 
## **Contents**

Title Page

Ch. 1 - Tepid Reception

Ch. 2 - Nestling In

Ch. 3 - Unsettling Inn

Ch. 4 - First Guests

Ch. 5 - Rumors and Secrets

Ch. 6 - Introductions Are In Order

Ch. 7 - Ideas and Idioms

Ch. 8 - Distractions

Ch. 9 - Research and Development

Ch. 10 - Beneath the Ground

Ch. 11 - Exploration

Ch. 12 - For What Price

Ch. 13 - Panic: Rinse and Repeat

Ch. 14 - Celebrating the Times

Ch. 15 - Desecration

Ch. 16 - An End to Adventure?

Acknowledgments
HAWTHORN INN (THE CATALYST #1)

Copyright © 2014 by Heidi Willard

Smashwords edition

*****

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Other Books by Heidi Willard

The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1)

Blood Guardians (Blood Guardians #1)

Plagued Sleep (Blood Guardians #2)

Weathering Tides (Blood Guardians #3)

Freed Souls (Blood Guardians #4)

Hawthorn Inn (The Catalyst #1)

Sanctuary (The Catalyst #2)

Ghost Woods (The Catalyst #3)

Chimes of Midnight (The Catalyst #4)

Beneath the Valley (The Catalyst #5)

Chapter 1

Tepid Reception

"You damn crazy driver!" the woman screamed as she toppled to the hard ground in a heap of dress and purse.

The small, sleepy town of Sanctuary was awoken with a start at her yelling as the people on the street turned to look at the scene. One of their oldest and most prominent members was struggling to her feet after the near miss with a black car that was even now speeding away. Her name was Gertrude Grover, lately of the ground and now in a foul mood.

"Damn tourists!" she hollered. She shook her fist at her would-be assassin.

The long, black nineteen thirties-era Mercedes Benz seemed unaware of her presence as it sped off down the long road leading through the center of town. Gertrude, past her prime by a few years but still full of spirit, was livid with anger as a few of the onlookers laughed aloud. Most, though, seeing that she was okay, went back to their errands and chores. The residents of the quiet town nestled against the foothills of the Appalachian Mountain range were too practical to stop their work and soothe the woman's injured pride.

"Of all the insolence," Gertrude muttered as she brushed herself off. She'd fallen against the side of the paved street, and now her clothes were covered in a thin layer of light brown earth. "Damn tourists think they can run over anyone if they feel like it," she grumbled to herself as she moved with a quick step onto the sidewalk. Gertrude's small brown eyes showed a shrewdness denoting a stern gruffness beneath her withered exterior.

"That's an interesting color of dress, Gerty," an old acquaintance laughed. The other old woman sat on the porch's bench in front of the general store. "Trying it out for this fall?" She cackled at her own joke.

"You know perfectly well what happened, Amelia," Gertrude scolded as she took her usual spot beside her old friend. Every afternoon on many fall days they'd sat and talked about the good old days and how much their small town had changed. She'd been heading toward the said bench before the near miss with the car. "I damn well nearly got killed and here you all are laughing at me," she pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Amelia was about Gertrude's age and height, but their personalities were like day and night. Her soft blue eyes showed a natural humor complimented by a love of the long life she'd led. Her patience was unbelievable and her laughter infectious. Even her old friend's gruff attitude was no match for her teasing attentions as Gertrude's frown softened, though not by much.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Amelia replied as she put a comforting hand over her friend's shoulders. "After all, you're not dead," she pointed out.

"Well, some days I'm not so sure that's such a good thing," her companion moodily argued as she pushed her friend's hand away. She opened her mouth to spout more depressing words, but her eyes suddenly widened. She leaned forward in her chair and blinked against the glare of the twilight sun. Her gaze followed the homicidal car. "They didn't stop," Gerty spoke in whispered awe.

"Well, they missed you, didn't they?" Amelia joked with a hearty guffaw.

"Not that, you idiot!" her friend snapped as she pointed at the cloud of dust that followed the fast vehicle. Amelia followed the direction where Gertrude's finger pointed. "They've gone towards the inn!"

Hawthorn Inn stood atop a hill of hewn rocks that overlooked the small community. It had been built during the town's founding, and once boasted famous visitors and a lucrative business. Over the last half century, however, the inn had fallen on hard times and now stood devoid of life. The town had been trying to acquire ownership in the hopes of making it into a museum, but the previous owners had demanded more money than the community could pull together.

"My God, they have," Amelia marveled. She eagerly glanced over to her friend. "Then do you know who they are, Gerty? You were on the committee to try to buy it."

Gertrude opened her mouth to comment and then promptly shut it hard enough to hear her false teeth clatter together. She scowled and leaned back in her chair.

"No, I don't," she sulked. "We didn't know anyone else was looking at it."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Amelia loudly exclaimed with a comically shocked look on her face. A few of the regulars outside the store perked up their ears. "You talked with the Olsens all the time," she playfully argued as she dramatically threw her hands up in the air. The name of the previous owners only seemed to rile her friend further, and Amelia poked her grumpy partner with a bony finger. "You were such good friends with them, you should know who they sold it to." Out of the corners of her eyes she looked teasingly disappointed in her gossipy companion.

"Well, I don't!" Gertrude shot back. She crossed her arms over her chest in a perfect picture of insult. The wrinkles around her eyes creased as a pout appeared on the edge of her lips. "They didn't tell me or anyone else anything about their plans for that place, and you know perfectly well why not!" she stammered out.

"Well, maybe if you wouldn't have been so mean to them," her partner scolded. Amelia wagged a finger in Gertrude's direction.

"They deserved it after insulting my pie," Gerty shot back with narrowed eyes. "I should have poisoned it, then they really would have had something to complain about," she added with an emphatic nod.

"Well, foo,"  Amelia sulked as she slumped back into her seat. The sky mimicked her mood as gray clouds loomed overhead. "Well, someone has to know who they are," she mused in a whispered tone.

"That Mr. Merchan might know," Gertrude vaguely suggested in a bitter tone. She waved her hand in the general direction of his whereabouts. "He's the one who was selling it, remember?"

"That's the ticket, Gerty!" Amelia shouted as she bounced back to her feet. She had enough energy for a person half her age. "Come on, maybe that old land farmer can tell us something!" Amelia grabbed her friend's worn hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Not so hard!" her companion complained.

She was unceremoniously dragged across the street to the local real estate agent's office just a block off the main road. The town was small enough that no destination was ever far off.

The duo's entrance was announced by a simple bell above the door as they practically fell into the tiny office. The area was generally clean except for the papers and maps that littered the desk, behind which sat the proprietor of the establishment. His trade, though lucrative, didn't require the need of a secretary.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise, ladies," Mr. Merchan greeted, and he stood to his feet. "What brings you to my business?"

"We want answers, Mr. Merchan," Gertrude briskly demanded. She wriggled her way out of Amelia's grasp and walked over to his desk.

"Well, can I know the question first?" he joked as he held out his hands in defense.

"Who bought the old inn?" Amelia interrogated. She loomed over the desk with her wrinkled hands eagerly stroking one another in a greedy fashion.

"Well, I don't know much about them myself, ladies," he confessed as he sat back in his chair. The wide, old desk did little to distance himself from those inquisitive crones. "They bought the place from the Olsens and moved here from out west somewhere. Utah, I think."

"Oh, maybe they're Mormons, Gerty!" Amelia exclaimed as she clapped her hands together. In her long life she'd hardly left the region around the town, and any new diversion for her was always welcomed. "And we can hear some stories about the West."

"I don't care if they have an Indian in their trunk, they are not getting any of my new neighbor pie," Gertrude huffed.

"Well, they seemed awful nice to me, Mrs. Grover," the real estate agent confessed. "The lady even asked about hiring on some of our kids for work, and she seemed excited when I told her about my Stephanie."

"Well, I'll have you know your new customers nearly ran me down!" Gerty exclaimed as she waved her arms in the air. "What kind of a business are you running when you take on those types of people?"

"Lucrative, I'd say, considering they paid in full with cash," Mr. Merchan replied. He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands in his lap, content with his dealings.

"Cash? All of it?" Amelia gasped, and she looked to Gertrude. "But weren't the Olsons asking a lot of money?"

"I don't care how much money they have," Gerty huffed as her brows furrowed together. She slammed her hand down on the desk, frightening both her companion and Mr. Merchan. "Them and their money be damned if they can come in here and go running everyone over with their fancy car!"

With her breath spent and her anger fuming, Gertrude stormed out of the agency with a shocked Amelia in tow. Mr. Merchan watched them go with a sigh as he put his feet up on his desk.

"Those two old bats need to learn to mind their own business," he mused as he began rocking in his chair.

"Which ones, dad?" a voice asked, and a girl came out of the back of the small office. She held a magazine in her hands and was rifling through the pages. "There's a lot around here, you know."

"The usual two, Steph," Mr. Merchan replied as he smiled at his only child. The teenager was loudly chewing her gum, her hair was dyed a wild shade of purple, and her arms were well covered in tattoos, but he thought she was the most perfect specimen in the world. "Oh, and I may have found you a part-time job, honey," he announced with evident satisfaction. He was the type of man to pat himself on the back at any supposed pleasure to his child.

"Where?" Stephanie questioned as she paused in her chewing to peruse her dad's face. Her brows came down and she coiled the magazine into a roll. "It better not be flipping burgers again," she threatened.

"No, not this time, darling," he comforted as he stood to his feet with his arms wide open. "I've talked to the new owners of the old inn, and they thought it would be a wonderful idea to have you as their front desk receptionist."

Stephanie winced and her jaw moved to the side like a cow pausing in chewing its cud. Her eyes looked through her long bangs with an expression of disbelief.

"You want me to be a secretary?" she asked as she slowly resumed her gum chewing.

"Well, not exactly, honey," Mr. Merchan replied in a sweet tone with a wide, coaxing grin. "More like a greeter," he explained as he rubbed his chin. In his biased eyes she would have been qualified for any job, but this was a good start.

"So now I'm a Walmart employee?" Stephanie snapped back. The magazine twisted in her hands. "You really need to stop helping me, dad," she growled.

"Now listen here, young lady," her father sternly scolded as he frowned at his angel. Sometimes he wondered if she needed more focus in life. "This will mean meeting new people who may help you later on," he suggested in an airy tone. "The new owner has big plans for the place and I'm sure she's going to invite wealthy patrons to come visit."

The opportunity to rub elbows with wealthy boys soothed her anger, and Stephanie's hands loosened their grip on the pages. She blew a bubble and it exploded with a loud pop before she sucked it back into her mouth with a disgusting slurp. Maybe she'd find one who'd want to make her into a trophy wife.

"I guess that sounds worth it," she admitted as she gave a wide grin through her pink lipstick.

Mr. Merchan returned her smile with one of his own, but his eyes were fixed on the newly signed papers atop his desk. The name Erikson stood out along the dotted lines, and that got him wondering at the inn's new proprietors. He reached down and tapped the name on the second line, the one used as collateral should the deal fall through.

"Strange spelling," he mused as he looked at the elegant signature. "And what a strange family," he added as he looked out the window to the darkening day.

Night was now falling fast as mothers gathered their children from the yards of neighbors and streetlights flickered on to scatter the shadows.
Chapter 2

Nestling In

Above the quiet town stood its oddity and claim to prestige, Hawthorn Inn.

The great building seemed to grow from the rocky foundation as its peaked roof reached into the sky. Roughly hewn long boards mixed with granite arches and created a montage to all the trees and rocks in the surrounding fields and woods. Tall windows dotted the front as they looked out upon the town like unblinking eyes. A large chimney rose above all else, its aged stones blackened with old fires and forgotten memories of visitors long since past. A gravel path hewn from the stone of the hill wrapped itself around the entrance doors. Those fine doors were fashioned of finished cherry wood and lay at the center of the facade. The exterior path followed the outside walls on either side of the building and lost itself around the corners beneath the shadows of wild arbors and tall bushes.

Rot, however, had invaded the grounds as dead branches mixed grotesquely among the living. The large yard on the left side of the structure showed tall, unkept grass which waved wildly against the smallest breeze. The ancient wood of the walls was cracked and the caulking between the stone arches crumbled at the slightest touch. The great roof of the inn dipped beneath the strain of countless storms and patches of shingles had fallen. They lay in forlorn piles at the foot of the walls.

A long line of trees, namesakes for the inn, sheltered the road beneath their gnarled branches. The black car sped along the dirt road leading up to the inn. The headlights of the dark vehicle crested the hill out from the shadowed road and followed the drive around a circular loop. The car slowed to a stop in front of the entrance and the engine was shut off. The air was quiet for only a moment before the front passenger door was flung open.

A woman of slight build and just shy of middle age stepped angrily out of the vehicle. Her short dark hair blew freely in the gusty breeze as her boots clapped against the uneven ground of the parking area. Her face, worn with cares but still vibrant with a plain beauty, was now red and her brown eyes flashed as she scowled down at the driver.

She was Emily Erikson, the new proprietor of the Hawthorn Inn and she was in a foul mood.

"What the hell were you thinking back there!" she exclaimed as she flung her arms over her head. "I don't care if you want to drive your own car, you could have killed her!"

The rear passenger door opened and a boy of fourteen emerged. He huddled in his coat against the cool wind. His bright blue eyes glanced over the old trees and ancient structure with a mixture of apprehension and interest. The boy's own dark black hair blew against his heavy glasses and his sneakers made a dull sound against the dirt. He roughly closed his door and winced when the sound echoed across the silence of the inn parking lot.

"Creepy," he mumbled. He looked up at the silhouette of the roof against the dark sky.

The final person to emerge from the vehicle, and the focus of the woman's ire, was the driver, an older gentleman well past his prime. His features, however, made an exact date uncertain. Short, black hair peeked out from beneath a battered black fedora. His figure was slim and his skin was pale. His eyes, covered with large glasses that wrapped around the sides of his face, looked forward and seemed to follow the same path as the boy's own gaze. His dark suit over a heavy trench coat whipped against the wind and he appeared to ignore the woman's scolding.

"Dad, are you listening to me?" the woman yelled. She walked around the car and stopped before his impassive figure. "You almost ran down one of our new neighbors!" she explained, and she prodded a finger into his chest.

"She's still alive," was the blunt response.

"That's not the point!" his daughter countered as she clenched her teeth. "You just can't go trying to kill people for jaywalking!" She waved her hand down toward the car seat. "And why the hell doesn't this thing have seatbelts? Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"Hey, mom?" the boy interrupted.

"What is it, Jack?" his mother sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she looked to her son. Her father was completely unfazed by her efforts to shame him.

"Can I go look around?" he asked. He noticed the side paths leading around the inn, and his curiosity was piqued. "Just for a sec?"

"Not until we get these bags in," she sighed. The haggled mother leaned inside the car and pulled out a small suitcase. "We can leave them in the lobby for now so I can test out the light switches."

"All right," Jack agreed as he took out his own small bag and shut the door.

"I guess you can just leave the car here, dad," she informed him. She waved her hand toward a small, empty parking lot to the left of the circular driveway. "You can park it over there later when the movers come." He didn't even acknowledge her words. Rather, he shut his door and looked off into the darkness beside the inn. "Impossible to deal with..." she muttered as she turned her attention to the front of the structure.

With light from the waxing moon overhead, the inn stood tall against the darkness of the mountains. The imperfections of the day vanished amidst night's kind blanket of shadows as the night softened crack and crevice. The inn silently waited and its tall windows looked down upon its visitors.

"A little run down, but pretty much what I expected," she nodded with satisfaction. The wind tossed her short hair playfully about her face. "But at least we have until the spring opening to fix any of those big and small problems." She turned toward her son. "Ready for a look, Jack?" she asked as she held up a pair of keys and jingled the chain.

"Sure," he agreed.

Mother and son left the grandfather by the car and walked up to the front door. They both held their breath as she put a key into the lock and jimmied the old handle a bit before they heard the latch lift.

"Dang old keys..." she grumbled. "I wish Mr. Merchan would have had a better set for us." She turned the knob and pushed open the door.

A stream of light behind them stretched out into the dark room and allowed them only a glimpse of wooden floors patched with large rugs. Mrs. Erikson stepped inside the dark space and fumbled in to the left of the door looking for the light switch. Jack came in behind his parent and heard an exclamation of success from her shadow. Then the lights suddenly flickered, and he let out a whistle.

The room was awash with light that streamed down from an elegant chandelier hung high above the floor. Hundreds of crystals arranged in stepped rows revealed every secret of every dark corner. The smooth wooden panels along the walls, with marks and scuffs speaking of great age and past times, showed off their cherry tree heritage. Here and there the empty wall was broken by the heads of animals from around the area, shot, bagged, stuffed and put on display for visitors. The paned windows shut out the rest of the world and their soft white curtains brushed against cushioned benches. The seats beckoned for a visitor to look out of the windows and marvel at the wild beauty outside their frames.

The interiors of the front doors, though plain and weathered outside, were intricately carved with scenes of forests and hunting parties intermingled with vines. Deer sped from their pursuers as hounds nipped at their heels while in another panel a man worked at his woodshop carving the very doors. The source of the chimney outside was a large granite fireplace that had been built against the right wall. The wide mantel hearkened back to feasts of deer and wild boar cooked over the spit as the laughter and cheers of revelers looked on. The massive width of the flume narrowed as it vanished into the large wooden ceiling beams above their heads. A simple, worn photograph stood atop the mantel, and even in the light one couldn't make out the figures in the aged portrait.

A pair of plain doors to the left and right of the fireplace wall led to the east wing rooms, but their worn paint and heavy locks upon the handles spoke of abandonment. On the opposite wall stood another pair of doors that showed more use as they stood on their well-oiled hinges and polished handles. Against the far back wall were the final wooden doors leading to the two back rooms of the inn.

The magnificence of the room, however, revolved around the grand staircase that stretched out from the center back wall. Two separate flights of carpeted, hardwood stairs curved upward from a central meeting point at the ground floor. Their oak banisters wound along the length of the steps on both sides of the stairs, and framework and support met at the top of a large, railed landing. Two hallways branched off in opposing directions from the landing and disappeared around the corners of the upstairs front wall.

Between the two imposing staircases, nestled in a tall alcove, stood a large grandfather clock. The intricate woodwork and shining clean face stood out from the plain paneled walls as the old timer solemnly looked upon them. Jack was mesmerized by the long pendulum, trapped in the glass case, as it swung in a hypnotic rhythm to the unstoppable march of time.

"It's a little different than how I remember it," Mrs. Erikson reminisced as she gazed up at the ceiling. "You know, from when your father and I visited."

"What?" Jack asked as he was shaken from his stupor. "Oh, yeah, I know, mom," he softly acknowledged as he nodded his head.

His parents had met when both had been on winter holiday at the inn some twenty years ago. It had been a long dream of his mom's to buy the place, fix it up and make a home for themselves along with a comfortable living. Now they were going to attempt to live her dream, but they were going to have to do it without his dad.

"I don't remember all these dead animals," she commented. She took a short walk into the center of the lobby. "And someone's changed the carpeting," she added in disgust as she scuffed her shoe against the floor. "It used to be such a nice flowery design, not this plain brown."

"Maybe the other people wanted to attract hunters?" Jack suggested as he shrugged his shoulders.

"That does seem to be what they tried. There's some pretty big game around here," she agreed. She playfully scowled at the heads staring at her. "But enough of that." She turned back to their plans and walked back to the front of the room. "If you're going to explore, you'd better take one of these," she informed, and she took a flashlight from her back. "I thought we might have needed them for getting around the place, but it looks like the electricity is working just fine."

"Thanks, mom," Jack replied.

Just then the clock against the far wall chimed the hour of five, calling everyone to look in awe as those hands showed the time. The deep gongs echoed through the cold, silent room and caused them all to pause. It was as if the whole world stopped to listen to those imposing notes. They didn't move until the last chime had died away.

"Loud, isn't it?" his mom whispered, as though too afraid to break the silence.

"Yeah," he agreed. He tested his flashlight and was glad to find it worked.

"Don't stay out there too long. I don't want to have to meet all the neighbors in a search party," his mom advised.

"I just wanna look around a little," he assured her.

Jack slipped out front entrance before she could change her mind. He closed the door behind himself and clicked on the flashlight. The first thing he noticed was his grandfather had disappeared, but he was much more interested in exploring the grounds than in worrying about his elderly relation. To his right lay endless possibilities of exploration, and Jack stepped his way carefully along the stone path. He passed by several darkened windows before he reached the corner of the inn, and stopped to look around. A wall of bushes lay to his right, so thick the moon overhead couldn't penetrate their depths. Their branches had been trained to wrap above latticed arches woven using the branches of the hawthorn trees. Many of the arches had rotted away, but the plants still bent to their will and covered the path in a deep shadow.

He shined his flashlight down the path leading along the parking lot and found the hedge traveled a few dozen yards from the inn and was only stopped by the encroaching woods. If he wanted to keep his word to his mom and not wander too far, he would need to follow the path before him. He pointed the light from his flashlight down the dark walk along the wall. His bespectacled eyes could just make out the faint light of the moon at the end of the path.

"Kinda creepy," he admitted to himself. The small wind blew up the walk and whipped at his clothes. He straightened and braced himself for any scares. "Well, here goes nothing."

Jack kept to the center of the path and his footsteps rang loudly upon the roughly hewn stone. His flashlight caught shadows of loose branches from the old bushes and jagged rocks protruding from the walls of the inn. His coat brushed against the sills of the window frames and all was quiet.

Unconsciously Jack found he had quickened his pace as the darkness became oppressive. His eyes were stuck fast to the freedom at the end of the tunnel as his breathing quickened. His ears caught the slightest hint of a noise behind him. He paused and turned around. The beam from his flashlight shook a little as he tried to find the source of his fear. Nothing presented itself, however, and he gave a shaky sigh of relief.

"Come on, Jack, just a rabbit or something," he scolded himself.

He resumed his hurried pace and nearly burst through the stifling hedge into a surprising view.

Beyond him lay a large, open field which spilled down a sloped hillside. Tall grass waved against the breeze and late-blooming wild flowers dotted the hill. The old forest beyond the inn circled the meadow as the mountains beyond the trees filled the sky like silent sentinels. Here and there in the grass stood an ancient tree or jagged outcropping of rock.

The row of bushes he followed stopped at the back corner of the inn and the stone path was replaced by a newer patio. The concrete patio stretched out to the right and covered the entire rear wall of the building. Flower pots and small, decorative bushes were arranged along the wall and a few ancient, overturned lounge chairs stood in front of a pair of French doors. Those doors were the back entrance to the inn, and he knew from the layout that they led into the dining hall.

Jack squinted when he noticed an old structure with a peaked roof situated not more than a hundred yards from the patio. There was an old dirt path which started from the patio and led down to the building. His curious feet took him in that direction and he turned his torch onto the path to see the way through the deep grass which bent down over the trail. After a few yards he realized the structure he was heading for was an old gazebo, and his quick steps allowed him to reach the enclosure in good time. There Jack found only disappoint. The wood beams to be half-rotted and the rails which ran around five of the six sides ready to fall off. The crestfallen dead flowers in their weed-infested beds surrounded the decrepit structure, and mirrored his own disappointment as he stopped before the stone steps leading beneath the roof. He wasn't sure whether the old wood of the floor would support his weight, so he carefully tested the wood by kicking at one of the boards.

"Don't do that," a voice behind him ordered.

In his shock Jack jumped into the air and dropped his flashlight on the ground. He turned around to discover his grandfather standing not more than two feet from him. The older man's face was fixed straight ahead at the gazebo, but the boy had a feeling his eyes were on him.

"Damn it, grandpa! Don't do that!" he scolded. He clutched his chest and reached down to pick up his light. The glass on the front had broken when it hit the ground. It was useless.

"You sound like your mother," his grandfather dryly commented. He walked past the frightened boy and stepped up into the gazebo.

"Well, I am her son," he pointed out. Jack cautiously followed and tapped the floor gingerly every few steps with his feet

His grandfather only grunted softly in reply as he stepped up to the rotten railing at the opposite end of the structure. He placed a hand on the wood as he looked out to the wondrous view stretched out before them. Jack came up to his side and looked out at the imperious mountains and seemingly impenetrable forest that lay beyond. It was very quiet as the two of them stood there for a few moments. The breeze wafted silently through the trees as the night marched on. Jack nervously looked up at his grandfather, a man he had only just met a few hours ago.

His entire life he had known about his mother's father, but until they had met the elderly gentleman at the airport after their plane had landed he had never met him. Glancing at him now he could see the resemblance from his mom's face. He glimpsed her dark hair and a hint of a stubborn line along the chin. Jack couldn't tell whether they had the same blue eyes, but he assumed they were their probably an ordinary brown like his mother's own pair. The young man wondered why, with the night upon them, his grandfather still wore those dark spectacles.

"Great view, isn't it?" the boy asked to break the tension.

The older gentleman didn't reply, but then Jack didn't really expect a response. From his little experience with him in the car he had realized his grandfather was odd, to use a mild phrase. He had literally said nothing during their drive to the inn, even though his mom had tried to ask him a few simple questions about health and activities. He wondered why his grandfather had even joined them here at the inn.

"Well, it's kinda dark now," he hinted as he turned with a side-glance at his grandfather. Jack didn't really want to leave his elder relation alone out here in the cold, but he didn't want to stay at the gazebo all night. "So I'm going to go inside." He stepped away from the railing.

His grandfather didn't acknowledge Jack's words, but only continued to look out at the view. The boy just shrugged and stepped back onto the path. His way was much harder without his flashlight and he stumbled a few times before he reached the patio. His hands were scuffed and his pants stained as he walked up to the door. He wasn't a fan of the dark.

Jack turned the knob and found to his dismay that the door was locked. He groaned and slowly turned his attention to path along the house, his second option for getting back in. Without his flashlight he had no great desire to enter that impenetrable forest of rotten lattice and oppressing bushes that made up the hedge. He was a pathetic figure as the wind blew around him and he shivered against the cool air. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes flitted among the shadows of bush and broken chair. He was so very close to the comfort of the inn's interior, and yet so very far.

Jack's breath caught in his throat and he was about to rap hard on the door frame when he stiffened at the sound of a light foot scuffle along the patio. He slowly turned and nearly collapsed with relief when he noticed his grandfather had come up the path to stand behind him. He hadn't seen him come up the path.

"Hi," he lamely greeted. His startled mind could think of nothing else to say. His grandfather was really starting to creep him out. "Trapped outside like me, huh?" he joked, but the humor fell flat when his companion didn't even crack a smile.

Jack jerked aside when his relative stepped up to the doors. Out of one of his pockets his grandfather pulled forth an ancient-looking key. It was scuffed and chipped on the handle from countless years of use. It fit easily enough into the lock, however, and with a push of the handle the door swung open.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked. As far as he knew his mom had the only set of keys.

"This is merely a skeleton key," was the vague reply. His grandfather stepped back to allow him to enter. "It can open many doors."

"Thanks a lot," Jack replied with a smile as he walked through the entrance. When he did not hear footsteps following, he turned and found the door shut and his grandfather gone. "Creepy," he commented as he turned toward the room he had just entered.

Jack found himself in an open area filled with small tables and comfortable wicker chairs. With large windows which ran along the outside wall to his left and right, he imagined sunlight would engulf the room during the day. A pair of angled doors across his way allowed light from the lobby to flow into the room and allow him more visibility. He could hear noises coming from beyond a pair of simple swinging doors off to his right, and he wandered through them to find the kitchen. His mom was bustling about unpacking their foodstuffs, and he couldn't have been more glad to see her.

Looking around the brightly lit area, Jack was amused to see an old fashioned layout complete with a wood stove beside two modern, stacked electric ovens. The cobble stone floor was dusty from disuse and encircled a center island that had an old, hard water-encrusted sink. The main sink lay against the far wall to his right near where his mom stood emptying the items from the bag into the open cupboards. A new double-door stainless-steel refrigerator, one of the very few new additions the previous owners had installed, stood to his left. Opposite him lay more counter space and another pair of doors leading to the front sitting room. Food and drink lay all over the gray marble counter as she stood indecisively looking around the empty shelves. Jack laid his coat and broken flashlight on the island, which attracted his mother's attention.

"Oh good, there you are," she commented. She pushed the box of perishables across the counter toward the refrigerator. "Do you think you could put those in the fridge for me?"

"Sure," Jack accepted his mission. He scooped up two gallons of milk and put them in the appliance. With the two working together they soon had the shelves stocked and the fridge full.

"Well, I think that's enough work for me," his mom announced as she wiped her brow. Dust covered her forehead and cheeks, and Jack had trouble hiding his laughter at her filthy appearance. "What?" she asked. She looked down at her filthy hand. "Oh, let me guess," she grinned, and she turned to the small, narrow window which ran above the counter. "Yep, perfect," she joked as she let out a laugh of her own.

Jack jumped in the air when his mother suddenly let out a high-pitched scream.

"Damn it, dad!" she yelled at the figure who stood on the path outside the kitchen window. Her hands slammed down on the counter. "What the hell are you doing out there?" she demanded to know as she slid up the window.

"Enjoying the view," her father dryly commented, but both Jack and his mom could tell he was amused.

"Well, enjoy it someplace else!" she furiously replied as she slammed the window shut. For a moment Jack thought she would break the glass, but the only sound was her heavy breathing. "He's going to give me a heart attack," she grumbled. She turned around and slumped against the counter. The haggled mother closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of frustration. "How about we go find a pizza place?" she suggested as she pinched the bridge of her nose. That was her usual manner of showing annoyance. "Before I decide to teach your grandfather some manners," she muttered.

"Sure!" Jack agreed. A small breeze seemed to blow by him, but he shrugged it off to the drafts in the old inn. He grabbed his coat from the island, but was surprised when he revealed a pair of keys rather than his broken flashlight. He ducked his head beneath the island counter lip and saw nothing of the flashlight.

"Lost something?" his mom asked as she opened her eyes and pushed off from the counter.

"Um, guess not," he sheepishly replied. Instead he put on his jacket. "But how are we going to get to town?"

"I'll just see if your grandfather will let me drive his car," his mom grimaced as she looked out the window. The dark figure had disappeared. "Dang, never around when I need him."

"Are these the keys?" Jack suggested, and he picked up the ring his coat had covered.

"Were they always sitting there?" his mother asked as she took the keys in hand.

"My coat was hiding them," he explained with a shrug. He was a little confused himself, though, as he couldn't recall them sitting there when he put his jacket down. The broken flashlight had been exchanged for a pair of keys. "I was too distracted by the food to see them."

"Ah, that would explain it," she agreed, but she didn't quite look convinced. "Well, I guess we'd better go find something quick before we starve to death," she commented with a laugh.

"Shouldn't we try to find Grandpa first?" Jack asked her, and pointedly looked to the window. He wasn't too thrilled about his suggestion, but he didn't want to just leave without first asking. They were going to borrow his car, after all.

"No, he'll be fine," she replied as she shook her head and headed toward the front of the inn. "If he gets hungry, he knows where to find food."
Chapter 3

Unsettling Inn

Jack followed his mother out of the kitchen and into the lobby.

"We'll leave the lights on for when we get back," his mom suggested as she opened one of the grand front doors.

Jack slipped out behind her and watched as she tightly closed and locked the bolt. She placed the key into her purse and they aimed their steps toward the awaiting car. Jack could tell his mom was a little nervous about driving the high-class vehicle, since she fumbled to unlock the driver's side door.

"I'm already regretting this..." he heard her mutter as she finally succeeded in turning the lock. She slid into the seat and unlocked his side, allowing him to slip in. Jack felt a little uncomfortable without a seatbelt, and so did his mom. "I wish he'd put some seatbelts in this thing," she muttered. "It's not like he's not rich enough."

"Just don't get pulled over," Jack joked.

"Don't remind me, it'll just make things worse having the first person we meet be a cop."

Jack tightly held on to the car door handle and pressed his feet down on the floor. He was more than a little nervous about his mom driving after seeing her fumble at the door. He also realized the vehicle was a manual, and she would need to drive with the stick. She didn't have much experience with those.

"Here's hoping," she announced as she put the key into the ignition and turned. She breathed a sigh of relief when the engine roared to life. "Now with a little luck we can find a nice place to eat," she added as she ground down the gears.

"I'm sure there's something in town," Jack winced at the awful noise. They pulled out of the parking lot and proceeded down the road.

Their luck proved to be durable as they drove into the town and spotted bright lights and parked vehicles not more than a street off the main drive. Jack's mom looked for the nearest turn to take and found herself accidentally turning into a rather dark alley. The gears protested when she tried to shift down and the sudden lack of light caught her off guard as she bumped into trash cans.

"Mom!" Jack suddenly screamed and his hand shot out.

Someone was standing in the middle of the alley.

His mother pressed her foot to the break as the car came to a screeching halt . The person dove for a group of garbage cans against the side of a building and managed to scatter several stray cats They added to the ruckus with their angry yowls. For a moment after the felines had fled all was quiet as Jack and his mother harshly breathed. Then the cans shifted and a head popped out, allowing the car's headlights to show a lad of about thirteen wearing a dark coat and hat. Jack's mom bolted out her door and was at his side in a second. Jack could tell she was shaking as she knelt down beside the boy. He himself was gripping the dashboard tightly with one hand as he held his breath.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she looked him over. Her voice was shaky. "I'm so sorry for the scare," she profusely apologized, and the boy slowly removed himself from the trash.

"Yeah, I think I'm all right," he muttered as his legs wobbled unsteadily beneath him. Then he shot her a scolding glance. "But you need to watch where you're driving."

His rather absurd understatement elicited laughter rather than shame from Jack's mom. Jack was finally able to breath a sigh of relief and he leaned back in his seat. The boy was evidently unharmed and all was well.

"You're right," he heard his mom amicably agreed, and she stood up. "My driving is getting almost as bad as my dad's."

"He must be pretty bad," the boy commented. He suddenly squinted at her and then into the harsh lights of the vehicle. "So where are you guys from?" he asked. He rubbed his chin and looked between the two of them. "I don't recognize you."

"You wouldn't, my son and I are new to the area," she explained as she looked to the car. "Jack, come out and meet, um, I'm sorry, what was your name?" she sheepishly questioned as she turned back toward the boy.

"The name's Kyle, Kyle Skinner," he introduced, and he held out his hand.

"Emily Erikson," she replied as she took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Her son was soon at her side. "And this is my son, John Erikson."

"Just call me Jack," he corrected, and the boys exchanged handshakes.

"Pleasure," the younger greeted, a word which made the mother hard pressed not to laugh again. "What brings you two here?" he questioned as though the entire episode with the car had never occurred.

"Actually we just moved into the Hawthorn Inn," Emily explained.

Kyle jerked back as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. His lips tried to produce sounds as they slapped against one another, but nothing came out but spent air. The appearance would have been comical if his two companions hadn't been so perplexed by his overreaction.

"Y-you're kidding, right?" Kyle finally exclaimed as speech returned to him. He looked from Emily to Jack and back. "You guys bought it? The actual owners?"

"Yes," Emily replied with a laugh. "Why wouldn't we own it?"

"You have to let me see it!" he demanded, and he clasped his hands together. "Please!?"

"Wait one minute, young fellow," the mother interrupted. "Why do we need to let you see the inn so badly?"

"Just, well, just because!" Kyle lamely replied, and he flung his arms out. They weren't really moved by his thorough explanation. "You just have to!"

"Right now we'd just be grateful if you could find us a place to eat," Emily commented. She looked past him toward the next street. They could hear many voices talking and cars drove by. Friday night eaters out for a good piece of greasy fast food. "We're starving."

"Oh," the young boy answered, and he heard their stomachs grumble. Then a wide smile brightened his face and he gave a deep bow. "Well, then I'd be glad to be at your service!" he enthusiastically offered. "I know just the place to take you."

"Well then, lead on, gallant knight," the mother replied. She stepped aside and motioned toward the car. "Your steed awaits."

"Um, how do I know I can trust you guys?" he explained as he hesitated to accept their offer. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. "You guys did try to run me over."

"Come on, no one's a stranger after they've nearly ran you over," Jack humored.

"Jack!" his mother scolded him as her face paled.

"Hmm, hard to argue against that," Kyle interrupted. H stepped toward the car with a smile on his face. Jack and his mom cast odd expressions at the quirky boy. "We'd better get going then before Amanda gets cranky."

"Who's Amanda?" Emily inquired as they all slipped into the vehicle.

"Just a friend," he explained as he took the front passenger seat. "Take a left outta here and then drive down the road a block. That place has the best burgers in town."

The driver did as was instructed and within two minutes the group was parking at the local hamburger eatery. The parking lot was moderately busy with the Friday night crowd, but school had only just started and homework was light for all the teenagers with allowances. The bright lights were inviting as the group followed their young guide into the large dining area.

Jack looked around at the locals with a little apprehension, and one girl in particular stood out from the rest. She appeared to be only a few years older than himself and held the most shocking color of purple hair he had ever witnessed. His mother noticed his gaze and poked him in the rib.

"Ow," he complained as he rubbed his side. "What'd you do that for?"

"She's what, almost five years older than you?" his mother pointed out. Her eyes held a teasing light in them. "So aren't you a little too old to be wanting to hang out with a purple dinosaur?"

Jack rolled his eyes and the two followed Kyle to where a girl of about his age sat at an empty table. She was a little surprised to see the crowd come up, and rather instinctively clutched at her purse at her side.

"Hey Amanda, look who I found," her friend announced, and he gestured toward his guests. He was all smiles, but she didn't think much of his catch.

"You've picked up more strangers?" she scolded. Jack wondered what other people Kyle had picked up. Kyle's female friend cringed when several of the other customers looked their way. His volume was always set to eleven. "And could you keep it down?" she begged.

"Nope," Kyle replied. He sat down and took a French fry from her basket.

"Maybe we should find our own seats," Emily commented when she noticed the girl's tense posture. There were plenty other tables to grab while they waited for their order. "We don't want to intrude."

"It's all right, you won't be protruding," Kyle argued with a laugh through a mouthful of deep fried potatoes. "Just go order your stuff and we'll wait here."

The two strangers went up to the counter to make their order, leaving the old friends to their discussion.

"Who are they?" Amanda questioned after the others were out of hearing. She leaned over the small table. "And how in the world did you find them this time?"

"The new owners of the inn," her friend replied as he munched on more fries. "They almost ran me over on the way here and offered to give me a lift," he explained. Kyle waved off his friend's horrified expression. "But that's not the best part," he informed. He, too, leaned over so that their faces almost touched. She couldn't get over the last 'great' part. "They promised me a look at the inn. This could be our way of getting in there and investigating all those rumors!" he announced with a small squeal of delight.

"You know you're addicted, right?" she questioned. She rolled her eyes, pulled away from him and brushed off some fry crumbs from her face.

"It keeps me from going bored out of my mind," Kyle defensively replied. "Otherwise I'd be-"

"Sane," she interrupted with a titter. "Because those old rumors are just that, rumors. They're just their to scare away vandals and people who are too curious."

At that moment Jack and his mother returned to the table with their order made and a numbered plate to place on the table for the waitress to find them.

"We decided to take our food home with us," Emily announced. She and her son stood by the table. "We don't want to intrude on your dinner."

"But that's not a problem," Kyle argued. He looked to his friend and gently elbowed her. "We don't mind them, do we?"

"You can stay if you want," Amanda sighed as she rolled her eyes and lazily munched a fry. There were hardly any left. "I think Kyle is dying to see the inn."

"He does seem pretty interested, but maybe you'd both would like to visit us?" Emily asked them. By now she realized a few of the other patrons were listening in on their conversation. It was a good time to show them how generous she could be with their own.

Jack looked to his mom in both surprise and nervousness. He wasn't so sure about inviting strangers so quickly over to the inn before they had a chance to even unpack. He also had a sneaking suspicion his parent was trying to push friends on him early before he tried to cloister himself in his bedroom. He had great plans for walling himself up using the furniture.

"Yeah!" Kyle practically yelled, and he jumped to his feet. "When can we go? Now? I don't have any homework this weekend."

"Well, how about you come up tomorrow at about ten?" she suggested with a laugh. She set her hands on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down into his seat. "That way you two can stay for lunch, and the view is incredible before the sun sets," she noted. Emily looked Amanda to listen to her opinion.

"I don't know..." Amanda hesitated. "I mean, it's Saturday and all, but I might be busy."

"Come on, Amanda!" Kyle scolded with a frown. "You don't have any homework, either." Kyle suddenly paused and glanced over at Jack. "What grade are you in, anyway?"

"I just started high school, but I'm not really in any grade," Jack confessed as he shrugged his shoulders. He'd gone through this conversation before, and he was pretty indifferent to explaining these details to strangers.

"He's home schooled," his mother explained. "And as for the visit, you might get to see some of the wildlife wandering around the back meadow," she pointedly remarked. She had noted an assortment of animal pins on the girl's purse.

"Well, I'd have to ask my mom first..." Amanda hesitated as she bit her lip.

"My mom would be thrilled to have me out of the house," Kyle exclaimed with a laugh. His new acquaintances didn't have a hard time believing that. "But she might be a little worried about me going to visit some people she doesn't know."

"I can call both your parents, if you really want to come," Emily offered with a smile. Jack inwardly groaned at his mom's insistence. She was up to something. "I'm sure they won't mind too much once I've explained everything." Kyle readily gave his family's number, and after some prodding from his friend, Amanda gave her own. Any further conversation was interrupted when their bagged food came to the table.

"Well, we'd better get going," Mrs. Erikson scolded herself, and she took the bag from the employee. "We have a lot of work to do around that place."

"See ya tomorrow!" Kyle called after them as he waved his goodbyes. "And don't run anyone over!"

Emily's face turned a shade of pink. They quickly exited the establishment and walked over to their car. When they got inside Jack pushed his feet against the floor and his mom ground the gears as they drove down the road in silence. Jack was not looking forward to their visit tomorrow.

"You think their parents will let them come?" Jack asked after they had left the lights of the town behind them.

"Maybe," his mom replied with a smile. "It's worth a try, and I'm kind of curious to see how one of the locals acts around the inn."

"Why's that?" her son questioned, and he slightly leaned toward her.

"Oh, just some tales I've heard about the place, that's all," she evasively answered. "I don't want any of them to feel we're not approachable."

Jack was too tired to prod her further, but he promised himself he would start the interrogation tomorrow after a good night's sleep. Then another thought came to mind, and he apprehensively glanced at his mom.

"Do you think Grandpa would want to meet them?" Jack hesitantly asked.

"I doubt it," his mother replied with a laugh. "Remember what I told you about his sleeping habits?" she reminded him of their conversation on the plane. She'd briefly mentioned that his grandfather kept his own time and they could never be sure whether he'd be awake or not. "He probably won't even be awake when they leave."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Jack agreed, but he turned a sly look to his mother. "Though I think you love him more than me because he gets to sleep in later."

"You have chores to do, young man," his mother countered. "Your grandfather's job is to stay out of the way." She suddenly frowned as she looked straight ahead. "You'd probably better not tell your new friends about your grandfather," she suggested. "At least not just yet."

"Why not?" he asked. It was a strange idea to him to hide a family member.

"Well, he's a little strange," she explained. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "And we don't want to scare them on their first visit."

"I guess," was Jack's reply, and he slumped down in his seat. He had looked forward to telling the two visitors about his quirky relative. "But aren't they going to find out about him some time?"

"Well, we can't avoid that forever, that's true," his mother sighed. "But for now, let's try to make a good first impression." Here she snickered a little. "Think of the impression he already tried to make on that elderly lady." Jack joined in her mirth as they bumped along the road leading to the dark inn.

"You'd better not stay up too late," his mother warned when the lights from the car illuminated the front of the building. "You're going to have to be ready for when your guests come."

"My guests?" Jack repeated. He failed to stifle a yawn as the vehicle came to a stop.

"I'm going to be busy looking over the inn and seeing what needs to be upgraded and cleaned out," she defended as she parked the car at the front door.

"Great," he mumbled as he looked down at the food in his lap. "May as well eat my last meal," he half-joked.

"Making some friends will do you some good," his mother encouraged as she stepped out of the car. "And I'll let you eat in your room just this once. I'm too tired to clean up the kitchen." She scowled at the dark entrance to the inn. "Didn't we leave the lights on?" she asked as she was forced to fumble for the keys in the dark.

"Yeah," Jack replied. He sidled up to his mother against the intruding and unexpected darkness.

"That's what I thought," his mom commented as she carefully unlocked the entrance. She held him back. "Me first," she softly commanded as she stepped into the shadowed lobby. She turned to the front of the desk and she tried not to stumble against any unknown furniture. "I just need to find that dang light switch," she mumbled, and then she let out a sharp cry.

"Mom!" Jack yelled out. He shot inside and tried to look where she'd gone. The darkness was impenetrable.

"I'm fine," she softly replied, and he heard her shuffle along the floor. "I think I just bruised my hip on a chair. Damn this darkness!"

"Uh, mom?" Jack asked as his eyes followed the light streaming in from the open door. Something was amiss. "Shouldn't our bags be lying there?"

His mother took in a sharp breath when she, too, noticed the empty area where their suitcases had stood.

"What in the world?" she muttered as she continued to fumble around in the dark.

"They are in your rooms," a voice commented from the staircase.

At that moment Jack's mom found the light switch and the room was flooded with the chandelier's brilliance. The light vanquished the dark shadows, and mother and son turned their heads to find the patriarch of the family standing at the foot of the steps. Jack noticed when his grandfather looked upward and scowled at the soft, comforting glow above them. He also realized that even in the darkness of the room his elder had been wearing those strange dark glasses. He had also removed his large overcoat and hat, showing off a slim physique and an almost untamed mass of short black hair.

"You're sadistic," Jack's mother commented. She tried to contain her erratic breathing from yet another one of his scares. "Don't you have better things to do than to scare us?"

Jack's body shook and he held tightly to the bag in his hand. The new home combined with their new family member was taking its toll on his nerves. It had also almost scared the hunger out of him.

"The hour is late," his grandfather vaguely commented.

"Well, that's one thing we can agree on," Emily commented. She sighed and fumbled around to the other side of the desk. "And we didn't leave that late," she argued. Then she frowned at him. "Coming from someone who's such a night owl, you're acting a little ridiculous." Jack was really starting to see a creepy pattern to his relation's entrances.

"Come on, Jack, we'd better go see where your grandfather's hidden our luggage," his mom half joked. She stepped around the front of the desk with a large chain of keys. They jingled loudly in her hands. "This could take all night."

"They are in the west wing," the grandfather dryly noted, and his face turned to his daughter. "The final two rooms."

"Why didn't you put us in the east wing?" she scolded. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know they have a better view of the rising sun." He continued to stare at her without comment until she growled and threw her arms up in submission. "Fine, we'll do it your way," she agreed, though she cast the evil eye at him. "But I want to talk to you tomorrow," she ordered as she turned to Jack. "Come on, Jack, I think I know where to go."

Jack jogged over to her and they both proceeded up the stairs. He looked to his grandfather as he passed, and for a moment he thought their eyes actually met. He couldn't say for certain because of the glasses his grandfather still wore, but Jack felt there was something in his face that expressed interest or fascination. He wasn't sure he could return the feeling. The contact didn't last long, and the moment was so brief the boy convinced himself he was just imagining things. Maybe the long drive and hunger were grating on his nerves, and the figure who remained in the lobby wasn't helping matters.

The two reached the landing. Jack turned his attention to the inn's layout and looked in the opposing directions of the two halls. He'd gotten a chance to look at the floor plan, and now he had the perfect opportunity to use what he'd learned. Because of the roughly rectangular shape of the building, there were very few hallways and generally it was impossible for someone to get lost. The main hall ran perpendicular with the lengthwise of the house but performed ninety degree turns at all four corners of the building. The corners allowed enough room for bedrooms to be situated across the entire outer walls.

The center of the upper floor contained a large ballroom and was reached by two carved doors similar to those in the lobby. Those doors stood in the center of the main part of the hall directly in front of the landing. Each of the four walls of the ballroom held doors of similar make and there was an attic situated in the rafters above the entire structure, but he hadn't seen any way to access it.

If Jack's guess was right, their bedrooms were located at the far left corner of the inn. His mom led them in that direction. They turned left and wandered around the corner to the far end of the hall. Ordinarily the corridor would have been lit by the electric lamps hanging on the walls every few yards, but because they had no idea where the switch was the hall was only vaguely lit from the light of the lobby's chandelier.

"He just had to take the flashlights, too..." he heard his mom mutter.

By the time they had reached the end of the hall there wasn't even a dim glow against the walls behind them. A tall, narrow window stood at the end of the passage in a tiny nook between the far left corner bedroom and the start of the back row of rooms. Moonlight streamed into the hall and allowed for more light than Jack expected. His mom stopped at the final two doors and looked between them indecisively.

"Well, I'm not really sure which one is yours and which one is mine, so I guess we'll just have to try them," she suggested. She looked up at the lights positioned along the hall. "And remind me tomorrow to check where these light switches are," she added as she scowled at the nearest unlit lamp.

"Yeah," Jack agreed as he looked between the rooms. "I'll guess I'll check this one," he offered . He went up to the door leading to the corner bedroom.

"Be careful, we don't know what furniture we could trip over," his mother warned, and she rubbed her hip to emphasize her point.

Jack nodded and checked the knob on the door. The entrance proved to be unlocked and cautiously he stepped inside the dark room. He could just make out a small end table to his right as he looked to his left for a light switch. Blindly he fumbled against the wall which extended a few feet into the room, and he was rewarded when his fingertips found a switch. Light illuminated the room via more lamp-like fixtures along the wall to his right and he was finally able to see what had lurked in the darkness.

The floor was made of a heavily stained oak wood like the corridor, and was carpeted with strategically placed rugs. Beyond the end table stood a large armoire made from the same dark oak wood and farther back he noticed the front of an ornate desk. He stepped further in and noted a large king bed lay against the wall to his left. Jack was bemused to find it was a four-post monstrosity with a heavy canopy. Two nightstands stood on either side of the bed with the farthest holding a small swivel-necked lamp. A door stood off to the left near the left side nightstand, and he assumed that led to the bathroom.

The windows, however, were the main attraction in the suite. They stood against the far wall opposite the front door with their long, dark curtains drawn and opened to a magnificent view of the forest beyond the inn. Jack plopped the bag of food and his coat down on the small table and stepped across the room. He looked outside, but found the light reflected too heavily on the glass and diminished the sight.

"Well, this must be your room," his mother suddenly informed. She stepped into the space and looked around. "My luggage is hidden in the closet in the room next door," she commented as she stepped up to the armoire and opened the two large doors. "Yep, here's your stuff," she nodded. Emily turned toward her son and she was smiling from ear to ear. "How do you like it?"

"It's great, mom," Jack replied as he looked over his shoulder at her. "The view is really amazing, too, if I could just see it," he joked.

"Well, your grandfather does have good tastes in rooms, at least," she agreed with a laugh. She came to stand beside him. "But I do wish he would ask before he does us any favors," she muttered as she looked out onto the property.

"Mom?" Jack hesitated, and he looked to her. "Why is Grandpa doing this stuff for us? I mean, why is he even here?"

"I really wish I could answer that, Jack," she replied with a deep sigh as her hand reached up to clasp one of the curtains. She looked out into the darkness with a pensive expression. "I'm not really sure myself."

"Then why did you let him come?" he further inquired.

"He insisted," was her blunt answer. She shrugged her shoulders. "And I figured it was a chance for you two to get to know each other, well, at all," she admitted, but she turned to give him a sly look. "But I hope you don't start taking after him."

"So does that mean I can't go sneaking up on you or sleep until the afternoon?" Jack asked with an impish grin.

"Most definitely you cannot," his mom laughed as she pulled the curtain closed. "Now let's eat our dinner and hit the hay, okay? We've got a lot of unpacking to do tomorrow when the movers come."

"Sounds like a plan," he nodded as he closed the curtain closest to himself.

The two split the food between themselves and Emily retired to her own room. Jack, left with the bag because his mom trusted him less with spillage, joyfully jumped onto the bed with his dinner. He leaned against the embroidered pillows with frilly edges and gobbled down the fries and most of the hamburger. His hunger satiated, he leaned back against the wood headboard and looked up at the canvas above him.

Jack was glad to see the dark cover held still, which showed there were no drafts in the room. He didn't want to worry about catching his death of cold because of shoddy carpentry. There didn't appear to be any obvious gaps in the woodwork, but you could never be too sure with old structures. He was pleasantly surprised by the luxury of the room. He'd been imagining a rustic bedroom with chinked walls, no lighting, and a bed built of hewn logs.

Jack was only partially surprised, then, when he found the cover above him slowly start to sway from side to side. He himself couldn't feel the slightest hint of a wind, but the cloth kept moving to and fro at a slow, rhythmic speed. The boy felt his eye lids grow heavy as he watched the canvas swing side to side against the gentle breeze. His hand holding the remains of his hamburger slowly slid off his lap onto the bed as he tried to stay awake. Before Jack could muster enough strength to will himself off the bed, his head fell back on the soft down pillows and he slipped into persistent sleep.

A strange dream awaited the boy as foggy visions came to his mind.

Jack was disoriented by his surroundings until he realized he was standing in the center of the gazebo. A night so impenetrable that he couldn't see beyond the scope of the rotted railing enveloped the tiny structure with its lone occupant. Jack could see his breath coming out in small puffs of air, and he looked this way and that, trying to find a point of light. Nothing caught his attention until he heard a faint sound of shuffling, as of feet lightly moving along a carpet. He turned toward the noise and his breath caught in his throat.

Beyond the railing he caught a glimpse of a pair of dark red eyes staring at him. They didn't move, they didn't even flicker with emotion as their gazes met.

"W-who's there?" Jack called out. He stepped away from the menacing orbs.

No words came, but he thought he again heard the sound of shuffling. This time, though, they moved away from him. The eyes faded with the noise and soon Jack believed he was alone, but he did not feel alone. His body stiffened when the footsteps suddenly sounded like they were all around him. They pounded louder and louder, coming closer and closer. He turned this way and that, trying to find their source. His breath caught in his throat just as the steps reached the gazebo's wooden floor.

Then he heard a woman scream.

Jack jerked up in bed as the sound died away. He was panting hard and his muscles were stiff. He frantically tried to get his bearings. It was still dark out but there was a hint of sun rays rising above the mountains. That's when he heard the sound of his mom's angry voice yelling at someone in her room. He swiftly jumped off the bed and made for the hall, his hands fumbling for the knob.

Jack finally escaped from his room and dashed to his mother's door. He had an easier go at opening her door and he barged unannounced into the suite. The son found his mother in her pajamas with her back against her standing closet, her hands clenched and her body shaking. She held her hand over her face and her eyes were closed.

"What's wrong?" he frantically asked as he rushed up to her.

"It...it's nothing," she managed to reply through clenched teeth. "Just saw a...a stupid shadow," she dismissively explained. "When's the furniture truck supposed to come?" she questioned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She sounded like she was trying to change the subject.

"Some time this afternoon, I think," Jack answered as he looked her over. She didn't appear to have anything wrong with her, but something had definitely frightened her. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again. Jack didn't quite believe that a simple rodent had so startled his mother. Her nerves were usually not so easily effected by the sight of pests. He glanced past her at the closet.

"I'm good," Emily sighed as she gave him a small smile. "I'll be better when that damn truck arrives and I can fill this thing with my stuff," she affirmed as she walked over to her bed. "But first I need to get dressed and make some phone calls or our guests are going to be late." She plopped down on the bed and looked at her son. "You should probably be getting ready, too."

Jack looked at his mother a moment longer, trying to assuage any doubts he had about her well-being, but he nodded and silently left the room. Before he shut the door, however, he noticed her glaring at the armoire like she wished to light it on fire.

Jack returned to his room and looked at the crumpled mess of bed. Worry for his mother was pushed aside as he was reminded of the nightmare he had dreamed. He could hardly have called his mind's hallucination anything but a terrible experience. Even now his breath quickened as he reviewed the eerie atmosphere and the loud footsteps getting closer.

Those eyes, though, were what cinched the nightmare. He couldn't help but shiver as he re-entered the room and looked around. Nothing appeared out of place, down to the half-eaten hamburger knocked all over the bed. The boy walked over to the nearest corner post and looked up at the canopy. He was surprised to find the cloth was still as the grave. Gingerly Jack climbed atop the bed and stood up to reach the cover.

The sheet moved at the slightest touch of his fingers, and the boy looked at the wall opposite to see if any light shone through the boards. He couldn't see any source which would have caused the strange motion the night before, but he stepped off the bed and investigated the cracks on the opposing wall. After a few minutes of diligent searching he was still at a loss as to the canopy's movement the previous night. Then there was a sudden knock on his door that startled him from his thoughts.

"Are you ready yet, Jack?" his mother called from the other side.

"Almost," he called back. He stepped back, took one last frustrated look at the wall, and shifted over to the armoire. "Just gimme a few more minutes."

"All right, I'll just start breakfast then," she replied and he faintly heard her footsteps walk down the hall.
Chapter 4

First Guests

Jack walked down the stairs into the lobby and smelled a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. He turned his steps in that direction and was nearly salivating when he entered the room to find his mom over the stove.

"The eggs are already done and the bacon is almost ready," she announced without turning around.

"How does Grandpa sneak up on you?" Jack asked. He slid onto one of the stools surrounding the island. "You have eyes on the back of your head."

"He's had a lot of practice," she explained. She stopped flipping the bacon and scowled. "Besides, a thirteen year old boy is a lot louder than an old man," his mom informed. She placed the last of the bacon on the plate and turned around. "Now eat up while I try to get a hold of the parents of those two."

While she went to the phone in the lobby, Jack practically consumed the plate of eggs and bacon set out before him like a feast for the gods. He leaned back, satisfied, and patted his stomach with a resounding burp.

"I heard that," his mother called from the lobby. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Great breakfast, mom!" Jack called back. He sheepishly jumped off the stool and dashed out into the lobby. He noticed her standing behind the front desk. "I'm going to go look around some more, all right?"

"Don't be too long!" she replied as she put her hand over the phone receiver she was holding. "We don't know when your friends are going to come." She watched as her only child skipped up the stairs and disappeared around the corner. "Or even if they'll come..." she muttered. Emily put the phone back to her ear and listened as the tenth ring sounded.

Jack ran to his room and grabbed his coat which he'd left on the small entrance table. He noticed the suite was heavily draped in shadows because of the thick curtains along the windows. The boy made a mental note to open those when he got back, though he couldn't even recall shutting them last night. He turned and bumped into a tall object standing behind him. The momentum caught him off guard and he found himself falling backward before his upper arm was caught by a strong hand. Jack looked up to find himself staring at his grandfather's pale face.

"H-hi, Grandpa," he greeted. He was released from the old man's iron grip and he steadied himself. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked as he recalled his grandfather's strange sleeping habits.

"You were planning to explore the grounds?" he inquired while he ignored the boy's own question.

"Yeah, just a little," Jack admitted. He wasn't sure if he was in trouble or if his grandfather was just curious. "Mostly around the edge of the trees. I promise I won't go too far."

"Keep your distance from the edge of the trees," his elder warned. Then he stepped aside to allow his grandson to pass.

"But why?" the younger asked as he blinked his eyes.

"Because I said so," was his grandfather's harsh reply

Jack flinched from the rough tone. He nodded his head, and slipped past him and through the open door. He didn't dare turn around as his footsteps pounded along the corridor and into the friendlier light of the lobby. He was nearly out of breath when he reached the landing and skipped down the steps.

"Is something wrong?" his mother asked as he dashed down the stairs by threes. She met him at the foot of the steps and stopped him by gently grabbing hold of his shoulders. "You look as pale as your grandfather," she tried to joke as she brushed his bangs back, but she noticed the humor fell distinctly flat.

"It's nothing," Jack replied. He laughed off his mother's concern. He didn't want her to worry about him, not when she had other, more important matters on her mind. Namely, getting this place up and running so they could start paying for the taxes. "Just nearly fell down in my room, that's all," he half-truthfully explained. "See ya!" he gave his farewell as he maneuvered around her and out the front door of the inn.

Emily looked at the shut door where her son had exited and then up the stairs where he had come. She frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now what are you up to, old man?" she quietly asked the empty air.

Jack flung on his coat when he was hit with a blast of cold fall air. His breath came in clean puffs as he looked around at what would be his first exploration during the day. The impish insistence in his mind to search the far part of the meadow was bluntly pushed aside when he recalled his grandfather's creepy tone.

"Wonder what's wrong with him?" Jack asked himself aloud as he began wandering around the parking lot. He crossed his arms and kicked a rock which skittered down the graveled drive. "He's like an old riddle. I can't quite figure it out, but you know the answer's probably obvious."

Jack's meditation was interrupted when the noise of a vehicle along the road caught his attention. He looked up from his pensive mood and saw a van crest over the hill and drive toward the entrance to the inn. The boy heard the door to the inn open and out stepped his mom. He was going to ask her for information, but the puzzled expression on her face mirrored his own.

"We shouldn't be expecting anyone yet," she spoke aloud even as the pair watched the car come closer. "And they certainly aren't the movers."

The vehicle slowed to a stop not far from where they stood. The young boy expected it to stop but the engine was still running as the side sliding door suddenly swung open. They weren't sure what to expect, but Kyle Skinner bouncing out of the van was not it.

"Hey guys!" he greeted. He gave a big wave and shut the door behind him with a loud clank. "I thought I'd get here early so we can get a head start on the tour!"

"Um, hi Kyle," Mrs. Erikson returned as she slowly sidled up to the driver's side door. Jack checked his watch. Nine o'clock. Emily noticed there were two smaller kids in the back arguing over a teddy. "Is this your mother?" she asked over the noise as she looked to the haggard woman at the wheel.

"Yep," Kyle affirmed. "Mom, meet Mrs. Erikson," he introduced with a wide grin. "She's the one who said I could come."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Erikson," Mrs. Skinner warmly replied, though the smile on her face didn't dissolve the tired pouches under her eyes. "I'm very glad to find someone to show Kyle around the inn. Quiet!" she yelled as she turned to the kids in the backseat. They shrunk back from her voice and she looked back to Emily. "He's been dying to see it for years. The Olsens wouldn't let him come up."

"Oh, well, that's no problem," Emily waved off with an uneasy smile. She didn't like the way this visit was going. Neither did Jack, and he uneasily looked between Kyle and the van. "What time were you expecting to come pick Kyle up?"

"Oh, some time in the afternoon," Mrs. Skinner vaguely informed before she looked at the clock on the dashboard. "But it looks like I'm late for my shopping," she announced as she put the car into drive. "I'll be seeing you," she cooed as she waved to her son. "Bye, Kyle, and be good!"

"Yeah, I will," he called back, and his cheeks flushed. Mothers had a knack for embarrassing their kids.

Jack and his mother watched the van leave with a sense of foreboding. They didn't like where this setup was heading, especially Jack. He was the one who would have to entertain their new acquaintance for such a long time.

"Well, what about the other guest?" he asked his mom in a quiet whisper so their new arrival wouldn't overhear. "That Amanda girl."

"I got a hold of her mother, so she'll be here on time," his mom whispered back. "But I don't know what to do with him in the mean time..." she admitted as she glanced over at their guest.

"That's okay," Kyle interrupted, and he swung out a cell phone. Emily looked a little ashamed of herself at what she had said, but the visitor didn't appear to notice while he pressed a button in his call list. "I can call her mom and tell her to come right over." Jack flinched in horror and his mom furiously shook her head.

"No no, that's all right, you don't really-" Mrs. Erikson insisted. She reached out her hand to grab the phone, but because of speed dial he already had the receiver to his ear and was speaking to someone on the other line.

"Mrs. Huxley? This is Kyle, is Amanda coming soon?" he asked. The two people beside him looked on with a mixture of horror and fascination. "Oh no, that's changed, she can come now if you can get her here. That's great, see you soon!" he finished, and he shut the phone and put it back into his coat pocket. He looked to them with a wide grin on his face. "Amanda will be here pretty soon, her mom just needs to remember where she put the car keys."

"That's...that's great," Jack's mom tried to muster, but Jack could see she was getting more nervous about these arrangements. Everything just wasn't falling into place and they could both feel that trouble was just around the corner. "Is Mrs. Huxley going to give you both rides back to town this afternoon?"

"Oh, right, that," Kyle suddenly remembered, and he tapped his chin with his finger. "Hmm, not sure, I forgot to ask."

"Well, I'll remind her about the arrangement we discussed earlier," Jack's mom sighed. She suddenly wrapped her arms around herself. In her hurry to meet the van, she had forgotten to put on her coat. "Looks like I'd better get inside before I catch my death of cold," she joked, and she headed towards the door.

"Ya might wanna work on the phone reception here, too," he suggested as he tapped on his phone. "I could barely hear Mrs. Huxley."

"It's all these rocks and trees," Mrs. Erikson explained. She waved in the general direction of the foundation. "They don't really help."

"Well, let's get on with the tour. The inside outta make a great start," Kyle suggested as he jumped to follow her to the entrance. "This is going to be so cool!"

Jack slouched his shoulders and he glared at his mom. She nervously smiled back and shrugged in helpless dismay. They weren't so sure the day would be filled with fun, but excitement they were most definitely expecting. Jack could just feel he would be bearing the brunt of that problem.

"Wow," Kyle complimented as he stood in the lobby of the grand inn. His leaned his head back and he gazed at the chandelier high overhead. A wide grin spread across his face, and then he turned his attention to Jack and his mother who stood near the front desk. "Just like in all the pictures I've seen of it."

"So you really haven't been in here?" Mrs. Erikson asked. She couldn't imagine someone living all their life around this neat inn and not getting a chance to see inside it.

"Nope, the Olsens said I'd break stuff," he offhandedly mentioned. Jack's mother blanched, but their guest didn't notice. "Now where can we start?" he eagerly questioned.

"I think maybe we should wait for Amanda before we begin the grand tour," Mrs. Erikson suggested, and she looked to Jack. "In the meantime, Jack can show you the kitchen and the great view from the dining room," she encouraged. She gave her son a push toward the swinging door.

"I guess," Jack hesitantly agreed as he stepped toward the kitchen's entrance. He had limited experience as a guide, and this crash course was not how he wanted practice. "It's this way," he explained, and Kyle eagerly followed him.

The two boys stepped through the kitchen to give Kyle a peak of that room, and then turned right into the dining area Jack had walked through the night before. They stopped before the large windows looking out onto the expansive lawn. It was the first clear view in the daytime Jack had seen of the back lawn, so both were impressed by the sheer size and scope of the grounds laid out before them.

The overgrown grass reached to the very edge of the woods curled beneath its own weight and the still air allowed it some peace. Those wild strands which were set against the edges of the patio peaked over the side and begged to climb atop man's last refuge from the untamed lawn. A few marred laurel bushes planted along the patio were worn with the harshness of several years neglect while dead flowers lay forgotten in their pots. Rock paths littered with weeds twisted and wound their way down the soft slope, tempting the boys with far off adventures. On the lawn the endless view was broken by a few clumps of large willow trees. Their ancient branches provided refuge from the sun while benches, their forms born from those very trees, offered solitude.

Passed the grass and paths stood the quiet realm of untouched forests. The trees gathered around the edge of the meadow and stretched out into the distance beyond the sight of the two boys. Those crowded groves of pines, cedars and poplars hinted at undiscovered trails and haunted thickets full of untamed animals and hidden secrets. The tales those trees wove tempted anyone brave enough to venture into their arms, and promised them memories which would never be forgotten.

The silence was broken by Kyle's low whistle.

"Wow," Kyle repeated, and he shielded his eyes with one hand. He gestured toward the tree line. "I didn't know the property went all the way down there."

"Yeah, I think it goes into the woods, too," Jack mentioned. He noticed when his new acquaintance turn away from the window and was surprised to find the his gaze was directed at the ceiling. "Looking for something?" he asked.

"Well, kinda," Kyle seriously replied, and he rubbed his chin. "I was sorta hoping to see the ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Jack repeated as he raised a brow. His companion was certainly direct. "There are supposed to be ghosts here?"

"Well, that's what the rumors say, anyway," his friend explained. He lowered his voice as he leaned in close to Jack. "They say it's visited by a real spooky ghost during certain times of the year," he spoke in a soft whisper. "You know," he added as his eyes wandered around the room. "Like on the anniversary of a tragic accident."

The empty room suddenly was too quiet and their eyes moved to the shadowed corners. The boys jumped a little when they heard Jack's mother call their names from the lobby.

"Jack, Kyle," they heard Emily yell. "Amanda's here."

They both looked to the door before they turned toward each other. At the same time they grinned and made a dash toward the front area. The race became comical as they could only get one of the two doors to the lobby opened. The two became entangled in the door jam, and then fell into a pile of flailing limbs on the ground. Mrs. Erikson looked on in resigned amusement.

"Are you two done?" Mrs. Erikson asked as she watched them scramble to their feet.

"Yeah, mom," Jack grinned as he brushed his clothes off.

"Well, come on," she instructed as she gestured to the door. "The car's just pulling up."

A heavy truck pulled into the parking lot and Amanda nervously exited the passenger side seat as Mrs. Erikson stepped up to speak with her mother.

"Hey," Amanda half-heartedly greeted as she came up to the boys.

"Took ya long enough," Kyle scolded. His face was nearly split by his wide grin. "Isn't this so cool?"

"Yeah, I guess," she hesitantly replied. She looked past them at the inn. It was a big enough building to be intimidating to her.

"Now you be good for Mrs. Erikson, Amanda," Mrs. Huxley called from the car as she leaned across the passenger side. "I'll be back to pick you two up around four."

"K, mom," Amanda agreed. She waved when the car started to pull away. The car traveled along the circular drive and was proceeding down the drive when a large white van appeared over the hill. Mrs. Erikson pumped her fist in the air in triumph and she turned to the kids.

"Looks like the moving van's here," she announced. She glanced over to Jack. "You can show them around, Jack, while the moving guys help me unpack, but try not to get lost in the woods," she pleaded as the driver stopped near where they stood.

"We won't," Jack agreed as he rolled his eyes.

"And don't roll yours eyes," she called back without turning around.

"Wow, your mom is good," Kyle commented. Jack merely led the three of them back to the inn.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he countered with a sigh not unlike his mom's own.

Jack led the group passed through the front doors and entered at the grand lobby. It was Amanda's first view and she gazed up at the centerpiece chandelier in awe.

"That thing sure is big," she noticed. She made sure not to stand beneath the heavy object.

"I don't think it's going to come crashing down any time soon," Jack spoke with a laugh. "It's probably been up there for a hundred years."

"Maybe even longer," Kyle whispered in an eerie voice as he looked to the shadows against the dark walls. "Maybe as long as the ghost."

"You're not going to start that already, are you?" Amanda asked. She put her hands on her hips. "Is that all you're going to talk about for the rest of the day?"

"What is this about a ghost, anyway?" Jack interrupted as he looked to Kyle. "You were telling me about it before Amanda drove up."

"To be honest, there's not much to tell," the other boy admitted with a shrug. "Just some rumors about a strange figure lurking around every once in a while." He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers for added affect. "The only spooky thing is there's been sightings of it for over two hundred years."

"Wow, I didn't realize this place was so old," Jack commented. He looked at the worn walls with a new amount of respect. The place looked good for its age. "So what's this thing supposed to look like?" he prodded.

"I'm not really sure," Kyle admitted as he scratched the back of his head. "I know the Olsons, the owners before your mom, they saw some shadow come around in the spring the few years they owned the place. They thought it was an intruder. They called the police after they tried to shoot at it, but the cops didn't find anything."

"Yeah, my dad wasn't happy to see bullet holes in the walls near the power boxes," Amanda added.

"Yeah, didn't he threaten to take their guns away?" Kyle asked.

"Pretty much, but they said they'd behave from now on."

"So that's it?" Jack interrupted as he frowned. "Just a shadow coming around once a year?" He couldn't hide his disappointment. "Maybe it was caused by a trick of the light or something."

"Could be," Kyle agreed with another shrug. "But they remodeled parts of the building pretty heavily when they came, and the stories have been around longer than them. Maybe they confused the ghost enough that they were able to catch it in the act."

"Like a confused burglar?" their host suggested with a laugh. "Sounds like one hell of a spooky ghost."

"Can we please stop talking about ghosts and get on looking around?" Amanda pleaded.

"Yeah, sure," Jack agreed. He pointed toward the kitchen door. "That's the kitchen in there," he informed. "And the dining hall is through those double doors on the left side of the stairs."

"So what's in the east wing?" Kyle asked, and he pointed behind where Jack stood.

"To be honest I don't really know yet," their guide admitted as he shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't even recall what the layout had shown. "But I-" he began only to be interrupted by a holler from Kyle.

"Now we're talking!" his new friend exclaimed. He hurried over to the nearest door and put his hand over the knob. "Let's go where none of us have gone before!"

"That's so cliched," Amanda retorted as she groaned.

"Don't ruin the moment," Kyle ordered with a frown.

"I'm not sure if my mom wants us to go there," Jack hesitated as he looked toward the double doors which stood in the center of the east wing. "She hasn't really gone in there herself," he admitted.

"All the more reason to go through it," the younger boy encouraged. "We can make sure everything's okay for her." Jack wasn't so sure it should work that way.

"Not so fast, kids," Mrs. Erikson interrupted their exploration as she came in followed by the movers. "I don't want anyone going into the east wing just yet until I get a good look at it."

"Ahh..." Kyle whined, and his shoulders drooped.

"Jack, how about you show them the ballroom upstairs and your bedroom. You two can put your coats in there for the time being," she suggested as she turned toward the movers. "Just put that fern down next to the desk," she instructed the workmen as they carried in a large potted plant.

"Come on, guys," Jack directed, and he led the way up the stairs. He didn't want to be caught in the unpacking mess that was sure to follow.

Their guide led them up the stairs and stopped in front of the double doors leading to the ballroom. He tested the knob and found the entranced unlocked, so he gingerly pushed open the door. Jack leaned into the darkness that lay beyond while the other two stuck their heads in. The wide room was blanketed in darkness except for the light streaming in behind them. They could see the walls were of finished wood and the smooth dance floor shone even beneath a thin layer of dust. Tall chairs covered in white cloth were stacked up on one side of the large room while folded tables lined the wall directly to their right.

"Well, go on, fearless leader," Kyle encouraged, and he gave Jack a gentle push.

Jack, unprepared for the shove, stumbled a few feet into the room and was barely able to keep himself from falling onto the dusty veneer. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the two snickering in the doorway before he heard a light step in front of where he stood.

He jerked forward and his eyes flickered over the dark shadows which lay beyond the short stream of light. His breath came out in a puff of chilly air as he felt a distinct draft blow by him. He shivered for a moment, reminded of his nightmare, and half expected to hear the ominous footsteps fast approaching. The gathering horror, however, was suddenly dispelled as the lights above came on.

Jack turned to find Kyle standing beside the light switch just inside the door.

"Creepy, isn't it?" he admitted as he stepped forward. Kyle noticed his friend's pale face and set a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry about that, couldn't help it."

"It's...it's fine," Jack stuttered as he managed to gather his wits. He glanced around to garner a more thorough look of the room.

The light above came from several dozen small chandeliers, miniature replicas of the one which hung in the lobby. They were suspended a dozen feet off the floor on a ceiling made from a material as white as marble and speckled with tiny pieces of colored rocks. The look created the effect of standing inside a brightly lit cave filled with flickering glass.

"Well, this is the ballroom," he introduced, and he swept his arm over the room. "Not really too much here," he disappointingly commented. He'd been hoping for some more impressive, and while the room's natural workings were extravagant, the evident neglect was disheartening.

"But it would be an awesome place to hold a party," Kyle encouraged. Amanda moved to stand at their sides. "Your mom would be thrilled to cook for a party here, wouldn't she, Amanda?" he asked.

"Well, she has been dying to see what the Olsens did to the place," she admitted as she slowly drifted to the center of the room. Her eyes flitted nervously to the covered furniture. "But right now it's kind of spooky."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. He stepped back to stand next to her. "Maybe we should just go to my room."

"Is there a bathroom there?" the young girl asked as she blushed. "I kind of need to go."

"Yeah, every room's got one," he informed. The three turned back to the doors.

This time the boys tried not to rush the door, but they could consciously feel their feet quickly carry them from the room. Kyle ended being closest to the switches and was forced to shut off the lights before he beat a hasty retreat. The doors were closed with a sharper clang than he intended, and he spun around to his friends.

"Hehe, sorry," he lamely laughed.

"It's all right," Jack soothed. He gestured toward the hall on their left. "My bedroom's this way."

The small group rounded the corner and reached the end of the hall without mishap. Jack was happy to see his mom had found the switch to the passage's lights.

"That's my mom's room," he noted as he pointed at her door. "And this one at the end of the hall's mine."

"How'd you get the one on the corner?" Kyle asked. Jack opened the door and allowed them through.

"Just lucky I guess," Jack evasively answered. No sense bringing up his grandfather yet, they were scared enough already. Besides, he was on his mom's orders not to tell them. "The bathroom's through that door," he informed Amanda as he gestured toward the left.

"Thanks," she replied. She flung her coat on the end table and quickly walked into it.

"So what's on the agenda for exploring after this break?" Kyle asked as he flung himself comfortably onto the bed.

"I don't really know," Jack admitted with a shrug. "This place is pretty boring for a lot of kids our age, especially since you said there weren't really any ghosts around."

"To be honest, that's not really true..." Kyle admitted. He voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes kept glancing at the closed bathroom door. "One of my old babysitters used to work here, and she told me about a guest or something, some lady, being attacked by the ghost."

"What happened to her?" Jack asked, intrigued by this new angle to the story.

"Don't know, she's not too interested in telling that story," the boy replied. They heard the toilet flush in the other room. "Just don't tell Amanda, okay?" he pleaded as he looked up into his friend's face. "She really, really doesn't like spooky stuff, and I don't wanna scare her too bad." Then he paused and tapped his chin. "Well, not yet, at least," he added with a mischievous grin.

"I won't," Jack agreed with a friendly wink. The door to the bathroom opened.

"Thanks for letting me use it," she quietly thanked.

"No problem."

"What do you guys wanna do now?" Kyle asked them.

"Not sure, to be honest," Jack admitted. He shrugged and crossed his arms. "I haven't had time to explore much myself, so I'm not sure what's interesting."

"We could go outside before it gets dark," his friend suggested, and he nodded toward the window. "I heard say there's a cemetery on the property somewhere."

"You sure do know a lot of creepy stuff around here," their host commented.

"That's my specialty," Kyle proudly announced, and he puffed out his chest. "Searching for ghouls, goblins and ghosts is my calling."

"But do we always have to look for dead people?" Amanda asked. She looked the most nervous of them all. "Why not some deer or something?"

"Well, we could look for those, too," he agreed with a shrug. "But I really wanna see if there's a cemetery back there," he grinned widely with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Then his face turned a little more serious and he leaned in toward Jack. "And I wanna see what your mom's hiding in that east wing."

"Probably nothing, since she doesn't know what's in there herself," Jack pointed out. "And are you sure there's a cemetery around here? Are those really supposed to be on private property?" he doubtfully inquired. He could only imagine the trouble they would get into in both the cemetery and east wing trespasses.

"I've heard this one is," Kyle informed with a solemn nod. He folded his arms across his chest. "I think it's from when the town was first built, so it should have some pretty cool headstones."

"I guess we could go check it out," his host admitted as his shoulders slumped. His new acquaintance really needed to learn to take a hint of discouragement. "But I don't want to get into trouble if we do find it, and besides, we really shouldn't be snooping around if my mom doesn't want us to," he commented. "In the east wing, or an abandoned cemetery."

"He doesn't want to go, Kyle," Amanda scolded as she scowled at her pushy friend. "So just leave it alone."

"Ah, come on," Kyle egged on as he softly elbowed Jack and gave a wink. "We could have some fun, and no one will get hurt."

"I don't know..." the older boy hesitated as he lifted his head from his arm. "This doesn't sound like a good plan."

"Well, why don't we find out then?" Kyle asked as he pushed his stool back and stood tall. "It'll be one hell of an adventure."

"If we live through it..." Jack muttered.
Chapter 5

Rumors and Secrets

"Well, how about we ask your mom first," Amanda suggested. She shot a death glare at Kyle to dare him to challenge her idea. "Before this ass gets us into enough trouble to join his ghosts."

"I guess that'd be a good idea," Kyle agreed with a sly grin on his face. "Then his mom would know where to pick up our bodies."

The group was at the landing to the stairs when they remembered their coats were still in the room. Somebody would have to go back to get them. They all looked back at the long hallway, and no one was quick to volunteer.

"It's your room, Jack, you go back," Kyle suggested. Amanda scowled at him.

"How about you go back there and Jack and I find his mom to ask for permission?" she shot back

"Why can't I go with Jack?" her old friend whined.

"Because it was my idea to ask permission."

Kyle's shouldered slumped and he huffed, but didn't argue. Then he straightened up and performed a salute.

"This brave soldier accepts his task with honor and dignity." He shot back down the hall at breakneck speed.

"Dignity indeed," Amanda quipped.

Jack rolled his eyes, but at least they didn't have a long wait. Kyle shot into the bedroom, there was a short pause, and then he burst out and slammed the door behind him. If anything, he was even faster coming back than on the way to the room.

"I think you almost broke a land speed record," Amanda snickered. They noticed, however, that his face was pale and his eyes wide. He was breathing heavily, too, but not just from the exercise.

"Is there...anyone else...here?" he asked between gasps as Amanda took her and Jack's coats. He slumped against the wall, exhausted and terrified.

"Besides us and the movers, no. Why?" Jack asked his acquaintance, realizing his own voice sounded kind of shaky. He gave a thanks to Amanda for his jacket.

"I thought I saw someone standing in a corner of your room when I ran inside," Kyle explained as his body shivered. "But when I blinked, there wasn't anything there."

"Now you're just making up stories to scare us," Amanda argued as she frowned and put on her coat.

"What did they look like?" Jack asked him.

"I don't know, I didn't really get a good look," the younger boy admitted. He leaned heavily against the closest wall. His legs were too shaky to hold him. "But the thing was pretty tall and was wearing some black clothes." He turned around and, frightened, looked over his shoulder. "He looked just like the ghost is supposed to look."

Jack and Amanda exchanged uneasy glances as Mrs. Erikson noticed them on the landing. She also saw their coats in their hands and on their shoulders.

"You three going outside?" she called up. Jack went over to the railing.

"Yeah, just going to show them the gazebo and stuff," Jack explained. He could feel Amanda burning a hole through his head, though, for him to tell the full truth. "We were kinda wondering if we could go into the woods, too."

"The woods?" That got her attention enough to have her stop directing the movers and walk up to them. "Why were you wanting to go in there?"

"There's supposed to be this really cool cemetery in there," Kyle eagerly explained. He'd recovered for his scare and wanted more of it. "You know, with some really old graves and stuff."

"Mr. Merchan told me about it," Mrs. Erikson admitted. She didn't look too thrilled with them going there, though. "What were you going to do there?"

"Just look at the graves and stuff. We weren't going to hurt them or anything," he swore.

"If you three promise to be careful," she hesitantly agreed. "And you need to watch out for holes in the ground. This whole place sits on one big fissure, and I remember a lot of holes in those woods."

"Fissure?" Amanda didn't understand that word.

"Cracks in the earth," Emily explained to the young girl. "If you three promise not to get off the path, I'll let you go there."

"No problem," Kyle promised, then he frowned. "Where is the path, anyway?"

"It's along the far left side of the bottom of the field," she answered him. She glanced over to her son, the unelected leader of the group. "You promise you'll be back before four?"

"I'll make sure we are," Jack agreed. He wasn't going to be out there longer than he had to.

"Well then, you three had better go off before the sun starts setting."

"Thanks, Mrs. Erikson!" Kyle practically dragged his unwilling fellow adventurers down the stairs and out the back doors in the dining room. He was the only one looking forward to this crazy tour.

"Not so hard!" Amanda scolded, and she shrugged off his hand. "It's not like we don't have a few hours."

"I wanted to get out of there before she changed her mind," Kyle defended himself. They stepped through the French doors and out onto the patio.

"I wish..." Jack muttered.

"Can we look at the east part of the inn before we go find the cemetery?" Kyle requested. He pointed toward the direction of that part of the building.

"If you wanna run into another ghost, sure," Jack sighed. He led the two toward the opposing part of the structure.

The group only had a few dozen yards to walk before they hit the east wing. The point of beginning was unmistakable.

Unlike the rest of the structure which was relatively clear of plants, the entire eastern portion of the back of the inn was covered in overgrown vines. They separated the wing from the rest of the inn like an impenetrable column of thorns and leaves. The walls were so thick with layer upon layer of ancient vines, both living and dead, that they could hardly tell where the vegetation stopped and the structure began. The east wing was essentially entombed in those vines, and no living soul could fathom a way to garner entrance.

Well, at least the three teenagers were stumped.

"Dang," Kyle commented as he reached up and pulled at one of the massive branches. A few dead leaves rained down on his head. "It's like a living wall," he noted as he tried to peer around it.

"Or a dead one," Amanda whispered. Her wide eyes gazed over the high wall.

"What are you looking for now?" Jack asked in exasperation as Kyle kept pulling at more vines. He was really getting tired of being the guide to a place he didn't know very well for people he wasn't familiar with. "There isn't anything special about it."

"I can't find any windows," Kyle pointed out as he squinted his eyes.

"He's actually right for once," Amanda agreed. Kyle shot her a glare, but she ignored him. "I don't see any windows, either."

Jack had to admit there didn't appear to be any windows or frames in view, but the foliage was so thick he figured they were hidden. His roving eyes spotted a shed behind the bushes far off the patio in front of them, and he was about to mention getting some tools before he quickly changed his mind. He not only believed the shed would be locked, but he didn't really want Kyle taking an ax or a shovel to the side of the building.

"Let's leave it alone then," he noted, and he looked to Amanda for support. "There's other things we can go see."

"Lemme try to get one of these vines loose," Kyle pleaded as he tugged harder. A few vines pulled loose at his insistence. "See? Nothing to it," he bragged as he hung his full weight on the branches.

Amanda and Jack stood back as they watched the entire wall shift and shake from the boy's efforts. Leaves fell down like a torrential storm of brown matter and covered Kyle's head and clothes. He kept shaking, however, and soon they could glimpse a part of the stone wall and some half rotted wood.

"That's not the window frame," Jack realized. He stepped forward while Kyle paused to admire his handiwork. "It's a board."

"Yeah, it looks pretty big," Kyle agreed as he rapped on the wood. "I think it's covering the window."

"Lemme see," Amanda pleaded as she squeezed between the boys. She narrowed her eyes as she, too, inspected the wood. "Yep, definitely some kind of a plank," she informed them. Her companions looked at each other and rolled her eyes.

"Well, now that Captain Obvious has struck again, how do we get in?" Kyle asked of his two friends.

"We don't," Jack replied as he glared at his guest. "My mom told us to stay out and I'm not going sacrifice my life for your curiosity."

"Can we at least get a glimpse inside?" the younger boy pleaded as he turned to look at the patchy wood. "Look how rotten this stuff is, there's gotta be an opening somewhere that can give us a peak. Help me look."

"Oh no, not me," Jack answered. Amanda carefully brushed aside a few of the vines.

Jack watched with a mix of apprehension and amusement as the two old friends tried to find a hint of sunlight breaking through the boards. They looked around the edge and tapped hard on the wood, but the piece had been firmly hammered into place. Its intent had been to ward off curiosity seekers and thieves alike, and it was doing a find job of knocking back the first group. Jack leaned his back against the open wall of the west wing in protest as Kyle and Amanda tried pulling back some of the cracked wood shards.

"Dang, doesn't look like we're getting in through here," Kyle grimly announced, and he stepped back defeated. Jack was glad for his disappointment as his friend turned to him. He wasn't sure what they would have done if they had succeeded in getting inside. "Now you guys ready to go to the cemetery?" Kyle asked them.

"How about we start with the backyard?" Jack suggested. He hoped he could stall long enough for time to run out. "There's a gazebo out there that gives a pretty good view."

He conducted them along the stone path which led to the dilapidated gazebo. Amanda was more interested in the structure than Kyle, but Jack assumed his heart was still set on either seeing inside the east wing or going to find the cemetery. He had to show them the boards were safe as he led by example, but the view was admirable as they stepped over to the far side of the gazebo.

"Not too bad, hunh?" he asked with a smile on his lips.

"That's a lot of land," Kyle complimented as his eyes scanned the tree line.

"Yeah," Amanda nodded. She looked up at the mountains. "You can't even tell this view exists from the town. It just looks like mountains passed the inn."

"Man, it would have been cool if the Olsons would have let us out here once in a while," the younger boy complained. "I mean, we could've held all our baseball games back here if they would've let us."

"How long did they own the inn?" Jack asked.

"Like forever," Kyle informed as he tested the weak railing with a small shake. A few splinters poked out and he decided against leaning on the wood. "Their family bought it from some other people who owned it, and that was like twenty years ago."

"Yeah, forever ago," Jack agreed in a lightly sarcastic tone. "So they couldn't keep it running?" he prodded as he turned back to look at the grand inn.

"Pretty much," the young boy told him with a shrug. "Kinda ran it into the ground since they couldn't get many people to visit."

"My great grandma said they didn't really know how to run an inn," Amanda chimed in. She tested out one of the main supports. The roof didn't shake with her push so she gingerly put her weight on the board. "They didn't let anyone from town help keep the place up and their prices were way too high."

"Your grandma would know," Kyle lightly teased as he turned to Jack. "But I hope your mom can get the place busy like it used to be," he encouraged. He lightly punched Jack on the shoulder. "My grandma's told me about all the parties they used to have at the inn when she was a girl, and how a lot of famous people used to line up to visit it."

"I hope so, too," Jack agreed with a sigh. "She's put a lot of money into buying it, so I'm not sure what we'd do if we lost the place." He looked out onto the great expanse of land and building which now encompassed his entire world. To lose it all would devastate his mom, and he could bring her no comfort.

"Well, aren't we cheerful?" Amanda interrupted. She pushed off against the beam. The structure shifted a little and she looked up with a nervous twitter. "Maybe we need to find something else to do other than stay inside this rotting thing."

"You're right," Kyle agreed as he sternly nodded his head. "Weren't we gonna to go look for that cemetery?" he asked as he turned to Jack.

"That was your plan," Jack emphasized. He wanted no part in planning this plot. "But I guess we can see if it's close to the grass. I mean, if it's not too far into the trees it should be easy to visit."

"Great!" his friend excitedly agreed. Kyle's eyes scanned the long line of trees, and then he frowned. "Where do we start?"

"How about we follow the trees?" Amanda suggested. She pointed up to the edge of the line closest to the inn. It was no use avoiding Kyle's wishes anymore, and she was a little curious to go into the trees to look for cute wild animals. "We can start where it goes down the hill and kinda walk around the left side of the field until we find it."

"A great idea!" Kyle shouted. He jumped over the stairs of the gazebo and landed on the grass outside.

Amanda followed, but Jack held back. He had been warned by his grandfather to stay far from the tree line, but he hadn't been told why and how far. Maybe if they just kinda skirted the trees he wouldn't be breaking his promise.

"Let's try to stay out of the trees as much as possible, though," he reiterated as he followed them up the hill the short distance to the start of the meadow. "You know, until we find the path."

"Why?" Kyle asked as he turned to squint suspiciously at Jack. "Is there something you forgot to tell us?"

"Hehe, not really," Jack replied with a nervous laugh. "It's just that, ya know, it's going to take a while to follow the trees, so I just thought we'd try to cover as much ground as possible."

"Bah, we've got plenty of time before we have to leave," the younger boy countered with an incredulous expression. "Now come on, the more eyes we have the more likely we're going to be to find the place."

The three companions slowly began to pace the edge of the field. Their eyes were on the shadowed interior of the woods. Even in the light of the day the gloom in the thick, overgrown forest was oppressive. Ancient trees with wide trunks lorded over fallen comrades and thorny bushes stuck out into the meadow. Rot permeated the air. Seedlings encroached on the lawn as the group tripped over a few of the trees' children scattered in the grass.

The thing the friends noticed was the lack of sound. Their own footsteps crunched through piles of dead leaves and their breath through puffs of air into the cold sky, but there was nothing else. No wild bird sounded their mournful cry against the coming winter, no squirrel skittered away at the sound of their approach. It was as if the very nature of the forest had swallowed itself into an existence of self-perpetuating rot.

Jack looked up as a cool wind swept past them. The trees overhead creaked and groaned, complaining against the slight intrusion of the moving air into their domain. The fallen leaves scattered into the wind and dust devils took flight only to be swallowed by the shadows beyond the tree line.

"Jesus, it's quiet," Kyle murmured against the silence. The other two couldn't fight against the oppressive quiet and merely nodded their heads. "I mean, shouldn't we be hearing some bird or something?" he suggested as his voice grew louder. He stopped and, as leader in this expedition, nearly caused the whole party to collide into him. "I mean, wake up, world!" he called out as he flailed his arms.

The world responded by rushing past them with a flurry of wind and leaves. The companions pulled their coats against themselves and lowered their heads to protect against the onslaught of cold air.

"Maybe we should go back to the inn," Jack suggested as he raised his voice above the wind. The words were carried away almost as quickly as they left his mouth. "There's not-"

"There!" Kyle cried out as he suddenly pointed into the dense brush. "I think I see a trail." His companions squinted into the dusk of the thick foliage and their eyes did notice an old footpath, partially grown over and covered by the fallen leaves. "Come on!" he shouted above the wind as he led the way into the foreboding woods.

Jack, the most hesitant to enter and thus at the rear, looked behind them as wind appeared to push them along the path. They had only gone about a dozen yards in, however, when they realized they had escaped the wild air only to find themselves caught in the dense brush.

The air was oppressive in the midst of such rot and vegetation which lay along the damp ground. They felt they could hardly breath from the suffocation of a nature passed over by man and forsaken by wild creatures. Shadows lurked on all sides of the long disused path and the silence caused them to flinch at every step they took. The sounds of their feet echoed off the ancient trunks. The sunlight above them was completely eclipsed by the thick canopy and behind them the foliage hid their slow progression into the trees. If they became lost, their trail wouldn't be found by even the sharpest tracker.

Jack's attention to their eerie surroundings, unfortunately, led his foot to find a thick root and before he could catch himself he was stumbling forward. The effect was like a game of dominoes as he fell into Amanda, who then crashed into Kyle. The three went down together into a heap of legs as the two at the bottom struggled to avoid the rough, moldy ground. Then Kyle made it worse.

"Lose some weight, guys!" he yelled with a mouth full of wet dirt. He managed to slide out from beneath them.

"What did you say?" Amanda hissed as she struggled to her feet. Her hand grasped a thin, rounded stone for support. "Repeat that one more time," she dared as Kyle glared back.

"Um, guys?" Jack interrupted as he pointed at the stone Amanda was leaning against. "I think we found it."

The two friends looked down at the smooth surface of the rock and Amanda let out a yelp as she jerked her arm back. Her hand had been resting on a weathered gravestone covered by a thick layer of moss. She pulled her hand against her chest and stepped back, but bumped into another stone behind her just off the trail.

"Watch it!" Kyle warned as she shrunk back onto the path.

The companions turned this way and that, and their eyes grew wide.

All around them stood dozens of aged stones carved with the final remembrances of lives long extinguished. Etched in rock were names and dates, a final testament to people who were no longer remembered by the living. The only witnesses to their existences were the overgrown weeds and thick ferns which covered and obscured their epitaphs.

"Oh, wow," Kyle whistled as he stepped up to the gravestone Amanda had first found. He wiped away the years of mold and dirt to reveal a name and date. "Agatha Hemsley, aged forty-five," he read as he scuttled over to another tomb. "Wow, this one doesn't even have dates," he noted. "Elizabeth Collins," he repeated as his eyes wandered lower. "Resting In Peace Eternal."

"You guys notice anything weird about all these graves?" Amanda quietly asked. Her eyes drifted over the markers, and she couldn't help but shiver. This place felt so cold to her.

"No, what?" Kyle replied.

"Well, they're all about the same age," she pointed out. "Like they all died at the same time or something."

"Well, whatever you guys do don't touch anything else," Jack pleaded as he tried to stay on the trail. Where the graveyard began, the bare ground of the path seemed to melt away into the deep weeds and brush. If they all lost the trail they would be at the mercy of blind, dumb luck. "My mom will kill me if we broke anything."

"Well, she's got a great spot to put you," Kyle joked, but the humor fell flat in the oppressive silence.

"I'm serious," he implored. He helplessly watched his eager friend go from one grave to the next. He knew his voice held a panicked tone, but the air was starting to effect him. He wanted to leave. "We really shouldn't be here."

"I'm with Jack, Kyle," Amanda supported as she hid behind him, away from those horrible testaments to death. "We need to leave."

"We're not doing anything, just looking," Kyle argued as he brushed off another block of stone. "Wow, this kid was our age when he died," he commented in awe as he looked at all the covered stones. "There must be a couple dozen people buried here."

"And that's that many people we should be leaving alone," Jack instructed. He braved his fear and stepped off the path to take hold of Kyle's shoulders. Against his friend's arguments he led him back to where they'd come. "Now let's get back before something bad happens."

"Bad?" Kyle asked as he dug his heels into the ground. He raised a brow and frowned when he looked into the older boy's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you feel it?" Jack asked, and he looked around the silent forest.

The shadows were darker here, as though the very ground was cloaked in a funeral shroud imperceptible to their eyes. They could only feel the tattered edges of the grave-cloth as it enveloped their minds and souls. Its dampness vanished thoughts of joy and memories of bright days under wistful summer suns. One could only be reminded of future visions filled with long, slow funeral processions and dampened eyes sniffling beneath the droning sound of a preacher praying for eternal peace.

This was a place for the dead, not for the living.

"There's something not right here," Amanda murmured. "Something sad about this place."

Kyle stiffened and they listened as all their eyes slowly moved over the old, molding growth and long-forgotten tombs. More time had passed in their search than they realized as the limited light overhead was growing weaker against the fall day. The shadows were lengthening as the dim path became more obscure with each passing minute. Soon they would be left with very little light to find their way back to the field.

"Hehe, I see your point," Kyle agreed. He stood straight and raised his hand. "All those in favor of evacuating this spooky place, raise your hands." Two other arms quickly shot up. "The motion is unanimous, let's get the hell out of here."

Without any more prodding the three took off down the path in a strong but careful gallop. They jumped over the rotted logs and crashed through the brush as they fought their way to release. The group was well rewarded as light appeared through the tunnel of brush, and they came tumbling out of the forest close beside one another. For a moment they all were hunched over gasping for breath amidst the cool smell of the field and the feel of the fresh air against their faces. Soon, however, they had recovered sufficiently to look back to the path.

The awning mouth of the woods was deceptively calm as the shadows stretched out toward them, eagerly inviting them back. They didn't take the invitation, but they were all a little ashamed of their terror-stricken exit from the woods. The companions were quiet for a time before Kyle stretched up his arms and gave a wide, fake yawn.

"Well, I'm ready to call this a day," Kyle proclaimed with a grin on his face. "We'll have to do this again another time," he mimicked in a sweet, genteel accent.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Amanda darkly muttered with a frowned.

Jack smiled as he watched his new friends bicker about the day's excitement. He turned his eyes up at the sky and closed his eyes when a fresh breeze came tumbling along the grass.

The day hadn't turned out so bad.
Chapter 6

Introductions Are In Order

The group of friends trudged up the hill and along the stone path leading to the inn. They were congratulating themselves on a day well done when they glimpsed Mrs. Erikson standing on the patio impatiently awaiting their arrival. She was smiling when they walked up to her, but the corners of her mouth dropped a little in concern when she noticed their pale faces. She already knew the answer to her question, but she asked anyway.

"Did you manage to find the cemetery?" she questioned. There was a teasing grin on her face as she observed the dead leaves and mud on their clothes.

"Yeah, it was pretty cool," Jack quickly explained before Kyle could open his mouth. "We kinda got a little carried away around the paths, though," he truthfully, but vaguely explained.

"So I see," his mom agreed with a laugh. She stepped aside for them to enter the inn. "Let's get you guys cleaned up and ready to go, your ride should be here soon," she informed.

"What time is it?" Amanda asked in surprise.

"Only about one," Emily informed as they moved the conversation indoors. "But I just got a call from your moms saying there were some things you needed to help them with, so they wanted to pick you guys up at two," she explained as she glanced over their filthy cloths. "And by the looks of it, we'd better get you guys looking a little less worse for wear before I hand you back."

"Great, probably wants us helping on that stupid anniversary thing," Jack heard Kyle mutter.

The mother herded her disappointed and grumbling charges through the rooms and up the stairs toward the occupied bedrooms. Jack noticed Kyle was a little hesitant to go up to his room, but with his mom in the lead he braved his fear and followed. Jack had to admit that being at the end of the hallway, even with it lit, would be pretty creepy up there all alone. The passage was long enough the shadows could make anyone believe there was someone standing at the end. The dark rooms weren't helpful, either.

"You and Jack can go wash up in his room while I take Amanda into mine," Mrs. Erikson instructed. She took a gentle hold of the girl's shoulders and led her into her room. "Don't be too long, we don't want to keep Mrs. Huxley waiting."

"K, mom," Jack called as the boys entered his bedroom. He threw his coat on the end table and plopped down on the bed to take off his dirty shoes. His eyes wandered over to a stack of boxes with his name written on them in his mother's neat handwriting. Thanks to the movers, he had a lot of unpacking to do later. "Dang, I didn't realize how messy that path was," he noted as the mud caked off the soles of his shoes.

"Tell me about it," Kyle agreed with his friend. He peeled off his coat and dropped it on the floor. His adventure at the bottom of the pile had made him especially dirty. "Mind if I take a quick shower?" he asked as he walked toward the bathroom.

"Only if you-" Jack began as the door slammed behind the younger boy. "Hurry..." he finished, and he heard the water run.

Kyle was a little slow in washing the dirt off himself, and the boys found themselves running a little too close to time. Jack grimaced when he heard a knock on his door and he stood from the bed to answer the call. He'd changed clothes, so he had no problem finding his mother on the other side.

"Are you guys ready?" she asked as she peeked inside.

"Almost," he informed, and he jerked his thumb back to the bathroom door. "Kyle wanted to take a shower, so we'll be down in about another millennium."

"Well, tell him to only use water for half that time," she teased in her turn. "The hot water tank is going to run dry at this rate," she added with a wink.

"No problem," he assured, and she walked back down the hall.

He leaned out and watched his mother and Amanda stroll toward the lobby, probably discussing the numerous deficiencies in boys. He rolled his eyes, then closed the door. Jack strode over to the bathroom door and banged his fist against the door. He heard the sound of running water from the sink. The shower had been shut off, which gave him hope.

"Are you done yet?" he called in an exasperated voice.

"Almost, gotta shave," was the awkward reply.

Jack blinked for a few seconds trying to take in the idea of his smooth-faced, young friend shaving. Then the door suddenly opened and he nearly tumbled into the bathroom. Kyle stood there refreshed and in his clothes. They had been scrubbed with a well-meaning but inexperienced hand.

"All done," he announced as he gave a wide grin. Jack lamely clapped and Kyle scowled as he passed by his host. Kyle wandered over to his coat which still lay on the floor. "If you're going to be that way, I won't let you in on my business deal."

"Business deal?" Jack repeated as he blinked his eyes.

"Yep," Kyle replied. He turned around and gravely nodded his head. "I have an assignment for you to perform which could make us rich," he explained as he shiftily looked around the relatively empty room. Figuring the suite to be safe, he slowly pulled a bundle of paper out of an inside coat pocket. "These are going to help you find the ghost for me."

"Um, I don't really want to find a ghost," Jack objected. The packet was still thrust into his unwilling hands. "And what are these?" he asked as he looked over the cover of the top page.

The front page showed a woman being attacked by some sort of monster shrouded in black. The title of the magazine was emblazoned on the cover in red lettering with blood dripping down the page, and read Horrendous Tales of Horror.

"Research material," Kyle informed with a solemn nod. "So you can recognize the signs of an otherworldly visitor." He edged closer to his friend and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "And if you do find something out, feel free to recruit my services for the capture and possible extermination."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Jack sarcastically agreed. He set the papers down on the end table. He'd need to burn those later. "But for now we'd better head down before my mom gets mad enough to turn us into ghosts."

The boys hurried down to the lobby and found Mrs. Erikson impatiently looking at the grandfather clock. She frowned as the hands ticked onward and there was no sign of Mrs. Huxley's car. Jack also wasn't too thrilled with the delay.

"I think I'll give your mother a call, Amanda, just to make sure she's coming," she informed, and she picked up the phone receiver. She removed a piece of scrap paper from her pocket and carefully dialed the number. She had to wait a few moments before someone picked up. "Hello? Is this Mrs. Huxley? This is Mrs. Erikson, I was just wondering if you were going to be here soon?"

Kyle poked Jack's ribs and snickered.

"Wouldn't it be great if we could stay the night?" he asked.

Jack wasn't so sure he could handle the younger boy's weirdness longer than an afternoon, but to be kind he smiled and nodded.

"Oh, well, if it can't be avoided," they heard Mrs. Erikson comment to the person on the other line. "We'll see you at four then." Jack watched his mother hang up the phone in a defeated clank and her lips pursed together. She looked to the trio of kids who were staring at her expectantly. "I'm afraid Mrs. Huxley won't be here until four," she informed the group with a heavy sigh. "Something's come up, but she said she'd try to get here sooner if she can."

"Great!" Kyle exclaimed, but the worried expression on Mrs. Erikson's face gave him chilled his enthusiasm. "Heh, sorry," he apologized.

"No, that's fine," she replied, and he pinched the bridge of her nose. "I...I just wasn't expecting to feed you guys another meal," she explained as she looked to her teenage charges. "I hope there's enough food in the cupboards."

Jack looked at his mother strangely, as did their two guests. They had all seen the condition of the cupboards during their view of the kitchen. and knew there was enough food to feed a small army.

"Anything you cook would be great, Mrs. Eri-," Kyle began, but he cut his sentence short when the mother suddenly slammed her hand down on the front desk.

"That's it!" she exclaimed with a triumphant grin on her face. She turned toward the desk and started rummaging through the papers with a desperation which startled the onlookers. "Now if I can only find those dang things..." she muttered to herself.

"Were you perhaps looking for these?" a voice suddenly interrupted her searching.

The group whipped around to find Jack's grandfather standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed in a dark vest with a black dress shirt and striped black dress pants. His eyes were covered by those strange glasses and one of his arms was outstretched. In his long, pale hand he held the keys to his car.

Jack looked nervously at his two friends, and he was startled to see that their faces were as white as sheets. Kyle snapped out of his shock earlier than Amanda, but Jack noticed his acquaintances ease their way behind him.

"Dad!" Emily yelped in surprise. Her eyes darted to the visitors and then back to him. Her face held a hint of a guilty expression. "What in the world are you doing out here?"

"I heard voices," he commented offhandedly, and he looked at the two guests. "Young voices."

"Oh, well, it was only Jack's new friends," she informed with a forced laugh. She stepped up and laid her hands on Jack and Kyle's shoulders. "They went exploring around the inn and were just getting ready to leave."

"Did they?" he asked as he looked to Jack. "Exploring where?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, just everywhere," Kyle nonchalantly as he broke the tension. He held up his hand and started ticking off the rooms. "We got to see the ballroom, the kitchen, the lawn, some trees, found th-"

Kyle suddenly clutched at his stomach, as Jack had elbowed him in the ribs. Jack knew the younger boy was about to blurt out their trespass and discovery at the far end of the meadow, and he wanted to avoid his grandfather's wrath.

"Jack, why on earth did you do that?" his mother scolded, and she she glared at her progeny. "Now apologize," she ordered.

"No, no need," Kyle croaked with a grin. He straightened himself and then puffed out his chest in a strange attempt at triumph. "I asked him to do that."

"You did?" Mrs. Erikson questioned. She narrowed her eyes. "When?"

"Earlier, he must have just remembered," Kyle lamely explained. "Looks like I'll have to work on those stomach muscles, eh Jack?" he asked, and he gave Jack a wink.

"What?" Jack blurted out before he caught his friend's meaning. "Oh, yeah, right," he agreed with a nervous snicker as his eyes darted to his grandfather. The older gentleman didn't appear to believe their comedic reasons.

"Boys..." Mrs. Erikson muttered as Amanda gave a definite nod. "Well, I suppose I should introduce you two to my father," she relented, and she stepped between the visitors and her parent. "Amanda Huxley, Kyle Skinner, meet my father, Mr. William Pyre."

"Hi," Kyle greeted with a wave of his hand while Amanda gave a weak nod.

"A pleasure," Mr. Pyre returned with a deep, elegant bow.

"He's staying with us for a short while," Emily explained to them. She gave him a look daring him to counter her claim. "Until we get settled, that is."

"Glad to see Jack's got a man to talk to," Kyle complimented. He stepped up and held out his hand for the gentleman to shake. "Always good to have a father figure in the house." Jack noticed the corners of his mom's mouth twitched, but she refrained from commenting. His grandfather grinned and took the offered hand, giving a firm shake as Kyle flinched. "Nice grip," he squeaked out.

Any further discussion was postponed when they suddenly heard the sound of a car drive up the road.

"Oh, that must be Mrs. Huxley," Mrs. Erikson excitedly informed. She quickly strode up to the front windows and pulled aside the light curtains. "Never mind, it looks like it's Kyle's mom, but I'm sure you two won't mind which vehicle it is," she mused as she let the curtain drop. "You two got everything?"

"Yep," Kyle and Amanda replied, one with more enthusiasm than the other.

As they put on their coats and Emily mom opened the door, Jack noticed Kyle give a quick glance toward his grandfather before they were escorted outside. As the group approached the vehicle now idling in the driveway, Kyle slyly sidled up to Jack.

"I'll get a hold of you later," he whispered with a wink. "I've got something I want to ask."

Jack could only nod as Kyle and Amanda clambered into the waiting vehicle. Mrs Erikson and Mrs. Skinner exchanged a few polite apologies, one for being late and the other for being impatient. Then the car slowly pulled away and began traveling down the road. Jack waved to his friends as Kyle plastered his face against the window with a wide grin across his lips before Amanda roughly pulled him back. Jack's mom stepped up beside him with a soft chuckle.

"That Kyle sure is a strange one," she commented.

"No kidding," Jack agreed, and he leaned forward and groaned. "I wonder if I had that much energy at that age."

"Getting old?" his mom teased. She grabbed him from behind and started tickling his sides.

"Hey! Stop!" he shouted through yelps of laughter. The young man struggled to break her grip.

As he gasped for air he finally managed to escape from her clutches and turn the tables on her. His counterattack took her by surprise as he dodged around her and encircled her within his own arms. Knowing her weak points to be the same as his own, she was soon struggling out of his grasp.

"You're getting stronger," she complimented in between gasps after they had broke apart. A sad smile crossed her face. "Just like your father." Jack humbly smiled with appreciation for the compliment as his mom looked up at the sky. "Well, looks like your friends had good timing coming today," she pointed out, and she turned to her son. "Rain's coming."

The skies were indeed darkening as the air became tinted with the sweet smell of fresh water. The two headed for the entrance to the inn as the first patters of rain began pelting the ground. Under the protection of the entrance arch, mother and son turned around and watched as nature opened up the clouds. The rain came pouring down by the bucket-fulls. Streams formed along the dirt paths and unkept gravel. The dark skies suddenly reminded Jack of something he had noticed earlier in the day.

"Oh, congrats on finding the light switch to the hall lights," he teased his mom. She, for her part, turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. A shiver ran up his spine at her reply.

"But I haven't found it yet."

The wind picked up and the rain began pelting them, forcing them back a few feet into the doorway.

"Perhaps it was just your grandfather being helpful again," his mom suggested. "But for now we'd better get inside."

The inn was hardly comforting as mother and son trudged back inside to escape the weather. They silently took off their coats beneath the glow of the chandelier, and hung them along the pegs beside the front desk meant for such clothing. At the departure of his guests Jack felt the weight of the the day's adventures and he had to stifle a yawn. His eyes would hardly stay open as he looked up the stairs where his room lay. The bed tempted his thoughts with dreams of down comforters and fluffy pillows.

"Maybe you should get some rest," his mom put forth. She gave wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "And when you're ready I can have some hot dinner waiting for you when you come down," she offered.

"Sure, sounds good," Jack replied. He let out a another small yawn. "I am kinda tired," he admitted, and he walked toward the stairs.

"See you later," she called out.

He didn't turn around, only raised his arm in goodbye as he stumbled up the stairs. She frowned when he came to the landing and walked out of sight around the corner. Then she moved her eyes around the lobby and looked into the shadows.

"Now where are you, old man?" she mumbled to herself, and she wandered off into the dining hall.

Jack slowly walked down the lit corridor toward his room, his thoughts a jumble of the day's events and the expectant rest. He smiled a little as he remembered the exploration with his new friends. He wasn't sure what to make of Kyle's promise to contact him, though. There was only so much of the young lad he could take without being driven insane.

His tranquil thoughts, however, were interrupted as the lights overhead suddenly went out.

He looked up in bewilderment as the hall became shrouded in darkness, lit only by the tall, narrow window at the end. He glanced up and down the hall and he tried to figure out how the lights had gone off. He couldn't tell if the storm had shut down all the electricity to the inn or if only the passage was out of power.

"Jack?" he heard his mom call from the end of the hall. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom," he called back. The young man turned to try and see where she stood. "Is the electricity out?"

"I'm afraid so," she informed him in a grave voice. "But I'm sure the power company will have us out of the dark ages in no time," she joked. "Did you want to trying taking your nap in the lobby?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Jack argued. He habitually shook his head even though she couldn't see the action through the darkness.

"All right, but be careful!" his mom warned, and he heard her walk back downstairs.

"Going forward is probably safer than going back," he mumbled to himself to gain courage, but the lonely sound of his voice only made his hair stand on end.

He placed one hand on the wall and used it as support as he silently crept along the carpeted wood floor toward his bedroom door. His useless eyes darted here and there into the deep shadows all around him wile they blanketed him in their cold arms. He shivered as he forced himself to look forward to the outline of his door, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he could finally place his hand over the knob.

Before he stepped inside the room, Jack heard a noise behind him and looked over his shoulder. Without a windowed outlet, the shadows were even darker down the corridor opposite his room. He didn't take his eyes off the hall as his hand frantically turned the knob. With his focus elsewhere and the darkness hiding the depth, Jack miscalculated his reach when the door opened wide. He tumbled headfirst into the room. He knocked the front of his head against the hardwood floor with a resounding crack, and a flash of pain shot through his body.

The world tumbled before his blurred vision as he tried to focus his eyes on the spinning room. He managed to gather enough coherence to lean against the wall to his left and, using it as support, pull himself to his feet. His eyes were suddenly clouded with a thick liquid, and he reached up a shaking hand. He dipped his fingers into his open head-wound. Blood was running out of the split, and he realized he needed to quickly stop the flow.

Carefully Jack slid around the corner toward the bathroom. He stumbled into the small room and fumbled around for a few moments before his legs collapsed beneath him and he fell to the floor. His hands clawed at the toilet to pull himself up, but his vision was now too blurred and covered in blood to see anything but foggy shadows.

Jack didn't slip into unconsciousness, however, as his brain remained buzzing with thoughts, and sound was still available to him. He tried to move his body, to even open his eyes, but most of his senses were lost. The boy couldn't even stiffen as he felt the slightest hint of vibrations against the linoleum floor. They stopped beside him. A strong pair of arms slid beneath his limp body and slung one arm over a pair of firm shoulders. His mind tried frantically to find meaning to this movement, but he could only groan. His head murmured with the pain while he was carried back into the main part of the bedroom.

Jack was lowered onto his bed and cool fingers brushed aside his hair to look over the wound. He hissed and some control over his body came back as he consciously tried to move away from the probing hand. A grip of iron, however, held one of his shoulders, but the intruding fingers slipped away.

"Mom!" he gasped out, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

"Quiet," a harsh voice whispered.

Jack focused all his energy on opening his eyes and was rewarded when his lids slowly moved up. The sight revealed a dark figure standing at the side of the bed, unmoving as they observed the youth. Against the backdrop of the closed curtains, the boy could hardly make out who had helped him off the floor.

"Grandpa?" Jack asked, and he tried to sit up. He flinched as the pain made its return and the steady hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

"Do not move," his grandfather's voice sharply commanded.

"Ouch," Jack complained, and he flinched when he tried to rest his head on the pillow. "Not good," he murmured when the stinging pain became more pronounced.

His vision was also trying to fail him again as he wiped away more of the thick blood. His fingers trembled as he brought the hand to his face and watched the life fluid slowly dribble down his palm.

"I've done it...this time," he tried to joke. His grandfather didn't find anything amusing about the situation as he pulled a vial out of his vest. He watched as his elder uncorked the small vial and seated himself on the bed. It was probably the most natural position Jack had ever seen his grandfather take. "What's that?" he asked as his eyes looked at the thick liquid in the glass.

"It will sooth the pain for a time," was the reply as he held out the prescription. "Try it," he encouraged.

Jack looked doubtfully at the vial, but with some difficulty he raised himself up to a seated position. The world was swimming and his vision was fogging over as he tried to concentrate on the container and its contents. Slowly he reached out a hand and took the glass. The liquid hardly shifted as he raised the vial to his fogging vision and tried to decipher what the medicine contained.

Jack hesitated a moment longer, his eyes looking over the vial one last time, before he took a deep breath and downed the contents in one gulp. His grandfather took the empty container while Jack shivered at the feel of the thick, cold liquid sliding down his throat. The drink had a sweet flavor to it, but there lingered a bitter aftertaste.

He intended on complaining, but his head still swam and he was slowly lowered onto the pillows. His eyes couldn't keep open as he suddenly felt very cold. His body shivered for a moment but the feel of a cool hand touching his forehead calmed his nerves. He felt a thick cloth carefully applied to his wound and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The moments passed away as he felt himself floating on a cloud. He felt as though a pair of warm arms were wrapped around him and there was a bright, comforting light. He didn't want to wake up, and damned if he was moving from that spot.

"Jack? Jack, are you all right?" he heard a familiar voice call for him. The world was black, but he could feel hands wrapping around his shoulders as they gently shook him. "Jack, wake up," the voice frantically called again, and this time he was able to open his eyes to the worried face of his mother illuminated by the bedside lamp. He blinked against the harsh light. "Thank goodness, I thought you were in a coma or something," she breathed in relief, and she slumped down onto the bed beside him.

"Sorry," he sheepishly apologized while he carefully sat up. He was surprised at the lack of pain, and he reached up to feel the wound. It was gone. "What the..." he mumbled to himself as he tried to find any signs of soreness or bruising.

Even the blood he remembered was gone. He looked at the pillows but they were as white as clean sand and the covers were only musty, not bloody.

"What's wrong?" his mother asked. Her face was pale and he could feel her hands trembling from the scare he'd given her. "Did you hit your head?"

"Yeah, but I'm okay now," he explained, and he tried to slide off the bed. "Guess I didn't hit it too hard."

Her arms held him for a moment longer as she searched his face. He nervously turned away, a little embarrassed by her intense gaze. He honestly couldn't say whether he was telling her the truth, but with no physical evidence he really couldn't convince her that anything had happened. Finally she released him from her inspection and he stood to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and looked toward the window. The storm still hadn't worn itself out yet.

"What time is it?" he asked his mother as she, too, rose to her feet.

"About six," she informed, and he gave a start. "I came up here to ask if you wanted anything to eat, and had a little trouble getting you to wake up," she admitted as she gave him a half smile. "You're getting to be a pretty heavy sleeper," his mom lightly teased.

"It was a rough day," he argued with a laugh. The merriment broke the tense atmosphere between them and his mother broke out in a grin. "When did the lights come back on?" he asked as he looked to the powered lamp.

"About thirty minutes after they shut off," she informed him, and she shook her head. "Not a great start to this adventure, is it?"

"It'll work out," he encouraged, and he gave her a bright smile. "Now what were you saying about food?" the boy asked with an impish wink.

"Come on," she gestured to the door with a roll of her eyes. "Le's see if we can fill that teenager stomach."

The rest of the evening passed without a problem as mother and son enjoyed each others' company. Mrs. Erikson made a fine ramen when the situation called for fast food, and both slurped it down with their own chopsticks. She had managed to dig them out of the boxes which now littered about the lobby and kitchen.

"We'll have to focus on unpacking our things pretty quick," she recommended as her eyes moved over the numerous labeled containers. "I really want to get this place ship shape for our guests."

"Guests?" Jack asked, and he looked up from his bowl.

"Oh, just some gentlemen I've invited to come down and look at the inn," she replied. She brushed off his concern with a wave of her hand and an eager smile. "Investors who may want to help me get started advertising the place."

"When are they coming?" he inquired. He tilted his bowl back and slurped down the dredges.

"Never, if they hear about your manners," she teased with a frown. "But they're supposed to call tomorrow with a date."

"Tomorrow?" Jack repeated, and he nearly choked on his broth.

"Yes, is there something wrong?" his mom asked with a puzzled expression on her face. She raised a brow. "Are you expecting any calls?"

"Well, I'm not really sure. Kyle said he was going to get a hold of me later," he admitted.

"If he does call, you'll have to make it a short conversation," she informed him as she bit her lip, but her face quickly brightened. "Or you could invite him over for another visit so you could talk face-to-face."

"Another one? So soon?" her son groaned, and he slumped down on his stool. "I'm not sure my sanity can take it."

"Oh, don't be a sissy," she scolded with a laugh. "Besides," she added as she leaned close to him. "It's either that or help me unpack all these boxes," she warned, and her arm swept over the cardboard containers piled high in the corner of the kitchen. They were stacked nearly as tall as the refrigerator.

"Well, no pain no gain, right?" Jack stated as he hopped to his feet and flexed his slim arms. "If this kid is gonna work me, the more the better."

"That's the spirit," his mom agreed with a laugh, and she gathered up the few dishes. "Now get some more sleep so you can unpack your things and be ready for Kyle's early morning call."

"Why do you think it'll be early?" her son asked.

"Remember this morning?" she dryly commented with a sigh.

"Oh, right," Jack sheepishly replied, and he wandered out of the kitchen.

He headed up the steps and around the corner, but he hesitated for a moment as he looked up at the hall lights. They shined brightly back at him, playing the innocent inanimate objects against his silent accusations. He grumbled as he walked down the corridor, his body tense as he half expected any moment to be swallowed in darkness again.

Thankfully the failure of the lights did not again hinder his visual necessity. He safely reached his bedroom door and stepped inside without a hitch. Once there Jack unpacked some of his clothes from the boxes and set them out to be worn the following day. He was also plainly reminded of his filthy fabrics when he smelled the mold coming from his pants. He threw the dirty clothes to a corner of the room and was finally able to take his much needed shower.

Both refreshed and still exhausted, Jack climbed into bed and pulled the covers over himself. The pattering of the rain outside lulled him to sleep as he dreamed of climbing trees and discovering new adventures with his friends.
Chapter 7

Ideas and Idioms

The following morning broke much as the night had begun, with rain.

Jack blinked against the weak light which permeated through the heavy curtains, than promptly buried himself beneath the sheets. He didn't have his alarm out from the boxes yet, but had a good guess that it was just about time to get up. His internal clock wasn't far off as he heard footsteps in the hall and a knock on his door soon after.

"Come on, Jack, time to wake up," his mom called from the other side. "I know you're awake, I could hear you groaning down the hall," she teased. She opened the door a crack and peaked in. "Now get up and eat your breakfast before Kyle calls." She smiled evilly. "You wouldn't want me to answer the phone, would you?"

Knowing his mother, the threat was enough for Jack to sigh and toss aside the covers. He sat up, threw his legs over the side, and turned to glare at his parent. His hair was tousled and his eyes were droopy, and the effect was more comical than threatening.

"That's a good boy," she applauded as she broadly smiled.

His mom quietly slipped into the room and set his now clean clothes on the end table. She must have snuck in earlier and retrieved them while he was still asleep. He couldn't understand why she hesitated a moment, but then he remembered that the strange comic books Kyle had given him were still sitting on the top.

"Kyle suggesting reading material for you?" she asked as she tried to repress a laugh.

"That obvious?" he replied, and he cast a glare at the window.

"The weirdness fits him," she complimented. "But I'll go finish breakfast while you get dressed." She cast one last glance at the comics before leaving.

Grumbling, Jack washed his hair and put on his clean set of clothes. As he was about to go down to breakfast his eyes fell upon those strange comics. He wandered over to the table and looked over the horror comics left by his guest. Gore was splashed on the front pages and blood dripped from the wounds of the monster's victims.

Jack reached up and touched his forehead where his wound had been. There wasn't even a bruise left of the incident, and the horrible amount of blood he'd lost had simply vanished from the room. It was enough to make him doubt whether he hadn't dreamed the whole thing up, and his mom had woken him up from a nightmare.

"Well, Jack, it's finally happened at your ripe old age," he softly joked to himself. "You've finally gone senile."

Jack sighed as he picked up the small, bound items and glanced around for a good hiding place. His eyes caught the top center drawer of the desk, and he absently stuffed them inside. He'd look at them later, maybe, but for now food waited.

Tramping down the stairs of the lobby, he couldn't help but notice the crackling fire in the large chimney. The soft glow was comforting and he would have gone over to bask in its warmth if his nose hadn't caught the scent of scrambled eggs and browned sausage. He heeded the call of the wild stomach and wafted into the kitchen to seat himself on what had become his usual stool. A plate was already waiting for him and he dove into the pile of delicious golden food. Finished, Jack put his plate and fork in the sink and was just passing through the door when he heard the phone at the front desk ring. He jerked back when his mom popped up from beneath the desk and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello, Hawthorn Inn," she greeted in her best operator's voice. "Oh, hi Kyle, how are you?" she asked, and she looked to her son. She motioned for him to come over. "Yes, he's right here, one sec." She covered the receiver and handed the mic over to Jack. "It's for you," she informed in a sickly sweet voice.

Jack grimaced at her tone but took the phone in his hand.

"Hey Kyle," he greeted.

"Hey Jack," came the voice on the other line in a chipper tone. Kyle's volume went into a whisper as Jackcould just imagine his friend looking around himself with suspicion. "Are we able to talk alone?" he asked.

"Actually, my mom was wondering if you'd like to come visit us again," Jack informed. He jerked the receiver away from his ear when the other line was filled with exclamations of joy. "I'll take that as a yes," he laughed.

"I'll be there as soon as I can find my bike!" Kyle yelled, and then Jack heard a click as the other end of the line hung up.

"I'm guessing he's on his way," his mom inferred as he put the receiver back on the phone.

"Said he had to find his bike, but he'd be up pretty soon," Jack confirmed.

"In this weather?" she asked, and she looked out the window to the heavy rain. "He's going to catch a bad cold," she scolded with a frown. "Maybe you should call him and tell him not to come," she advised her son. "I don't know where your grandfather has hidden the keys to the car, and he really shouldn't be biking out in this weather."

"Aren't those the keys?" Jack asked as he pointed behind his mother.

She turned to the key rack which were nailed on the wall, and sure enough there was a pair of black keys hanging on one of the hooks.

"My god, he actually left them out again," she whistled in surprise. "Well," she commented as she swiped the keys, "call Kyle and ask him where he lives so I can pick him up."

"Already on it," Jack countered. His hand held the receiver and he was fast dialing the number. They managed to catch Kyle before he'd left the house, and the new arrangement were made.

"Now you listen for the phone to ring, in case those investors call," his mom pleaded as she flung on her coat. "If they do call, ask them to leave a number or tell them to call back in about an hour, okay?" she requested as she opened one of the front doors.

"No prob," he comforted. He waved goodbye to his mom from the alcove of the front door as the rain pelted the vehicle. When the car had completely disappeared from view, he turned and stepped back inside.

The lobby was comfortably lit with the giant chandelier, but Jack still felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He listened to the soft creaks and groans of the old building against the rough weather. He jumped a little as the sound of far off thunder warned of a greater storm coming.

"Hurry up, mom," he pleaded. He slid on to one of the benches nestled under the tall windows looking out onto the parking lot.

It felt like a long wait as Jack pulled back the curtain and leaned his forehead against the cool window. The pattering of the rain outside was soothing to his frayed nerves and he sighed. For a moment his breath created a fog against the glass and his view was obstructed. Jack frowned as he pulled back and lifted his arm to wipe away the mist.

"Good thing mom hasn't started cleaning yet," he spoke aloud as he roughly cleaned off the smudged glass. "Or I'd be dead right now."

A gruff sound of agreement startled him and Jack's head swirled around to look into the lobby. His breath caught when he saw that his grandfather stood not more than a few feet from where he was seated. Jack shifted uncomfortably on the cushion as he tried not to move backward and lean too hard against the window. Jack didn't want his elder to notice his efforts to gain more space between them. Their relationship was awkward enough without his grandfather knowing he found his presence bordering on disgust.

"Hi, Grandpa," he greeted with an uneasy laugh. Maybe he could hide the feeling with a smile. "Up early again?"

"Your mother is gone?" his grandfather inquired. He stepped up to the window and moved aside the curtain.

There were now just two feet separating them. Jack couldn't help but feel that his relative was purposefully moving closer to get them better acquainted, when the only action he wanted to take was backward.

"Yeah, she needed to use the car to get my friend," he explained as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There was no outlet to stretch his cramped legs, and he would fall from his seat if he wanted to gain more distance. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked. He wasn't sure if the keys had been left on the rack on purpose or accident, but he decided the best course would be to apologize first and ask questions later.

"Not at all," was the brief reply. His grandfather turned his head to look down at his grandson. "The absence will give us a chance to discuss certain matters."

"Certain matters?" Jack squeaked, and he swallowed hard. He didn't like the tone his elder was using, and he knew he was going to talk about him and his friends going into the woods. "Like what?" he asked as he tried to fake innocence. The strategy failed miserably.

"Yesterday you disobeyed my command," Pyre stated rather than asked. His grandson meekly nodded his head as he leaned toward him. Jack could see his reflection in his glasses.

"We just went to the cemetery," was his weak reply . Jack prayed for his mother to come back. He suddenly realized how much taller his grandfather was than him, and he already knew he had an iron grip. He wasn't sure if his grandfather was the physical type when it came to punishment, but he was taking no chances, and prepared himself for any blows. "But we didn't hurt anything," he swore. "We only looked at a few of the graves and left, that's it."

Jack could only imagine how his eyes were flashing with anger behind those dark glasses. The older gentleman was evidently not used to dealing with direct confrontation with other people, and the young man had little experience in being the offending party. But then, Jack wasn't sure how much right his grandfather had to feel angry over his broken promise. After all, he'd never been a part of his life until a few days prior, and his mom was evidently not liking the setup. Maybe he didn't even have any ability to tell him what to do or where to go.

That thought emboldened him, but not enough for a direct confrontation.

Suddenly his grandfather bent over and clutched at his chest. He stumbled over to the fire mantle and clutched onto the stone. His breathing came out in harsh gasps between clenched teeth. Jack could see his shoulders tremble beneath the coat.

"You...you okay?" Jack asked in concern. He cautiously stepped toward him. It looked like he was having some sort of attack. "You want me to call an ambulance or something?"

"I am...I am fine," his grandfather insisted. His labored breathing evened out and his hand limply dropped to his side. The other remained on the mantle as he straightened himself. "There is no need to disturb your mother with my affairs."

"Well, what the hell was that?" Jack questioned. It scared him enough that he didn't want to see that again. "Some kind of attack?"

"In a way," his relation answered.

"Does mom know about these? Is there something we're supposed to do when it happens?" his grandson persisted.

"She does not know, and I do not intent for her to find out," his grandfather pointedly remarked. "There are some things best left for her not to know."

"That looked pretty bad," Jack countered. "You sure you don't need a doctor or something?"

"Nothing so severe, I assure you," his relation argued. "Mention of your mother, however, is what I wish to speak about."

"What about her?" Jack suspiciously inquired.

"What has your mother told you about me?"

The question and change in topic were sudden for Jack, and it took him a little while to wrack his brain for a reply.

"Nothing really," he finally admitted with an apathetic shrug. She had practically ignored her dad's existence for his entire life. "She told me you liked to travel and didn't care much about family." He was expecting some sort of reaction from his grandfather for that remark, but no response. Not even a raised eyebrow. He wasn't sure if indifference was better than a lack of emotion. "You kinda surprised her when you called to come with us up here."

"I see," his grandfather blandly replied. "Was there nothing else?"

"That's pretty much it," Jack informed. He didn't think he was giving his relation the answer he wanted, but that's all he had. "Sorry," he apologized with a shrug. Jack didn't really have anything else to tell him.

His grandfather silently turned his face toward the window and frowned. Jack's eyes followed his gaze out the window, but he saw nothing except leaves and the pouring rain. Perhaps his grandfather had better hearing than he did and was listening to some far off noise. Hopefully it was the car bringing his mother back.

Without another word his relation stepped away from the cushioned bench and moved toward the staircases.

"Hey, wait!" Jack called as he held out his arm in protest. He was surprised when his grandfather actually stopped and turned his head to the side. He needed to dispel the doubts he had about yesterday's incident. "Did you help me out yesterday?" Jack asked him. "You know, when I hit my head?"

There was a long pause and Jack wondered why such a simple question would need a delayed answer. A simple yes or no would have given him the truth he sought.

"Helped you?" was the reply as his grandfather smirked. "In what way?"

"When I fell on the floor," Jack insisted. He wanted verification.

"Perhaps you were merely dreaming," his grandfather suggested and he turned away. He walked up the stairs and out of sight.

"That helped," Jack rolled his eyes, and he leaned back against the window frame.

He looked out the glass at the intrusion of noise and saw the elegant black car come up the drive. The car stopped near the entrance, and Kyle and his mom jumped out. Jack noticed Kyle sling a bag over his shoulder as they ran for the door against the ceaseless rain. He grimaced when one of the doors was thrown wide open. His friend's wet shoes slid on the wood floor and his feet flew out from under him as he ended up slamming the back of his body into the front desk.

"Kyle!" Jack yelled as he rushed and knelt at his friend's side. His mom wasn't far behind. "You okay?" he asked as he looked him over for injuries.

"Don't worry, go on without me," Kyle muttered as he twitched and groaned. "That wasn't such a smart move," he admitted, and he opened his eyes.

"Good grief," Mrs. Erikson laughed as she watched Jack help Kyle to his feet. "I'm not sure I should leave you two alone. Chaos seems to erupt whenever you two meet."

"I think your mom just called us active volcanoes," Kyle joked, and he took off his coat. "I'd resent it, Mrs. Erikson, but the comparison is just too cool."

"Well, I'm glad to see the bump hasn't harmed you mentally," she commented, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"I hit head first," he informed, and he lightly knocked a knuckle against his temple. "Hardest part of my body."

"Well, that's a relief," Jack heard his mother snicker under her breath as she took off her own coat. She took both their coats and hung them on the hangers to dry. "Well, now that the fun is over, how about you two boys go off and do what boys at your age do. I need to get some chores started or this place will never be clean."

"Let's go to your bedroom," Kyle suggested as he gave a wink to Jack. "I'm pretty sure we can figure out what to do in there."

Jack inwardly groaned, but he followed as the younger boy led them to his room. He rolled his eyes when the door was shut behind them and Kyle turned on his heals to face his host.

"Okay, what was with the scary dude from yesterday?" he demanded to know, and he narrowed his eyes. "He's not really your grandpa, is he?"

"Actually, he is," Jack admitted. He crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. They did have some physical resemblances, after all, especially with the hair. "He's my mom's dad, so that makes him my grandfather."

"So what you're trying to tell me is your grandpa's a ghoul?" Kyle incredulously asked.

"A what?" Jack exclaimed as his mouth dropped open. This was just too much. "He's my grandfather, that's it," he argued. "He's just a little creepy."

"How long have you known him?" his friend countered, and he deposited his bag on the bed.

"It's not about knowing him," Jack pointed out. "You just accused someone of being a dead thing."

"Ghoul," Kyle corrected.

"Well, those don't exist," Jack countered. "So my grandpa can't be one. And what the hell is that, anyway?"

"It's an undead creature who wanders around scaring people, and even killing them," Kyle explained to his friend. "And how long have you known him, anyway?"

"A few days," he admitted with a shrug. "But that still doesn't make him one of those things."

"Then how did he disappear too fast when I saw him in your room yesterday?" his friend questioned. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in. "Well?"

"What?" Jack had to recall what he was talking about, and then recalled his friend's story about the eerie figure in the corner of the room. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you think my grandfather is a ghoul because he scared you yesterday?"

"He didn't just scare me, he disappeared right in front of me!" Kyle argued with a frown. "He was there one minute, then gone the next."

"People can disappear in shorter time than a minute," Jack teased. He tried hard not to laugh when Kyle pouted.

"He disappeared in one second," he reiterated. "He was there, I blinked, he's gone."

"Well, maybe you blinked slowly?" Jack suggested. "Or maybe what you saw was just some shadows that looked like him."

"I know what I saw," Kyle affirmed, and he stood to his feet. "And to prove it, how about we go see your grandpa?"

"Not a good idea," Jack informed him, and he blocked the exit. This kid's imagination had gone into overdrive, and the last thing he needed to find out was his grandfather's weird sleeping habits. "He's not the friendliest person to talk to."

"Then I'll go talk to him," he offered as he tried to step around him. "Can't be too hard to find his room."

"Actually, I have no idea where his room is."

"What do you mean you don't know where his room is?" Kyle questioned. "Where'd his luggage go?"

"I never saw any luggage, either," Jack sheepishly admitted. This was looking bad for him. "But we really shouldn't...be..." Jack trailed off. He noticed his friend was looking past him with the strangest expression on his face. Kyle looked like he couldn't decide whether to fight or flee, and Jack slowly turned around. He gulped loudly as he looked up into his grandfather's face. "Still up, grandpa?" he nervously asked.

"Yes," was the blunt reply.

"Did you need something?" he inquired. He wanted to get to the point so his grandfather would leave. His presence was stifling beyond what he thought he could handle, and he didn't think Kyle was faring any better. He had to think fast. "Because Kyle and I were just about to go for a walk outside."

"Out in the rain?" his grandfather questioned, and the rain pattered against the window.

"We were hoping it was gonna stop soon," Kyle chimed. Bless his ingenious soul, Jack thought. "Or maybe we could find an umbrella to use. Do you have one, Mr. Pyre?" he inquired.

"No," he replied.

Jack had ceased breathing when he had found his grandfather had enter the room. Now, however, his heart stopped as the gentleman performed one last pass over their faces and turned to leave without comment. He left as silently as he had come, but with a little more notice. He hadn't even heard the door open behind him. Kyle turned to his host.

"You were saying?" Kyle asked as he walked around him to the door.

"He's definitely creepy," Jack agreed. He watched his friend slowly open the door. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," the other replied, and she quickly stuck his head out into the hall. "Yep, exactly what I expected."

"And what did you expect?" his host inquired. He came up to stand beside his friend.

"Nothing," Kyle replied, and he pushed the door wide open.

Jack stuck his head out and realized that the corridor was indeed empty, but he wouldn't make much of the matter. There had to be a plausible explanation to counter his friend's insane theories.

"Maybe he went into his room," Jack suggested. He grabbed the frame of the door and shut the portal.

Kyle rolled his eyes and Jack sighed. The day was just getting longer.

Chapter 8

Distractions

The rain outside pattered against the window of the suite as Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. Jack inwardly groaned and looked around for a distraction. He noticed the backpack on his bed.

"What's in there?" he pointed at the object.

"Homework. Well, kinda," Kyle curtly replied. "So you're not gonna believe me?"

"Homework already, hunh?" he asked as he conveniently ignore his friend's question.

"It is the middle of September," he pointed out.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a moment, and then Kyle scowled at him.

"You think the rain's gonna stop soon?" Jack wondered as he tried to break the ice.

"If you're not gonna believe me, at least answer this," Kyle pleaded with a nod toward the door. "I was facing the door the entire time, and I didn't see him come in. How can you explain that?"

"I was kinda blocking the door," Jack pointed out. He was being too defensive, he had to try the offensive route. "Do you have a grandparent?" he asked his companion.

"A grandma," Kyle replied as he frowned. "Why?"

"Well, what if I told you she was actually a ghost?" he explained. "What would you say to that?"

"I'd say you were right," his friend answered with a solemn nod. "She's been haunting me to find a girlfriend for years."

Jack's barking laugh came out so quickly it caused him to cough. There went that plan for swaying Kyle's thoughts away from his crazy ideas. Only one more course of action was available.

"Okay, bad example," he conceded, and his shoulders slumped. "Can we just agree to disagree on this topic? I'm too stubborn and you're too insane to change."

"I prefer the term eccentric."

"Are you rich?"

"No."

"Then you're insane," Jack affirmed . He wandered over to the backpack. "You can't be poor and be eccentric."

"I'm still working on the rich part," Kyle defended as he followed his friend. "But speaking of working on things, I was gonna enlist your help with that homework. Well, project, I guess."

"What's it even about?" his host inquired.

"This place, actually," Kyle explained to him. He unzipped the bag and pulled out some library books and a notepad. "Well, the inn and the town. They're pretty much one and the same."

"Why's that?" Jack asked as his companion flipped through the large notepad.

"Because they were built at the same time," he pointed out. He tossed one of the books at Jack, who clumsily juggled it before taking a firm grasp of the binding. "Well, that east wing of the inn, at least. The rest of the stuff is only about a hundred and fifty years old."

"And how old is the town and the original part of the inn?" Jack pressed. He looked at the book's cover. A History of Colonial Communities.

"It's gonna be two hundred and fifty at the beginning of October," Kyle explained. He pulled out a pencil from a pouch of his bag and he tapped the eraser against his lips as he frowned. "I wonder if Amanda would get credit for helping me," he mused.

"How'd you get roped into doing this?" Jack asked him.

"It's for my project in history class," he groaned. "The teacher thought since I knew so much about the stories of the town this would be a cinch for me."

"Won't it be?" his host encouraged. "I mean, you seem to know a lot of stories."

"Because there's not much info on the first few years," Kyle replied with a shrug. "We know some guy named William Peer founded it and built the inn and we know when, but it gets kinda fuzzy after that." He paused and rubbed his chin. "It's kind of fuzzy that first year, too. Kinda like this place popped up out of nowhere."

"And how do I fit into this?" Jack inquired with a frown.

"Research assistant," his companioned explained with a wide, pleading grin. "These books are drier than a mummy, so I was hoping you could help me."

"Shouldn't you be doing this project yourself?" he questioned, but he began to flip through the book in his hand.

"My teacher Mr. Fuller said I could get a partner or two to help," Kyle defended. "I figured if you didn't have anything else to do, you could help."

"I'm not sure I'm this bored," Jack argued as a picture suddenly caught his eye. He stopped the pages and flipped back to gaze at a landscape portrait of several buildings situated below a large hill made of solid granite. "What's this of?" he questioned, and his friend looked over the page.

"Looks like when the town was founded," Kyle explained to him. "Probably from some old wood carving of the place."

"But where is this rocky hill?" he inquired. "It's gone now, isn't it?"

"Actually, we're standing on it," Kyle revealed, and he tapped a foot on the floor. "This whole place was built on a hill made from a bunch of those rocks kinda flattened together," he explained. "The rock's all granite, so it works great for a foundation.

"You don't sound like you need my help," Jack pointed out, and he shut the book.

"Maybe you could write it up for me?" Kyle insisted as he clasped his hands together. The notepad paper crinkled between his fingers. "Come on, Jack, help a guy with this boring stuff. You'll at least keep me from going completely mad."

"As opposed to the half insanity you're usually in?" his friend joked.

"Well, yeah," his impishly grinned. "But take this paper," he instructed, and he tore out a crinkled page, "and use it to bookmark any cool pictures or interesting pages."

"Wasn't there any other project you could've chosen?" Jack inquired as he sighed and took the paper.

"If I would've, I wouldn't be standing here now," Kyle muttered.

"Where would you have been?" his companion questioned.

"Six feet under," he tried to joke, but his frown stole the mood away. "My grandma would've killed me for 'passing up this opportunity,' as she calls it," he mimicked in a high pitched voice.

"Why?" Jack asked as he sat down on the bed. He began flipping through more pages. "It's not like this is that big of a deal. It's just a school project."

"She thinks it is, so my parents think it is. Well, my mom, at least. She's her mom," he grumbled, and he joined Jack atop the covers.

"She must be pretty interested in Sanctuary's history," Jack complimented. There seemed to be some bad blood in his family, and he wasn't sure what else to say. "Maybe this'll make her happy?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll meet her pretty soon to tell for yourself if she could ever be happy," Kyle darkly mused. He tapped the notepad with the end of his pencil. He slipped off his shoes and swung his legs onto the bed. "She generally likes to stick her head into other people's business."

"Well, in the meantime we may as well tackle this project," Jack encouraged, and he began tearing up his piece of paper. "It's not gonna research itself."

The boys got to work browsing through the dusty old books and jotting down notes. They discussed which pictures to use, and how to cite their information. Kyle asked about which paragraphs to lift until Jack pointed out the teacher would use the internet to dissect his work. After an hour's worth of good work, Kyle groaned and plopped the book he was reading onto his lap. His tongue comically hung out as he looked to Jack.

"This is so boring," Kyle whined. The pencil lazily slipped from his hand and onto the bed. "Are there any other places we can explore to get us away from these books?" he pleaded

"Not that I can think of" Jack admitted while he shrugged. He wasn't really tired of reading about the local fissures, but he knew Kyle wouldn't let him study in peace until his friend's energy was spent. "Unless my mom's managed to get into the east wing, which I doubt it."

"To tell you the truth, I'm kinda disappointed," Kyle mused in a longing voice. "I was really hoping with the inn being open and all, something cool would happen," he admitted, and he leaned back against the pillows. "I mean, my grandma talks all the time about how great a place this used to be and how many parties used to go on here."

"I guess my mom and I are a bit of a disappointment," his host admitted as he lay down on the bed. He looked up at the still canopy of his bed and pondered his friend's wishes. "We're not really the partying type." He wondered if when his mom had chosen to buy the inn, she had really thought about all the socializing it would take to get it up and running. "And my grandfather is really not the sociable type."

"That's it!" Kyle yelled as he suddenly sat up. "That's what we need to have here!"

"What?" Jack asked while he looked to his friend. He was glad, though, that Kyle's enthusiasm had returned. "What do we need here?"

"A party!" the other boy explained. "We need to invite everyone from town and let them see the place. It'll be great advertising for your mom!"

"I guess you're right," he agreed, but he shrugged his shoulders. He wouldn't really look forward to any social gathering, much less one that large. "But when?"

"How about Halloween?" Kyle suggested with a mischievous grin spread across his face. "This place has plenty of creepiness to it, and we could put your grandpa outside to scare the kids."

"He'd be good at it, too," Jack chimed in with a laugh. Maybe his friend had something here, but there were a lot of catches. "But isn't that gonna get in the way of the town's anniversary?"

"Not this town," his friend commented with a laugh. "If there's one thing I'm proud of in this tiny boredom trap, it's that we know how to make a party when we have them." He leaned forward and slapped his companion on the back "Besides, that'll be a month off from the celebration, so we'll have plenty of time to get this place in shape."

"We?" his host inquired. "So you can get some people to help us?"

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"Science has yet to explain," Jack joked and Kyle widely grinned. "But if you can help my mom pull this off, it'd be a hell of a party."

"Then let's go ask her," Kyle suggested. He hopped off the bed and toward the door. His host nearly ran into him when he suddenly stopped with his hand on the knob. He turned around with a serious expression on his face. "But this doesn't get you out of figuring out what your grandfather is," he cautioned as he leaned toward Jack. "Because I still think there's something evil about him."

"And we'll leave it at that," Jack agreed. His friend opened the door and they stepped out into the corridor. "Though I do have to ask, has anyone ever examined you psychologically?"

"Not yet, but I think my mom's still saving up for the testing," Kyle countered as they strode down the hall. "Psych exams can be murder on the wallet."

The plotting pair reached the landing of the staircase and searched for their intended target. She was nowhere in sight, but noise from the kitchen alerted them to her whereabouts. Cautiously they traveled down the stairs and through the main area toward the closed door.

"Why are we sneaking again?" Jack asked as he followed Kyle. He wasn't sure this was such a good idea, his grandfather had been doing enough sneaking to last the rest of the year. "My mom's not really a big fan of being scared."

"We have to surprise her with our great idea," he was told as they reached the door.

"Our?" he repeated as he frowned. This sounded like shared blame if the plan failed. "Wait a minute, this was all your-"

"And what are you two trying to do?" a voice behind them asked.

The pair jumped and turned in mid air to find Mrs. Erikson standing with a spoon in her hand and her foot tapping against the floor. One eyebrow was raised and her lips were turned down in a frown.

"N-nothing, mom," Jack defended as he gave a nervous laugh. Kyle's mouth had dropped open as he stupidly pointed to the kitchen where they thought she had been, and then back to where she now stood. "We were just getting a little hungry, that's all." This plan was falling apart even before they'd proposed it, but his friend rallied himself.

"You know that's not what we were trying to do," Kyle protested. "We wanted to tell her our great idea."

"Idea?" she repeated as she looked between the two boys. "Idea for what? More trouble?"

"Actually, Mrs. Erikson, we wanted to liven this place up a bit," their guest explained. "So we came up with this great idea to have a party and invite everyone around."

"A party? Here?" she asked with some doubt. "Sounds temping, but who would we get to help put this on?"

"Oh, that would be easy," Kyle dismissed with a wave of his hand. "We'd just get everyone together who can help and use them."

Jack frowned at the preposterously easy proposal. His friend made it sound like they were planning a picnic and only needed to assign each platter to the attendants. He evidently had no idea how difficult it would be to plan and execute a full party in a lavish setting with food and drink for all ages. His mom, however, saw potential.

"I'm interested," she admitted with a slow nod of her head. "And I think I might have some ideas of my own."

"Really?" Kyle squeaked out. He couldn't believe someone was actually listening to him. "You mean it?"

"Why not?" she asked, and she swept her eyes over the lobby. "I mean, it'll take some work to get this place clean and ready, but it sounds like fun. And besides," she added as she looked to the boys. "I want everyone to be involved in getting this place back to its glory days." She paused and tapped her chin. "But what's a good day to have it? Around harvest or Halloween?"

"Definitely Halloween," Kyle piped up. "We're having the Town Founding celebration a week from this Saturday."

"Really?"she inquired. "How old is the town now?"

"Two hundred and fifty," he informed her. "And I guess we'd better get back to that project, Jack."

"What proj-" Mrs. Erikson began, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the telephone from the front desk. "Oh, the investors!" she yelped. She shoved the spoon into Jack's hands and ran toward the phone. For a moment she juggled the receiver with nervous hands before catching a firm grip on the handle and putting it to her ear. "Hello?" she introduced and Jack cringed when she forgot to mention the establishment's name. "Yes, this is the Hawthorn Inn, how can I help you? Oh, yes, we were expecting your call," she replied, and she gave the boys a wink. She pulled a scrap of paper out of the desk drawer and grabbed a pencil. "Is there a date your office was considering?"

There was a pause for a moment and Jack could imagine the secretary listing off a handful of available dates and arrival times. Mrs. Erikson scribbled them down and looked at the calendar she'd put on the wall behind her.

"Actually, that date would work perfectly for the Halloween party we're preparing for the opening," Mrs. Erikson informed as she gave the boys a wink. "What time can we expect them? That's fine, we'll have their rooms ready for when they arrive. Thank you, goodbye." She turned to her young audience. "Looks like we won't have to worry about them for a while," she informed them with almost a sigh of relief. "They can't come until mid October."

"Well, that'll give us plenty of time to fix up the place," Kyle commented, and he checked his watch. He suddenly jerked up at the grandfather clock in the lobby began to chime the hour of eleven. "Damn, these weekends sure do go by fast," he complained.

"But back to what I was asking, what's this about a project?" she continued as she took her spoon back from Jack.

"Kyle has to write a paper about the founding of the town," Jack explained. His friend made believe he was choking himself. "We kinda don't have much to work with."

"You know, I did see some old books in the sitting room," she commented, and she absently waved at the double doors leading into the area. "Maybe you'll find something in there."

"It's worth a try," her son agreed.

"Oh goody," Kyle sarcastically chimed in as he followed his host into the front room.

"Hey, this is your project," Jack pointed out.

"Don't remind me."

Jack had not yet been in this part of the inn, and he flipped the light switch to allow a small chandelier to light the area.

The room was large, about twenty feet square, with the same wood paneling found in the lobby. The tall windows were draped with light, frilly curtains and beneath the wall to their right was a large buffet table for simple snacks. Old horse-hair parlor furniture had been set out in a circle in the center of the room, and there were enough sofas and chairs to accommodate nearly twenty people. Empty end tables were scattered here and there to allow for drinks and plates, and to avoid spillage on the expensive Persian rugs beneath their feet.

The object of their attention, however, was on the row of bookcases which lined the wall separating the room from the kitchen. The shelving was well over eight feet tall and each shelf was filled to overflowing with ancient tomes and texts. Jack inwardly groaned. This would take awhile unless they chose to be very picky about the titles.

"This is what your mom calls 'some'?" Kyle asked as he waved his hand toward the bookcases lining the wall.

"She doesn't have as much fear of books as you do," Jack teased. He walked over and began perusing the worn titles. Most were so old the spines had deteriorated to nothing, or the letters were too faded to read. Others, a small minority, were still in pristine condition. He opened one of these dusty texts to look for a copyright date, and found nothing. "Besides, we might find something useful here. You did say the inn was as old as the town."

"Yeah, but not this part," his friend reminded him as he started looking at the far end of the bookcases.

"Well, they could've been moved," he defended as his finger traveled along each legible title. He was frustrated when several were so old or so thin that no words had been printed on their spines. "Any idea what we should be looking for?" he inquired.

"Anything mentioning Sanctuary," Kyle vaguely replied. Jack could hear the frustration in his voice. "Or maybe some general history of the area, that might help." There was some rustling and Jack looked over to see his friend trying to climb the shelves to get a better view of the books on the top. "Too damn short for this," Kyle muttered.

"Maybe there's a ladder around here," Jack suggested as his friend hopped down. "You're gonna kill yourself that way."

"Well, you look for a ladder and I'll keep climbing," he countered as he scowled at the top two shelves.

"How about you wait and don't kill yourself while I find it?" his host argued, and his eyes broached the room.

His gaze fell upon a few books which were on the end tables nearest them. He walked over to them with a quizzical expression on his face. He swore there hadn't been anything on this table when they first entered.

"What'd ya find?" Kyle called out behind him, and he peeked over Jack's shoulder. "Great, more books..." he muttered when he noticed the items.

"But these might help," Jack pointed out. He picked one up and looked over the cover title. A Call for Sanctuary: The Town's History from the Founding to the Present Day. "Take a look," he invited, and he handed the book over to Kyle.

His companion stared at the title for a moment before he opened the first pages to read a sample. The publication date showed the book had been published in the mid nineteen fifties by a gentleman named Scott Percival.

"I've heard of this guy," Kyle informed. He showed the name to Jack. "He was some big history nut around here a long time ago."

"So that means it'll work?" Jack asked.

"It's not bad," he conceded, and he glanced over to the other three books. "What else we got here?"

"More of the same," Jack informed as he ran his hands over the covers. "Here's one about the first settlers."

"And the other one?" Kyle inquired as he picked up the first two.

"Not sure," he admitted. He picked up the last worn book.

The tome was small, only about five inches by four inches, and had no title on the cover. The binding was shut by an ancient piece of string which had been neatly tied around a simple clasp on the front. He tried to carefully unwrap the string, but even his gentle fingers caused some tearing of the strands. He finally managed to get the cover open.

"Wow, what a mess," Kyle commented as their eyes fell upon a small but neat cursive handwriting. The words were placed close together and each pages was filled to the corners with text and, in some cases, drawings. He noticed when Jack suddenly stopped on one of those pictures and he let out a small gasp. "What? What is it?" he eagerly inquired. "Buried treasure?"

"This is an old layout of the inn," he explained, and his hand tapped the small diagram. There was only half the space and some of the walls had moved, but he recognized the placement of some key elements. "See, here's the chimney and the east wing," he pointed out.

"Jesus, this thing's old," Kyle whistled. "But I don't see any x for the spot." He didn't want to let go of his quick riches joke quite yet.

"I don't think the author of this book was a pirate," Jack commented as he looked at the front for any owner. The back of the cover was blank except for a year. "1760," he read aloud in an awed voice.

"Uh, should you really be holding that thing?" his friend pointed out. "I mean, it's definitely old enough to fall apart."

"Actually it's pretty sturdy," Jack explained as he tentatively tested the binding. The leather was a little stiff, but there were no cracks. "I'm surprised it lasted so long in here," he mused. He looked to the younger books which had not survived the years as well.

"Kinda looks like it's been pretty well taken care of," Kyle guessed, and he frowned. "But I'm not sure how this is gonna help us. We can't really read what's in it."

"It's not that hard," his host encouraged as he opened to a random page. The sections in the book were separated by different dates. The intervals stretched from days to sometimes a few weeks, but never longer than a fortnight. "Work moves slowly, but the men are not discouraged," he read from the page. "Though I fear the winter months will do much to slow our progress." He closed the book. "See, not that hard."

"But is it worth it?" his companion argued. "I mean, it's just some kinda of entry book or something, isn't it?"

"We won't know until we read through it," Jack countered.

"Good luck with that," Kyle replied as he patted his friend on the back. "Tell me how that works out after a couple hundred years of deciphering that handwriting."

"Fine, I'll keep this one, but if you want to take those other books with you I'm sure my mom will let you," he nodded toward the ones in Kyle's hands. "Just as long as you're careful with them."

"I'll treat them like the children I never had," Kyle whimsically voiced as he hugged the books to himself.

"You with kids is a terrifying thought," Jack teased as he glanced over at the shelves. "Do we need to keep looking or is that enough?"

"Enough," his partner quickly replied, and he glared at the top shelves. "I'm not getting killed for nothing."

The two boys evacuated the sitting room and found Jack's mom cleaning the kitchen cupboards. All their hard work in unpacking the food was for naught as the island was filled with food taken from the shelves. She was grumbling to herself as they entered, and some of the words were not for polite company.

"How's it going, mom?" Jack inquired before he was hit with a clean rag.

Perfect timing," she welcomed as she slid off the counter top. "You two can help me scrub the rest of these shelves."

"Well, I think it's time for me to leave," Kyle quickly announced as he stepped back.

"Leave and you can't take those books with you," Jack threatened.

"So you boys managed to find some useful stuff?" his mom inquired, and she looked at the tomes in their hands. "Anything really neat?"

"Might be something with this book," her son informed as he held up the book with the ancient text. "Looks like a journal or something." Jack and Kyle were surprised when her face paled beneath all that dirt when her eyes looked at the old book. "You okay, mom?" he asked as he stepped forward.

"I-I'm fine," she stuttered out as she wiped her dirty hand across her face, leaving a long, dirty smudge. "Just too much cleaning, I think." She smiled at the two boys. "Well, with the kitchen a mess, who's up for another drive into town for food?"

After depositing their finds in Jack's bedroom and waiting for his mother to shower, the group headed into town. The rain had stopped completely, but everything was still wet and dark clouds hung over the skies as they drove down the hill. The boys winced every time she ground the gears, but the drive was uneventful and they had a great meal at the best pizza joint in town, courtesy of Kyle's recommendation. Their conversation wandered through a myriad of subjects, but always came back to the Halloween party and the town's founding celebration.

"So who do I need to call first to see who wants to help?" Mrs. Erikson inquired when they got into the vehicle for the drive back to the inn.

"Oh, that's easy," Kyle commented, and he grabbed a pencil and paper from inside his coat pockets. He jotted down a few numbers and handed it to her. "That's the only info you'll need around here."

"What's this?" Mrs. Erikson asked him. She glanced at the name and number before looking back to the road. "Mrs. Gertrude Grover," she read aloud. "Who's she?"

"She's the contact to get everything going because she knows everybody," Kyle informed, though mother and son noticed that he rolled his eyes. "And their business," he muttered.

"Well, thanks a bunch for the number," Mrs. Erikson returned while they drove up the drive. She stopped the car at the entrance, but didn't shut off the engine as she looked at Kyle. "I do have to warn you, though, I'm going to need Jack for the rest of the day."

"For what?" her son questioned as his stomach sank.

"Cleaning," she bluntly replied, and she waved her hand at the inn. Even the outside needed swept of cobwebs. "So if you want me to drive you home now, I can do that."

"Nah, I'll go through the horrors with him," Kyle volunteered with a solemn nod. "I just regret that in this undertaking I have but one life to give for my country."

"Well, save it, this isn't going to kill you," she countered. She shut off the car and stepped out. The mother had a wicked smile on her face, though, and she suddenly rubbed her hands together. "But boy do I have plans for you two."

Four hours later, the boys' fears proved to be well supported. They were put to work sweeping rooms and stairs, moving furniture, removing rugs for beatings, and scrubbing the floors and walls. Unfortunately, in those long hours the trio didn't get more than the kitchen and most of the lobby done, but what they had touched shone out from the still-dirty rooms. Standing beside their buckets filled with grimy soap water, the group surveyed their achievements with not a little bit of pride.

"Well boys, I don't know about you but I'm done for the day," Mrs. Erikson announced as she sat down on the lobby bench.

"Ditto," Jack agreed with her, and he, too, plopped himself down beside her.

"I can't feel my fingers," Kyle complained as he looked down at his hands. They were a raw and pink from all the scrubbing he had done. Then his face perked up as a thought struck him. "Maybe I can't take notes so I don't have to go to school."

"That's lame, even for you," Jack pointed out while the clock chimed five. The sounds echoed through off the clean walls and straight into their weary ears.

"That clock sure is loud," their guest commented with a frown.

"Yes, but it is spot on the time," Mrs. Erikson countered as she groaned and stood back up. She winced when her back cracked. "Well, Kyle, you ready to go? I don't think you'll want to walk all the way home after that much cleaning."

"Not really," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Get your stuff and I can take you now," she offered as she picked up her bucket and his. "Jack and I can finish cleaning up down here."

"Uh, sure," Kyle agreed as he cast a glance at the upstairs hall. The fall evening was beginning to come upon them and Jack knew he was thinking about that shadow he'd seen yesterday. "Be right back," he promised. He shot up the stairs and disappeared around the corner. They listened in fascination while his feet pounded down the hall, faded away completely for a few moments, then reappeared with as much thumping as before. He took the stairs two at a time and skidded to a halt in front of them. He was doubled over and out of breath. "I...forgot...to...ask," he wheezed out as he held up the books. "Could I...take those books...home with me?" he pleaded.

"Just as long as they don't always have such a wild ride," Mrs. Erikson lightly scolded with a laugh.

"Heh, yeah, they won't," Kyle swore. He gently placed them in the large front pocket of his bag. "See, all safe," he assured her.

Then Emily and Kyle went off int he car. Jack fixed a simple fare of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then he tromped off to his bedroom to begin deciphering the rest of the old book. Left alone for the first time since the morning, Jack slipped off his shoes and jumped on his bed. He took the book off the nightstand and, after flipping on the lamp beside the bed, opened it to the first page. Then came the laborious task of going through every line trying to understand the small scrawl. He felt his eyes cross several times as he tried to work through faded letters, archaic words and the thin cursive hand.

Jack felt the hard work was hardly worth the effort. Each entry held references to people and places with which he wasn't familiar. The dates meant nothing except to help him understand the weather conditions of the seasons. The gist of the book, however, made him to understand that the individual was one of the early settlers in the area. The person made note of several geographical names which still existed, and once or twice he wondered if a 'rocky hill' mentioned wasn't the one the inn sat upon.

As he lay there with the side of his head on the pillows and the book sideways beside him, Jack felt supremely comfortable. The sun outside drifted down over the mountains as night crept into his room. He struggled against the sleep which made his eyelids heavy ad his breathing even, and after an hour's reading he drifted off into sleep.

Jack was jerked away by loud sounds coming from behind his head. Through half closed eyes he heard voices coming from his mother's bedroom. He wasn't surprised to hear his mom's voice in the other room, but he was interested when his grandfather replied.

"There are no strings attached," Jack heard the patriarch answer to some unknown question.

"So now after this many years of practically ignoring him, you want to get to know him better?" his mom's voice sarcastically inquired.

Jack sat up at attention when he realized the topic of their discussion was himself. He quietly leaned his ear against the wall to get better sound.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to pull," his mom chimed in and he could just imagine her pointing an accusing finger at his grandfather. "There's never been anything simple about your reasons, so why should I believe you'll start giving me straight answers now?"

"Believe what you wish," was the blunt, disinterested reply. "I am merely requesting what is my right."

"Your right?" she bitterly repeated. "You think you have a right to barge in and ask, no, demand, to have time with my son?" Jack cringed at her harsh tone and there was a pause. "There's something you're not telling me."

"I have told you all that needs to be said," his grandfather answered.

"Maybe that was good enough when I was younger, but not anymore," his mom exasperatedly countered. "And especially not with the ridiculous demand you're making. Why should I even let you around him unsupervised?"

Jack blinked in surprise, and then he shook his head. The idea of his grandfather interacting with him in any form was, as his mom had said, ridiculous. The thought even frightened him a little. His grandfather's eerie companionship wasn't exactly who he sought. Jack placed his ear back against the wall and held his breath, waiting for a reply. The seconds stretched into the dozens and he heard the sound of his mom growling in frustration.

"Why do I even bother trying to talk to you?" she nearly yelled to herself. Jack heard her fist slam against something hard. "You're just too stubborn to listen to what anyone tries to tell you."

"One moment," was the sharp reply which cut through his mother's words.

There was another pause and Jack held his breath. He could imagine his mom looking around the room and finding nothing. He heard her growl.

"Are you trying to scare me or something?" she accused. She was probably right in his grandfather's face challenging him. "I had enough of your strangeness when I was growing up, I won't have you ruin Jack's life like you tried to ruin mine. Mom wanted us to have a normal life, and I'm going to try to have one here."

"You tempt fate by staying here," he ominously warned. "You and Jack are not safe at the inn."

"Well, that's our choice, and I won't agree to leave this place for all the money you own," she coldly refused. "And knock it off with that...that thing I saw in my closet, and don't pretend that wasn't you trying to scare me."

"I pretend nothing," he calmly disagreed.

"No, but you lie enough about it," she shot back. She was disgusted with him. "Now get out of here."

He listened for the door to her bedroom to open and slam shut, but nothing. There was only the sound of his mother moving around preparing for bed, and she angrily muttered to herself. He quietly pushed off the wall and frowned as he contemplated their discussion. His grandfather had proposed talking with him about something, and his mother had refused. She had even gone as far as accusing him of having ulterior motives other than wanting to get to know him.

He was glad she had refused, though, and the thought gave him some comfort. He would not have to deal with his grandfather alone more than was necessary. Kyle was certainly right when he mentioned that there was something not quite right about his elderly relation. Jack couldn't help but lock the door to his room before he prepared himself for bed. After listening to that argument his thoughts were unsettled and he slipped beneath the covers with an uneasy piece of mind. He glanced at the alarm clock he'd managed to dig out of the boxes, reading the time as just past nine.

He didn't get to sleep too quickly while his thoughts refused to shut up, and instead they produced memories from the day's events. He was grateful, then, when he began to drift back into the waiting arms of slumber. Before he completely succumbed, however, the clock in the lobby chimed the midnight hour. Then he slept.

Chapter 9

Research and Development

Jack's rude awakening from his sleep came in the form of a loud knock on his door.

"Jack?" he heard his mom call. He grumbled and wrapped the sheets tighter around himself. He didn't want to get up just yet. "Jack, can you hear me?" she asked and he heard the knob clatter. "Jack, open the door right now!" she commanded.

"One sec," he managed to reply. He rolled out of the bed, taking the covers with him as they wrapped around his shoulders and dragged on the floor.

He wondered why his mom didn't just open the damn thing as he stumbled toward the door. He mentally slapped himself when he recalled he'd locked the door last night before going to bed. With a little more energy Jack unbolted the knob and peeked open the door. He gave his furious mother a weak smile.

"Hi, mom," he greeted. He blinked against the light from the corridor, and winced at her deep frown. "Something the matter?" he asked as he opened the door wider.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she questioned, and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Um," Jack stuttered. He glanced over at the clock. The time read ten. "Seven?" he guessed.

"That isn't going to work with me," she scolded. Her foot tapped on the floor. "Are you sick or something?" she asked, and she felt his cool forehead. She paused, then leaned toward him and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you on something?" she questioned in her most solemn tone. "I'm your mother, you can tell me."

Jack's mouth dropped open as one side of his lips turned up in a half smile. He slowly shook his head and his mother let out a great laugh.

"Oh, Jack, you're too easy," she teased, and she ruffled his already wild mane. "But seriously, what's the story? I was going to let you sleep in until you woke up, but that plan kind of backfired here."

"Didn't sleep well," he explained as he tried to rub the gunk out of his eyes.

"Oh?" his mom inquired, her attention captured by his statement.

"Just too much excitement yesterday," he replied. He didn't want to admit that he'd overheard her conversation with his grandfather.

"Well, if you are getting sick, I guess I'll just have to stick you back in that bed," she threatened. She raised her hands mischievously and stepped toward him.

"Oh, come on, mom," he rolled his eyes, but he took a step back. He nearly tripped over his robe of sheets "I'm too old for that."

"Well, if you want to be that way," she huffed in false indignation, and she lifted her chin in a pout. "I suppose if you're feeling just fine, you can help me with the cleaning chores," she threatened.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm dying."

"Nice try," she complimented. She reached out and grabbed the sheets from his shoulders. "You can die when I tell you to, and not a moment sooner."

"A guy can try," Jack defended himself.

"Well, if you don't want to help me with the cleaning stuff, you can start on unpacking your things," she pointed out as she nodded at the boxes. "Or maybe start some homework before you get behind."

"I guess," Jack agreed, and he gave a resigned shrug. "But could I get some food first?" he pleaded.

"There's some cereal in the cupboards," she briskly informed as she threw the sheets back on the bed.

"No bacon?" he asked, and he received a scowl for his question. "Yum, cereal! Oh boy!" he corrected as he gave her a wide, defensive smile.

"Oh, and Kyle mentioned something about coming here after school," his mom informed while she stepped back to the door. "Just a fair warning," she teased with a flash of a grin.

"Thanks," Jack groaned, and she shut the door behind herself.

Jack dressed, ate his disheartening breakfast, and went to work on the boxes piled in his room. Fortunately his mom had marked well the containers and he was soon stacking clothes into the armoire and stuffing socks into the drawers. He found his text books and study notes, and piled them on his new desk.

With everything arranged as he needed Jack began his studying, and the day passed pleasantly enough. He was only distracted by the sun streaming through the curtains, showing the clouds had disappeared, and his appetite for lunch. His mom was busy cleaning the front room and he saw little of her, but both were satisfied with their work when the clock chimed two.

Jack was reading one of his history books when his mother entered with a duster in hand.

"How you doing, hermit?" she teased as she began working the room over with the duster.

"Well, my brain shut down about an hour ago and I've just been reading the same page for the last twenty minutes," he replied. He sat back in his chair with his tongue rolling out.

"Well, at least you stopped thinking at an interesting page," she teased as she pointed at the page. It showed the picture of an atlas for the ancient world, and there was no text. "Learning to read geography can be pretty tricky."

"Hardy-har-har," Jack returned as he straightened his posture. "So Kyle isn't here yet?" he inquired.

"Not yet, but I'm expecting him any minute," she informed as she looked at her wristwatch. "If he's not biking, I'm sure he's badgering his mom to break a few speed limits getting here," she joked. Her smile softened as she looked at his pale complexion. "You sure you're feeling okay?" she asked.

"Not really," Jack finally admitted with a shake of his head. His eyes were more tired than he cared to discuss. "But I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow," he encouraged as he closed his book. "Maybe I just need some fresh air."

"I never thought I'd say this, but put down the books and go wandering around the yard," she suggested. She looked like she was fighting against all her tyrannical motherly instincts. "The fresh air might do you good."

"Not a bad idea," he agreed as he stood and stretched. His back popped and he winced.

"Getting old?" his mother teased as she finished up the dusting.

"Hard chair," he explained, and he followed her out the door.

They were just reaching the bottom of the stairs when there was a loud knock on the front entrance. Before either of them could take more than a few steps, the door popped open and Kyle stuck his head inside.

"Am I intruding?" he joked with a grin.

"Always," Mrs. Erikson teased in return. "But I'll leave you two boys alone," she offered.

She steered her steps through the door to the right of the staircase and against the far wall. Jack could hear a washing machine going and figured he'd just found out where the laundromat for the inn was located. He remembered there was some sort of buried furnace in there, and his mom had already warned him not to touch it. The thing was so old the mere sight of anyone other than the owner around it could cause it to blow.

"You find anything good in that old book?" Kyle asked as he dropped his backpack on the bench.

"Not really," Jack admitted with a shrug. He hardly remembered what any of it had said. "Mostly just day to day stuff about where to get food and water."

"Well, I hit pay dirt with those other three," he announced, and he dragged out his notepad. There were now several pages filled with notes. "You able to go to the library with me? There's some old books there we can look at that can't leave there."

"Wait, lemme get this straight," Jack interrupted. "You biked up here, away from the library, so you could bike back with me to the library?"

"My mom's always complaining about my energy, so she kinda tells me to bike a lot," he sheepishly admitted. Jack had to admit he didn't look a bit tired from the ride. "But you able to go? I need my research assistant for this, well, research assignment."

"I think your mom would suggest anything if it would tire you out," he joked as he grabbed his coat.

"Don't give her any more ideas," Kyle pleaded.

"Well, I don't think my mom would mind. I just gotta tell her where I'll be," he added as he moved over to the door he'd seen her enter. He popped his head in and viewed a long, narrow room with one side lined with washers and driers. "Hey mom, Kyle and I are gonna be at the library for a while," he announced over the machine.

"Just as long as you're back before night," she agreed, and he nodded before he closed the door.

"Well, that problem's solved," he announced to his waiting friend. "Now the next one. How far is it to the library?" he inquired. "I mean, if I've gotta walk a couple of miles," he hinted.

"Glad you asked," Kyle announced. He stepped up to the entrance and simultaneously opened both doors. Outside on the gravel driveway sat two bikes roughly the same size. "I managed to drag a bike up here for you."

"You never cease to amaze me," Jack replied after a few moments of stunned silence. Kyle had actually navigated two bikes up the long driveway. Jack wasn't sure if he should be impressed or fearful at his friend's stubbornness. "Where'd you get the other bike, anyway?"

"Oh, just an old one from my brother," he explained. He stepped out and tapped the bicycle seat. "It'll get you to where we want to go, and he said you can have it if you want."

"Really?" Jack had to ask as he inspected the bike. He was a little disappointed when everything about it bespoke a tough life. The chain was old, the seat slightly torn, and the brakes didn't look like they worked. He glanced over at Kyle's bike and noticed the condition was more pristine. "Kyle?" he questioned.

"Yeah?"

"Did you switch bikes on me?"

"What makes you think that?" Kyle nervously asked as he looked away.

"Oh, just the fact that this one reminds me of you," Jack pointed out. "Especially down to your name cut into the top tube," he guessed as he tapped that part of the bike.

"Fine, we can switch," Kyle agreed. His shoulders slumped and he slung his bag over his shoulders.

"Great, lemme get my coat and we can go," Jack added as he ran back inside for a quick moment.

The two friends biked down the gravel road and wound their way through the busy town. With school out the roads were clogged with older kids driving to home and work . The sidewalks were littered with groups of friends chatting about their day. Parents wound through the throngs of jaywalkers and loiters as they took their kids to their homes far outside the city limits. Their travels took them on a side road off Main Street and onto the same road as Mr. Merchan's realty. Trees lined the leaf-covered sidewalks as people passed by or chatted amongst friends in shop doorways.

The library was a two-story brick building separated from the road by its small parking lot. The high windows looked out onto the town with a comforting, although somewhat intimidating, glance and a steady stream of people mingled in and out of its wooden double doors. The rest of the area around the building consisted of a large park filled with great, old cypress and walnut trees. Far off in the distance a sports team practiced their drills.

"Not bad," Jack complimented as Kyle locked up both their bikes.

"Yeah, it's a pretty nice library, if you like books," his friend agree, and they walked up the steps to the entrance. Windows above the ground showed a basement existed beneath the structure. "I heard the basement is haunted, though," he whispered as they stepped up to the doors. "And the guy who works here is a real jerk."

Jack in the lead yanked on one of the door handles just as someone from inside was pushing, and he nearly tumbled back into Kyle.

"Sorry," a girl with chestnut hair apologized to him as she stepped out.

Her brown eyes flashed with spirit as she sidestepped them and flashed a bright, lively smile which caught Jack off guard. He caught himself blushing as she hopped down the steps and strolled off down the sidewalk with a few books in hand.

"Girls," Kyle rolled his eyes, and he dragged his friend inside.

Jack was going to comment about his relationship with Amanda, but he was too distracted by the view before him. The wood floor shown beneath their feet as row upon row of bookcases stretched out against every wall and open space. Long, wide tables finished off the area before the large, oak front desk. A short row of computers occupied a small wall at the far end past the tables, while a large room had been walled off in the corner behind the front desk. The most impressive part, however, was the second story balcony. Reached by two circular metal staircases, the bookcases covered the walls nearly to the ceiling and were only interrupted by the tall windows.

A stern young man behind the desk watched as Kyle led Jack to the front.

"We're needing into the archives," he announced, and he handed over a slip of paper.

The assistant librarian, at least according to his name tag, read the note and handed it back to him. He opened a drawer and dug around for a bit before he produced an old key, which he grudgingly gave to Kyle.

"We allow you two hours for research," he instructed. Jack had the impression he would have rather allowed them no time, and closed the archives to everyone. "There are some older books which have to be handled with gloves located in the table drawer. Any sort of loud noises and you're out, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Kyle comically saluted as he led his friend to the walled off room. He unlocked the windowed door, flicked on the switch, and hesitated for a moment as he stuck his head inside.

"The clock's ticking," the librarian noted.

"Fine, fine," Kyle muttered back. He allowed Jack inside first before he regretfully shut the door behind himself. Jack noticed his eyes flickered over the small room, and he let out a deep breath. "What a jerk," he let off some steam as he stuffed the key in his pocket. "Acts like the library is his."

"Maybe he just doesn't want people messing around in here," Jack pointed out as he looked at the walls lined with shelves. The room felt cramped from the lack of windows, besides the foggy one on the door. A large, ancient desk sat in the middle with four chairs gathered around the corners.

"He always does that to me, though," Kyle argued as he set his bag on the desk. He stuck to the center of the tiny area as he fumbled with the backpack's zipper. "I've been here tons of times and never caused any trouble, and he still treats me like a criminal. Someday I'm gonna have to show him who's boss," he emphasized with a shaking fist.

"Never got into trouble?" his friend repeated as he began scanning the books. " I don't think I can believe that."

"Well, mostly not into trouble," he defended as he pulled out paper and pencil. "Besides, most of those incidents were before he started working here."

"Now it's incidents?" Jack mused, and then he noticed a glass case in one corner. He stepped up and glanced at the book atop the soft velvet. A Call for Sanctuary: The Town's History from the Founding to the Present Day. "Hey, isn't this the same book we found at the inn?" he asked his friend.

"Yeah, I noticed that when you handed me the book," Kyle revealed. He pulled out the better-aged copy from the inn. "That one can't be picked up without falling apart, so it's dumb luck that we found this one."

"What about the other books?" Jack inquired. He began peering at the others on the shelves and the ones Kyle held. "Are they in here?"

"Actually, they aren't, I already looked," his companioned commented. "But there are some others ones in here my teacher told me to read through, so we'd better get started," he pointed out as he looked at his phone. "The clock's ticking and I'm sure that jerk is watching it like a hawk."

The boys got to work and divided up the reading material amongst themselves. They compared notes and comments between one another. Scribbled notes slowly filled the pages of paper. Books were strewn about with used cotton gloves covered in ages of dust. Then the assistant librarian knocked on the door. He peeked inside and scowled at the mess.

"Time's up in twenty minutes," he warned and, with one last distasteful glance, he closed the door.

"Well, better get this place ship shape," Jack announced as he stood up.

With their combined efforts the books were neatly stacked on the desk for the page to place back, per the library rules, and the cotton gloves were put into a laundry basket to be cleaned and reused. The task took less than the time given to them, but the assistant looked in early to see their progress. He was pleased to see they'd followed directions, but not pleased to see the stack of books they had used.

"Did you have to use all those?" he complained as Kyle slipped the inn books into his backpack. "Hey!" he protested, and he grabbed at the bag. "You can't take those from the library!"

"They're not the library's!" Kyle argued, and he jerked the bag away from his grasp. "So back off!"

Everyone outside heard the commotion as the assistant tried another go at taking the bag. He and Kyle finally had their fight as they wrestled for supremacy over the backpack. Jack could only move around the other side of the desk as onlookers blocked the doorway.

"What's all this about?" an imperious voice broke through the noise.

Everyone froze and the crowd parted to allow a woman of near middle age to enter the small room. She wore heavy glasses and a smooth, plain tan skirt with a simple white blouse. The ensemble was everything Jack imagined a stereotypical librarian wore, and he was spot on with his guess. She was the head librarian, and she was mad.

"What in the world is going on?" she snapped at the two guilty parties. She closed the door behind her, nearly smashing a few faces and fingers. "Mr. Jenkins, explain."

"This boy's trying to take library property," he argued.

"It doesn't belong to the library!" Kyle shot back. Jack noticed his friend's eyes flickered over to the closed door. He seemed about to bolt through it.

"Show me what you're arguing about," she commanded in a tone which didn't elicit petty demand. She was honestly curious to see what the fight was about. Kyle removed the copy of A Call for Sanctuary from his bag and carefully handed it to her. Thankfully during the tussle nothing had been damaged. She was surprised to see the title on the cover. "Where did you get this?" she asked as she turned the book over. "It's in much better shape than our own," she complimented.

"From the inn, Ms. Huxley," he informed. Jack recognized the name, and realized she was probably somehow related to Amanda. "I'm borrowing it from Jack's mom."

"So you must be the owner's son," she guessed, and she held out her hand for him to shake. "Pleasure to meet you, young Jack."

"Thanks," he shakily returned. He wasn't accustomed to such refinery.

"Mr. Jenkins, you seem to be in the wrong here," she commented, and she regretfully handed back the copy. "I expect an apology and for you to get back to your duties."

"I'm sorry," he hurriedly muttered before he broke through the group and scurried out. She scowled after him, but turned back to the boys with a smile.

"After that incident, it might be best if you boys don't come back for a while," she suggested, and held up her hand to stop any protests. "Just for a little while," she explained as she nodded at the history book she had admired. "Besides, you won't find a better history of the area than that book," she pointed out.

"I'm glad to have any excuse not to come back here," Kyle agreed. He stuffed the book into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He was out of the room so quickly Jack expected to see dust behind him.

"Though I would like to have a look at that copy, Jack," she pleaded before he was able to follow his friend. Her gaze fell upon the glass case. "I'm afraid our library's copy isn't of much use anymore for light reading," she joked. "The library flooded some years ago and that was the only copy we could save." She sighed and shook her head. "That poor museum down there has flooded a lot."

Kyle's head stuck back in, but he didn't enter the room.

"So who's the guy who wrote it?" Kyle interrupted. "He write anything else?"

"Mr. Percival?" she asked, and the young man nodded his head. "He was a bit of an antiquarian for the town. He got the museum started with Jonathon Fletcher."

"Mr. Fletcher's dad?" Kyle asked.

"The very one," Ms. Huxley agreed with a smile.

Jack was entirely lost in the conversation of relationships. His eyes wandered around the small library, and they focused on some narrow stairs in the far back behind the front desk. They went down to a landing and then turned to disappear into the depths of the library. Ms. Huxley noticed his gaze.

"That's where our museum is," she proudly announced. She glanced around the emptying library. It was almost the dinner hour. "Looks like my clients are leaving, so would you two like to have a look?"

"Sure, I guess," Jack hesitantly agreed.

"It's not flooded right now, is it?" Kyle sincerely asked.

"Not right now, but you never know when it'll trap some unsuspecting boys," she teased. She pulled out the keyring and picked out a particularly large one. "Besides, this won't take very long, you know how crammed it is in there, Kyle."

"Yeah, like a sardine can," he quipped.

"I'm afraid so, but there's enough oddities you might find something interesting," Ms. Huxley encouraged. "Now let's give you your first look of it, Jack."
Chapter 10

Beneath the Ground

Ms. Huxley nodded for the boys to come after her down the old wooden stairs. Kyle glanced at Jack and shrugged his shoulders, and they followed her down into the narrow landing. She was waiting for them at the bottom in front of a large, sturdy wooden door. There was a thick metal lock on the tall handle.

"We saved this door from one of the older houses in the town," she noted. "It fit pretty well after the original was damaged during the last flooding of the place."

"How often does it flood?" Jack asked.

"About once a decade," Ms. Huxley sighed. She unlocked the door and swung it open into the room. "That's why everything's on tables."

Jack's eyes widened as the room was revealed to him. The room was without any partitions, and the walls were roughly plastered. There were several levels of stains along the walls which showed the countless times water had seeped through the thin foundation. What really got his attention, however, was the tables. Ms. Huxley wasn't kidding when she said that everything was on tables. Along three sides of the walls there were tall, thick-legged metal tables of all shapes, sizes and even colors. On those pieces of furniture were old items small and large. Pots and pans were piled high along the tops and leaned against the walls. Old metal barrels and farm tools lay on another table, while the heavier things like an old mining cradle and a table-top chainsaw covered the back wall.

The most interesting thing to both Jack and Kyle, however, was a small ten foot square cell in the far back. Jack headed straight for that, and his friend was close on his heels.

"Neat, hunh?" Kyle asked as they stepped up to it.

"Definitely kinda cool," Jack admitted.

One of his hands gripped a bar, and he looked inside. He noticed the bottom strips of metal were securely fastened to the floor. The bars were also very firm, and there was a heavy metal padlock on the door similar to the one on the entrance to the basement.

"Just like boys to find this immediately," Ms. Huxley joked. She stood beside them and tapped on one of the bars. "This used to be the town jail for a few years back in the nineteenth century until they realized how bad it flooded."

"So when'd you add the lock?" Kyle asked. "I remember getting in there when I went on a field trip here."

"After you went on your last field trip here," she pointed out. "The teachers thought perhaps you'd put future generations on a bad path, so they had me lock the door."

Jack was only half listening to their conversation. His eyes had caught sight of a dark, rectangular shadow on the left side of the cell beneath one of the close tables. He drifted over to it and knelt down on the ground for a better look. It appeared to be some sort of grated gutter. The space inside was only about six inches deep, but the bottom dropped out into some cavernous hole. There was also a putrid odor of decay emitting from its depths. Far off he could hear the almost imperceptible sound of something dripping.

None of that was what was bothering Jack, however. He squinted and leaned in closer. There was something odd about the shadows in there. It was almost like they didn't move with the light like they should. Jack hardly noticed when Kyle came up beside him, and bent over with a serious expression on his face.

"You think there's some monsters down there?" Kyle teased.

"I don't know," Jack quietly wondered. He couldn't take his eyes off it. "There's just...just something wrong with it."

"Well, that's because it doesn't work," his friend pointed out. "Right, Ms. Huxley?"

"What's that about?" she asked. With the two boys in the way she wasn't sure what they were looking at.

"This drain here doesn't really work," he commented as he pointed at the grated hole. "Something about it not getting to the sewer or something?"

"It gets to the sewer, but the water men can't figure out why it gets clogged up sometimes," she admitted. "The city council's been dreaming of moving the museum or getting the sewers fixed, but both ideas are too expensive."

Suddenly Kyle slapped his back, and Jack, unprepared for the hit, fell forward. For a few brief moments time stood still. His face was close enough for the stale air to waft over his nostrils. He could see passed the angle of the floor and into the depths of darkness beyond.

Something twitched.

Then time sped up, and his vision was pulled from the hole. Kyle was at his side, unaware anything strange had just occurred.

"We'd better get going, Jack," Kyle mentioned as he tapped on his wrist. "We gotta get you back home before your mom wonders if I kidnapped you," he pointed out. Besides, Kyle wanted to get out of the musty place.

"Yeah, I guess," Jack hesitated. He gave one last, long glance at the hole before Kyle nearly pulled him from the spot.

"Interesting place, isn't it?" Ms. Huxley mused as she led them up the stairs. "I wish I could get it in order, but I'm terrible at anything that hasn't already been set out for me in alphabetical order," she joked. When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned to Jack. "Oh Jack, I was wondering if I might have a glance at that book next time you boys come to the library."

"Yeah, sure thing," Jack muttered. He paused at the top of the stairs and glanced down at the thick door beneath. There was still something so wrong about that hole, and it really bothered him.

"I bet his mom'd let you have a look at it whenever you want, Ms. Huxley," Kyle chimed in. He smacked Jack's back to get his attention. "Right, Jack?"

"Yeah, probably," Jack absently agreed as they stepped up to the front desk. "But I'll have to ask her first."

"Well, I hope to see you both soon," she replied with a smile. "Oh, and Jack," she called out as they crossed the front area. She grabbed a brochure off the front desk and handed it to him. Jack looked at the pamphlet with the words Town Founder Celebration emblazoned on the front. Black and white photographs and wood carvings covered the few pages with details of the vendors and events which would take place. There was also a roughly drawn map of the area which showed historical locations, including the inn. "You might need this," she hinted with a wink.

"Um, thanks," he replied. He folded it and placed it in his back pocket.

They received more than their fair share of looks as they passed by the tables. Everyone who remained in the library was hoping for a rematch between Kyle and Mr. Jenkins, but the assistant made sure to be looking the other way as they passed where he was working on the shelves by the door. They walked down the steps outside the library and both breathed a sigh of relief. Kyle for his shout-out with Jenkins and Jack away from that strange gutter.

"Man, I thought we were gonna be arrested or something," Kyle spoke up as he wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow. "That guy almost got us into some deep shit."

"Yeah, my mom would've killed me," Jack agreed as their bikes were freed. He hopped on his and pointed it toward the inn. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?" he inquired.

"Same time, same place," his friend promised. "But hopefully without the bat-shit crazy Jenkins," he joked. They waved and sped off in their separate directions.

Jack would have enjoyed the bike ride if the setting sun hadn't been his constant reminder that his time was almost up. He pedaled as fast and as far as his energy would allow, and soon he found himself on the upslope toward the inn as the fading rays loomed over the tall building. His mom was waiting for him at the front doors with a spoon in her hand and a tap in her foot.

"You're almost late," she commented.

"But...not quite," he gasped as he leaned his bike inside the entrance arch. He felt like he needed to collapse and catch some air.

"Well, dinner's ready and I hope you're hungry," she tempted as her wagging spoon through red stains over the ground. "I put too much spaghetti noodles in the crock, and we're going to be up to our eyeballs in the stuff for a week."

"Could be worse," Jack commented as he shrugged his shoulders. "Could be tuna casserole." His mom stuck out her tongue and shook her head

"You're right, that stuff's nasty," she agreed as she looked at the bike. "Kyle let you borrow one of his?" she inquired.

"Actually, his older brother gave that to me," he proudly informed.

"It's a pretty nice bike," she complimented as she absently kicked at the wheels. Her perusal was interrupted by the growling of both their stomachs. "And there's our cue to go eat dinner."

The two companions ate heartily and, through lively conversation, the pile of food was dented with their efforts and their stomachs were filled. Later Jack went up to his room to read through book for a while, but found the entries a little boring. He was just nodding off when he heard a soft knock at his door and his mom peeked in.

"Not in bed yet?" she asked as she smiled at him.

"Not yet, just wanted to finish up a few more pages of this old book," he informed as he held up the old cover.

"Speaking of old, there's something I wanted to talk to you about your grandfather," his mom announced, and she slipped into the room.

"Really?" Jack wondered. Maybe now he would get some answers to last night's heated discussion between the two.

"I know he can be pretty intimidating," she began. Jack couldn't help but nod enthusiastically while she sat down on the bed.. "But don't let that get to you. If he asks you to do something you don't want to. Even if it's just a walk, you don't have to go."

"Is he a molester or something?" her son honestly questioned. The way she was phrasing her statement made him uneasy.

"I didn't mean it that way," she hurriedly corrected herself. "It's just that if you don't feel comfortable around him, feel free to walk away." She let out a small, soft snort. "He may even respect you for turning your back to him."

"He's that crazy?" Jack asked. She still wasn't helping him feel better about this conversation.

"It's just...it's just that he can be pretty pushy. I should know," she mused with a dry frown. "And he might think he can order you around, but I haven't given him that right," she explained. "So if you want to tell him no to anything you think would get you into trouble, do it. I promise I won't get mad."

"K, mom," he agreed, but he still wasn't comforted. Especially with having this discussion right before he was going to shut off the lights.

"If you need me, I'm just through that wall," she tried to joke as she knocked against the wallpaper.

"I'll be fine," Jack comforted as he smiled at her.

"That's my boy," she complimented, and she ruffled his dark hair. "You'd better get some sleep," she scolded. She nodded at the clock. The time read near nine. "I don't want to have to wake you up every morning."

"I will, just gotta finish this entry," he agreed. They bid their goodnights and she left.

Jack went back to his reading and soon finished the page he was on. He used the brochure he'd gotten from Ms. Huxley to mark the page before he began to absently flip through the future notes. His eyes caught an entry dated during the first winter. On the full spread had been scribbled a simple map of a wooded area with a square marked out in the center. The far left corner was marked another square and the word cemetery had been written above it.

Jack sat up as he realized the drawing he was looking at described the key features of the old town of Sanctuary, including a large outline beneath the cemetery and above the town which he assumed was the older version of the inn. This all looked familiar, so he grabbed the brochure Ms. Huxley had given him earlier that day and opened the inner pages to reveal a full sweep of the area. Setting the old book next to the new map, he realized they were nearly identical as the placement of general points of the township matched up perfectly.

There were several markings on the journal map, however, which had not been transferred over to the brochure. They were also not identified by any words or decipherable symbols, since he couldn't find a map legend. Circles had been made in the woods to the right of the inn and far into the center of the mountain. Other lines stretched out from the inn on the right side, but they didn't run very far. He wasn't sure if the unknown point went farther, stopped only by the writer's hand, or if it really ended there.

Jack wondered how the Historical Association had gotten a hold of the old map in the journal. He eagerly flipped to the previous page and read through the entry, dated in December of 1760. He found the last paragraph especially interesting:

A great fever has swept through the inhabits, taking many but sparing the strongest. Work continues on the buildings to shelter those too ill to finish their own homes. A cemetery has been sooner than I would like, but the dead must be buried. Many voices speak of something evil amongst the woods as the reports of a werewolf have reached out tiny settlement. I have done my best to qualm their fears, but to no avail. If God has not forsaken me, then let him help me.

Jack paused there in the entry and lifted his head in amazement. He had expected to find mentions of death, especially during the winter entries, but werewolves was something completely different. He hadn't even realized there were any mentions of them in the New World, other than a few vague ideas of their existence.

He was entirely stunned and eager to read on until his roving eyes settled upon his clock, and he realized it was already past ten o'clock.

"Ugh, mom's gonna kill me tomorrow," he muttered to himself as he regretfully closed the book. He was careful to mark the page with the brochure, and he leaned over to place the book on the nightstand and shut off the reading lamp.

He was just about to turn the knob to envelope the room in darkness when he suddenly froze. He couldn't explain it but he had the strange feeling that something had entered the room.

Slowly Jack turned around and nearly fell off the far side of the bed. His eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the shadows of his bedroom's entrance.He caught himself, however, and his breath caught in throat as he recognized the silhouette as that of his grandfather. He wasn't too comforted by that thought, though, and he swallowed hard as he righted himself. Jack wished for nothing else but to slink under the covers and wait for the nightmare to leave.

"Good evening," his elder greeted, and he gave a slight bow of his head.

"Hi," Jack managed to croak out. He felt vulnerable lying on his bed, so he stood to his feet.

"Are you ready?" his grandfather questioned.

"Ready?" the boy repeated as he blinked nervously. "Ready for what?" He tried not to shiver as a slow smile spread across his pale lips.

"I have a few thing to show you," his grandfather informed. He took a few steps toward the bed. Jack felt like diving for the door. "Get on your coat."

Jack couldn't really believe what he was hearing. It was almost like his mother's examples from their conversation were being played out verbatim. His grandfather was really predictable.

"I'm not going anywhere," he affirmed with a scowl. He crossed his arms over his chest for added emphasis. "But you can leave."

Jack took a nervous few steps back as a hint of anger spread across his grandfather's face, but the emotion was soon turned to indifference. He strolled over to his armoire, opened a door and removed a coat. He flung the item on the bed.

"Put it on, the night isn't getting any younger," his elder commanded.

Jack's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"Did you hear me? I'm not going outside with you!" he argued in exasperation, and he flung up his arms. He didn't care if his voice was loud. Maybe his mom would hear him through the thin walls. "You want me to put on my coat and do what? Go outside in the middle of the night?" he questioned. "Are you crazy?!"

"Then I will make a bargain with you," his grandfather suggested as he slowly began to stroll along the length of the room. Jack, struck dumbfounded by this sudden turn in the conversation, only waited for him to continue. His curiosity was peeked. "If I am able to state your symptoms correctly, you will agree to come with me."

"Symptoms? Of what?" Jack demanded to know. He wasn't sick. "I feel fine."

"Your mother may be willfully blind, but I have no such impairment," he bluntly commented. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and stared intently at his grandson. "You are ill. The symptoms are insignificant, but there is something different about you.

"I have a better one," Jack challenged. His grandfather's wager sounded like a losing proposition. "How about you just leave?"

Suddenly his grandfather was at his side with their faces only a few inches from each other. He let out a yelp and tried to scramble backwards, but was stopped as a pale hand shot out to grab his collar.

"Foolish little boy," he snarled. His breath was awful. Jack grabbed his hand and tried to free himself. He couldn't even make a finger move. "You have no idea what you are refusing, and yet you stand here blindly repeating no as though you did." He tossed him away and Jack stumbled back to hit the wall beside the windows.

"How can you expect me to go with you when all you do is threaten?" he pointed out as he pulled at his collar. The cloth felt stretched.

"Because you want answers," he coldly explained. Jack shot him a glance, but his grandfather's eyes were on the book sitting on his nightstand. "And I have them to give to you."

"How do you even know I have questions?" his grandson remarked. "You don't know anything about me. You don't even know what I do all day."

"You and your friend have been looking into the history of this place," he commented. He flipped open the cover to the marked page. His long fingers traced the old map, but they stopped on the circle to the far right of the inn. "Perhaps you'd like to know what's out there?" he tempted. Jack felt like the devil was trying to draw him into a contract signed in blood. He would rather have Kyle along as a companion, during the day, then the scenario offered to him at this moment. His grandfather looked up at him and seemed to read his thoughts. "There can be no guide better than I," he added with a strange smile. "You may not even find the path to follow."

"How can I even trust you?" Jack asked with a frown.

"Because blood is thicker than water, boy," he countered, and the old man held up his hand. Jack's eyes traced the pale lines crossing those wizened wrinkles, and he couldn't help but shiver as though someone had stepped on his grave. "Will you go with me, or stay here to play with your dusty books?" he challenged.

"I think I'll stay here and go to sleep," Jack insisted. "And frankly, I want you to get out."

"As you wish," his grandfather accepted as he gave one of his strange bows. Jack didn't like that fact that his smile was still on his face. "But you will have to find me later," he enigmatically added, and he quietly left the room.

"We'll see," Jack muttered, and he prepared for bed.
Chapter 11

Exploration

"Now that's a little better," Jack's mom complimented as she met him in the lobby at a decent hour the next morning. "So what are your plans for today?" she inquired.

"Maybe look around the inn, I found a cool map in that old book I wanna follow," Jack explained. He noticed there was a fire burning in the chimney. "You getting cold?" he offhandedly remarked, and he nodded toward the burning wood.

"Not really, but I do have to say this for your grandfather," she conceded as they sauntered over to the warm flames. "He does make a nice fire."

"He's been making these?" Jack questioned. He looked at the comforting flames and wondered what ulterior motive his grandfather had for creating such goodness. "Why?"

"Maybe he's cold," his mother suggested as she shrugged. Her eyes, too, were captured by the dancing shadows of the flames. "But it does give the lobby a more cheery feeling, doesn't it?" she wondered. She glanced over her shoulder at the large space. "It's just a little too big to feel like a living room, isn't it?" she mildly joked.

"Just a little," Jack teased back. The clock suddenly began chiming, and he counted off nine rings before it died away. "That sure is a creepy clock," he commented with a nod toward it.

"It certainly has a strange tune," she agreed with a frown. "Kind of haunting, actually."

"Firewood material?" Jack joked.

"Behave," she scolded, but she did laugh. "It's old enough to be your grandfather," she pointed out, but then she turned back to the fireplace. Her eyes glanced around the clean area near the mantle. "Speaking of firewood, I wonder where your grandfather is getting the wood," she mused.

"Maybe he found a pile out back?" Jack suggested.

Any further discussion was interrupted by a loud but polite knock on the front doors. Emily looked to Jack who could only shrug before she walked over to the front doors. She opened one to reveal Ms. Huxley standing in the entrance with a smile on her face.

"Good morning," she greeted, and she held out her hand. "My name is Ms. Diane Huxley, and I'm a representative from the Sanctuary Historical Association."

"A pleasure to meet you," Mrs. Erikson returned. They shook hands and she showed her into the lobby. "What can I do for you today?"

"Actually, it's what we'd like to do for you that brings me here," she explained. Ms. Huxley gave Jack a wink and pulled out a flier. "I'm sure you've heard the town's celebrating its two hundred and fiftieth anniversary?"

"Yes, there's going to be a celebration in about two weeks, isn't there?" she inquired, and she looked at the flier announcing the celebration.

"Exactly, and that's why I've come here to invite you and your family to be the town's guests of honor for the event," she announced.

"But we just got here, and the town only gets to celebrate one of these, so I'm sure there's someone who deserves this honor more than us," Mrs. Erikson protested. She tried to give back the flier, but Ms. Huxley only batted away her attempts.

"Now don't be so stubbornly modest," she scolded. Jack couldn't help but smirk as his mom was being reprimanded. It was a once-in-a-lifetime show. "The inn and the town are one and the same," she explained, and she swept her hand over the old lobby with its grandness. "As the new owners of the inn, you're the perfect guests of honor for the town's celebration." Jack noticed that her hand paused for a moment over the old clock. "So I must insist that you all accept our invitation."

"I still don't like it, but I agree with you about the inn and town being connected," Mrs. Erikson commented with a smile. "You can tell the Association we'll be glad to attend."

"Perfect," Ms. Huxley jubilantly replied. She counted the two people in front of her. "I believe we can expect three of you?" she hesitantly asked.

"Well, my father is currently living with us, but I don't believe he'll be attending," she informed Ms. Huxley. "He generally isn't too sociable."

"We'd be glad to have him, anyway, and I'll make sure to save an extra spot for him at the dinner table," she laughed, and she looked around herself. "And might I add, the place is already looking like its old self."

"We're trying," Jack's mom agreed as she, too surveyed the cleaning job. "It'll be a few weeks yet before even half the rooms are clean, though." She noticed their guest's glance had settled on the old clock. "Strange you should be looking at that old clock," she pointed out. "We were just discussing how old it is. Do you have any ideas?"

"I believe Midnight's been here since the place was built," Ms. Huxley slowly informed them.

"Midnight?" the mother repeated. "The clock has a name?"

"Well, not at the beginning, no," she admitted. Jack had a feeling their guest didn't really want to tell them too much. "It acquired the name over the years after some strange occurrences."

"Oh, some sort of haunting?" Mrs. Erikson guessed. She winked at Jack in good humor. "I'm surprised Kyle hasn't said anything about it."

"I doubt he knows too much about those stories," Ms. Huxley informed. Her mouth was set in a grim line. "The older residents of the town don't like to talk about them, and they were only written down in a few old journals kept by the Association."

"What kind of stories?" her host inquired. Her jesting died away and Jack could see his mom was worried. "Is there anything dangerous about the inn?"

"Well, not exactly," she hesitated to explain. "The name stems from the tales of the old clock chiming twelve times whenever disaster strikes the area. I'm sure you've heard the inn nearly burnt down over one hundred years ago?" she asked as she turned to Mrs. Erikson, who nodded her head. "The fire was only noticed because several of the guests heard Midnight chiming in the lobby."

"Well, if it was midnight, that makes sense," Mrs. Erikson argued, but she paused with her mouth when Ms. Huxley turned to her. Her face was slightly pale and she looked between the silent family members.

"Actually, the time on the other clocks read half past nine."

"Well, surely there must have been a mistake," Emily stammered.

"I only know that the first hand accounts each mentioned the clock warning them," Ms. Huxley commented. "I suppose you could say it's our own black dog myth."

"Black dog?" her hostess repeated. Jack was lost on the analogy, too, but he was reminded of the strange entry of werewolves in the journal.

"Oh, an old superstition where the appearance of a large black dog foretells danger," she shrugged and the mood lightened. "In this case, the men found an overturned candle and a curtain on fire, and were able to put out the fire before it had spread beyond the wall." She paused and thought for a moment. "Actually, the use of black is quite appropriate for the clock." She pointed out the hands and the pendulum. "The metal parts were produced from a rare rock found in the area when the town was founded. I don't believe any other fragments of the rock have been found except by one or two other locals."

"Well, I suppose we have our own alarm system," Mrs. Erikson tried to joke. "So the new addition was added after the fire?" she inquired. Jack suspected she was trying to move the subject away from the odd stories.

"That's correct," Ms. Huxley explained. "The owners at that time took the opportunity to expand the structure and install electricity to replace the oil and candle lamps," she agreed, and she glanced toward the west wing. "They also added the boiler in a hole they found while digging out the foundation for that part of the inn."

"Well, I think they did a great job of making the new part identical to the first," Mrs. Erikson complimented with a satisfied nod. "You can't even tell there was nothing there for most of the inn's life."

"It is quite beautiful, isn't it?" Ms. Huxley concurred. She looked at her watch and clicked her tongue. "And it looks like I've stayed a little longer than I meant to," she scolded herself. "It's been a pleasure to meet you both, and I hope soon to see some of those exciting parties the inn was so famous for," she sincerely spoke as she shook both their hands.

"You don't have to wait long," Mrs. Erikson informed with a smile. "We're having one on Halloween if we can manage it."

"You have quite the challenge ahead of you," their guest appreciated, "but if you need anything for the party, feel free to call the Association and we'd be glad to help." Ms. Huxley gave Emily a card with the group and her phone numbers.

"I'll remember that," she promised as they gave their farewells and parted ways.

When they heard her car drive away, Emily turned to her son.

"Don't make too much out of that clock story, Jack," she kindly warned. He wondered if she was trying to convince herself. "They have a lot of stories about old places and things which turn out not to be true."

"Yeah," he half-heartedly agreed.

"Well, after that fun I guess we'd better get to work," she encouraged, and she looked at the flier in her hand. "At least formal attire isn't required," she sighed. "I wouldn't know what to wear."

"A dress," Jack teased, and he was able to escape the flier as it was swung at him. "I'll take that as my cue to go do some homework," he called back over his shoulder as he vaulted the staircase.

"You'd better!" she threatened while he rounded the corner.

In the passage Jack slowed down and pondered the conversation with their unexpected visitor. He probably would have thought less of it if his mother hadn't insisted there was nothing wrong, but her warning made him wonder if she believed more of the story than she was willing to admit. The largest snag his mind found when he realized there wasn't anything inherently sinister about the story, just...uneasy. No one liked being reminded of the bad things that could happen in such an old building, and the story perfectly exemplified those dangers, but added a supernatural element to the risk.

The worst part about the supernatural is you can't control it.

"Like werewolves..." he muttered. He walked into his room and set open the old diary.

The cover opened to the map, and those circled areas stared back at him as though casting a challenge. They dared him to find their secrets hidden in those dark trees which murmured with dark, unspoken stories. He wasn't so sure he wanted to find the answer to this mystery as he lay down on the bed and flipped past the page.

Jack wasn't sure he wanted to find any more interesting pieces of information, and his wish was granted. Easing through the barely legible pages there was no return to the mention of werewolves and no hint about what the markings on the map signified. The entries appeared to be more concerned with the dwindling supplies and increasing illness of even the healthiest colonists. Their stocks were low enough the author pondered whether sending the most robust men to fetch more food wouldn't be an option. Families were having to bunk with one another because of the shortage of houses, leading to overcrowding and the passing of disease. They had been forced to send children for firewood because too few adults were available for the work. At the worsening rate, few people would survive the horrible winter.

Jack didn't realize he had his breath held until there was a sudden knock on his door. His head jerked up and his mom peeked inside with a smile on her face.

"Wow, you really are still studying," she teased. She noticed his pale face. "Something wrong?" she questioned.

"Nah, it's nothing," he comforted, and he closed the book. He rubbed his eyes and realized he was hungry. "What's there to eat?" he asked.

"Well, right now there's some tuna sandwiches," she informed. He noticed she was slowing pulling back and closing the door. A wicked smile appeared on her face and Jack frowned. "But only if I don't eat them first."

Jack scrambled off his bed and they raced downstairs. They reached the kitchen at about the same time and split the spoils between them. Just as they were finishing, the clock struck one in the afternoon and they suddenly heard one of the front doors. The two peaked their heads out of the kitchen to find Kyle out of breath and panting in the doorway.

"Hi...guys..." he rasped. He dropped his bag to the ground and staggered over to the bench seat, where he collapsed. "Wow, that lane...isn't short," he complimented.

"Kyle, what are you doing out of school?" Mrs. Erikson scolded as she looked at the clock. "There should be at least one more hour left."

"I told....my teachers...I needed...more time....for my project," he explained. "So they gave me...the afternoons off...until I'm done."

"And you biked here as fast as you could," she finished. She shook her head and patted Jack on the shoulder. "Good luck with him," she muttered to her son, and she went back into the kitchen.

"So what you been...up to?" Kyle asked when Jack sat down beside him. He had just about caught his wind. "Not too much without me...I hope."

"Not much, just found some interesting stuff in that journal," Jack elusively informed. He got the expected response when Kyle dropped the drama act and sprang back to life.

"What'd you find?" he demanded to know as he jumped to his feet. "Secret passages? Skeletons in the closet?"

"I don't really know," he replied with a shrug. "But you may as well come take a look, they might mean something to you."

The boys trudged to the room and Kyle pounced on the small book. Jack had to gingerly take it from him and point out the correct page to stop him from furiously flipping through the fragile papers. His friend was a bundle of energy while he traced his finger over the paths leading to the circles.

"Jack?" Kyle finally spoke up as he lifted his bright, eager eyes. "Ready for some exploring?"

"Like I have a choice?" he returned, but even he was wanting to see where this would lead.

"We'll head off to this one," Kyle suggested as he pointed out the circle in the upper right area of the map. "Obviously the other circle is the cemetery and these other areas are a little too far for us to go today."

"Shouldn't we really be writing your paper?" Jack asked even as he put on his coat. "I mean, isn't the paper due in about a week?"

"Ten days," Kyle corrected his friend. He marked the page and put it into his bag. "And I have it half written, just need a few more interesting details to make it really cool," he explained as he flipped on his backpack. "I'd say finding some buried treasure would be pretty cool."

Jack rolled his eyes and said nothing as he followed his eager friend outside and down the sloped hill. They followed an overgrown path toward the thick tree line and into the woods. This path was as little used as the one to the cemetery, and but for the wild creatures the boys would probably have lost the trail a few yards inside the trees. After wandering for a hundred yards they came upon a fork on the path and Kyle pulled out the book.

"I wish this had a little more detail," he complained as he tried to line up the map with their travels.

"It's got more detail than the map on the brochure," Jack chimed in as he tripped over a root.

"What about that map?" Kyle asked him. He suddenly stopped and half turned. His companion nearly collided into him.

"That map in the journal looks almost exactly like the map on the brochure Ms. Huxley gave me yesterday," he explained, and he nodded toward the bookmark. "See for yourself."

"Maybe later, for now we have treasure to find," his companion trudged on. They went on for only a few dozen yards when he stopped again and scowled. Jack looked over his shoulder. "This says there's supposed to be three paths here."

"The map is over two hundred and fifty years old," Jack pointed out. "Maybe the other trail is buried beneath all this brush."

"Yeah, but the path we want is probably the one that's missing," his friend informed as he pointed at the map. The path they wanted was the trail on the far right.

"Well, maybe the other one got lost," Jack suggested to his companion. His eyes roamed down the farthest path. "I'm surprised there are any of those paths here for us to follow."

"Guess we have no choice," Kyle announced, and he shut the book. "Let's get marching."

Jack followed his uncertain leader while they walked deeper into the forest. The heavy canopy blocked out most of the sun's welcoming light and left only shattered beams scattered through the brush. The air here wasn't as oppressive as the cemetery, but it was hard to breathe through the heavy mold in the air. After walking for several minutes and finding no sign of an ending, Jack finally had enough.

"Okay, no more," he protested as he sat down on a log over the path. "We're getting nowhere fast."

"You're right," Kyle agreed as he rubbed his chin. His eyes looked up and down the trail for any hopeful signs. "Did the book say what kind of treasure we'd find?"

"The book didn't say anything about a treasure, you just made that up," Jack pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "Even if there was something here then, it might be gone by now."

"Or it could be buried beneath all this stuff," his friend pointed out, and he kicked a stone. The movement knocked aside some of the brown soil, and he suddenly snapped his fingers. "What if it is buried?" he suggested. "We could try digging along here kinda where the 'x' is and see if we hit something. Are there any shovels around here?"

"I don't know," Jack replied in exasperation, but a flash of memory hit him. He had seen that shed the first time Kyle had visited, and he slowly stood to his feet. "But there's a shed by the inn that might have something in it," he guessed.

"Good, let's go!" Kyle encouraged. He turned his friend around and pushed Jack back down the path.

"Hey hey, what's the rush!" Jack argued as he nearly face planted into the ground.

"These days aren't getting any longer," Kyle countered. With his insistence they soon emerged out into the daylight, and Jack glanced up at the sun which had not yet begun to set. Kyle was impatient with even that short delay. "Come on, no lagging behind."

"Yes, sir," Jack playfully agreed, and they marched back up the hill.

Jack led them toward where he recalled the shed had stood some distance from the inn. It was half hidden in a clump of wild rose bushes some two hundred yards from the main building. The thorny plants took them some time to get through before they could catch a good glimpse of the structure.

The low building had a heavily sloped roof and a single, filthy paned window on the south side. The walls and door appeared to be made of ancient pieces of barn wood fastened together with massive nails. An old metal handle stuck out from the door, and Jack half expected it to fly off when Kyle gave it a pull. However, the wood moved an inch or two and his friend put more muscle into it. The door slowly creaked open.

They looked inside the dark interior and could just make out a plain wood floor with a bench at the far wall. A pile of junk stood on top of the long table and Jack recognized the rusted machinations as traps for small and large animals. Some miscellaneous supplies stood in a corner to their right and Kyle reached in to point out a few rusted looking shovels amongst them.

"Bingo," he chimed in, and he hurriedly stepped inside. He had only moved a few feet toward the tools when his foot caught a loose board and he tumbled to the ground. He hit the floor face down, but caught himself with his hands and knees. "Damn it," he swore as he rolled over.

"Kyle!" Jack yelled. He scrambled inside to his fallen comrade. "You all right?"

"Yeah, just my pride broken," he grumbled as he rubbed his bruised knee. He scowled at the piece of wood which stuck up from the others. "Damn rotten things," he complained. "Let's just grab the shovels and get digging."

With their prizes over their shoulders they returned to the right-hand path and began digging around the fallen tree Jack had sat on. Kyle was enthusiastic as he dug a few inches through root and rock and, finding nothing, would go to another spot along the route. Jack half-heartedly joined in and worked slowly on a hole or two as they dug the day away.

Finally Jack had had enough and sat down on his fallen log. He wiped some of the dirt and sweat from his face and he looked up into what he could see of the darkening sky overhead. The night was coming on and soon they would have a lot of trouble getting back.

"I think we need to stop," he announced to Kyle, and he looked over to his friend.

"Just a few more holes," he countered. He somehow found more energy and began working wildly at the hole he was digging at.

"Come on, Kyle, we aren't gonna find anything," Jack pointed out as he waved his hand along the path. "This place is huge, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack." He watched Kyle for a few moments before he cracked a grin. "You're gonna have a stroke that way."

"Nah, too normal," Kyle disagreed as he finally stopped shoveling. "If I'm gonna go out young, it's gonna be in some strange and cool way."

"Then you'd better stop or that heart attack is gonna get in the way of your plans," Jack laughed as he stood to his sore feet. He surveyed their work with a wide grin. "Looks like a mad gopher went through here," he joked. "But at least we got some exercise."

"Yay," Kyle muttered. He leaned on his shovel and scowled at the holes.

"We'd better get back to the inn, anyway," Jack informed, and he shouldered his shovel. "It's going to start getting dark soon and I doubt my mom's gonna want to let us stay out here."

"Wish there was some way of finding out where that trail is," his friend grumbled as they trudged out of the woods.

Jack grew quiet as he wondered about the option they did have for finding the path. He didn't like the other way, and probably would have suggested they dig until their arms fall off, but he somehow knew this just wasn't going to work.

He needed to ask his grandfather to show him the way.
Chapter 12

For What Price

Later that night found Jack in his bedroom watching as the minutes ticked by on his clock. Kyle had left after swearing to return and dig up half the property to find the treasure. Jack had only smiled and nodded his head as he waved him on, but his mind was on the task he had given himself.

The entire day he had not seen his grandfather, but the fire had still been tended by his invisible presence. Tonight Jack would wait up for him to ask his relation about those paths in the woods. Unfortunately, in order to have a private conversation he needed to wait for his mom to go to sleep. He'd heard her feet creak softly along the floor an hour before, and then the door to her room had opened and closed. He took no risks and waited for these last sixty minutes to allow her time to shower and dress for bed. Then he grabbed his coat and slid off the bed.

Hearing nothing from the other side of the wall, Jack cautiously stepped out into the hall and noticed there was no light beneath his mom's door. He crept down the passage and moved out onto the staircase landing. The fire still burnt brightly and illuminated the otherwise dark lobby with those dancing flames, casting shadows across the floor and walls. One shadow especially caught his attention and he saw that his grandfather stood at the far side of the mantel with his face turned toward the burning logs.

Jack made his way down the stairs and toward his strange, frightening relative. He noticed his grandfather was dressed as though he had just come inside, what with his hat on his head and his coat draped over his shoulders. The flames reflected off his odd glasses and danced along the lenses in a bright show of light.

"Been waiting long?" Jack pointedly asked. He stepped up to the opposite end of the mantle. After a moment's pause when there was no reply, he continued. "You knew I wouldn't find it, didn't you?"

"Indeed," his grandfather vaguely admitted. He didn't bother to turn toward his grandson. "Did you still want to see the path?" he invited.

"Depends," Jack hesitated. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?" his grandfather faintly repeated. He looked to him now. "What catch were you expecting?"

"Why else would you want to show me?" his grandson pressed.

"I am the only one who can."

"That's not a very good reason," Jack argued. There had to be some sort of ulterior motive behind his grandfather's sudden willingness to help him. "If you're the only one who can, why would you want to show anyone else?"

"Because you are not merely anyone else," his grandfather pointed out. Jack was surprised to hear himself singled out from everyone else. His relation appeared to detest, or at least merely humor, anyone with whom he interacted. "If you do not wish to go, then perhaps you should go to sleep." Jack caught the slight jab and scowled.

"Fine then, show me," Jack challenged, and he put on his coat. "I'm ready, are you?"

"Always."

Jack wondered what his big mouth just got him into as his grandfather pulled out the familiar skeleton key from inside his coat. He flinched away as his relation stepped past him and up to one of the doors leading to the east wing. He took the firm lock in hand and, using the key, released the hold and opened the door.

Pyre didn't wait for Jack to ponder long how his key could fit all the doors before he disappeared inside. His grandson tentatively stuck his head inside and looked upon a ghostly room.

The room appeared to have been used as a sitting area similar to the west wing parlor, complete with high-backed furniture and elegant tables. The fine furniture, however, was covered in sheets dirty and faded with age. Dust lay heavily on the oak and cherry tables, and the oriental carpets where no one had tread in years. The edges lay in tatters from time and rodents. The walls, once covered by beautiful wallpaper, were peeling their decorations and the elegant papered tapestries had fallen to the floor.

The high, narrow windows which surrounded the room on two sides were boarded up and no light escaped from between the shutters. Jack noticed the area was partitioned into two rooms, and a door lay in the center of the wall to their right where they had entered was open. He caught sight of a covered billiard table with billiard cues still hanging on the neglected wall rack. To his immediate right the wall was covered by the rear portion of the fireplace in the lobby. The chimney had been split into two different flumes and only a little bit of heat escaped from the other, warmer side.

Jack couldn't help but shiver as he stood inside the doorway, unsure which direction they would go. There was a feeling of intrusion, like no living soul really belonged in these decrepit rooms. His grandfather stood amongst the ruin almost as though he were a part of the ancient age which permeated the walls.

"So your keys fit in these doors, too?" he whispered. Jack felt he couldn't speak above a murmur for fear of disturbing the room's quiet sleep. He almost believed it had a will of its own which did not want to be disturbed. "I bet even mom doesn't have one of those."

"Questions for another time," was the vague reply, and his grandfather moved forward.

Jack hesitated one final moment before he followed his grandfather passed the forsaken furniture and upon the worn carpets to the far back of the current room. He noticed among the cobwebs there stood two French doors, different from the others he'd seen because of older lattice work and carvings similar to the front entrance of the inn. He wondered what else the vines outside had hidden as his elder pulled out another worn key and unlocked one of the doors. His grandfather pushed open the door, against the protests of the vines outside as a hail of dead leaves floated inside.

Jack cringed as his eerie guide stepped aside and gestured for him to exit first.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbled, but he moved forward.

Jack took a deep breath and dove headfirst into the mess of plants. His hair and clothes became covered in the green and brown leaves, and he pushed his way through what felt like an impenetrable wall. His flailing, however, lasted only a few seconds. He suddenly broke free and found himself outside on the back patio. A starry night shone above them and a soft breeze wafted passed his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of wonderment as the molding air was replaced by the fresh scent of a beautiful night. The only sound was the door behind him being shut and locked.

"This way," his grandfather commanded. He stepped passed him onto the stone pathway.

Jack looked over his shoulder and was startled to see the gateway was again concealed from all but the most knowledgeable seekers. Then he hurriedly caught up to his grandfather down the trail and toward the woods. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself when they passed through the tree line and the wondrous light above was blocked out. He stumbled over a few loose roots and rocks, and regretted not having a flashlight in hand. His relation, however, had no problem navigating the path and Jack had problems keeping up with him.

Jack was able to recognize when they reached the fork in the way, and he paused to see where his guide would take him. To his utter amazement beside the right path, recognizable from the pot holes littered along the route, there lay a new pathway veering off to the far right.

His grandfather proceeded down this path and Jack cautiously followed through the shrouded gloom. He wasn't sure how far they had traveled before he noticed a stream of light ahead which punctured through the heavy canopy. He had almost forgotten why he was traveling with his grandfather, but the clearing reminded him of the treasure which might lay at the circled point.

Jack's disappointment was bitterly received when they broke into the small, circular clearing and nothing spectacular awaited his eyes. Old rotten stumps littered the ground around the center as the stone path stopped a few feet inside the perimeter. A simple wooden bench stood off to one side, half rotted and crumbling under its own weight. There was also some sort of round, wooden seat to the right raised about a foot above the ground by stones set in some primitive concrete. The top was crossed with heavy slabs of wood and those were nailed together with large pieces of iron metal. Whatever it was, it wasn't going anywhere.

"Sit there," grandfather instructed, and he absently waved his hand toward the crumbling bench. He himself remained standing.

"Is this it?" Jack wondered aloud, and he didn't bother to hide his disappointment. "What's so important about this place?"

"Be seated and I will show you," his relation again commanded, but in a firmer tone.

Jack scowled but he walked over and cautiously nudged the bench. The wood easily swayed beneath his prodding, but he carefully seated himself. His body was tense as he prepared for the imminent collapse.

"What do you see?" his grandfather asked when he was settled on his shaky seat.

"I don't know," he vaguely replied, and he shrugged his shoulders . He half-heartedly looked to his left and right. The night was too dark to see much more than a few yards in front of him. "There's some trees, this rotten bench, some bushes and some other stuff," he finished, and he absently waved his hand at the objects.

"But what do you see?" his grandfather repeated his question.

"I just told you," Jack scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was not liking this game his grandfather was playing with him. "There's just a bunch of trees and stuff."

"Then you see nothing," his grandfather dryly commented. He looked to his grandson with a disappointed expression.

"I guess not," Jack shot back. The bench shook a little at his movement and he quickly clutched the seat with both hands to steady it. "If this game's all there is to this place, I wish I hadn't asked you to bring me here."

"Quiet," was the blunt reply, and his grandfather slowly paced around the bench. Jack scowled while he clung to his seat. He imagined he looked ridiculous right now. "You see nothing because you are distracted," his relation vaguely explained and he stopped in front of the seat. "Focus."

"Not when this bench is about to fall apart underneath me," Jack complained.

"Then let's fix that."

Jack let out a small yelp when his grandfather suddenly kicked the bench supports with his boot. The wood snapped and the bench toppled backward with the young boy astride. His back fell hard against the ground and the wind was knocked from his lungs. His head bounced off the hard dirt with a soft thump and he clutched the cranium.

"What the hell!" he snapped as he raised himself to his knees. He looked up through the pounding pain and scowled at his grandfather. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Because the bench was distracting you," was the unwelcome response as his relation stood over him. "Now tell me what you see."

"I see a really big jerk," Jack commented. He struggled to disengage his legs from the broken bench. "Who really needs to watch where we go," he pointed out as his eyes looked past the imposing figure. "You led us by some poison ivy," he informed the gentleman, and he nodded toward the dangerous plant situated not far from the path.

"Good," was the unexpected reply.

"Why is that good?" his grandson countered. Did he like being insulted and leading them past itchy weeds? "Did you really hear what I said?" he asked, and he waved his hand toward the plant. "Poison ivy is not good."

"Do you understand your words?" his grandfather questioned. The puzzled expression from his grandson led to an exasperated sigh. "Look around again."

Jack rolled his eyes but gave the clearing a more careful pass. His mouth slowly dropped open when details which had been hidden suddenly jumped out with crystal clarity.

Trees covered in darkness shifted into focus as bark stretched out from the shadows with rough, detailed surfaces. Leaves grew veins and pulsed above them while branches stretched and twisted as their tiny growths appeared. Roots pushed up from the ground and jutted out at the bases of bushes as green moss glowed against the dead leaves and bark.

The sky was not so dark now as the lights from the stars filtered down to the ground and illuminated the dirt and stone path they had taken. The wood of the broken bench jutted out from the cracked base of the legs and Jack scrambled to move his legs away from their merciless splinters. Jack turned to his grandfather and he jerked away when he glimpsed a changed figure.

The tall, imposing form encased in shadows was pulled back and for the first time Jack felt he was glimpsing his relation's true figure. The pale skin beneath the dark clothing was vibrant against the night shadows. Where once stood an old man Jack now saw a shocking youthfulness hidden beneath a masquerade of infirmity.

"What do you see?" his grandfather asked again, but this time there was a small smile on his lips.

"Wow," Jack breathed. He couldn't believe his eyes, this had to be some sort of trick. "How?" was all he could manage.

"Focus," was the plain reply. Jack hardly believed only focus could show him such a bright world in a dark place, but he didn't have time for more questioning. "That is enough demonstration for tonight," his grandfather announced, and he promptly stepped back onto the stone path. He looked over his shoulder toward his grandson. "Perhaps another night," he hinted, and then he walked down the trail.

"Wait!" Jack protested as he scrambled to his feet.

With his concentration broken the world, once vibrant, was again enveloped in darkness. Jack had a hard time catching up to him this time as they flitted between the trees like two dark ghosts.

"Try to keep up," his grandfather's voice echoed along the forest path.

"What the hell..." Jack gasped when his elder began to pull away from him.

If he meant for this race to be fun, it wasn't. They darted over roots and rocks scattered over the dense path. Trees flew by and bushes failed to catch them as the two figures raced one another. The one in the lead stayed ahead and the follower in a mad panic tried not to be left behind.

Jack had never ran so fast in his life as his breath came out in gasps as his grandfather kept gaining ground. His heart pounded in rhythm with his feet as he felt something surge through his veins. He pushed himself to go faster and his feet stamped the ground. They broke through the tree line and out into the field. The inviting lights of the inn were a ways off, but at their speed Jack felt as if they were flying across the yard toward the patio.

He had nearly reached the patio where his grandfather stood at the open secret door when something inside him suddenly gave out.

Jack gasped. His feet stumbled and he fell onto his side against the stone patio. He cried out in pain when the sharp points dug into his ribs and arm as he clutched at his thumping heart. Something was horribly wrong. His breathing came out in strained rasps and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He could barely notice as a shadow fell across him and soon his grandfather was kneeling at his side. His cool hand was on his shoulder as his other tried to pry Jack's own grasping hand from his coat. He jerked back when his elder finally managed to hold his hand over his heart and feel for a moment the panicked rhythm.

"Jack, you must calm you heart beat," he suddenly whispered.

That was easy for him to say. The young man felt like his heart would pulse right out of his chest. Jack's eyes widened for a moment when he was easily lifted into his grandfather's arms. He struggled as he was carried through the old, vine-encased doors.

"I'm...I'm fine," he protested.

"Now is not the time for foolhardy courage," his grandfather commanded, and he suddenly turned a sharp right toward the wall.

Jack watched in stunned fascination as his elder reached up and pressed a narrow panel along the wall. A small passage revealed itself as a part of the wall slowly slid to one side. His grandfather carried him up the narrow, short flight of stairs which encompassed the hidden room and soon they stepped out onto the second floor. The part of the hall they were on was at the opposite end from his bedroom, but he could see his door as they moved out of the narrow nook at the end of the passage.

The two companions swiftly traveled down the hall and moved into his bedroom. Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he was lowered onto his bed and he leaned back against the headboard. His grandfather then closed the door behind them and stepped over to the bed. He reached into his coat and pulled forth a vial of the medicine Jack had taken several days before.

"I thought you said it was just a dream," Jack countered through clenched teeth.

"Perhaps this is a dream, too," his grandfather replied, and he held out the glass. "If so, what harm can be done by drinking more?"

Jack looked between his grandfather's calm face and the vile filled with the strange, thick substance. He reached up with a shaking hand and took the container in hand. He closed his eyes and downed the entire contents. He gagged from the awful texture and taste while the stuff slid down his throat. His grandfather took the vial back and a fit of fatigue suddenly passed over his mind.

"What...what's in that stuff?" he choked out. He was losing sense of where he was and his eyes fell shut against his will.

"Countless ages," Jack heard his grandfather explain. A cool hand brush aside wild strands of hair from his forehead. "Perhaps this lesson was too soon."

Whatever reply Jack could have made was silenced by a long sleep. However, his waking came all too early for him.

"Jack, you're getting really bad about this," he heard his mother gently scold.

"Hunh?" he groggily murmured as he blinked opened his eyes. He was tightly wrapped in his bed sheets with yesterday's clothes still on and his mother standing over him. Her arms were crossed and her head was at an angle as she looked down at him..

"This is the second time in a week I've had trouble waking you," she commented, and she shook her head. She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "What am I going to do with you?" she questioned.

"You just startled me from a dream," Jack grumbled, and he looked around the room. He didn't remember getting ready for bed. "What time is it?"

"It's almost ten," his mom informed. She put her hands on his shoulders to keep him from rising. "And I want you to stay in bed," she ordered. He lightly struggled against her grip with a scowl on his face.

"Hunh?" he replied. First she was concerned about him not getting up, now she wouldn't let him.

"After seeing that horrible face, I changed my mind," she explained. "And no arguments," she firmly commanded, and she pushed him back down onto the pillows.

"I don't feel that bad," he protested while he leaned forward. "Really."

"You're not healthy if it takes me more than a minute to wake you up," she pointed out as she straightened herself. "Now are you hungry? I have some leftover sausage from breakfast."

"A little," he admitted with a shrug, and he rubbed his eyes. The light was a little too bright. "But I think I'll read a book or something."

Jack expected his mom to give him a lecture about eating right and not staying up so late, so he was surprised when she sighed and crossed her arms. Her eyes grew misty and she shook her head.

"I'm...I'm really sorry for all this," his mom apologized to him. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"For all what?" Jack asked as he lowered his arm. This was out of the blue.

"I would've reconsidered this move if I knew it would make you so miserable," she explained, and she cast a long, mournful glance over his pale face.

"It's okay, mom, really," Jack soothed as he gave her a smile. He really didn't want her to worry too much, it wasn't her fault. "I'll be fine, I promise. I'm just staying up too late."

"It's just so much, you know? Starting a new life, moving away from, well, him," she emphasized. "Maybe it's too much."

"He would have wanted us to do this," Jack replied as he tried to keep back his own tears. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve to hide the water even and he sniffled. "And he would've loved living here."

"I know, but still..." she drifted off. She sighed and her head turned toward the door. "But I guess you're right," she agreed. She stood to her feet and gave turned to give him a nod. "We have to make this a good life."

"Yep," Jack joined in as he flashed her a grin.

"And you have to get some rest so you can get better," his mom added. She gleefully pushed him back down and pulled the covers over his head.

"Hey!" he protested while he clawed his way out.

"I'll be right back with some food," his mom warned him. She escaped his revenge and left the room.

Jack rolled his eyes and slowly fell back onto the bed covers. His eyes looked up at the canopy as his hand reached up to touch the fabric of his nightshirt. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't remember putting on the clothes he now wore. Only the meeting with his grandfather came to mind. He winced against the memories of the pain in his chest.

Jack sat up and wondered about these images. He had excused the first fantastical incident as a dream, but now he felt he was being fooled twice. Last night's adventure had happened, he had experienced those things, and his grandfather was trying to make him doubt his own mind. He didn't understand why his relation was trying to do this and he suspected he couldn't stop him, but he wouldn't let him win. He was too stubborn to have anyone conquer over him, especially through these deceitful mind tricks. He just had to bide his time and collect his memories.

"And no more of that medicine," Jack promised. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

As promised, his mom returned a few minutes later with a tray of warm food which she eagerly placed on the nightstand. She watched over him to make sure every bite was eaten, and then left him to dress. When he was properly attired Jack dutifully ignored the tussled bed and instead wandered out into the hall. He met his mom in the lobby and a relieved smile crossed her lips when she saw him up and refreshed

"Well well, that was fast," she teased with a light laugh. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the bed was eating me alive," he countered with an embarrassed grin. "But a lot better," he added to sooth her worries. Jack was distracted by noise coming from kitchen and he looked past her to see the door was propped open. "What's going on?" he inquired.

"Repairs," his mother informed with a wink.

"Repairs?" he repeated. He hadn't realized anything was falling apart, though the east wing hadn't looked so great. "What are you fixing?"

"Well, more like renovations," she explained to him, and she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The kitchen needs to be overhauled if I'm going to make this place into any sort of restaurant, and it's much too dark in there. I don't want your grandfather sneaking up on me again."

"So you're only doing the kitchen?" he asked her.

"Then we start on the east wing," she announced. "I bet it's going to be a big job."

"Wait, what about it?" Jack hastily questioned. His vivid dream came to mind, but he was sure the images were only a mixture of memories distorted in his mind. It was probably a dump behind those doors.

"That part was boarded up a long time ago, so it probably needs some big time work," she explained to her son. "When Kyle comes here with those doors open, I'm sure you're going to have to drag him away from those entrances."

"Yeah, he's been dying to see inside there," Jack agreed.

"But anyway, that's not until after the town's celebration," his mom added. She looked him up and down. "Until then, how about you go sit out on the patio and soak up some sun?"

"Oh, I guess," he teased, and he shuffled toward the dining room.

"And don't come back till you're nice and brown!" she called after him.

Chapter 13

Panic: Rinse and Repeat

Jack rolled his eyes as he walked through the dining hall and out onto the back patio. He dusted off and seated himself in one of the rusty old chairs, and smiled when the light of the lazy fall sun fell upon him. He laughed when he imagined himself with a blanket tucked around his legs and waist to keep any bitter wind from aching his old muscles. He reached his hand up to shield his eyes and he gazed at the tall, frosted mountains beyond the far field. The trees bent and swayed against a light breeze which crept along the meadow grass, but died before it reached the patio.

Those few glances tired his eyes and he took off his glasses to place them on the table beside him. Jack closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the chair. A hint of a smile crossed his lips while he enjoyed the warmth of the sun without the offensive glare of the sun's rays.

Then the day suddenly chilled and he found his blessed heat had vanished.

Jack curiously opened his eyes and looked around. He nearly fell out of his chair when he realized his grandfather stood to his immediate right. Shadows from the canopy of vines lingered over his form. His elder wore his customary overcoat with the worn fedora, and he looked distinctly out of place against the bright, warm day.

"Tired?" he curtly questioned.

Jack scowled at his intruding relative, and he quickly stood to his feet. He had been perfectly comfortable relaxing his exhaustion to nothing before his grandfather's silent arrival.

"It's just my eyes," he replied, and he put his glasses back on. His vision wasn't too impaired without them, but they did have a slight tint built into their lens to help against the glare. "They're just bothering me."

"When you're in the sunlight?" his grandfather asked, and he stepped forward.

"Maybe," Jack elusively replied. He didn't feel like dispensing personal information to him.

"Try these," his relation suggested. He reached into his heavy coat and pulled forth a pair of glasses.

In his hand Jack's grandfather held a pair of glasses identical to his own heavily tinted lenses, though slightly smaller. Jack didn't like the similarities.

"I'm fine with what I've got," he insisted. He looked between the offered object and his grandfather's impassive face. "Besides, those really aren't made for me," he pointed out, and he adjusted his prescription glasses.

"But they are," his grandfather carefully countered as he held them out in the palm of his hand. His strange half grin crept across his face. "Especially for you."

Jack felt the conversation, though short, had gone on long enough. Perhaps if he merely humored his strange relation he would be able to get rid of him faster. Besides, what harm could come from trying on a pair of glasses?

Jack carefully took the offered pair from his grandfather's pale hand and removed his prescription glasses. The cool metal in his hands felt heavy while he examined their wide frames and impenetrable lenses. They were innocent looking enough, and he placed them over his eyes.

The metal felt snug around his head and the world was awash in a darker tone. The material felt strange wrapping itself around his eyes so completely, and he had to resist the instinct to pull at them to give himself air between the metal and his face. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision to the darkness and then turned his gaze to the lawn. The hues of the grass and sky were blunted by the thick lenses, and he squinted out of reflex to look through the darker horizon. The world appeared more dull to his mind, but his eyes felt more at ease against the glare of the sun.

"Kinda dark," he commented as he adjusted one rim.

"The world generally is," his grandfather depressingly replied as he carefully watched his grandson.

Jack cast a glance at his grandfather before he returned to the horizon to gather more experience with the glasses. He could see the dense forest rising from the dark shadows and the looming mountains beyond. The darkness stretched out its thin tendrils and tapped at the light from the sun as if feeling its borders.

Jack jerked back when he suddenly realized the motion of the shadows was more than just a play on light and dark. He could feel a subtle but distinct shift in his eyes and the world changed from peaceful calm to almost chaotic. The high sun was fighting against the low shadows as each tested their distance by morphing and stretching into the other. Tendrils whipped back and forth while each gained and lost ground as the sun moved overhead. The dance only changed when trees and grass shifted against a gentle wind, or a cloud blocked or retreated from the day star.

His heart beat fast as he was unable to remove his gaze from the alliance of shadows. He backed up and collapsed back into the chair. His hands grasped the arms as much to keep from tipping over as to grasp something firm and real. They held him like a trance, beating against the bright opponent and retreating when defeat was certain. The arms thickened and thinned, almost seeming alive as they fought all around him. From the tallest tree to the thinnest blade of grass the two forces grappled, oblivious to anything else.

And then he felt as if the shadows had suddenly become interested in something else entirely. Himself.

Jack gasped as the shadows paused all around him as if they had sensed another, newer presence. Then to his horror the tendrils slowly, cautiously stretched and pulled in his direction. He felt paralyzed when even the smallest of shades moved toward him as one.

The tree shadows disobeyed the sun's direction as they leaned toward him. The innocent shades of the bushes slunk along the patio in an effort to grab at him. He felt the vines which covered the building behind him creep away from the wall for their own curiosity. They were closing in, suffocating the sunlight and brushing against his quivering body.

Jack cried out in a garbled mix of horror and frustration, and he tore off the glasses. They clattered to the ground and stopped at his grandfather's feet.

His breathing was ragged as he stared at the objects which only moments before had changed his bright world into a nightmare. Now they only sat there, innocently basking in the strong sun. Their shadows were domicile and they obeyed the laws nature had set forth.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing moved. Nothing tried to creep toward him.

"What the hell was that?" Jack's quivering voice asked.

"A darker world," his grandfather softly explained.

"That doesn't explain why the hell I can see that with them on," Jack insisted.

"Those glasses are made from a very rare type of metal unique to this area," his relation expanded. "The metal calls the darkness of this place to you."

Jack couldn't tell whether the glasses had made him see those horrible apparitions or if the entire episode had been another in a long line of questionable memories. Either way, the gift was anything but wanted. He wiped away the moisture and tried to give a firm smile, but the ends of his lips quivered. He stood to his feet and carefully stepped around his grandfather to catch at the lenses on the ground. He noticed the glass was unbroken.

"Take them back," Jack ordered as he held them out to his grandfather. His hand trembled, but his voice was steady. "They aren't for me."

"You two having fun?" his mom's voice suddenly interrupted. Jack jumped in the air and his head snapped toward the patio doors where his mom stood.

"Just talking," Jack hastily explained to her. He hid the glasses in his coat pocket. He had a feeling the lenses would get both his grandfather and him in trouble.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to try some soup I made," she explained. She walked up and playfully rapped him on the head. "It won't stay warm forever."

"Sure," Jack agreed. He avoided his grandfather and moved toward the door. His legs wobbled a bit as the stress showed itself, but he gave her a smile. "I think my legs fell asleep," he lied to his mother as he noticed her worried expression.

"You want some help getting inside?" she asked. She didn't quite believe his cover story.

"It's okay, just hungry," he insisted as he walked past her. "Teenage boys are always weak from hunger, remember?"

"They do tend to eat a lot," his mother agreed as she stepped aside to let him pass. He noticed she cast a glance at his grandfather, and the expression on her face wasn't friendly. "So I expect you to finish off the bowl before you raid the fridge," she commanded him.

"No problem," Jack proudly proclaimed as he looked over his shoulder. He realized she hadn't followed. "You coming?" he asked.

"In just a moment, I want to talk to your grandfather about something," she explained as she waved him away. "You go on ahead."

Jack, seeing no choice, left them alone to talk.

Several hours later found the young man seated beside the warm fire with the journal in hand. His mother had briefly spoken with his grandfather and had returned to enjoy lunch with him. His parent still insisted he roast himself beside the hot flames, and there he had sat for the last few hours, pondering the handwriting in the book. She had even forced him to wear his coat inside, in which still lay hidden the glasses. The early afternoon passed slowly while Jack had awaited his friend's arrival. He was almost looking forward to the distraction.

"Jack!" Kyle shouted as he burst into the lobby. Jack nearly had a heart attack at his friend's wild entrance, and he jerked up from his book. Kyle saw him and slowed to a stop when he got a better look at the other boy. "What happened to you? You look awful!" he bluntly asked.

"Thanks," Jack greeted his honest friend, and he closed his book. "I just got a little sick," he answered as he rubbed his tired eyes. "But what's all the rush about, anyway?" he inquired. He watched his companion put down his bag and hurriedly rummage through it.

"My teacher just told me the Association wants to use a summary of my essay for the opening speech!" he exclaimed in one breath. He pulled out books, papers and pencils. "And they want the final draft in a week!"

"Which association?" The way Kyle had phrased it, there was only one.

"The Association," Kyle emphasized. "You know, the historical one."

"Is it pretty big?" Jack wondered. Ms. Huxley hadn't made such a big deal out of it.

"Just the biggest one in town, and the oldest," he added. He stuck his entire head into the bag as he muttered about a tornado. "Everyone who's old enough can belong to it."

"Well, you said you had half of it done already," Jack pointed out. He wasn't sure what all the panic was about, they had time. "So what's the problem?"

"My teacher wants to read the final draft this Monday!" Kyle explained as he stuffed a pile of books into Jack's open arms. "That means I have only five days to finish the project and have the summary ready!"

"How about you finish the essay and I write the summary after I read the paper?" his friend suggested.

"Great, except for that first part," he countered as his face drooped.

"Why's that?" Jack dryly inquired. He didn't think his suggestion was that bad.

"I don't wanna write it."

"Tough," Jack replied. He stood and shoved the books into his companion's arms. Kyle juggled them for a moment before most of them clattered to the floor. "What else do you need to finish the paper?"

"Um, whatever my notes say," Kyle informed him. He looked at the fallen sheets of paper at his feet. "And they're somewhere in there."

"Let's get all this stuff to my room so we can dump it on the bed," he sighed, and he began snatching up the notes. He wondered if this is what a haggled parent felt like. He noticed the notes were full of rambling ideas and doodles. "Maybe then we can get this mess sorted out."

Just then noise erupted from the kitchen and they both turned to look through the open entrance to see a few workmen tearing apart the island.

"Your mom demolishing the place?" Kyle wondered as he craned his neck toward the door.

"Just renovating," Jack informed the curious boy. He grabbed his friend's shoulder and dragged him back. "And you need to focus." He gathered up the research documents and tried to stuff them back in the bag, but they wouldn't fit. "Of course," he muttered as he picked up a pile of books.

"So how much stuff is your mom gonna change?" Kyle asked his host. He shouldered his bag and followed his friend upstairs.

"Just the kitchen for now, but she wants to look through the east wing," Jack replied. They reached his room and he fumbled for the knob.

"That'd be cool to watch it be opened," his companion replied in awe. The boys literally dropped the project onto the messy bed covers and began sorting the items. "Think she'll let me watch?"

"Depends on if you're at school or not," Jack informed. Ts they piled books on the floor and stuffed the papers together. He scowled as his coat got in the way and he flung the jacket onto the foot of the bed. "She's probably gonna have them do it during the morning sometime before the party."

"What are those?" Kyle suddenly asked. H stooped down to pick up an object lying on the floor. Jack froze when he realized his friend held the glasses. "These look like the ones your grandpa wears," he commented.

"They're my extra pair," Jack lied as he snatched them from his hand.

"Hey!" Kyle complained. "I wasn't going to hurt them," he promised, and he tried to get another look at the pair.

"Well, you didn't ask to see them," Jack countered while he held them behind his back.

"Well, can I see them now?" Kyle inquired. He made another own attempt at regaining control over the item.

"No," his host rejected. Jack stretched out his arm high above his head with the lenses dangling from the end of his fingertips.

"Come on, I won't hurt them," Kyle pleaded. He tried to grab them by pathetically jumping up a few inches. He gave up after a few more jumps. "Can you at least tell me how you stole your grandpa's glasses?" he asked. Jack opened his mouth, but his friend only shook his head. "No way you'd have an identical pair."

"Fine, he gave them to me," Jack revealed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was beyond annoying. "Why does that matter?"

"Can you use them?" his companion quietly asked.

"What do you mean?" Jack blurted out. The question startled him for its simplicity and pinpoint accuracy. "They're just plain old glasses," he protested.

"Nothing from your grandpa is plain, but definitely old," Kyle commented as he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jack, I know there's gotta be something special about these ones. What happens when you put them on?"

"They're just..." he trailed off. He realized how stupid his lying mantra was sounding. These weren't ordinary glasses, and Kyle was just standing there willing to believe practically anything he would say. There wasn't any point in lying. "They're...they show me shadows," he admitted as his shoulders slumped. He felt a weight lift from them because he had someone to talk to about these oddities. "I put them on this morning, and the shadows came at me."

"How?" his confused friend questioned. Kyle couldn't imagine shadows just attacking someone.

"I was standing on the patio, and suddenly I could see them battling with the sun," Jack slowly explained. This wasn't easy. "They were like octopus arms trying to blot out the sun, and then they suddenly noticed me looking at them." Here he paused and shivered when he recalled those sightless creatures staring at him. "Then they began to slink toward me and I flung off the glasses before those arms touched me."

"Wow," Kyle let out a low whistle as he looked at the innocent glasses. He paused for a moment and he glanced up at his friend. "Can I try them on?"

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Jack protested as he threw his arms up in the air. "Did I stutter or something?" he dramatically questioned.

"Well, not too much," his friend teased, but then his face turned serious. "And yes, I do believe what you just told me."

"Then why do you want to try them on?" his host pressed. He felt like he was talking to a maniac intent on committing suicide. "What if you don't get them off in time?"

"Well, I don't think I'm going to see anything," Kyle bluntly informed as he crossed his arms. "But the only way to prove it is to let me try them on."

"Fine, get yourself killed," Jack encouraged the younger boy. He shoved them into his companion's arms. "Just don't blame me when something bad happens."

"Nothing's going to happen," his friend repeated as he carefully wrapped them around his eyes. "Wow, these are really dark," he commented, and his head swiveled around the room. "You sure you can see anything through these things?" His glance stopped at the windows and he jerked back in surprise. "Whoa!"

"What?" Jack excitedly demanded. His heart stopped and his head whipped this way and that. He could only imagine the terrifying shadows as they began their slow crawl toward them. "What is it?"

"It looks like night outside!" his friend explained as he pointed at the darkening windows.

"That's because it is getting darker," his host dryly informed. He managed to grab the glasses from his young guest.

"Hey, I wasn't done with them!" Kyle objected as he fruitlessly tried to reclaim his treasure.

"I think I need to cut you off," Jack joked with him. He walked over to the desk and put them in the drawer with the comic books. "This weirdness is getting to you more than me."

"Speaking of weirdness, and to keep with the glasses bit, you ever read any horror stories or watch any scary movies?" Kyle mused. "You know, just for fun?"

"Not much," his host replied with a shrug. He didn't like where this was going. "My mom never really did, so I didn't," he explained.

"But you know about vampires, right?" his friend insisted.

"Yeah, I guess," Jack admitted as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. They were definitely traveling down a bad road. "Doesn't everybody?"

"I have a crazy suggestion," Kyle explained, and he defensively held up his hands. "But you promise not to bite my head off?"

"I think right now you're not using it," Jack joked, but his friend didn't find the allusion too funny. He sighed and nodded his head. "Fine, I won't freak out," he swore.

"I'll put forth the facts before I present my hypothesis," his friend suggested as he began pacing the floor. "First, your health wasn't all that bad before you came here, am I right?"

"Mostly," his host admitted with a shrug. "Just some mild headaches and stuff like that."

"Second, you know next to nothing about your creepy grandpa, correct?"

"Correct."

"Third, your symptoms did not present themselves until he started showing a marked interest in you, right?"

"You've read too many crime novels."

"Answer the question, please."

"Yeah, it all started at the same time, but that doesn't prove anything."

"And your grandpa is unusually creepy, even for an old man, am I right?"

"Now you're just being weird."

"You're not cooperating very well," Kyle sulked. He stopped his pacing and tapped his foot on the floor.

"You're not making much sense," Jack countered with a hint of anger in his tone. "You've proven nothing except you've read too many stories and have an active imagination."

"Don't you see that there's a connection here?" his friend argued in a hurt and frustrated tone. "Don't you see what your grandpa is?"

Jack raised a brow at his companion's meaning, and then his mouth slowly dropped open. He couldn't believe the young boy was considering the idea.

"Are you trying to tell me my grandfather is a vampire?" he slowly questioned.

"Finally!" Kyle exclaimed as he threw up his arms in exhausted victory. "Geez, you're really kinda slow," he commented in a disappointed voice.

"You need help, a lot of it," Jack suggested as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The kind of help he wasn't qualified to give. "What you're suggesting is my grandfather's a vampire, and he's slowly trying to kill me."

"Yeah, pretty much," his friend replied in all seriousness.

"You do realize that would make me part vampire, right?" he pointed out. "And I think I would know if I were a vampire."

"Well, um, what if he's not really your grandpa?" Kyle suggested. There was a hint of desperation in his voice, and Jack rolled his eyes. "What? It's possible," he argued as he scowled.

"My mom probably would have mentioned being adopted," Jack countered, and then a thoughtful expression spread across his face. "Besides, can vampires even have kids?" he inquired aloud, more to himself than to his companion.

"They always do in fanfiction," his friend half-joked, and he flashed a goofy grin.

"What's fanfiction?" Jack asked, but immediately regretted his words. He held up one of his hands to silence Kyle. "On second thought, I don't wanna know. Whatever it is I think you've had way too much of that lately," his host pointed out, and then he looked at his watch. The hands showed the time to be half past two. He still had several hours left with his crazy friend. "That stuff makes me glad I don't have the internet right now," he contemplated as he gestured toward the bed. "But we'd better get some of this essay done."

"I'm going to make you believe me even if I have to turn into a vampire myself," Kyle promised.

"According to your own theory, I'll be undead before you," Jack pointed out as he wandered over to the papers.

"A strange conversation for young people."

Kyle let out a tiny shriek and Jack swung around to find his grandfather standing in the doorway. Jack's relation held a slight frown on his face and his glasses turned from one boy to the other. Jack's heart thumped wildly as Kyle picked himself up off the floor.

"H-hi, Mr. P.," Kyle greeted as his rallied his composure returned. Jack half-wondered if his friend remembered the rest of his grandfather's last name. "You're pretty good at coming out of nowhere."

"So I've been told," was the offhand reply.

"Did you need something, grandpa?" Jack impatiently inquired. He wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible to get him out of here. "We were kinda in the middle of something."

"Nothing at this moment," he blandly answered. "But I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"It wasn't anything-" Jack began.

"We were talking about vampires, Mr. P.," Kyle interrupted. He was scrutinizing the older gentleman's expression. "Do you know anything about them?" Jack inwardly groaned at his friend's lack of subtly.

"Stories for children are best left to them," he commented while his unusual half grin danced across his lips. He glanced over their faces, and each boy shivered in his turn. He had the uncanny ability of unsettling even the most confident person. "But if you will excuse me," he apologized to them. He bowed and left them alone.

"Like I said, weird," Kyle mumbled to him as the elder gentleman rounded the corner out of their sight. "Nobody sneaks up like that without having some sort of supernatural powers."

"Maybe he's just had a lot of practice," Jack defended, but he was left with an uneasy feeling. His grandfather's appearance felt as though he was giving him a warning about the topic they'd been discussing. "He is pretty old."

"How old is your grandpa?" his friend inquired as he sat down on the bed.

"I don't know, fifty-five? Sixty?" Jack guessed with a shrug. Jack hadn't heard from his mom about his grandfather's age, and right now he wasn't too interested. "You'd have to ask my mom," he recommended.

"He looks older than that," Kyle pondered with a scowl. "But his hair is still pretty dark, like yours," he commented, and he glanced at his friend's locks. "You guys do look a lot alike."

"I guess," Jack halfheartedly agreed. His young guest's questions and comments were wearing him down. "Can we get this paper done now?"

"Not until I get some more answers," his friend demanded. "You've been acting strange all morning. What's bothering you?" he pointed out.

"It's nothing, just bad dreams," he lied.

"Yeah, and your grandpa is a normal guy," Kyle retorted. "You're a terrible liar, Jack, so 'fess up. What's wrong?"

"You're not gonna leave me alone unless I tell you, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine," Jack gave in, and he sat down on the bed. He would make this as brief as possible to make it less painful. "To make a long story short, I had my grandpa take me out to that path we couldn't find last night, and he...he showed me something."

"The treasure?" Kyle eagerly questioned, but his mood was dampened when he noticed Jack's serious expression. "I'm guessing it was more of him being creepy."

"Mostly," his host replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "He led me down a third trail we didn't see and to this open spot in the trees. Then I had to sit down on this bench while he kept telling me I didn't see the trail before because I didn't know how to focus."

"And did he show you?" his friend quietly asked.

"He showed me something," Jack explained. He frowned as he sought out the words to describe what he'd seen. "It was kinda like someone switched on a light at night. I could see a lot more details and everything looked brighter, but it was like it wasn't brighter."

"Night vision," Kyle murmured, but he pressed him to continue.

"Then he suddenly said we had to go back, and we raced back to the inn," he narrated. His friend showed no sign of surprise at his running with his elderly relation. His voice weakened as he clutched at his heart. "Then I had this...this panic attack or something."

"Or something?" his companion repeated.

"It...it just felt like my heart was trying to beat out of my chest, I guess like I was having a heart attack," Jack explained. He didn't want to remember it, but being able to tell someone the story pulled a weight off his shoulders. He was free of the secrecy and the loneliness that went with it. "I don't remember much after that except him carrying me up through the east wing and up these hidden stairs to the hall."

There was an awkward pause as his tale ended and his friend computed what had been said. There were a lot of unanswered questions.

"So your grandpa knows how to get into the east wing from the outside?" Kyle slowly questioned.

"Yeah, and he has a key to the lock on one of the doors," Jack added. "That's how we got in there."

"And there's a secret staircase leading from the second floor to the east wing?" his guest inquired.

"Yeah, it's at the other end of the building," he explained, and he absently waved at the door leading out into the passage.

"You know what this means, right?" Kyle carefully asked.

"That we're both going to go downstairs and tell my mom all about this?" Jack suggested. He was dead serious. His mom would might not believe them at first, but he could probably convince her.

"Well, there's that idea," Kyle agreed as he barely restrained an overflowing of enthusiasm. He leaned in and his eyes flashed with excitement. "But best of all, it means that I'm right!" his companion gleefully yelled out. He straightened up and pumped his fist in the air. Jack watched the display of triumph with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief. "Your grandpa can race a kid our age to the inn, and he sneaks up on us like he's a ghost when he's solid," he listed off with his fingers. "All that's proof that he is a vampire!" Jack was nearly knocked over as his friend slapped him on the shoulder. "Congrats on the relationship!"

"You need to get your head looked at," he argued while he rubbed his shoulder. "And if you sound like that to my mom she's never gonna believe us."

"Wait, wait," Kyle insisted as he held up his hands. "You're trying to tell me we need to spill the beans to your mom?"

"Yeah, she'll believe us," Jack insisted.

"Um, no, she's not," Kyle suggested as he began to rummage through his bag. "The one thing I've learned about is people look at you kinda funny if you just start accusing others of being monsters."

"You've done that before, haven't you?" his friend asked.

"Well, maybe just about the assistant librarian, but I swear there's something wrong with that guy," Kyle muttered. "He's way too much of a dick not to be a monster."

"Are you serious?" Jack wondered.

"As serious as you wanting to tell your mom," Kyle pointed out. There was a serious frown on his face as he looked up. "You really think she's gonna believe what you have to say about some guy you just met?"

"We could probably show my mom that staircase right now," he shot back. "That'd be enough evidence."

"Really?" Kyle asked. "You think showing her something like that is gonna prove that your grandpa is trying to kill you?"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Jack argued. He waved his arms around the room. "Just let me stay in here and have him what? Kill me?"

"We could go tackle some of those secrets in the east wing to find some more proof," Kyle challenged. "I bet he's hidden some bodies over there and the minute we find them, that'd be enough proof for anybody. Besides," he added as he dug into his backpack again. "I think if he'd wanted to kill you, he would've done that a while ago. He really doesn't seem the type of monster to deal with kids for long unless he was gonna do something other than kill them."

"How about we don't go in there, and say that we don't?" Jack insisted. He nodded toward the pile of paperwork. "How about instead we tackle this project?"

Kyle paused and looked up from his bag. He frowned as he glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

"You're right," he agreed, and Jack sighed in relief. "We'll have to do it some other time when we know he's distracted."

"Yeah, some other time," Jack sarcastically replied. Maybe right after hell froze over. "But for now, let's get this finished."

Nothing more was said about the subject as they scrounged through the books and notes for interesting tidbits. Jack had a chance to look at Kyle's handwritten essay and cringed at the lack of proper grammar and spelling errors. He assigned Kyle the duty of finding more information while he got to work fixing the paper. When the clock showed four they had progressed farther than they expected.

"My brain is fried," Kyle whined as his head dropped back. He hung his tongue out of his mouth and his eyes rolled back.

"And it's getting kinda late," Jack commented as he glanced out the window. The sun was beginning the journey below the high mountains. "May as well just put all this stuff on the desk," he suggested, and then he frowned. "You'll probably be back tomorrow."

"As early as I can escape from that prison of a school," his friend promised as he dumped the books and papers on the top. He paused for a moment, his back to his companion, before he looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?" his host replied as he looked around for any loose notes.

"You ever have very many friends?"

"Not really," Jack admitted with an indifferent shrug. "Being home-schooled meant I didn't go to school, but my mom did have me do some sports and go on some trips with other home-schooled kids."

"I know you're gonna find this pretty unbelievable, but a lot of people think I'm weird," Kyle revealed.

"Yeah, who would think that?" he playfully shot back.

"Actually, other than you and Amanda, I don't really hang out with anyone else."

"Kyle, where's this going?" Jack felt there was some deeper meaning to this strange and sudden conversation.

"I was wanting you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll be okay," Kyle softly pleaded.

"I'm not really planning on doing anything stupid enough to get me killed," Jack countered. His teasing smile dropped off his face when he noticed Kyle's serious expression. "You really think something's gonna happen to me?"

"Seriously, just promise me," he insisted as he turned around. "If you're not in any danger, this shouldn't be that hard."

"Life doesn't really work that way," Jack explained. He shook his head and took a deep breathe. "I know what I'll do," he decided. "I'll promise that whatever happens, I'll stick around. Deal?"

"Even if you're a member of the undead?" Kyle questioned.

"Even if I'm a member of the undead," he repeated. He had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Besides," he pondered as he took a menacing step toward him, "wouldn't you want to join me in an eternity of damnation?"

"Nah, vampires aren't my thing," he seriously replied, and he rubbed his chin.

"Jack? Kyle?" they heard Jack's mom call to them. "You'd better finish up soon so Kyle can get home."

"We're just doing that, mom," Jack called back, and they dumped the rest of the documents on the desk.

Kyle slung his light bag over his shoulder and gave Jack a wink.

"You and me, Jack," he commented as he showed off a toothy grin. "We'll make one hell of a team."

Chapter 14

Celebrating the Times

The days repeated themselves while the project came nearer to completion and the deadline loomed. The night before the due date both boys were working frantically, one on the main essay and the other on the summary to be presented to the town. They were well-supplied with snacks and soda from Mrs. Erikson as Sunday night came upon them.

Jack's mom was happy as she watched her son pour over pages. His friend and he bickered and agreed over the project parts. His health had improved drastically over the last few days and his pallor had completely disappeared, leaving him with his old self. She wiped some of the dirt from her face as she left them to finish the final cleaning of the kitchen.

The workmen had left yesterday afternoon, having finished their work, and would return later in the week to break open the east wing. Kyle wasn't as disappointed as they expected when he found out he wouldn't be able to be there for the exhumation. She'd promised him pictures and the right to be the first local inside the dusty rooms in over twenty years. Jack wondered why his friend had taken the news so lightly, but he figured Kyle wouldn't tell him why until he felt the time was right. That, or when it was the worst possible time.

"Aaaannddd done!" Kyle cried out as he finished the last line of the essay. He closed the assignment by writing his John Hancock at the bottom of the page. "Need this last page, Jack?" he asked as he waved the paper up.

"Yep," his cohort replied. Jack looked through the rest of the pages to sum up the speech. With the last page in his possession he pondered the final sentence for a moment before wrapping up the ideas. "You wanna read it?" he invited his friend as he looked at the single paper. He'd managed to condense the full version of five pages into one.

"Sure," Kyle agreed, and he glanced over the few paragraphs. "Not bad, not bad," he complimented. A mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. "This is definitely gonna get us a B."

"Tough teacher," Jack played along. "Not even a chance of an A?"

"If I bribed him with enough money, he might consider it," his friend informed him. He carefully put the essay and summary in his bag. He paused for a moment and glanced at all the books and spent paper around them. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Now what are we gonna do?" he asked Jack.

"Anything we want," he replied with a shrug. "Well, until you get a new project you want me to help with." His friend's downcast expression confused him. "You're not hoping for another paper, are you?"

"Hell no," Kyle quickly shot back, and he stuck out his tongue. "It's just that I don't know what I'm going to be coming up here for anymore." Jack frowned, and Kyle held up his hands defensively. "That came out wrong, I swear."

"Sure it did," Jack teasingly replied, but he still wasn't entirely convinced by that reason.

"I meant my mom might not let me up here as often," he explained as he gave a sheepish grin. He started stuffing the books and papers into his backpack. "I've been skipping a lot of chores to get up here."

"Then I guess we'd better hope for another project," his friend grinned as he stretched his arms. "But right now I'm just glad it's done. Now maybe I can get my eyes straightened after reading all those books."

"Yeah, and they didn't even have that many pictures," Kyle added, and he scowled at the last tome in his hand. Jack wasn't sure if he was being serious or joking. "But I'll come around tomorrow after school to tell you what Mr. Fuller thought about it," he promised as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

"I'll be sure not to hold my breath," Jack replied.

They gave their farewells and Kyle left before the night overtook him on his ride home. Jack joined his mother for dinner and the topic inevitably settled upon the founding celebration scheduled for the coming Saturday. He could tell she was nervous about the whole affair when she told him about the call she'd placed to Ms. Huxley earlier that day. His mom wouldn't have gone to the trouble of interrupting the Association's preparations if she wasn't worried about what part they would play. She'd managed to get the entire itinerary from Ms. Huxley, including what was expected from them during the opening ceremony. The Founding Celebration would have an introduction with Jack's summary and then the crowd would be allowed to disperse to enjoy the many vendors who had signed up for booths.

"Most of the setup for the ceremony and vendors will take place Friday afternoon, and I volunteered both of us to help," she announced.

"Help how?" Jack cringed as he picked at his spaghetti. He'd been preoccupied thinking of any mistakes he might have made in the speech paper, but now his mother had his undivided attention. He really wasn't sure how useful he'd be. "Like with cooking or something?" Images of burning buildings and people screaming and running in terror came to mind with him standing in the middle holding a spatula in hand.

"That all happens at everyone's homes," she assured as she laughed at his nervous face. "You look like a frightened gopher," she teased.

"Then I feel like digging myself a hole to hide in," he drooped.

"This'll be fun," his mother encouraged. "We're only going to help move some things and set up the tents for the vendors. I doubt it'll be that technical." Here she leaned in with a grin on her face. "And there might be some cute girls there."

"That sounds bad coming from you, mom," Jack pointed out as he cringed.

"That's what I'm here for," she laughed, and she began to pick up the plates. "To make sure you die of embarrassment."

"I thought parents were supposed to give their kids a good childhood," he shot back as he wolfed down the rest of his meal. "Not to traumatize them as much as possible."

"Have kids," she invited as she paused to look over her shoulder. There was a wicked smile on her face. "You'll know this is only revenge for all the trouble they cause you."

"Me?" he faked shock as he set his dirty plate by the sink. "Well, two can play at this game," he challenged.

"Come back here and wash your plate!" his mom called after him as he escaped the room.

"Night, mom!" he yelled back. The door shut behind him and he took the stairs two at a time.

The next day Jack tried studying the old journal, but his mind kept wandering to the project. Much as it wasn't really his project, he felt a certain amount of pride in the finished product. If the summary was accepted, this would be his first outing in a public performance. He nervousness was compounded by the whole close-knit community being present for the speech, and they would be the harshest critics.

The minutes ticked by as afternoon replaced morning and he found himself in the lobby seated on the bench. His eyes looked outside for his friend to arrive with news from the classroom front, and his mom looked on with a mixture of amusement and worry. She was glad he'd invested so much effort into one project, but there was always the fear of seeing the look of failure on his face.

Parent and child were both on edge when the clock chimed three and Kyle's head finally appeared up the drive. He was biking as fast as his legs would pump and Jack met him at the door.

"He...he liked it!" Kyle announced to them. He zipped open his bag and handed Jack the essay. A large A was stamped on the front. "He said...he could tell...where you helped," he added with a grin. "He'll get the final okay...from Ms. Huxley about the summary, but he thought you really hit all the good points."

"That's great, you two!" Mrs. Erikson complimented as she came up behind Jack. She placed a hand on her son's shoulder and gave a soft shake. "I'm sure Ms. Huxley will think it's great, Jack," she encouraged.

"Probably," Kyle agreed. His face was beaming with pride at the essay, though. "I am so gonna have that framed."

"So your children can see it?" Jack teased.

"So people a thousand years from now can read it and know my brilliance," he emphasized as he stuffed the paper back into his bag. "But until they worship my greatness, I gotta help out on the setup this Friday," he groaned. "Wish they were at least letting us out of school early," he grumbled.

"I guess we'll see you there, then," Mrs. Erikson chimed in. "I promised Ms. Huxley we'd help."

"Misery does love company," he grumbled as he picked up his bike. "I'd stay longer, Jack, but my mom needs me to help her with the stuff at her booth."

"Sounds interesting, what's going to be in it?" Jack's mom inquired. If Kyle's family was as weird as his friend, Jack wondered if his mom wasn't playing with fire by asking about their booth.

"Some crafts my mom made, and my dad's bringing in samples from the orchards and fields he manages," Kyle explained.

"So your dad's in charge of one of the farms around here?" Mrs. Erikson asked. Jack hadn't heard anything about Kyle's family, other than he had numerous siblings and a long suffering mother.

"Yeah, he didn't want to work in an office so he got a job managing one of the big farms just outside of town," he expanded. They could hear the pride in his voice as a smirk crossed his lips. "He's going to try out some organic apples on anyone who comes to the booth."

"He hasn't poisoned them, has he?" Mrs. Erikson teased.

"Nah, they're just a little smaller and not so brightly colored," Kyle comforted as he waved away her fears. "We joke about them having happy worms since they're not sprayed." He straddled his bike and gave them a wide grin. "But I guess I'll meet you guys downtown Friday."

They parted with the promise and when Kyle had biked out of sight, Mrs. Erikson turned to her son.

"Sounds like you won't be the only boy there giving a hand Friday," she pointed out as she ruffled his hair. "Though you two better stay out of trouble."

"I'm not promising anything," Jack replied as they went inside.

The week passed uneventfully for the Erikson family. Jack could see what Kyle had feared as his friend's daily visits dwindled to nothing and he found himself alone for most of the day. After having someone to talk to so often, it was an unwelcome change. Friday arrived and Jack was actually grateful to prepare himself for a long afternoon of work with a chance to see his new acquaintances.

"Looks like a storm is coming," his mom mused as they drove down their private road. Looking in his own rearview mirror, Jack could see the large thunderhead clouds sitting over the mountains behind the inn. "But maybe it'll wait until after the celebration," she hoped, but her tone showed she wasn't too convinced.

"Yeah," he distractedly agreed as they entered the outskirts of the town.

They had only driven a few buildings down before a barrier in the road stood in their way and a helpful flagger directed them to park in the library parking lot a street down. Vehicles were barred from Main Street except those carrying supplies for the celebration and vendors.

There were very few parking places left as Mrs. Erikson navigated through the maze of cars in the small lot. She finally gave up after a few passes and found a spot along the busy street. People were walking to the next block or loitering amongst cars discussing the latest local events and rumors. Dead leaves crunched beneath the feet of children as they played in the park, watched over by chattering adults. The older kids followed their parents toward the main street with boxes of wares on their heads or tent poles beneath their arms. Friends and family stopped each other at their cars to admire the day or point out the looming clouds.

Jack followed his mom as they weaved their way through the mess of cars and people to Main Street, where an even greater commotion reigned. There people flitted about as they unloaded heavier wares from the backs of trucks. Tents rose, and sometimes fell, as every chalk-outlined spot along both sides of the short street were filled with booths where there was to be sold every treat and knickknack imaginable. Some were as small as marbles brightly painted with scenic pictures and others showed off the craftsmanship of local carpenters as they put the finishing shine on their wooden spice racks and wicker chairs. Many other tables remained empty as they awaited the pies, sweets and breads which were being baked in the many houses inside and outside the town.

The main show, however, was at the end of the street where a raised platform had been erected. A backdrop had been placed behind the stage and Jack could see Mr. Jenkins and Ms. Huxley setting up a sound system.

"This is definitely busier than I expected," his mother whispered to him as they wound their way through the throngs of people.

"Hey, Jack!" a voice called from the wilderness and the family was glad to see Kyle waving them over to a small booth. "Crowded, isn't it?" he asked as they walked up. "Even Ms. Huxley didn't expect this many people to show up."

"I didn't even know there was this many people in the town," Mrs. Erikson commented as she looked at the crowds.

"A lot of them live outside the city limits," he explained to them, and he shifted the table a little.

"It looks fine," Amanda chimed up. She appeared from behind the covered back wall. "Don't touch it anymore or I'm going to slap you."

"Yes, boss," he obeyed as he held up his hands.

"Is this your family's booth, Amanda?" Mrs. Erikson inquired. She noticed tubs of flour and sugar in front of the fabric wall.

"Yep, we're going to be baking stuff to sell. Some of the buyers like to see the food baked right in front of them or make special orders, so that's why we make some of the stuff at home and others right here," she proudly informed, and she glanced between the two boys. "My dad just got a call so he had to leave. Any chance you guys can help me move the stove into here?"

"Depends, how heavy is it?" Kyle squinted with a frown.

"Only a hundred pounds, it's just a gas one," she countered as she rolled her eyes. "I just need it underneath the tent in case it rains tonight."

"You boys help with that, I'll see what Ms. Huxley wants me to do," Mrs. Erikson suggested, and she forged on to the stage.

"Come on, it's at the car," Amanda ordered. She led them through the alley behind the booth and into the next street. A pickup was parked not far off where they could see the stove sitting in the bed. "You took can take that while I'll get the tank," she suggested as she opened the tailgate.

With more than a few grunts and groans the boys managed to get the stove out of the bed and down the alley. They hefted the appliance around the back of the tent and beneath the shelter of its roof. They set it with a loud clang on the pavement where Amanda pointed.

"You sure this is just a hundred pounds?" Kyle gasped out, and he leaned over their triumph.

"Well, maybe more like two hundred," she revealed as she tried to hide her grin. She received two hard glares for her trouble, and she shrunk back. "I didn't think you'd move it if you knew what it really weighed."

"Maybe you should have asked him," Jack piped up, and he nodded toward the stage.

The three watched Mr. Jenkins carry a large speaker up the stairs and onto the long stage. He didn't appear to be having any trouble as Ms. Huxley pointed out where to set it while she glanced at a clipboard in her hand.

"You think now's a good time to ask her about that map on the brochure?" Kyle suddenly suggested. He got two blank expressions for his trouble. "You know, Jack, that same one in the journal."

"What journal?" Amanda asked, and Jack looked at Kyle with a funny expression.

"How did you even remember that?" Jack inquired.

"Because you never know when the stupid stuff will be important," he replied.

"Well, even if you remembered that, we probably shouldn't bother her right now," Jack pointed out. He nodded toward the chaotic scene beyond the booth. "She's a little busy right now trying to get this thing together."

"It's only a little question, it won't take long," Kyle argued as he moved toward the stage.

"Kyle!" Jack called to him, and he followed his friend through the crowd.

Kyle didn't heed him as he swiftly dodged the people and parked vehicles, and he quickly arrived at the platform. Jack could see his mouth open to get Ms. Huxley's attention, but fate intervened.

Mr. Jenkins had grabbed the second pair of speakers and was shuffling up the stairs opposite Kyle when he suddenly tripped. His hand slipped on the equipment and the speakers went rolling forward and the sharp edge of one of the corners cut across his hand.

"Leroy!" Ms. Huxley yelled out as the speaker dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

"It's fine," he grimaced, but she grabbed his hand. She pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped the bleeding wound. "Just a scratch."

"You get a bandage on it, and I'll clean up here," Jack heard her say. Without a word of argument he walked away toward the library with the cloth firmly clinging to the long scratch. Kyle helplessly stood by as a few of the men and women came up behind Jack.

"You need a hand, Ms. Huxley?" one of the burlier men asked.

"No, it's fine, just a scratch," she soothed as she smiled at their helpfulness. "Leroy's fine, we'll be finished up soon when he gets back."

"Alright," he replied, and the rest dispersed back to their booths.

Ms. Huxley, oblivious to the two boys who remained of the crowd, grabbed a roll of paper towels. She began to mop up the few drops which had splattered onto the stage. Jack wondered what all the fuss was about since the cut had hardly bled.

"Ms. Huxley?" Kyle asked her. Jack moved to stand on the platform with his friend. She jumped in fright and turned to them, causing both of them to jerk back in surprise.

"Oh, you startled me," she replied as she breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess I was focusing too much on cleaning this mess up," she inferred. She carefully wrapped the paper towels into a ball. "But what was it you wanted?" she inquired as she composed herself.

"We were wondering where you got the map for the brochure," Kyle explained. She frowned as she thought about the question.

"From an old book one of our members had, I think," she hesitantly informed. "But I can't say for sure because my sister-in-law Amelia was in charge of that."

"Well, thanks anyway," he replied as they heard someone shouting their names.

"Jack, Kyle!" Mrs. Erikson yelled when she noticed them on the stage. "I'm going to need some help with these banners."

The rest of the afternoon was filled with chores as the boys were assigned every odd job no adult wanted to do. Streamers were strung around the old light poles and tents weighed down with rope wrapped around cinder blocks. Flowers in large pots in front of the stores were moved, rearranged and set back as a few of the older women bickered amongst themselves about the positioning. Tables were set up and concessions prepared as night began to fall, and the street lights glowed against the darkness. Kyle kept everything lively with his inanities and everyone's cheerfulness made the chores lighter.

Finally their work was completed as those who still remained began to wander home for a late dinner and prepare for an early rising. The festivities were scheduled to begin at noon, but the booths would be opened for business in the early morning hours to treat the visitors with fresh breakfasts of every variety.

"I'd like to thank you for all your hard work today," Ms. Huxley complimented as she walked up to the family. "You helped us very much."

"It's no problem, we're glad to do it," Mrs. Erikson politely replied. Jack rubbed his sore arms. He would be feeling all those heavy blocks tomorrow. "And you want us around the stage at about a quarter to noon?"

"That's right, and I look forward to reading your paper, Jack," Ms. Huxley winked at the young boy while Kyle joined them. He looked exhausted. "And you were a great help, too, Kyle," she laughed at his long face.

"Ugh," was all he could reply as his arms drooped at his sides.

"On that note, I need to get a few more things done before I head home," Ms. Huxley teased. They bid their farewells and parted for the day.

"How about we meet at Amanda's booth tomorrow morning for breakfast?" Mrs. Erikson suggested before Kyle shuffled off.

"Ugh," Kyle repeated. Jack wondered if all the talking he'd done had destroyed his voice.

"Great, we'll see you then," she promised.

Jack and his mom then headed toward the car to the quick dinner and beds which called their names. His mother still had enough energy to speak excitedly of the chores that day, but Jack could barely keep his eyes open. After the meal he felt his head had hardly touched the pillow when his alarm was going off and a new day had dawned.

"No sleeping in today, mister," he heard his mom call from the hall, and she knocked on his door. "Up and at 'em!"

"Fine," he groaned as he slithered out of bed and into the clothes he'd laid out before passing out the night before. The sun was hardly rising as he walked down the stairs and followed his mom out into the chilly morning. "Why are we doing this again?" he asked as they got into the cold car.

"Because we're a part of this community now, and this is really important for the town," she commented while she ground the gear. "Someday I'll get the hang of this," she promised with a laugh, and they drove down the driveway.

They arrived to find the parking lot with a few spots still open, and they wandered their way to the celebration. A few young folk straggled behind their parents for a fresh, early morning breakfast, but the majority were adults accustomed to the early hour. Most were setting up their booths and the fresh smell of homemade food wafted to Jack's nostrils. He breathed deeply and drooled.

"You drool on it, you buy it," his mother warned as they walked straight toward Amanda's booth.

An exhausted-looking Kyle was on his knees with his chin on the booth table. His hungry eyes were staring unblinkingly at the food his friend was cooking with her mother.

"Please lemme have some," he begged as he rolled his head to one side. "I'm starving here."

"We can't cook it any faster," Amanda scolded as her mother laughed.

The older lady Huxley looked much like her daughter with her short hair and brown eyes, but she had a spring to her step which bespoke a more outgoing nature. Her smile was infectious as she turned to her new customers.

"We're just about ready to go," she announced with a skillet in one hand and an eggshell in another. "Oh, Mrs. Erikson, glad to see you're here early," she greeted with a wink. "You'll get the best of what we've got before it's all gone."

"With such great service we'll just be happy for a quick meal," she replied, and they both jovially laughed.

"Weirdos," Kyle muttered. Jack doubted his friend could give a higher, or more hypocritical, insult.

"You're messing up the table, Kyle," Amanda fumed as she tightened her grip on her spatula. "Why don't you go bother someobody else's table for a while?"

"I know just what'll help," Mrs. Huxley commented. She stirred the sizzling sunny-side eggs in her pan and deftly put two each on three plates. "That should tide you all over until we can get those biscuits and gravy ready," she added. She passed out plastic forks to her customers.

They all ate with relish and the flavor was every bit as delicious as the look and smell. By the time the rest of the meal was ready the sun was shining down on them and the crowds were getting larger. Shoppers and sightseers gathered around the booths and wandered amongst the many wares and fantastic food. Tourists flocked to buy the knickknacks and bobbles while locals bought the more hefty items to take home after the day's festivities. The morning was spent enjoying those sights and sounds of the commotion of fun as Jack and Kyle tried to stay out of trouble, and out of work.

They were successful until eleven-thirty, when Mrs. Erikson rounded up her errant son and dragged him to the stage. He noticed Ms. Huxley had kept her promise to station three seats on the platform for his family, but he hadn't seen his grandfather in several days. He doubted his reclusive relation would make an appearance at such a crowded event.

There was also a few seats on the other side of the platform, and in one of the chairs sat a burly, tall gentleman with unruly black hair. His arms were folded and his dark eyes watched as Jack was dragged up the stairs and forced to sit in one of the chairs. Jack wasn't sure what his problem was, but the man stared daggers at them until he realized he'd been spotted. Then he scowled and turned away, but Jack was still left with a bad feeling.

When the town church clock rang the noon hour, Ms. Huxley stood before a microphone placed at center stage. She gave Mr. Jenkins a signal and the sound system was turned on to screeching effect, gaining everyone's attention.

"I'd like to welcome everyone to the two hundredth and fiftieth anniversary celebration of our town founding," she began, and she was greeted by loud applause and some whistles. "As I'm sure most of you know, the town's early history is mostly unknown, but thanks to Kyle Skinner and one of our newest members to the community, Jack Erikson, I have a short speech on the early days."

Thus she commenced the summary Jack had prepared based on Kyle's essay, and he blushed as many eyes turned to his mother and him. Thankfully the tale was short as she summed up the last paragraph and applause followed.

"And one final duty on my checklist," she announced to the crowd, and she half turned to her guests. "Let's give a warm welcome to the new family of the Hawthorn Inn, Mrs. Emily Erikson and Mr. Jack Erikson." Everyone politely clapped and even more faces turned to stare. Jack rolled his eyes when he saw Kyle whistling at the front of the crowd. "We hope you'll have success in turning the old inn back to her glory days."

Jack was surprised when his mother stood and strode over to the microphone. Ms. Huxley moved aside and she took the mic in hand.

"Thank you so much for the great welcome," she began as she looked over the crowd. "I bought the inn in the hopes of making it a strong part of the community again, and on that note I'd like to announce a Halloween Party on the thirty-first, and everyone is welcome to attend." There came up such a great roar and such chattering it took her several moments to rein in their enthusiasm. "It's going to be a costume party, so be sure to bring the best one you have, and I hope to see you there."

The thunderous reception she received almost called for an encore, but Mrs. Erikson gratefully clipped the mic back and handed control back over to Ms. Huxley. However, Jack noticed that there were several faces in the crowd who did not clap. That included the gentleman on the stage with them, who kept his hands firmly inside his arms.

"We're still working out the times, but we'll be sure to have it after the trick or treating so even the teenagers don't need to cut their candy stops short," Ms. Huxley joked, and the adults in the crowd laughed while their older kids just rolled their eyes. "But for now, enjoy the celebration games and let's hope for another two hundred and fifty more years!"

The crowd gave one last cheer and dispersed to obey her command. Jack was grateful to leave his uncomfortable seat. Kyle joined them at the foot of the stairs as many in the crowd began herding toward the nearby park. The games were about to begin and many were prepared to partake in the simple sports. Old fashioned games like horseshoes and hoop rolling were mixed with basketball and miniature golf. The afternoon hours passed by, interrupted only by lunch, as the boys and Mrs. Erikson watched the competitors during the egg balancing contest.

Jack, however, was curious about the inhospitable man on the stage.

"Who was that guy up there with us on the stage?" he managed to ask Kyle while they watched the events.

"Who? That cranky looking guy?" Jack nodded and Kyle stuck out his tongue. "He's Jack Fuller. He's one of Mr. Fuller's brothers," he explained when he realized Jack recognized the name. "He's one of those people who wanted to buy the inn for the town, but the Olsens wouldn't cut down the price."

"What'd the town want it for?" This was the first Jack had heard of another offer for the place.

"A museum. Right now, you know, the old one's in the library's basement. They wanted to get it out of the flooding area.

The middle-aged group had just been called when Jack felt Kyle nudge him. When he turned to him he noticed his eyes were wide in amazement.

"Jack," his friend nodded toward the clump of trees around the library. Jack looked past the people and couldn't help but notice the odd figure covered in black standing in one of the alleys close at hand. His head moved to and fro as he watched the people wander by, and none dared stop to speak to the strange gentleman. "Isn't that your grandpa?"

"Dad?" he heard his mom whisper, and her tone was a mix of worry and surprise. She got up and strode over to him. Jack followed with Kyle at his heels, and they reached his grandfather. "Dad, what are you doing here?" she urgently asked as she looked into his pale face.

"Watching," was his sole response and she rolled her eyes.

"I can see that, but couldn't you have waited till later?" she hissed at him. She pointed at the sun still sitting in the sky. "You stick out like a sore thumb."

"I will be fine," he curtly replied, and she realized she would get nothing else out of him.

"You're impossible," she muttered. She stalked off, leaving the boys alone with the gentleman. No one else dared come near him, and Jack wondered whether he shouldn't follow his mom before his friend ruined the quick escape.

"So did you get to hear the speech Jack and I made, Mr. P.?" Kyle quipped

"No," he answered, and Kyle was a little miffed but undeterred.

"Well, me and Jack worked really hard on the paper and Ms. Huxley gave the speech earlier today," he continued as he beamed. His pride overrode any fear he held for the strange man, and he leaned in closer to the pale gentleman. "Maybe some day we can write down your history," he hinted.

Jack's grandfather stopped his perusal of the crowds and his head slowly turned to look down at the young lads, who winced at his stare. Those strange glasses were dull even against the light of the sun.

"I think we'd better go," Jack hinted as he grabbed his friend's shoulders and steered him away.

"Hey, not so fast," Kyle protested as Jack led them away from the gamers.

"I know what you're trying to do," he informed his friend, and he led them across the street. He wanted enough silence to be able to hear himself think. "Because you think he's a vampire, you want him to tell you his life story."

"That plot sounds familiar, but pretty much," his friend agreed as they came out on the second street. Here he was finally released and he turned back to see nothing behind them. "And there was something else I was gonna ask him before you interrupted me," he whispered, and his eyes shifted to and fro.

"Like if he's been drinking enough blood lately?" Jack sarcastically suggested.

"No, like if he's gonna be sticking around here for a while," Kyle replied. He had a mad gleam in his eyes that Jack didn't like at all. "We've got the perfect opportunity to go check out the east wing."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack asked with concern in his voice. "Why should we do that? My mom's gonna open it soon anyway."

"Yeah, but without me," he emphasized in a wounded voice. He scowled and slammed his fist into his open palm. "And that's exactly why we need to check it out tonight," he pressed. "Because your mom's gonna start the renovations soon, she might find that secret passage before we do."

"Why can't we let them find the secret passage first?" Jack asked.

"Why not us?" his friend protested.

"Because I don't want them doing the renovation and finding our bodies later," Jack argued.

"We'll only be gone an hour at most," Kyle soothed. He patted his friend on the shoulder. He grinned widely and Jack feared for them both. "And I have all the tools we'll need to get in."
Chapter 15

Desecration

"Why do I have a feeling this isn't gonna work out well?" Jack groaned.

"Because you lack imagination," Kyle retorted as he dragged his friend toward Amanda's booth. "I've got the bikes in front of the library, we just need to grab my bag."

"You've been planning this all week, haven't you?" his friend accused. They passed through the alley and out into the busy street.

"Yep," Kyle replied, and he swiped his bag from inside the tent. "Thanks for watching my bag, Amanda," he called out with a wave.

"You'd better not go too far," Amanda threatened, and she looked up from the stove with a scowl. "We only have a few hours left until we need to pack up all this stuff, and it's probably going to rain soon," she commented as she nodded at the mountains. The storm from yesterday was still gathering steam over the forest, and threatened to break at any minute.

"We'll be right back, just gotta check something out," he promised. Amanda shot him a suspicious glance but only Jack took notice as he was led away toward the library. "Just gotta make sure your mom and grandpa don't see us," Kyle mumbled as he comically ducked behind cars. Jack stood behind him and followed without bothering to hide.

"By the time we get to the bikes it'll be dark," he pointed out.

"You wanna keep it down?" Kyle hissed as he looked this way and that. "Your grandpa's probably got great hearing."

"And sight, so you may as well lead us to the bikes," Jack sighed. "If he's around, there's no way we'll avoid him."

"I guess..." his friend gave in. Kyle straightened and marched across the street to the left side of the library entrance. There were parked Kyle's usual bike and a small, pink bike with a white basket on the front. Jack didn't like the look of this as Kyle unlocked both of them.

"Lemme guess, your sister's?" he dryly commented.

"Yep," Kyle replied as he dragged his out of the bike rack. "And you're the lucky guy who gets to ride it today."

"I hate you so badly right now," Jack grumbled, but he took the white handle bars of the girl bike.

"You'll thank me when we show everyone the cool pictures of the inn," his companion replied with a wink as he got on his bike.

"Famous last words," he retorted. Jack followed his foolhardy friend down the street and out onto the driveway to the inn.

They biked at a brisk pace, even with Jack's legs jamming up into his chest because of the short pedals, and within fifteen minutes they were huffing up the hill. The skies were growing prematurely darker as the thunder clouds began traveling their way, enveloping the small town beneath their shadows. The two boys coasted to the front door and Kyle set his bike down on the ground while his friend did the same.

"Um, one question," his friend asked, and he nodded toward the door. His eager demeanor was now edged with worry. "Did your mom lock the door?"

"Unfortunately, no," Jack replied. His friend's exuberant mood returned as they stepped inside the lobby. "She figured there wasn't anything worth stealing yet and she was hoping to use my grandpa as a security system."

"That didn't work out too well."

"Nope, that's why she was so mad to see him in the alley."

Jack flipped on the lights as Kyle put his bag on the ground and began to rummage through the main pocket. He took out his small phone and two flashlights.

"I can take pictures with my phone, but not too many. It doesn't have much space left," Kyle sheepishly admitted. He held up the two flashlights, one in each hand. They were different colors, blue and red.

"Do you always carry flashlights in your backpack?" Jack asked when he noticed the dust on their handles.

"Yep, I'm always prepared," he informed, and he held out the red one for Jack to take. "The boy scouts are amateurs compared to me."

"The boy scouts have enough sense not to get into this much trouble," Jack pointed out. "I'm not going to be able to convince you to stop this madness without going through with this, am I?" he asked as he looked at the flashlight.

"Nope," was the blunt reply.

"Fine," Jack admitted defeat, and he grabbed the offered tool. Then he pondered the flashlight in his hand for a moment while his friend stood to his feet. "Why'd I get this one?" he asked, and his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with me having the other one?"

"Uh, my favorite color is blue," his friend explained. He stepped over to the far back east wing door. "Besides, I gave you old Reliable," he argued. "She'll keep going."

Jack wondered about the name while he watched as his companion toyed with the heavy lock for a minute before admitting defeat. They were sealed as tight as any tomb, so he turned his attention toward the flights of stairs leading up to the second floor.

"I guess we'll have to see if we can get in through those secret stairs," Kyle mused, and he led them to the second story.

Even with the lights of the passage brightly lit, Jack still felt nervous as their feet tapped quietly on the floor. They were the only movement and sound in the entire building, and he felt unsettled knowing his mom wasn't somewhere close by. It wasn't that the loneliness frightened him, it was the idea of being separated from every other living soul with no one to turn to if they ran into some trouble. The whole adventure felt like a trap, and he wondered if he shouldn't drag his friend out of the inn even as they reached the end of the hall.

"There's gotta be a switch around here somewhere," Kyle muttered. He began tapping and banging on the walls in the alcove. "Where'd you say the entrance was?"

"Somewhere around here," Jack replied, and he watched his friend from a few feet back. He still had the urge to bolt, and his heart was pounding faster as he looked over his shoulder.

"Ah-ha!" he heard his companion triumphantly yell. Jack turned in time to see him rotate the small dial at the bottom of the closest electric lamp.

A portion of the wall, perfectly concealed by the differing outcroppings of the panelling, slid into itself to reveal the narrow, dark staircase he remembered so well.

"I don't think you were dreaming about your grandpa helping you up this thing," his friend commented as he shined his flashlight down the staircase. "Unless you've got some crazy premonitions."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, and he clicked on his own flashlight. The light flickered a little and he had to whack the head to get a steady beam. "This thing doesn't work very well," he commented, and he glared at Kyle.

"Heh, well, I still don't like red very much," Kyle defended as he stepped inside the dark area. His feet tapped against the ancient wooden floor planks and dust rose up to cover his shoes. The boards creaked beneath his weight and he felt some bend. "This outta be easy for you to go first since you've been in here before," he mused.

"Yeah, from the opposite direction," he countered. "And the other time I was kinda not feeling very well."

"You're fine now, so let's pretend we're walking backwards," he suggested as he leaned over the shaky railing.

"Yeah, I'd rather we not go at all," Jack informed. He suddenly looked over his shoulder when he thought he heard the tapping of feet coming up the stairs. The hall remained empty, but he could hear the far off rumble of the storm. "And we really need to get back to town before this storm hits or my mom's gonna kill us."

"Then I'll go first," Kyle volunteered as he ignored the warning. Before Jack could stop him his lower body had already disappeared down the turn of the stairs. Come on!" he called back. "We don't have all night!"

"Damn it, Kyle, why the hell are you so stubborn?" Jack yelled down the stairs as the rest of his friend vanished. He groaned and said a small prayer. "Goodbye, cruel world," he muttered. He then took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness.

Jack followed as quickly as he dared even as the steps creaked and groaned beneath his feet. He didn't dare use the railing for support while he dodged wispy cobwebs. He met Kyle at the bottom of the stairs, and his friend was searching the wall for an entrance into the wing.

"Can't see a thing even with this flashlight," Kyle complained while he carefully felt along the wall. He flinched every time his hand brushed against the thick mess of webs spun between the studs. "Good thing we have the light from the hall, hunh?"

He spoke too soon as their reliable escape route slowly began to close. Jack rushed to the stairs and had only bounded up a few of the steps before his foot broke through the board. He felt down against the wall as the light from above was completely extinguished.

"Jack!" Kyle exclaimed as he came to his friend's aid. Together they managed to release his leg from the hole, and found he only had a mild sprain. "Well crap," he commented when they could finally step back and contemplate their dilemma. "Should we try banging it down?" he wondered aloud.

"I'm not climbing those steps again," Jack swore, and he limped away from the staircase. He winced and he leaned against the wall for support. "And you're crazy if you wanna try breaking down that wall while standing on those rotten boards."

"Then we'd better find the way into the east wing," Kyle suggested as he resumed his search. "It's gotta be somewhere around here."

"Have you tried that handle by the machine?" Jack inquired. He shone his weak flashlight on some chains and gears along the left side of the wall.

"Oh, right," his friend nervously laughed, and he picked his way through the rusted items.

With a mix of intuition and dumb luck Kyle found the lever and pulled it down to start the machine. The wall slowly swung open to reveal the ghostly east wing. Jack shivered as a small, cool breeze wafted past them. He wondered how a draft came to be in the shut room. Kyle stepped outside the passage and into the dark room.

"Cool," Kyle quietly complimented as his head turned every which way to take in everything. Neither boy dared raise their voice above a whisper against the heavy atmosphere of the rooms. "Amanda is gonna be so jealous," he snickered as he took out the phone from his coat pocket. He began snapping pictures while his friend wandered past him.

"I doubt it," Jack grumbled. He stumbled over the dusty rug in the center of the room, causing dry dirt to fly into his face.

He coughed through the cloud and found himself standing close to the fireplace. He would have cursed his weak flashlight as the beam barely illuminated two yards in front of him, but the young lad wasn't so sure he wanted to see what mysteries were to be found in that room. This place felt like the cemetery, what with the same oppressive mood. He wondered how Kyle was oblivious to the low, constant insistence to leave.

"Looks exactly like the other side, doesn't it?" Kyle commented as he snapped a picture of the rocks. "It even had a picture up there, too," he pointed out, and he nodded toward a bright, square patch of stones. It looked like a large portrait had hung on the chimney for a long time before being removed, leaving only the outline.

Kyle moved closer for a shot of the mantel when he suddenly tripped over something on the floor. He fell hard onto the dirty floor, but managed to turn onto his back to save both his flashlight and the phone from damage and dust.

"Damn it," he cursed, and he tried to recover the wind knocked out of him. "What the hell did I trip over?" he asked as he stumbled to his feet.

"I don't know," Jack replied as he stooped down to inspect the perpetrator. His hand ran along the floor and his fingers caught beneath a wooden panel. "I think it's some kind of a door or something," he guessed as he tried to lift it.

"Here, lemme help," Kyle offered. With both their strengths they were able to push the board up part way to reveal a pitch black pit. Kyle shone his flashlight down upon a short flight of stairs. "Wow Jack, your house has a basement," he quipped.

"Oh goody," he replied as he tried to push the hatch completely open. The rusted hinges, however, wouldn't allow the board to move any further. "I think we've seen enough," he commented. He made to close the hatch, but Kyle stopped him.

"Come on, Jack, lemme take a peak," his friend pleaded. He had his impromptu camera at the ready and his eyes shone bright with excitement. "Just don't shut that door," he emphasized. He let go of his end of the board and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"How about you don't tempt fate?" Jack warned, but Kyle had already slipped down into the hole. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

"It'll only take a second," Kyle promised after his feet hit the dirt floor. "See? Nothing to worry about." His voice sounded like an echo across a long cavern.

"Get out of there and I'll have nothing to worry about," his friend growled.

Jack suddenly stiffened as the breeze from before passed over the back of his neck. He felt his hair stand on end as a sound floated from the lobby, resounding through the very walls.

The chimes of Midnight called to them, striking one note after another as it marched through the hours. He couldn't help himself as he mouthed the count, and his voice died when the twelfth gong sounded. Before the echo of the last bell had disappeared Jack's attention was caught by movement to his right.

He turned in time to see the door leading to the lobby start to creak open. Without thinking Jack clamored down the stairs with the hatch clattering shut over his head.

"Wha-" Kyle began to ask before Jack slapped a hand over his mouth.

He struggled for a moment until they both heard a door click shut. There was no sound of feet along the boards, but they watched as a quiet rain of dust floated through the thin cracks above them. They didn't dare breathe as a shadow passed over them and paused for a moment at the hatch. The seconds ticked by like minutes. An eternity passed and then repeated itself.

Finally the intruder turned away and they heard the groaning of the old door open and close. Their shoulders slumped and their stiff bodies relaxed.

"What the hell was that?" Kyle whispered. His voice shook so violently Jack had trouble understanding the words.

"I don't know," he replied in an equally shaken tone as he shook his head. He hadn't seen who was opening the door, he just knew he needed to hide. "I saw the door to the lobby opening and jumped in."

"Then what was that chiming before?" his friend pressed. "It's not midnight."

"Because," Jack replied as he tried not to start panicking. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Because Ms. Huxley said it's supposed to be a warning, like a big black dog." Jack heard Kyle take a gulp of air. "What? What's wrong?" he pried as he shook his companion's shoulders.

"Jack," Kyle whispered in the dark, "those black dogs make bad things happen."

"Oh god..." he answered as his hands quivered. He looked and climbed the few stairs to press his shoulder against the hatch. He pushed with all his might but the board wouldn't budge even an inch. "Kyle," he huffed as he turned to his friend. "I think we're stuck."

"Yeah," his friend agreed. His shattered voice cut through the darkness and Jack realized he was trying hard not to cry. "You think your mom'll come soon and get us out?" he whispered.

"I doubt it," Jack drearily commented as he captured the inn's layout in his mind. "With this thick floor and these walls I doubt anyone could hear anything," he commented as he flashed his light along the stone walls.

"Wait, lemme try my cellphone!" Kyle pointed out as he flipped out the item. His face fell when he opened the phone to see there were no reception bars.

"You're not gonna get reception surrounded by rock and standing beneath an entire building," Jack replied. His eyes suddenly caught something along the rocks. "But I think we should get out of here quick," he softly informed.

"What is it?" Kyle asked as his voice trembled. His flashlight joined Jack's and they both looked at thin cracks which lined the walls. "Those don't look good," he commented.

"I don't think they are," Jack agreed. He stepped forward and ran a hand over the cracks. Nothing flaked off and they weren't large enough to catch his fingers. "And I think us being down here isn't gonna help."

"So what do we do?" his friend wondered. Kyle turned his light down the passage and the beam hardly penetrated more than ten yards. Jack's was more than useless when his flashlight suddenly went out.

"Just grand," he muttered as he tossed aside the worthless tool. "If we want to get out of here before our other flashlight dies, we don't have much of a choice," Jack pointed out as he stepped forward. "It's either that or stay here until someone comes into the east wing."

"But no one can get into there except us and your grandpa," Kyle replied. "Not until your mom gets those guys to open it."

"Exactly," Jack agreed. He looked over his shoulder and into his friend's beam. "And I'm not sticking around for my grandpa to find us."

"I guess you're right..." his companion hesitated as he shone the light down the passage. "Just remember to breathe," Jack heard him mutter, and they began the trek through the unknown tunnel.

The narrow passage wasn't wide enough to stretch out their arms, much less walk side by side, so Jack was forced to follow his friend as he limped along. Their feet tapped against the rocky ground and caused the thick layer of dust to rise up. The air filled with a thin layer of sediment and even Kyle's flashlight hardly penetrated the clouds of decay and abandonment. Their mouths and lungs became choked with the rotten, molding air, for the walls were coated with rancid water dripping through the thin cracks. They pressed on in the hope of finding a wider spot in the tunnel, or perhaps even freedom. The thought of escape, however, diminished when Jack realized they were heading at an declining angle. He wasn't sure how deep they were now, but he imagined they were at least a few dozen yards from the surface.

After a few short minutes Kyle suddenly veered off course and clutched onto one of the walls. Jack moved beside him and heard his breath coming out in shaking gasps.

"You okay?" he asked as he settled a hand on his shoulder. He was shocked by how violently his friend's body shook. "Kyle, what's wrong?"

"It's...I-I'm a little claustrophobic," he informed Jack, and he turned to look at his companion. Kyle's eyes were filled with tears which threatened to break free as sweat covered his pale face. Jack wondered how he had made it this far without panicking. "Maybe if this place had some nice wallpaper," he tried to joke, and Jack wondered at his ability to find the humor even in the darkest of times.

"How about I go first?" he suggested as he looked down the passage. "Might be a load off you."

"N-no, I'll be fine," he insisted as he wiped his dirty face. "Besides," he grinned as he shown the flashlight on his face, "I don't think I'd do any better without the light."

Kyle led on with the hope that the passage would widen, and after a few more tense moments their wish was granted. The walls pulled apart to open up into a large cavern. Kyle quickened his steps and outstripped Jack by a few feet to step out into the clear, wide space.

Jack was shocked when Kyle suddenly paused and swiftly turned around. Kyle knocked into him in his desperate retreat from the room.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked as he grabbed at his frantic companion's shoulders. He struggled for a moment to stop his friend fleeing with the flashlight. "What the hell is wrong?" he repeated as he shook him hard.

"We can't go in there," Kyle whispered as his hands clutched onto his friend.

"Why not?" he pressed. He tried to look past him into the darkness. Jack could see nothing but a pale floor, and he couldn't get a better look without the flashlight his friend clutched to himself.

"Bones," Kyle gasped. There was such a measure of horror in his voice that Jack froze. "Jack, the place is covered in bones."

He knew the answer to the question, but he still had to ask.

"What kind of bones?" he whispered. His friend shook his head and tightened his hold on Jack's clothing. "Kyle, what kind of bones?"

Kyle shuddered and looked up into his face with his large, terrified eyes. His shaking voice was barely a whisper in the empty air.

"Human."

For a moment Jack was perfectly still as he took in his companion's words and the complete fear in his face. He knew Kyle wasn't lying just to scare him, but he had to see for himself. There was no other way for him to believe it.

"Stay here," he ordered as he took the flashlight.

"Jack, don't!" Kyle argued, and he clawed at Jack's shirt.

"If this is our only way out, I'm gonna have to see it some time," he explained.

Jack stepped out into the cavern and shone the light into the clear, still air. The space was much larger and taller than he'd imagined, but that wasn't what caught his attention. Rather, it was what was caught in the beam of the flashlight.

The mold-stained floor was littered with dozens of earthly remains. They had all been tossed aside one by one by some merciless hand ages ago, to rot and vanish with the years. Any clothes had not weathered the years and they lay only upon one another in a ghoulish embrace. Their smiling skulls watched eternity creep by even as their ebony fingers and feet were scattered by rodents and rot. Jawbones lay upon empty rib cages and arms rose up as though trying to claw at the air. Their numbers seemed to go on and on until they met the walls on either side, and then they stacked up into tall, white drifts.

"We gotta get outta here," Jack heard Kyle whisper through the silence of death. His friend stood behind him and nervously looked over his shoulder. "Before we end up like them."

Jack couldn't argue with escape, but his mind was caught up in the horrific sadness spread out before them.

"We...we gotta tell my mom about this," he choked out.

"What? Like hell we gotta," Kyle insisted. "Not even your mom can know about this much stuff."

"Why the hell not?" Jack argued. He looked at his friend like he was crazy. "We gotta tell everybody about this! We gotta find out what happened to these people!"

"But why?" Kyle questioned as his hand swept over the bodies. "Listen to yourself for a moment, Jack. We can't save them, they're already dead," he explained. "We'd just be pulling them out of here to get attention."

"My mom deserves to know," Jack countered. "This is her place."

"Yeah, and that's exactly why there's another problem," Kyle pointed out, and he shook his head. "Your mom's inn would be not just famous, but infamous."

"What? Why?" Jack asked.

"People are going to be coming around poking into everything," Kyle insisted as he took hold of one of his friend's shoulders. "Everyone's secrets, all the secrets, they're all gonna be out there for people to find." He knelt down and looked over the bones. "You don't know small town politics like I do, Jack," he wearily explained. "Stuff like this isn't gonna earn anyone any medals around here. We're just gonna have to figure out what happened here on our own."

"But we can't leave them here," Jack argued. He didn't sound as convinced as before. "They need a grave or something."

"This is their grave, Jack," Kyle explained as he looked around. "It's their tomb," he whispered before turning back to his friend. "And if we tell everyone about it, they'll come in here and wreck it."

Jack was silent as Kyle watched him and waited. He had laid out his argument, and now he had but to agree or disagree. There was no way he could force him to choose the decision he wanted, but he had enough faith in his friend to make the best choice.

His hovered the flashlight over a tall pile of the dead, and their empty eyes stared back at him. They awaited his decision over their fate; to have their secret revealed for all the world to pick at, or to lay in peace where their lives had ended. They needed to tell his mom, it was her right to be told that the inn was atop a burial ground filled with lost souls, and yet he had that nagging doubt that she wouldn't believe him.

Kyle was right, though. The consequences would mean sensational stories and overwhelming publicity as the bodies would be exhumed one by one. Their eternity of rest would end as experts picked apart what remained of their bodies and studied them only for the purpose of satisfying their curiosity.

"I'll make you a deal," he slowly spoke up. Kyle's attention was his entirely. "We won't tell anyone about this place right now, but someday we're gonna have to."

"Yeah, this may be their tomb, but your mom's gotta at least know some time," Kyle agreed. A devilish grin appeared on his face. "Wouldn't you like to know if your property was standing on top of a graveyard?" He paused and pondered something for a moment. "Just don't tell her when she's about to sell this place, otherwise she'll have to give the buyers a discount." His joke fell flat on the deaf ears of the dead, though, and he cringed when his voice echoed back. "Or maybe I should just shut up now."

"How about we just get out of here?" Jack softly replied, and he suddenly felt a chill run along his spine. He looked around as he rose to his feet, but nothing excited his attention. He shone the beam of light amongst the bones one final time before he began searching for a path. The flashlight caught a clearing of bones on the floor. "However they got in, I don't think it was through the inn," he informed as he stepped onto the path. "Ready to finish this adventure?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied, but he held back at the entrance. "But I don't think I can go through there," he insisted, and he waved a hand at the bones. "Can't we just try to the way we got in?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but he choked on his words when a sound hit his ears. It was a soft rustling noise and very quiet at first, but it was slowly getting louder. Because of the echoing cavern he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"You hear that?" he whispered to Kyle.

"Hear what?" Kyle asked. He grabbed Jack's arm and frantically tried to see in the darkness. "What is it?"

"Shh!" Jack held up his hand and slowly floated the beam of the flashlight over the bones. "Something's moving."

The boys held their breath while the sound grew loud enough for Kyle to hear it. Jack paused the light over something large to their far left. He squinted and stepped forward a few feet to the edge of the bones to get a better look at it. It was something short and round, and metal reflected the light.

That's when he felt something wrap around his leg.

Jack cried out as his legs were suddenly pulled out from beneath him. His head knocked hard against the rough ground and the thing started dragging him through the bones. Kyle screamed as he, too, was dragged down into the skeletons. They couldn't do any more than lift up their arms to block the bone fragments that jabbed at them as they were sped through the piles. Whatever held them climbed higher on their legs while the ground flew by. They were nearly at the dark object in the back when something blacker than night spewed out of the thing. Dark tendrils reached out to pull them down into hell.

Then the world seemed to pause.

They suddenly stopped, but whatever had them didn't let go. The wrappings around their legs twisted and turned as though indecisive. Suddenly the cavern was filled with this overwhelming feeling of anger, and they felt themselves freed.

Jack still clutched the flashlight in his hand, and he dragged Kyle off the ground.

"Move!" Jack yelled. He shoved his friend in front of him and they scattered bones out of their path toward the far exit.

Jack ignored the pain in his leg as their feet pounded along the floor as they felt the ground began a gradual incline toward the surface. They passed wet rock while the dust in their lungs was replaced by the damp coolness of fresh air. A few dozen yards beyond the cavern and they tumbled into another short flight of old stairs leading to a hatch. Faint light streamed through the floor boards of some sort of structure as Kyle scrambled up the steps.

"Help me with this!" Jack ordered as he jumped up beside his friend. They both pressed their weight against the board as the roar behind them grew louder.

"Jack!" Kyle yelled. He caught a glimpse of something dark move through the streams of light.

Jack clenched his teeth and let out the great bellow as he pushed his last bit of strength into pressing against the hatch. The rusted hinges finally gave way and the board rose up to allow them room to scramble up as Jack let Kyle go first. He allowed one last glance back over his shoulder to see a shadow standing in the darkness before his friend pulled him up into freedom.

The boys let the hatch slam shut while they hurried to grab anything not nailed down. They shoved the items over the entrance. Their frantic efforts last only a few moments before Jack realized where they were and he grabbed Kyle's arm. They were in the gardener shed, and he pulled his friend toward the door.

"Get outside!" he commanded. He pushed open the door and they tumbled out into the storm.

Rain pelted their filthy clothes and skin as Jack led them through the darkness toward the inn. They slipped and fell several times before they reached the back patio and ran up against the French doors. Jack clawed several times for the slippery wet handles before he managed to open the door and they both collapsed into the dining room. Jack slammed shut the door and locked it behind them before he leaned back against the window.

They were safe.
Chapter 16

An End to Adventure?

"We're alive!" Kyle huffed out as he slid to the floor. His hand clutched at his rapidly beating heart. "We actually made it!"

"Yeah," Jack agreed. He reached over and flipped on the lights. The room was illuminated in time for them to hear noises coming from the lobby, and they both froze.

"Jack? Kyle?" they suddenly heard Jack's mom call their names.

They didn't need any more coaxing as they both rushed to meet her. Kyle dashed across the dining room with Jack hobbling behind, and he joined him at the entrance.

"James William Erikson!" his mother yelled when she noticed her son and his friend in the doorway. Her mouth dropped open when she surveyed them from head to toe. "Where the hell have you two been?" she demanded, and Jack cringed. She never cursed unless she was really mad. "We've all been been worried sick about you two," she scolded. She stomped forward and roughly grabbed his arm. He always forgot how strong she was until she was angry.

"We're fine, mom, really," Jack meekly defended while he tried to gently free himself from her grasp. He winced when the pain in his leg flared up. "We just needed to do something, that's all."

"Something more important than staying out of trouble?" she harshly questioned as she gave him a good shake. She couldn't help but hear the tiny yelp he let out as he stepped on his bad foot. "And how the hell did you hurt your foot?"

"I slipped outside," he lied as he grimaced. He was going to feel that in the morning.

"Amanda and Mrs. Skinner have been worried sick about you two for the last hour," she countered, and she glared between the two of them.

"What time is it?" Kyle asked as he looked at his wrist. He wasn't wearing a watch.

"It's almost seven, but we've been looking for you since the storm started over an hour ago," she snapped as she turned back to her son. "Now what were you two doing up here that was so important?"

"I left my cellphone," Kyle spoke up. Mrs. Erikson turned to him with a brow raised. "You know how kids these days, can't live without them," he meekly added.

"You haven't been here since Monday," she shot back. "Why didn't you ask to pick it up yesterday?"

"I, um, I kinda forgot," he squeaked as he shrunk back from her glare. "But I wanted to take some pictures of the storm, so I had Jack take me up here. Honest, Mrs. Erikson," he argued as he straightened himself up. He found courage in speaking the truth. "It wasn't Jack's fault."

Mrs. Erikson glared between the two of them before she sighed and released her hold on her son. She pinched the bridge of her nose and slowly shook her head.

"You are so grounded, Jack," she muttered, and then she looked to Kyle. "And your mother is going to have a fit when she sees you."

"It's not my mom I'm afraid of," Kyle replied in an equally hushed tone.

"Well, either way I need to call your mom and see that you get home tonight," she announced as she went to phone his parents.

After she had left, Kyle sidestepped up to Jack and his pale face showed how much he dreaded seeing his family.

"My grandma's gonna kill me," he groaned.

"After what we just went through, you're still afraid of her?" Jack asked.

"I can run from that, but there's no escaping her," he grumbled, and they heard Mrs. Erikson speak on the phone.

"Yes, I found them both up here. Yes, most definitely. When can we expect you? What?" The tone in her voice changed and the boys peeked into the lobby to see her eyes looking out the window. "If you don't think you can. Yes, it'll be all right with me. It's the least I can do to help you. No, it's no problem. See you tomorrow." She slowly hung up the phone and the companions quietly walked up to her. "It looks like the road up here is only getting worse with all that rain pouring down, so Mrs. Skinner wants Kyle to stay the night."

"Saved for a night," he thanked as he gave a small prayer.

"But only for a night," Mrs. Erikson commented. She stepped around the desk and took a peek through the large windows. "But it is pretty bad out there," she agreed as the pouring rain cascaded off the roof.

Silence settled among them as the only noise they heard was the hard pattering of the rain against the glass. Occasionally a lightning bolt jumped across the sky, followed by its much louder brother as thunder echoed around the inn. Then Kyle's stomach suddenly growled.

"I suppose I should feed you two," she spoke, and she turned to glance between the two troublemakers. She frowned at their filthy clothes. "Or maybe you should just change your clothes and go to bed."

"But I won't be able to sleep, Mrs. Erikson," Kyle argued while his stomach rumbled again. "I can't ever sleep on an empty stomach. You don't want me eating Jack, do you?" Jack frowned at this suggestion.

"I suppose that would bring up too many questions from the police," she jokingly agreed. The boys held their breaths until she sighed and flung up her arms. "Fine, I'll feed you two," she gave in, but their celebration was short-lived when she scowled. "But then I'm shoving you into Jack's room and you won't leave it until tomorrow morning."

"Agreed," Kyle spoke on their behalf.

The agreement was carried out and the boys, with their stomachs filled, were marched upstairs. Mrs. Erikson was surprised by how clingy they were when they suggested she wait for them to shower and take their filthy clothes. She couldn't even go to her own bedroom for a moment as whichever boy wasn't in the shower chatted with her about any subject they could find. She was finally able to escape with their clothes when both had cleaned themselves and were attired for bed.

Jack locked the door behind her and he turned to his friend.

"Your mom's kinda scary when she's mad," Kyle commented after her footsteps had faded down the hall. He dove on the bed and pulled out his cellphone. "Want to see what we found?" he asked as he began browsing through the photos.

"I've got enough of those pictures in my mind, thanks," Jack countered. He limped over to the windows. The storm outside thundered while he thought about that shadow he'd seen standing in the darkness. He could think of only one person who would follow them through that hell, but he didn't understand why he hadn't done any more than that. "Not even sure how I'm going to get any sleep..." he mumbled.

"After some good food and clean clothes, I'm ready to tackle anything," his friend cheerily informed, but then he suddenly scowled at a few of the pictures. "This is weird."

"I give, what?" Jack took the bait and asked. Maybe the distraction would be a good thing.

"I got some pictures of those bookcases in the east wing, and it looks like there's a few missing," he explained, and he pointed to a few empty spots on the shelves. Jack had to squint at the small picture, but he had to agree there were a few shadows between the books where there shouldn't have been any.

"Maybe the Olsens sold them before they left," Jack suggested with a shrug. He really didn't want to be reminded of their harrowing adventure. "But isn't there anything else we can talk about?"

"Nothing this interesting," Kyle argued as he pondered the significance. "I wonder if your grandpa swiped them," he mused. This wasn't a topic Jack wanted to discuss tonight.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," he countered as he sat down on the bed. "Or do anything but talk about what happened."

"Fine," his friend gave in. Kyle closed his phone and glanced around the room. Many of the boxes still weren't unpacked, so there really wasn't much for him to look at. "You still got those books I gave you?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. He eagerly walked over to the desk and opened the drawer.

Kyle was curious when his companion's face became distorted with confusion and fear.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and he raised himself to get a view into the drawer. He still couldn't see anything wrong. "My books gone or something?"

Jack was silent as he raised a shaking hand and dipped it into the drawer. He pulled it up to reveal the red flashlight he had tossed aside in the passage.

"What the hell?" Kyle exclaimed, and he scrambled over to Jack. He grabbed the tool and turned it around in his hand. "This...this is definitely mine," he confirmed, and he looked up into Jack's pale face. "But how?"

For Jack, there was only one explanation. He just didn't know how he'd done all that crazy stuff with the shadows and dragging them through the bones.

"My grandpa," Jack whispered and he shook his head. "It was him down there with us. He probably rigged up some booby traps down there or something."

"If that was a trap, why didn't it kill us or hurt us?" Kyle pointed out.

"Maybe this one malfunctioned, or maybe it was just meant to scare us."

"So he knows we were down there?" the other boy squeaked, and Jack clutched his head in one hand. "Jesus, Jack, what the hell are we gonna do? If he catches us we're dead for sure."

"No..." Jack slowly replied, and he let out a small shudder. "I don't think he's going to do that." He turned up to look his friend in the eyes. "If he wanted to kill us, he would've done it in that tunnel." Kyle couldn't argue, but he was still confused.

"So why didn't he?"

Jack couldn't find an answer to that question as he looked to the floor and shook his head. His mind was still to jumbled with the nightmares of that cavern as he thought of those poor souls in rest beneath the hidden passage of the sealed-off east wing. There was no rhyme or reason to any of this, nothing to tell him what sanity might lay beneath the surface of madness. Worse yet, he couldn't remove his memories of that place, or that dark shadow rising up from the bones.

"Maybe...maybe all of this," Kyle wondered as he tapped the flashlight, "maybe it's a warning. Maybe he just wants us to stay out of there."

"Not that we needed one," Jack mumbled, and he limped over to the bed. He eased himself onto the covers and clasped his head in his hands. Without the adrenaline and fear he'd felt in the underground passage, he was left with nothing but the overwhelming sadness of those countless deaths. "I don't think we're going to be going back there."

"Yeah, it was a fluke we found that stuff to begin with," his friend agreed. His eyes lit up as he suddenly snapped his fingers. "It was a trap!" he exclaimed. He jumped over and grabbed Jack's shoulders. "All that stuff we found, you really think it was just a bunch of coincidences?" he asked as he shook him.

"I'll believe anything if you just let go of me," Jack protested while he knocked back his friend's hands. "But what are you going on about?"

"What if your grandpa led us into that place?" he eagerly explained. "The wall closing behind us in the stairwell, me tripping over the hatch, the person who came through the door and scared you into the tunnel. What if he planned all this?"

"That makes even less sense than him scaring us out," Jack pointed out. "Why the hell would he want us to see that?"

"I, um, I don't really know that part," Kyle admitted and he frowned. "He probably knew about all those bodies down there. Hell, maybe they're his victims," he suggested as he shuddered. There were a lot of corpses down there.

"Those people were down there for a while," Jack reminded him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. "I didn't even see any clothes on them."

"Well, what if he came here a long time ago?" he urged, and he snapped his fingers again. He was full of moments of epiphany tonight. "That'd be how he'd know about all these secret passages and why he has a key to the east wing!"

"My god, Kyle, are you listening to yourself?" Jack shot back as he stood to his feet. He could feel his heart beginning to pound faster in his chest, but he didn't care right now. He was too tired to care. "All this stuff about the people down there and my grandpa, what does it matter? Why does any of this matter?"

"Jack!" Kyle yelled when his friend suddenly clutched at his chest and stumbled backwards.

The bed was a soft landing as Jack tried to curl into a ball. The pain was more intense than he remembered. His breaths came out in gasps as his looked to his companion.

"My mom," he gasped out, and nodded toward the door.

"Right," Kyle understood. He shot out of the room and his feet pounded down the hall.

Jack shut his eyes and clenched his teeth while he tried to will away the excruciating, stabbing pain in his chest. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins and his lungs were burning out as they tried to keep up with his rasping breaths. He was overjoyed when he heard the door close and looked up to find an unexpected surprise.

His grandfather was striding over to him and Jack flinched when he knelt at his side and pulled out another vial of the liquid. Jack would have none of that, so he struggled against the pain to shuffle back from his grandfather. His elderly relation was undeterred, however, and Jack was grabbed behind his neck and dragged forward. The container was stuffed into his mouth and his jaw was held shut until he swallowed the contents. Then Jack turned his head away when his grandfather pulled the empty vial away.

"What's wrong with me?" he coughed out. He barely heard his own voice as he shuddered when the cool liquid passed down his body. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

His grandfather only watched him until he was satisfied, and then he stood to his feet. They heard the clock begin to chime and his relation stiffened as Jack saw him count the hour. He relaxed when the chimes died away after nine strikes sounded.

"Waiting for it to strike twelve?" Jack surmised. He'd been counting the chimes, too.

"It will, but not tonight," his grandfather replied as he looked down at him. Jack felt his heart skip a beat and his hands gripped the covers. His anxiety did not go unnoticed. "The attacks will become more frequent with each dose, but you can only combat them by remaining calm."

"Then I don't need that stuff," Jack shot back. He was starting to feel groggy, but his anger was keeping him awake. "It's not worth it."

"We haven't time for bickering," he countered. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and then returned to Jack. "Every strength has a weakness, and the pain is merely a single side-effect for much greater benefits."

Jack looked to the door and heard his mother and Kyle pounding on the door and calling to him. Their voices sounded so far away, like background noise, but he heard they were discussing a master key to open the door. Even if he had the energy to call out to them, his voice was not up to the challenge.

"I want to know what's happening to me," Jack rasped. "I want to know what you're not telling me." He coughed a little as he heard faint footsteps pounding down the hall.

He flinched when his grandfather suddenly knelt again, and now their faces were only inches apart. He was too weak to move away.

"Listen to me, Jack," he quietly instructed. Jack couldn't look away as he looked into those glasses. They reflected his pale, scared face. "The questions in life worth finding the answers to are those which require effort. If you move too fast to find your answers, you will fall apart." Jack shook his head. He didn't understand what his grandfather was saying. "I can only assist you within the bounds that have been placed on me by...by something," he vaguely explained. "Everything else must be done by your own will."

Suddenly the sound in the room was magnified and Jack heard the footsteps frantically return. Keys jingled on a ring as his grandfather stood and stepped away from the bed toward the windows. A key was placed in the lock and he turned his head to watch the door open. His friend and mother dashed into the room and over to his bed. He looked to where his grandfather had last stood and found no one there.

"Jack!" his mother exclaimed as she looked him over. "Are you all right?!"

"Sorry," he rasped as he slowly sat up. He was only now starting to feel better and he gave them a weak smile.. "I didn't think I could get up."

"And you won't!" she insisted as she pushed him back down. "You feel like death warmed over," she scolded. She felt his forehead and shook her head. "No fever, but you're so pale. How do you feel?" she questioned even as she tested his pulse.

"Like I just had a panic attack," Jack replied with a laugh which ended in a cough. "Kinda stupid of me."

"No, not stupid at all," she encouraged and tears welled up in her eyes. She was relieved when Kyle slipped around his other side and gave his own perusal. "But please don't scare me like that," she begged. She moved some of the covers out from beneath him. "You're all I've got."

"Sorry," he again apologized. He didn't know what else to say.

"Well, as long as you're feeling better," his mother soothed him. She pressed the back of her hand softly against his cheek. Her cheeks glistened with her tears now. "Just...just get some sleep, okay?"

"Definitely," he replied with as much effort as he could muster.

"You sure you don't want me to stay up with you two until you go to sleep?" Emily asked him, but he shook his head. He was rewarded when she smiled at him, stood to her feet and looked to Kyle. "I'm going to trust you to look after him tonight, okay?"

"No problem, Mrs. Erikson," he agreed with a solemn nod. "If anything happens again, I'll come get you."

"Thanks," she appreciated.

She gave one last, long look at her son before she bid them both goodnight and reluctantly left. The minute they heard her own bedroom door shut, Kyle glanced down at his pale friend.

"What really happened?" he quietly asked, knowing the wall was thin. Jack tried to think up some excuse or half truth, but his friend was faster than him. "You're a terrible liar, Jack, and I know a panic attack when I see one. That wasn't one, and I know that door wasn't locked when I left," he added.

"I'd say you wouldn't believe me, but after tonight you'd believe anything," Jack hoarsely replied.

"I always believed you," his companion countered, and he sat down on the bed. "Now 'fess up so we can get some sleep," he insisted.

Jack retold the story from start to finish, but he again excluded the vial of medicine. There was something so unnatural about it that he felt anyone would be repulsed by his mentioning it. He instead glossed over his recovery by insinuating time had given him help in regaining his health. When he finished, his friend shook his head.

"You're in deep trouble, Jack," he commented as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No kidding," Jack weakly shot back as he coughed. He sat up with his back against the high pillows. "But I don't know what to do. He made no sense."

"I think you're going to find out what he's talking about soon," Kyle predicted as he rubbed his chin. "And I don't think you're gonna like it."

"I haven't so far," he pointed out with a short, barking laugh. They both cringed at the loud noise, but they heard nothing from the other side of the wall. Jack lowered his voice. "So I guess I just have to wait."

"We just have to wait," Kyle emphasized. He gave his companion a stern glance. "Remember? We're in this together."

"I don't want you to be in this," Jack argued as he shook his head. "This isn't your battle. This is between me and family."

Kyle paused and stared hard at him for a long moment before he suddenly stood. He walked over to his bag and surprised Jack by pulling out a retractable blade from one of the smaller inner pockets.

"How about we fix that part about family?" he asked him, and he came back to the bed. "As my grandma always says, blood's thicker than water."

"What are you talking about?" Jack questioned. He pulled away when his friend sat down and leaned over to him. The blade popped out and glistened in the light. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're not that young that you don't know about a blood pact," Kyle commented, and he held out his naked arm. "This'll make sure you can't make that argument again."

"It isn't that easy, Kyle," he protested as he uneasily watched the knife. He didn't want Kyle to have any part of this, and most especially his blood. Not after drinking so much of the 'medicine.' "I promised you last Monday I'd stick around, and I still don't think I'm going to go anywhere," he reminded.

"No, but you're gonna to do it all on your own, and that's gonna to get you six feet under," he pointed out. Jack cringed when Kyle made a small cut in his index finger. A prick of blood swelled from the wound. "Besides, it's not like any of us has any diseases or anything, right?" he pressed.

"N-no," Jack replied as he put on a poor poker face. He didn't really know what he had, but it was definitely something he didn't want to share. "It's just...I don't like blood."

"Jack, I'm a lot more stubborn than you are," his friend argued. "We're gonna do this the easy way, or I'm gonna bug the hell out of you until you agree. Take your pick."

"Isn't there a third option?"

"Nope, only two doors," Kyle informed Jack. He gestured for his companion to hold out his finger. "Now let's see it."

Jack was almost prepared to plead mercy, but there was only a stubborn single-minded look in Kyle's eyes when he glanced at him for comfort. He closed his eyes and sighed before he held out his hand. He really wasn't lying about the blood part, and he turned his head away before his friend pricked a small hole in his finger. Jack shivered as his friend brushed their fingers together for a fraction of a moment, and then the deed was done.

"There, ya big baby," Kyle scolded, and he put away his knife. "Not that hard, was it?"

"You have no idea," he muttered as he stared at the wound. He wished he knew what he'd just done.

Kyle wiped away the blood on his borrowed jeans, but he paused when he noticed his friend stiffly sitting there. He rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom to retrieve some paper towels, and he cleaned the wound in one swipe.

"There," he complimented his own job. "All done, and no more excuses. Well, at least not that one," he added. He frowned when he noticed Jack's dejected face, but instead of feeling down he leaned over the bed and gave his friend a hard knock on the head.

"What the hell?" Jack protested. He rubbed his head and glared at his companion. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Because you need a good whack now and then, blood brother," Kyle explained with a solemn nod. "You start getting into these moods and you'll never get out."

"Since when did you become a psychologist?" he sarcastically questioned.

"Since about five minutes ago," his friend commented, and she looked at the alarm clock. "And I bill at a hundred and fifty bucks an hour, so you'd better brood quick."

"That's extortion," Jack argued, but his humor was returning.

"That's profit," Kyle countered. He stretched out his arms and cracked his back a few times. "And that ends our lesson on free-market business for the day. We'll continue this lesson tomorrow after I get some sleep."

"Yeah, my mom's probably gonna check on us soon, anyway," Jack agreed. He watched his friend settle down on the covers and inflatable mattress they had put for him on the floor. "Goodnight, Kyle," he yawned, and the lights were shut off.

"Night, Jack," he returned.

Even against the threat of nightmares, both boys were soon asleep, and the day dawned without them as they slept through the early morning. Mrs. Erikson didn't wake them until almost nine o'clock, and only then because she feared Mrs. Skinner would arrive soon.

"Come on, sleepy heads," she teased as she opened the door. She was greeted by several voices groaning in unison and she dropped off the clothes from last night, now spotlessly clean. "Continental breakfast in fifteen minutes, or I eat it all myself," she threatened, and then she left.

"Is she lying?" the lump known as Kyle asked his lumpy friend.

"No," Jack replied beneath his own covers. "She'll hide it in the fridge and eat it all."

"Damn," his friend mumbled, and Kyle threw off the sheets. "Guess it's time for my last meal."

"It was nice knowing you, Kyle," Jack complimented as he revealed his head out from the blankets. "Mind if I get your stereo?"

"The joke's on you, I haven't got a dime," Kyle countered, and he began to prepare himself for breakfast. "Just my classic bike and this bag."

"Never mind, I'd have to sell that stuff to someone to get rid of them," Jack teased.

"The bad jokes are my lines," his companion complained as he admired the clean clothes. "Dang, your mom's good."

"Yeah, but she's gonna be mad if we don't hurry," he pointed out. They both scrambled to get downstairs before the food disappeared into the depths of the fridge.

They made it down with time to spare and were just finishing up when Mrs. Skinner drove up the drive. Kyle and Jack held back in the lobby while Mrs. Erikson went out to greet her and give more heartfelt apologies.

"I think our adventure's over now, Jack," Kyle mourned, and he hefted his bag over his shoulders.

"I don't know about that," Jack replied as he looked over his shoulder. He swore the shadows flickered for a moment before they disappeared into the depths of the east wing. "I think it's just beginning."

"Yeah, well, call me when we get to the good parts," his friend countered.

"And that will happen one day after your grounding ends," Mrs. Skinner commented when she and Mrs. Erikson stepped inside. "Because your cellphone privileges are revoked until then."

"Aw, mom," Kyle whined.

"Enough of that, get in the car."

He was marched into the vehicle and when they pulled he forlornly waved out the window. Then he smashed his face against the glass and the car dipped down over the hill.

"You have such a strange friend, Jack," his mom noted.

"Yeah, tell me about it." He glanced up at her. "And speaking of grounding, what's my sentence?"

"I haven't decided yet, but you're definitely not allowed to go out on your own."

"Why's that?" Jack's heart skipped a beat. Maybe she knew about the whole cavern episode and his grandpa's creepy traps.

"Because Mrs. Skinner told me about some cows that were attacked last night." Jack cringed when images of mutilated cows came to mind, but at least now he didn't have to wonder why his grandfather had warned him to stay out of the woods. "The farmer scared whatever it was away, but no one's been able to find it to kill it." She sighed and shook her head as she turned to her son. "What a place I've moved you to, hunh?"

Jack glanced up at the trees as a cool breeze swept passed them and out onto the green forest beyond view. He thought of the friends he'd made and the adventures he'd had, and he smiled.

"Yeah, what a place."
Acknowledgments

Thank you for reading this book, your support is very much appreciated! Without your support, I wouldn't be writing anything, so there's always room for you in my dedications.

I know your time is valuable and I sincerely thank you for finishing this novel! If you would take a brief moment to return to where you purchased the book and leave a review it would be much appreciated! Reviews help new readers find my work and accurately decide if the book is for them as well as provide valuable feedback for my future writing.

Thank you again, and be sure to check out the sequels in the Catalyst Series!

If you're curious about my other books, you can find a comprehensive list to all my stories by clicking on over to my website or sign-up for my newsletter to receive news of the latest releases!

Other Books by Heidi Willard

The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1)

Blood Guardians (Blood Guardians #1)

Plagued Sleep (Blood Guardians #2)

Weathering Tides (Blood Guardians #3)

Freed Souls (Blood Guardians #4)

Hawthorn Inn (The Catalyst #1)

Sanctuary (The Catalyst #2)

Ghost Woods (The Catalyst #3)

Chimes of Midnight (The Catalyst #4)

Beneath the Valley (The Catalyst #5)
