Serial

17. Broken Wood, Broken Spirits

     The cars that drove past the Swann Manor on the night of Halloween, 2017 were few and far between. Those that did passed the locked iron gate, chained and ominous, and may have look up the hill to a fully lit up house, looking calm amidst the night sky.

      If anyone was to have been trespassing on the Swann property, and had walked up to the windows on the first floor, it was not a sight of serenity inside.

Paco stood in the drawing room of the house. He was in a fit of rage, spending half his time yelling any piece of furniture he could find against the great windows, and the other half yelling out in primal bursts of anger. Despite the mountain of objects he had thrown against the glass of the room, the windows remained intact and scratch free.

     Every new piece that Paco tossed just added fuel to his inner rage. He watched piece after piece of furniture bounce off the glass of the windows, just to fall clumsily against the ground. Eventually his arms ached and his throat was raw from screaming out. He sat upon the pile of broken furniture, avoiding the splintering wood and broken vases, and put his head in his hands.

     As his breathing calmed he heard the door swing open slowly. A woman's head peaked through, before she stepped in, eyes wide. Another woman followed behind her.

     “What the hell happened here?” Annabelle asked, keeping her distance from Paco. She looked him up and down. His face was painted to look like a skull. His head was shaved bald, and the white paint continued down the back of his neck. His eyes were dark, looking extra sunken from the black face paint.

     He looked deeply into Annabelle's eyes, then he began to laugh. Slowly at first, then it became maniacal. He threw his head in the air and began speaking quickly in spanish, before switching back to english with a heavy accent. “It's begun. The spirits have come to get revenge. I'm going to die here!”

     “Maybe we should just go…” Aimie whispered it into Annabelle's ear, and she nodded and began to step back.

     “Where the f**k do you think you're going?” Paco's head snapped to the girls as they begun their retreated. They froze in their tracks. Paco stood up. He grabbed a long piece of wood out of the pile of broken furniture, and began beating on the windows relentlessly. The wood broke in his hands, flying off in chunks, and the glass remained unscathed.

     “Who the hell are you?” Paco spat at the two women. He held the remaining large splinter of wood in his hands and took a step towards them.

     “Aimie.” Her voice was quiet and wavering.

     Paco's head turned to Annabelle. His eyes staring deep into hers. She held her ground and spoke in a strong voice. “Who the hell are you?”

     Paco tutted and took another step forward. “That's rude, chica, I asked you first.”

     Paco pointed the piece of wood at her and took another step.

     “Annabelle! Her name is Annabelle!” Aimie yelled it out from near the door. She didn't dare to run out of the room just yet. Annabelle turned her head and stared daggers at her.

     Paco looked between the two of them, then threw his splintered piece of wood back into the pile. “Was that so hard?”

     It was Annabelle's turn to take a step forward. Paco stood still with his arms crossed as Annabelle tentatively kept walking forward. She arrived at one of the windows, and knocked on it with her knuckles.

     “Fuck.”

     “What's wrong?”Aimie's voice quietly called out from across the room.

     “It's reinforced. We can't smash it. Not unless we had like a pickaxe or something.”

      Paco stretched his neck and starting walking towards the door. Aimie pressed herself against the wall, distancing herself from him.

      “Wait!” Annabelle called out. Paco stopped and turned his head slightly towards her. “Did you hear the message? There's a way out of here. There's a clue on everyone's wristband, but we have to do them in order.”

      Paco stood silently a moment before speaking. “There is only one way out of here, chica. The Nahual are here, and they're calling for our spirits to join them.”

      With that Paco walked out of the room. Annabelle and Aimie listened quietly as the sound of his footsteps went further and further down the hall.

      “Who the hell was that!?” Aimie half yelled, half whispered as she closed the door and ran up to Annabelle.

      “Must be another guest. He's probably high or something. Watch out for him.”

      “f**k you don't have to tell me twice. Is it really not breakable?”

      Annabelle looked down at the pile of broken furniture that was scattered across the ground. She shook her head and looked back towards the big windows.

      “When this house was built she must not have wanted anyone breaking in. IT just means we'll have to find another way out. Was there a door in the kitchen at all?”

      “I don't think so. There was a door to the pantry and a door that went down to the cellar, but I wasn't supposed to go down there.”

     Annabelle started walking towards the door of the room, then she froze and turned back to Aimie.

     “Who told you not to go down there?”

     “The butler guy.”

     “Butler?”

     “Yeah, he said I could use all of the kitchen, but I wasn't to go down into the cellar.”

     “Was there a freezer in the kitchen?”

     “A small one. I didn't really need one.”

      “You made all the food in the dining room right? Plated it and everything?”

      Aimie nodded, “I even set the table. Except…”

      “Except?”

      “The ice sculpture wasn't there when I set the table. I was disorientated before so I couldn't remember if it was there or not before I passed out. But I'm sure now. It definitely wasn't there until after.”

      “That means someone had to put it there. Someone wasn't knocked out when everyone else was. I think it's time we look in the cellar.” Annabelle walked out of the room with purpose, her heeled boots clacking as she walked.

     Aimie looked around once more, then carefully stepped over the various pieces of broken wood. She took a moment to pick up one large splinter of wood, and tuck it into the pocket of her apron.