Rhayven House (4 page)

~ ~ ~

     Ian resolved not to mention anything about the house to his buddy, Toby. Not just yet. He’d decided he would meditate, while chanting the
Ganesh
mantra, and concentrate on removing any obstacles standing between him and the house.
Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha!

     He and Tobias Slazek had been friends since their early in school. Toby was a year older and had been a grade ahead, but that hadn’t stopped the two from becoming fast friends; they’d remained close despite going to different colleges and Ian moving to Coventon. Thankfully, they lived close enough to have visits.

     Toby wanted Ian to come over, saying he'd gotten him a cake for his birthday and couldn't wait to see the look on Ian's face when he laid eyes on it. Ian had to admit the cake, which was beautifully done to look just like a honey-toned spirit board with black letters and numbers, and even an intricate celestial design at each of the four corners, took his breath away.
Yes
,
No
,
Hello
, and
Goodbye
were spelled out in black icing. The whole cake just looked like a genuine spirit board and Ian was very impressed. And it felt good to know his friend remembered.

     “I knew you would appreciate it. There's even a planchette.” Toby pointed to the triangular object with an aperture in the center through which one could see the letter or number over which the planchette hovered. “Do you think we could use this cake to really communicate with spirits?” he asked, half in jest.

     “It looks so real, we might be able to,” Ian admitted, “But I'd rather just cut into it and eat it.” He peered at his friend. “Is it red velvet?”

     “You know it is, complete with butter cream frosting, not cream cheese, and all vegan” Toby promised. “She really did a great job.”

     Ian couldn't have been happier as he accepted the big knife his friend held out to him and sliced into the spirit board cake. He'd never attempt to use a real board, but he'd certainly cut up a cake one and eat a couple pieces.

     “Wow, I didn't think it would be this good,” Toby said around a mouthful. “Hurry up and take a bite.”

     Ian did as he was told, and he had to agree; the cake was probably the best he'd ever tasted and he said so. He also wanted to know where the bakery was in case he wanted more goodies. “Where did you get it?”

     “I'll never tell. It'll stay my secret.” Toby reached for another piece; he froze before he picked it up. “Tell me you took pictures before we started eating it.”

     Ian nodded. “I have about a dozen. You didn't think I'd cut up this masterpiece without preserving at least one image for posterity.”

     “Good. But we really should have taken one of you blowing out the candles, pal.”

     Looking at his friend, Ian said, “You didn't have any candles on the cake for me to blow out.”

     Toby thought for a second and then he grinned, “You're right. Why count the years when you're gonna live
für immer
.” He took another bite of cake. He chewed, swallowed, and then said, “Maybe next year I'll get you a Cthulhu cake, complete with kick-ass tentacles worthy of the Great Old One.

     “Hey,” Toby continued on a tangent. “I got one for you. Did you know there is a little island in Italy where it's estimated more than one hundred thousand people have died over the centuries? It has several plague pits, it was used as a quarantine for ships heading to Venice, and at one point terminally ill people with infectious diseases were housed on it it was also once home to a mental asylum.”

     “Poveglia Island.” Ian grinned as he forked up a piece of cake. “Reputed to be so haunted by the spirits of those who died there, the Italian government doesn't like people going to the island.”

     “Damn. You always already know all the cool shit,” Toby whined. Sobering, he asked, “Do you remember the time you dragged me off to that psychic fair and we had those photographs taken?”

     “Kirlian photography.”

     “Whatever happened to those?”

     “I have them. Framed. In the bathroom.” Pointing his fork at his friend, Ian said, “You see them every time you come over.”

     “Oh.”

Three

     The letter came in the mail a little more than a week later. It arrived a lot sooner than he thought it would. Holding it in his hands, he didn’t know if he wanted to open it or throw it away, in case it was bad news. If it said the answer was “no,” he’d be heartbroken, not to mention homicidal. Steeling his nerves, he ripped the envelop open and read the letter.

     If he’d worn a cowboy hat, he’d have whipped it off his head, slapped it against his thigh, and whooped it up to celebrate. Obviously, there hadn’t been any problems and he was grateful.

     Now came the hard part. After signing the final papers, there would be the ordeal of getting the contractors to look at the house and submit their estimates.. Good thing there were online sites for that kind of thing because otherwise he wouldn’t know where to begin.

     But first he had to make an appointment to go down to city hall again and sign the final paperwork. Once that was done, then he could shift his reno plan into high gear.

~ ~ ~

     Within two weeks Ian had the paperwork finalized and a few written estimates from local contractors in his hands. As he’d suspected, the old bones of the house were still in good shape. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief.

     The estimates stated the house required all new wiring, the plumbing needed updated, and the roof and windows needed replaced. The original doors were fine but the glass would need replaced. Most of the other stuff that had looked so bad to him turned out to be cosmetic. For instance, the hardwood floors needed sanded, stained, and sealed with a couple coats of polyurethane. The electrician was confident his team, barring major natural disaster, could be in and out, completing the update within a week. However, seeing the estimated cost for electrical work alone at $11,000 stunned him more than he wanted to admit, but it had to be done to bring it up to code.

     “Maybe the best solution is to burn it down, scatter the ashes, and salt the earth,” Ian said after getting the breakdown on what needed to be fixed and updated on the house. He turned the page of the estimate and stared at the nice, round figure with all the zeros.

     But then again, he got the house for a steal. Even adding in the cost of renovation, it didn’t add up to more than what he would pay for a house in ready-to-move-in condition. So that was a balm. And when he sold his townhouse, then he’d be flush once more and could start working on the house again.

     There was always his royalties. It wasn’t as if he’d be destitute, not with a new book coming out.

     He’d soon get the house done to the point he could move in and be comfortable, and then he’d continue the renovation on the remainder, room by room. That way he’d be able to move in sooner and save himself from depleting his bank account too much until his townhouse sold. Which theoretically shouldn’t be too difficult, if he kept his fingers and his legs crossed and didn’t whistle into the wind.

     Tapping the end of the pencil on his desk, he took a deep breath. Hell, he’d already bought the house so there were only two possible solutions: Let the house continue to rot or start the renovation. All the estimates had come in with close to the same figures and information. The sooner he started, the sooner any headaches would be eased. He’d done his research and found the companies that seemed to be the most reliable and knew what they were doing. Now all that remained was to pick one. Reaching for his phone, he called his buddy, Toby. He wanted to hear his friend’s opinion.

     “You’re nuts,” Toby informed his friend, just as Ian predicted. “Why would you want to spend all the time and money when you have a decent house now?”

     “Because this house is perfect and in the perfect location,” Ian said for what felt like the fifteenth time in the conversation. “Very private and out of the way.”

     “As if I could talk you out of doing it.”

     “You want to come out for a visit and see it? Get the ‘before’ impression?”

     “Am I going to regret it? I don’t want you driving me out to see a house with a caved in roof and missing a wall and some floors,” Toby said.

     “Hey now. It’s not in that bad of shape.”

     Ian heard Toby inhale and slowly exhale.

     “You okay?” he asked his friend.

     “Yep. I know you’re excited about this and I don’t want to have to be the guy to tell you the house you bought is a big pile of shit,” Toby said.

     “I appreciate you thinking about my feelings, but it’s a nice house. You’ll see the potential. Just say you’ll come out for the weekend or something.”

     “You already bought the damned place and now you’ll be out there where no one will hear you scream when the giant ants come for you like in that old cinematic masterpiece,
Empire of the Ants
.”

     “Now listen to who’s talking about a big pile of shit.”

     Toby laughed. “The ants will indoctrinate you and you’ll be doing their will without even realizing it.”

     Ian couldn't help grinning. “Is that all you do, sit up half the night watching bad movies?”

     “This coming from the guy who writes schlock horror stories,” Toby said. “And remember, I’m quoting from your own description.”

     “It pays the bills and gets me nominated for some awards, so how can I bitch, piss, or moan about it?” Ian switched the phone to his other ear. “Are you coming or what, pal?”

     “Next weekend work for you?”

     It made Ian smile to hear it. It had been too long since they’d gotten together. “I’ll make sure to get some of those chocolate cookies you inhale when you’re here.”

     “That’s right. Spend some of the money you made from the Japanese monster movie script you wrote.”

     “
Curse of the Komodo
. You know I didn’t tell many people about that,” Ian reminded his friend.

     “Be proud. Shout it from the rooftop.”

     “The check cleared and paid for my townhouse.” For a couple seconds, Ian debated whether or not to share a tidbit of good news with his friend and then decided to go for it. “And they want me to turn it into a trilogy.”

     “Great news. Congratulations. Do we get to go to Japan for a big red carpet premiere?”

     “Doesn’t exactly work like that. I wrote it under a pseudonym. I’m not ashamed of it but I want to keep it separate from the books.”

     Toby said he understood and they soon went back to talking about the visit and the house for a while.

     “
Kiss of the Komodo
and
Cult of the Komodo
could pay for a lot of work on the house.” Then Ian said, “I need to get off here and do some actual work so I can keep paying for this house. Royalties from another new book would go a long way towards fixing more rooms.”

     “Do what you have to do, pal, but I say write the movies,” Toby said, and then he said goodbye and hung up.

~ ~ ~

     Disjointed thoughts pooled together before flaring up into a full-blown maelstrom in Ian’s dreams. Every fear he had about the renovation came into existence and was magnified sevenfold.

     When he woke up, he thought he might puke. Closing his eyes, he counted a dozen slow, deep breaths to calm down and stop the spinning. Running a hand over his face and pressing fingers to his temple, he told himself it wasn’t a tumor or aneurysm about to explode and obliterate his brain. It was just concern over the house and he told himself to stop being so full of nerves. It was normal to be a little nervous since he’d never undertaken the renovation of a house before.

     Still, he felt like an utter lunatic. Maybe it was the influence of the moon.

     Or maybe he was in the midst of a panic attack. Ian didn’t know because he’d never had one.

     The clock numbers said 3
AM
. Wasn’t that the time when a lot of the alien abductions were alleged to occur? And why the hell was he freaking himself out by suddenly thinking of alien abductions?

     Served him right for staying up and watching a mini-marathon of
Unsealed: Alien Files
instead of going to bed. Normally, he wasn’t too interested in the subject of aliens. Sure, he’d read all of the
Communion
books by Whitley Strieber and found them mildly entertaining, but mostly fantastical, and not necessarily in the good way. At least until he started watching the show and got sucked in by the deep, dark eyes of the Gray alien they kept showing. He wanted to name him Harold. And before he knew it, he’d watched five of the half hour shows and there was only one left in the mini-marathon. Ian felt like he’d be gypping himself if he didn’t watch it, especially since it was about the Grays and the Reptilians.

     Ian got out of bed and walked to the window. Looking out through the glass and up into the obsidian sky, he tried to convince himself he wasn’t looking for a mysterious craft hovering in the night sky. He couldn’t see much anyway because the streetlamps were on in full bright glory. They illuminated the night, pushing the dark back where it belonged.

    
Damn
, he was really in a strange mood tonight and he thought about making good use of it by going into his office and trying to write a few pages. Strike while the creative muse was singing her song of inspiration, or get through a few pages of edits. Either way it would be a win.

     Then he got a case of the yawns and figured he’d better haul his ass back to bed and try to get some sleep. Anything he wrote he was bound to delete in the morning anyway.

     He crawled back under the covers, punched the pillow a couple times, laid his head down, and closed his eyes. Instead of fading peacefully back into sleep, his mind filled with the theme music and that announcer guy’s voice from the alien show asking all kinds of questions.

     Instead of sleeping, he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, at the shadows cast by the light from the streetlamps coming through the windows.

     Times like these made Ian fervently wished he drank. Maybe he could sit up under the blanket and read one of the
Mushroom Planet
books by flashlight, like he did when he was a kid. Maybe then he could go to sleep and dream of his own journey to the little inhabited moon
Basidium
, home of the
Mycetians
.

    
Cowboy up
, he told himself as he closed his eyes.
Cowboy up.