WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

CHAPTER ONE THE FIRST KNOCK The letter arrived thirteen years after Mara Vale's mother disappeared. It was waiting on the kitchen table when Mara returned from school. She stopped in the doorway. The envelope was cream-colored and old-fashioned. Her name was written across the front in black ink. MARA VALE No address. No stamp. No sender. Mara glanced toward the kitchen window. It was open. The curtains moved gently in the afternoon breeze. "Grandma?" No answer. She dropped her schoolbag beside the door and approached the table. Something about the handwriting made her uneasy. She had seen it before. A long time ago. She picked up the envelope. Her fingers immediately went cold. Mara turned it over. There was no seal. Inside was a single folded sheet of paper. She opened it. Seven words were written across the page. COME HOME BEFORE THEY KNOW YOU REMEMBER. Mara stared. Her heart began pounding. She knew the handwriting. She knew it because she had spent half her life trying to forget it. It belonged to her mother. Elena Vale. A woman who had supposedly died thirteen years ago. "Mara?" Her grandmother's voice came from behind her. Mara turned. The old woman stood in the doorway carrying two grocery bags. The moment she saw the letter, she dropped them. Oranges rolled across the floor. Her face became pale. "Where did you get that?" "It was on the table." "Who brought it?" "I don't know." Her grandmother hurried forward and grabbed the letter. She read it. Her hands began trembling. "Burn it." Mara frowned. "What?" "Burn it now." "Why?" "Because some things should remain buried." Mara stared at her. "It's Mom's handwriting." Her grandmother froze. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then the old woman whispered: "I know." Mara's stomach tightened. "You knew?" "I recognized it." "How?" Her grandmother looked away. "Because I saw those words once before." "What words?" "Come home." Mara stepped closer. "When?" Her grandmother's eyes filled with fear. "The night your mother disappeared." Mara couldn't speak. She had always been told that Elena died in an accident. A closed coffin. A funeral she barely remembered. A childhood that seemed to end overnight. "Mom disappeared?" Her grandmother looked at her. "That's not what I said." "It is." "Mara, leave this alone." "You lied to me." "I protected you." "From what?" Her grandmother looked toward the kitchen window. "Blackwood." The name sent a strange chill through Mara. Blackwood Manor. The old family house beyond the forest. The place they had abandoned thirteen years ago. The place Mara had not seen since she was eight. "What about Blackwood?" "You're not going there." "Why?" "Because your mother never came back." Mara stared at her. "Then maybe I should find out why." Her grandmother shook her head. "No." That night, Mara couldn't sleep. The letter was hidden inside the drawer beside her bed. Her grandmother had demanded that she burn it. Mara had tried. The candle flame went out before touching the paper. She hadn't told her grandmother. Now, at 1:17 a.m., she lay awake staring at the ceiling. The house was silent. Then— Knock. Mara sat upright. She listened. Nothing. Then— Knock. Her heart began racing. She remembered something her mother used to tell her when she was little. "If you ever hear three knocks, don't answer." Mara had thought it was a game. Then came the third knock. Knock. She held her breath. Footsteps moved slowly along the hallway outside her room. "Mara." Her mother's voice. Mara covered her mouth. It couldn't be. Her mother was dead. Or at least that's what she had always believed. "Mara." The voice came again. She didn't answer. The footsteps stopped outside her door. The handle moved. Once. Twice. Mara backed away. Then the voice whispered: "Open the door." Mara squeezed her eyes shut. "No." Silence. A moment later, the footsteps disappeared. She waited several minutes before opening her bedroom door. The hallway was empty. Her grandmother's bedroom door stood open. Mara hurried inside. The bed was empty. The window was wide open. Her grandmother was standing outside in the garden. Barefoot. Still wearing her nightdress. "Grandma!" The old woman turned. "Did you hear it?" "Hear what?" "The knocking." Mara nodded. Her grandmother's face changed. "You heard it?" "Yes." The old woman looked toward the forest. "The house knows you're here." "What does that mean?" Her grandmother grabbed her wrist. "We're leaving." "Why?" "Because you came back." "I've never been to Blackwood." Her grandmother stared at her. "Not yet." The next morning, Mara made her decision. She was going to Blackwood. She needed answers. By noon, she was driving toward the forest. Rain began falling as the road narrowed. Then the trees appeared. And behind them stood the gates of Blackwood Manor. One gate hung open. Mara stopped the car. The house looked exactly as she remembered. Three stories. Dark windows. Cracked stone walls. A roof covered in moss. She stepped out. The front door was slightly open. Mara walked toward it. Fresh footprints crossed the porch. Bare feet. They led inside. Her heart pounded. She pushed the door open. The house smelled of dust and rain. Everything was exactly where she remembered. The staircase. The fireplace. The grandfather clock. Even the old portrait of her family. Mara approached it. She wiped away the dust. Her mother stood in the center. Mara stood beside her. Her grandmother stood behind them. But there was someone else. A young boy. Mara stared. She didn't remember him. She turned the photograph over. Written on the back were the words: MARA AND LUCA — SUMMER BEFORE THE FIRST DOOR. "Luca?" A sound came from upstairs. Mara looked up. A door slowly opened at the end of the hallway. Her mother's bedroom. She climbed the stairs. Each step creaked beneath her feet. When she reached the door, she stopped. A voice came from inside. "Mara." Her mother's voice. Mara's eyes filled with tears. "Mom?" The voice answered: "Don't come in." Mara stepped closer. "Why?" "He's listening." "Who?" Silence. Then— Knock. Mara stepped backward. Another knock. Knock. Then a third. Knock. The bedroom door opened. There was nobody inside. Mara looked around. Dust covered everything. Except the center of the floor. A photograph lay there. She picked it up. It showed her family again. But this time, the mysterious boy wasn't alone. Behind them stood a tall figure. Its face had been scratched away. Mara turned the photograph over. Three words had been written on the back. HE REMEMBERS YOU. Suddenly, the bedroom door slammed shut behind her. Mara spun around. She grabbed the handle. It wouldn't move. "Let me out!" Something whispered behind her. "Mara." She froze. The voice wasn't her mother's. It was a child's voice. She slowly turned. A boy stood at the end of the room. Six years old. Pale. Still. Mara recognized him from the photograph. "Luca?" The boy smiled sadly. "You left me." Mara shook her head. "I don't remember you." "You will." "Who are you?" The boy pointed toward the door. Then he whispered: "Don't let them knock twelve times." The bedroom lights suddenly flickered. The boy disappeared. The door opened. Mara ran downstairs. She didn't stop until she reached her car. As she started the engine, she looked back at Blackwood Manor. A woman stood behind the upstairs window. Mara knew that face. Her mother's face. Elena raised one hand. Then she pointed toward the forest. Mara looked. Nothing. When she looked back, the window was empty. Her phone suddenly rang. Unknown number. She answered. "Hello?" Silence. Then a child's voice whispered: "Mara?" "Who is this?" "Luca." Mara's blood ran cold. "Where are you?" The child whispered: "Behind you." Mara slowly looked into the rearview mirror. The back seat was empty. Then three knocks sounded against the car window. Knock. Mara stopped breathing. Knock. Her hand tightened around the steering wheel. Knock. She didn't turn around. Her mother's warning returned to her. If you hear three knocks, don't answer. But then another sound came from the back seat. A whisper. "Mara..." She looked at the mirror. A pale face appeared behind her. Her mother's face. But her eyes were completely black. Mara screamed and slammed the accelerator. The car sped away from Blackwood Manor. Behind her, the figure remained in the mirror. Watching. Waiting. And somewhere deep inside the abandoned house, something began counting. One. Two. Three. Because the first three knocks had already been answered. And there were only nine left.