"Ok, sure. We'll, uh, look over this way." I felt in my pocket, and found that I was in luck. The small purple flashlight I'd used to walk Chase the last time if rained was still there. Unfortunately, it was the sort that you had to hold the button down to use. I guess beggars can't be choosers.
Scully left the room about a minute before I did. To cover my delay, I mentally made the pretense that I was looking for candles in that room first, but there really wasn't much to see. It was a typical entry room for a big house like that vast, probably 10x12 or more, and virtually empty. Besides the staircase in the center, there was nothing else. Sighing softly, I headed to the hall opposite of the one Scully had already gone down.
She must have picked the hall that lead to the kitchen, because I didn't find it. The first room I entered was a library. There were several floor-to-ceiling bookcases with glass fronts. Unfortunately, the glass was decorated with an elaborate latticework that served to obscure most of the books' titles. Of the titles I could read, though, they were classics, and it was clear to see every book was leather bound. I would have liked to have spent more time with the books, perhaps even tried to see if there were locks on the bookcases, but it was obvious that there were no portable sources of light. The fireplace did look promising, but it would have to stay put.
The next three doors were locked, but the forth and final one swung open easily. I went in cautiously, peering around at objects lit by the same strange blue light as the boat's cabin had been. The room was better lit than the rest of the house, at least what I'd seen of it, and a glance at the windows revealed this was because there were no curtains. The room seemed to be a shrine; one to a forgotten family. The walls were covered with framed photos.
Unfortunately, the ones nearest the windows were bleached by seventy years of full sunlight. It was impossible to tell what most of them had been pictures of. The others, however, were still clear.
I was fascinated. A family's entire history hung on the walls, and I didn't even know most of my great-grandparents' names. One family grouping – Mom, Dad, and five young kids- stood smiling at the camera. Or rather, all smiled except for one of the middle kids, a curly, fair-haired girl about three years old. I wondered why she was scowling when everyone else looked so happy.
My thoughts returned to the present when I heard Scully shout "Oh, God no!"
I heard the sounds of running footsteps above, so it was obvious that Mulder had heard her shout as well despite being floors above us. Since the shout hadn't woken Markie, who was still breathing on my neck, I personally didn't run. I knew the jostling would definitely wake him, and I didn't want him awake if he didn't need to be.
Given my relative sloth, Mulder was bolting down the stairway in the entry when I got there. If he's frequently given to running around like that, he's lucky not to have broken his neck by then. As it was, he nearly tripped three stairs from the bottom. He stumbled a bit, but was able to grab the railing to keep from falling.
It was his fumbling that finally woke Markie, because his cry of "mama!" made Mulder and I both jump. Apparently Markie just was asking us what was going on since he didn't need anything. Mulder and I exchanged sheepish looks before racing down the other hallway to look for Scully.
We found Scully in the kitchen, surrounded by a scattering of unlit candles. I guessed then that we wouldn't need to rely on our flashlights alone after all. She was standing with her face pressed against the glass. Mulder tapped her on the shoulder, startling her. "Sorry. What's wrong? We both heard you shout."
Instead of answering, she pointed out the window. We leaned over and squinted. It was pretty dark out, but the source of her dismay was immediately apparent. "I thought you dropped the anchor!" She accused Mulder.
He threw his hands up defensively. " I did! The violent waves must have broken the chain."
I watched as our little boat drifted further and further from shore. It was already hopeless, since it was a good half a mile out already. I hoped no one would get the foolish idea that someone out to swim for it. I didn't know about them, but swimming was never a strong suit of mine. I wouldn't drown if you shoved me off a dock or knocked me out of a canoe, but swimming as a form of transporting one's self from one place to another was not a viable option for me.
"It's no problem," Mulder said soothingly. "We can just call the coast guard and tell them what happened..." He drifted to a halt because Scully was shaking her head violently. "No? It's their job to help us, storm or no."
"Try to call them." She said flatly. We both watched as he pulled out his phone to call. 'No service' flashed brightly on the phone's screen. Why are cell phones touted as being good for emergencies if they never work when you really need them to? I swear I'll never buy one.
Mulder sighed in frustration. "Ok, ok. It's not hopeless. Either someone is going to find the boat and get worried enough to contact the owner, or the owner himself is going to realize we never returned the boat late tonight like we were supposed to do. He said he'd check on it in the morning, right? So we'll probably be found early tomorrow."
"I didn't agree to spend the night in a haunted house!" I protested.
"The house isn't haunted. The beach is haunted." Mulder corrected.
"Oh, big difference." I grumbled.
"If we don't get the boat back, the bureau will replace your carseat." He added.
I shook my head. As if my biggest worry was the potential loss of a carseat.
"Did you find any bedrooms?" Scully asked me. "There aren't any down this way."
I shook my head. "No, but three of the five rooms down the hallway I was in were locked. I hope those aren't them."
"There might well be some upstairs. I didn't look around on my way up to the widow's watch." Mulder volunteered.