Darkhouse (Experiment in Terror #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We were speeding crazily around the wet corners on the 101 heading north. With the doors locked for some inexplicable reason, and Dex refusing to utter a word or even look my way, I was on the narrow verge of having a freak out.

It was obvious that Dex was having one himself as the look of absolute fear never left his eyes. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to grab hold of the steering wheel and pull the car over myself. But as strong as I was, he was no doubt stronger and in this weather I’d probably end up flipping the car, or worse.

I wondered if screaming would help, or if pleading would help, or if crying would help. Billy Joel was still playing from the speakers, which made the situation even more absurd.

And then it dawned on me. I knew what it was. I knew what Dex was afraid of. It all made sense. He saw it, her, with his own eyes.

“You saw her,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Didn’t you?”

Dex’s hands tightened on the wheel though his foot came off of the pedal slightly. His eyes darted towardsme and then back to the road again.

I leaned in closer, careful not to invade his space.

“I saw her too,” I confided. “And I’ve seen her before that, back in Portland. She told me things.”

Dex’s brow furrowed. “What did she say?”

“So you did see her!”

He ignored me. “What did she tell you?”

“Pull over and I’ll tell you. I won’t talk to you while you’re like this. You’re going to get us both killed.”

Just like that, Dex stepped on the brakes and yanked the Highlander down a rural road flanked by waving chestnut trees. The car lurched to a stop and he impatiently flipped the gear into park and flicked off the ignition.

He took off his seatbelt and adjusted himself in his seat so he was facing me. The rain was falling hard on the roof. I had always found that to be one of the most soothing sounds and this time was no different.

“Talk,” he commanded bluntly. His eyes were noncommittal; his long, wide mouth was set in a grim line. His hat had slid down a bit, adding shadows to his face. The front of his hair flopped onto his forehead.

I reached over and tilted the hat’s brim up off his brows and gently smoothed his hair to the sides. His forehead was hot and smooth underneath my hands; his hair slightly damp from sweat and hair product.

Touching him felt strangely intimate, like I was really seeing him for the first time. I don’t know why I did it; I guess some part of me instinctively wanted to soothe him. It was the first time I’d seen him look remotely vulnerable.

I was only a hand’s length away from his face. His eyes, though unreadable, were looking deep into mine. I could have easily sat there for a long time just staring at him, holding his gaze. If I imagined hard enough, I could almost see lightning flowing between us in an unbroken line.

But the more I stared at him like that, the more I became conscious of how much of a psycho I must have looked.

I took my hand off of his forehead and dropped my eyes to the seat. The bolts were broken. I noticed how heavily my heart was beating in my chest. What was it about this man that agitated not only my mind but my heart as well?

There was only one way to find out. I took a deep breath and dove in.

“Last week at work,” I said, “I was waiting for the elevator. There was no one in the lobby, or so I thought. Then I noticed this lady sitting, totally motionless, on the couch. She was like no one I had ever seen before. Like someone out of a David Lynch film, almost.”

I met his eyes again. They had never left mine, like they were waiting for my gaze to return to his. I felt like he was trying to hypnotize me. I was torn between feeling self-conscious and wanting to look away, or to fall deeper into them and lose myself. Then there was that accompanying feeling of tightness in my chest, the feeling that I wasn’t getting enough air, and that I was drowning in this indescribable whirlpool.

I couldn’t take it anymore and quickly diverted my eyes to the outside of the car. The rain and interior fog had blurred the windscreen but I could still make out the shapes of the trees dancing in the background. I focused on their movements, all the while knowing he was still looking at me. I continued talking.

“She was wearing...well, it looked like she was dressed for her prom, only she had to be about eighty or something. She had perfectly curled hair—you know, like they did in the forties, set with pins and everything—and a whole face full of the thickest makeup ever. Like greasepaint. And her lipstick. My god, I have never seen such a sloppy job. She even had it on her teeth, which was scary because this freak would not stop smiling at me. Even as the elevator doors were closing.”

I shot a glance at Dex to make sure he was still listening. And gasped.

There was a trail of blood running out of his mouth.

He was biting his lower lip so hard that he was drawing blood. His eyes remained motionless and fixed on mine; I started to wonder if he truly was looking at me or if he had gone into a trance, or was experiencing some kind of seizure.

“Dex, you’re bleeding,” I said trying to hide the horror in my voice.

With a measured movement he languidly licked his lips and dropped my gaze. I quickly reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a tissue. He reached for it in stupor. I pushed his hand aside and dabbed the tissue on his lips. With my other hand I leaned on his shoulder and bent down so that my face was right in front of his. No lazy gazing this time. I needed him to see me.

“Are you OK?” I asked politely but firmly. “Seriously. Answer me, Dex. Otherwise I’m calling my uncle for help because I don’t know what to do with you right now.”

He took the tissue from my hand, balled it up and then tossed it in the backseat. He sucked back on his lips for a few seconds. The individual hairs in his moustache bristled. For a mere moment I entertained the idea of sucking his lips myself. It was an inappropriate thought, above all else, and I pushed it out of my head.

He released his lip. It had stopped bleeding. His eyes looked up at the ceiling and he took in a deep breath. I felt that maybe I wasn’t helping. I took my hand off of his shoulder and sat back.

“Two weeks ago,” he started, his voice rich like cream, “I took Jennifer to Bainbridge Island.”

Oh yes. Jennifer. The main reason why sucking his face would be oh-so inappropriate. I sat further back still.

“I actually had to move there from New York at the end of high school to live with…well, anyway, needless to say I had never gone back there since I moved. But Jenn was insisting that we at least pay the place a visit since she had heard there were a few trendy wineries popping up here and there. It’s all about the f*cking trends.”

I nodded, eager to know more about him.

He continued. “Finally, I just gave up and told her we would go for a day trip. The weather was gorgeous and it had been f*cking fabulous until this last week. And yeah, there were a lot of bad memories still locked up and lurking around different corners but I felt like I was close to putting that part of my past all behind me and moving forward. As we all hope to do. So, Jenn decides she wants to get some gelato at this busy new store, even though I know she’s going to start regretting it and throwing up in the bathroom after she eats it. She’s lactose intolerant and uses it as an excuse to binge and purge. You know, an acceptable form of bulimia. I hope you don’t subscribe to that bullshit.”

He wagged his finger at me. I shook my head adamantly.

“Anyway, she goes and waits in this retardedly long lineup for pansy-ass ice cream, because that’s all gelato is, so I decide to occupy myself and take a wander down by the docks. If there is anything I can’t stand it’s waiting for people. Keep that in mind, Perry.

“Yes, where was I? Oh. Yes. So, I walk down to the docks. It’s a gorgeous day, and people are milling about doing their usual tourist thing. I’m watching a middle-aged couple getting ready to leave in their sweet sailboat when I see something out of the corner of my eye. Someone has sidled up next to me.

“Now, I love making inappropriate banter with strangers; I seriously do. But on this particular day I don’t feel like talking to anyone. So, I ignore this person who’s standing beside me. I probably did this for about three minutes or so, long enough for the boat I was watching to motor away. Finally, I just can’t take it anymore. For an instant I even think it’s probably someone looking the other way. Fascinating how we always assume things revolve around us.

“But I was right to begin with. I see this old lady standing beside me, staring right at me. She is exactly as you have described. Right down to the lipstick on the teeth. She was also wearing something highly inappropriate. So much so that later on when I described what I saw to Jenn, I was shocked that she hadn’t seen her. How could you not see an old lady wearing Dame Edna makeup and a gown ripped straight off of Bette Davis’s dead body?”

Dex’s tale was creating shivers up my spine.

“And...what happened?” I asked, enthralled. I was suddenly very glad we were close to each other in this car. I was about ready to jump into his arms.

He cleared his throat. “Well. I don’t know. We must have stood there for some time, though maybe it was just a few seconds. Her smile was so…omniscient. I couldn’t think of what to do or say. And the funniest thing was that she seemed oddly familiar. She said some stuff to me that…well, she seemed to know everything about me. She said...”

His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands. A lock of hair fell forward again. I waited for him to continue, not wanting to pry since the topic seemed to be more than personal.

“Basically, she said that I’d find someone who could help me find what I was looking for. Someone who would help me get closure. Then she started to leave. For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to run after her, as slowly as she was moving. I could only ask ‘Who?’ She told me exactly this ‘You will find her in the lighthouse.’ And then she went around the corner and was gone.”

“You didn’t go after her?”

He shook his head, the white of his eyes showing clearly. “I couldn’t. All I could think was that I had to get back to Jenn. I didn’t want to see that woman again.”

“But she knew all that stuff about you, that no one else would know!” I cried out.

“I know,” he said. “But I didn’t want to know how she knew.”

“The lighthouse,” I mused.

“Well, it didn’t make much sense to me until later when I came across…well, you. And it still didn’t make any sense, at least at the time. But…”

He looked at me with a tinge of yearning. Maybe it was amazement. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see.

“Anyway, I knew I had to get you on board with my idea, no matter what.” >

“You told the twins that it was your boss’s idea and you that were just doing what ‘the man’ says,” I pointed out, still annoyed over that revelation last night.

“I lied,” he said simply.

“Why?”

“Because sometimes I lie, Perry. We all lie, even you, but not everyone is brave enough to admit it.”

I wasn’t satisfied with that unsettling answer. I knew it would only serve to make me second guess everything he did and said now, but I ignored it and urged him to continue.

“So you wanted me because I was the lighthouse lady?”

“At first. And then it made me realize that perhaps it was a sign that I was on the right track. That this was the time to finally break away from Wine Babes and get something started on my own. Wine Babes was always Jenn and Jimmy’s idea…I was only brought on at a later date when the last cameraman quit.”

“Well,” I said and sat back against my seat. I wasn’t sure what to make of this now.

“Well,” he agreed. We sat there in silence for a few moments. Finally, I had to ask.

“And then you saw her. Just now in the diner. What did she say to you that made you freak out like that?”

His eyes flashed with fear. He fixed them on me. They held me there.

“I’d rather not say. Basically...” He sighed and started to chew on his lip. I watched him intently to make sure he didn’t draw blood again. “She basically said that this was only the beginning. And that we had to finish what we started.”

“And what do you think that means?” I asked.

He ignored me. “Did she say anything to you?”

I felt that if I told him what she said, if there was some truth to it, which I believed there was, it would only put him on the spot. But, unlike Dex, I couldn’t lie. He would know.

“She said that you’d tell me what happened to you. Whatever that means. And that I had to watch you.” I left out the part about being cut from the same cloth. That notion was too ridiculous to even mention. And kind of insulting.

“Watch me? For what?” He asked, almost uninterested.

“I don’t know. She’s some creepy clown lady.”

He managed a smile and stared at his fingernails. “Yes. She is. But she knows us. She knows both of us.”

“She knows you,” I pointed out. “I only saw her once before this and now she only talked about you.”

“She mentioned you, too,” he admitted casually.

My heart flitted a beat. I felt he was about to say something damning, though I had no idea what that could be. She knew something deep, dark and secret about Dex. What deep, dark and secret thing could she know about me?

“What did she say?”

“She said that I needed to take care of you. That you needed me. And that I had to keep an eye on you.” He laughed at that last part. “I think she was implying that you could be dangerous.”

Me? Dangerous? I gave Dex a wildly bewildered look to amplify the doubt and confusion that I was feeling.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said calmly. “I can see it.”

“See what?”

“I told you that you scared me, didn’t I?” He looked me in the eye for a second and then looked away.

Even though I had taken stunt lessons to feel powerful, to feel dangerous, what he just said chilled me to the core. I knew I could be vaguely dangerous with a hooking block, but to have this older, stronger, weirder man tell me he was scared of me...well that wasn’t right. I wasn’t like that.

“I’m five foot two and as sweet as a mouse,” I said defensively.

He pursed his lips and raised his brow. “You are short. And I know you can be sweet when you want to be. But there are different kinds of dangerous, kiddo. I’m just going to leave it at that.”

I had the need to vindicate myself and show him how sweet I could be. But perhaps that’s what he was talking about. I suddenly found myself doubting my very nature.

“Hey,” he said and pressed his index finger in between my brows, smoothing out the furrow that must have been there. “It’s OK. I’m a big boy. I’ll watch out for you if you’ll watch out for me. Deal?”

His finger felt hot against my forehead, melting into it like a knife into a warmed block of butter.

“Deal.” I smiled, shyly. He removed his finger and looked wistful.

“What now?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you think this all means?”

“Again, I wish I knew. But I think we are meant to find out.”

“Meant to? Like fate?” Dex didn’t strike me as someone who put too much stock into fate.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I think you agree that this is much bigger than the both of us. That woman. What’s happening to you. These aren’t just coincidences. Things are happening for a reason.”

“Be that as it may, I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do about it.”

“I think you do. You said so earlier.”

Did I? I exhaled loudly and watched the rain patter on the window. It was slowing down and the sky was lighting up a shade or two. It was hard to believe it was just ten a.m. It had only been twenty-four hours since Dex had picked me up from my parents, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Yes, I guess I did know what I—we—had to do. The only thing that seemed right. Go back to the lighthouse one more time while we were still out here. Film the crap out of that thing. Get it done and get out. Alive.

I didn’t add that last word for effect, even though I got goose bumps as I thought it. Something told me that going back this time would be a lot different. A lot bigger. A lot more terrifying. If we went back to the lighthouse, something would definitely go down. There was too much buildup, too many feelings for it not to. The woman told Dex that we weren’t finished yet; call me crazy, but I was inclined to believe her.

“When the woman talked to you in the diner, did anyone else notice her?” I asked curiously.

He thought a moment then shook his head. “I honestly didn’t notice. I thought I saw the waitress give her a strange look, which would mean the lady is in fact real. You know, not a ghost. If that’s what you’re asking. But I can’t be sure.”

“She’s either real or she’s not. If she’s not real, she’s a ghost.”

“She could be something we are both imagining.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I think we’d have to share a conscience if it were. I’m not big on fringe science, though maybe I should start looking into it. Take a community college course on it. They have paraphysics at ITT Tech, right?”

His smile stretched lazily across his face. It pleased me to see the color had returned and his eyes were calmer, pliable. I felt calmer too, just knowing that we were both in this together.

“So, then I guess the only thing left to do is to go back and try again. Today,” I announced, newly determined.

“Tonight,” was his rebuttal.

“All logic and rational thought points to a daytime visit,” I argued.

“You know nothing is going to happen during the day.”

“No, I don’t know that. You don’t know that. Crazy crap happens all the time in the daylight. And it’ll be so much easier to catch on film.”

“Exactly! It would be easier, hence why nothing will happen during the day. Don’t you ever wonder why no one has gotten flat-out photographic proof of a ghost? Because they can’t be seen that way.”

“Is that your theory?”

“Yes. And it’s a good one. Ghosts, the paranormal, weird shit. There is never solid proof because whatever we are hunting refuses to be captured. They refuse to be seen by everyone. They exist enough to lure us in and seduce us but in the end will never give us anything solid. It’s like...ghost law. Didn’t you see Beetlejuice?”

“Uh huh,” I said slowly. Though an awesome film, I had no idea what he was getting at.

“They got in shit for letting themselves be photographed. I don’t think that’s too far off. Plus, I think the energies can only be picked up by certain types of people, say people like you. And, well, it just makes for more suspenseful filmmaking.”

“I thought you didn’t believe there were ghosts...”

“I lie. Remember?”

Oh, right.

“What if we go just as it gets dark?” I proposed, trying to compromise on behalf of my chickenshit nerves.

“Because seven p.m. isn’t as scary as two a.m.?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me. Then we can head back to Portland as soon as it’s over. You do have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

I nodded. I did have work. I had that meeting and had almost forgotten about it. I didn’t want to go into the meeting looking and feeling like hell, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice.

That being said, of course I did have a choice. I could call the whole thing off and forget about it. Get on with my life. But I didn’t want to get on with my life, not the life that I left behind in Portland. Even with the promise of a promotion in the wings, I couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were. It was unnerving, horrifying at times, to feel like your grasp on reality was loosening, to be dealing with things that were way beyond anything you understood about life and death. And yet it was so enthralling.

Somehow, by dealing with the dead, I had never felt so alive.

And having Dex at my side helped too. In fact, I don’t think I would be able to go on if it wasn’t for him. Somehow he made the dreams, the scares, the unknown, all bearable. And now, after talking to him in this cold, rain-beaten car parked on the side of the coastal highway, I felt I was one step better to understanding him.

Well, one step with a million more to go. But still.

He sat back in his seat properly and put on the seat belt. He adjusted his jacket and gave me a smile that made me weak at the knees. I was glad I was sitting down.

“Shall we head back to your uncle’s place and plan this thing properly?”

I smiled and nodded. Not so much at what he just said, though. I nodded to myself, realizing that as I was getting to know Dex better, I needed to be on my guard. Regardless of evil curses, Old Roddy, or Creepy Clown Lady, falling for this man would be the scariest thing of all.