Too late—the guard’s shoulders jerk up to his ears. His chin juts out, and the rest of his head tilts backward. His eyes go wide. He bites his own tongue and a sliver of spit shoots across the kitchen. The motion of his jaw snapping at his tongue creates a sickening “Hyulp.”
The cell phone slips from the guard’s hand. It hits his shoe before clattering across the floor. His knees soften as his body collapses to the floor, revealing a slender block of wood adhered to his skull. I spot the nail head sticking out of his cranium.
Tobias stares at the guard, his sunken chest heaving so fast it looks like his rib cage is about to sprout branches. He leans over and grabs the two-by-four as the man’s body convulses. He tugs, but the block of wood won’t pull free, the nail so deeply embedded in the man’s skull. He has to plant a foot on the guard’s shoulder for leverage, really putting his weight into it, and yank back hard. As he works, I notice fresh lacerations carved into Tobias’s arms. Blood seeps through his shirt. The flesh above his chest is branded with the same symbol I’ve seen in the house.
The nail finally loosens. It only takes another couple of pumps—left, right, splck—before he drops the two-by-four on the floor, sending an arc of blood through the air.
The rent-a-cop stops convulsing and his body goes limp, one arm under his chest, the other flung over his back.
“Help me,” I hear Tobias say from somewhere far off, but I can’t move. My attention is on the fresh blood weeping from the sigils etched into his flesh.
“Silas,” I hear myself moan. “Silas, please…make this stop…”
“Erin.”
“Silas…Where are you?”
“Shut up and open the basement door!”
Tobias clambers over the body and flosses his arms through the rent-a-cop’s, cradling him.
“The door.” Tobias grunts as he reaches out for me. In his hand is a key. The basement—he wants me to unlock the basement door. All I have to do is move, one foot in front of the other, make my way across the kitchen, and slip the key—
“Hurry.”
The padlock unlatches with a single tug. Cool air brushes against my cheeks as soon as I open the door, but it’s the smell that stops me in my tracks. The rotten milk aroma has only grown stronger since the last time I stood here, staring down into the abyss. The basement now has a fetid cheese stench. Something is fermenting below. I gag at the smell of it. I think I’m going to be sick—
“Stand back.” Tobias does his best to drag the rent-a-cop over, leaving long streaks of blood on the linoleum.
I move away from the door. I have to press my palm against my mouth to keep from retching as Tobias drags the guard closer. He clumsily maneuvers around the man’s bulk, stepping into the basement to align the limp body with the doorway.
It’s stuck—the guard’s limb catches on something. One of his sleeves must’ve snagged.
“His arm,” Tobias says. “Free his arm.”
I lean over and rip the fabric of his sleeve free but when I pull back, I can see his eyes are open.
I scream, falling backward and landing on the floor. I try to stand up but I slip on his warm blood. As I scramble away from the cop, my hand hits hard plastic.
The cell phone.
Tobias grabs the guard’s shoulders, yanks him back in a single fluid motion, and sends him toppling down the basement steps. I hear a sickening crack as his body hits the basement floor.
Tobias is hyperventilating. “Fuck. Fuck. What the hell happened?”
“He—” I start. “He just came in—”
Tobias catches his breath, leaning against the doorway. He peers down into the darkness. “Stay there. I’ll deal with this. Don’t come down!”
His footsteps echo down the stairs.
“…Tobias?”
No answer.
“Toby?”
Now’s my chance—I grab the rent-a-cop’s phone. Still unlocked, thank god. My fingers are soaked in blood and I’m fingerpainting the screen red as I try dialing a number, any number.
Amara. I can dial her number from memory.
I force myself to steady my breathing as it rings. I can’t stop my wrists from shaking. She’s not going to pick up. She won’t recognize the number.
Please pick up pick up pick up—
If it goes to voicemail, I’m dead.
Pick up pick up pick—
“Hello?” Amara’s voice reaches out from the other end of the line and I can’t keep myself from crying, the sudden lifeline of her words sending me into sobs of relief.
“Amara?! Amara, it’s me, it’s Erin, please, please help—”
“Erin? Slow down. Where are you?”
“Amara, please, I need you—”
I suddenly hear metal rattling, like the chains on a cartoon ghost.
Keys, not chains—it’s the security guard’s keys, rattling in the basement. Tobias storms up the steps, taking them two at a time. He grabs the phone from my hand and throws it against the floor. He brings his foot down once, twice, shattering the screen beneath his heel.
“What’re you doing?!” Tobias seizes my shoulders and shakes me so hard, I feel like my neck might snap. “Who are you talking to?”
“Nobody…I didn’t…”
Tobias’s eyes bore into me. “Do you ever want to see Silas again? Do you?”
“Yes!”
“Take these.” Tobias drops the ring of keys into my hand. They’re so wet. So red.
“Erin? Erin. Are you listening?”
I nod, slowly, unable to say a word, as I stare at my hands. My hands covered in blood.
“Get into his car and drive it away.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Just away from here. Do you understand?”
He wants me to step outside the house. Into the open. With them. “I—I can’t.”
“Erin. You need to do this. The police will come looking for him and we can’t have that. We control the guest list in this house. They can’t know he was here. Do you understand?”
I’m barely holding on to the words. They sound so far away.
“Erin. Erin. If you want to see Silas, you’ll do this. But if you run away or try contacting someone else, you’ll never—ever—see him again. Do you understand? Do you understand?”
I must nod, because Tobias grabs the basement door and slams it shut so hard a current of air rushes against my cheeks.
I’m alone in the kitchen. My hands tremble so much, the keys start jingling again, chains rattling all around. I hear the scraping of tiny fingers from the other side of the drywall. There’s a breach in the plaster and I spot a flash of pale skin. A face with no eyes: just a mouth, wailing. Sweet little Lonnie is disappointed in me. Now I know how my mother must’ve felt all these years.
* * *
—
The first revenant I spot in the yard is carrying a baby. The two are adrift on our lawn, vacantly staring, as if they’re waiting for the rapture to whisk them away. The baby never cries. Not once.
The number of lost souls clustering in the cul-de-sac has only grown. I can’t bring myself to count them all. There are bound to be thirty, maybe more. Tobias thinks he can pluck whichever spirit he wants from the other side of the veil—depending on who’s buying—while forcing the rest of these revenants to stay outside, as if the bloody velvet rope painted across the door is enough to keep these ghosts from crashing our house party. Sorry, invited ghosts only. But they’ll find a way. I know they will.
I glance at the sigil smeared over the front door. Someone freshened it up—it’s wet now. Whose blood is it? How long will it hold?
Get in the car. That’s it, that’s all I have to do. Simple. Anyone could do it. It’s just a matter of making my way across the lawn and trying not to draw their attention.
The rent-a-cop’s Subaru Impreza is parked on the street in front of the house. The same emblem from his uniform is emblazoned on the passenger side door: TOMPKINS SECURITY.
Several revenants have gathered around the boxy car, blocking the driver’s side. There’s no way to reach the door without pushing through them.
This is my chance to escape—the keys are right here in my hand!
I’m almost free. Finally free of—
our home