Kellan was still fiddling with the light fixture. It came on suddenly. The old, dusty bulb bathed the door in a hazy, yellow glow. "The bulb was out of the socket. That's odd."
At least they could somewhat see now.
An odd banging sounded from somewhere around the house. Eric's instincts went on high alert. He dashed around the side of the building and looked down the alley. The illumination from the street didn't penetrate this far back. In fact, it was eerily dark. If anything, the neighbor's interior lights behind him blinded him just enough to make seeing anything almost impossible.
Still, he could swear he saw a shape moving in that alley in the distance.
He was just about to run after the asshole when he heard a scream from inside the rundown house that made his whole body freeze in terror.
Belle.
They had to get to her.
* * * *
Belle woke from her dream, certain that she was no longer alone in the house. Her hands shook. Her heart drummed in her chest. Pure fear threatened to choke her.
Move! Don't just lay here.
As quietly as she could, she kicked the covers away and swung her feet, moving slowly so the wooden floors wouldn't creak. Belle shivered with every step, but forced herself to keep moving. When had the room gotten so cold? She wrapped her arms around herself and she could practically see her breath, as though the air around her was freezing. She'd turned the ancient heater on a few hours ago. Had it stopped working?
In the short time she'd been in this house, Belle had quickly realized that she had plumbing, electrical, and flooring problems. Now she could add the HVAC unit to that long, expensive list. That was before she tackled updating the décor.
Something loud banged downstairs, startling her. She shrieked. Her hands shook in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Fear iced her veins. Someone was in the house.
Where the hell had she put her cell phone? Sir was suddenly right at her heels, yipping up at her. Did he think it was play time?
"Keep quiet," she hissed under her breath as she remembered she'd left her new cell phone on the charger downstairs since that seemed to be one of the few electrical sockets currently functioning. She'd decided to find the fuse box in the morning and see if she could trip the breakers and get some of the upstairs sockets operational. She'd been too tired to deal with it before going to bed.
The moment her head had hit the pillow, she'd fallen into a deep, thick slumber where she'd had horrible nightmares of dead women swinging from the rafters of her house. Different girls in different eras, but all hanged in the same room from the same beam. Creepy. She'd let Gates's warning get into her head. Even now, Belle tried to shake away the vestiges of the dreams. They had seemed so real to her.
The lawyer had said young women committed suicide in this house. Her dream had clearly shown a murder. Belle really hoped she hadn't gotten her grandmother's gift. She hoped even more fervently that she hadn't dreamed about her own violent end.
Was someone really in her house or was she just freaked out? Who would have broken in? Squatters? The place had been vacant so long maybe some of the homeless thought they could just move in. Despite what Mr. Gates had suggested, it couldn't really be ghosts.
She tiptoed through the bedroom and toward the stairs, trying to control her runaway breathing. Until she reached her phone, she didn't have a way to call 911. Right now, she didn't even have a weapon to fight off an intruder. What the hell was she going to do? What time was it? She wished she knew if there was any chance that there were still people on the street outside to hear her call for help.
Belle paused, trying to decide if she should risk going for her phone or just get out of the house. Then she realized that everything around her had gone quiet. She didn't hear footsteps, per se. She didn't see shadows or movement, but every creak and groan of the stairs brought fresh terror. Was someone here?
Maybe she really was just overreacting because the dreams had provoked her imagination. They'd started as soon as she closed her eyes. One vivid nightmare bled into the next in a terrible montage.
Helplessly, Belle had watched pretty young women being pulled through the house, screeching and pleading and fighting with every step. Each had been utterly helpless to stop a noose from winding around her neck before a dark figure hauled them high up the stairs. Finally, the assailant tightened the rope around the poor women's throats and shoved them over the banister, leaving them to dangle to their death.
As the last had been pushed, her neck broke. A jarring crack had jolted Belle awake.