CHAPTER FORTY

THE ANSWERED PRAYER

Hugh carried Rachel up through the house, and then back through the French doors to the patio. He kept her wrapped in her robe; his arms blistered with burns, but were blessedly numb with pain. He knew once the shock wore off he would be clenching his teeth in agony, remembering the sledgehammer slamming into his right arm. But there were worse things than physical pain. He took her through the back gate, leaning her up against the car. Where would they go?

What would they run to? But in his mind, just one thought, those words, help Rachel. It was all he wanted to do. He unlocked her door and opening it, maneuvered her around and in. She held onto him, still feverish, still fighting to stay conscious. Then he went around to his side of the car and got in. He stuck the key into the ignition and turned it hard.

Nothing. The car would not start.

Rachel clutched his arm. "Hugh, look-" She pointed up to the second-story window. But there was nothing there. "I thought I saw something, I thought I saw that thing." Hugh kissed her tear-streaked face. “It's gone, we're safe."

"Let's get out of here, please," she murmured.

"Won't start." Hugh turned the key once, twice, cursing.

"I know I saw it," she said, "look." Hugh glanced up to where she pointed, the French doors. For just a second he thought he saw a flash of movement, but it was red and yellow, and he realized the fire had spread to the upper story. creature with blue eyes, its mouth opened in a scream while the rat shook it between its jaws.

But the man had seen this through smoke and shadows and when he told his friends, they laughed at his imagination. Almost a year later, in the suburbs of northern Virginia, in a house that had been built in the 1970s and had no history of malevolence other than the rumor that the last owner had perhaps drunk just one beer too many at the local barbecues, Rachel would lie awake at night thinking she heard Mrs. Deerfield singing lullabies to the thing. And she would scream, because it still frightened her and she knew it would for a long time to come.

"Scout?" Hugh reached over and hugged her close to him.

"Sorry."

“It's all right. Was it bad?"

"Same old same old'."

"Let's Pretend, Scout, that we banished them, banished them forever. We sent them back to their cages, we threw the key away. We vanquished the foe."

"I'm still afraid."

"It comes and goes."

"I love you."

"Well, that's news to me."

"What if we went back? Hugh?"

"Never."

"Good. I never want to, either. I know it's just a house. But there's still the chance… it still there."

"No, it's gone. And no one will ever live in that place again."

"I just wish my dreams weren't so bad."

"Well, I can tell you a bedtime story, Scout. You and the lumpkin." She felt his hand patting her stomach which had grown slightly in the past month. She knew that her baby would be healthy, that what was growing inside her was untouched by the abomination in Draper House. It just felt right. If she was sensitive at all to things, if she had any sixth sense about what was right and what was wrong, she knew her baby was right.

"So let's hear it." She put her hand over his as he rubbed her stomach gently.

And his stories all began the same, which is why she liked them, and sometimes they made her cry because his stories were so much sweeter than the way the world could ever be again. He would say, "Let's Pretend," and his voice would be soft and his story would be hopeful. Then she would drift off into a peaceful sleep of sweet dreams for at least that night.

From Diaries of an Innocent Age by Verena Standish: One can never put such an event completely behind oneself. I carry the horror and the sadness within me even as I put pen to paper. But life takes over and years pass, and memories become less vivid. Their power to disturb loses some of its hold.

Draper House exists still at the border of Winthrop Park in Washington, D.C. It remains as cold and hard as the stone from which it is made. It is my fervent prayer that this cursed house of evil shall stand cold and hard and empty until the day of judgement when it shall be cast into the flames…

The End

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