The Face in the House

32

The room was dark.

Not just dark, but vacuous. The depth of the blackness was so intense, it felt like it wanted to pull her eyes straight out of their sockets. It was a darkness so complete, she could've been in an open field or a coffin, and she wouldn't have known the difference.

But she knew where she was. She was in bed, in Rose's room, in Thornewood House. She was freezing, and she couldn't move a muscle from the neck down. It was like being trapped in a sheet of black ice. She was blind, disoriented by the darkness, but she could feel it . . . she could smell it . . . she could hear its shrill, horrible shriek. Something was there, watching her.

Her heart pounded, trying to escape the cage of her chest that was suddenly much too small. She tried to catch her breath, but tried not to breathe—the sweet honey stench was stronger and more putrid than ever.

Despite the darkness, she kept her eyes wide open, watching the room. She saw nothing, but she could hear it, could sense it coming closer.

Owen was beside her, she recalled, though she couldn't see his form. He was asleep, and oblivious to the threat that was drawing nearer and nearer. She cursed her stiff, useless muscles. She was trapped, helpless within her own body.

She cried out when she saw movement. A shadow, somehow darker than the already supernatural darkness, moved toward her. It was a void, a black hole in the shape of a human. Like an evening shadow, its proportions were exaggerated—head, arms, legs, fingers—everything horribly lengthened. Tears dampened her face, hot against her cold skin.

The being leaned over her, so close she could smell its familiar breath. Burnt sugar, honey, death, decay, whatever it was, it was strong enough to bring bile into her mouth. For a brief moment, she saw its face: sunken eyes and a mouth open and twisted in an everlasting scream of agony and fury.

Teddy screamed then, her voice joining the other, a horrible duet of utter terror.

It took her a moment to realize Owen's arms were around her, that his voice was consoling her, shushing her. She felt him lean over her, heard the click of the lamp on the bedside table, but the room remained in inky blackness.

Owen screamed when the door burst open, the knob hitting the wall with a gunshot bang. Teddy shielded her tear-filled eyes as bright light filtered through the doorway. When she saw it was Malcolm and Poole, she realized she could move again.

They scrambled out of bed and joined their friends in the hallway. They each held a large gas lantern and wore matching expressions of fear.

"There's something in there," Teddy said, her throat tight and sore from shouting.

She didn't have to elaborate. They could all smell the honey-sweet stench, could feel the chest-tightening dread in their hearts.

"It's strong," she whispered.

They stood in silence, huddled together in a pool of light in the dark hallway.

"You two should leave," Owen said, locking eyes with Teddy and his brother. "There's nothing stopping you—"

"No," Teddy and Malcolm said in eerie unison, with matched tones of panic.

"We don't know what it's capable of—" Poole started.

"Exactly. That's why I won't leave you here," Malcolm said, his eyes pacing between his brother and the butler.

"Just go, stay at a hotel—"

The argument dissolved in her ears and she shivered. She felt a prickle at the back of her neck. She had the keen sense that something was watching her from the shadows that surrounded them. Her senses were heightened with fear, with adrenaline, with the will to live, with the will to keep her home and her friends. She could hear something . . . a faint hum. She could feel it, a low vibration coming from the floor.

The vibration strengthened and soon they all heard it, all felt it. The argument stopped and they looked around, fear renewed.

The house came alive all around them, pulsing, breathing, beating. The vibration became a rumble, like a steady earthquake underfoot. In the distance, they heard glass shatter and books tumble as things fell from atop their massive stacks.

Teddy lost her balance and grabbed Owen's shoulder for support. She glimpsed the floor below, lit only by the light of the lanterns. What she saw was impossible, it didn't make sense. She looked down again and saw the same, surreal scene. Where her bare feet should have been, there was what appeared to be a rush of dark water. It rushed over all of their feet, like a shallow river. But she couldn't feel water, and her feet didn't feel wet. All she felt was the vibration of the house all around her.

Soon, the rolling rapids slowed and parted, allowing her to see the pale skin of her foot. She saw then, that it wasn't water at all. It was a sea of spiders, running in troves over their feet, their black legs moving faster than the eye could see, blending them together into a black rush.

She screamed, repulsed by the unfathomable sight. Every instinct in her muscles told her to run, to climb, to get away from the overflowing, infinite stampede of creatures. She ran, could feel their wriggling bodies smash into goo below her feet. Her fear alerted the others, who now saw them too. They ran blindly, shouting and shrieking, in all directions.

In her frenzy, she forgot about the blinding darkness. Without a lantern of her own, she was swallowed by it. She reached what she believed to be the table in the seance room. She felt its surface, cool and smooth and spider-free. She climbed on top of it with shaking limbs.

"Mal! Go! Get out of here!" she heard Owen shout from somewhere nearby, though she could no longer see him.

She whirled around to find him, and spotted a pool of light. Within it, she could see Malcolm, his forehead creased, his lips a tight line, as if he was holding back a scream, or a mouthful of vomit. Next to him was Owen. They stood by the front door. Owen was reaching for the doorknob.

Her throat tightened and hot tears came to her eyes. She wanted to scream, wanted to kick, wanted to destroy. The anger flared within her like a match. She no longer cared about the dark presence, or about the thousands of spiders that rampaged the house. The fear they brought her was nothing compared to the fear of opening that door.

Just as she was about to run, to put herself between them and the door, she saw Owen's face twist with fear and revulsion. He and Malcolm stepped away from the door. In the light of Malcolm's lantern, she could see from her perch on the table, the door was gone. In its place was what looked like a thick, white sheet of metal. It took her a moment to put two and two together. The spiders, mobilized, running, but why? Where? Before her eyes the creatures were hard at work, spinning their fine silk webs, barricading the door and trapping them inside.

"Oh my god . . ." Owen said.

The brothers fled from the covered door, tripping and slipping over crushed spiders and each other's feet. The house continued to quake. It was like being inside someone's stomach—groaning, moaning and pulsing.

"Here, here!" came Poole's voice.

Teddy craned her neck and saw the other pool of light illuminating the butler's face. He was standing on top of the sofa with a lantern in one hand and holding his other out to Malcolm. They reached the sofa and collapsed onto it.

"Teddy, where are you?" Owen shouted.

"I'm here," she said, closer than he had expected. "I'm standing on the table."

"You okay?"

She took a shaky breath. She felt her anger receding, and in its place, a heavy exhaustion.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said.

She let her body drop into a sitting position on the table. She wished the noise would stop, that the incessant vibration would end. She rested her eyes, tried to drown it all out. She pictured the spiders running, working, spinning their webs in a deranged frenzy. She wished they would stop. Wished they would go away.

She imagined them all stopping their work, little legs slowing, spinners halting, and the mass of spiders crawling back into the shadows to rest. The thought brought her peace. She felt her heavy eyelids close.

"They appear to be . . . receding . . ." she heard Poole's voice.

"My god . . ."

Their voices sounded very far away, as sleep took her.