WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FIRST DOOR

The handprint remained on the window long after Mara stopped breathing.

Five small fingers.

A narrow palm.

The mark was not on the outside of the glass.

It was on the inside.

Mara stared at it.

Her grandmother stared too.

Neither woman spoke.

The car's engine continued running, filling the silence with a low mechanical hum.

Finally, Mara whispered, "You said it doesn't live at Blackwood anymore."

Her grandmother didn't answer.

"Grandma."

The old woman kept her eyes on the road.

"Drive."

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."

"Mara, drive."

"You said the house copies people."

"I said enough."

"You said Luca opened the first door."

Her grandmother's hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"And now you're telling me whatever is doing this can follow us."

"Yes."

"Then where are we supposed to go?"

Her grandmother looked at her.

"Somewhere it can't hear us."

Mara frowned.

"Where?"

Her grandmother pointed toward the road ahead.

"The old chapel."

Mara remembered it.

St. Agnes Chapel stood on the edge of town, abandoned for decades.

It was where her family had gone whenever someone died.

She had not been there since she was a child.

"Why the chapel?"

"Because your grandfather knew things about Blackwood."

"I thought Grandpa died before Mom."

"He did."

"What did he know?"

Her grandmother hesitated.

"Everything."

The word settled heavily between them.

Mara looked at the handprint again.

It was slowly fading.

Not disappearing.

Changing.

The fingers seemed to stretch downward, leaving five thin trails across the glass.

Mara looked away.

"Grandma."

"What?"

"Who was the first person the house copied?"

Her grandmother didn't answer.

"Was it someone in our family?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Her grandmother's voice became barely audible.

"My sister."

Mara turned sharply.

"You had a sister?"

"I had two."

"Why have I never heard about them?"

"Because no one speaks their names anymore."

"Why?"

"Because names have power."

Mara frowned.

"That's ridiculous."

Her grandmother looked at her.

"You've seen enough to stop calling things ridiculous."

Mara fell silent.

The chapel appeared through the trees.

Its stone walls were covered in vines.

The bell tower leaned slightly to one side.

The wooden doors were locked.

Her grandmother reached beneath the driver's seat and pulled out an old iron key.

Mara stared.

"You had that ready?"

"I knew we'd need it."

They stepped out of the car.

The air smelled of wet earth.

Mara followed her grandmother toward the chapel.

The old woman inserted the key.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

Inside, darkness swallowed them.

Her grandmother reached for a lantern.

A flame appeared.

Mara looked around.

Dust covered the pews.

The altar stood beneath a large wooden cross.

Old candles surrounded it.

Some looked recently burned.

Mara frowned.

"Someone's been here."

Her grandmother closed the door.

"No."

"There are fresh candles."

"Don't touch them."

"Why?"

"Because they're not for the living."

Mara looked at her.

Her grandmother walked toward the altar.

Behind it was a wooden panel.

She pressed her palm against it.

Nothing happened.

Then she whispered a name.

"Evelyn."

The panel opened.

Mara stared.

A narrow staircase descended into darkness.

"What is that?"

"A place your grandfather built."

"Why?"

"To hide the truth."

Her grandmother lifted the lantern.

"Come."

Mara followed.

The staircase was narrow.

The walls were made of stone.

The farther they descended, the colder it became.

At the bottom was a small underground room.

Books filled the shelves.

Boxes covered the floor.

Old photographs hung from the walls.

Mara recognized several faces.

People from the family portraits at Blackwood.

Her grandmother placed the lantern on a table.

"Your grandfather spent twenty years studying the house."

Mara picked up a notebook.

"Why?"

"Because he believed Blackwood wasn't haunted."

Mara looked up.

"What did he believe?"

"He believed it was alive."

Mara laughed nervously.

"A house can't be alive."

Her grandmother opened an old book.

"Then explain this."

Inside were dozens of drawings.

A house.

A door.

People standing around it.

And something beneath the foundation.

It looked like roots.

Or veins.

Mara stared.

"What is that?"

"We don't know."

Her grandmother turned a page.

There was an old photograph.

A group of people standing outside Blackwood Manor.

Mara recognized the house.

But it looked different.

Newer.

The date was written below.

1894.

Her grandmother pointed to a woman standing in the center.

"Evelyn Vale."

Mara remembered the portrait upstairs.

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

"What happened to her?"

"She disappeared."

"When?"

"Three days after she opened the first door."

Mara stared.

"So that's why it's called the first door?"

"No."

Her grandmother reached for another photograph.

This one showed the inside of Blackwood.

A black wooden door stood at the end of a hallway.

The same door Mara had seen.

"Every generation has one," her grandmother said.

"One what?"

"Someone who hears the knocking."

Mara's throat tightened.

"And then?"

"They're drawn to the first door."

"What happens when they open it?"

Her grandmother looked at her.

"They bring something back."

Mara thought of Luca.

"That's what happened to him."

"Yes."

"Then why did Mom let him open it?"

"She didn't."

"Then how?"

Her grandmother looked away.

"Luca was never supposed to know the door existed."

"But he did."

"Someone told him."

"Who?"

Her grandmother's eyes met hers.

"Elena."

Mara shook her head.

"Why would Mom tell him?"

"She didn't."

Silence.

Mara suddenly understood.

"The copy."

Her grandmother nodded.

"The thing wearing her face."

Mara sat down.

"So Luca trusted it."

"Yes."

"And it convinced him to open the door."

"Yes."

"What came through?"

Her grandmother's face became pale.

"We never found out."

Mara stared.

"You mean you don't know what came through?"

"No."

"Then why are you afraid?"

"Because whatever came through didn't leave."

A sound echoed from above.

Three slow knocks.

Mara and her grandmother froze.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Her grandmother whispered:

"It's here."

Mara looked toward the staircase.

"How?"

"I told you."

"The chapel was supposed to be safe."

"It used to be."

Another knock.

This time from the underground door.

Mara stared at it.

The old wooden door had no lock.

It moved slightly.

Her grandmother grabbed Mara's hand.

"Don't speak."

The door stopped moving.

Silence returned.

Then a voice came from the other side.

"Mara."

Her grandmother's eyes widened.

Mara recognized the voice.

Luca.

"Please."

Mara stepped forward.

Her grandmother held her back.

"Don't."

"He sounds scared."

"That's not Luca."

"You don't know that."

"I know."

The voice came again.

"Mara, it's cold."

Mara closed her eyes.

She remembered the motel.

The voice.

The photograph.

The handprint.

She whispered:

"What do you want?"

Her grandmother gasped.

"You answered."

The door swung open.

Darkness filled the doorway.

Mara couldn't see beyond it.

Then a small hand appeared.

Luca stepped into the room.

He looked exactly as he had in the photograph.

Six years old.

Pale.

Barefoot.

He looked at Mara.

"You came back."

Mara's eyes filled with tears.

"Luca."

Her grandmother pulled her behind her.

"Don't go near him."

Luca looked at the old woman.

"Grandma."

The old woman began crying.

"You're not him."

Luca smiled.

"You know me."

"I know what you became."

The boy's smile disappeared.

"What did I become?"

Her grandmother raised the lantern.

The light fell across his face.

For one moment, Luca looked normal.

Then his shadow moved.

Mara stared.

The boy stood perfectly still.

But his shadow turned its head.

The shadow looked directly at Mara.

She stepped backward.

Luca whispered:

"Don't be afraid."

His shadow smiled.

Mara screamed.

Her grandmother threw the lantern toward the doorway.

The flame went out.

Darkness swallowed the room.

"Run!"

Mara followed her grandmother up the stairs.

Behind them, footsteps began climbing.

Small footsteps.

Slow.

One step.

Then another.

Mara reached the chapel.

Her grandmother slammed the hidden panel shut.

They ran toward the main doors.

The footsteps stopped.

Mara looked back.

Nothing.

She and her grandmother escaped into the night.

The chapel doors slammed behind them.

They reached the car.

Mara turned.

The chapel windows were dark.

"Is it gone?"

Her grandmother shook her head.

"No."

"Where is it?"

Her grandmother looked at Mara.

"It isn't outside."

Mara's stomach dropped.

"What?"

"It followed you."

Mara looked down.

A muddy footprint appeared beside her shoe.

Small.

Bare.

Another appeared.

Then another.

They continued across the ground.

But they weren't coming from the chapel.

They were appearing beside Mara.

One after another.

Leading toward the car.

Her grandmother whispered:

"Don't look behind you."

Mara froze.

A cold breath touched the back of her neck.

A child's voice whispered:

"Too late."

Mara turned.

Nobody was there.

She screamed anyway.

Her grandmother dragged her into the car.

They drove.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Then Mara looked at her grandmother.

"You knew."

"Knew what?"

"You knew Mom didn't die."

Her grandmother stared ahead.

"I knew she disappeared."

"That's not what I'm asking."

Silence.

"Did you ever find her?"

Her grandmother's eyes filled with tears.

"Yes."

Mara's heart stopped.

"When?"

"Three days after the funeral."

"Where?"

"At Blackwood."

"What happened?"

Her grandmother swallowed.

"I heard her knocking."

Mara's face went pale.

"From where?"

"The front door."

"You opened it."

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

Her grandmother stared at the road.

"Your mother."

Mara's voice broke.

"Was it really her?"

"I thought it was."

"What happened?"

"She asked me to bring you."

"Why?"

"She said you belonged to the house."

Mara's stomach turned.

"What did you do?"

"I closed the door."

Her grandmother began crying.

"Then she knocked again."

Mara whispered:

"How many times?"

Her grandmother didn't answer.

"Grandma."

"Twelve."

The car went silent.

"You heard twelve knocks?"

"Yes."

"What happened after the twelfth?"

Her grandmother looked at her.

"She stopped knocking."

"And?"

"Something knocked from inside the house."

Mara stared.

"From inside?"

Her grandmother nodded.

"Three knocks."

Mara remembered the warnings.

Three knocks.

Don't answer.

"Then what?"

"Your mother spoke."

"What did she say?"

Her grandmother's voice trembled.

"She said..."

The old woman stopped.

"What?"

"She said, 'I'm not alone anymore.'"

Mara felt cold.

The car suddenly jerked.

Her grandmother hit the brakes.

The headlights went out.

They were surrounded by darkness.

"What happened?"

Her grandmother tried the ignition.

Nothing.

Mara looked through the windshield.

Someone stood in the road.

A woman.

Long dark hair.

White dress.

Mara recognized her immediately.

Elena.

Her mother.

The woman raised her hand.

Mara's heart pounded.

Then she saw something.

Behind Elena stood another figure.

A child.

Luca.

And behind Luca stood something much taller.

Something without a face.

Mara couldn't move.

The woman's mouth opened.

No sound came out.

Then the car radio switched on.

Static filled the vehicle.

A voice came through.

Not Elena.

Not Luca.

Something else.

"Eleven."

Mara looked at her grandmother.

"What does that mean?"

Her grandmother stared at the figures outside.

The voice repeated:

"Eleven."

Then the headlights came back on.

The road was empty.

Mara looked at the dashboard clock.

11:11.

Her grandmother whispered:

"We have one knock left."

Mara stared at her.

"One knock until what?"

Her grandmother shook her head.

"I don't know."

The radio crackled.

A voice whispered:

"Yes, you do."

The grandmother's face went white.

The car doors locked by themselves.

Mara grabbed the handle.

"Grandma!"

"Don't open it!"

Something knocked on the roof.

Once.

Mara looked up.

Another knock.

Twice.

Her grandmother began praying.

Then the third knock came.

But this time it wasn't from outside.

It came from the trunk.

Mara stared at the rearview mirror.

A child's face appeared in the glass.

Luca.

He whispered:

"Open the first door."

Mara shook her head.

"No."

His expression changed.

"Then I'll open it for you."

The car's trunk suddenly popped open.

Her grandmother screamed.

Mara turned toward the back window.

The trunk was empty.

But something had been placed inside.

A black wooden door.

Small.

Old.

Impossible.

It was the same door from Blackwood Manor.

The same door from her mother's notebook.

The first door.

Mara stared at it.

A tiny brass lock sat in the center.

And hanging from the lock was a metal tag.

12.

Her grandmother whispered:

"It's followed us."

Mara slowly reached for the key in her pocket.

Her grandmother grabbed her wrist.

"No."

Mara looked at her.

"Maybe this is the only way to find Mom."

"No."

"Maybe Luca is trapped behind it."

"No."

"Then what is behind it?"

Her grandmother's eyes filled with terror.

"The thing your mother spent thirteen years trying to keep you away from."

Mara looked at the tiny door.

Something moved behind it.

Then came a whisper.

Not from outside.

Not from the radio.

Not from the trunk.

From inside Mara's own mind.

Open me.

Mara closed her eyes.

The voice continued.

You already did once.

Her eyes opened.

A memory flashed through her mind.

She was eight years old.

Standing in Blackwood Manor.

Luca beside her.

Her mother screaming.

The black door opening.

And Mara holding the brass key.

Mara gasped.

"I opened it."

Her grandmother looked at her.

"Yes."

Mara stared at the door.

"I don't remember."

"You weren't supposed to."

"Why?"

"Because after you opened it..."

Her grandmother's voice broke.

"You were the one who came back."

Mara stared.

"What does that mean?"

Her grandmother didn't answer.

The tiny door in the trunk began to shake.

Once.

Twice.

Then it opened by itself.

There was no room behind it.

Only darkness.

And two pale eyes staring through the darkness.

Mara stopped breathing.

A voice whispered:

"Welcome home."

The trunk slammed shut.

The car engine suddenly started.

Her grandmother stepped on the accelerator.

They sped into the darkness.

Mara sat frozen.

She finally understood why her grandmother had been afraid.

Blackwood wasn't simply a haunted house.

It was a door.

And somehow, thirteen years ago, Mara had already opened it.

The only question was what she had allowed inside.

As the car disappeared down the road, far behind them, the chapel bell began ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then twelve times.

And somewhere beneath Blackwood Manor, something opened its eyes.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR