The wind howled against the side of the trees, striking the water with a crash as the waves bellowed and swirled. The hail shattered against Jonah’s glasses as he pushed through the lake. The water was golden and yet still appeared gray in the cold moonlight. As he continued to wade through the water, the tide rose up, splashing in his ears and nose. The water did not feel like water but more like a sticky gel digging into his pores, cementing in and around his skin. Soon the gel overtook him, pulling him deep under its crushing waves, filling his lungs and clogging his nose. As his eyes began filling with the gel, blinding him, the lake drained like a cork pulled from a tub, effectively pulling him down a whirling vortex, breaking through the soil, carrying him down into the abyss. As he fell, the gel emptied from his eyes, allowing him to see again. His fall was stopped by the gelatinous goo hanging him upside down like a long strand of saliva dripping down the mouth of a wild animal. The walls drained, the golden goo seeping out like sap from a tree.
He looked down into the darkness of the abyss. The cackles and screams echoed up to him as he hung suspended in midair. The familiar scratching and screeching echoed from the abyss as thousands of blue-eyed imps began crawling up the side of the wall, slashing through the goo with every jump and scream. Jonah let out an empty and hollow scream. His mouth had been stuck closed by the goo that filled it. He squirmed as it tightened around his face and mouth. The imps leapt onto the hanging strand, swaying it in the cavern, swinging him against the walls, effectively sticking him to wall like a fly to a spider’s web. The imps crowded around him throwing heaps of goo onto his body and face till he was covered completely, suffocating him with every heap. Each one took turns digging into his stomach and neck, biting and chewing until the flesh was torn away, leaving nothing but the goo in its place. He attempted to crawl away but the without flesh or bone, he merely broke and reformed with every ineffective swat and crash of his hands and feet. The imps used their nails and scraped him off the wall, throwing his gelatinous body down the abyss.
He fell down the, passage tumbling under himself. His arm would break free and a new one would grow in its place. His body landed hard on a pile of red stones and old tempered wood. The gelatinous golden-goo body seemed to be holding better and he tried to walk. The overwhelming feeling of heat dug into his arms, neck, and head as if he was standing on the surface of the sun. Cracking and blistering as the heat became unbearable and he collapsed on the stone. The imps surrounded his now burned, brittle body once again. The largest one took its back foot and slashed, cutting his body in half. With another swing of its nails, it sliced Jonah’s head completely off, impaling him through the neck, lifting him up so he could see them devour his body. His eyes focused on two similar heads, both also constructed out of the golden molten goo. He recognized them immediately as Samson and Ashlyn, both impaled on long golden spears, screaming loudly as a shower of white gray liquid flooded the heated place, drowning the entire room.
Jonah sat up. His face was wet, and his neck was soaked. He looked over to window to the right of him. The latch had been knocked loose by the wind, and rain was blowing in on his face. He stepped out of bed, letting his feet feel the softness of the carpet. He couldn’t have asked for a better room. The walls, like the main hallway, were gray and stone with a vaulted ceiling, giving his room a castle-like feel to it. Across from the California king bed was a large oak bookcase. Like the one on the train, it had limited edition volumes from all over the globe, spanning even to multiple indigenous tribes. Even his campus library did not have such treasures. Next to it was a wall of old weapons. Flintlock handguns and muskets from the Revolutionary war. Colt 45 revolvers from the Civil War. Medieval flails and war hammers. Each one displayed perfectly with the date made it seem like it was a perfect transplant from a museum. Next to the window was the large bathroom with a gray marble tub, two sinks, and freshly heated tiles. He didn’t feel overly dirty but knew before he left this home, he was going to use that bathtub. Lastly was the window. A floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the waterfall and the lake. The size of it startled Jonah at first but the more he looked out to the lake, the more he felt like he was standing in the captain’s quarters on a ship looking out onto the ocean for the first time.
He brushed the moisture off his face, feeling down his shirt to the sweat that had built up so much that he felt that he was almost swimming in it. He pushed himself out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He clicked on the overhead light and removed his shirt, taking one of the silk towels and drying his chest and back. He looked over at the tub. The cool marble stones with compression jets layered out of them created the perfect appearance of tranquility. Guessing he would likely have to leave early tomorrow he decided to treat himself to the wonderful feeling of the tub. He leaned forward and turned on the water, but nothing came out of the faucet. He turned the knobs a few times attempting to find the problem. A slow gurgling came from the depths of the tub, bubbling and spitting its violent sound through the channel of the faucet. Jonah stepped back thinking it might be clogged. The sound stopped leaving the faucet still dry. He leaned over to try again as a burst of gray-white liquid spewed from the faucet, splashing onto his hand. Its rotten, foul smell nearly caused him to vomit. He quickly pulled his hand back and rushed to the sink, running water over his hand until the liquid was completely washed away.
He turned back to the tub, looking down into its basin. The grayish white liquid was gone as water had started to flow, draining the liquid back down in mini swirling whirlpool. He shut the water off. The foul-smelling liquid had now made the bath seem dirtier than the sweat from his back. He thought about the liquid. The gloomy color with the almost heavy, almost curdled nature looked like the waterfall that killed him in his dream. He had not seen that liquid before they arrived and was certain he hadn’t seen it afterward. He sat on the corner of the tub looking at the drain. His sleep was off, and he knew it. It felt like something was in his head, rooting around and injecting his thoughts with things he had not seen. His eyes wandered to the bathroom window, looking out into the night. As the lighting crashed and the storm swirled, he was amazed that he wished to see the black dog. He couldn’t guess why. Perhaps it felt more real to him. The imps and the masons, their world felt as if he was in biology class again, staring at the amoebas in the microscope and learning what they were. He sighed and dabbed some more water on his neck from the towel and made his way back to the main bedroom.
He wondered if Samson had more information on the black dog. Remembering the book Samson had left him in Boston, he decided he would check and see. He made his way over to his clothes that he had laid at the base of the bed. He quickly remembered he had given the jacket to Ash and she likely had it in her room. He sighed, deciding he would wait until the morning to retrieve it. He sat back on the bed, looking again at the bathroom. The slow drip of the water clinking against the metal made him feel uneasy. He still didn’t full trust Sterling, especially now there was something wrong with the pipes. He laid his head on the pillow and tried to forget and just told himself that all of the questions would be answered at the Lodge tomorrow. As he closed his eyes, he could still hear the slow, drip, drip, drip from the faucet. He sighed, trying to tune it out. As the last little bit of dripping seemed to let out, he felt sleep begin to return to him. As he started to feel the embrace of sleep shroud him a loud “Click” echoed from the door, causing him to sit upright up in bed.
The knob clicked again and again before ceasing. His eyes flashed to the wall of weapons. Without another thought he leapt from the bed and rushed to cabinet. Pulling open the door, he snagged a flintlock and clicked back the hammer, pointing it toward the door. He stood there frozen for several minutes, holding the pistol weakly as it shook in his hand. He approached the door and slowly unlocked it, peering outside into the hall, keeping his head down. The slow sound of dragging feet filled the mansion as Sterling’s men wandered throughout the lower part of the house. The sounds coming from their feet made it seem like they couldn’t move their knees, dragging their heels across the carpet.
Looking down the hall he thought he saw someone outside of Ash’s door. Fearing for her safety he left his room, slowly walking down hall. He did his best not to cause noise on the hardwood floor, but it was inevitable. As he made it to her door he tapped slightly on the frame.
“Ashlyn,” he called out in weak voice.
There was no answer, so he turned the knob, slowly entering. He peered around her room. It was more roundish with lower ceilings but twice as many cabinets. The bed and bookcase were similar but instead of a wall of weapons as was in his room the cabinet near to her window was filled with armor. Medieval helmets, leather gorgets, and several shield and breast plates with different adorned coats of arms.
“Ashlyn,” he whispered again.
Looking to the bed there were clear signs that it had been slept in, but she was not there. He heard the slow sound of water dripping from her bathroom. He crept towards the door, tightly gripping the flintlock in his hand. He pushed the door open. Ash had her head draped over the tub letting the water drain over her. She was dressed in a white bathrobe and didn’t seem to be moving. As Jonah stepped into the bathroom, she lifted her head out of the water, grabbing at towel and drying her hair. She turned and faced him, letting out a loud scream before clapping her hands over her mouth.
“What the hell are you doing in here!” She barked.
“I thought…I…”
“Get out!”
Jonah held up his hands in defense.
“Someone just tried to get into my room. I thought…”
“You thought if someone else is doing it, why not hop on board. What if I had been naked!”
Jonah realized his error and back out of the bathroom.
“Very sorry Ashlyn.”
She shut the door muttering under her breath. “Damn Abelien brothers.”
Jonah decided it would be best if he left and made his way for the door when he spotted his coat tossed haphazardly on a suede armchair. He made his way over to the coat and felt for the book. It was gone. He checked the pockets again and looked under the chair, but the book was nowhere to be found. Anger and fear filled his body and he rushed to the door. Pulling it open slightly, he stepped back and thought about where the book could have gone. Thinking back through the day he remembered putting it in the pocket of his jacket while on the roof of the library. He remembered that as he stuffed the book in the pocket, the lining of the jacket tore. Picking up the jacket he realized that the book was in the jacket he had given to Sterling on the train. He bit his lip, wondering how he was going to get it back or if Sterling even knew about it. As he was thinking about it, the same familiar click echoed on her door. He froze, staring at the knob as it jiggled. Ash stepped out of the bathroom, spotting Jonah again. She was about to yell at him again when the same click echoed throughout the room. The two of them looked at the door as the knob turned back and forth but never fully opened. The knob stopped moving and the room was filled with silence. Ash shook her head.
“What the hell was that?”
“Someone is turning the knobs in our rooms,” Jonah whispered.
She held up her hand and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, but grad school friend or not, lavish mansion or not. I am not going to stay in a place where not one, but two people barge in my room in the middle of the night.”
“Again, I am sorry about that. I called out, but you didn’t answer.”
“I had my head under the water. How was I supposed to hear you? You should have just left.”
“After the library I…couldn’t.”
She let a deep sigh.
“Cheap shot and you know it. Fine, but why are you still here?”
“I was looking for Samson’s book when I realized that it was in the jacket I gave Sterling.”
“Sterling has the book?” She said, trying to not growl as she said it.
“I am sure he knows. I will get it from him tomorrow,” Jonah said weakly.
“Please tell me you are not that naïve. You said it yourself, you don’t remember if you know this guy, he had a book with Samson’s church circled and now he takes your jacket with Samson’s book in it. We know Samson came up here and you two share a last name. This asshole is playing us.”
Jonah sighed reluctantly.
“It does seem that way, but I don’t want to accuse him without evidence.”
“You won’t have to, let’s just go wake him up. Get the book and leave and if he asks, we’ll just mention someone trying to get into our rooms.”
Ash turned back towards the window, reaching for her jeans that she left on the nightstand. As she grabbed her jeans her eyes gazed out the window, and she froze, fixated on what she saw. Jonah followed her gaze and they both looked out. Unlike his, her window had a clear view of the dock that stretched out into the lake. Her view also had a clearer sight of the boat house. A small yellow light bobbed from the house, swaying back and forth over the dock like a giant firefly. The light was bright enough to see the base of the dock but not the shape of the person holding it. As it made its way to the middle of the dock it froze, hanging just above the wood. In the shimmering glow was a large bag, bound and tied, moving back and forth like someone was trying to get out. The person holding the light set a jacket on top of the bag. The tattered worn sides were clearly Jonah’s. The light rose further off the dock, losing sight of both the jacket and the bag. Like a match the light went out, vanishing as if it was never there.
“What is that?” Jonah stuttered.
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