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

dance along the wall, which gave life to the lifeless. The pictures, the tables and chairs, even the dead flowers in their vases with grey, dirty water came alive.

But it was only parlor tricks. The shadows were only the zombie projections of the dead things that surrounded Iris. She clutched the walls and the chairs and the tables on her slow and painful trek down the halls. The shadows moved better than she did. And just when she felt like she was about to give up, just when she thought the end was near, she saw Kegan’s door.

It was shut, and most likely locked. The light from the fire in the room glowed brightly through the door cracks. Iris shuddered at the thought of what that witch was doing behind those doors with her grandson. But she couldn’t let her win. No matter the cost.

Iris clutched her fists tight, squeezing until the swollen joints ached with a pain that felt like it could burst at any moment. With what strength remained to her, Iris marched forward, forgoing the crutches of furniture on either side of the hall on her approach.

The closer she moved toward the door, the more powerful her anger became. And despite the symphony of pain wreaking havoc throughout her body, she gritted her teeth and pushed through it. She squeezed the object in the cloth tighter the closer she moved toward the door. Her heart raced and sweat broke out on her forehead.

Iris stretched out her hand, reaching for the door, expecting to find it locked, but it opened with a quick turn of the wrist, and she used the momentum to thrust herself inside, the heat in the room blazing compared to the hallway.

Iris blinked away sweat that dripped from her eyelashes, and her skin felt as if she had plunged her entire body into the flames of the fireplace. It was like stepping into an arid desert, the heat so strong that it sucked the moisture from the air, which moved and wiggled like a mirage.

It took Iris a minute to get her bearings, but she eventually spotted the witch and Kegan in bed. She was naked, sitting upright and smiling at Iris. Even though the temperatures inside the room were sweltering, she didn’t even look like she was breaking a sweat.

Thankfully, Kegan was covered with a blanket below the waist, but he still wore that vacant expression. He was still under the witch’s control. And Iris had to be the one to break it.

“I’m surprised you wanted to see this,” the witch said, still in bed next to Kegan and smiling. “Have you decided to expend the rest of your energy to watch me defile what’s left of your family?” She cackled and placed her hand on Kegan’s chest.

Iris wiped the sweat still streaming off her face. She wobbled on both legs, the heat penetrating her skin and attacking her bones, muscles, and organs. But she fought the exhaustion and the pain, still holding that covered object that Sarah had given her. It was the only thing left in her possession to draw strength from, and she clung to it for dear life.

“You will leave this house, witch,” Iris said, her voice forceful and angry, but unsteady with its volatility.

But she only laughed, rolling over Kegan on the bed and placing her bare feet on the floor. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her breasts bounced suggestively and matched the lustful nature of her swinging hips.

“You do not command me, hag,” the witch said. “And when my master arrives, he will show you the true meaning of torture. The more you try and resist here, the harder it’s going to be for you when he finally arrives.”

Iris retreated, unraveling the cloth, but her fingers ached.

“What strength do you have to cast me out of this house?” the witch asked, her tone growing louder and bolder. “Your family is lost, your time is done, and your last remaining heir will provide the blood I need to open the portal!”

The joints along Iris’s fingers wanted to explode as she unraveled the cloth from the object, and she slammed up against the wall near the door on her retreat, nowhere else to run.

“You have failed!” The witch lifted her arms. “Fire and blood will reign on this earth, and you are the woman who made it happen!”

The last layer of cloth fell to the floor, and Iris gripped the wooden cross in her hand, shoving it near the witch’s face, a cold look of terror on her face.

“I cast you out of this house!” Strength returned to Iris’s voice and flooded through her body as she held up the small wooden cross.

“NO!” The witch quickly retreated. She screamed and wailed in pain, swatting at the air with her hands and arms as if something was attacking her.

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I cast you back into the hell from which you came!”

Heat and wind and fire swirled in the room, all gathering around the witch as she screamed and howled in the same hastened violence as the rest of the room.

It took all of Iris’s strength and concentration to keep the cross up and not collapse into a pile of ash. The wooden cross burned in her hand as the witch continued to thrash and wail. She inched forward, moving herself and the cross closer toward the witch, which only worsened the witch’s anger.

Iris glanced over to the bed and saw Kegan stir. He twitched like he was having a seizure, and she saw conflict on his face, like he was fighting something off. Finally, he woke, popping up from the bed and gasping for air like he’d been holding his breath.

The pair locked eyes for the briefest moment, and while Kegan was confused and frightened, Iris couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. He was alive. And if she wanted him to stay that