The Grey Girl, The Van Tassel Murders
Not Again

The instant Emily’s arms encircled Chloe’s waist, fire ignited every nerve in Chloe’s body. The impact of the solid steel fender, the scraping, and breaking of skin and bone as she was hurled across the dirt and gravel road, she felt every bump of the ride to Sterben house. Then came the fall into the well, the cold of the night, and the bright flash of an explosion. It all happened in a split second, leaving the echo of her short scream to reverberate in her ears. Silence closed in around her.

Chloe kept her eyes shut tightly in terror. Have the last two years been a dream? The familiar pain began to subside. Could I still be lost in the bottom of that frigid well? She focused on her hand. The fingers moved to feel the air. She was dry. Not warm, but not freezing as she had been that night. The ground she lay on was smooth and even. It was then she realized she was curled into a ball on a hard surface. The smell of a dusty rug filled her nose.

Even with the knowledge that she was probably in the Van Tassel Manor—but definitely not back at the Sterben house—she still refused to open her eyes. From the silence around her and the way the air felt, she knew she was in a room, and that room was definitely dark. She could not see a familiar, orange glow through her eyelids. She continued to lie still, hugging herself, feeling the wholeness of her body. Even though her eyes were shut tightly, the tears still seeped out. She could feel them pooling against her nose and dripping off her cheeks. She could feel. That realization caused her to calm her breathing a little. Maybe it hadn’t happened. Maybe she had not been ripped from her body. Again.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, yet steadfastly refused to open her eyes, as if not seeing it would keep the truth at bay. She brushed away the tears, leaving her hands wet. She was ok; she had to be. If she was ok though, where was Alex? He was always there when she had a nightmare. When Edgar came back, angry and hate filled, her door would open and Alex would block the soft light of the hall. He would speak softly to her, hug her, let her tell him everything or nothing, and then he would hold her hand until she fell back to sleep. Sometimes, he would be there next to her when she woke the next morning. So where was he? Her hand was empty; there were no caring arms enveloping her. She listened. Straining her ears, she heard a distant pounding. Frantic fists on wood. Her heart ached. She knew it was Alex. Panic rose. Maybe he was trapped somewhere. Had she locked her door? No, it would be louder. She started to stand, her eyes flying open. She needed to help Alex.

The sound that escaped her body filled the entire house. It was a wail of loss and sorrow, pain and fear. Falling back to her knees, Chloe wept uncontrollably. She could see through her hands again. She was screaming at them, the mere sight sending her into hysterics of terror. Anger erupted, pushing out the fear. She was pounding on the wooden floor. Cries of uncontrolled rage tore at her throat as floorboards split under her fists. She was on her feet, unsteady for a moment. Suddenly, her feet left the ground as she flew at the door. “Get out here, you vile, horrid …” Words failed her as she screamed. The only words discernable were, “Little Brat!” and “Kill you.”

Henry materialized through the door, causing Chloe to jump back for an instant. Surprise bulged his eyes as she flew at him in her rage. Her small fists betrayed their power as they slammed hard into his chin, knocking him off balance. “What have you done to me?” she screamed, pounding against the arms he threw up in defense. Memories of the self-defense video she had watched took over.

Henry tried to back away, but she was on him. Flailing punches rained down on him. His jaw was knocked loose, an arm was shattered, a knee exploded when she kicked out. He tried to calm her, but without his jaw, he could only grunt and moan at her.

Even without lungs to breath or a heart to pump, Chloe soon began to tire. She was crying again. She still landed hit after hit on Henry, but they no longer drove him back.

He crouched on the floor, taking the blows until finally holding her arms in support as she sank to the ground before him. After a moment his bones repaired themselves and he was able to stand. Slowly, he helped her to a settee where she returned to her curled position, crying freely. “They can’t get to you in here,” Henry wheezed, adjusting his jaw while sinking into a high-backed chair across from her. He looked much less gaunt, his clothed less tattered, and his face began to fill in the longer he stayed here. “I am so sorry.” He held his head in his hands. Gradually, his melancholy disappeared to be replaced with anger. “I told you not to come here! I told you.”

He was on his feet but stumbled back, knocking the backs of his knees against the chair and falling back into a seated position when Chloe sprang to her feet and advanced on him. “Stop yelling at me this instant!” Her anger far surpassed anything he had shown. “That is the kind of behavior I will not put up with.” She glowered down at him. “You don’t come into my home and tell me what I can and cannot do.” He flinched as she poked him repeatedly in the chest. “If you were so concerned, you should have better explained to me”—her voice turned to a whisper—“what the danger was.” She turned away from the shocked spirit, muttering to herself, “I was angry too. I told people to get out without a reason. Only when Alex asked me why did I tell anyone.” She spun around and Henry flinched. “That’s no excuse. I was trapped. You came to my house.”

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“You called me an abomination!”

“Well, I didn’t know what else to call someone who had been dead but who was suddenly alive.” Henry was now on his feet. His eyes softened as he watched Chloe inspect her hands.

“A zombie, I guess.” She laughed sadly.

“Like those voodoo heathens make?”

“No, like the flesh-eating kind,” she replied absentmindedly.

“You’re a cannibal?” he asked, repulsed.

“No.” Chloe shook her head. “Sorry, it was a movie. Right, you don’t know what that is. You’ve been dead longer than I have.” She balled her fists, “But I was alive again.” She turned back to him, grabbing his arms. “What happened to me? How can we fix this? I need to find Alex.” She let go, heading to the door.

It was his turn to grab her arm. “I don’t know what they did to you.” He looked toward the door as well. “But your friends have been expelled from the house.” A smile rose on his face. “It’s ok. They’re with a friend. He’ll help them. I hope.”

Chloe was excited. “Well, let’s go. I mean, you can leave this house, so let’s go to Alex.”

He looked sad. “You can’t leave. I am able to go because of my curse. I don’t think they will let you go. They need you.”

“No, no, no,” Chloe cried. Panic grew in her. “No, I can’t be trapped again. NO! NO!” She flew to the window but she couldn’t open it. She passed through the door, down a hall, back into the main hall. Henry calling out to her, close behind. She slammed into the front door and fell, spread-eagled on the floor. She was up, moving faster and faster, trying to find a way out. She screamed again in panic as Henry pulled her back to the safety of his den.

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