The Haunting (Book #3 The Demon's Grave)

By E.M. MacCallum

One by one, they are losing the battle.

With the shock of death ringing in their ears, the group has to face one final test.

The Challenge is a classic haunted house and the creatures within are out to twist truths and reveal dark secrets.

Nora has to overcome her strange familiarity with the Demon's Grave as well as her infatuation with the demonic overlord, Damien. But, not everyone wants her there, and she could end up fighting for more than just her friend's freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M. MacCallum
• Release date: Aug 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9780994778260

E.M. MacCallum

E.M. likes long walks through book stores, anything Disney and stories featuring the fantastical, gothic or horrific.She grew up in southern Alberta, Canada.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Music echoed off the starry sky, drowning the lyrics in the chaotic bass. Silhouettes danced near the windows, oblivious to the group standing just outside. Multi-colored strobes flashed to the rhythm, illuminating the weather-beaten bricks surrounding the window frames.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.

Lots of people, said the nervous, delicate girl with shoulder-length chestnut hair. Robin's pale eyes appeared brighter with the layers of black eyeliner.

I gave her a second glance. She wasn't tattered and scraped but in a costume. She slid closer to Dracula - or rather, her boyfriend.

Cody Lewis sucked on a pair of plastic fangs noisily, making his narrow face appear skeletal. His bleached blonde hair, which was usually spiked, was slicked back for the part. He wore dark clothes and a high-collared cape, which clashed with his white sneakers. Cody was never a Halloween type, but Robin loved it.

Robin, a vampire's victim, wore a low-cut white dress that showed off the top of her lacy black push-up bra. Just a few minutes earlier, Phoebe had berated that Robin was, falling out, and it was making her uncomfortable. Robin kept pulling it up for Phoebe's benefit, but it'd fall back down on its own for Cody and Read's.

I didn't think people would know this place, Phoebe said, stepping ahead of us. Her limp was noticeable.

She hadn't dressed-up. Phoebe hated Halloween. She used to say: "It's an excuse for girls to dress up like sluts." Phoebe wore the same soiled tube top and shorts she wore into the Demon's Grave. I noticed the spiderweb veins running up her right leg from her ankle.

Shouldn't we get that looked at? I asked her.

No, Phoebe answered over her shoulder, honeyed locks waving. This is a dream, Fuller.

Joel's bulky shoulder pushed past me, probably trying to knock me over as he met up beside Phoebe. He also wasn't dressed up. He'd fashioned a scarf to sling his arm and keep his mutated hand up. The cloth around his missing thumb wasn't as soaked through as the last one. This is stupid, he said. Where are we?

"Come on, girls, are you just going to stand here and talk, or are we going to the party?" Cody asked and began to walk toward the slanted porch. There was something different about him. Cody rarely spoke, and when he did, it wasn't sarcastic.

Maybe Phoebe was right and it was a dream.

Joel growled at being called a girl but otherwise left it alone. His tanned skin had paled, making him look more like a corpse. What are you staring at? he asked me.

Sighing, I looked away and noticed someone behind us.

Aidan sat against the hood a red Maserati, elbows on his knees.

Aidan!

He didn't appear to hear me. He had his head tilted back as he stared at the second floor of the house. His dark roan-colored hair looked brown in the night. However, his icy blue eyes reflected moonlight and appeared to glow.

It had to be a trick of the light, and I tried a different angle. The effect remained the same.

Aidan, come with us, I called.

He waved at me to be quiet and pointed at his late grandfather's house.

The party within was full despite the lack of cars in the driveway. Only the Maserati was there, making me nervous. It tried to kill us once.

Looking to the tower at the edge of the house, I focused on the third floor. A forbidden place for Aidan as a child. Now we all knew why. It housed the Demon's Grave.

We can't let anyone get up to the third floor, I said.

We? You mean Aidan. Besides, he's already too late, Read said from the front yard.

Encased in the wooden fence-line was a fake cemetery. Tall, uncut grass had fallen over in yellow strips, revealing the plastic headstones and stick crosses. In the center of this display, Read sat cross-legged. His dark, usually primped, hair was matted to his skull. Read's sculpted cheekbones seemed to cave in even further than I remembered, and there were dark rims under his eyes. Don't go in, he said, his thin eyebrows raised worriedly. Just leave it alone.

We can't, I said softly.

Not dressed like that, Read countered.

What? I glanced down and saw the costume.

It was a baggy clown costume with the large, puffy, multi-colored balls for buttons and a ruffled collar that itched my throat.

My feet were loosely enclosed in the oversized red shoes. Reaching up, I touched my face and felt the red ball on the tip of my nose. Plucking it from my face, I said, Of all the costumes, I got a clown? What kind of subconscious is this?

The knocking sound made me look up to see Phoebe rapping on the front door while balancing on the precarious porch that leaned dramatically to the right.

Wait for me!

The door swung open, and Phoebe didn't look back.

People laughed and screamed inside, barely audible over the rhythmic beat.

I heard her shout one word before bolting inside without the rest of us. Read!

My head snapped to Read, who was still sitting in the graveyard. He shook his head at me, disappointed. It's not me.

Come on, Cody said to me and led Robin toward the front door.

Aidan? I called over my shoulder.

He didn't answer. In fact, he and the Maserati were gone.

Read? I asked and saw that he too had disappeared.

Swallowing hard, I hurried to catch up with the two on the slanted porch. It was hard keeping any dignity while scrambling in the clown shoes. But somehow I managed to stumble inside.

I ran right into Claire, who stumbled back, arms windmilling and auburn mane flying.

She wore slim-fitting jeans and had tied the pink zip-up hoodie around her narrow waist. Her tight t-shirt was ripped at the sleeves, but I didn't think it was part of a costume.

No! she shrieked as the front door slammed shut and disappeared into the wall. It was the only way out! You left Joel! she yelled, tears smearing her face and darkening around her eyes, making them look huge.

No, he's here. We're going to get you out, I tried to explain as she backed away, hugging herself. She bent as if suffering a stomachache.

Claire, I protested.

Sobbing, Claire ducked out of my reach and disappeared into the crowd. I started to follow, but the damn shoes caught on everything, making me slow and cumbersome.

To my surprise, all of the party-goers were black shapes, like shadows. None of them had faces or distinguishing characteristics outside of their silhouettes. They danced with each other as if I wasn't even there. I scanned the crowd for any sign of my friends. They should stand out in the crowd at this point, but I didn't see any of them—not even Claire, who'd just been there.

Alone, I spun around to see the staircase.

Standing upon it was a willowy figure with waist-length, dark brown hair and sad brown eyes. She motioned for me to follow.

The shock of seeing my twin sister again launched me forward.

As I brushed against the shadows, I realized they were solid. They bumped into me and I them as I shimmied my way toward the staircase. By the time I reached it, Neive was gone.

Carefully, I stepped over and around the people—or shapes of people—that sat on the steps. Neive, I called. Wait for me!

I kicked off the shoes, surprised that I could. For some reason, I had the idea that I couldn't. Freed of their weight, I rushed up the stairs in my socks.

The crowd on the second floor was even more claustrophobic.

I had to twist my body to avoid the people in the hallway. Though I was close enough to hear voices, I couldn't decipher what they were saying. It wasn't English. It wasn't any language I could distinguish.

I staggered past a couple making out—at least that's what I hoped it was. I sidled around the oversized, shadowy, writhing mass and flung open the first bedroom. To my surprise, the bedroom was empty.

This was weird. The entire house was jammed tight, and everyone avoided the chance to fill up the space of the bedroom?

Making my way back into the hallway, I checked every curiously vacant room until I noticed the staircase leading to the third floor.

I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. It was forbidden to go up there. Was it still?

Someone bumped me from behind, making my decision for me. Stumbling up a few steps, I flailed for the walls for balance. I glanced back; it was hard to tell who pushed me. Nothing but shadows milled about, oblivious of me.

Okay, I thought to myself, attempting to steady my erratic nerves. This is just like Phoebe said. It's just a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream.

I took a few cautionary steps up the circular stairs, one hand on the gritty brick wall for balance.

I could see in the dark, but I wasn't sure how.

The archway leading to the top floor was a brick, circular room devoid of dust. The roof arched to a point above my head.

Inside, the dark room had a singular window allowing streaming moonlight. It was just enough to see the shape of the old familiar room.

Aidan and I had come back to check this room when we were searching for the Grave the second time. There was, of course, nothing to help us. We had to find the hard way back in.

Here I am, except it's just a dream.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the threshold.

Dread crept up my spine as I twisted to see the wall had replaced the door I'd come through.

Trapped, I wrung my clown suit with my hands, my palms damp. Well? I asked the dark and cleared my throat. Are you going to come out?

It was as if he were made of the shadows. Solidifying from a blacked mist, the shape melded together to form his outline and fade into colors.

Damien's pale skin was the first noticeable attribute, followed by the high cheekbones, low brow, and straight black eyebrows. A smug smirk creased his full lips, and I felt my heart squeeze. It was so easy to forget how handsome he was sometimes.

The long-sleeved shirt couldn't hide the broad build to his shoulders and V-shape of his body. He wasn't built like Joel, who was broadly muscular, but Damien wasn't lean like Cody either. Black pants matched the short raven hair and the bottomless eyes that gauged my outfit with nothing short of amusement.

The man was perfection. Nothing should look like him. Nothing human anyway. It was unnerving to see him all over again, and I took a deep breath to disguise the fact that I'd stopped breathing for a heartbeat or two.

Where's Neive? I asked, trying to ease the terrible sound my heart made in my ears.

A few strands of his shiny jet-black hair fell over his stark forehead when he canted his head.

My sister, I said cautiously.

Hm. Damien's obsidian eyes glistened like hot tar.

Feeling the frustration build, I glowered at him. The girl who was sacrificed. She's trapped here. Why?

She was sacrificed, Nora. Given to me willingly.

And thought to be dead for the last sixteen years, I thought bitterly.

Does that mean she's your Neophyte? I asked. Your apprentice to this place?

He shook his head, the smile disappearing. No one ever said she was trapped here.

If she can escape, then why is she here? If she's not your Neophyte… I raised my eyebrows, trying to sort it out in my head. I'd never come back if I had a choice. Why would she?

"Neive is sometimes unpredictable. Like you, she has demonic blood. She has the ability to manipulate the Challenges and sometimes other people with demonic blood."

Like you and me? I asked, feeling feverish.

Yes, like you and me, Damien replied patiently. But I'm stronger.

"Then you let her go? I asked. Could she join us in the Challenge?"

No, she has a nasty habit of influencing the games.

Somehow, the memory of vomiting the long hair surfaced. It had been a punishment for Neive, not me. Did that mean Neive still cared? She tried to jailbreak me just before…I glanced around the dream…before this.

Seeing Damien's scrutinizing gaze, I asked, What about when we win? Could she come with us?

Damien's eyebrows raised, humoring me. Thinking you're going to win already? You haven't even seen what I have in store for you.

Taking a step back, I realized he was right. I was being cocky. I shouldn't do that in front of him, of all people. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.

There was something frighteningly predatory in the way he stepped toward me. Of course you didn't.

I stepped back and hit the wall behind me. You won't hurt her, will you?

The smile grew wider, flashing teeth. Concerned? You barely know this girl. What makes it so important that she comes with you?

She's my sister, I said, as if that should explain everything. Did you have siblings?

Damien narrowed his eyes, but he didn't answer.

I hugged myself, and the puffy buttons from my costume squished uncomfortably against my chest. Well? Are you going to hurt her? I asked, harsher than I'd intended. His proximity was beginning to grate my nerves. He wanted me scared, and much to my dismay, I was thrilled with his closeness rather than scared.

That is up to her, he said.

It was a ray of hope, small but still there. I bit my lips together and nodded, determined to hide my enthusiasm. What if I could take her home with me? What would our parents think? What would they say? The possibilities piled on top of each other. They had hidden her picture to try and forget. What would happen if I brought Neive home?

Damien's dark gaze rolled down my baggy clown costume before returning to my face, his expression unreadable.

You picked it, I accused, blushing.

I thought this was your dream, Damien answered coyly.

So you're not here? I asked.

Never said that.

I sidled along the wall, away from him. Why are you here then?

There are objects you must find, Damien answered, moving with me. Except his step was disturbingly polished compared to mine.

Pressing my back harder against the wall, I wasn't able to gain much distance, but the movement had been instinctive. The last time he'd gotten too close, I almost did something stupid. I'd almost kissed him. Being close made me heady sometimes. I wanted clear thoughts when addressing the Demon's Grave.

What kind of objects do we have to find?

Rings. There are eight hidden throughout the house. One for each player.

Hidden? You mean that you hid them in this house? I asked and pointed to the ground.

Damien mocked my motion and smirked. "They are in a house. Not this one."

What do these rings do? My skin bristled as he took another step forward.

They will be the only way to pass from this world to yours at the end of the Challenge. If you don't have a ring, you don't go home. He stepped again, drawing closer and closer.

Something else? I asked, curling my fingers into a fist.

Yes, he said.

The fingernails biting into my palms helped regulate my breathing again. The last thing I wanted was for him to see how nervous I was, though I doubted my success.

He took the last step. Your influence on this place will be different. I felt his cool breath on my face. It took all of my effort not to look away, to keep my eyes level with his without flinching.

He could destroy me if he wanted to. But he wouldn't do that to a future Neophyte, I thought.

The power? I asked. How?

You will see.

I frowned, seeing I was getting nowhere. He was going to make me find out the hard way. Why did you let Neive protect me in the last Challenges? I asked.

He must have known.

Seeing the sparks dancing in his dark eyes unnerved me. He slowly reached up a hand and touched my blonde hair, smoothing it away from my face. The movement was gentle and unlike everything I'd expected. I'd forgotten my resolve to appear unafraid and flinched.

No more questions, he said firmly, his lips so close to mine I thought I could feel a warmth. I didn't move to stop him, but I held very still, inviting while dreading it at the same time.

Don't think, I commanded. It's just a dream. None of this is real. Maybe I'd wake up in my room…or a padded one.

He stopped in that last inch. Perhaps it was my sudden stillness, or when I started to hold my breath, or maybe it was never his intention to kiss me and I was delusional. He dropped his hand slowly from my hair, fingertips trailing gooseflesh against the side of my face. Ah, one last thing…

What? I asked, letting out my breath, in a slight daze.

Nothing in this world could have prepared me for the slap.

It was so swift that I hardly saw his hand move in the dim light. The cracking sound rang in my ears. I stumbled to the side, and my knees almost tangled against Damien's legs. Clawing the wall for support, I reached up to touch the throbbing spot on my cheek. I was speechless but not helpless.

Spinning, I swatted at him.

He probably could have stopped me, but he let me hit him. I'd never slapped anyone before, and now I knew why. My palm stung with a hundred needles. I leaned back against the wall, curling my hand into a fist while the other touched the heated skin on my own face. I stared at him, appalled.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

I needed to send you back with proof, he said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. I was pleased to see him suck in the cheek I'd hit, like maybe it'd hurt him a little.

Proof of what? I snapped.

He actually appeared annoyed. That this isn't really a dream, Nora. I can hear your little head in this state. After a brief pause, he added in an apathetic tone, all the warmth drying up, If you'd rather, I can send you back bleeding.

CHAPTER TWO

I snapped my hands up to defend myself, but he was gone and so was the circular brick room.

Propped upright on the landing, I found myself looking up the stone stairs to a wrought iron gate. Beyond that was a starry sky, twinkling, calm, and inviting.

Below the stairs where I sat were two concrete coffins. Torches whispered within the tomb, flinging erratic light in a wind I couldn't feel.

Silence stretched, below and above, leaving no indication of being watched —yet.

I touched my cheek; the heat had faded, though it was still tender from the blow. That bastard, I thought angrily. He could hear my thoughts and…crap! He could hear my thoughts!

I was fully awake now and bundled in the itchy wool blanket. If I heard my thoughts, I might be mad too. This wasn't good. Thus far, I'd been protected, but what about now? He hadn't said anything about becoming a Neophyte in the dream.

Rubbing my face with one hand, I pulled down the blanket to make sure I wasn't still in the clown costume. The chilly air invaded and goosebumps trailed like ants up and down my arms.

I looked down at my dirt-stained pajamas. The thin T-shirt and penguin-decorated shorts wouldn't provide much protection.

Wrapping the blanket back around me, I let the warmth invade again. Comfortable, I eased to my swollen feet. The sleep, though desperately needed, was uncomfortable. Every muscle ached as if it had been the day after a long work out.

My stomach gurgled as I leaned against the wall, still covered but at least standing.

I wondered if there was food nearby. And if there was, would I eat it? The image of Joel's severed thumb falling to the dusty ground in a roll forced me to physically shake the memory away.

Time to focus, Nora. I looked up at the stars above.

Gripping the blanket around my shoulders, I made my way up the stone steps, my socked feet making no sound.

Stopping in the doorway, I faced a cemetery.

A gothic iron fence surrounded the crypt. The rusted gate propped open crookedly, the top hinge having come apart, leaving the bottom to drag.

I took a deep breath. It smelled like damp, freshly cut grass, making me homesick. I thought of my parents, of my little sisters…of Aunt Nell or should I say, Mom.

Focus, I reminded myself with a grimace.

Neive had said to make it to the house. Twisting in a circle, I couldn't see a house in any direction. It was tombstones for as far as I could see, rows upon rows of them. If it wasn't graves, it was tombs on either side of me or fat trees that looked like they'd been there forever.

Hugging the blanket tighter, I felt anxiety building. Where were my friends? What if I didn't make it to the house?

Staring at the line of neighboring sepulchers, I knew that I'd prefer to walk away from them. The narrow buildings were too close together and shadowed. Maybe I could walk through the cemetery. There were trees to hide behind if I needed.

Feeling a twinge of relief at the idea, I started to walk along the edge of the crypts. I kept a few rows of tombstones between the buildings and me.

The air was electric. Insects didn't hum, owls didn't hoot, and no traffic sounded in the distance.

The further I ventured, the thicker the trees and the more unkept it appeared. Gravestones looked more like stone slabs, chipped and brushed clear of names and dates. The lawn wasn't manicured past a certain point, though I couldn't recall where.

Odd trees crowded together. One had knocked a tombstone over with an overzealous root that arched out of the ground.

Walking around the trees and careful not to trip, I saw they'd grown thicker than the graves.

My steps slowed as I realized I might have made a mistake.

I stared at a forest instead of an urban area. Weren't there usually houses around cemeteries? I had seen the obscure little cemeteries along the highway before, but there'd only been a few dozen headstones. They weren't as big as this one.

This isn't the land of logic, though, I concluded and leaned against the nearest white-barked birch. Chewing on my lower lip, I tugged at the blankets around me, trying to make sense of my situation.

I was alone. I didn't have any of my friends this time. They'd guided me up to this point, mostly. I had Aidan all through the first Challenge, and I had Phoebe throughout most of the second.

Then there was the subject of Neive. I felt my insides twist. She was alive. I wasn't sure why I felt guilty that I hadn't suspected that she could be. She'd been watching this whole time. I couldn't just let her stay here, could I?

Maybe Damien was right; I didn't know this girl anymore. Yes, she was my twin, but I didn't know her. She could be on Damien's side for all I knew. Some sort of trick. Maybe she wasn't Neive at all but part of Damien's game.

Feeling a burning streak of resentment, I pushed away from the tree.

He had been using this memory against me since the beginning. Why stop now?

It was an idea anyway. Could she have survived all this time? And if so, where? Here? Damien said she could wander, so why didn't she come home? She'd been here since the age of five; she couldn't have fended for herself. Damien or someone had to have helped her. Maybe that was why he didn't want to let her go with us. Maybe, just maybe, Damien felt love.

Maybe it was paternal. He would have had to raise her, watch her grow up.

But Damien wasn't a parent; he was a demon. Part, I reminded myself. He was part human too. That still didn't explain why Neive never came home. Did she love him too? Or felt she owed him something?

I touched my cooled cheek. He tried to kiss me. Had he tried with Neive too?

Frowning, I clutched the blanket tighter. The last thing I needed to do was think about him.

Trudging through the ankle-tall grass, I hopped over tombstones. I had to refrain from apologizing to the imaginary corpses I stepped over.

Though I'd take this over a frozen landscape and an abominable snowman.

Swinging around a thick oak tree, I saw a belly-crawling mist rolling and curling over itself to get closer. My stomach flipped, as it was moving faster than normal mist.

Glancing over my shoulder, I stopped moving and listened to the pregnant silence. Keeping my eyes wide, I watched the shimmering shadows and imagined movements more than actually seeing any. The cover from the trees had darkened the area. This was a mistake. At least before I had full stars and a slivered moon.

I struggled to control my short, shaky breaths, straining to see any sign of danger.

A rumble at my feet was barely enough warning. Dirt exploded beneath me, blinding and stinging my eyes. Screaming, I flailed my arms, and the world tilted.

The blanket cushioned my fall, leaving me less winded than I would have been otherwise. Eyes watering through the grass and dirt, I scrambled to my feet, leaving the blanket behind.

A high-pitched scream, like that of an eagle, brought my attention to what burst free.

It was blurry through the tears at first. The dark grey glob floated over the open grave. It had basic human shapes with a few distinct deformities.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my arm, I got rid of most of the dirt.

The thing had long arms, and bulbous knuckles that were nearly touching the ground. The legs were stout but curled up into folds of grey skin.

Suddenly, I wished for the dirt back in my eyes.

Layers of loose skin folded from the dirty skull and belly in flaps. Pointed bat-like ears perched high on either side of its rounded head. Its nose was wide and flat, nostrils flaring holes just above a lipless mouth. Abnormally large eyeballs lined with vivid red veins glowed in the dim light. I realized in a heart-stopping moment that they were focused on me.

I swallowed the string of curses that first came to mind as I backed away several more steps.

The thing floated closer. Its blank expression was deceiving. It couldn't be thinking of anything pleasant. The sinister-looking creature advanced, pushing me back.

I didn't run. I wasn't sure I could outrun this floating catastrophe of nature.

My head spun with ideas. I needed to get away from it somehow.

Was it herding me? It hadn't attacked yet.

Shifting to the right, the creature paused, stopping in mid-air. Those disturbing eyes never wavered as I side-stepped, giving it a wide berth. As I inched past its shoulder, the thing shrieked. The piercing sound made me jump. The thing landed on the ground and ran at me on fat, tiny legs. It could have been comical on any other day.

Yelling in surprise, I stepped back the three steps, hands up to fend