairway. His subconscious noted that there was something
different about the stairs as he descended them, but he was too
busy running back to the dining room that had been the group’s base
camp to take any notice.

He burst into the room expecting to see the
bags, cases and monitors that he had helped set up, but all of that
was gone. The room was filled with laughter, a bright orange glow
of a fire, and smells of food. The laughter was coming from the men
and women who were sitting at the table. Their conversations ceased
as they all looked at him. A broad-shouldered man who sat at the
far end of the table stood and raised his glass towards the injured
investigator.

‘I am so glad you have decided to join us,’
he said.

The others in the room joined him by raising
their glasses before taking a sip.

Michael stood frozen, and sweat began flowing
down his already moist face. He looked at all the faces staring at
him and noticed their pale complexions. There was a strange blue
tint to their skin. His attention was then caught by something in
his periphery. He looked at the food laid out on the table. His
eyes widened so much they could have fallen out of their sockets,
and he began to struggle for breath. His chin once again began to
tremble, signaling the start of another flood of tears.

The people at the table returned their
attention to the food and conversation, apart from the man at the
head of the table, who continued to stand and stare at Michael with
an evil smile across his face. The guests began pulling at the
cooked flesh of the now headless and garnished body of the missing
investigator and Michaels best friend, John.

He wanted to run but couldn’t move, fear had
caused his limbs to refuse any order his brain was telling them. He
stood staring at the pale guests ripping pieces of flesh from
John’s body and impatiently feeding it into their mouths.

‘See, not only has your male friend joined
us, but your female companion has agreed to entertain us,’ the
broad-shouldered man said, looking up at the twisted sculpture of
deer antlers.

Michael followed the man’s gaze and noticed
the sculpture begin to move. It rotated like a tornado in slow
motion. His cradled arms dropped to his sides when he saw Phoebe
appear, her naked, impaled body moving with the rhythmic movement
of the antlers. Two antler horns pierced her breasts where her
nipples once were, and another seemed to curve round and insert
itself into her vagina.

His jaw began to loosely vibrate as if he was
trying to say something, but nothing but low quiet moans escaped
him. The door opened that led towards the kitchen, and a headless
body dressed in a maid’s clothing walked in. The body carried a
large silver dome-covered serving tray. She moved around the table,
placed it in a small space amongst all the other food, and lifted
the cover.

Michael screamed when he saw his friends
head. Johns face was covered in blisters and charred skin where he
had been cooked, and the skin had cracked and hardened like a roast
chickens. His mouth was open with his tongue stretched out over his
lower lip and chin.

He could take no more. Michael’s last vision
was a blurred, almost melted collage of color as he collapsed onto
the small pool of blood that had escaped his swollen, stumped
fingers.

Tony and Jeremy could hear the laughter
coming from downstairs. They looked at each other with exhausted
eyes.

‘After you,’ Jeremy said with a sigh.

Tony closed his eyes and listened to the
inner voice that continued to tell him,
This is what you’ve been
looking for! Real proof! It’s going to make you famous.

He opened them again and began moving towards
the stairs, noticing the brightness cast from what he had thought
were just decorative, no-longer-working chandeliers. They both
pressed their backs against the wall and slowly descended, their
eyes searching what was below and along the side of the
staircase.

A cold blast of air engulfed them as they
reached the midway point in their descent. They both stopped and
pressed themselves harder against the wall.

‘You beginning to see the pattern here?’
Jeremy said.

Tony looked up at him and nodded. It was
clear to both of them that the cold wind that seemed to materialize
from nowhere was the dark spirits’ calling card.

Jeremy tapped Tony on the shoulder and
motioned with his head to continue. Tony began moving once more,
almost side-stepping down each of the marble steps of the
staircase. He stopped again when he saw the three children appear
at the bottom. The two girls each held a patchwork doll, and their
blond hair was tightly curled like little springs. The boy stood
behind them. He looked much older, his dark hair slicked back on
his scalp. They all had pale complexions and dark, sinister
eyes.

Three voices filled the heads of the two
investigators, who stood motionless on the staircase. They both
stared at the three children but could not see their mouths move,
yet their voices were strong and loud.

‘Come join us. Come join the party,’ the
voices called.

The three children began to slowly fade as if
made of dust, and the cold wind that blew around them blew them
away grain by grain.

When they had disappeared completely, the two
men continued their slow descent of the staircase. There was a
sudden blast of cold air that seemed to wrap itself around them,
and then the three children suddenly reappeared, standing on the
same steps as the two men.

They both felt the sudden electric shock of
fear and surprise shoot through their bodies. Their fight or flight
response shifted into overdrive, and the two men began launching
themselves down the stairs, bounding down the steps and missing one
here two there. Finally, Jeremy could no longer keep up with what
his legs were doing. His right foot slipped off the edge of one of
the lower steps, which made him lose his balance and begin to fall
forwards. He reached out his hands and found the back of Tony
pushing him forward just as he had reached the final step. Tony
felt the heavy shove of his colleague and began to buckle under the
strain of momentum and weight. Tony crashed face first onto the
cold floor, the bridge of his nose and chin splitting open on
impact. Jeremy had the unfortunate luck of having his left hand
slip from the back of his friend and smash into the floor at an
awkward angle. The sound of his arm breaking and the searing pain
resonated in his head.

‘Get off me!’ Tony shouted, spitting blood
onto the floor beneath his face.

Jeremy moaned and rolled onto his back,
cradling his arm that hung limp under the support of his strong
arm.

The cold wind began to rotate around them.
Dust and dirt from the floor began to lift up and show the spinning
vortex of the wind.