Ghost House Revenge (7 page)

When she switched on her light, the glare blinded her, and she had to grope toward
the grating. She was going to put her hands over it, to feel that there was air coming
up through it. Then she would know there was nothing to fear.

She dropped to her knees on the carpet and put her hands out. No draft, though she
could still hear the laughter. What
was
that? Something made her crawl nearer, and she looked down into the grating.

“EEEYYYAAA!”

She jumped back, screaming. A hideous face had smiled up at her! Even as she stumbled
to her bed and sat there crying, she could see it in her mind’s eye. The eyes had
been blue and filmy, the smile revealing sharp teeth. There was blood caked on the
blue-veined forehead.

The door opened just then. Alicen looked up through tears to see her father entering
the room, his eyes shadowed with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming nearer to her bed. “Were you dreaming?”

“I—I saw a face,” Alicen choked.

She pointed to the grating in the floor. “I heard funny noises, and when I went over
to look, there was this ugly face under there!”

“Alicen, that’s just ridiculous,” Derek said. “You were dreaming.”

Now Melanie was standing in the doorway. “I heard Alicen. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Derek said. “My daughter was just having a bad dream. I hope it didn’t
wake the other children.”

“They’re sleeping soundly,” Melanie said. She came up to Alicen’s bed. “Honey, what
on earth were you dreaming about?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Alicen insisted, wishing they would just go away and leave her
alone. “I saw a face staring at me under the floor grating.”

“It was probably just a trick of the lights,” Derek said, standing. He had Alicen
firmly by the arm. “Come over here and I’ll show you there’s nothing there.”

“NNNNOOOO!”

“Shut up!” Derek snapped. “You want to wake the other kids, like at the Laines’ house?”

“I don’t want to go over there!”

Melanie moved forward to intervene, but not quickly enough to stop Derek from dragging
his screaming child to the floor grating. She stood stiffly, with her face turned
away, an icy chill crawling over her.

“Look at it, Alicen,” Derek ordered. “There is nothing there!”

“No!”

Derek, exasperated, twisted her arm a little. Alicen obeyed him at last and saw the
grating was empty.

“Dad, I know I—”

“You were dreaming,” Derek insisted.

Melanie felt something in her stomach go sour, something that told her Alicen hadn’t
been dreaming at all.

“What made you have such an awful dream?” she asked.

“Jamie Hutchinson,” Alicen said. “He told me people were murdered in this house. Is
that true?”

Melanie gasped a little, then quickly said, “No no, of course it isn’t true. Now,
you just lie down and go back to sleep. Would you like some tea or hot chocolate to
help you relax?”

Alicen was looking into Derek’s eyes. The warning in them made her shake her head.

“No, I’ll be okay,” she said.

Seeing the girl shivering, Melanie went to the bureau and pulled out an extra blanket.
To her surprise, Derek took it from her and laid it over his daughter. Then he bent
and kissed her forehead.

“You’ll be all right,” he said.

He walked with Melanie out to the hall, closing Alicen’s door very tightly before
speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why she behaves so hysterically.”

“It’s all right,” Melanie said, resisting the urge to tell Derek off for being so
rough with the child. “I’m sure Alicen will forget all this by morning.”

Derek waved his hand. “No. She’s had nightmares before this—about Elaine’s death.
I was certain she was over them. Now she’s probably wakened your children.”

“I told you they were sleeping,” Melanie said. She laughed, trying to ease the tension.
“My kids sleep through wars.”

“I just don’t understand her,” Derek said softly.

“It’s no wonder she had nightmares,” Melanie said. “After those stories Jamie Hutchinson
told her about murders. What would possess a boy to do that?”

“Showing off, I guess,” Derek said. But something in Melanie’s face told him there
was more to it than this. Her eyes were just a little too wide, and her smile was
just a little too forced.

“Uh, there isn’t any truth to that, is there?” he asked. “I know it’s a stupid question,
but—”

“Derek, nothing bad ever happened in this house,” Melanie insisted. “Look, I’m really
tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, she hurried down the dark hallway. She got into bed, closed her eyes, and
pressed herself close to Gary, as if his body could act as a barrier against the darkness.
She pulled the covers clear up to her chin, not wanting an inch of her body exposed
to the night. Then she buried her face in Gary’s chest and breathed deeply. Soon,
out of sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

Someone touched her arm. Melanie opened her eyes slowly and looking at the clock radio
vaguely noted that several hours had passed. She closed her eyes again and snuggled
closer to Gary. But when she heard her name, she opened them again and turned around.

The dark-haired woman was standing next to her bed. “Come,” she said, taking Melanie’s
hand.

Without protest, Melanie rose from the bed and followed the woman from the room. She
felt sleepy and yet keenly
aware of the noises in the house. The wind blew outside, rattling the windows. Nancy
was mumbling in her sleep, and Lad gave one yelp from the kitchen.

But Lad was sound asleep when they entered that room. Once again, the light was shining
brightly. Able to see her surroundings, Melanie felt stronger; her voice was somewhat
harsh when she demanded, “What does all this mean?”

The woman shrank from her words.

“Please,” Melanie said, more gently, “I know you’re trying to tell me something. What
is it?”

“It is not over yet,” the woman said sadly.

“What isn’t?” Melanie asked, though she felt something gnawing at her stomach. “Please
tell me! I can’t fight what I don’t know!”

“You must leave this place!” the woman cried. She looked over her shoulder, her brown
eyes wide with terror. Then she turned back to Melanie.

“I must go!” she cried, wringing her tattered gown. “She comes now. She is evil!”

“Who is she?” Melanie demanded.

But the woman disappeared. Melanie took a step forward, and as she did so, the room
light went out. She swung around terrified, expecting to see something hovering behind
her in the darkness. But no one was there.

“What do you want?’ Melanie whispered. “Who are you?”

No answer. The clock above the sink began to tick loudly. Melanie stared up at it,
unmoving. Her eyes began to droop, though she desperately wanted to stay awake. She
sank down to the floor.

She forced her eyes open again. But she wasn’t looking up at the clock. She was looking
at the clock radio next to her bed. It was 7:30
A.M
., and the sun was shining.

It was just another dream, she told herself insistently. I just had the horrible incidents
of last year on my mind.

In broad daylight it was easier to convince herself not to be afraid.

Much to Alicen’s relief, nothing was said about the incident at breakfast. Alicen
sat with her head low to her cereal bowl, trying to make herself believe it had been
a dream. But it had seemed so real!

Across the table, Derek was also thinking about it. He recalled the series of nightmares
Alicen had had after her
mother died. Was that happening again? Or was his daughter overly impressed by tall
tales of a young boy? Funny, Melanie had seemed a little unnerved about it all, more
than she should have been if it was only a dream. He looked over the rim of his coffee
cup at her. She was reading an art magazine, nibbling on a piece of toast. Derek recalled
the strange way she had behaved the night before. He wondered if she had been hiding
a secret—something to do with the murders Alicen had spoken of. But that was just
ridiculous, Derek thought. Melanie had flatly denied it, and the VanBurens were hardly
the types to be involved in murders. No, it was just a dream. That was all there was
to it.

“Mom, you have to sign a permission slip for me,” Gina said then, interrupting his
thoughts. She pulled a piece of blue paper from between the pages of a book.

“What’s it for?” Melanie asked.

“The eighth grade is going on a trip to Vanderbilt Planetarium,” Gina explained.

“Are you going?” Derek asked Alicen.

Alicen nodded and produced her own slip of paper. Derek and Melanie read and signed
them. Gina smiled at Melanie. Alicen did not smile at her father.

“We’ll have to do something special for your graduation,” Gary said. “Maybe we could
have a family reunion.”

“What a good idea!” Melanie said. “Our family hasn’t really seen this house yet.”

“You never had a housewarming?” Derek asked.

“Well, we were kind of—
busy
the first months,” Melanie faltered.

Alicen stirred her cereal. Without raising her head, she looked up at Melanie. What
were they busy with? Murders?

“What’s the matter?” Gina asked her.

“Nothing,” Alicen said, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

Later Gary and Derek left for a session of therapy and Gina and Kyle went out to the
bus stop but Alicen dawdled, fingering the counter and finding excuses to delay. She
bent down to tie a shoe that was already tied. Then she leaned heavily on the counter,
finding a place for her elbow amid all the dishes and propping her chin on her hand.
She looked up at Melanie.

“Do you think I could have another bedroom?”

“Why?” Melanie asked. “Because of last night?”

Alicen nodded. “I saw a face—I know I did! It had blond hair, and it was
ugly
. I don’t want to stay in that room.”

Melanie put her hand against Alicen’s cheek.

“Honey, it’s just a dream,” she insisted. “This house is as safe as can be.”

“Jamie Hutchinson said—”

“Jamie Hutchinson is a big fibber,” Melanie said. “And if I get hold of him I’ll—well,
never mind. Just realize that boys often make up stories to impress the girls they
like.”

“They do?”

“They do,” Melanie said. “Hey, here comes the bus! You’d better hurry and catch up
with the others.”

Alicen started to run out the door, but before she did she turned and kissed Melanie
on the cheek. Melanie watched her race down the hill, thinking her weight made her
look much younger than thirteen. She wasn’t happy to hear about that boy teasing her.
Wasn’t it obvious that Alicen had enough problems? A mother who was dead, a father
who had no patience with her?

Melanie went to the sink and tried to concentrate on the breakfast dishes. Somehow,
alone in the kitchen with Alicen’s “dream” on her mind, she was taken back to the
night when Gary had been hurt. She saw a tall, dark-haired intruder fighting with
her husband. She heard Gary’s scream, then glass shattering.

Somehow, she could believe that Alicen had really seen a face. What had she said?
That it was blond-haired and ugly? Now Melanie closed her eyes and saw a face herself.
It was of a young, pretty blond woman. She was smiling, but then the smile faded and
turned into an evil grimace. Melanie’s eyes snapped open.

She felt her lungs constrict, and a weakness in her legs that came when she was feeling
guilty about something. But why? She had nothing to do with the woman’s death. Why
did she always feel such pain to think about her? Last night, when Gary had mentioned
the librarian’s death, she had wanted to scream. If it wasn’t her fault, why did she
always feel such guilt about it?

“It isn’t guilt,” Melanie said. “It’s sorrow.”

She scrubbed hard at a frying pan. “Oh, Janice,” she whispered. “Why did you have
to die like that?”

Suddenly the frying pan slipped from her hand. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter
and rocked there before settling at Melanie’s feet. Sighing, she bent down to retrieve
it.

“I’ve gotten myself so nervous I’m dropping things,” Melanie said out loud. ‘I’ve
got to stop thinking this way!”

She wiped at the pot with furious motions. “Everything is all right,” she said.

She was unaware that an unseen hand had knocked the skillet from her, a gesture of
anger at her words. Everything was not all right.

You killed me!
the being shouted, as if Melanie could hear her.
It’s your fault I walk in darkness, and you’ll pay for it!

But not yet, Melanie VanBuren. I won’t let you discover me until it’s too late
.

Melanie decided the best way to conquer her fears was to work hard on her painting.
She finished the two paintings for Sarah Kaufman sooner than she had expected. One
day, she dropped Nancy off at kindergarten and headed toward the mayor’s house. It
was a mansion on the other side of town, as big as theirs, but much newer.

“Let me see the masterpieces,” Sarah said, inviting Melanie to sit down in the living
room. “I can’t believe you finished them already!”

She tore the brown paper from the two canvases and propped them against the table.
Sarah gasped and lifted one of them to study it. Then she carried it to the fireplace,
setting it on the mantel in front of a portrait of some distant relative. She stepped
back and admired Melanie’s painting.

“Look at the detail!” she cried happily. “I love the way the sun’s rays hit the church
spire. And I can almost count every bud on the rosebushes.”

She turned and smiled at Melanie. “They’re pink.”

“Well, of course,” Melanie said. “That’s what you asked for.”

“Marc is going to be so pleased,” Sarah said. “I haven’t told him about these, yet.
They’re a surprise for his birthday.”

As Sarah poured coffee into dainty gold demitasse cups, Melanie looked around the
elegant living room. “Are these antiques family heirlooms?” she asked.