B1.S3. The Study
“EMF readings are practically normal.” Margo speaks into her camera as a contraption on her head illuminates the unmoving needle on some device she carries. “Which is already weird. People were violently murdered in this very room, there should be something coming in from the afterlife.”
The study is a windowless room. Wall lamps jut out from between bookshelves that line the walls. A dozen people could have lounged within, reading any of the hundreds of books filling the shelves. Now it’s coated in just as much dust as the rest of the house, but is the only room that shows any kind of disturbance. Broken shelves spill books across the floor, chairs lie in corners in various states of recognizable, and even the solid wood desk is overturned.
I lean against the arm of a broken sofa on the east side of the room, bored. Margo wanders out to the hallway, still babbling into her camera, leaving Dima’s electric torch as the sole source of light. His lips move slightly as he reads book titles from those along the southern wall. He ducks under one of the wall lamps to keep reading the next section.
Iron’s poison radiates from nails, hinges, and fixtures, enough that I don’t dare touch even the books. In search of something to do, I begin shuffling through the dust covering the floor. Pieces of tile come loose as I walk over them, joining shards of a mirror among the detritus. I follow one of the larger cracks toward the northern wall, kicking aside a candle and a rusty knife along the path. The crack disappears a few steps from the doorway.
Beyond it is a house covered in cobwebs and neglect. Ours are the only footprints digging a line through it.
“There’s nothing here,” I say to Clint. He stands in the hallway, near where the study door lies embedded in the wall, and has been watching Margo’s investigation with interest.
“Then where are the three missing construction workers?” he asks.
“It’s an island. Have you checked the water?”
“Perhaps it was a bear,” Dima says. “They can be smart and violent.”
“I’m fairly certain you’re the only bear on the island,” Clint says.
By Clint’s expression, I can guess it was some manner of joke, but I can’t fathom what’s funny about likening a human to a bear. Dima’s torch barely illuminates the red of his face as he stutters a response. He reaches out a hand to lean against the lamp, and it shifts under his weight. A grinding noise fills the room and he snatches his hand away as if burned.
“The room is smaller than it should be,” Margo says as she reenters the room. “And what was that noise?”
“I touched the lamp and--” he’s cut off as the mechanisms he triggered break free of whatever jammed them. The shelves spin with surprising speed, the rotation swallowing him and tossing books across the room. The rotating door slams shut with him on the other side.
We all rush over, but Margo’s first to arrive. The door got stuck again, leaving it only mostly shut. Light shines through the few inches it’s left ajar. She squishes her face into the crevice to call to her cousin. “Dima? You okay? What’s back there?”
“I am fine. It is a hallway. On one end there is...” his voice gets quieter then echoes back: “a wall.”
“Wonderful,” Clint says. “Steer clear of the bookshelf door while we get it working again, alright?”
Margo's already tugging on the wall lamp, but only triggers an angry vibration from beneath our feet.
“There is a doorway at the other end,” Dima shouts back. “It it leads to stairs down. There is a terrible smell coming from below.”
“Maybe don't explore the weird hidden rooms alone?” I call back. Of course a human who has no cause to believe monsters are real would have little fear such exploration. As he marches toward danger, Clint and Margo debate how to fix whatever mechanism is stuck. And I pace, useless.
“I found bear,” Dima's voice breaks the silence, followed by a roar. “It breathes fire!”
I jump over and drive my heel into the corner of the secret door. The force breaks the gears free and slams the door shut. Margo's brain manages to function through panic and she pulls on the lamp to open the door again. It rotates us into the hidden hall at an infuriatingly reasonable pace, only to stop again perpendicular to the walls. It traps us in a cramped corner with nothing but walls around us.
I press myself against the far wall to see the hallway beyond. Dima takes slow, backwards steps toward us, and a massive creature of red skin and black fur advances at the same pace. Fanged teeth hang over a mouth emanating a deep growl. It has the forward-facing eyes of a predator, and they’re locked on Dima. It pulls one of its clawed hands back.
“Down!” I yell to Dima.
He ducks, and so do the three of us on the other side. The monster's swing catches the shelves, shattering the wood and sending books flying. I shield my face from the splinters and Clint does what he can to pull Margo back. Before the dust even settles, she's slipped out of his grip to pull Dima into the study and away from the beast filling the hall.
I move to stand between it and the others, making myself the most likely target. Now things finally get interesting.
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