Chapter 8

10:57PM

"Where did they go?" Rose asked Emmett as they reached the bottom of the stairwell, "Jasper and Alice were right behind us."

Emmett looked both directions; the thought of Betty's warning did not even register that they should not be down here. The only thing that he could focus on was the smell of rotten eggs. Emmett sucked in his breath, relieved that he did not have the need to breathe. He looked over to Rose who was not only holding her breath but also had her shirt wrapped around her nose.

Emmett's ears perked up when he heard the sounds of heavy breathing. He knew someone was following them, and he would bet that it was not his family. With a glance back up the stairs, he took hold of Rosalie's hand and ran forward, down the hall, and then past three doors before veering into another hall on his left.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he just entered something far different from an ordinary basement. The rooms, for one thing; there were far too many of them. And if these halls were any indication, the space reached way beyond what he thought was a reasonable size for the house above them.

Rose pulled up short and made Emmett lose her hand. She took a look at her surroundings. Something was wrong, she knew it. Someone was after them and wanted them dead, but why were they running? Why couldn't she and Emmett just tear the person apart? She had never harmed a human in all of her existence, except for the garbage that raped her. At that moment, she realized that she did not care who she would need to kill. It did not register in her head that they were trapped down in a basement that was wet and stunk like rotting eggs. The light was dim; she actually had to squint to make heads of where she and Emmett were.

"Rose, come on," Emmett said quietly.

"There is something wrong here," Rose hissed back. For the first time, she felt truly scared. Not from fear of the killer, but from the fact that they were lost.

She placed her hand on Emmett's bicep and the two of them sped forward, around a corner, through a doorway, into a smaller hall, to the end, and then were confronted by a door on their left and another on their right.

"Which should we take?" Emmett asked in her ear.

Rose chose the one on her right.

Emmett closed the door behind them, slightly wondering if the door could be unlocked from the other side, but he supposed it didn't matter right then. He turned his attention to Rose, who was just staring into the room, frozen. He could hear her take in a sharp breath.

"Rose?" Emmett asked, coming up from behind her.

"I've been here before," Rose said as she took in the room. Emmett followed her every move.

Déjà vu swarmed into her mind; it was so strong that she could not separate it from reality.

Rose stepped onto the thick Turkish rug. Purple and orange were the first colors she saw, but they were quickly joined by a surprising array of improbable colors for a windowless room tucked away in the corner of some basement. Bright colors of greens, blues, and reds.

"What do you mean you've been here before?" Emmett asked as he watched Rose walk farther in the room, almost in a trance-like state.

"It's my room," Rose said no louder than a whisper, "Just as I remember it. Like they are still waiting, hoping that I will come home."

Emmett took hold of Rose's wrist and pulled her closer to him. Her eyes never looked at him, but always somewhere else in the room.

"Rose, snap out of it." He breathed his sweet breath into her face, in hopes to dazzle her. "This is not your room, Rose. It is some kind of mind game."

Rose wiggled herself free from her husband's grasp, the room pulling her farther in. It was not the colors that pulled her forward. The room had a texture that was reassuring. Almost safe in its limited power to undo her. It was like facing a familiar monster and knowing that no matter what it did, you were better than it, and you would be able to walk away alive. So really you were safe. In control, even.

This room emboldened her. Rose had been here before and walked away from whatever horror it contained to tell her story. This room was what made her who she is today. It made her stronger and able to rise above all those other women who had suffered the same tragedy before her.

"Come on, Rose, this room is freaking me out," Emmett still stood in his place by the door, unsure of what Rose really saw. All he could see was the obvious: the walls, furnishings, a rug. Nothing that seemed particularly important. But he knew something was pulling his wife away from him.

Rose walked over to the king sized canopy bed, with the tattered red velvet drapes that hung against the main wall. A thick lavender comforter with no fewer than a dozen holes chewed in by rats. Rose reached out and placed her hand on the comforter, a patchwork of satin and velvet.

"It's older looking now," Rose mused to herself, "Time stood still but kept moving at the same time. Why?"

"Rose, I don't understand," Emmett took a few steps to close the gap between the two of them, "It is just a room in some creepy old house. Whatever you see, it is all in your head."

Rose turned on her heel and looked into Emmett's eyes. "No, this is not simply my imagination. I have been here before." The growl that came from her chest made Emmett even more worried and he took a couple of steps back.

Emmett turned his attention to the room to try and see what it was captivating Rose so deeply. Swaths of red and purple and blue material had been hung from the ceiling to hide the mildewed concrete, which still showed in wide gaps. The room was lit by several strings of little lights, much like those that you would put on a Christmas tree – someone's attempt at ambient lighting. If this was any other room in any other house, it might actually be romantic. Emmett looked at the huge bed. Yep, they could be rolling around in that bed, if it were anywhere else but here.

Rose went over to the white dresser that was opposite the bed. It had a mirror, the kind with little pink flowers all over it that would be found in a little girl's room. Well actually, it was her dresser and mirror in her room when she was younger.

The walls were cluttered with painted portraits, mirrors, china plates and candles. Lots of candles. In fact, several dozen or so. That was when she saw it. Emmett could hear her breathing stop and looked up to follow her gaze. A giant pentagram was painted on the wall, centered with the candles on either side. He decided that he really did not like this room one bit.

"Rose, let's go find the others," Emmett began to plead, until his eyes found one other feature of the room that stood out to him. Two pinball machines stood in a corner. One was Batman and the other was Barbie. Mounted on the wall beside them was a giant dartboard that spun on an axis; the same kind that you would find at a circus for a knife throwing act.

"Cool," Emmett said and then walked over to the pinball machines, "It takes quarters. Figures. Hey, Rose, do you have any change?"

A smell caught his attention and he saw that it had also caught Rose's, as she held her nose up in the air, taking in a deep breath. The sweet scent of roses mixed with vanilla commanded her attention.

Rose was in a crouch position, sniffing the air, looking for its source. She had become transfixed by the odd blend of terror and desire. Half of her mind screamed for her to run, to escape the house and its bizarre inhabitants and this crazy game. She stayed crouched though, ready to pounce if the need be.

Another part of her mind told her that she should just breathe in deep and let the aroma calm her frayed mind and nerves. She tilted her head to the side, trying to recognize the scent. She came up to a standing position, her eyes wide. Her grandmother had kept the stuffed pillows in her old house scented with vanilla and potpourri, and the scent had always brought a cleansing calm to Rose, even in the worst of times.

"Smells sort of like Bella," Emmett finally said, looking back to the pinball machine to see if he could get it to work without money.

"It smells nothing like her," Rose said, "It reminds me of my grandmother."

"How is it that you have so many memories of your human years?" Rose just shrugged. "It's this room, Rose. I told you I don't like it. It almost seems like the whole house is messing with our heads or something, confusing us."

"Emmett, you already had that problem."

Rose continued to walk slowly around the room. There had to be some kind of explanation for the eerie familiarity of this room. If she slowed and applied her mind, she'd be able to make sense of it all.

Emmett just watched Rose as she walked over to the dresser and bent over for a whiff from the bowl of potpourri. The pungent odor of lavender and vanilla worked deep into her sinuses. No more roses. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Emotion swelled; for a moment, she even thought that she would be able to cry, if it were at all possible. Then again, look where she was. Rose would not have been surprised if wet liquid did actually fill her eyes. She swallowed hard and bit down on her lip.

She was here for a reason, wasn't she? There was no way that her entire family could have taken a wrong turn and found themselves in such a strange house without some elaborate plan drawing them in. Whoever this stalker or killer was, he wasn't your usual Jason-with-a-machete variety. That much she knew. He was a thinker, a planner. His mind ran much deeper.

Another scent mixed in with the vanilla, and Rose opened her eyes. There was a bowl of cream next to a candle. Without even thinking about it, she took the book of matches that were sitting on the dresser and lit the candle.

The cream called out to her. She lifted it up, bringing it closer to her nose, and inhaled deeply. It was not cream at all, but vanilla pudding, laced with the scent of caramel. In another time, she would have dipped her finger into it and tasted it. But now, the thought repulsed her. She placed it back on the dresser. A noise came from the closet and Emmett was next to Rose in seconds.

The closet door opened behind them. They both spun around to see who it was that had intruded in on them and found their hiding spot.

A man that neither of them had ever seen stood in the doorway, his eyes dancing between Emmett and Rose, but finally resting on Rose.

Time seemed to have stopped as they all took in each other. Neither Emmett nor Rose seemed threatened in anyway, or at least not yet.

"My room," The man said finally, his voice filled with pride. He released the door to the closet and stepped farther into the room. Emmett instinctively pulled Rose closer to himself.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Emmett asked, sizing the stranger up. He appeared to not be any older than twenty; there was a boyish quality to him, slow even.

"Pete," he nodded his head, "Do you like my room?"

Rose looked at Emmett, wondering if they should play along or run. They knew that Pete would never be able to catch up to them, but run where?

Rose lifted her head and smiled, she would play his game. After all, neither she nor Emmett could die. "Yes, Pete I do like your room."

Pete lit up like the sun. He rushed over to the bed and straightened out the comforter, then picked up a candle that had fallen to the floor and busily reinserted it into its holder. All the while, never once letting his eyes leave Rose's face.

Emmett cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. When Pete finished, he clapped his hands behind his back as if to say, 'There now it's perfect.'

"We will have to be quiet," Pete said, his eyes flittering to the door, "Mama will hear. She can't come here."

Rose and Emmett looked at each other; there was really no threat here. Pete was nothing more than an overgrown child. This, Rose knew she could handle. But then again, she was tired of playing these mind games. She seemed unable to tell what was real anymore. She looked over to the locked door. Emmett should just take this guy out now and be done with it. One dead body and that one body was standing right in front of them. Neither of them had ever killed a human before, or at least not like this.

Rose leaned into Emmett and hissed so Pete would not hear, "Play smart. Keep your cool. Don't kill him now, he is so innocent."

She straightened back up and clasped her hands together in front of her, "Yes, Pete. I like your room very much."

Pete's face turned a deep crimson. He eased into a large stuffed recliner, leaned forward and watched her as if he weren't sure what to do with his catch.

Rose pulled from Emmett and began to examine the room more closely, all the while very conscious of the fact Pete's eyes were following her every move. Rose had become used to guys worshipping her, but for some reason, in this house, she found it slightly uncomfortable. She looked over to Emmett and saw that he was still standing in the same spot by the dresser, eyes fixed on Pete, ready to pounce at any moment.

"Where did you get the potpourri?" she asked.

It might be an odd question, especially to Emmett who just gave her a glance, but it was smart question. Occupy him, so when the time came to take Pete down, he would not even know it happened. Then again, none of their prey ever saw them coming.

"The what?" Pete asked.

"This," Rose held up the small bowl, "it smells so good."

His unblinking eyes stay fixed on his prize, "It's for you."

"Oh," Rose started. He had so much innocence. "Thank you. Where did it come from?"

"The house."

Rose's eyes moved up to the ceiling, "You mean upstairs?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders, "Sometimes. There are other houses. Do you like the pictures?"

Rose put the bowl that she was holding down and then went to her left where a large portrait was hanging. Emmett's eyes were still fixed on Pete. "Yes. Do you know any of these people?"

"No. But I won't be lonely anymore." Rose turned and looked at him. She knew what the meaning of his words were without the need to ask. He was planning on them not leaving. Or by his eyes, at least not her. She needed to keep him distracted.

"I especially like the dresser. It reminds me so much of my…" Rose stopped in front of the mirror, her voice trailing off.

Her brow furrowed together. Emmett caught on to the lack of breath and walked over to her to see what had made her stop.

The mirror had no reflection. Emmett waved his hands in front of his face and then looked over where Rose's reflection should be. He could not see either of them. He could see the room, but not them. Rose looked at Emmett and then turned to Pete.

"There is something wrong with your mirror," Rose stated.

"It doesn't work." Obviously.

"But I can see everything else." Rose turned to look at the mirror again. Emmett was still flinging his arms through the air. "I just can't see us."

"It's broken."

Rose shrugged her shoulders, probably just as well; she knew that her reflection could probably scare someone away anyway. She knew she was a mess.

"Maybe we really don't have reflections," Emmett said in a low voice. Rose just rolled her eyes. She knew that she had a reflection; she spent half of her existence looking in mirrors.

"Can I ask you some questions, Pete?" Rose turned away from the mirror, it was creeping her out to not be able to see herself.

"Yes, we can talk. I would like that." Pete unbuttoned the bib portion of his overalls and removed his shirt, flexing his muscles and grinning from ear to ear.

A low growl escaped from Emmett and Rose reached out to calm him.

"Do you think I am strong?" Pete asked.

Rose stood frozen at his question and display of actions. She was caught short of disgust for this human. She saw Pete's smile fade. Just play the game, Rose, her mind said.

"Yes, I…you are strong." Emmett turned and gave her an amused grin.

"I can throw you," Pete said, his smile returning.

Rose could hear the chuckle building in Emmett's chest before she replied, "Yes, I suppose…"

"Look!" Pete ran over to the closet and pulled out a bag of dog food, "Cereal. It makes you strong."

Rose swallowed hard as she looked at the bag, "I'm…sure it does. Pete, how long have you lived here?"

"Do you want to be strong, too?"

Emmett's laughter finally broke through his chest. Rose glared at him, then went back to focus on Pete. Pete's face, it appeared, did not even register or show any interest in Emmett. It was like Emmett was not even in the room with them, as far as Pete was concerned.

If only Pete knew how strong she really was. "Maybe. But can we talk first?"

Pete carried the large bag of food over to her and then picked up Rose's left hand, placing it on his chest, flexing his muscles underneath. This was going too far in her opinion. But she was still going to play his game, if that meant everyone would get out of this alive.

Rose slowly moved her fingers over Pete's chest; Emmett's mouth dropped open. This was going much further than he would ever have thought. He was ready to rip this vile human apart. But he had promised Rose that he would behave.

"Wow," She said and she actually meant it to a point, the feeling of his chest was almost familiar. It was hard, cool and smooth, much like… Her eyes quickly went to Emmett, then back to Pete. His skin was white, almost translucent, but it showed no veins; soft like rose petals, but just below the surface of the skin, rock hard muscles. She breathed in deeply, but there was no scent. If he were one of them, it was only skin deep.

"Yes, you are so strong." She began to second guess how hard it would be to rip Pete up. Maybe he was not the one they could use to get out of this house.

Pete smiled, "Thank you." But he did not move. He breathed into Rose's face immediately she held her breath; it was stale, dead-smelling.

Rose was eager to change the subject; she stepped away from Pete, Emmett matching her movements. "So how long have you lived here?"

"Do you want to be strong like—"

"Pete, I want to learn more about you and this house so that my husband and I can get out." Rose was beginning to get frustrated now, "Please."

"A long time."

"Where did you come from?" She wanted to ask him who created him.

He frowned as if trying to remember, "The circus. We were gypsies and did fun things. But then Stewart killed a man and his Mama. I killed a man, too. Have you done that?"

"Actually, I have." Rose said without any emotion, "Several. But I don't think killing is good. How many people have you killed?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders, but then smiled. "White kills people, too. He's really strong."

Now they were getting somewhere. "Who's White?"

Pete became confused, "White?"

"Yes, who is he?"

"I think he is going to kill us if we don't find the girl."

Now it was time for both Rose and Emmett to be confused. "What girl?" Rose asked.

"Susan."

"There's a girl hiding down here?"

The light left Pete's eyes; they turned dark as coal. His expression shifted from innocent little boy to irritation.

"You don't like Susan, do you?" Rose asked Pete. For some reason, the thought just occurred to her and needed to be asked.

"She's worse than White." Pete mused.

"Worse than the killer? What does she do?"

Pete's expression darkened even more. The flesh below his eyes sagged and he stared at her, then over to Emmett; he almost looked like he might be sick. "You can't trust her." The he screamed an ear piercing scream, that actually penetrated Emmett and Rose's sensitive hearing. As quickly as it had started, it ended.

Pete opened his eyes and stared at the two of them; the look of being lost was prominent on his face.

Rose opened her mouth and then clamped it shut. She began to wonder if she should continue. There was nothing else to lose. "Why does White want you to kill her?"

No answer; just the blank stare of dark eyes.

Rose stepped forward seductively; she opted to use her 'talent' on him. "I need to know these things," she purred, "Why can't you find her? This is your house, your basement."

Pete's posture tensed, "I don't want to talk anymore."

She knew that she was beginning to lose, but continued on. Getting answers from him now would help her and Emmett later. "You have to tell me. I want to know about the girl. I have--"

"NO!!" he screamed. It was Emmett's turn to tense up.

The three of them squared off into a long silence. Pete still held the bag of dog food. He reached into it and pulled out a jar full of the stuff, then dropped the bag on the floor.

"Was my pudding no good?" Pete asked. Rose pushed her brow together, trying to figure out how this played into the game. "If you didn't like it I can make more."

He hurried to the closet and then emerged with a big bowl of water. Dumping the contents from the bag into the bowl.

"It'll make you strong like me," Pete said, smashing the mixture together.

Rose and Emmett looked on with disgust written all over their faces. Rose glanced over to the bowl of pudding on the dresser, the same one that she had held up to her nose, admiring its sweet smell. If she thought it was unappealing then, she really thought so now after knowing the ingredients.

"Eat it." Pete shoved the contents into her face. Emmett let out a low growl.

Rose looked at the bowl and examined its contents. It was not just dog food, but spoiled rotten dog food.

"I'm not hungry," Rose stated, making her point more clear by crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mama says it will make you strong. You need to be strong. Now eat it!"

Rose shook her head and Emmett stepped in front of her to block Pete from coming any closer to her.

"She said she did not want any," Emmett spoke in a stern, yet calm voice.

Pete's face fell and his jaw slackened. Rose could tell that he was hurt by their reaction to the meal he was offering. "Please eat it. Mama makes me eat and look, I am strong now."

"We don't eat dog food or any food for that matter." Emmett's voice was still low, but without the harsh tone from before.

Pete ignored Emmett and stepped closer to Rose. He dipped his hand into the mush taking out a glob, holding it in front of her. "Please. You need to eat it."

Rose held her ground, set her chin in stone, "I said no!"

Pete reached out and grabbed Rose by the hair and tried to force the food into her mouth. "You will eat it!"

Rose felt like she could have hurled when the taste of the rotten food crossed her lips. She looked up to Emmett who was standing behind Pete, just waiting for her to give him the order. But she was stronger than Pete; she could take control on her own. She had been through worse, after all.

Rose flung her arms out and then spit in Pete's face, "I said stop it!"

The bowl flew free and clambered to the ground, upside down on the concrete floor.

Pete stared at the mess on the floor in total shock; his face darkened. He slowly lifted his enraged eyes. Rose could tell immediately that she might have made a grave mistake. Emmett inched even closer, ready to take down his prey from behind. One bite, one feeding and he would be dealt with.

Pete lifted his fist like a hammer and slammed it down onto Rose's head. She staggered from the blow; it felt like all the times in which she had been in fights with her brothers. But she stayed standing.

Pete did not even flinch as his hand met up with the granite. Out of frustration, he screamed long and loud. Emmett growled immensely and crouched down, pouncing onto Pete. Emmett was done playing games.