The Haunting of Ashburn House (10 page)

Adrienne clawed at the air. A scream gurgled in her throat, but her lungs didn’t hold enough breath to give it form. The terror had returned, but this time it had a source.

A woman was coming. She was withered, her body twisted and malformed, her teeth like yellow stubs in black gums, her hair a river of tangles and heavy with dirt. And she was coming for Adrienne.

The room was dark. Slivers of moonlight highlighted the edges of the furniture, but the fire had crumbled and exhausted itself. Adrienne held herself still, posed awkwardly in a position that was half sitting, half lying, and tried to absorb her surroundings.

The house seemed silent at first, but the longer she listened, the more she began to pick out tiny sounds of life. The grandfather clock’s ticking, inaudible during the day, created a steady pulse. The wood contracted as it cooled in the night air, creating muffled cracking and groaning noises. She could even hear the rustle of trees outside.

Then there was a low exhalation as something moved in the shadows. Adrienne’s heart stuttered, and she opened her mouth to cry out.

The figure turned towards her, and two round, sea-green eyes caught the moonlight.
Wolfgang.
The scream died on Adrienne’s tongue, and she slumped forward, arms held around her torso, and finally gained enough control over her muscles to breathe.

It was a dream. That’s all.
She tilted her head to meet Wolfgang’s eyes and began to chuckle. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, buddy.”

Her laughter petered out. The house felt too empty and too quiet to allow for levity. Wolfgang continued to watch her for a moment then turned back to face the window. Adrienne licked at dry lips and sat back in the chair as chills began to run through her, starting at the top of her spine and working their way down her back.

She tried to remember the dream. It had felt intensely real, but within seconds of waking, the details had begun to slip away.
There was a woman
.
An old and contorted woman. And the moon was somehow important.
But every other detail fled as soon as she reached for it.

Wolfgang’s silhouette was barely visible in the gloom. He sat pin straight, bushy tail wrapped around his paws, and faced the window. That unnerved Adrienne. Her cat rarely paid attention to the outside unless he could see something moving.

It was too dark; the longer she sat, the easier it was to imagine a thousand horrors creeping through the shadows. Adrienne pushed out of the chair and felt her way through the room, running her fingers over the wallpaper as she neared the door. She touched the plastic light switch, flicked it, and felt her courage wither. The light didn’t turn on.

Did the bulb blow? Jayne wouldn’t have cut power to the house, would she?

The black was pressing against her, weighing her down like a thick blanket. Adrienne made her way across the room to the fireplace and knelt on the rug ahead of it. She found the newspaper with trembling fingers and wadded up several sheets, placed them in the cooling ash, then ran her fingertips across the mantel until she found the box of matches.

The first match broke when she tried to strike it, so she threw it into the fireplace. The second flared nicely. She touched the flame to the newspaper and released her breath when it caught and the blaze began to grow.

She turned towards the kindling bucket, and her heart dropped. It was empty except for a few small twigs; she’d forgotten she’d used the last of the kindling for the previous night’s fire.

“Crap.” She dropped the twigs onto the newspaper, but it was clear they wouldn’t be enough to catch any of the larger logs. She watched as the flames licked the sticks, converting them into ash, and her malformed fire died before it had a chance to live.

Adrienne turned. Instead of chasing away the dark, the fire had made her blind; when she’d first woken, her night-adjusted eyes had been able to pick out shapes in the moonlight, but now she couldn’t see anything.

There’s the lamp in the hallway.
Adrienne’s chest was tight, and she rose carefully.
As long as I can find it and light it.

She thought she saw a flicker of motion in the room’s corner.
Wolfgang?
The moon was nearing full, but the windows’ grime smothered its glow. She crossed the room, hands held ahead of her to guide her way through the furniture, and touched the door.

The handle felt stiff, as though it hadn’t been used in a century. It whined when she turned it, and Adrienne slipped through the opening.

With the two small windows on side of the front door providing the only light, the hallway was even darker than the lounge room. She was closer to the entryway than to the staircase, so Adrienne moved to the door first and felt for the light switch. It turned, but the light stayed dead.

The whole house is affected, then.

On the other side of the door, just past Adrienne’s reach, the porch’s boards groaned. They were shifting as though a person moved across them. Adrienne squeezed her lips together, her heartbeat staccato, and tried to banish the idea of company prowling just outside.

She turned to face the hallway and retraced her steps towards the stairs, waving her arms ahead of her as though swimming through air. Floorboards creaked with every step. Her ragged breathing quickened to match the clock’s tempo.
Tick, tick, breathe. Tick, tick, breathe.

Adrienne hit the bannister and grunted. It had passed between her waving arms and bumped her firmly enough to bruise, and she held onto it for a moment as she regained her bearings.

The lamp was on the table to the right of the stairs. There were matches beside it.

She felt towards the table, moving slowly for fear of knocking the lamp over and smashing its glass, but touched the table’s edge first. She ran her fingers along the hand-stitched cloth—tacky from old dust—then found the bronze holder. It took several agonizing moments to remove the glass then another minute to find the small cardboard box, remove a match, and strike it.

The light, although small, was an intense relief. She touched it to the wick, waited for the tiny flame to stabilise, then replaced the glass.

It was easier to breathe once she had light. The lamp’s glow didn’t extend far; a few precious feet surrounding Adrienne were illuminated, but its effect diminished the farther it stretched, and the front door was still heavy with shadows.

Something outside the door moved.

Adrienne jolted backwards. The lamp flickered, but its light held. She stared at the two small windows set on either side of the front entrance, her eyes skipping between them as she searched for motion. She could have sworn she’d seen a dark figure shift behind the glass as it moved along the porch.

I heard the floorboards groan earlier too.

Fear returned, curling like a cold serpent through her stomach. Someone was outside.

Her first instinct was to run for help, but no help existed. She had no phone. She had no mother. It was just Adrienne and whoever or whatever lingered outside.

“Crap.” She mouthed rather than spoke the word.
Is the door locked? No, I don’t think it is. What about the back door? I can’t even remember where to go to find it.
“Crap!”

The choice was terrible. If she stayed where she was, the stranger could break into the house through any of its entry points: not just the doors but also multiple unlocked windows. She wouldn’t even know which direction to face to defend herself. But her heart shrivelled at the idea of confronting the person outside.

Don’t be weak.
She took a step towards the front door.
Whoever’s out there won’t go away unless you make them.
Another two stumbling steps. She kept her eyes shifting between the narrow windows, searching for motion, but outside was dark and still.

It might have just been a trick of the light.
She reached towards the doorknob with one hand and held the lamp high above her head with the other.
The flame might have reflected off the glass oddly and given the illusion of motion.

She touched the bronze handle. Squeezed it. Twisted it. The sound of grinding metal strummed on her taut nerves. Then she released the handle, raised one foot, and kicked the door open.

There was motion. Fear and panic blurred Adrienne’s vision; she tried to catch a glimpse of the moving shape, but it was gone before she could fix on it. It had crashed into the woods, disappearing amongst the thick black trees, and its footsteps were already fading from the cold night air.

Adrienne took a long, slow breath, light held high, as she stared at the point where the figure had disappeared. The bushes rocked from the disruption and gradually fell still. Silence returned to Ashburn. And logic slowly crept back into Adrienne’s mind.

Beth had said children dared each other to approach the house. It was a test of bravery to see who could get closest to the porch or linger there the longest before fear forced them back to the woods. And with a new owner in the house, those dares were undoubtedly being passed around with fresh enthusiasm.

Adrienne looked upwards. The moon, just a few days away from being full, was clear and bright. It was well after midnight but still a few hours before dawn. Whichever child had braved the Ashburn ghosts was also risking their parents’ wrath.

She turned back to the forest and scanned its edge again. The lamplight didn’t quite reach the trees, but she could see that the shrubs and weedy vines were still except for where the breeze tugged at them. Adrienne tried to tell herself that the intruder wouldn’t be coming back.

She locked the door behind her then methodically moved through each downstairs room, making sure the windows and the back door were locked before finally settling back into the lounge room.

Wolfgang had returned to dozing on the rug. Without the fire, he’d curled into a compact bundle with his tail tucked around his head. Adrienne placed the lamp, still lit, and the bottle of refill oil onto the round table. She propped the fire poker at her chair’s side then sat, wrapped her jacket about herself, and waited for dawn.

Adrienne was cold and stiff by the time morning spread its golden light over the treetops. Wolfgang had moved to her lap in the early morning. She was grateful for his presence and drew her fingers through his thick fur to reassure herself.

She’d stayed alert all night, listening for any groaning floorboards that might indicate the stranger had returned, but the only noises the house produced were when the wood shifted as it cooled.

Dawn brought relief and also a twinge of embarrassment. She felt silly for sitting up all night; the longer she thought about it, the more convinced she felt that the figure outside had been a child visiting Ashburn on a dare. She’d probably scared them just as much as they’d scared her. She could picture them backing away from the porch as the lamp’s glow grew brighter in the windows then fleeing in terror when she kicked the door open. The image almost made her laugh.

Almost.

She felt sore, tired and irritable. The stress had brought her headache back, and her limbs were numb from cold. She scratched Wolfgang’s head to wake him then carefully shifted him to the floor and went to get his breakfast.

How often is this going to happen? Am I going to have to panic over kids coming up to the house every month, every week, every night…?
She poured the kibble, replaced the tin, then extinguished the lamp’s flame. The sun wasn’t quite high enough to light the room on its own, but her eyes had adjusted so that she was no longer blind.
Honestly, I can understand Aunt Edith being a little crusty if she had to put up with this.

Adrienne shivered and returned the lamp to the table beside the stairs. Tiredness weighed on her, but she was also acutely aware of how dirty she’d become. She’d washed her hands after the race through the forest the previous evening, but little bits of dirt still clung to her clothes and her hair, and her skin was grubby with dried sweat. She trudged up the stairs, retrieved a change of clothes from her bedroom, and ran the shower.

She’d been looking forward to a scorching-hot bath, and was crushed when the water didn’t heat.
Of course—no power means no hot showers. Or cups of tea for that matter. Terrific.

She showered as quickly as she could. The icy water coupled with chilled morning air woke her up better than a litre of coffee could have, and by the time she bundled herself into her warmest clothes, she was too alert to consider going to bed.

Instead, she returned downstairs to prepare breakfast. She suspected she would need a nap come afternoon, but in the meantime, she hadn’t forgotten her resolution to go to town early. Worry for Marion continued to eat at her.

She was washing her bowl when she heard the car engine resonating as it moved up the driveway. A mixture of hope and fear sparked through her, and she dropped the washing back into the sink.

She ran down the porch and towards Jayne’s car as it drew to a halt at the top of the driveway. Jayne must have seen Adrienne’s expression because her face was scrunched into an apologetic smile when she stepped out of the car.

“I’m so sorry, Addy. I should’ve come to visit last night. It was just really late by the time I got home—I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

She looked much more collected than the day before. Her blonde hair was straightened and styled, and the red lipstick, not quite the right shade for her, shimmered in the morning light. The panicked, haunted expression was gone, and that reassured Adrienne enough that she could catch her breath and ask, “How’s Marion?”

“Fine. She’s already back home.” Jayne closed the car door. “Doctors said she had mild dehydration, mild hypothermia, and shock, but they discharged her last night.”

“Thank goodness.” Adrienne felt like a heavy, painful rock had been removed from her back. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“’Course.” Jayne gave her a bright smile, but something about it was slightly off. Adrienne was trying to identify what was wrong when Jayne turned and opened the car’s back door. “Oh, I brought you something, too.”

She pulled a large cardboard box out and held it towards Adrienne. “It was Marion’s idea. She remembered that you didn’t have any mirrors, and said you could have some of hers. I thought it was a great idea, so the rest of us—Beth, Sarah and I—all chipped in as well. If you want them.”

“Seriously? Thank you!” Adrienne took the box and was shocked by how heavy it was. She staggered under the weight and began carrying it towards Ashburn’s front porch. “This’ll save me from looking like a homeless person all the time. I mean—are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to take all your stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Jayne laughed, but the same hint of not-rightness hung in the chuckles. “They’re what we had in storage. We weren’t using them.”

“This is great. Thanks.” Adrienne dropped the box onto the porch and turned. Jayne lingered a few feet away and was peering around the clearing. “Want to come in for some tea?”

“Oh, uh, I’d love to, but—well, my parents are expecting me back so I can help them clean the house. Maybe another time?”

The tiny hints of uneasiness coalesced into an understanding. The excuse was fake. Jayne was being friendly because she felt obligated towards Adrienne because of her help the previous day, but she wasn’t comfortable lingering at Ashburn. In the same way she’d refused to bring Marion inside the house when they’d found her, she didn’t want to step any closer to the building than she absolutely had to.

That hurt Adrienne more than she would have expected. Jayne was clearly trying very hard to avoid offending her—she had even brought the mirrors as a peace offering—but her visit was out of duty and nothing more.

Why? Did I do something wrong? Is it because of what happened to Marion?

Adrienne tried to swallow the hurt and smiled. “Sure, well, you’re always welcome to visit, and hopefully I’ll see you in town sometime.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Jayne was already backing towards her car. “Give me a call if you need anything, okay?”

You know I don’t have a phone.
Adrienne felt as though she’d become trapped in a stage play where they both pretended they couldn’t see the giant elephant sitting between them. The still-young friendship was dying in front of her, and there was nothing she could do except smile as if nothing was wrong.

Jayne was halfway into the car when Adrienne remembered that her power had been turned off. She jogged towards the car, one hand raised. “Hang on, wait a moment!”

Jayne’s smile held a hint of panic as she looked up. “Yeah?”

“My lights stopped working last night.” She searched for a polite way to ask her question without sounding as if she was accusing the other woman. “Um, are there any problems with my account?”

Jayne held still for a moment, one leg inside the car and hands on the door to maintain her balance. Adrienne could almost see the mental battle being waged, then Jayne inhaled, lifted her chin, and stepped out of the car. “Not that I’ve heard about. Let’s have a quick look at your fuse box.”

“Oh, right, thanks.” Adrienne felt immensely grateful for Jayne’s response. It would have been easy for Jayne to say she couldn’t help and then leave. The friendship might not be as doomed as she’d thought.

Jayne led the way around the house. She walked quickly, arms tucked around herself and back straight, as she scanned the outside of the house. The fuse box was on the side wall, half-hidden behind scrubby weeds, and she waded through the plants to reach it. “Right. This is weird.”

Adrienne moved forward to see what Jayne was looking at. She had the box’s top open and was running her finger across the switches. “What happened?”

“All of your breakers are tripped. Did you plug in any new equipment yesterday?”

“Uh… yeah, my laptop.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Weird.” Jayne scowled at the switches. “That might have tripped one but not all of them.”

Adrienne glanced towards the forests surrounding them and cleared her throat. “There was someone outside last night.” She thought about mentioning the strange phenomenon but didn’t know how to broach it without sounding insane, so she stuck with tangible facts. “I think it might have been a kid.”

“Ugh, probably those Crowther brats.” Jayne began flicking the switches on, still scowling. “They get zero supervision from their mum, and their father basically lives at the pub. They would have thought this was a hilarious prank. If they come around again, threaten to call their dad. They don’t care about the police, but Mr Crowther terrifies them.”

“Okay. Will do.”

Jayne flipped the last switch and began walking back to the front of the house. Adrienne followed, and grinned as they passed the lounge room window. The light inside had turned on, and its glow shone through the foggy glass. “Ha, it worked! Thanks!”

“Anytime, Addy.” Jayne’s smile still held a hint of tightness, but Adrienne thought it was more genuine than earlier. “See you around, okay?”

Adrienne waited as her companion got back into the car then waved as it turned into the driveway. She kept her hand up until the car had disappeared from sight then lowered it and let her smile fade.

Something had upset Jayne enough that she didn’t want to spend any time around Ashburn. Adrienne ran through their interactions, searching for any instance when she might have inadvertently caused offense or hurt Jayne’s feelings, but she didn’t come up with anything. They’d been fine when saying goodbye after that first meeting; then when Jayne had arrived the following morning to search for her missing friend, she’d been stand-offish.

More than stand-offish.
Adrienne picked up the box of mirrors and backed through the front door.
She brought a knife.

That had been understandable, at least. Marion had gone missing after visiting a house with an awful history. Jayne would have been foolish to visit alone without any kind of protection.

But they’d found Marion, and it had been clear Adrienne wasn’t responsible for the crash. So why was Jayne still wary?

Adrienne placed the box on one of the hallway tables and began sorting through the contents. It contained nearly a dozen mirrors in various sizes and states of cleanliness.

The gift was a good sign. If Jayne’s objection had been against Adrienne herself, she wouldn’t have brought the mirrors… or even visited, for that matter. It suggested her dislike was directed towards the house, not the owner.

Maybe I can understand that. Her friend nearly died here the day after her first visit. Combined with the rumours and legends, it must have unnerved her. She might be the sort of person who doesn’t believe in coincidences.

Which meant the friendship might be salvaged with a little time and hard work. Adrienne hoped it could, at least.

Wolfgang sat on the lowest step of the stairs, and the tip of his tail twitched as he watched his owner.

“How about it, buddy?” She held up one of the larger, cleaner mirrors for him to see. “Reckon we’re ready to abolish the no-mirrors rule?”