The Spite House(93)

Finally, this part of Eric could never forgive his other, living self. The part of him, he was sure, that had let everything happen, instead of making something happen. This Eric believed that none of that remained with him.

The very first thing This Eric did once he was free of his other self was to find Masson and say, “You don’t have to go on like this. It doesn’t have to stay this way.”

Masson did not respond. He stayed in his corner, repeating, “I never hurt them.”

“All they want is an apology, and for you to tell them how you came back,” Eric said. “Then you can go. Don’t you want to? Aren’t you tired?”

“I never hurt them.”

“Like you never died?” This Eric said. “Just give them what they want, Masson. Tell them you’re sorry, and tell the truth. Then you can leave. Let them have the house. They already control most of it. You’ve been holding on to this one piece of it and you don’t even want it. They want it all. Give it to them. Give them their apology, be honest about what happened to you, and they’ll let you leave.”

This went on for days, Eric as persistent in his mission as Masson was in his denial. Eric did not care about lying to the dead old man. The house and the children wanted their uncle out of his sanctuary in the bedroom, the one place he was safe. They wanted his spirit in full the same way they had Max and Jane Renner, and Clyde Carmichael. They would have Eric’s remnant as well if he could not do as promised. And then he wouldn’t be free to roam the house, examine its captives, seek his answers. He’d be bound to the house and its true owners—Eleanor and Owen—in a deeper and worse way than he already was. He could not let that happen.

When Eunice finally entered the house, Eric felt her arrive. He broke Masson by saying, “The last living Houghton is in here now. She’s brought people with her. You can tell the children what they need to hear and then tell the world what the Houghtons and this town did to your family. This is your chance at peace and justice. Forgiveness and righteousness. You built this house so that no one would forget what was done to you and your family. The Houghtons pretended to care, then didn’t lift a finger to help you keep your father’s home. They let this town spread rumors that you were a madman who killed his brother’s children. That you’re the reason this house is evil. You have a chance to confront the last one left and make her tell the truth. You’re going to let that pass?”

This brought a small light to the old man’s dead eyes and he lifted his head to face Eric. “The last Houghton is here?”

“You know she is. But she won’t stay long. This is it. You can stay trapped here forever, or you can have your reckoning with her, then be at peace.”

Then Eric was on the stairs, moving down, his footsteps thumping without his feet landing. It was still very strange, being a spirit divorced from its body. But he was consumed by what he was here to do. Just as Eleanor and Owen were consumed by their hatred. And Peter himself was consumed by his fear. Eric thought that this was what allowed him to hold on to consciousness and sanity. His focus kept his sanity from being ripped apart by the impossibility of his existence, like Jane Renner’s.

When he came down the stairs and saw Eunice, Eric felt afraid at first because he knew that she could see him. He didn’t yet know how to control who he appeared to. The children knew. He would learn from them over time. Now, though, he was visible to Eunice because she was closer to death than she realized. He could see the life leaking out of her in curling wisps.

When did you get here? she said. I thought you weren’t coming. You don’t look well. You should leave, Eric. I told you, you don’t have to be here.

But he did. When he had told her that, she hadn’t understood what he meant. She would soon.

He was among the dead now, and the emotions of the house fully infected him. When Masson appeared downstairs with him, the old man’s fragile defiance crumbled to remorse and terror in an instant, and Eric knew that meant the children were present as well.

Eleanor and Owen laughed at their uncle’s pleas.

“I can help you,” Masson said.

“We don’t want your help,” Eleanor said.

“We want you,” Owen said.

“Please, let me help you,” Masson said. “I swear I’ll help you. If you give me time, I can remember. I can tell you.”

Eunice, through clenched teeth, hissed at the old man, “Tell them.”

The people in the room looked at each other, bewildered. The children continued laughing.

“Hurry and tell them, for God’s sake,” Eunice said. Her hand went to her chest and she clutched the front of her shirt like she meant to tear it off. “Hurry! I need to know.”

“I need time,” Masson said. “I just need time to remember.”

“There is no time! They’re coming, damn it!”

A rumbling energy shook the house. Eunice cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Before any of the living could get to her, Eric moved forward and picked her up. When Millie, Dana, and the others stopped and stared, he knew they still could not see him. They only saw Eunice suspended just above the floor. It hurt him to hold her, but he did it without thinking, forgetting that she was beyond saving and, moreover, not worth it. It was a lingering piece of his other self, something that it would call decency but that he knew was purely weakness. He wanted to drop her, but couldn’t, because as angry as he was, he did not hate her with the purity that the children did. He knew he would, eventually. The bit of humanity clinging to him would fade as he learned from the children, observed how they toyed with the souls they would soon collect.