The Spite House(95)

“Mm. How are Lafonda and Millie?”

He was glad to hear they were doing well, in light of everything, and Dana was glad to hear that Dess and Stacy were happy with their new home.

Stacy was going to start school after the Christmas break. She was eager to talk to kids her age again, make some friends. She liked being near the coast, too, although Eric told her that these beaches were better suited for hanging out and watching the water instead of getting in. Lots of smaller rocks hiding around the big rocks, he told her. The currents were strong too, making it too risky for swimming. She seemed to understand.

He took her to the beach a day after they moved to Northern California. He wanted to see how it felt, watching her come close to untamed water. Wondering if there was some invisible threat out there that could take her away again. Small butterflies fluttered in him when Stacy came within about twenty feet of low tide. Before he could call to her to come back, Dess did it for him. It felt good to be a little uneasy. The part of himself that he surrendered to the house held most of his stronger emotions, but he was glad it wasn’t stealing his worry. He still needed to be able to watch out for his kids.

Eric was also glad to be done wondering what Stacy was, or how she returned, and back to thinking about more practical things. How would she do in school? What was Dess going to do with her life now? She had been willing to sacrifice so much to help give her sister a chance at a future. Now they both had that chance. They were going to grow older, have complete lives, maybe kids of their own one day.

That thought brought a smile to his face. If he could hold on long enough, he hoped his grandkids would look up to him like he used to look up to his grandfather, and that he would get a chance to tell them exactly how unique and gifted they were. The power they could access if they needed to.

He didn’t know how long he had, however. The difficult nights threatened his health. What would happen to the girls if he died in the next few years? Could he claw his way back to them?

Dess took charge of reaching out to Tabitha, letting her know they were safe, laying the groundwork for a reunion as a contingency, in case Dess checked on him one morning and found him dead cold and gone. It wasn’t something he cared to think of, much less talk about, but he knew it was important to be prepared. Still, he had reason to believe he wouldn’t die soon.

His other half was having too much fun dragging him back into the house each night via dreams that weren’t dreams, because, as he well knew, there were no dreams in that house. His other half would figure out soon enough that it would have to pace itself. Eric’s muscles and joints ached, his eyes felt sore from how little rest he got, and he was always a little chilly, even when he was sitting in the sun. He was up to two energy drinks per day to stay awake as long as he could, and that couldn’t be great for his heart. If things continued like this, he might not make it to his next birthday. And that was not what his other half wanted. It wanted him to have a long lifetime of misery and anxiety—of his heart skipping every time he caught himself nodding off. Of being forced back into that house night after night, venturing so deep into its shadows that he was sure he’d never make it back to the light. His other half would have to scale back how often it drew him in if it was going to prolong this for decades. Eric was sure it was smart enough to recognize that.

Every time Eric joined his other self in the house, he felt how glad it was to have him back. Not because it was lonely, or missed feeling alive and being whole. No, it was glad that its living self hadn’t truly escaped the Masson House either. Eric knew that even when his other half reached the end, discovered there was nothing more to learn, no more power to grasp, it would keep looking. It would keep tormenting him with its restlessness. It would never stop.

Out of spite.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


To my brother Marvin, and my sister-in-law Yolanda. The trip to come see you in 2019 gave me motivation to finally finish what I started. Thank you. Love you.

Thanks to my agent, Lane Heymont, for believing in this book, facilitating this journey, and consistently coming through when you say you will.

Thank you to my splendid editor, Daphne Durham, her assistant, Lydia Zoells, and everyone else at Tor Nightfire who brought The Spite House to life.

Thank you to the Black Bar Mitzvah team, Jay Ellis, Aaron Bergman, Sydney Foos, and Alexis Dinenberg, for your faith in the book. Likewise to Katrina Escudero with Sugar23 for your work in making it something that much bigger.

Thanks to my parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins for putting up with me being way too into scary stories for just about my entire life.

And thanks to Karla, the first person to hear every bit of good news I’ve had to share along the way. Love you.