The Spite House(91)

In fact, as the week went on it became apparent that Eric would be a no-show. She called him several times, and each day he answered, but never communicated a sense of urgency or anticipation when she verified the date, time, and expectations with him.

“I’ll be there,” he would say one day, “I’ll see you there” the next.

“Eric, if you’d rather not come back, just tell me,” Eunice told him that morning, when he still hadn’t come to her mansion. “I understand. I won’t hold it against you or try to undercut our deal over it. You have my word.”

“I’ll be there, Eunice. I have to be.”

Now, the night was here, but Eric wasn’t. The sheriff assigned two deputies to wait outside in case something went wrong. It looked good for the news crew, who planned their exterior shots and took people aside one by one for interviews. Millie and Neal talked outside while Lafonda and Dana kept each other company. Eunice wished Eric had told her he didn’t want to go through with it, but she’d meant it when she said she wouldn’t hold it against him. Just looking up at the spite house made her pull the collar up on her jacket. Its chill was not nearly as severe as what she’d felt when Aunt Val died, but it was nonetheless recognizable to her. If this was what it was like out here, how strong was it inside? The house was as active and awake as she expected it to be. Eric didn’t have to be there to keep it “switched on,” as he put it. He’d done all she could have asked of him.

Eunice checked the pulse indicator on her watch and was glad to see it in a manageable range. The longer she stood here staring at the house, letting it intimidate her, the more time her heart would have to catch up to the trepidation in her head. She had waited long enough. She had waited years. It was time to get this done.

She called out to the others, “Are we ready?”

Millie and Dana hesitated. The two who knew. The others quickly gathered what they needed and followed Eunice into the spite house.



* * *



The interior was not as cold as she expected. That made her pulse quicken. Maybe Eric was more essential than she thought. But the house had been active. The sheriff had said he wouldn’t go back inside, so something must have scared the hell out of him.

That was right after everything happened, Eunice reminded herself. Of course it was buzzing then. Now you’ve let it sit alone too long. You’ve let it go dormant again.

No, that couldn’t be. It couldn’t be dead quiet now, less than a week after the Rosses left. Unless …

What if it was sated? It took the Renners when they came back. What if that was all it wanted? That might be why it let Eric go. Nothing to do with a deal he brokered with the children. The house simply didn’t have room or use for him. Now it was going to hibernate, and she arranged all of this for nothing. It was colder inside, yes, and the cold appeared to shift around, like it was stalking prey for sport, but that wasn’t going to convince anyone that the house was haunted. Damn it, she should have had people on standby ready to go sooner, no more than a day after Eric left the house. She could have gotten Neal a private jet from anywhere in the country. Could’ve pressed one of the television producers harder and earlier, had a crew reserved and ready. Why did she think she could wait this long for the house to still be as alive as she needed it to be?

She took a deep breath. Relax, be patient. This will happen. You’ll make it happen if you have to.

“So we’re just waiting, right?” Neal said.

Eunice looked at him, then the others. Neal stood against the wall opposite the couch, where Dana and Millie sat together. The news team set up just inside the door, obviously not expecting any emergencies that would demand a fast evacuation. Eunice stood in the center of the room. Seconds turned into minutes with no one saying anything, but with Neal’s impatient sighs growing in frequency.

“Are you supposed to do something to summon the ghosts?” Neal said.

“I’m already doing it, just being here,” Eunice said. She raised her voice slightly, as if announcing herself to the house as much as to the rest of the people in the room. “I’m the last member of the Houghton family, and at this place, in the midst of the American Civil War, a dozen men and boys were hanged in a horrible crime because they were betrayed by one of my ancestors. My family tried to make amends but they could not protect us from the curse put on us by those who died. So we tried something else. We gave the land up to a descendant of one of the hanged men, but things did not go as we’d hoped. Since then, this land’s history has only gotten worse, with this house being the worst of it. I believe this house has wanted someone from my family to be here in a moment like this, when it has its eyes open. I believe that it knows this is the last chance for the ancestors to confront someone who shares the blood and name of their betrayer.”

Eunice’s heart was racing; she didn’t need to check her watch to know that. It felt sore, too, like an overworked or bruised muscle. She was taking a gamble. The curse never directly killed anyone in her family. The stress of knowing about it likely contributed to some heart attacks and suicides, but the ghosts couldn’t kill. They only swarmed and horrified those already dying. What if it was different at the scene of the original crime, though? What if the site, or the house, gave them power they didn’t have elsewhere?

In the silence that followed her speech, Eunice thought she heard men screaming somewhere outside of the house.