“It’s now or never.”
Carter’s heart whispered in his ears as he looked at his boss’s, Mr. Base’s, mansion. He was too nervous and too focused to feel the icy rain trickle into the collar of his coat and down his back.
The mansion was dark, the windows black pools of nothing. They stared unseeing at the road. Carter had been staring at it for some time. He knew that the residents had gone out for the evening. He hadn’t seen them leave, but he knew their timetables. There was some sort of gala going on, and Mr. Base and his husband never missed a gala.
Carter pulled up his collar and walked over the road, over the wet grass, and down the side of the house. Where even if there were people out at this time, they wouldn’t have seen him. With a knife in his hand, he struggled as he shimmied the window lock open. It was more difficult than when he practiced at his own house, but with some effort, it opened just the same.
He climbed in, not noticing the drops of rain following him inside. He also didn’t notice that there was a cigarette still smoldering as it burned into the carpet. All he noticed was the pristine living room lit with the glow of the fireplace. He wondered why it was left alight, but dismissed the thought as he shut the window behind him.
The room held so much art that if he sold it, he could buy a new horse, a new watch, and keep him and his family fed for months to come. But that wasn’t what he had come for. Besides, it would be too difficult to pawn and too easy to trace back to him if he had. He was after the coins and jewelry. If he had the nerve, he would also like one of those fancy suits that Mr. Base always wore with such pride. But Carter wasn’t a brave man.
With only the moonlight and the faint light of the fireplace to guide him, he tip-toed across the room.
A sound.
He froze.
His hair rose as if static electricity pulled at its ends.
For a moment he thought he heard something upstairs. But the wind gusted by the window, beating the house as it creaked and groaned. As if it was screaming.
Like it really didn’t want him there or was trying to warn him away.
He gave himself a stern talking too and looked outside, just to check if Mr. Base hadn’t decided to take the carriage home early.
He shook off this thought, he needed to hurry. Carefully he stepped over to the staircase. And then, Walking as quietly as he could, up the stairs. Mindful to only step on the outsides of the stairs to not make a sound -he learned that from a detective novel- not that anyone was home to hear him if he didn’t. But it eased his worrying mind. He tried to control his breathing as he took each step slowly. He could hear each breath loudly in his ears. But as the breathing got faster, more ragged, he soon realized that it wasn’t his breath he heard. As he quickly held his breath, the sound continued. It took every part of him had to not run away, but he needed the money. Desperately.
This was in his head. It must be. It was his nerves, or the wind.
Gripping his knife tighter, he held it in front of him, even though he had no desire to use it.
Getting to the top of the stairs, he tiptoed over the luxurious landing carpet. And with each step nearer to his goal he felt a rising panic. He was a good man, or rather, he had been an honorable man most of his life. He was a kind husband and a loving father. But hunger was a strong motivator. He refused to starve while his boss went to galas and ate until his fat belly almost burst.
Ahead he saw an open doorway.
No turning back.
He had to go in.
He was in this too far.
He pushed the door further open.
But what he saw made his breath stop.
He quickly closed his eyes.
This can’t be real. This can’t be real.
This had to be a trick of the shadows.
He slowly opened his eyes again and yelped as he clasped his hand over his mouth in shock.
In the center of the room was a figure. Hovering in the air. Its head was crooked at an unnatural angle and its hands twitched. Strangled gasps came from it as if it were being hanged by an invisible rope.
It took him a moment to register that the terrifying figure wasn’t the only one in the room. Silhouetted in front of the window was someone else. “I wondered how long it would take you to get up here,” a female voice said, Such a pity.”
The hanging figure whimpered as it turned in the air, staring at him in desperation. It was Mr. Base.
Carter’s grip on the knife tightened, as he remembered a story his mother had told him about Psygnosts. Was this one?
Carter’s heart hammered in panic, and he thought of his daughter, waking up this morning without her father. It was when he thought of her, he felt himself being pulled. Moving across the air by a painful force, until he came face to face with Mr. Base.
By the window, the figure stepped forward into the moonlight. Her hair was long and unkempt, the coat she wore hung on her gaunt frame.
Mr. Base, still being strangled, stared at Carter and whimpered again as he tried to speak. But as he did, bones started to break in his body one by one, and as they did blood bubbled out of his mouth.
“What is your business here?” The female voice asked.
Carter turned, but not by his own free will. Terrified of the woman, he was unable to answer. Mr. Base’s gurgles a sickly soundtrack that echoed throughout the room.
She clucked her tongue impatiently. “Who are you?”
“I- I am an employee of Mr. Base,” he stuttered. “My name is Carter.”
“Welcome Carter, to our little get-together. I am afraid you just missed the other Mr. Base.” She turned and motioned to a large mass on the carpet next to her. A lifeless heap hidden in shadow.
As she turned back to Carter he could see that she looked more skeletal than flesh. Her eyes were too big for her head and looked almost like a beetle as they bulged out.
“I don’t understand…” Carter said, trying to move.
She cackled loudly, and Carter thought it sounded like the last bit of sanity had trickled out of her a long time ago.
He wanted to run back down the stairs, jump out of the window, and flee back home. But fear had him in its grasp. She had him in her grasp.
The woman took a step forward. Two more steps. Until she was in front of him. From here he saw her shoulders rise and fall. Some sort of metallic wire held together a scar over her right cheek. It glinted dully in the moonlight.
Gripping his knife tight, he tried to summon all his strength.
It was now or never.
In a flash, he went to strike at the woman, but as he did, something invisible wrapped around him like a fist, holding him in place. His muscles as his chest constricted. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream.
The woman’s voice dripped mockery as she leaned closer, her too-large eyes shining in the darkness. “Did you think it would be that easy?”
Nausea hit Carter as he felt his feet leave the floor.
Mr. Base whimpered again next to him as words finally managed to fall out of his strangled mouth, “I told her you would come, Carter,” he gurgled.
Turning, Carter saw the twisted face of Mr. Base suddenly contort in a terrifying smile.
“I’m bored of you now,” the woman said and with a sweep of her hand, she threw Mr. Base to the side of the room. His body hit the wooden wall with a bone-shattering force and he dropped to the floor. A low gurgled breath left him, then all was silent.
“This is all about you,” the woman said as Carter's fingers, one by one, bent in an unnatural direction.
Carter saw the sun come up and shine through the window. The woman had left him crumpled on the ground. Blood had pooled under him, but he was alive.
His vision was blurred and his eyes were dry and painful. But he saw the warm glow of the sun. He couldn’t move. And he wondered if this was hell. His heart still beat, and his lungs worked. But he couldn’t move a muscle.