Chapter 8
Tristan and Danny are poring over the Crawshanks manuscript, and Chan and Dusty are cooing over the boxes of vintage clothes. Shaking my head in amusement, I look over to the other side of the room, expecting to meet Harrison’s prickly gaze, only to find he’s not there.
I cross the room and look out into the corridor. To the left leads back down the stairs to the main floor and to the right is a series of closed doors. I can’t see the end of the corridor as it’s deep in shadow, but Harrison is nowhere to be seen.
I step back into the room and turn to the others. “Where’s Prickles?”
“What?” Tristan looks up from the manuscript.
Danny looks to the doorway and frowns. “He was just there a minute ago, he can’t have got far.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find him.” Dusty rolls her eyes and disappears.
For a moment, the room is absolutely silent as we all stand around waiting. It’s true Harrison couldn’t have strayed far from the room, but I don’t think he would’ve wandered off on his own, not in this place, not with the creepy shit that’s gone on recently.
Fuck.
I’ve got a really bad feeling. Just as I’m about to turn and head out of the room to find him myself, Dusty reappears looking…worried.
“What?” I ask, an unpleasant feeling curdling in my stomach. “What’s wrong? Where is he?”
“I can’t find him.” She bites her lip anxiously. “Anywhere,” she adds, and that unpleasant feeling becomes a stab of panic.
“What do you mean, anywhere?” I demand.
“I mean he isn’t anywhere in the entire building or surrounding area. I can’t find him.”
“That’s impossible.” Tristan gathers up all the files Viv left for him, tucking them safely against his chest. “He has to be somewhere.”
“We should split up and start searching,” Danny, ever the pragmatist, states.
“I’m sure he’s just off somewhere looking for the loo,” Chan offers.
“I’d be able to find him if that was the case, but I’m telling you, I can’t see him, and I can lock onto any one of you with a thought. Where Harrison should be is just a blank space.”
“Don’t let him hear you calling him a blank space,” Tristan mutters.
“We should definitely split up then.” Chan picks up an oversized handbag and slings it over his shoulder.
“After all, we could cover more ground that way.” He grabs a couple of scarves and wraps them around his neck.
“Danny and Tris should start downstairs.” He slides a pair of Audrey Hepburn-style glasses on and flips his hair over his shoulder. “Sam and I will check this floor.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Tristan says as he and Danny head for the door. “Chan, put them back,” he calls over his shoulder without looking.
Chan huffs and unwinds the scarves from his neck but not before slipping the sunglasses into his pocket.
“I’ll keep looking,” Dusty says, and in the blink of an eye, she’s gone again.
I follow Danny and Tristan out the door, but as they head down the steps, I turn to the right and start opening doors. There’s nothing but room after empty room, draughty, dark, and filled with boxes and junk. It really is a hoarder’s paradise.
“Anything?” Chan appears halfway down the hallway behind me, wearing a bright orange fake fur coat and a purple velvet Mary Quant Baker Boy cap.
“No, nothing,” I reply as the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle.
Slowly, I turn towards the end of the corridor.
The deep shadows seem to part like a curtain, revealing another set of stairs, and in front of them is a fox sitting calmly, its coat a deep burnished red that reminds me of Harrison’s hair.
Its face, the tips of its ears, and its long, bushy tail are black.
“What the fuck is that?” Chan gasps.
“It’s a fox,” I murmur as I stare at it.
“No, it’s not. I’ve seen plenty of urban foxes across London.
They’re cute and red and scream really loud when they’re boinking each other.
That thing looks like it’s about to lead us into the Underworld to suck out our souls…
and what the hell is it doing in here? Don’t they, like, have rabies or something? ”
“I don’t think it’s a regular fox,” I reply quietly as it holds my gaze.
After a moment, it stands and turns towards the stairs, then glances back over its shoulder to us.
“I think it wants us to follow it.”
“Hang on a second there, Mr Tumnus,” Chan says incredulously. “You want us to follow a magical, possibly soul-sucking fox into the creepiest part of this house of horrors? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
“Are you mad?”
“We need to find Harrison,” I tell him, my feet already moving towards the fox.
“Urgh, fine, but if we die, my boyfriend is going to be pissed.”
“He’s literally Death. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Any other time I’d be amused, but I can’t focus on anything other than getting to Harrison right now, and if following a weird-looking fox inside a haunted house is what it takes, then so be it.
It’s freezing in this part of the house. I know it’s still winter and the heating hasn’t been on in the building since Viv died, but this is beyond cold. My fingers are turning numb as I follow the fox up the narrow, winding staircase, Chan a few paces behind me.
“Bloody hell, are we climbing fucking Everest?” Chan complains.
“What are you complaining about? You’re the one wearing genuine muppet skin.”
“It is very cosy,” he concedes as he strokes the furry coat with a hum of pleasure. “It’s just the rest of me that’s cold.”
We reach the top of the stairs and step onto plain wooden floorboards rather than threadbare carpet. There’s a damp, musty smell to the air.
It’s also pitch black.
“I really don’t think Prickles is going to be up here.” I can hear the distaste in Chan’s voice even if I can’t see his face.
“There must be a light switch around here somewhere.” I pull my phone from my pocket and hit the flashlight function, then skim the bright light over the nearby walls. Finally, I see an old-fashioned light switch and flip it on.
For a second, nothing happens, then the lights above us flicker on.
“Fuck me,” Chan mutters under his breath. “I don’t know whether to run screaming or call the Winchesters.”
The light is no more than a row of bare bulbs spaced at intervals down a narrow corridor, illuminating a handful of closed doors on either side of the hall.
I can’t see past the end because, like the floor below, the corridor seems completely cast in shadow.
I’m sure this shouldn’t be possible, not with a light source directly in front of it.
“What do you think this floor is?” Chan’s voice is oddly subdued for his vibrant personality. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little worried we might run into Miss Haversham up here.”
“I think these were the old servants’ rooms. This floor probably hasn’t been used for decades,” I mutter as my eyes land on the fox. It’s sitting halfway down the corridor, and I swear it wasn’t there before.
With a slow, graceful movement, the fox rises and turns, heading towards the deep shadows.
I edge closer, and the strangest thing happens.
The shadows move and shift like they are somehow alive.
As the fox gets closer, they sink into the far wall and disappear, revealing a familiar-looking person with his back to us.
“Harrison!” I yell, and rush forward, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.
The fox winds around his legs, disappearing when I reach him, but my attention is all on Harrison rather than where the strange creature may have gone.
I grasp Harrison’s arm and can feel how cold he is through his sweater. He seems to be in some kind of daze, just standing and staring at the blank wall in front of him.
“Prickles.” I give him a shake and grasp his jaw, turning his face towards me.
His skin is unnaturally pale, making his freckles stand out in stark relief, and his lips are blue. I watch as he blinks slowly. His eyes, which had been unfocused, track to me, and I can see him gradually coming back to us.
“Sam?” he croaks and starts to shiver violently. “Why is it so cold?”
“Here, Prickles, take this.” Chan slides the fake fur coat off and wraps Harrison up in it tightly.
“I-I look l-like an o-orange Tic Tac,” Harrison mutters through chattering teeth. “It t-totally c-clashes with m-my hair.”
Chan laughs. “Honey, you’re the one trying to do his best impression of a penguin. What the hell are you doing up here?”
“I d-don’t even know where h-here is.” He frowns and I wrap my arms around him tightly, vigorously rubbing his arms and back to try and get some warmth into his body. “Where a-am I?”
“Oh, good. You found him.”
The three of us jolt in shock as Dusty suddenly materialises in the middle of our little rugby huddle.
“Bloody hell!” Chan exclaims, patting his chest like he has palpitations. “Are you trying to give me premature wrinkles?”
Dusty blinks slowly and stares at Chan’s hat. “Is that a Mary Quant?”
“Dusty?” I pull her focus back.
“Oh, right.” Her eyes land on Harrison, who’s wrapped up like a Terry’s Chocolate Orange. Although his lips are no longer an alarming shade of blue, he’s still very pale, and his body is wracked with deep shudders. “Prickles, you don’t look so good.”
“Can’t say I’m f-feeling great,” he whispers.
“I don’t know what happened.” Dusty frowns. “I couldn’t sense you anywhere, then all of a sudden you just blipped back onto my radar.” Harrison opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Dusty adds, “I’m going to get Tristan.” Then pops out again.
“I don’t know what she thinks he can do,” Harrison mutters. “Unless he’s going to spoon me until I warm up.”
“If it’s a spooning you want, Prickles.” I grin to lighten the mood, although my heart is still pounding fast. I’m worried, deeply worried.
“I don’t need spooning. I need to know where I am.” He frowns and looks around the sparse corridor. “One minute I was watching Tristan open a cupboard and then I was here. Everything in between is a bit…foggy.”