“Holy fuck! Did you see it? The thing!” said a man’s voice—one of them—high and panicked.
Weakly, she attempted to fight, but whatever it was, it was too big, too strong—inhuman—and she was so tired, so weak. Dying. It picked her up effortlessly and ran, something clanging at its side, chanting as it moved, its voice gritty and unused. She caught one word, garbled but recognizable because of its strangeness: Novaatngar. She’d heard it before, recognized it from the legend the kid had told her. The Dark Place.
Oh God no. No no no.
Fat droplets of rain hit her face as another spear of lightning ripped the sky in two, shaking the ground and rattling her teeth.
But God will strike you down once and for all! He will pull you from your home and uproot you from the land of the living!
Perhaps Ms. Wykes had been right. Perhaps she was wicked after all. A sinner. And if the devil who had captured her allowed her to live, God Himself would strike her down. Kandace struggled weakly, the arms around her increasing their pressure. She felt them descending, the thing’s footsteps steady and sure as it maneuvered them down and over, navigating a steep incline. Her eyes cracked open and her equilibrium tilted dizzily so that she snapped her lids closed. She’d been looking into a bottomless pit, the entrance straight to hell.
The creature stopped suddenly and prickly brush scraped across her exposed flesh before she was laid down on hard, packed dirt. Kandace’s head swam, white pinpricks of light obscuring her vision as she grappled for something to cling to. Her head hit the ground with a soft thud. Her eyes closed and then cracked open, the stars that had danced in her vision fading momentarily. She looked straight into the face of the thing that had captured her and carried her there. Her stomach cramped and a scream rose to her throat that emerged as nothing but a horrified squeak. Oh God no. No. How could it . . . She tried to think. She tried to think but her thoughts scattered like dry leaves on a windy day. Kandace leaned over and wretched on the ground, moaning as she rolled back, her head hitting the ground again.
Behind her, the brush rustled as it was moved back aside and then the foliage fell back into place, closing out the moonlight to the space where she’d been left . . . alone.
The shock that had ricocheted through her at the sight of its face calmed to a dull throb of faraway concern. Her limbs felt weighted, her vision growing hazy again. Dreamboat. Little Dreamboat. The wind screamed past and the rainfall intensified, mixing with the retreating drumbeat. Competing noises echoed around her, blending, fading, growing louder and then fading again, lulling her to sleep. A pain ripped down her abdomen and she emitted a low moan.
Mommy, I want my mommy. She craved the safety of her mother’s embrace. Yes, she could admit to that longing now. She should have acknowledged it sooner. She should have grieved it and let it go. Oh, if only . . . if only.
Her hand went to her rounded stomach, which was drenched in blood. Another pain tore through her. I’ll do better, she thought. If given the chance, I’ll do better. For both of us.
Kandace used the final vestige of strength to curl her body, bringing her knees upward, and closing her eyes.
The drumbeat faded, along with everything else.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
“Is that it?” Haddie asked.
Scarlett glanced in her rearview mirror to see her seven-year-old daughter leaning forward, gaze focused on the statuesque white mansion, its gables rising proudly into the blue, California sky.
“Yes,” Scarlett said, stopping the car and staring at the structure. It’d seemed less imposing in the pictures she’d looked at online. “Lilith House,” she muttered. “Or at least it was. We can give it our own name though—anything we want. We can call it . . . Sunnyside Manor, or Happy Hill House . . . Haven Cottage maybe?” She shot Haddie a grin. “What do you think about that?”
“I don’t think you can just change a thing’s name,” Haddie murmured, her eyes still glued to the house. “Can you?”
Scarlett turned to look at her daughter’s serious expression. Haddie was always serious though. Too serious, Scarlett sometimes worried. An old soul, her friend Merrilee called her. She smiled, smoothing a lock of white-blonde hair away from her child’s angelic face. So serious. So beautiful. “I’ll check my rulebook on that, okay, kiddo? For now”—she unhooked her seatbelt—“let’s go introduce ourselves.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Scarlett set their suitcases down on the front porch as she input the code the bank had given her for the lockbox. The door let out a long, piercing squeak when Scarlett pushed it open, as though it had been rudely awakened from a deep sleep and was voicing its complaint at the intrusion. Maybe it was. After all, the house had sat empty and abandoned for the last thirteen years.
Haddie walked stoically next to her as Scarlett entered, stopping in the middle of the two-story foyer and looking around. A grand staircase curved upward directly in front of them, cobwebs stretching from the railing to the walls and glinting in the sunlight pouring through the large arched window above. The wallpaper—what she assumed had once been bright pink and yellow roses—was now dull and peeling. It gave off the sinister effect of dead flowers climbing the walls. A series of squeaks sounded from above and Haddie moved closer to her mother’s side. Surely ghosts reside here, she thought, or at least, that was the overall effect of the house where time had apparently stood still for over a decade. I’ve moved my daughter into what appears to be the quintessential haunted house, she realized with an internal grimace.
Her childhood friend Kandace had been here once. To think of that felt surreal. What was her reaction when she’d first stepped into this foyer? Had she thought it elegant? Probably not. Kandace had been used to homes far more opulent than this one.
“People died here, Mommy?” Haddie asked, bringing Scarlett from her wandering thoughts.
Scarlett’s gaze flew to her daughter. She must have heard her talking to Merrilee. Damn. She paused for a moment. “Not in the house, baby. But yes, there was a fire in a building out back. The students and the staff living here at the time were in that building and they didn’t get out.”
Haddie’s forehead screwed up uncertainly. She glanced at Scarlett as though she was only telling her a partial truth. Scarlett opened her mouth to offer some reassuring words when Haddie spoke first.
“What’s that smell?” Haddie wrinkled her pert little nose. Apparently, her daughter had moved on from the fire . . . and the deaths. Scarlett was only too happy to change the subject, even if the new topic was unpleasant as well.
“I don’t know,” Scarlett said, though she’d noticed it too. “Something might have died in the walls a long time ago. We’ll have to get an exterminator out here.” Or maybe it was just the mildew-ridden carpet she spotted through the open door of the room to their right. She set down their suitcases and went down on one knee in front of her little girl, looking into her wide green eyes and giving Haddie her most cheerful smile. “We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do around here, but I promise you this is going to feel like home before we know it, okay?” She held up her hand, curling all her fingers inward, except her pinkie. “Pinkie promise.”