The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

just divine.” She ran her finger over the lips of his closed mouth and then leaned closer, a sense of wonder filling her that she hadn’t felt since… well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt like that before. She was a little girl again, her eyes wide and excited at the prospects and possibilities of the future. She would finally have everything she wanted. She would finally be able to fill that hollow pit that had gnawed at her stomach since she’d made her pact with the devil all of those centuries ago. Her role would be actualized, her mission complete. And all it was going to take was one last sacrifice. “Blood is the beginning. Blood is the end.” She repeated the words like it was born from an ancient text written over millennia before her conception. Even before the dark lord whispered those words to her on the day of their pact, she could remember reciting them as a child. She whispered the words in secret to herself and herself alone. She knew that those words made her special, and if anyone else discovered that secret, then she wouldn’t be special anymore. And she was special. The dark lord had shown her that. Just as Kegan Bell was special. And when he was cut open and his blood spilled upon the altar, all would be good. All would be well.

The seventh failed attempt at walking had left Iris crippled in the chair next to her vanity. She found it fitting that this particular chair was where she had chosen to rest. Over the years, she had spent countless hours applying rouge and foundation and eye shadow and lipstick and whatever other instruments of youth that she could buy in an attempt to conceal what nature had done to her body.

Time had marched forward, deaf to Iris’s pleas to stop, or at the very least slow down. And like every other mortal, time cast her aside and stretched over the horizon and out of reach, leaving her to die along the side of the road with the other bodies decaying and picked over by the buzzards for carrion.

But the funny thing about time was that the longer it stretched, the faster it went by, and the less she cared about reaching the end. In fact, she longed for it to be over, and never had those wishes been more desired than that moment.

The sands of time had slipped through her fingers, and she knew that she only had a few grains left. And Iris was determined to make them count.

With a renewed grit, Iris gripped the back of the chair with her left hand and planted her right palm on the desk, then used the leverage to heave herself into a standing position. She eyed the door, the distance impossibly long, but she made her first step.

The more momentum she gained, the easier the trek became, and while her bones ached, and her muscles trembled, and the resolve in the back of her mind weakened to the point of failure, she didn’t quit. Iris pushed past the pain and when her hand wrapped around the brass knob of the door handle, she exhaled in relief, and in that relief, she collapsed to the floor.

The loosely-held together bones cracked against one another, and a sharp, hot flash of pain spread up her spine. But despite the collapse and the pain and the exhaustion that was flooding through her body, it was the farthest that she’d gone.

Iris took a few minutes to gather her breath and find her strength, though it could have been closer to an hour, knowing how quickly time passed for Iris.

She grabbed hold of the door knob, her body trembling as she half pulled and pushed her way off the floor and finally managed to straighten out, still leaning against the door for support, though it didn’t offer much.

Thoughts of Kegan and her shame provided enough grit to stand on her own two feet and open the door and step into the hallway. She used the tables and chairs that lined the walls to help her toward the stairs, propelling her closer to the stairwell.

Despite the clouds of fog brought on by her age and exhaustion, Iris had a plan. She clutched the hidden object wrapped in the cloth that Sarah had given her. The witch was only allowed inside the mansion because she believed she had been invited. Which was true.

But what Iris knew was the witch was counting on was the fact that she wouldn’t expect Iris to have the strength to boot her out. And if Iris was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength either. But there was only one way she was going to find out.

The stairs presented their own challenge, every step of her descent cracking the bones and joints of her knee. Her body was just as noisy and defiant as the old wooden stairs, complaining with every step down. She clutched the railing like a lifeline and took the descent slow, unable to trust her rusty coordination.

What made the decay of her body even worse was the memory of what it used to be able to accomplish. Even with the decades between her mind and her abilities, she could still remember them as if they were yesterday. So with every harsh crack of her knee, or pain in her back, or swelling of her fingers, Iris used the memory of her youth to propel her forward. But the only bad thing about hanging onto the past was the sacrifice of the future.

Iris clutched one of the banister posts and hunched over, nearly collapsing as she struggled to catch her breath on the third-floor entrance. Once she had gathered her strength, Iris crept toward the door, naturally slow, but as quiet as she could, and entered the third floor.

All the candles along the hall had been lit, flickering and causing the shadows to