Elton hurries after Tiff as Dingus follows at his heels, happily wagging his tail. "So it's a ray gun, is it? You're gonna have to spill some beans on that!"
"There's no beans to spill." She keeps her tone short. "Ghosts don't die from laser beams. Slimer lied to you."
Kepler makes some cryptic gesture.
"Yes, Kepler, I'm aware I'm misremembering Ghostbusters. God."
The gravel crunches under their feet as they walk down the long driveway leading to the house. The trees surrounding them seem to lean in and darken the path; the effect becomes more pronounced with every step they take. Above them, thunder rumbles and droplets of rain hit the treetops.
"Of course it has to rain," Elton mutters. "Hopefully it doesn't get too bad."
Tiff barely notices the rain. Everything's spiking in the hollow behind her chest again and her ears feel like the static of an old television. She blurts, like they're still talking about it, "I'm not explaining the ray gun. I've already said too much, and— I've already said too much."
Elton sighs deeply. "I'll share a secret if you tell me. "
"None of my secrets are mine. Everyone's going to get mad at me."
Quick-footed, she scales the steps and tugs on the door to check and see if it's locked or not. It's so much easier to just get back to business than keep indulging the drama of personhood. There's a fear there, she thinks, and it may be left over from dropping the defenses: if she starts talking about the ray gun, it's going to lead to her talking about the bear she blew up with the prototype, which is something she really shouldn't mention to people who weren't there (like the night where they met Tiff's parents, Eliza's friends, and the Big Bopper; like fighting her grandfather in the woods; like falling out of a car and dying in a way that made Mr. Mathew have to turn back time; like slaughtering the lizardmen in her head).
Elton isn't privy to this. He doesn't know the scale of the universe. For all she knows, he's the way she was three years ago: on the precipice, so close to seeing, and not quite there yet.
She tugs on the door.
Unsurprisingly, it's locked. Tiff smacks the door handle gently out of spite.
The porch, with its spiraling columns and chipped stone steps, has been piled with junk. It's all random items from inside: an old chair with signs of cat scratches, an old TV with a cracked screen, several end tables with their drawers tossed haphazardly next to them, and a floor lamp that looks as if it were once quite expensive. Tiff audits them the way she does the things in her garage: what can be fixed? What can be salvaged?
None of it, probably. She isn't here to steal things. She's here to do something with a necromancer, whatever that something is.
Kepler scrambles over to the stuff, poking and prodding at everything. Dingus follows, moving to sniff Kepler's butt, which does not delight the alien rat.
Elton tugs on his leash. "Hey, leave his ass alone."
Kepler tries to bop Dingus on the snout. He gives an annoyed squeak when he misses the moving target again. The yellow lab simply wags his tail and looks at Kepler like they're best friends.
Looking at the large wooden door with its faded dark blue paint and several strange gouges, Elton crosses his arms. "You up for a little B & E?'
"I guess so?" Frowning, she steps down from the door and heads for the closest broken window, tugging Kepler's leash to signal for him to follow her.
Tiff wanders the front of the building, inspecting the broken windows. They're all boarded up from the inside. The gaps between boards are minimal. At the side of the house, though, she finds a basement window that is both slightly open and boardless. It'll be a tight fit, but at least it's a way into the reportedly haunted manor.
Why is it always the basement window?
While Tiff searches for a way into the building, Elton lets his curiosity get the better of him. He digs out his phone, opens the Discord conversation between himself and Bryce, he begins to read.
"Hey, I know I kinda... fucked up the other day after what you told me and I just want to say that I am so fucking sorry. Truly. I want to talk to you and tell you so much because there are some things I have done that I can never get away from. So when you and Tiff are done with whatever it is you are doing, call me. Yes, I know about Tiff. She told me. I don't know how you two really even met, but honestly? I'm glad you did. Tiff is a good person. Anyway, talk to you later. <3"
Elton doesn't know what the fuck to think or feel, but he won't get emotional. He has a haunted house to break into.
Tiff pokes her head back around the corner. "Elton!" she hisses. "I found a way in!"
He quickly pockets his phone and shakes his head. He's got to get it together. Turning to look at Tiff, he nods. "Awesome! Where?"
Soon they both find themselves looking at the slightly open basement window. Elton puts his hands on his hips and studies it. "Well, it's the best we're gonna get. I don't know if I can get Dingus through that, but we'll try."
"I'll head through first. Worst-case-scenario, we have to leave him out here."
Kepler gives her a look like she said something stupid and a little offensive.
She flicks an errant maple leaf from her jeans at him. "It was actually a great idea that we left you out there, given what happened to Darius. We didn't get caught because we left you outside."
He eats the leaf.
Dingus pisses on the side of the house. Elton shakes his head at it— and at whatever the hell Tiff just said. "I'm not gonna ask."
"I wouldn't answer. It's complicated."
"Let's just get in there. I think we'll be fine to leave Dingus if we have to. I'd... prefer to bring him.."
Tiff frowns, inspecting the lab as much as she can without touching him. "Is your dog diabetic? He keeps pissing."
"No, he just likes to save a little for everywhere he goes. It's a whole thing. Come on, get in there. Let's do this."
If there's one thing Tiff Sheridan knows how to do, it's climb through a window. She forced herself to learn in her childhood in case she ever got the guts to use it; she put it to use in her junior year of high school when she didn't want to bother her aunt with the sound of the front door closing; and she's putting it to use now.
She sets her bag on the ground and drops down next to it. She's going to have to go feet-first, like heading down the side of the house. It's easy; it goes without a hitch; she drags her bag down behind her, dirt scraping in lines against UFO-shaped spots of paint and green-to-black striped metal.
Tiff narrowly misses crunching an old box filled with glass Christmas ornaments. Luckily, her shoes touch solid, cracked concrete. The basement of the Winter Manor is dark. It smells like mildew reeks of dust. In her immediate vicinity, Tiff spots several boxes stacked on top of each other, but not much else beyond vague shapes and lumps in the distance. She squints into them and considers the flashlight in her bag.
Elton whisper-yells to Tiff, "Hey, you alright in there? Anything weird?"
She turns her face back to the window. "No, nothing weird. Just boxes. Hand Kepler down."
The rat squirms through the opening and doesn't get stuck this time. The practice has been paying off, it would seem. He scrambles around in the box of ornaments, somehow not breaking any of the delicate orbs and baubles. He looks triumphant in the dim light the small window provides as he holds up a golden ornament and presents it to Tiff.
She scoops him up and takes it from him. On some level, she knows she should put it back where he found it. On another, she thinks it's silly and sweet, so she shoves the gold ball into the main pocket of her bag, tries not to think about the frog prince implications, and takes another look around.
"I think everything's fine," she repeats. "There's mostly just storage down here. Do you think you would want to stay out there for a second?"
"Why would I want to stay out here? Is there something I shouldn't see?"
"No, no— No, um—" Fuck. Mr. Mathew was right. It's been a year and she's still shit at explaining herself when she should. It would be a Tiff move, though, to tell him; and it would be a Tiff move to just go into the house without saying anything. "The property recently switched hands to someone I'm looking for— technically his dead brother's hands— and I don't know if I can be as threatening as possible if you're there." She pauses, winces, and continues, "There's a lot you don't know that I'm anticipating he does, and I really don't have the time to explain it right now, as much as I probably should. If I run into him, I want to be the biggest threat possible."
Elton chews on his bottom lip contemplatively. What could she possibly be anticipating from someone that she needs to be as much of a threat as possible? Sighing and shaking his head, he looks at Dingus, giving him a small chuckle. The dog just looks up at him and pants.
"That's asking me to do a lot on good faith here, Tiff. It feels like you're hiding a lot from me and I just don't like it. I also think you'll find having me around could help your cause, but I can't be sure given I don't know the specifics." He knows he's being a bit petulant, but he doesn't want to miss anything interesting. He doesn't want Tiff to rush in there and get herself hurt, either. Plus, he hates feeling like he's useless and he wouldn't be.
Bryce said Tiff is a good person. He trusts Bryce. Fuck.
He articulates his groan. "Ugh. How long do you need?"
"Just— Fuck. Just— If you're going to come in, don't object to the shit I say, okay? If we run into him and I say something about the Order of the Way Through or saurexes or something, I need you to save the confusion for later. And I'll answer when we get a moment." Kepler pats her cheek; she puts her mouth near one of his ears and lowers her voice. "And you. Don't go straight to biting."
He squeaks softly in protest and pokes at the inside of her right forearm.
She cups his face. "I know Chip was trying to hurt me with the shadows. And I know Chester was taking my soul. And, yes, Kepler— stop tapping my arms, please— I know Peepaw pushed me through the window. And I know you were just trying to help. But we don't know what this guy is up to yet, and I'd rather talk and maybe see some ghosts than have to fight him immediately. Okay?"
Kepler pouts, but agrees.
Saurexes? Interesting. Elton isn't sure what that or any of the rest of it means— but, interesting. "Okay. Deal. I won't stop to ask, but I do want answers later."
She breathes relief and stops tugging her hair. (She hadn't realized she was doing it again.) "Thank god. You'll get them. If I remember."
Elton looks down to his panting dog and smiles. "And the same goes for you. Just like she told Kepler, don't go biting or worse without my go ahead. Now let's get your big ass through that window.
It doesn't take all that long to get Dingus through the window, but he panics slightly as his front goes over into the basement. He claws a little at the walls and at Tiff's arms.
"Stop whining, you ding dong," Elton mutters. (Dingus does not stop whining.)
With one more good shove, Dingus falls through and lands ungracefully next to Tiff and Kepler. Elton follows, crunching a glass ornament and cursing. He pauses to pull the carnage out of the soles of his shoes and take everything in. "Who puts ornaments like this right next to the window? Is this Kevin McCallister's house?"
"I've never seen Home Alone," Tiff admits, looking more toward the basement door than Elton. It's as good a plan as any. With Kepler still in her arms like an unruly toddler, she heads for it.
The pathway to the door is obstructed by various boxes and old furniture, not to mention the scariest wooden clown statue known to man. Paint-chipped grotesque features— smile like a cave entrance, cheeks like rotting tomatoes— stand sentry next to the door. That's a welcome to hell's funhouse if they've ever seen one.
Elton decidedly hates the statue. "If nothing in this house is cursed but that, I wouldn't be surprised. Whatever twisted paranormal horror lives in that is going to follow me home."
Dingus sniffs the statue and wags his tail.
"Well, it doesn't look like Chuckles, and it doesn't look like Duckie or Bawls, so I'd wager it probably is cursed. Which would be neat." Tiff reaches for the point-and-shoot in her exterior pocket and takes a quick picture. "It honestly kind of looks like a Night Clown priest."
Through the viewfinder of the camera, she sees its face and the white paint peeling away to dark, termite-eaten wood. That's the truth: it does remind her of the priest. They all look the same, don't they? She thinks about Bloodsaw's hands holding hers and the priest's endless rows of teeth in the moment she hears the shutter; she thinks about the clown shenanigans and a lie of a vow on her lips; she thinks about the ring on her finger and the bodies on the ground. More than that, she thinks about painting a recreation of this thing to hang in her room. Bloodsaw would hate it. That's reason enough.
Elton watches her take a picture of the clown statue and shudders. He makes a mental note to ask her for those pictures so he can talk about this on his show. If only he had remembered his camera. Oh well. It's a little late to go back now.
"Fuck. Okay. Let's— One second." She reaches into her bag and rummages around until she finds a second pair of disposable gloves to shove at Elton. "Put these on and then help me clear the way. Don't touch anything with your bare hands."
He does what he's told.
"Alright. I would say we could just climb over to get to the door, but..." She gestures to Dingus. "Let's just move what we can to clear a path and be as quiet about it as possible."
This would be so much easier if she had been in this house before. This isn't an Ivan Cunningham situation, though. She can't stand in her room, prick her finger, smear the blood over the runes on the bracelet around her wrist, and cut open the air to step into his house with a can of spray paint. She had been in his house before— delivered Ron DeSantis's autobiography to him, since he refused to come out to the "den of sin" that is the Book Nook. (That was before Bloodsaw worked there, too. They can't pin the blame on everyone's least-favorite nonbinary lesbian this time.) The price he paid for that copy of DeSantised was more than $15.99; it was also "IVAN CUCKINGHAM" spray-painted on the mirror above his fireplace with zero evidence of a break-in left behind.
It wasn't her greatest moment of political dissidence, in the same way this isn't her greatest moment of moving furniture for the sake of the supernatural. She picks up a box, lifts with her legs— it's just step one on a long staircase.
Elton steps in next to Tiff to help her with some of the boxes, sneezing on several occasions due to the dust. "Fuck. We should be getting paid for this labor."
"See, I always say that, and this is the only time they've paid me."
"Wait! You're getting paid? By who?"
She pauses. She can't say it's the government. "God."
"God? Damnit, Tiff. Nevermind. I'll ask again later."
"Noted devout Christian, Tiffany May Sheridan," she mutters, like it's a joke and not a fragment of who she isn't.
"Let's get inside this house and worry about your mysterious employer later."
"I work in a morgue. And a bookstore. That's enough."
"And I work at the Big Beaver. Excellent."
"Can we be normal now?"
"Honestly? Probably not. But let's give it a try. Everyone's doing it."
"It feels so good to be conformist," she sighs, hoping they both know it isn't true. "Everyone loves me now. My mom's overjoyed. Let's move this damn clown already."
It doesn't take them long to clear the basement to get to the door, but it takes plenty of sweat. They're covered in it. That and dust.
Dingus whines at the door.
"What? Something on the other side?"
Tiff considers it. "There's only one way to find out."
She puts her left hand in her bag and fingers the ray gun until she finds the grip. Before anyone can object, she puts her other hand on the doorknob to wrenches it open.
The open door reveals stairs that leading up to darkness. Nothing strange is waiting for them on the other side. Maybe Dingus didn't actually sense anything. Maybe it's something else entirely— something unrelated to their current situation.
Elton breathes in. "The mysterious staircase..."
"There's only one way to go." Tiff considers pulling the ray gun out of her bag and thinks better of it. She relinquishes her grip and goes for her flashlight instead. She may have had to replace the glass again, but there's its familiar heft, like on the night she brought it to the Cosmic Court and the day she used it to try to hit Despina.
Yellow-green beam shining in front of her, Tiff takes the first step, intent on leading the way.