The Haunted

“No. I told you. But it’s not the house that’s the problem. It’s what lives in the house.” He didn’t want to describe in front of her parents and the kids what had happened, so he took her arm and led her out of the kitchen, down the hall to the room in which she’d been sleeping. He closed the door. In the mirror above the dresser, he saw his reflection: he looked like a homeless man, his clothes wrinkled, his hair disheveled, his entire appearance one of unruliness and disarray. He looked like he’d spent the night on the front lawn.

He sat her down on the bed, took a deep breath. “I saw it,” he said. “I felt it. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but the thing that’s haunting our house is much bigger than a ghost. It’s made up of ghosts. It’s … it’s an entity of some kind that … that takes the people who died at our house or on our property and … and they become part of it. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s big, it’s old, it’s dangerous, it’s evil.”

She was nodding. “So those massacres, those suicides, those murders, all those men who died there over the years, they’re part of this.”

“Yes!” he said, relieved that she understood despite his stumbling description. “Exactly!”

She looked at him. “Is there any way to get rid of it? Exorcise it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so.”

Claire took a deep breath. “You are not going back there to work.” She fixed him with a face that brooked no disagreement.

He nodded. Thinking about what he’d been through, he realized that he didn’t want to go back to the house. Maybe she was right; maybe he had still been under the influence when he’d arrived. But he wasn’t any longer, and he readily agreed to do his work here at her parents’ house. “I still need my disks and files and CDs,” he told her. “But I’ll call Rick and have him go over with me this morning. The two of us should be able to get everything I need in a few minutes. Is there anything you need? You or the kids?”

“Not right now, but we will have to start moving our stuff out of there sometime soon,” she said.

“I’ll look around, see if there’s anything else I can bring with me.”

“No. Things are too … hot there right now. Just get your equipment and go. We’ll let things cool down for a few days, then decide what to do.”

Julian offered her a half smile. “We can’t stay at your parents’ forever.”

She smiled back. “Nor do we want to. But let’s just take it easy for a few days. Think about things. We shouldn’t make any rash decisions. You just get your Web site done. I’ll work my way through this district settlement; then we’ll figure out where to go.”

“I love you,” he said. He realized he hadn’t said it to her when he first came over.

“I love you, too,” she replied, and kissed him on the nose. “But let’s get out there now and rescue the kids from my dad.”

Julian took a shower, then had breakfast. Claire went to work shortly after eight, and as soon as she was gone, he gave Rick a call. The print shop didn’t open until ten, which gave them plenty of time, and Rick promised to meet him there in fifteen minutes.

“Can I go?” James asked as soon as he hung up the phone.

Julian put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.” He heard Roger’s snort of derision from the couch and chose to ignore it. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back pretty quickly.”

It was quick. Rick must have been able to tell that he wasn’t really needed, as there was no heavy lifting and everything they took out of the house could have been just as easily carried by one person, but he had seen the ghost that night of the party and had no doubt read between the lines and figured out that something else had gone down. He didn’t ask any questions, though, and for that Julian was grateful.

“I’ll explain it all later,” Julian promised when they were finished.

Rick nodded, looked down the street, then over at the house. “Whatever it is, I think you made the right decision,” he said.

Julian spent the rest of the morning setting up his equipment in the room he’d be sharing with Claire, using her mother’s sewing machine table as a desk. He spent the afternoon working, trying to ignore all the distracting intrusions, taking occasional breaks to hang out with the kids. To thank her parents for their hospitality, he took everyone out to Fazio’s for dinner, and afterward all six of them sat in the living room watching television until, one by one, they drifted away.

The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with his father-in-law, but it was nine o’clock and the kids were in bed, Claire was in the bathroom taking a shower, and Claire’s mother went into the kitchen. Julian pretended to be concentrating on the procedural crime show that was on TV, but Roger leaned forward, blocking his view. “You pathetic fruit fly,” he said disgustedly. “I always knew you weren’t a man, but now you’re afraid of your own house? Because you think it’s haunted? What are you, three?”