House of Whispers

  Contents

  Part One: House of Whispers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part Two: House of Death

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  R. L. Stine wishes to thank Wendy Haley for her contributions and efforts on this manuscript.

  PART ONE

  House of Whispers

  Chapter

  1

  October 1863

  What will it be like living with Angelica Fear? Amy wondered nervously. She stared out the window as the carriage rolled past the stately homes and moss-covered trees of New Orleans. Bringing her closer and closer to the Fear family.

  Amy Pierce had heard stories about Angelica. Whispered rumors that she possessed a dark and terrible power.

  But Amy did not want to believe the gossip. Her father and Angelica were cousins. He always defended Angelica. He insisted that the ugly rumors had been started by people who were jealous of Angelica’s beauty, wealth, and sophistication.

  “Excuse me, miss,” the driver said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “It’s none of my business, but are you going to the Fears’?”

  He sounds nervous, Amy thought. Has he heard the stories about the Fears?

  “My father was badly hurt in the war,” Amy explained. Her voice trembled a little. “My mother has gone to Virginia to take care of him. I am to stay with the Fears until she comes home.”

  He looked at her again, a worried expression on his face. “Wasn’t there anywhere else you could go?” he asked. “Some relative somewhere?”

  “Mrs. Fear is my second cousin,” Amy replied. “She is in need of a companion while her husband is away doing his war work.”

  “Sorry, miss,” the driver said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by my questions. My missus always says I talk too much.” He slapped the reins against the horses’ backs, urging them to go faster.

  Amy’s stomach tightened. She wished she could have remained at home. She could take care of herself.

  But young ladies were not allowed to stay alone. No matter how capable they were. It was not proper, her mother said.

  And Cousin Angelica does need help, Amy reminded herself. She had two girls and three little boys to look after with no husband to help.

  Secretly, Amy felt relieved Angelica’s husband would not be at home. She had heard stories about Simon Fear, too. Some people thought he killed all Angelica’s suitors so Angelica would be forced to marry him.

  And most people agreed that Simon’s “war work” involved selling supplies to whichever side would pay the highest price. Would he truly aid the North? Amy wondered. Even the Union soldiers who held New Orleans—his home—captive?

  Amy leaned forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder. “What can you tell me about the Fears? I met them only once, when I was a little girl. But I do not remember much.”

  “I cannot tell you anything about the Fears,” he muttered. “Nothing at all.”

  “Then why are you afraid of them?” Amy asked.

  “I’m not,” the man shot back. “I told you. I do not know anything about them.”

  He is lying, Amy thought. I know it. But why?

  With a sharp snap of the reins, the driver turned the carriage onto a long, curving drive. Amy drew in her breath as she caught sight of the Fears’ mansion. It was the biggest house she had ever seen. And the most elegant. White marble columns stood in rows on both sides of the front door.

  The carriage jerked to a halt in front of the broad porch steps. The driver helped her down, and dropped Amy’s bag on the ground beside her. Then he jumped back into the carriage and hurriedly drove away.

  A cold shiver ran up Amy’s spine. She felt so alone. Did the Fears really want her to stay with them? Or did they feel it was their duty?

  A beautiful dark-haired woman came out onto the porch. Angelica Fear. She was even more beautiful than Amy remembered. Her green eyes glittered as she held out her hands to Amy.

  “Cousin,” Angelica called. “I am so glad to see you.”

  Angelica’s tone was cordial, and she did appear happy to see Amy. Amy felt herself relax.

  Angelica started down the steps—and Amy could only stare. She had never seen anyone so poised and elegant. Oh, how Amy wished she could be like that!

  Angelica took Amy’s hands. “Welcome to New Orleans, my dear.”

  Without thinking, Amy pulled back. Angelica’s touch was like ice.

  I hope she did not notice my reaction, Amy thought. “I am sorry it is so late, Cousin Angelica,” Amy said quickly. “We were delayed by a storm.”

  “You must be exhausted!” Angelica exclaimed. “Let’s get you settled in.”

  Amy nodded and reached for her carpetbag. “Do not bother with that,” Angelica instructed. “The servants will take care of it.”

  Amy flushed. She was not used to having servants. She and her parents lived simply. Amy hoped she did not appear like a silly little country mouse to her sophisticated cousin.

  Angelica led Amy inside. A chandelier filled the front room with light. The floor was of pale marble, and a massive gilt-framed mirror reflected the wide staircase that curved up to the second floor.

  “This is beautiful,” Amy breathed. She knew she was staring, but she could not help herself.

  “Why, thank you.” Angelica’s lips curved into a smile. “Amy, I want you to meet my daughters—Hannah and Julia.” She gestured two young girls toward them.

  “Welcome, Cousin Amy,” Hannah said brightly. She hurried up and kissed Amy on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” Amy answered.

  Hannah will be as beautiful as her mother someday, Amy thought. The girl was in her early teens, tall and slender. Her blond hair fell in waves down her back, and her brown eyes sparkled.

  “Julia,” Angelica said softly. The other girl jumped—then scurried over to Amy and kissed her. “Hello, Cousin Amy,” she murmured, her eyes on the floor.

  Julia reminded Amy of herself in her early teens. Shy and awkward. How hard it must be for Julia to have such a pretty sister, she thought.

  Julia had Angelica’s shiny black hair. But her face was plain, her jaw too wide and her nose too long.

  “All right, girls,” Angelica said. “You stayed up to greet your cousin. Now off to bed.”

  Angelica turned to Amy. “The boys have been in bed for hours. You will meet them tomorrow.”

  Julia obediently headed toward the stairs, but Hannah turned to her mother with an exaggerated pout.

  “Please, can’t I stay up a little while longer?” she begged. “I want to visit with Cousin Amy.”

  “Darling, you will have plenty of time to talk to Amy tomorrow,” Angelica answered. “Julia is older, and she is going upstairs now.”

  “Oh, Julia!” Hannah exclaimed, tossing her golden hair. “She would rather be alone in her room anyway.”

  Angelica laughed and kissed Hannah on the top of her head. “Hannah is like me,” she explained to Amy. “She loves excitement.”

  Amy glanced up at Julia. The girl stood on the stairs, watching her mother and Hannah. No expression lit the girl’s gray eyes. But Amy knew Julia felt hurt.

  Even to a newcomer, it was
obvious Angelica doted on pretty, outgoing Hannah. And ignored plain, quiet Julia.

  “Off to bed now,” Angelica finally said. She stroked Hannah’s cheek. “Good night.”

  Hannah whirled and ran up the stairs past Julia. Julia slowly followed her sister. No one said good night to her.

  Angelica turned and smiled at Amy. “You have grown up so!” she commented. Her green eyes flicked up and down, from Amy’s shoes to the top of her head.

  I must look like such a country bumpkin, Amy thought. My shoes are too heavy, and my dress is too plain.

  “How old are you now?” Angelica asked.

  “Seventeen,” Amy replied.

  “Such a wonderful age,” Angelica said. “I see my Aunt Thelma in you. You have her chestnut hair. And you have inherited my grandmama’s hazel eyes. You are lovely.”

  Amy’s cheeks burned again.

  Angelica laughed. “I am embarrassing you.” She reached out and ran one cold fingertip along Amy’s cheek. “I think you are going to fit into our family beautifully,” she said. “I feel as though you are one of us already.”

  Her words were kind, but Amy remembered how upset the carriage driver sounded when she tried to coax him into talking about the Fears.

  “We had better let you get some rest.” Angelica clapped her hands sharply, startling Amy.

  A maid came in the door at the far end of the room. When she stepped into the light, Amy saw she had a pleasant, friendly face.

  “Nellie, take Amy upstairs,” Angelica said. “Help her unpack, and get her anything she needs.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nellie replied.

  “Good night, Amy,” Angelica murmured. She leaned down and kissed Amy on the cheek. Her lips felt cool.

  “This way, Miss Amy,” Nellie called. Amy followed her up the stairs and down a long hall. “This is your room,” Nellie said, opening a door on the left.

  Amy walked in, and a shiver raced through her.

  “Someone just walked over your grave,” Nellie said cheerfully.

  “What?” Amy exclaimed. “What did you say?”

  “Oh!” Nellie gasped. “I’m sorry. It is just something my mother used to say when someone shivered like that. It does not mean anything. Please do not tell Mrs. Fear I frightened you,” Nellie pleaded.

  “Of course not,” Amy said. “I’ve never heard that expression, is all.” She smiled apologetically.

  “You must be tired after travelling so far, miss. I will unpack your things so you can freshen up.” Nellie picked up Amy’s carpetbag. It looked even more faded and battered in these rich surroundings. So would her clothes.

  “I would rather unpack my own things, thank you,” Amy told her.

  “Oh, no, miss,” the maid protested, opening the worn bag. “That would not be right. Mrs. Fear told me to unpack for you, and that is exactly what I must do.”

  Nellie pulled a blue gown from the carpetbag and shook it out. It was Amy’s best dress, and her favorite. Here in this elegant room, however, it appeared shabby.

  “This is a pretty color for you,” the maid said. “Blue is Miss Hannah’s favorite color. It used to be Miss Julia’s too, but she says she changed hers to red.”

  Amy let Nellie chatter away. She did not have to say anything, just smile and nod at the right times.

  Since Nellie likes to talk so much, Amy thought, maybe she will answer some questions about the Fears.

  “There,” Nellie said, stepping away from the closet. Amy’s three dresses and two nightgowns had not taken long to unpack. “Good night, miss.”

  “Don’t go,” Amy protested. “Stay and talk for a few more minutes. Have you been with the Fears long?”

  Nellie’s friendly smile faded away. “Nearly five years, miss,” she answered quietly.

  “Do you like them?”

  Nellie shot her a glance, then dropped her gaze to the floor. But not before Amy saw fear in her eyes.

  “Of course I like them,” Nellie mumbled. “Please, miss, I have to go. The family eats breakfast at seven-thirty, but we can fix you something anytime.”

  Nellie hurried out of the room. Amy could hear her footsteps swiftly retreating down the hall. Nellie acted exactly the way the carriage driver did, Amy realized. What did they know about the Fears? What evil things had they heard?

  With a sigh, Amy plopped down on the chair in front of the dressing table and started brushing her hair. Do not let your imagination run wild, she instructed herself. Angelica was nice to her. Everyone made Amy feel welcome.

  But Amy could not get rid of the cold, chilling feeling that something was wrong in this house. “I wish . . .” she began.

  The words died in her throat as a pale, round face appeared in the mirror.

  It hung motionless above a cloud of white.

  Dark holes for eyes. A slash for a mouth.

  Amy’s throat went dry. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  Slowly, the apparition reached for her.

  Chapter

  2

  Amy jumped to her feet. The chair crashed to the floor.

  “Cousin Amy?”

  Amy spun around. Julia stood before her in a long, white nightgown. The face, which had been so terrifying a moment ago, became Julia’s face. Amy let her breath out in a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, hello, Julia,” she said. Her voice shook.

  “Did I scare you?” the girl asked.

  “Well, yes,” Amy admitted. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Mother always says I am too quiet for my own good,” Julia said.

  Amy’s heart went out to her. Amy had been a quiet, awkward child herself. Yet she had grown out of it. Still, she would never forget how awful she felt back then.

  “I was always quiet, too,” Amy told her. “All I wanted to do was read books.”

  Julia nodded. “I like to make pottery.”

  “Pottery?”

  “Vases and bowls, things like that. Father had a kiln built out in the garden for me.”

  Quiet, plain girls had to have something for themselves, Amy thought. Something special. “Do you have any of your work in the house? Will you show me?” she asked.

  Julia stared at her for a moment. She appeared surprised Amy had asked. Then she shrugged. “If you would like. But be quiet or we will wake Hannah.”

  She turned toward the door. Amy lifted her skirts and tiptoed after her. The hallway was lit by the lamplight spilling out from the open doorway behind them. Julia’s nightgown seemed to hold the light, making her look almost as if she were floating.

  Julia’s room was two doors down on the opposite side of the hall. “What a nice room,” Amy said when she stepped inside.

  “I suppose.” Julia sighed. “I wanted blue. But Hannah insisted on blue for her room, so Mother picked this rose color for me.” Julia lit a lamp and carried it to the large table at the far end of the room.

  Amy followed. The table was crowded with pottery vases, bowls, and cups. Many were beautiful. But some were obviously experiments that had not worked.

  She picked up one of the odd-looking vases. Its ugly gray-green glaze felt strangely grainy, like a lizard’s skin. Amy quickly set it aside. She hated the way it felt in her hands.

  Amy studied another piece. A small bowl with a shiny glaze. “How pretty,” she said. “You are very talented.”

  “Everybody likes the pretty ones better,” Julia said.

  Amy glanced at Julia and felt a rush of sympathy. Julia’s face was expressionless. But Amy knew what the younger girl was thinking. “That may be true with vases and bowls,” Amy said. “But not with people.”

  Julia shrugged. But Amy saw loneliness in the girl’s eyes, and a need that Amy understood too well.

  Julia needs a friend, she thought. Everyone needs a friend.

  She set the bowl down and unhooked her silver chain bracelet. “This is a lucky bracelet,” she told Julia. It isn’t really a lie, Amy thought. The bracelet could be lucky. “But luck is suppos
ed to be passed on from one friend to another, or it goes away. I would like you to have it now.”

  Julia stared down at the bracelet. “Are you sure?”

  “I am sure. Would you like me to put it on you?”

  Wordlessly, Julia held out her arm. Amy fastened the bracelet around her wrist, then smiled at the younger girl. “There. It looks perfect on you, don’t you think?”

  Julia did not say anything, but her gray eyes sparkled. She ran her fingertips along the links of the chain. “Thank you, Amy.”

  “You’re welcome. I—” A yawn caught Amy in mid-sentence. She just couldn’t help it. “Oops. I think the day’s journey just caught up with me. I had better get some sleep. Good night, Julia.”

  Amy turned away. But Julia caught her by the arm and pulled her back around.

  What is wrong? She is so pale, Amy thought.

  “Amy . . .” The girl hesitated for a moment. “I. . . Do not open your bedroom door at night when everyone is asleep.” Amy heard Julia’s voice crack. “No matter what you hear.”

  “What? Why not?” Amy exclaimed.

  “It is not safe.” Julia wrapped her arms around herself. “It is not safe.”

  A chill ran up Amy’s spine. “I do not understand,” Amy answered, trying to sound calm.

  “When I was ten, I had a nightmare. I could not go back to sleep. I felt too frightened. So I decided to go look for Mother. When I stepped out into the hall, I knew something was wrong. I should have run back into my room then. But I did not.”

  Julia wrapped her arms more tightly around her body. Amy could see Julia’s fingers digging into her flesh.

  “I saw the shadows in the hall move,” Julia said. “They whirled into a black, smoky column filled with faces. Faces without eyes, faces without skin. Faces covered with oozing sores. Faces burned until they were black.”

  “You must have still been dreaming,” Amy protested. “Such things could never exist. Never.”

  “It. . . they moved toward me,” Julia whispered. “I could hear the faces moaning and crying. All the faces looked at me, even the ones with no eyes. Then hands burst through the column. Twisted hands, with claws. I could not run. I could not do anything but watch as they came closer and closer.”