Two years later
Karen and her two children, Emily and Navin, drove down an old road that hadn't been used for some years. The road went through a forest of pine and fir, the sun flashing like a photographer's camera with the passing trees. The small car they were riding in was a gift from Karen's brother when David and the other car were lost. It was still in working condition, but the transmission was in desperate need of a tune-up and the suspension was wearing out, making every bump, rock and pothole clearly felt. The car was loaded with all their belongings, which were stuffed into shoeboxes, garbage bags and suitcases.
Emily sat in the back on the driver's side, staring out the half-open window with a glum look on her face. The air that rushed in had the crisp chill and scent of mid-fall, but it was lost on her. Ever since her father had fallen off that cliff two years ago, her disposition had been decidedly dark. She'd distanced herself from her friends, gotten into trouble at school, even shouted some foul words in the principal's office. Karen had explained more than once that Emily had never quite gotten over her father's death. She watched a trio of ducks skimming the surface of the river they were driving over, but was too distracted to take any pleasure from it.
Navin looked back from his seat beside their mother, and Emily turned her head toward him. To the casual observer, she was simply bored out of her mind, but Navin knew better. Only seven years old when their father died, he'd been too young to comprehend what had happened and his constant inquiries of why daddy wasn't there now had driven Karen to tears many times. Now he was nine and better able to understand why his father was no longer with them. He'd been a smart boy from the beginning, so smart that his teachers had insisted that he skip the first grade. At age nine, he was a year ahead of most of the other kids.
Just like his father, Karen thought. Must run in the family. David always was a brainiac. She took a deep breath and looked ahead, fighting back tears. I miss you, honey.
Navin pulled a face at Emily, hooking his fingernails under his lower eyelids and sticking his tongue out, in an attempt to at least make her smile. But all he got in return was a flat stare.
Karen looked over at him. "You keep that up," she told him, "and your face will freeze like that."
He grinned. "I'm trying to cheer up Em," he said. "She's making that mopey face again."
"Don't listen to him, Mom," Emily said flatly, her voice tight with indignation. "I'm doing fine."
Karen couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Just so long as you find ways to amuse yourselves and stay out of trouble, I don't care what you do with your faces." She sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward. "Anyway, I think you'll like this town. It has an amusement park with roller coasters, water slides and miniature golf." She cast a pointed look at her children. "The only catch is that our new house will need a lot of work to make it liveable."
Navin sighed, memories of their other place coming to the forefront. "Why'd we have to leave our old house?" he asked. "Everything we had there was new."
Karen closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to blur her vision. "I know, but new things take money, and we can't afford them. Not since your dad passed away. Out here, at least, we won't be under so much strain." She forced a cheery tone into her voice. "Besides, this house has been in the family for years."
"Mom, we're in the middle of nowhere," Emily said, her words carrying a tone that denoted the obvious.
"There are plenty of places in this country that are 'in the middle of nowhere'," Karen told her. "Though, none of them are quite as populous as Norlen. It's a fairly sizeable city." At that moment, they passed a sign that read, Now entering Norlen, population 28,000. "You'll see. It's not that different from anywhere else." A few minutes later, the distinctive triangular shape of a roof poked up above the trees. "Well, here we are."
They turned a corner and pulled up to an old colonial-style abode. Built from cherry wood and stained to a rich glossy brown, the ancient structure was three stories tall with large, round-top windows. Karen cut the ignition and the car's engine fell silent, then unbuckled, opened her door and stepped out. She moved a bit stiffly—riding in a small car for hours on end can do that—but after a moment of stretching walked in front of the car.
She took a deep breath and held it, then let it out with an exclamation of, "Smell that fresh air! Isn't it great?"
Emily slowly stepped out of the car, looking up at the old house. It loomed over her, its two highest windows like eyes and ground floor windows like a row of teeth. Though she knew it was an inanimate, lifeless object, she felt like it was watching her. She didn't even hear when her mother commented about the keys still working.
Karen inserted the appropriate key into the lock, then turned it slowly clockwise. The rusty metal screeched in protest, but quickly gave in to the twisting force. There was a click, followed by a clunk, then Karen turned the knob and pushed the door open.
A soft exclamation of disbelief escaped her lips as she beheld the house's interior. It was dark inside. Though there were no curtains, the windows were boarded over, allowing only slats of light to penetrate the musty darkness. "This house," she said, "is needing a lot of love." Emily and Navin followed her in. "Everyone, stay close." They ventured into the gaping space that was their new home. The smell of dust and years of neglect filled their nostrils. "Watch your step," she told them as they mounted the stairs to the second floor.
She and Navin turned one way while Emily's attention went to a strange design on the window at the end of the hall. It was shaped roughly like a tree, with the trunk and a full crown of leaves, but had a vaguely sinister feel to it. There were five holes in the crown of leaves, almost like eyes, and two wicked curved horns set over four small points. Through her fascination, she began to see something like a monster in that creepy design…
"There's no way we can sleep here like this," said Karen, snapping Emily out of her spellbound stare. "We'll have to attack it."
A short time later, the three of them were back at the front door, armed with appropriate weapons for assaulting a dirty house. Dew-rags covered their heads. "Are you ready?" Karen asked in a low voice, like they were preparing to attack an enemy stronghold.
"Ready when you are, Mom," Emily answered.
Navin, in a righteous show of masculine courage, shouted at the top of his lungs, "BRING IT ON!"
They brought their weapons to bear.
"CHARGE!" Karen bellowed, running into the house like an angry bull. Navin and Emily were hot on her heels, ready to cause some serious damage to the thick layer of dust and grime that coated everything. They brushed, swept, wiped and scrubbed like maids gone mad, attacking their enemy with the ferocity of cornered animals. With time and a lot of effort, they began to make progress. Dirt that had been left undisturbed for too long lost its grimy grip on whatever surface it clung to and came off in gummy clumps, and dust that had accumulated was lifted into the air in choking clouds.
However, dirt and grime weren't the only signs of neglect and lack of human habitation. In the years since whoever last lived here had left, time and the elements had enlarged cracks and notches in the construction to the point that birds and small animals had moved in. Feathers and old nests could be seen in the rafters overhead; clumps of fur and tiny piles of scat were found under the furniture; there was even evidence that some small canine or feline had once called this place home. Then, of course, there were the dusty cobwebs that seemed to infest every corner and tight space. No old house was complete without those.
After a while, the foyer was starting to look somewhat habitable. That alone had taken almost two hours. All of them had made their best effort to, at the very least, get the floor clean so they'd have a place to sleep tonight.
Eventually, Emily wandered upstairs. She couldn't get that strange design in the window frame out of her head. It had been in the back of her mind ever since she'd seen it. She knew there wasn't any logical reason for it to fascinate her so, but it did. And she didn't know why. To anyone else, it was simply the design favored by the house's builder. Strange, to be sure, but captivating all the same. Like a demonic tree, or some plant with horns, she thought.
Her feet unconsciously carried her toward the window. Her eyes wandered around the corridor and settled on a door that she hadn't seen before. It had a rounded top and a small viewport in the middle, high enough up that an adult could look comfortably through it. She briefly considered opening it, but curiosity overcame practicality: She reached out and turned the knob. The door's old hinges creaked as it swung inward.
What met her eyes was something she hadn't expected.
It was a large, two-story room. The ground floor was occupied only by a large wooden desk with some dusty old books and a globe resting on its top. Above the desk was a large portrait of a man—she guessed him to be anywhere from late twenties to early forties—with red hair like her own, dressed in a sharp suit typical of the early 20th century and a pair of round spectacles over his eyes. His expression, if he wore one, was more stoic than blank. It was the days before fast-developing camera film, and most people didn't want to stand for hours wearing a smile or some other expression that would likely freeze before the picture was finished.
On the bottom of the frame was a plaque bearing a name, which she guessed to be that of the man: Silas Charnon.
She had no idea who he was, so she looked around the room and her gaze settled on a small podium with a thick book on it. The book's front cover was divided into eight slices by as many bars, all branching out from a small oval in the center. In the oval was a double-ended arrow over what looked to be a simple diagram of a house. Driven by curiosity, she opened the book. It crackled as she folded back the cover. Clearly, the thing hadn't felt human hands in quite some time.
Behind her, a tendril of darkness extended toward her back. It morphed into a shape resembling a three-clawed hand, flexing like it hadn't moved in ages. As it approached her, it coalesced into an amorphous mass much like an amoeba. Two eyes appeared—large, yellow orbs with slitted pupils. It looked over her shoulder at the schematics and diagrams of various technological wonders that were never built. Strange contraptions that would never be used.
It extended its clawed hand toward her shoulder…
"Emily!"
Navin's voice cut through the palpable silence like a thunderclap. The mass whipped around, now aware that there was more than one presence in the house. It headed toward the vent over the door, sliding through the grate as easily as smoke.
"Emily?"
The smoky, amorphous mass disappeared just as Navin appeared in the door.
"Whoa," said the boy in wonder. "Hey Mom! Come see what Em found!"
Karen was beside him in a moment. "Oh wow," she said, just as surprised. She entered the large room, gazing about like a child in a candy store. "This is my Grandpa Silas' library."
Emily crossed back over to the large portrait. "So this is great-grandpa?" she asked.
"Yep," said Karen.
"Is he still alive?"
Karen thought before answering. "That's a good question," she said. "Nobody knows what happened to him after he disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
Navin, having lost interest in the relative he knew nothing about, began to wander the room and found the spiral staircase in the far corner. Karen continued her narrative behind him.
"After great-grandma Isabel passed away, Silas was utterly heartbroken. Eventually, he locked himself in this room and was never seen or heard from again. That's why the locals think this place is haunted."
"Is it?" asked Emily.
"Of course not. NAVIN!" The boy started. "Get down from there!"
"Aw, come on, Mom," Navin complained. "I'll be fine. There's nothing up here but old junk."
The mysterious mass oozed out from behind an old crate and along the floor like heavy mist.
"There are so many blueprints," said Emily, opening the book again. "Was he an architect?"
"No," answered Karen in a resigned tone, "he was a puzzle maker. I know he was proud of that fact. Though, I always thought his puzzles looked more like machines."
"Wow," Navin droned, staring at some weird contraption called a card-bot.
"I'm glad you're taking an interest in his work," Karen said. "It should make an interesting school report."
Emily gave her mother a half-incredulous, half-terrified look. "Do I have to go to school?" she whined. "I can learn everything I need to know on my own."
Karen sighed. They'd done this same dance three times before. "I know you hate going to a new school again, but there's no way around it." She tried to gave her daughter a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble making friends."
"It's not that, Mom," Emily interrupted. "It's that I don't see the point of learning stuff like math and science when I know I'll never use it in the real world."
Karen chuckled. "And when did you know so much about the real world?"
"It's true, isn't it?" Emily was starting to get irritated.
"That's beside the point," Karen told her.
"You said Great-Grandpa Silas didn't go to school, right?"
"Emily—"
"If so, then he was obviously a lot smarter than all those 'educated' jerks who do."
"My grandfather was eccentric," Karen said. "And not someone you should look up to."
"What?" Emily couldn't understand this. Her great-grandfather wasn't someone to look up to? The evidence to the contrary seemed to say otherwise. "Why not?"
Karen's face hardened slightly. "Just trust me, Emily. It's better to lead a normal life like everyone else." Then she smiled and turned around. "Let's go back downstairs and finish cleaning. We have a lot of work to do before it gets dark."
Emily felt like her mother wasn't telling her something, but decided it could wait until later. Just as she was about to follow, she caught a glimpse of something under the book. Pushing it away, she discovered a hand-shaped depression in the podium. Inside the depression was a set of grooves, separating it into quarters and swirling toward the center. Eight arrows pointed outward just inside the circle. She reached her hand toward it.
"Em, wait," said Navin. She looked at him expectantly. "I don't think you should."
Her expectant gaze turned questioning. "Why?"
"You don't think that anything in this room is even the least bit creepy?"
Emily let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, grow up!" She placed her hand in the depression.
And jerked back an instant later with a sharp yelp of pain. She looked at her hand and saw a tiny bead of blood forming on her index finger.
"See!?" demanded Navin. "I told you not to touch it!"
"Don't be such a baby," she shot back. "It's just a tiny nick."
The grooves in the depression, as well as the circle's edge and the arrows just inside it, began to glow. Navin and Emily looked at it in wonder for a minute before it shot out beams of intense light, and flipped over with the sound of grating stone. When it came to rest, they saw a dummy neck like they'd seen in jewelry stores. It was pure white, without a single scratch or speck of dirt on it, despite the years it must have sat idle.
On it was a gold amulet strung on a cord and set with a large rosy gemstone of some kind.
"What is it?" Emily wondered aloud.
"Who cares?" Navin demanded. "We just saw a podium light up and flip over! Let's go back downstairs."
Emily looked at him incredulously. "You're awfully dull, you know that? Where's your sense of discovery?"
"Long gone." He grabbed his sister's wrist. "Let's go."
But Emily jerked her wrist from his grasp. "Wait a minute." She looked at the necklace. She couldn't understand why, but she felt drawn to it. Like the thing was calling to her. A tiny voice in her brain telling her to pick it up. And she did. She held it in front of her face. It gave of a very faint glow and pulsed with a sort of energy. It was mystifying, almost hypnotic.
Navin's voice snapped her back to reality. "Come on, Em. Let's leave it there and tell Mom about it."
She looked at him. "She'll just tell us to put it back." She motioned. "Help me put it on."
Navin, his mind still trying to assimilate what he'd just seen, unconsciously did as he was told. He took it from Emily's hand and pulled the two strings behind her neck. "I'm not good at knots," he said.
"It's easy," Emily replied. "Just make two pretzels."
"Two pretzels…"
Navin stared dumbly at the two string ends in his fingers, trying to visualize what a double-pretzel knot would look like. And almost gasped when the strings did as Emily had suggested. On their own. It was almost too quick for him to follow, but he caught that the suggested knot was just short of tying a shoelace. The two strings pulled tight.
"Did you tie it?" Emily asked.
"Um, I…" Another impossible thing for his mind to digest. "I think so."
Emily held the gemstone in her hand. It still radiated with energy, if only just within perceptible limits. "It's beautiful," she all but whispered. Then looked at her brother seriously. "Don't tell Mom, okay?"
"I want one, too," he whined.
Emily's serious expression softened. "Cheer up. I'll let you wear it when I'm done with it." She patted his shoulder and headed for the door. "Come on. Let's go help Mom finish cleaning."
Navin watched her turn the corner and disappear. "How come I never get anything first?" he complained to himself.
His crestfallen mood was dispelled when a flash of cold coursed through his body. It was that feeling people get when they just feel like they're being watched. His eyes widened at that pricking of the sixth sense programmed into every living thing, and turned around to scan the room. His eyes told him that he was alone, but that eerie feeling of unknown company didn't go away.
His heartbeat increasing, he raced after his sister. "Em, wait up!"
From the balcony, a silhouette with glowing blue eyes watched from behind a crate.