A person finds a crayon drawing of a strange family — it's inscribed with the words we live in your walls.Pam (mouth of babes)
Lisle Solo taped the box shut and straightened, wincing at the tug in her back. She had argued against having professional movers come and take their possessions to their new home in the country, but now she saw the wisdom of the words. It was a chore just to get everything packed up without having to carry things down flights of stairs or load things into a truck.
She paused and looked around the room. This had been home for most of their married life. It had seen her children grow from infants into young children. So many memories, and yet…
Leon would have laughed had she mentioned anything and she didn't even want to think what her father would say, but she always felt a bit ill at ease here. It was nothing she could put her finger on, perhaps it was just as well that she kept it to herself.
A shadow moved in the very periphery of her vision and she snapped her head around. Nothing. It was always nothing.
She picked up the box and carried it from the twins' room. Lisle would often hear them talking, but then they had chattered like magpies the moment they discovered their vocal cords. It wasn't strange, their pediatrician said.
Lisle carried the box to the top of the stairs and carefully set it down.
"That the last one?" Her father set down some pillows and carefully folded blankets. "I thought we could use these for padding."
She kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Dad." She looked around. It was already just a house now, no longer a home.
"Will you be sad to leave?" Illya Kuryakin could see something in her eyes.
"A little, but wherever my family is, that's home." She suddenly embraced him and it took a mere fraction of a second for his arms to encompass her.
"What's wrong, Lisle?" Illya murmured into her ear.
"I can't… nothing is wrong." She sighed. "It's just moving blues."
Napoleon appeared then, pushing a hand truck. His load of boxes looked shaky, but didn't fall. "How did we accumulate so much stuff? I don't even know what's in most of these boxes."
"The scary part is that we threw almost everything away before we moved." Illya resealed a piece of tape that was peeling away. "Is this it?"
"A couple more loads and that's it for us."
"Me, too." Just furniture is left. "Thank you both again for insisting on movers. I thought we could do it, but…"
"You're not as young as you used to be." Napoleon laughed and gave his daughter-in-law's cheek a kiss. "Why don't you take your father downstairs and give him some tea," he whispered. "He's acting brave, but.."
She nodded. "I suspect you are right. Dad, how about a nice cup of tea? I still have some stuff out in the kitchen that I haven't packed away yet." The movers appeared at that moment and started carrying the boxes down the stairs. "Whatever we are paying them, it isn't enough."
She walked through the hallway, now crammed with boxes and furniture. Leon was out on the lawn, supervising.
"I'm glad that Alex and Genève took the children. Fewer trip hazards." Illya followed her into the kitchen, trying hard not to limp.
"It's okay, Dad, I won't tell anyone." She filled the kettle and set it on the stove, stroking the chipped top. "I can't believe I'm getting all soppy about this place. I've never even really liked it-" She caught herself, but it was too late.
"You know you can be honest with me, Lisle."
"I know… it's just. This house was the answer to our dreams. There was enough room for everyone, even you two. The price was ridiculous and while it wasn't in great shape, it was fine for us. I wanted a place where the kids could have a bit of a backyard and rooms of their own."
The kettle boiled and she took it from the stove. Filling a tea ball with her favorite tea, she placed it into the tea pot, filled it and then covered it with a tea cozy.
Illya was already spooning jam into a cup. He looked up at her and she nodded. "How is it, I grew up with an uncaring and distant mother, and I still share traits with you?"
"Because you, my dear, have Kuryakin blood in your veins. Now, you were saying?"
"I've always felt weird here, like I'm being watched or something."
"Hazards of the trade. You were a THRUSH agent, after all. I feel the same way at times. You get used to it."
"But I never have and it's not like I feel it other places, just here, especially upstairs."
"Try the attic. I swear there were a dozen people living with us. You could even hear them, if it was really quiet. Irina would talk to them at night."
"I thought that was a THRUSH attempt at wiretapping."
"Me, too, but even after we eliminated the threat and when she thought I was asleep, I'd hear her talking."
Tears started rolling down Lisle's cheek. "Oh, thank God, I thought I was going crazy."
Illya gathered her into his arms, always happy to hold the daughter he thought he'd been denied. "Why didn't you say something?"
She sniffed and he handed her his handkerchief. "I was afraid you'd think less of me. Or not believe me."
"How could I think less of you? You are my daughter. You are brave and kind and loving." He kissed her temple and set her back. "As for believing you, I believe in you, always."
"Thank you." She poured the tea out and began to stir it.
"Besides, Russian, remember? I grew up on Baba Yaga and whatever else the gypsies told me. Why not ghosts?" He sipped carefully. "Is that why you've only used that one room for storage?"
"It was the play room. Alex and Irina never liked it, though, and I was always seeing weird things, like toys moving by themselves and whatnot. Then one day Irina had a full scale meltdown when I tried to put her in there."
"Odd, she was a very easygoing baby."
"Exactly. After that, it was just easier to move stuff downstairs or let them play in their rooms." She set the cup down. "And we started to use the place for storage. Not even Leon liked it in there and nothing scares him."
"Old houses are funny that way. Your Aunt Taisia was absolutely terrified of a small lean to at the family dacha. When I asked why, well, I suddenly found my chores doubled and all the adults mad at me."
"That wasn't right."
"No, it wasn't. Come to find out, a distant relative had taken their life there and she insisted she could still see him."
"Oh, that's so sad."
"No, he was a villain and had attacked the mayor's daughter, raping and beating her nearly to death. The villagers were demanding his blood, but he decided to hang himself and not give them the satisfaction of executing him."
"Wow…" She drained her cup and set it aside just as Leon yelled for her. "His Liege calls."
Illya nodded and watched her hurry away just as Napoleon came in.
"Want a cup?"
"Sure. I could handle sitting down for a bit. I'm exhausted." He settled into a chair and sighed. "Moving is always tough, no matter how exciting the prospect of a new place is."
"Agreed."
"Is Lisle okay?"
"Yeah, I think so. Just nerves and exhaustion. Hopefully, it will be better when we're all in one spot again."
"It's this house. So much has happened here and not all of it nice."
"Agreed. So, you know about it?"
"Yeah, full disclosure and all that. I didn't think they needed to know about it. I mean, who wants to know a mass murder took place in the house you were moving into? Do you think we made a mistake not telling them?"
"No, but she still picked up on it, though."
"Well, residual energy and all that." He spooned sugar into his tea. "Something weird, though. How old were the kids when they stopped using that room as a playroom?"
"Young. I think Alex was about four or so."
"He wasn't writing then, was he?"
"A word or two, his name, not much more. Why?"
"I was moving that last stack of boxes and I saw some drawings on the wall. It was in crayon."
"They were still young and prone to that, still are in some cases." He looked over at a purple sun scribbled on the wallpaper.
"It was stick figures. Three large, four small and they had X's for eyes."
"And?"
"Underneath them were the words, we live in your walls."