annotated floorplan - simple floorplan

Lennox tucked his good camera securely into the wagon where it wouldn’t shift, added the collapsed tripod, and checked that he had everything. Not that he’d really had time to take much out.

Forget trying to salvage this. He’d just report that his Hallowe’en investigation had been sabotaged by unknown individuals and there was nothing he could do about it. It left a bad taste, but maybe this was what he deserved for not making sure he had exclusive secure access to a site via the proper owner. He could use the time better in trying to calm down and getting some sleep than engaging any further with the nonsense here.

He headed to the front door.

Standing in front of it was a woman with dark hair, in an impractical and old-fashioned dress of dark grey and equally-dark teal.

He was fairly sure that weird-looking suit of armour hadn’t been just inside the door before; parts of it gleamed like stainless steel, the rest a mixture of gold and copper and silver, and it looked like it had been made for a woman. It wasn’t the strangest thing about the house, so he ignored it.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said gently. “You cannot leave the house until sunrise. That is not a matter of choice, it is simply how things work. If you step off the property, you will be...”

“Get out of my way.”

“I would rather not allow you to harm yourself.”

Lennox did something he normally would never have done: he reached out to physically push her out of the way.

His arm stopped before it reached her, his wrist trapped in a metal hand he hadn’t even seen move.

“Let go of me!”

“Please stop trying to assault my beloved wife,” a male voice said from behind him. It didn’t sound angry; if anything, it was very calm. “It won’t go well for you. Lennox, is it? I think Lennox and I are going to go have a drink and a conversation in my office.”

Lennox twisted in place, though the suit of armour didn’t move a millimetre, he was sure. “We are? No, I don’t think we are.”

“Your other alternatives aren’t wonderful. You aren’t going to get free until she believes you are not a threat to my wife.”

“And no matter how angry you become,” the woman said, “we will not permit you to destroy yourself by leaving the property before sunrise. That would be irresponsible.”

“I can make my own decisions!” Lennox snapped. “This is kidnapping!”

“You don’t understand the situation,” the man said. “Therefore you are not in a position to make an informed decision. As for kidnapping... I could point out that you are in fact trespassing in our house. I’m Richard Mallory. This is my wife Ségolène.”

He couldn’t possibly be the one who built this house. A grandson, maybe? He wasn’t young, there were lines on his face and grey in his hair; his clothes were less archaic but still old-fashioned, black slacks and shoes, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a vest with a green and coppery design on it.

The woman inclined her head in a nod. “It would be best for you to go with Richard and have that conversation.”

“And a drink,” Richard added. “I have some excellent Irish whiskey, or others if that’s not to your taste. I think that might help settle your nerves a little, hm?”

Agreeing was probably the only thing that was going to get his arm free, and once he was free, he could consider other options.

Besides, alcohol actually had some appeal right now.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

Without any command from either of the Mallorys, the metal hand released his wrist.

But the suit of armour positioned itself directly in front of the door so it couldn’t be opened without moving the armour first, crossed its arms, and stilled. It moved very smoothly, but there were odd little gaps that would make it very unlikely there could be a human inside. Then again, look at Wanda. It looked heavy, though.

“I’ll ask Tarragon to prepare at least sandwiches or something,” the woman said. “You should not be drinking on an empty stomach.” She paused to give the man a kiss on one cheek. “Thank you for seeing reason, Lennox.” She swept out of the entrance hall without another word.

Lennox rubbed his wrist. “How do you know my name, anyway?”

“Both Wanda and Ophelia are very concerned about you. Whatever you might believe of our intentions, we do not want any guest to come to harm. The door is immediately to your right. No harm will come to your wagon.” The man who called himself Richard gestured to a door that was mostly closed, and pushed it open himself.

Warily, Lennox followed him.

The room was old-fashioned, of course, but not too bad. All the music-based decor was unexpected; the stained-glass window at the front was the one he’d tried to peek into, he realized, one that must allow some daylight while keeping the room private. That meant the small door he’d tried wasn’t all that far on the other side. Could he reach that? He considered it, then reluctantly decided against it, since he’d have to abandon a lot of expensive gear. Unless he could get outside and call the police? He might technically be trespassing, but that wasn’t much against assault, kidnapping, and theft.

Richard opened a cabinet of glossy dark wood. “Have a seat. What do you prefer? I’m afraid I don’t have much at hand for complex drinks, and beer is over in the kitchen, but I do have ice. Unless Hallowe’en disrupted the ice bucket again... no, Ségolène fixed it, we do indeed have ice.”

There were a few options for where to sit: a chair behind the desk, two others in front of it, a couch that was probably uncomfortable with wooden legs and a lot of wood on the back and arms. Not that the chairs looked much better. He chose one of the chairs in front of the desk. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected.

Lennox generally preferred beer, but something strong sounded good. “Whatever. Anything is fine.”

He watched while Richard took two glasses from a shelf, dropped a large ice cube in each, and poured amber liquid into each from a glass decanter. He saw no difference between them.

Richard offered both glasses. “Your choice, so you know I’m not playing at anything.” Once Lennox chose one, Richard took an absent sip of the one remaining while he retrieved the decanter and set it on the desk in easy reach.

He didn’t sit across the desk, though; he chose the couch, leaning into the corner at an angle that allowed him to face Lennox easily. He looked quite casual and comfortable, with one knee up on the couch and his glass in his hand.

“I’m sorry you have to endure an unpleasant night,” Richard said. “I’m not actually apologizing, you understand, I just sympathize with how difficult it can be for some people to accept. Unfortunately, we can’t post warnings of any sort, since no one would see them until it’s too late. Although, to be fair, I’m not certain we would. Some of our guests actually enjoy the experience and it’s rewarding all around. Every individual is unique in personality and history, and so is every reaction.”

“Great, so let me leave.” Lennox took a cautious sip of the liquid. It had a mellow smoothness to it, a little smoky, and just a faint suggestion of vanilla and maybe something fruity. It wasn’t going to become a favourite, but it was okay right now. He took a bigger drink. It didn’t burn at all on the way down, but it felt like it coated everything as it passed, and as it reached his stomach, he felt gently warm.

“We would if we could. This house exists between two... two realms, two planes of existence. Two dimensions? I’m not sure what the best phrasing is for your time and education. There is the world as you know it, operating by one set of rules, which are for the most part consistent. There is another one where the rules are different and many things that are impossible in the one you’re used to are commonplace. This house, thanks to my brilliant wife and her familiar and with my wholehearted consent, exists in both and to some degree in neither. On Hallowe’en, for reasons that are complex and not optional, our front door overlaps with that of the echo of our house within your reality. Passing through it brings someone here. But it only works one way. Trying to leave... it doesn’t lead back to your reality. Or to anything healthy or comfortable for you.”

“So what does it lead to?” The woman in the lab coat had said something similar. It still didn’t mean he believed it.

“You would be unlikely to ever make it home. Leave it at that. We have no interest in holding you past sunrise. The opposite, in fact. At sunrise, you have my word, you will be back in the house you expected, the dead one. You will have your gear, although I’m afraid nothing will have recorded. Also you will have no hangover or impairment, so help yourself if you want more. For all practical purposes, tonight will never have happened.”

“There’s no way I’m forgetting this.” The contents of his glass were gone. Lennox leaned forward to add another splash, hoping to supplement that warm feeling. It was trying to make him feel more relaxed, he was sure of it. His thoughts were far too agitated for that to work.

Richard shrugged. “Believe that if you wish, but if you plan to tell the entire world, would you have others go through a night you found unbearable, all because you told them about it? Driven to extremes by excessive guests, my family might become less friendly to them. Better for everyone if the contact is minimized. For the moment, the best option is for you to simply stay in one room—this one, if you like. The library is nearby if you want something to read, and we can make sure you aren’t disturbed. Food will be appearing here any moment now. You can avoid any further individuals or events that will be hard to accept or impossible to explain, and wait out the night. It has happened before.”

“Sounds nice—if I believed any of this. For all I know, the lot of you have a meth lab or something somewhere in the house and you’re messing with anyone who comes here so it doesn’t get found. I have investigated a lot of sites and I have never found anything that could even be an open question. Everything that people claim is supernatural ends up having a perfectly ordinary explanation. I would love to find something that’s actually supernatural, but it’s all wishful thinking and pareidolia and bad logic. There isn’t anything except what’s real and concrete.”

Richard listened quietly, then sighed. “I doubt you’re even thirty yet. That is a very... definitive statement. I know this can be frightening and it can be difficult to be rational when frightened. I take it, then, that you’re declining to spend the rest of the night avoiding the chaos.”

“I came to this house to investigate. If I can’t leave, although right now I’d rather do that, then I’m fucking well going to investigate it.” Maybe if he made enough of a nuisance of himself, they’d throw him out early.

“If you insist. But I need you to understand something. You’ve already tried to assault Ségolène. I don’t believe you intended to hurt her, but nonetheless, it was physical. I am going to be telling my household to protect themselves as necessary. They will not attack you or even make any attempt at harassing you. It is more likely they will do their best to avoid you, possibly by locking doors normally left open. But if you are aggressive towards them, they will have permission to defend themselves and each other, even if that breaks our usual rule about no harm coming to guests. Frankly, their safety and wellbeing matter more to me than yours does, even though I would prefer that you stayed safe and had a minimally stressful night.”

“Well, at least that sounds honest.”

“Everything I have said has been honest.”

“It might just be delusional instead of a deliberate lie. But there’s no way it’s the truth. Another world? With the house in between? And you’ve got an invisible chick and one with snakes for hair?”

“Among others, all unique and every one a joy and a blessing. My wife and I treasure every one of them and we will protect them.”

Nails tapped on the door—one of three, the one they’d entered through.

“Come in, Maggie,” Richard said.

The maid who came in was as absurd as the rest, someone’s catgirl fetish. She carried a tray with a platter of quartered sandwiches on it.

“Tarragon asked me to apologize that the selection is rather limited on short notice,” she said. “But it is his own bread, and there are three kinds at least, cold roast beef and chicken salad and cheese.”

“That should be fine, Maggie, thank you. Could you please spread the word for me that everyone is to stay safe? Lock doors or otherwise avoid if possible, of course, but defend if necessary? Thalia in particular is to lock her doors.”

The maid’s forehead furrowed, but she nodded. “Yessir. Anything else you need?”

“No, that’s plenty, thank you.”

“Tactful,” Lennox said drily as she left.

“I told you I was going to do exactly that,” Richard said. “Your response to me did not even include any form of assurance that you had no intention of aggression. Why should I pretend otherwise? No one is angry at you. We do understand that it’s a great deal to absorb and that can be difficult and confusing and unsettling. Yet so far, you have shown no inclination to bend in the least from antagonism in response to attempts at kindness and scepticism in the face of genuinely supernatural events for which you have no explanation, exactly the thing you just said you would like to find. Sadly, this means that we have to take steps on our side.”

“Was that a threat?”

“Stop being dramatic. It was a statement. The steps in question are the ones you heard me tell Maggie. Explore if you wish. We won’t stop you unless you become an active danger.” Richard got up from the couch and set his empty glass on the cabinet, then glanced through the platter of sandwiches and chose one. “Help yourself to the sandwiches. Our cook is excellent. Maybe boosting your blood sugar will help your mood.” He took a bite, and selected another one to take with him as he left the room.