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

the balls of her feet, and the momentum from the lunge tumbled her forward onto her hands and knees, breaking the stealth of her escape.

Heavy boot steps thundered above, and Maggie scrambled to her feet. The long skirt of her uniform tangled her legs as she attempted to get up and lunge toward the door.

Maggie turned the knob hard, throwing her weight behind the push as she continued her sprint toward freedom. The footsteps that chased her triggered panic, and an involuntary scream crawled out of her like the evil trying to escape this place—the same evil that was trying to kill her.

Intricate glass carvings of the family’s crest lined the windows framed in the large double doors, breaking up the moonlight. Unlike the rest of the windows in the house, those had been meticulously cleaned, and it had been Maggie who’d done it.

Maggie grabbed the polished brass handle, but the door remained locked.

“No.” The defeated whisper left Maggie’s lips, which were distorted into a frown. “No!” She pounded against the glass and then turned away from the door, searching for another way out.

The house itself was a maze. Maggie had lived here for the past month, and she still hadn’t seen all of the rooms. She tried to drown out the heavy footfalls growing louder and closer, thinking of another way out. She gasped and popped her eyes open. The drawing room, she remembered. It was in the east wing, and she’d seen that one of the windows had a broken latch.

Just before Maggie reached the drawing room, she glanced down the hall to find the darkened figure of her attacker. Her heart skipped a beat, and she burst into the room. With her eyes already locked on the window to freedom, she tripped over the edge of the rug in the room’s center. She caught her balance on the coffee table and wove around the vintage desks and chairs.

Maggie thumped against the glass, fumbling to keep her fingers still beneath the window’s sill. She pushed upward, but the window moved only an inch before the worn tracks stopped the motion.

“C’mon!” She pounded the window frame’s sides, trying to loosen the track’s hold, then managed to open it halfway, where she was greeted with a blast of frigid night air.

Maggie thrust her head outside, and a pair of hands grabbed at her waist.

“No!” Maggie screamed and latched onto the window’s frame, her grip weakening as the attacker pulled. One finger was plucked loose, then another, as her bloodcurdling cries echoed through the night air. “HELP ME!”

The muscles along her arms burned with fatigue as she clung to the last bit of hope that someone would hear her in the town below.

One last forceful tug sucked Maggie back into the room, where she landed hard on the floor, and the window was quickly slammed shut.

Maggie scooted backward along the dusty floor, crying on her retreat.

“I’m sorry. I know I broke the rules. I shouldn’t have been snooping around.” Her tears mixed with the sweat and dust on her cheeks, offering the illusion that she was crying black tar. “I won’t tell anyone what I found. I promise.”

The man turned, silhouetted in moonlight, his facial features indistinguishable. He stepped toward her, tracking dirt from his boots, the laces untied and dangling precariously to the sides.

Maggie shuddered when she backed into a chair, and she turned her face away, shutting her eyes as the man neared. The tickle of his hot breath against her neck transformed her skin into gooseflesh. He sniffed and then wrapped his rough, leather-gloved hands around her neck.

“Please,” Maggie said, choking as he squeezed.

The pressure eased, but then he quickly lifted Maggie off the floor and slung her over his shoulder.

“NO!” Maggie fought, impotently smacking her fists against his back, as she was carried swiftly to the fifth floor. “STOP!”

Blood rushed to her head, triggering a dull throb through her skull, her view limited to the floor and lower portions of the walls they passed.

The higher they ascended, the dirtier their surroundings became. Thick layers of dust covered the floors, walls, and furniture. Cobwebs filled the space between the paintings on the wall and the ceiling. Wide cracks separated the floorboards, the blackened empty spaces between them traveling like fault lines.

The attacker opened a door at the end of the fifth-floor hall and heaved Maggie through it. She thumped against the floor, triggering a plume of dust. She coughed and lifted her head in time to watch the door slam shut, followed by the heavy turn of a lock.

Maggie crawled to the door. “No.” Still on her knees, she wiggled the knob and then beat her fists against the door. “Let me out!”

But with her pleas ignored, Maggie spun around, sobbing, and pressed her back to the door.

The room was colder than the rest of the house, and Maggie rubbed her arms, her bare palms sliding quickly over the long sleeves of her uniform. She let the tears run their course then regained control of her breathing and pushed herself off the floor. Shivering, she walked to the room’s only window and pressed her nose against the dirty glass.

Five stories separated Maggie from freedom, and the ground below was nothing but concrete. She looked to the left and right, hoping to see a ledge that she might be able to climb onto, but found nothing.

Maggie turned away from the window, examining the rest of the room. There was a four-post king-sized bed, neatly made, though the sheets had been permanently greyed with dust and neglect.

Time had frozen the room upon the previous occupant’ death, their belongings trapped and forgotten. She was standing in a mausoleum.

Distracted by her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the groaning of the closet hinges, and when the doorknob knocked against the adjacent wall, Maggie jumped.

The open door exposed the sleeves of a few ratty jackets near the front, but the back of the closet was concealed in darkness.

Maggie stared into the void, and the