parlor, pausing by the large mirror which had damage
stains marring its surface.
"It won't do any good," a voice said
and Anne froze, her breathing stopping. She knew that voice, but
she was too afraid to look. Iciness crept up her spine and her skin
contracted. Her hair from the back of her head and down her arms
stood painfully. She didn't dare look.
Closing her eyes, she wished it would
go away, but she'd heard it so clearly. Drawing in a breath, she
opened her eyes again, seeing Alfie in the mirror. He was looking
straight at her. It wasn't a friendly look, direct and challenging.
He looked pale, almost blue. "Oh, I'm not the one you need to worry
about," he said slowly.
Anne's mouth had gone completely dry and she
couldn't speak even if she wanted to. Her knees threatened to give,
but she was too scared to even fall down. Alfie moved closer,
standing behind her. He was tall. He leaned over to her ear, still
watching her in the mirror. "He's coming for you." He grinned, then
faded.
Panic soared through Anne. She felt like
running, like screaming. Her only instinct was to find Lisle, the
only other person around. Her feet moved and she slipped before
recovering and pushed her way into the kitchen.
"What's the matter with you?" Lisle said.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, which isn't really all that
wonder in a house like this." Lisle snorted.
"I saw him, bright as day," Anne said.
"Alfie; he spoke to me.”
"Don't be stupid," Lisle said sharply.
"You're imagining things. It's this house. It's so lonely, it
drives people mad."
Anne didn't know where to put her hands and
they shifted around her, before settling tightly to her chest. "I
think he threatened me."
"Then it couldn't be Alfie."
"He wasn't the saint you made him out to
be," Anne said harshly, not interested in Lisle's rose-colored view
of the boy.
"Well, you didn't know him. I did."
"I think we need to leave."
"And go where? It's dark and we're miles
from anywhere."
"We could go to the Turners’." Mr.
Turner's warning came back to her, not to go running around the
moors at night. They would get lost and wander aimlessly, probably
freeze to death on a night like this. Maybe that was what the
spirits wanted, to maliciously drive them out of the house to face
their demise on the cold moors.
"You're being ridiculous.
Go to bed. Don't be so weak and give into your paranoia." Lisle
said it with such finality it was clear she didn't want to listen
to anything Anne said. Anne felt offended and scared. Lisle was the
only person who could listen and she refused
to. She'd seen Alfie the other night and had now dismissed it as
some cocked up delusion, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes
and heart had told her.
But then maybe Lisle was right. They
had to stay calm and to stay put. This house was the thing that
kept them warm and alive—perhaps not safe, but leaving was certain
death. Maybe there were spirits and their threats were merely idle
words, designed to terrorize. If it wasn't for the fact that Alfie
had died, she would be quite happy to believe that. Saying that;
Alfie hadn't died of fright, shivering under his blankets. He'd
invited them, maybe even invited them to take his life.
Marching out of the kitchen, Anne found the
burning sage where she'd left it. She wasn't going to trust the
words of a spirit. It might not even be Alfie, instead something
taking his form—something that wanted her to stop burning the
sage.
With steel in her spine, she walked around
the rooms and the hallways with shaking hands, even Lisle's room,
and let the smoke wisp its way into every part. The idea that the
sage did nothing was terrifying. It meant she had no protection.
Then again, the spirit that resembled Alfie had appeared while she
was burning it. It may be useless, but it was all she had and she
wasn't ready to give it up.
Anne returned to her room and coaxed the
fire in her grate. It kept the worst of the cold away. Frost had
started creeping up
stains marring its surface.
"It won't do any good," a voice said
and Anne froze, her breathing stopping. She knew that voice, but
she was too afraid to look. Iciness crept up her spine and her skin
contracted. Her hair from the back of her head and down her arms
stood painfully. She didn't dare look.
Closing her eyes, she wished it would
go away, but she'd heard it so clearly. Drawing in a breath, she
opened her eyes again, seeing Alfie in the mirror. He was looking
straight at her. It wasn't a friendly look, direct and challenging.
He looked pale, almost blue. "Oh, I'm not the one you need to worry
about," he said slowly.
Anne's mouth had gone completely dry and she
couldn't speak even if she wanted to. Her knees threatened to give,
but she was too scared to even fall down. Alfie moved closer,
standing behind her. He was tall. He leaned over to her ear, still
watching her in the mirror. "He's coming for you." He grinned, then
faded.
Panic soared through Anne. She felt like
running, like screaming. Her only instinct was to find Lisle, the
only other person around. Her feet moved and she slipped before
recovering and pushed her way into the kitchen.
"What's the matter with you?" Lisle said.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, which isn't really all that
wonder in a house like this." Lisle snorted.
"I saw him, bright as day," Anne said.
"Alfie; he spoke to me.”
"Don't be stupid," Lisle said sharply.
"You're imagining things. It's this house. It's so lonely, it
drives people mad."
Anne didn't know where to put her hands and
they shifted around her, before settling tightly to her chest. "I
think he threatened me."
"Then it couldn't be Alfie."
"He wasn't the saint you made him out to
be," Anne said harshly, not interested in Lisle's rose-colored view
of the boy.
"Well, you didn't know him. I did."
"I think we need to leave."
"And go where? It's dark and we're miles
from anywhere."
"We could go to the Turners’." Mr.
Turner's warning came back to her, not to go running around the
moors at night. They would get lost and wander aimlessly, probably
freeze to death on a night like this. Maybe that was what the
spirits wanted, to maliciously drive them out of the house to face
their demise on the cold moors.
"You're being ridiculous.
Go to bed. Don't be so weak and give into your paranoia." Lisle
said it with such finality it was clear she didn't want to listen
to anything Anne said. Anne felt offended and scared. Lisle was the
only person who could listen and she refused
to. She'd seen Alfie the other night and had now dismissed it as
some cocked up delusion, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes
and heart had told her.
But then maybe Lisle was right. They
had to stay calm and to stay put. This house was the thing that
kept them warm and alive—perhaps not safe, but leaving was certain
death. Maybe there were spirits and their threats were merely idle
words, designed to terrorize. If it wasn't for the fact that Alfie
had died, she would be quite happy to believe that. Saying that;
Alfie hadn't died of fright, shivering under his blankets. He'd
invited them, maybe even invited them to take his life.
Marching out of the kitchen, Anne found the
burning sage where she'd left it. She wasn't going to trust the
words of a spirit. It might not even be Alfie, instead something
taking his form—something that wanted her to stop burning the
sage.
With steel in her spine, she walked around
the rooms and the hallways with shaking hands, even Lisle's room,
and let the smoke wisp its way into every part. The idea that the
sage did nothing was terrifying. It meant she had no protection.
Then again, the spirit that resembled Alfie had appeared while she
was burning it. It may be useless, but it was all she had and she
wasn't ready to give it up.
Anne returned to her room and coaxed the
fire in her grate. It kept the worst of the cold away. Frost had
started creeping up
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