So it turns out that not sleeping soundly for four years could turn your quick little nap into one that lasts nearly five hours. While Emery decided to just stay in his wrinkled clothes, Kimberly took full advantage of having a bath without a certain child demanding her attention every five seconds. She soaked for a good thirty minutes before actually washing up, coming back into the bedroom in only a towel.
"Wow, maybe we need to take these vacations more often," Emery quips, finally looking up from the book he'd brought along.
"What do you mean? I walk around in a towel at the apartment all the time." Most of them did, it was a side effect of usually forgetting pajamas in the mad rush to get Nicky clean. It's not like it was sexy, her cheeks were red from the heat of her bath water and she knew for a fact that a small streak of hair remained on her left leg even though she'd just shaved. I'll have to wax when we get home again, that always works better.
"Yeah, but I never get the chance to actually admire that at home." He waggles his brows suggestively and she laughs, feeling her cheeks heat up further in a dark blush. "That's all I have to do right now, ogle my wife and wonder how great I must've been in a past life to get someone so beautiful to marry me."
"Funny, I usually think the same thing about you." He scoffs and shakes his head, tugging on the lobe of his ear in a nervous habit. "You do realize how great you look, right? I've never seen someone that could actually pull off khaki pants, but then this guy shows up at my book signing doing exactly that."
"Yeah, and I was standing right behind him."
"Nah, the guy in front of you was one of those rude Christians that told me I had a first class ticket to hell." She makes a face at that particular memory, the man probably in his late seventies and brandishing his Bible like a weapon. "His parents obviously didn't raise him right because, as a Christian myself, I know there's a part in the Bible that says to treat people right."
"You're thinking of the golden rule."
"No, Jesus said it first." She lets the towel drop to the thick carpeting before pulling on fresh underwear and a simple red dress that was suited to casual gatherings. She slips her feet into the black flats and yanks a brush through her short hair before deciding to forgo any makeup for the night. She was still tired and didn't figure anyone actually cared about the amount of effort she put into her appearance anyway.
"You ready to head downstairs?"
"I guess," she sighs, the first one to the door. Emery tosses his book—Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire—onto the bed and follows after her. The book had come out last year, not exactly one of the best in the series but not awful either, and Emery was making sure it was appropriate for Nicky. Thus far, there had been no complaints other than boredom.
The trip downstairs holds no surprises or jump scares, which is something Kimberly will forever be grateful for. Most of the others are already gathered in the main parlor, dressed about as nicely as Kimberly as they roamed around—Cathy and Vic were sitting next to each other comparing Bibles, Joyce was looking over some equipment, and Nick was investigating some of the decorations.
"Well, you're a lively bunch."
"I think we've had just about as much liveliness in one day as a person can take," Nick remarks, sending her a smile over his shoulder. With a smile of her own, Kimberly moves to sit on one of the couches with her feet curled up beneath her, shoes forgotten on the ground. Emery drifts over to the organ, beginning to play a moment later just as he'd done for his church when he was younger.
"Do you like your room?" Pam, seated in a chair just a foot and a half away, shrugs with a nervous smile.
"It's the nicest one I've ever been in," she replies with a laugh. "I keep getting all these fantastic visions when I touch the blankets or even the lamps. Did you know one of the maids kept a small stash of jewelry hidden in secret compartment in there?"
"That's amazing, Pam."
"Did you see anything in your room?" Kimberly hesitates a moment, remembering the way Beatrice's face had lit up upon seeing her room for the very first time and the way she'd gushed at her older sister. "Kim?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. When we first approached the rooms, I saw my great-gran and Ellen talking about how much they missed each other during Ellen's honeymoon. It was just a memory like some of the others I've seen walking around here, but it was a strong one. Usually I only see them when I'm asleep." The ones of Bess and Frederick at any rate.
"Good emotions?"
"Great ones, yeah. Beatrice, my great-gran, and her husband's manor house burnt down not long after Ellen and John returned from their whirlwind honeymoon. They lived here for four years and had a little boy by the time they returned to Summer's End." Pam smiles, bright and infectious, at the story. "Bess and Frederick really loved each other and they loved their baby. They were one of those rare couples that could stand as an example of soulmates."
"That's so great. Did they get their happily ever after?"
"Not so much." Kimberly frowns, recalling the pain in her chest that had nearly made her collapse when she was a child. She'd been nine and was in the middle of gym class when the memory struck her, driving her backwards against a wall as she watched the devastating results of living in Rose Red for too long. "Bess disappeared in the same year as John's death and Frederick committed suicide on the property twenty years later after finding her necklace in the woods." Her hand comes up to grasp the necklace, remembering the day her mother had passed it down to her.
"Oh, that's awful. I guess it's just more proof that the house is evil." The blonde looks around like she expected the house to come to life and gobble them up. Kimberly didn't blame her, she'd been expecting the same thing ever since they drove onto the property. "Do you think something like that will happen to us?"
"Pretty much." There was no use in lying about it, Pam would be feeling the same way soon enough if she wasn't already. Besides, you didn't have to be psychic to know the house was more monster than a structure of wood and stone. It devoured its owners and it wouldn't stop until it was satisfied or everyone was dead.
"Emery," Nick calls, looking away from the suit or armor he was studying," are you thinking of dressing for dinner?" The music stops and Emery stands to face Nick, light glinting off the metal frame of his glasses.
"You tell me," he says sarcastically. "Read my mind." Nick gives a soft huff of laughter in response and moves on to another piece of furniture. The atmosphere was a comfortable one, reminding Kimberly of winter nights where her family would gather in their cramped living room to play board games as snow fell outside.
"Annie," Sister calls," Glenn Miller." Annie sprints over to the old phonograph from across the room, more interested now in the shining horn than the way Steve stoked the flames in the massive fireplace.
"That doesn't work," Joyce says as Annie passes by. "I tried it while I was setting up. Sorry, Annie." The sisters pay her no mind and there was a content smile curling Annie's lips upwards, making her eyes shine in excitement. It was a nice look on her and Kim finds herself smiling as well at the teen's happiness.
The doorbell rings a second later, everyone standing as Joyce heads to the door that leads into the entrance hall. "Joyce," Vic starts, but she waves him off.
"It's alright." All but Annie follow after her towards the front doors, a little trill of fear rushing through Kimberly when one of the doors refuses to open. It doesn't last long, however, as Steve tugs on the right door and it swings open easily to reveal a middle-aged man. He had shaggy brown hair that was starting to go gray and a pair of glasses similar to Emery's, dressed in a red windbreaker and holding two pizza boxes with soda cans balanced on top.
"Got three loaded for Reardon," he recites boredly. "Large, with two six-packs of soda." She has a smug expression when she passes the food and drinks off to Emery.
"And to think you doubted me this afternoon."
"I suppose you do pay attention on game nights," he says with a grin. Game nights were every Saturday, they'd break out Monopoly or Scrabble and make bets using Teddy Grahams. It was a tradition that went all the way back to the mid-seventies when Steve and Kimberly were actually old enough to understand the rules of the games.
In the Mood filters through the golden horn of the phonograph as Emery passes off the sodas to Kimberly, Annie coming to stand in the entry hall with a smug smile of her own. "I haven't heard this song in forever," Kimberly laughs, swaying along to the fast beat of it.
"Not since our wedding when you made me dance with you to it." She nods, setting the sodas on a side table so she could dance a little easier. People were partnering off already, the sound of shoe heels clicking against wood and marble, skirts of dresses flaring out.
"Do this often," the pizza man asks.
"Every chance we get," Joyce lies smoothly. "How much?"
"Uh, thirty dollars and twenty-five cents." Joyce digs the amount out of her wallet and passes it over, the pizza guy barely paying attention as he glances past them at the grand house. "This is some place. Is it haunted?"
"Yeah," Emery remarks," by the ghosts of delivery men who asked too many stupid questions and never escaped." Kimberly kicks the door shut and sets the pizza boxes in Joyce's arms before dragging Emery further into the hall. "What? No, Kim, I don't dance and you know that."
"Everyone dances, Em," she says," even you." She leads the steps and Emery follows as best as he can, both of them moving along to the rhythm almost instinctively. Kimberly feels as though time has suddenly gone backwards and she was back in the small venue they'd rented in '97, dancing with her husband in front of their friends and family. Steve was standing just at the edge of the crowd, joining in a few minutes later with Kimberly's mother. Even at fifty-six years old, Alana Ravenwood could keep up with the best of them.
~::*::~
Kimberly was finding it hard to stay awake as Moonlight Serenade played, a soothing melody that was fit for late nights and lullabies. Every now and then she'd nibble on her pizza, only half paying attention to the conversations happening throughout the room. She was more focused on the movie playing behind her eyelids, three happy kids running through the halls as Frederick chased after them, laughs ringing out and filling Rose Red with happiness. It's not until Nick announces that its story time that Kimberly allows herself to be grounded again.
"We've heard about the actress," Nick states, seated in one of the chairs across from Kimberly. "Why don't you enthrall us with the tale about Mister Posey." Douglas Posey, the man Steve's father had been named after and the one they didn't know much about other than the suicide.
"Remember that séance I told you about," Joyce checks.
"Starring the famous gypsy psychic, Cora Frye?"
"The very same. That was 1914 and the war in Europe was heating up the American economy. Omicron Oil was in clover, the money was rolling in, and John Rimbauer was tired of sharing it. In October that same year he gave Douglas Posey the bum's rush."
"According to family legend, Uncle Posey had a taste for cowboys," Steve adds.
"He liked chaps in chaps," Nick asks in amusement. "Was he into roping or branding?" Kimberly brings a hand up to her mouth, hiding her smile but not quite muffling the laugh.
"Probably a little bit of both."
"John Rimbauer bought him out at distress sale prices," Joyce continues seamlessly. "He was told never to come back to Rose Red, but he did once in 1915. John was in Europe and Ellen was home with the kids, including little Alfred Airey." She looks to Kimberly and starts up again at a confirming nod. "He snuck inside through the West Wing that was being constructed and was already half up the ladder when the kids came running in."
"Granddad never forgot Posey tossing him that Tom Mix hat. He wanted to keep it and he threw a tantrum when his mother tried to take it away. He used to tell us kids that he believed the hat was tucked away in the attic along with the vest Posey tossed to Alfred. And the rose, he never forgot April catching the rose."
"Why did he wait a year to do it," Sister asks, pizza forgotten. "And why would he do it here?"
"If you wanted answers, then you came to the wrong place."
"It's because Posey knew John would be returning home that afternoon," Kimberly fills in. She pushes an olive to the side of her plate as she talks, more interested in getting them off than the flickering image of the dead man swinging back and forth in front of the mantel. "He wanted to make sure his death would be another stain in the Rimbauer house."
"Following the suicide," Joyce picks back up," John and Ellen kept Adam out of Rose Red as much as possible. As I said earlier, he was away at boarding school when his sister disappeared."
"He knew damn well that something was very wrong here," Pam says emphatically.
"The male descendants of the Rimbauer line have mostly stayed clear of the family manse," Steve continues. "I wasn't here more than half a dozen times as a kid. I got off on my own just once when I was eight. My mother brought Kimmy and I here while Dad and Kimmy's parents were all at work. I forgot until today, I think I blocked it out. Nick's the one that reminded me."
"That's right," Kimberly recalls with a nod. "Aunt Irene didn't have enough to pay for a babysitter, so she just piled us all in the car and took off. She kept mumbling about buried treasure."
"She was drunk again, I remember that clearly enough. She was drunk a lot back then." Still is, that's why we all agreed to put her in a nursing home. The last straw had been in '93 when a cop brought her home after he found her sleeping off a three day bender on a park bench. "I know we were all broke. After we lost the oil company, broke-itis had been a family disease."
"And while your mother was treasure hunting, you got lost," Nick states matter-of-factly. "You were upstairs before you realized how lost you were. One floor above the mirror library. Or was it three floors? Or ten? Because when this place gets going, when it feels lively and has energy to draw on, Rose Red can make itself as big as it wants. Isn't that right? Finally you got to the top and that's where—"
But they never got to find out what Nick was about to say as the doors to the parlor slam shut with a bang. The entire house seemed to come to life, as though enraged by what Nick was saying as the entire room began to rumble and sparks flew from the lightbulbs all over the room. Kimberly drops to the floor and covers her head as best she can, letting out a sharp hiss when some of the sparks hit her bare legs.
"What is it," Joyce yells over the noise. "Does anyone know?"
"It's a cluster manifestation with rising elements, like an earthquake!"
"It's the house," Cathy accuses," it's coming alive!" Someone hauls her to her feet and she looks up to find her cousin, his expression stoic as he nods towards the doors. Someone was there, Kimberly could just make out a vague form that seemed to shift in time with the shadows. Sukeena, she realizes, grabbing Steve's shirt tightly in her fist. Sukeena working to make the trespassers terrified. And the plan was working as most of the others began to panic, but Kimberly felt a calm descend on her as she realized the same thing as Steve. The house wants us, needs to devour the last of its line before it has enough energy to stabilize and build forever.
"How many are there," Joyce demands, though Kimberly barely heard her. Well guess what, bitch, she thinks, projecting the words towards the dark-skinned phantom across the room, you ain't getting us no matter what horror shows you put on display! Soon enough, this place will just be a pile of bricks and you'll still be a moldering corpse!
There's a bright flash of light as the flames form a mutilated face, an invisible force sending Emery backwards against the hard floor. The flames died down after that and the house seemed to calm, a soft breath leaving Kimberly as a toy baby carriage rolled from the now empty doorway and came to a stop in front of the mantle. Things were piled inside it, children's toys that drew Annie forward like a moth to a flame.
"Annie, don't touch it," Sister pleads. Annie just continues forward, gently picking up a Raggedy Ann doll and turning to face the others. It seemed to match her other doll, a perfect set made by the house to bribe a child into joining them.
A Summer Place started up on the phonograph, a background noise as all eyes turned to the glowing smoke that floated up out of the floor. Much like in the library, the smoke reveals itself to be April as she floats several inches above the ground. Her voice was thin, rising and lowering on some invisible wind as she calls for Annie to join her.
Terror had Kimberly's feet nailed to the floor, hands shaking at her sides as she watched Annie start forward with an outstretched hand and hope in her eyes. It's Steve that acts this time, throwing a cup right through April's head, the glass shattering against the doors seconds before they swing outward again, April vanishing with a pained shriek.
"I'd advise none of you to go wandering tonight," Joyce says, looking like a satisfied cat that's just had its back scratched. "You'd agree, wouldn't you, Steve?" Everything seemed to rush in and fill him in that moment, the stoicism replaced by a deep exhaustion that had his shoulders hunching forward.
"As a matter of fact, I would."