"It was you who showed me I got a friend in you
I always knew that you'd be right here for me
And it was you who stood with me when the skies are blue
And it was you who stood by my side
It was you."
—It Was You by Ashley Ballard

Chapter 15: Inside the Haunted Mansion

"Are you sure about this, Les?" I asked her hesitantly.

Leslie's green eyes sparked with determination. "Of course, Jess! I've been waiting for this to happen. 'Sides, Saturdays are for mysteries!"

I should be the one who was braver, since I was the King of Terabithia. Gulping the last piece of cowardice inside me, I looked at Leslie and nodded. "Then let's go."

We continued walking and, after a few minutes, we caught the glimpse of the mansion behind the trees.

One-hundred feet away from the mansion.

Sixty feet away from the mansion.

Forty feet away from the mansion and I suddenly tripped on an overgrown root. "Oommph!" This is what you get if you didn't watch where you were going. How embarrassing.

"Jess!" Leslie dashed back to help me stand up. "You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

I rubbed my nose and hair with my hand to remove the dead twigs, leaves and dirt. "Mmmfine. Just tripped on an overgrown—oh!" I glimpsed something like a metal. Bending down, I wiped the leaves and dirt on it and saw a medium-sized metal trapdoor set into a slightly swollen mound of earth.

My eyes widened and Leslie gasped at the discovery. "A trapdoor? In here?" She pursed her lips. "Can you open it, Jess?"

I pulled at the handle with all of my strength, but it still wouldn't budge. "Can you call Conrad and the others and tell them to come here?"

Leslie fished her phone from her pocket, called Conrad, and then tapped the loudspeaker button.

"Les, where are you and Jesse now?" Conrad answered after the third ring. "Clara Bradford, David Beckham Wannabe and I have been waiting for you two for about five minutes already."

We heard Sarah saying in the background: "Conrad, how many times do I have to tell you that my name is SARAH BRADFIELD!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Sorry we're five minutes late, Rad," Leslie said with a light laugh. "We're here at the left side of the mansion, and Jesse discovered something...special. Please come here because we seriously need your help."

"Okay. We're on our way." And then he hung up.

After a moment we saw them walking toward our direction.

"Hey, Leslie!" Groban greeted with a grin. "Hey, Aarons!"

"Hey, Nigel!" Leslie greeted back jovially.

"Hey, Groban," I said.

Sarah just waved at us, looking bored.

I remembered her look yesterday. I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to her after the play because she'd been with her group of friends, having their moments. "Sarah—"

"I'm all right, Jess," she said.

"Really, Bradfield?" Leslie said with a raised eyebrow, unaware what Sarah's sentence really meant. "I believe you're scared. There's still time to back out, you know."

Sarah glared daggers at Leslie. "I'm here for a purpose."

Here for a purpose? I wondered.

"Oh, right. You're going to give us tips on how to be fearless," she answered sarcastically.

Sarah just gave Leslie a bright, fake-friendly smile.

"Oooh, fifth wheel alert!" Conrad said.

Groban raised his eyebrows. "Talking 'bout yourself, Miller?"

"Er, no. I'm talking about you."

"What do you mean by that?"

I saw Conrad holding a video camera. "You wanna record our trip?" I asked.

He snorted. "Of course not; that'd be boring. This is for recording David Beckham Wannabe's screams later."

I noticed Groban's eyes widen in horror for a second. "Heh. What're you talking about, Miller? You're going to record your screams later."

"Ho-ho! We'll see about that."

"So, about the help thingie...?" Sarah uttered, ignoring Conrad and Groban's bickering.

I gestured toward the unveiled trapdoor.

"Interesting," Conrad astonished.

Groban turned to me. "Is it really that heavy?"

I nodded. "The three of us should lift it up."

Groban, Conrad, and I pulled the handle together and, sure enough, the door gave away, and we were staring down at mid-darkness with metal ladder rungs on the side of the wall.

"Holy brown cow," I said after a moment of stunned silence.

"What should we do now?" Groban asked.

"We'll go down," Leslie said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Duh."

Conrad wiped non-existent tears on his face. "The love for rhyming words, huh?"

Leslie got her blue flashlight that was filled with smiley stickers from her backpack. Turning it on, she aimed the light below. "Hey, I think the depth is just twenty feet something. I can see the floor."

"I'll climb down first, just in case there's something waiting in there," I told her.

Leslie smiled. "You really are a king, Jess."

My cheeks flushed. "I'm just concerned for our safety." Especially yours.

"How 'bout I go first instead?" Groban suggested.

"No!" Conrad and Sarah exclaimed at the same time. Then Conrad turned to her, surprised. I was sure he knew Sarah had a crush on me, but didn't know she'd already let go of her feelings toward me two days ago. But still, I was also shocked because of what Sarah just did. Leslie was gazing at her with a doubtful look, maybe wondering: What's this witch up to?

"Fine," Groban grumbled eventually.

Taking the flashlight from Leslie's hands, I started to descend.

"Be careful," Leslie said.

I nodded. Then with ease, I reached the last rung. The space was wide enough for the five of us. I tapped my foot on the floor and knocked my knuckles at the wall lightly.

Cement.

Leslie was next to go down, and I helped her by directing the light on her every step. "Les, the rungs are kinda rusted, so—"

Too late for my warning, she fell down on top of me with a shriek. I accidentally let go of the flashlight and it rolled a good distance from us.

"Owww," we moaned in unison.

We heard Sarah laughing at the top while saying: "Burke's so stupid! AHA-HA-HA!"

"Jesse, are you all right?" Leslie asked with worry, ignoring Sarah.

"Shouldn't I be the one who's asking you that question?"

Leslie paused, and I could feel that she was smiling. "This seems like a déjà vu, isn't it?"

I chuckled. "Now that you mention it, yeah. It was last year." The day I fell in love with you.

And come to think of it, the only differences were Leslie and I were in sort of a tunnel, no trees surrounding us, we were twenty feet something below ground, and we were almost covered by darkness. These may be a sign: That I already had no chance on Leslie.

"Oy, lovebirds, please get a room, will ya?" Conrad said while climbing down with his own flashlight in hand.

Blushing from embarrassment, we hastily stood up. "Conrad!"

He just grinned, then directed the flashlight's beam toward Sarah's steps.

I got the flashlight that was lying to our right as Groban reached the floor. "Aren't Leslie and I the love—"

"No one's asking for your opinion, David Beckham Wannabe," Conrad interrupted him.

Groban narrowed his eyes. "Why're you here, anyway?"

Conrad raised an eyebrow and held up his video camera. "To record you while you're screaming, of course."

Groban was about to say something, but Conrad cut him off him again. "And Leslie and Jesse invited me. Got a problem with that?"

"N-no," he mumbled.

"Good that."

The area was now totally covered in darkness—except for our lights—after Groban had closed the trapdoor.

As they were bickering, I aimed the light to the only narrow passageway available.

"This passageway leads to the mansion, no doubt," Leslie stated.

Sarah crossed her arms. "A secret entrance to the mansion, huh?"

I took a deep breath. Okay, there was no turning back now. Might as well continue onward and see what we'd find in the mansion.

We walked in single file, since the tunnel was so narrow: Me, Leslie, Sarah, Groban, and then Conrad taking the rear.

Conrad's, Groban's, and my head were brushing the ceiling.

"Stepping into a place with any signs and such gets me really excited," Leslie said.

I glanced back at her, not stopping in my tracks. "With any signs?"

She grinned at me. "Like, 'What's around here?' Curiosity gets the better of you. I mean, look how we discovered Terabithia."

"You're right, Les," I said with a crooked smile. I remembered how Leslie had found the tree house that we turned into our castle, how queenly she'd yelled at the top of the castle, and how the wind had answered her call five years ago.

"Terabithia?" Sarah asked. "Isn't that from The Chronicles of Narnia?"

"I believe you mean Terebinthia. They're different." Leslie waved her hand dismissively. "But don't worry, Bradfield. It doesn't concern you."

Sarah scowled at Leslie, and I felt sorry for her. I gave Sarah an apologetic look. She just smiled lightly in return.

Then we reached a metallic door. I opened it and, judging by the huge empty space—except for a green mountain bike on the side that was covered in dust and cobwebs—this was the basement of the mansion.

"The tunnel must be the fire exit," Leslie said.

"There's a set of stairs." Conrad nodded to the right, and then we ascended the stairs.

Reaching the top, I opened the door slowly, and, looking out the windows, it was dark outside. The room inside the doorway was large and cool, with a chandelier in the middle and a fireplace at the right side. Some of the windows were covered with thick curtains. The air smelled of old leather and dust.

Leslie patted on a couch, and dust sprayed up from it. "Living room," she said.

"H-hey, maybe we should go h-home now," Groban stammered. "You see, it's starting to rain. We didn't bring umbrellas."

"Idiot! We've come this far already." Conrad grinned mischievously. "If you wanna go home, David Beckham Wannabe, go home by yourself."

"Don't worry, Miller. I was just kidding."

"Weh."

Just then thunder boomed overhead while lightning flashed, and Sarah suddenly screamed.

I turned to her quickly. "What's wrong, Sarah?"

She pointed with a quivering hand to the other side of the room, her eyes filled with fear.

Before I could aim the flashlight on the side, Conrad beat me to it.

"Bah!" he said, boredom in his voice. "These are just demonic-looking statues."

"Oh," Sarah sighed with relief.

"Those must be what Old Man Chris saw," I said.

Leslie laughed. "Talking about being fearless, eh, Bradfield?"

Sarah whirled sharply at Leslie. "Shut up, Burke. I was just surprised by the lightning."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ri-ight."

I could already sense something was wrong in this place. Something dangerous. Then, as if the mansion heard my thoughts, we heard music played by a violin echoing from the other end of the long hallway.

All of us—except for Conrad, who was concentrating too hard to listen to the music and unnerved by the event—stopped in our tracks and tensed, making the hairs on our arms stand up as the music continued playing.

Sarah started biting her nails. Groban's hands were shaking wildly. Leslie was so stiff, she looked like she was made out of plywood. While me—um, let's just say that I wanted to run as fast as I could away from this place.

This must be what Scott and Gary had heard!

"I-I'm n-not the o-only one who's hearing th-that, r-right?" Groban stammered.

Sarah nodded stiffly, then looked at Leslie. "Praise God! You're also freaking out," she said through chattering teeth.

Leslie snapped from her stiffness and sharply turned to Sarah. "I wasn't freaking out."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Ri-ight."

"C-Conrad?" I said, gulping. "What's your status over there?"

His brows were furrowed. "Holy snap! That's a bloody Stradivarius, I'm sure. And it's playing Vitali's 'Chaconne,'" he said in amazement. "Such perfection. H-how?" Conrad turned to face us. "I must meet this virtuoso. Well, I'm also a virtuoso myself, but still."

The four of us just stared blankly at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Please, people. You don't believe I'm a virtuoso?"

"It's not about that—" I stopped myself as the music also stopped. Now the mansion was deadly quiet.

"Let's go to that hallway, shall we?" Conrad said after a full minute, as if saying we'd have a tea party. We just nodded back and then followed him down the hall.

Then, I saw in my peripheral vision that Groban was about to put his arm around Leslie, but Sarah tripped, knocking Leslie to the front a little, so Groban's arm missed its target.

Leslie looked back at Sarah with a scowl. "Watch it, Bradfield."

She quickly stood up from the carpeted floor before I could help her while dusting her shirt with her hands. "It's your fault, Burke. You're the one who's standing in my way."

Leslie just rolled her eyes and continued in her tracks—Groban following her, but didn't attempt to do the arm-thing again. I inwardly sighed in relief.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" I whispered to Sarah as we started walking again.

"Duh, Jess," she replied with an eye roll. Seriously, was rolling your eyes the top one in "Girls' To-Do List"? "I mentioned a while ago, didn't I? That I'm here for a purpose, and that purpose is to keep Nigel away from Burke."

My brows knitted in confusion. "But why, Sarah?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because we're friends, Jess," Sarah said with a gorgeous smile. "Now, please don't give me that adorable look, or else my feelings for you will come back."

"Um..." I wasn't sure what to reply to that.

She giggled. "Just kidding." Then she looked at her hands. "How disgusting! I'm now dirty, even though I just fell on the floor for a second."

"Well, no one's been here for a long time, so the carpet's really dusty," I said. "Let's look for the bathroom to clean up."

000

We soon found the bathroom, which was the size of my bedroom. It even had a large bathtub and a shower.

Sarah quickly turned on the faucet and washed her hands. "Thank God!"

Leslie's and Conrad's gaze were directed at the faucet.

"Is something the matter?" I asked them.

She shook her head. "Just wondering..."

Conrad just kept silent.

000

"We're having an adventure like in a role-playing game," Groban said as we rounded a corner.

"Too many games in your head, David Beckham Wannabe," Conrad said with a smirk. "No wonder you get low grades."

Groban snorted. "Low grades? Please, I usually get A's. And don't forget, Miller, I almost beat your score in logic last year."

"Almost." Conrad shrugged while giving him a sassy look. "We're a party, then. I'm the wizard, 'cause wizards are intelligent. And I'm intelligent."

Groban sighed in exasperation.

Sarah touched a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "I wanna be the huntress. Allison Argent from Teen Wolf is my favorite character, and she's a huntress, so yeah."

"I'm the assassin," Groban says with a grin. "Assassins are cool and fast. And I am cool and fast."

Conrad made a disgusted face.

"I'm the priestess so that there will be a healer in this party," Leslie said, thoughtful, then turned back to me. "How 'bout you, Jess?"

"Er, I don't know—" then a voice in my head said, You're Leslie's knight in shining armor. "Knight. I'm the knight in this party."

"Ah. The brave one," Conrad mused.

Leslie smiled at me widely. I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Too bad we forgot to bring our costumes," Groban joked.

Sarah giggled. "Happy Halloween, everyone!"

"Still, let's ask the ghosts for a trick-or-treat," I chimed in.

"What kind of flavor of candies do you think they'll give us?" Leslie wondered.

"Absolutely scary cherry," Conrad responded.

We laughed at our own ridiculous moment, but suddenly stopped when a door a few steps ahead of us opened slowly with a creaking noise. I aimed the flashlight to the door.

"Hey, knight, you should hurry and check it out," Groban said.

Sarah nodded at me in encouragement. "Jesse, do your best."

"I'll be your back-up," Conrad simply said, and I don't know if he was scared or just too lazy to enter that room, finding it uninteresting for him.

I inwardly rolled my eyes. Just because I was the knight didn't mean I should be the first one to check it out. Then a hand laced through mine and Leslie pulled me forward. She looked back at me with a grin that kind of made me forget where I was for a moment. "We'll check it out together, my knight."

I barely restrained from falling over and dying of nervousness and overwhelming emotion, but I steadied myself by holding onto her hand tighter. "Th-thanks, my priestess."

As Leslie and I reached the door, I held the doorknob, slowly turned it, peered through the narrow crack with the flashlight, and saw an opened window—curtains flapping over the wind. I motioned for them that the coast was clear, and then we got inside the room.

"I see. The door opened automatically because of the wind," Conrad started.

"No crap, Sherlock," Groban muttered.

"I heard that, David Beckham Wannabe," he said while going toward the window. "Well, there are no ghosts in here, peeps. Just nature doing its thing." Conrad closed it, but then paused, looking intently at the lock. I heard him mumble, "Oh, I stand corrected."

"But what about earlier?" Sarah said. "The ghost who was playing the violin."

Conrad waved his hand dismissively. "Human being," he corrected. "Someone definitely lives here, but doesn't want the people of Lark Creek to find out. I believe unearthing the answer to the 'why' is the biggest mystery here."

"That's what Leslie also said," I said as I looked around the room with the help of Leslie's flashlight. There was a large painting of a basket full of assorted fruits pinned on the wall, and a single bed and a drawer at the side.

"See? Great minds think alike."

"I will worship you daily, O Intelligent Ones," Sarah mocked.

"Compliment taken, insult ignored, Cera Brodwin."

She sighed in frustration. "We're classmates in world history, and even now you still pretend that you don't know my real name."

Conrad raised his eyebrows. "Ah. I don't know what you're talking about, Sally Bredflint."

Leslie was on one knee, gazing at the floor using the light of her phone, probably looking for clues. "This is the guest bedroom, I believe."

Groban cleared his throat. "Um, guys?" We turned to him. "I'm going to the bathroom, so wait for me here, yeah?"

"Are you okay by yourself, Nigel? Do you still know the way to the bathroom?" Leslie asked with concern. "You can borrow my flashlight."

I wanted to throw Leslie's flashlight at Groban's head. Heh, acting so tough for Leslie that deep inside he was scared to death. But then again, I was doing the same thing as him.

Sort of.

"Yeah, of course. And I don't believe in ghosts, anyway," he replied with a grin, which I was sure was strained. "And I'll just use my phone for light."

Conrad laughed. "You sure, David Beckham Wannabe? Don't come back here running and screaming at the top of your lungs. And why didn't you use the toilet when we were at the area?"

"Because I'm not scared," he replied as he closed the door.

Conrad made a pffft sound with his mouth.

Sarah gazed around the room, a sad look on her face. "A beautiful mansion gone to waste."

000

A few minutes had passed, but Groban still didn't come back.

Conrad had started yapping in the dark about why we'd won in the play for the sophomore level and not their class after Groban had left to go to the bathroom.

Even now, he was still yapping.

Sarah exhaled in frustration. "Conrad, are you still not tired of complaining?"

"You should know, Salene Brodfierd, that I have to talk, even a little," Conrad replied calmly. "For me, talking is like breathing. If I can't talk, I'll explode. Even in my sleep, I still have to talk. You guys seriously don't want me in your future slumber parties—just sayin' in advance."

"You call that a little?"

"You could try praying while sitting," I suggested.

"I think that's still not gonna work."

"Nigel sure is late," Leslie said as she sat on the floor beside Conrad.

Sarah looked at her phone. "It's been twenty minutes already! We can't even text or call him because there's no signal in this place."

"If I know him, he's probably taking a dump," Conrad said with glee.

"We should go look for him," I said, starting to worry now, too, despite my silent rivalry with him. "Maybe Groban's lost in this huge mansion."

"But he's the 'assassin,'" he said with air quotes. "He should know how to keep his tracks."

Just then we heard a horrifying scream somewhere, and I couldn't help giving an involuntary shudder.

Leslie and Sarah gasped and hugged each other, which I was sure they hadn't noticed yet.

Under other circumstances, seeing them hugging each other like their lives depended on it might have been funny, but I didn't laugh.

"Dang it!" Conrad fumbled on his video camera. "I didn't get to record David Beckham Wannabe screaming. Please do pray he'll do it again so that I can record it this time, even just his scream."

Another scream erupted and Conrad let out a happy whoop, while the three of us were already shaking with fear—Sarah and Leslie suddenly gripping my arms tightly.

"Conrad," Sarah hissed.

"What?" He was still recording.

"You're not normal!"

He looked at Sarah like she just grew an extra head. "According to the Standford-Binet test, I have an IQ of one-hundred and seventy, so yes, I'm not normal. Thank you very much."

"That's not what I meant!"

Conrad rolled his eyes. "Don't panic! It's epidemic!"

"I'll panic if I want to!" Sarah snapped in an agitated voice. "Are you not even worried about him?"

"Sympathy is a dangerous emotion in this world," Conrad said darkly. "Who knows, maybe the 'ghost' is already eating David Beckham Wannabe's brain. As if it'll gain any nutrition from his brain, eh? Poor ghost, having the wrong victim."

"Ghosts don't even eat brains," Sarah pointed out. "I thought you were oh-so brilliant!"

"That was actually a joke."

"I know you, Conrad," I said. "You're as worried about Groban as the rest of us."

"True. But if we do save David Beckham Wannabe, please don't tell him I was worried. I don't wanna ruin a perfectly bad relationship."

"When," I corrected him.

"You noticed it too while we were at the bathroom earlier, Conrad, didn't you?" Leslie asked, regaining her composure.

Conrad turned to Leslie, now deadly serious. "Yeah. Even the window. There's something going on in this mansion, after all."

Sarah and I looked at each other, totally clueless. Before the two of us could ask what they meant, Conrad started pounding his fist into his hand. "Now this is interesting. I'll go look for him and find out who this mysterious person is."

As he was about to open the door, Sarah said, "Wait, I'll come with you."

Conrad raised an eyebrow at her, looked at me when I nodded, at Leslie—whose eyes were widened in shock—then back at Sarah. "Oo-kay," he said, uncertain. "Let's get going, Sasha Brauslin."

"I'm not gonna argue 'bout my name this time," she said with a frown.

"But we can't just wait here," I told them.

Leslie nodded in agreement. "We'll search for Nigel, too. Two search parties will be quicker, anyway."

Conrad and Sarah agreed.

"Be careful, Conrad, Bradfield," Leslie said.

Sarah gazed back at Leslie, surprise written on her face—even mine, too—and then nodded firmly. "You too, Burke, Jess."

Conrad winked while doing a hand salute. "Don't worry. I have science and logic on my side. And Sandra Brashfield has, well, me."

"Gee. I'm so honored," she flatly said.

I also said "be careful" to them.

Sarah and Conrad would go back to the bathroom. If Groban wasn't there, they'd explore the left side of the mansion, while Leslie and I explored the opposite side. Whoever found Groban first would whistle and go back to the guest bedroom.

We saw some double oak doors, so probably we were at the reception hall of the mansion.

The hall was tiled in black and white, lined with mahogany, with an ornate marble grand staircase—where Henry Alson had fallen and died—flowing down from the upper floor like a frozen waterfall with several paintings of landscapes and animals on the walls.

Just thinking about the body lying there at the bottom of the stairs with blood made me nauseous.

Leslie's hand slipped into mine. Under different circumstances, I'd be blushing to the max, but here in the dark, I was glad to know where she was. It was about the only thing I was sure of.

We ascended the grand staircase then turned to the left corridor.

"Nigel's scream earlier wasn't normal," Leslie whispered after a moment of walking. "Something has happened to him. I'm sure he saw...something."

"Then we should look for him fast." I opened a door, looking around the room.

Nothing.

But Leslie gasped. "Jess, look at that!"

I followed her inside and she handed me her backpack. We went to the side and gazed at a realistic painting of a tree house in a forest. But it looked familiar. Then it hit me like a blinding light. "I-is that...?"

Leslie nodded. "The castle of Terabithia."

She got a picture frame on a mahogany study table with many school books on it below the painting, and I aimed the flashlight on the frame.

The man at the middle of the picture was in his mid-fifties, bald with a brown beard. The woman at his left, who seemed to be in her forties, had long black hair, and at the other side was a guy in his twenties with a birthmark on his left hand. They were grinning at the camera like all perfect families did.

"That's Henry Alson—the man who died here seven years ago," I said, pointing to the man who was sitting in the chair. "Behind him are his wife, Trina, and son, Dimitri."

"This Dimitri is handsome," Leslie complimented. "I wonder how he and his mom are doing now in New York." Then she smiled sadly. "The piece earlier was sorrowful, don't you think so, Jess?"

I hadn't really listened to the music, because I'd been busy thinking such scary thoughts that time, but I nodded anyway.

"You get a sense of a bitter-sweet memory, or a tragedy," Leslie continued softly. "It's wallowing in self-pity or blubbering internally over some lost love."

I suddenly had an image of Leslie and Groban walking on a park while holding hands in my mind, but I quickly dismissed it.

Then I noticed something on the far side of the table. "Hey, there's another picture frame." I got it, and we saw a younger Dimitri and a curly blonde-haired girl—grinning widely together for the camera while doing a peace sign, the tree house behind them. I opened the frame from behind. There was a message written at the back of the picture.

Dimitri Alson and Veronica Hanley. Best of friends since November 06, 1994 until forever.

"This must be Dimitri's bedroom," I said in realization.

"They're like us, Jess," Leslie said in a small voice, opening the back of the frame that she was holding, but found nothing. "I wonder why they just left the pictures and the painting here, though."

I gazed again at the painting. "Does this mean they're the first owners of the tree house?"

"I believe so," Leslie replied. "There's a signature at the lower right: Bruno."

I looked closer at the artist's name. "This Bruno person sure is amazing and talented. I mean, look at how detailed and realistic the painting is."

"You're right. But I'm sure you could do better than that, Jess."

Suddenly we heard piercing screams erupting somewhere in the mansion. Leslie and I looked at each other in terror.

After the screaming had subsided, I shook my head. "Those were Sarah and Conrad's voices!"

Without thinking, I dashed out of the room to follow the screams earlier, forgetting my fears. It'd come from the first floor.

"Jess, wait!" Leslie yelped as she followed me.

I descended the stairs two steps at a time, and then turned to the left corridor.

Crap! This mansion's a deadly maze!

Luckily, I passed the bathroom and opened it. It was still the same as we'd left it, but I glimpsed something white moving at the corner of my eye. I turned and aimed my light to the right, but there was nothing. Was I just thinking too much?

Then I had a vision of a headless white lady—carrying her own head in her arms, looking at me directly with her hollow eyes—standing a few feet from my position.

I shook my head for the umpteenth time. Yep, definitely thinking too much.

I ran off down the corridor across the bathroom and opened the doors. At the front of the fourth door, I noticed something lying on the floor. I shined my light on it and gasped.

It was Conrad's video camera!

I put it inside Leslie's backpack, then turned around to ask her what she thought of this, but she wasn't behind me.

Great, I thought sarcastically. We split up.

Panic spread through me. I had to find Leslie before the person living here found her first, so I continued running around desperately.

Leslie, where the heck are you? I thought. Crap! If I see something out-of-this-world, I'll—Leslie!

I saw her at the end of the hallway—her back to me while holding her phone for light. But I noticed she wasn't moving. She stood paralyzed in her place, and I immediately understood why: there was a faint orange glow from the right side of the hallway, and I heard footsteps on the stone floor.

I turned off the flashlight while running towards her with stealth. When I reached her, Leslie nearly jumped out of her skin as I covered her mouth with my hands from behind and pulled her with me to the intersecting corridor. She almost screamed when I turned her around.

"It's just me, Les," I assured her.

"Jess," Leslie exhaled, "you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry."

We took a peek at the end of the corridor. The light was near now, the footsteps getting louder, and we could see a silhouette turn around the corner.

Then a woman wearing a black dress with long white hair that almost reached her knees marched out of the shadows, carrying a candle holder and pushing a dining cart loaded with foods and a pitcher of water.

We held our breath with gritted teeth. I'd have already fainted right here on the spot if Leslie wasn't gripping my arm too tightly. I tried to keep my legs from shaking and my gut from churning.

After a tense minute, she was gone. I exhaled in a somewhat relief. "W-was that a gh-ghost, Les?" I asked.

Leslie shook her head. "No. I looked closer. It was a person." She faced me. "She must be the Wicked One, Jess."

"Th-the one P.T. and I saw last week?"

Leslie nodded. "No doubt about it. We must follow her."

We turned around the corner and, after a minute of walking cautiously, we only saw a dead-end and an empty dining cart. I looked all around us with the flashlight.

"W-where did she go?" Leslie exclaimed, not caring if someone heard her. "There aren't even any rooms around here. The hall stops a little bit ahead of us."

I gulped thickly. "Maybe it was indeed a ghost, Les."

"No one's supposed to live here since that accident, right?"

I blinked. "Well, yeah."

"But why is the water still running?" Leslie pointed out. "And in that room with the opened window as we got inside, there were no traces of it being affected by the rain or wind. Meaning, that window was just opened very recently. The Wicked One is even using the secret entrance to come in and out of this mansion unnoticed. I'm sure she's the one that Nigel's classmate saw."

I remembered something while noticing a split on the floor. "So that's why you and Conrad were gazing intently at the faucet, and then Conrad pausing by the window, contemplating. You knew something was up when he did that."

"Yeah."

I kneeled down. "Les, there's a split in the dust on the floor." My eyes widened. "Wait, I think this is a..." I aimed the flashlight a little up ahead and saw a handle. "Another trapdoor! So the Wicked One went down here."

I gave the flashlight to Leslie and pulled the handle with all my might. Thankfully, it opened silently.

"Maybe this is where she's keeping Conrad, Nigel and Sarah," Leslie guessed.

I was surprised she'd used Sarah's...well, Sarah's first name for the first time. I think she didn't realize it. Still, there was hope for the two to become friends.

"Um, Jess, why're you smiling at me like that?"

I blinked. "Oh, er, nothing. C'mon, Les."

Leslie and I were nervous and intrigued at the same time to know what the secrets were beneath the door.

We held hands as we went down. The corridor here was made of stone walls. We could even hear water dripping somewhere ahead of us.

"The haunted castle's dungeon," Leslie whispered.

"Such a long corridor," I muttered.

We rounded another corner and saw a partially-opened door—faint light beaming out from it. We cautiously walked toward it and opened the door wider to see what was inside.

The room contained a single light bulb, a broom closet on the far left side, and a prison cell on the right side. Leslie and I silently walked into the room and faced the cell as she turned off the flashlight.

Her eyes widened. "I know I said this was the castle's dungeon, but seriously?"

"Leslie." I tried to sound calm, but deep inside I was already freaking out. "Someone's there. You see? The bed at the back."

A man with long black hair and beard wearing a plain gray T-shirt and jeans was covering his face with his hands. The man was thin, and his wrist bones and Adam's apple stood out prominently. He let out a hideous scream all of a sudden. It was unearthly—something between a high-pitched screech and a howl. A scream that was impossibly grating, discordant and harsh.

We backed away, horrified. Leslie and I had never seen or experienced something like this before.

For what had to be a full minute, the sound teared through our bodies. Then it ended abruptly.

"W-what's wrong with h-him?" Leslie asked while gripping my arm. She sounded really scared now.

"You were right last week, Les," I said, gulping. "The Wicked One really is keeping a prisoner. But how did you know?"

"I just guessed, remember?" she replied, shaking. "Because the Dark Master had an important prisoner five years ago, so I thought..."

I glanced at her, my eyes lighting up with understanding. I was glad to be free from my dad's shadows. All thanks to Leslie, my queen.

We looked at the door as we heard footsteps coming toward this room. I quickly dragged Leslie to the side of the closet where there was a space between it and the wall that had a broomstick, but fitted the two of us to hide.

I managed peeking as the door fully opened and saw the Wicked One coming in, carrying a tray with foods and water. I took a closer look at her. Wrinkles line her skin. And she had thin lips, a narrow beak of a nose, and a pointy chin.

She set it down on the floor in front of the cell. The two looked somehow familiar to me now.

"You had another nightmare, didn't you?" the Wicked One asked to the man in the cell. "There, there. Everything's gonna be all right," she said in a soothing voice.

The man was gasping for breath from his scream earlier.

I hugged Leslie, and she shivered in my arms—her heart pounding way too fast, her skin pale and cold. I felt her delicate frame pressed against mine. Her fingers tangled in my dark blue shirt, and I was sure she could feel the pounding beneath her palm.

"But it happened seven years ago, so it's time for you to forget about it," she continued. "No matter how much pain you put yourself through, dead people won't come back."

Leslie and I turned to each other, eyes widening in terror.

Dead people?

She must be talking about the man who'd died here. Then a bright light of understanding seemed to explode inside my head. Then those two were...

Leslie also realized it, because she squeezed my hand. Dimitri and Trina, she mouthed, nodding her head toward the two.

I looked at them again as Trina Alson pushed the tray gently inside the cell. "You should eat your food, Dimitri."

Dimitri seemed to be losing control over himself. He closed his eyes as he let out another ear-splitting scream and threw away the tray—plates breaking and the eating utensils clanging on the stone floor.

Trina recoiled. "I'm not keeping you here to punish you!" She held the cell bars desperately. "Dimitri, I'm doing this for your own future!"

"I see. Now I've figured it out," Leslie said so softly, I had to strain myself to hear her as she looked at me directly in the eye. "The secret of this mansion and the truth behind that accident."

The faint glow of the light bulb was just enough to illuminate her frightened face.

She shifted slightly in my arms, and the broomstick beside her started to fall down.

We started to panic, but I quickly fumbled to stop its fall by extending my foot—the stick landing on it. Leslie and I sighed silently in relief.

I rested my right hand at the side of the broom closet for balance as I got the broomstick. Little did I know that the inside of the closet was empty, because it moved a little to the side.

I heard a sound and looked up at the top of the closet to see a metal bucket wobbling, like a basketball does before entering the net for suspense.

Stay put now, please! I desperately pleaded in my mind.

But the bucket hated me, because it took a graceful dive to the floor.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Leslie and I witnessed the falling of the bucket—our eyes and mouths very wide in horror and defeat.

We flinched big time as the bucket reached the floor with three loud clangs!

The silence that followed was so deadly that it made me want for a black hole to swallow us into oblivion right there on the spot.

Then the Wicked One said, "It looks like there are more rats in addition to the three from earlier. Come on out. It's no use hiding! COME ON OUT!"

Game over.