The Haunting of Blackwood House (2 page)

BOOK: The Haunting of Blackwood House
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“Okay,” Breathless Jenny said. “I’ll be there as quick as I can, honey. Have a safe drive, now.”

The call ended, and Neil pulled the car back onto the road. Mara struggled to find the best way to phrase her thoughts, but Neil broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get the house you wanted. I know you’re disappointed, but even if this new place isn’t a good fit, we’ll figure something out.”

Mara finally raised her eyes. Neil’s face held none of the distance or hostility she’d been dreading. Instead, he looked anxious. He kept shooting her glances as he did a three-point turn. She felt her throat tighten and muttered, before she lost her courage, “I’m sorry I snapped. You were being really generous, but—”

“I know.” His warm smile was back. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Independence is important to you. I get that. In fact, I kinda like it.”

Mara leaned over the seats’ divider to rest her head against his shoulder. She could feel his muscles shift when he turned the steering wheel, and he smelt like herbs and sawdust. She never would have expected that combination to smell as good as it did on him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Neil took the opportunity to kiss the top of Mara’s head. Then he added, in a breathless tone, “
Honey
.”

Mara broke into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my gosh. I swear, if she calls me
honey
one more time—”

CHAPTER THREE: Blackwood House

“Language,” Neil said gently.

“Oh. Excuse me.
Holy crap
. Is that better?”

Neil chuckled. They’d parked in what was supposedly Blackwood House’s driveway, but Mara was struggling to believe it was real. Her savings would have been enough for a decent-sized apartment or a one-bedroom house with a tiny yard if she was lucky. But Blackwood was huge. She counted ten windows on its two floors, plus it seemed to have an attic. It was almost large enough to be a modest hotel.
Jenny must have made a mistake. There’s no way this is within my budget, no matter how many serial killers you put in it.

Jenny hadn’t been exaggerating when she said it would need some work, though. The house looked as though it might not have seen human habitation in decades. The dark-grey wood was sagging in places, and the roof was missing patches of shingles.

The house sat at the end of a very long lane. They hadn’t passed any other buildings in the last ten minutes of the drive, which Mara found surprising. It wasn’t far enough from the town to be a serious impediment, but the environment made her feel entirely isolated.

The area was heavily wooded with thin, tall trees. Mara glimpsed a tight, curved treeline at the edge of the backyard. The trunks were all a deep slate grey, which she guessed might have been the inspiration for the house’s name.

“So,” Mara said. “How about we do some exploring?”

“You don’t think we should wait for Jenny?”

“Nah.” Mara gave Neil a grin. He grinned back and opened his door. Together, they followed the narrow pebble path towards the building’s front door. Half-dead weeds grew high on either side and pushed through the small white rocks below their feet. Tiny insects flicked away with every step. Mara was thankful she’d worn her long jeans instead of her shorts.

The building looked increasingly grim as they moved closer. A mix of desiccated, torn cobwebs and fresh webs hung about the awning. Half of the windows had cracked panes, and the other half were entirely broken. Lichen and moss grew across the house’s wooden front and clung to the closest trees.

Mara jogged up the stairs to the porch and peered through one of the windows. The room beyond was dim and murky thanks to the dirty glass, but she could see the outline of a large armchair. “I think this place is furnished.”

“It can’t be in good condition,” Neil said, looking through the window next to her. “But there might be some salvageable stuff.”

Mara followed the porch to the door. She expected it to be locked, but to her surprise, the handle turned with a painful screech. The door drifted inwards, and Mara had the impression that she’d broken a seal. The air that came through the opening smelt heavy and musty and cold.

The windows had built up too much grime to let much natural sunlight in, making the inside seem washed out. Mara stepped over the threshold and found herself in a large entry room. A staircase ran up the back wall, and archways stood to her left and right, opening into a dining room and sitting room respectively. There didn’t seem to be any light switches.

Mara moved into the sitting room. She’d been right; it was furnished though the viability of the pieces was dubious. Two moth-eaten, mildewy armchairs sat beside the empty fireplace. A rocking chair rested under the window. Mara nudged it with her foot, and it creaked painfully as it rolled back on its struts. A badly decayed cross-stitch piece hung on one wall, blue-and-pink flowers surrounding the words “Home is Where the Heart Is.” Mara wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

She walked into the dining room and found Neil standing at the table. His lips were set in an unhappy firmness, and she moved forward to see what had disturbed him.

The dining table had five sets of plates laid out, and three serving trays sat in its centre. Some of the cutlery was propped on the plates’ edges as though the occupants had been interrupted in the middle of a meal. The setting was covered in dust, and there were dark stains—dried sauces or decayed vegetables, Mara thought—next to the shrivelled, leathered lumps that were barely identifiable as meat. One of the glasses had shattered, and its shards were scattered across the off-white tablecloth.

“Wow,” Mara whispered, leaning closer to inspect the dehydrated food. “It’s like their meal was disturbed and they never came back.”

Neil made a vaguely unhappy noise in the back of his throat, and when Mara reached forward to poke one of the dried lumps, he grabbed her hand. “Don’t
touch
it!”

“Why? I’m pretty sure they’re not going to finish it.”

“Mara,” Neil hissed, trying to choke back his anxious laughter.

“Okay, okay. Let’s check out the rest of the place. I can’t believe the house’s owners just…
left
stuff like this, though. No wonder they can’t sell the building.”

Neil hadn’t released his hold on Mara’s hand, and she didn’t try to pull free. She liked the way his fingers felt. They were rough and calloused from woodworking and delightfully strong. The juxtaposition between Neil’s intimidating physical attributes and his kitten-sweet personality always gave her a thrill.

She led him towards the stairs at the back of the entry room. The wood groaned under their feet, and Mara paused after the fourth step. “This isn’t going to collapse, is it?”

Neil bounced on the step experimentally. “It shouldn’t. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the structure; it’s just old wood.”

“Good.” Mara kept climbing, pausing again at the halfway point to clear a cobweb out of their path. The top of the stairs opened onto a long hallway with multiple doors opening in each direction. Mara tried the first and found a fully decorated bedroom. She scrunched her nose at the sight of a multitude of dead moths littering the floor. “How long since anyone’s lived here?”

“It would have to be a while.” Neil let go of her hand to open the wardrobe door. A half-dozen moths fluttered out, and he waved them away. “I’d say at least a decade.”

Mara went to the window. It overlooked the backyard—or what was left of it. The forest behind the house was gradually taking it over. Weeds grew so high that she thought they would reach her waist. Small trees poked through the lawn, and shrubs clustered around what might have once been a stone bench. The clearing was a decent size, though.
Large enough to hold vegetable gardens and a patio
.

“Any idea how far those woods go?” Mara asked.

“Probably a fair way.” Neil sounded distracted, and Mara turned. He stood facing the door. His fingers drifted over a cluster of marks on the wood, then he withdrew his hand as though he’d been burnt. He stepped away from the door, his nostrils flaring and a tight scowl on his forehead. “There’s blood in these scores.”

“Huh?” She nudged him out of the way and bent close to the door. There were long scratches in the wood. The white paint had clearly been cleaned, but tiny flecks of something dark remained in the notches.

She turned back to Neil, who was running his thumbs over his short fingernails. His lips were set in a tight line.

“What? You think someone was locked in this room and tried to claw their way out?”

He didn’t answer, so Mara took his hand to stop the anxious motion. “Come on. It’s a weird house, and it’s making you nervous. These marks were probably made by a dog, and the black flecks are dirt they couldn’t scrub out.”

“Probably.” Neil nudged the door open with his foot, and Mara had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t trust her theory. “Did you want to see more of the house?”

“Hell yes.” Mara followed the hallway and looked into each room she passed. Some were bare, and others were fully furnished. One had an antique, rusted crib below the window, with a dead-eyed doll propped in its corner.

This is really a magnificent building. Why’s it been empty for so long? A killer called it home for four years, but there’s got to be more wrong than just that, surely.

Mara turned and found Neil waiting for her in the doorway. “Hey, Neil, what do you know about the guy who lived here?”

“Robert Kant? Not much. In the early 1900s, there was a spate of disappearances—mostly children—in this area that was eventually attributed to Kant. He’s a bit of a local legend.”

“Jenny said he lived here for the last four years of his life. Do you think he killed anyone in this house?”

Neil’s smile looked forced. “Probably. Maybe. I think I heard that one of his intended victims escaped and gave away his location to the police. That
could
have been this house.”

“Huh.” Mara turned back to the cot.

“Darling, sweetheart, light of my life—why the questions?”

“I just want to know why no one’s bought the place. I can imagine it being empty for a few years. But this long? What’s wrong with it?” Mara bent to pick the doll up, but a screech of tyres interrupted her. She peered through the window and saw Breathless Jenny climbing out of her hot-pink car.

“C’mon,” Mara said. “We’d better go meet Jenny before she breaks her neck. I can’t believe she’s wearing high heels to visit a house like this.”

CHAPTER FOUR: Offers

They made it to the front door as Jenny neared the end of the pathway. As Mara had predicted, the plump, middle-aged woman was fighting a losing battle to keep her shoes stable on the white stones. For once, she had an excuse to be breathless when she greeted them. “Oh, there you are, honey. And you, uh, found a way into the house.”

“Door was unlocked.” Mara extended her hand to shake Jenny’s then moved aside so Neil could do the same. She couldn’t help but notice that Neil received a far warmer smile.

“Well, that’s… it’s meant to be locked… well. You got a head start on the inspection. That’s good.”

Jenny looked as though she would dearly like to sit down but was going to great pains to avoid touching the cobwebbed wood. She tugged on the front of her blouse to fan the fabric as she fixed a plastic smile to her face. “Bit muggy today, huh? All right. So, this is the Blackwood house. It was built in the late eighteen hundreds by a woodcutter. As you can see, it’s held up remarkably well for its age.”

A lone shingle, unable to cling to its precarious perch any longer, slid off the edge of the roof and crashed onto the driveway behind them. Jenny pretended not to notice.

“I know you’re eager to settle on a house quickly, honey. I’m told the plumbing still works—the last owners redid it—but there’s no electricity, I’m afraid. Though you have a magnificent fireplace to keep you warm at night, and of course, it has excellent insulation.”

Mara glanced upward at the multiple gaping holes in the roof. It took a great deal of self-control to bite her tongue.

“And I know being
plugged in
is important for you young folks. You’ll be happy to know that Blackwood House has excellent compatibility with the Internets.”

“Oh my gosh,” Mara murmured just loud enough that Neil could hear her. He smothered a smile as he squeezed her hand.

Breathless Jenny had fished her phone out of her pocket to demonstrate and frowned at the lack of service bars. “Ah—that is—it’s
usually
compatible. The Internets are probably having some power issues today.”


Oh my gosh
,” Mara repeated. Neil squeezed her hand harder.

Jenny put her phone away with a nervous chuckle. “It was working last time I was here. Though that
was
a while ago. But I’m sure you can find someone to install some extra Internets if you need them.”

Mara was speechless. Neil cleared his throat to keep Jenny from noticing the incredulous, enthralled look on Mara’s face. “You said the last owners redid the plumbing. How long ago was that?”

“Well, let’s see now… I suppose it would be a little over twenty years ago.”

Neil whistled. “It’s been empty a while.”

“Yes, well, honey…” Jenny’s eyes darted towards the house, and Mara caught a flicker of anxiety in them. “The… the
deaths
, you know? It’s not… that is…” She collected herself and continued in a bright voice. “But it’s perfect for a young couple like yourselves. There’s plenty of room for a nice big family.”

“So, Robert Kant did kill people here,” Mara said.

Jenny’s smile faltered. “E-excuse me?”

“You said there were deaths here. How many?”

“Oh, well.” Jenny fished a crumpled contract out of her pocket and used it to fan herself. “Awfully muggy today, isn’t it? And I, uh, believe there were six victims. Plus one who got away.”

“Were they all children?” Mara took a half step closer, and Jenny impulsively stepped backwards.

“W-well, I’m sure we could look up the d-details for you, if you’re really—”

Jenny trailed off, and Mara let the silence extend until it was uncomfortable.

“Not all,” Jenny said at last, fanning herself so quickly that the contract flapped uselessly. “The first was the house’s original owner. Then… Kant killed three boys and two girls. All under fifteen. The last… intended victim managed to escape and notify police.”

“Six victims in four years,” Mara mused, glancing back at the house. “And you said Robert Kant was hung?”

Neil took mercy on their sweating realtor. “He hung himself before the police reached him,” he murmured. “Sweetheart, this is a tiny bit morbid. We can look up the details later if you like.”

“No, that’s okay. Just to clarify, after he killed the house’s original owner, Kant moved into the house? And no one knew?”

Jenny looked nauseous, but she nodded.

“Wow. It was a really different time back then, huh?” Mara’s brain was buzzing. She crossed her arms as she regarded the building. Six murders, plus the killer’s own demise, would explain the house’s low price. She’d still have to hire an inspector to check for further issues, but it was no longer impossible to imagine why no one would buy the building.

That’s nothing to deter me, though. It’s just bricks and wood. Yes, people died here—and yes,
children
died here—but people have expired in almost every old house in the country. A building’s history doesn’t damage its future potential as a home.

“How much?” she asked.

Jenny, caught off guard, stopped fanning herself. “Pardon, honey?”

“How much is the house?”

“You—uh, well, the asking price is significantly less than your budget. And the owner is open to negotiations, too.”

Mara gestured towards the lawn in front of them. “And what land comes with the property?”

Jenny’s mascara was starting to bleed as sweat ran into her eyes, but she managed to maintain a staunch smile. “I can get the exact survey records for you at the office, but it’s a bit over four acres. It extends down the driveway and a little into the woods behind the house.”

“Great, thanks. Can we have another look around?”

“Absolutely, honey.” Jenny jiggled the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. She blinked at it. “Did you lock the door behind yourself?”

Mara and Neil glanced at each other and shook their heads.

“Oh… how odd. Well, it was supposed to be locked anyway. Hang on a second, honey.” Jenny fished a rusted metal key out of her pocket and fit it into the handle. The lock scraped open, and Jenny pushed the door inwards then stepped back so Mara and Neil could go ahead of her.

Mara caught a glimpse of Jenny’s trembling, manicured fingers.
She really hates this house, huh?
“It really is quite muggy,” she said as she passed Jenny. “Would you like to stay outside, where there’s a breeze? Neil and I can have a look around ourselves.”

This time the smile was genuine. “Oh, sure thing, honey. Take as much time as you like.”

The door creaked closed behind them, sealing out the quiet hum of insects and the rustling trees. Mara took a deep breath and swivelled to face Neil. “Well, what do you think?”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re actually considering this place?”

“You’re not?” She laughed. “This is halfway to a mansion for the price of a condo. Four acres! It’s surrounded by trees, too. You’re always saying I should be healthier. Trees are healthy.”

“You really don’t mind the building? The history doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all.” Mara shrugged. “You know I’m not superstitious. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Neil. I know it’s miles bigger than I actually need, but am I really going to turn it down in favour of some poky two-room apartment?”

Neil shook his head, but a broad smile had grown over his face. “You’re remarkable, Mara. Okay, let me have a look around and make sure this place isn’t about to collapse on us.”

Mara spent the following half hour drifting from room to room as Neil kicked the walls and opened cupboards. Every few minutes, he made a stifled noise of revulsion as his search turned up dead mice and cockroaches.

The more she saw of the building, the more enthralled Mara found herself. It had an almost magnetic charm. Even the flaws—the warping wood, the crooked cupboard doors, and the old-fashioned furniture—added to its appeal. She could feel her pulse jumping as she rubbed her fingers over the dusty bannister.
My house. Yes, that feels right, somehow… this is
my
house.

Neil, coated in dust, came through the dining room entrance. He brushed his hands on his pants. “Okay. The basic structure seems solid. There’s some wood rot, but really, it’s far better than I would have expected. Can’t find any sign of termites, but you’ll probably want an expert to check anyway. I haven’t looked at the roof. Based on what we saw outside, I’m guessing it would need a fair bit of work. But I can’t find any major deal breakers.”

Mara’s heart thundered. A giddy, foolish smile bubbled up inside of her until she couldn’t contain it any longer. “Neil, I think I’m going to buy this house.”

“You’re going to buy this house?”

“I’m going to buy this house!” She threw herself at Neil. He caught her up and twirled her around as though she weighed nothing. She was breathing too hard to return his kiss properly, and pretty soon they were both laughing.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.” Neil gave her a final, firm hug then placed her back on the floor. “It’ll need a lot of work to be liveable, but we can fix it up over the next few months.”

“We?” Mara echoed.

Neil snorted and brushed loose strands of hair off her forehead. “I’m not about to leave you to deal with this mess yourself. Joel won’t mind if I cut back my hours a bit, and I can bring tools from work for when we need them.”

Mara hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s a big job, and I can’t pay you—”

“Nepotism makes the world go around, sweetheart. Let me do this for you. If it makes you feel better, you can call it your birthday present.” When Mara hesitated, Neil stooped to her level and smiled into her eyes. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to spend some more time with you. And that’s all I really want.”

“Fine, fine, all right.” Mara pulled Neil close to kiss him. His lips were warm and pliant, and she felt him relax against her as she tangled her hands in his hair. It was a delicious sensation. She pulled back reluctantly. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Neil was grinning. “Want to go break the news to our poor realtor?”

“Hah, yeah. This place really freaks her out. She deserves the commission.”

BOOK: The Haunting of Blackwood House
9.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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