FicWad

The House of Daria Vane

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I wake up a little while later. My head pounds violently: it feels like someone is bouncing a weighted ball against the inside of my skull. The room seems darker than usual: I glance over at my electric clock, and see that the red numbers have burned out. My breath catches in my throat. What if I missed...?

I open the curtains with a violent pull. Daria's house is still and silent beneath the starless sky. As I watch, a short burst of lightning outlines the clouds overhead, followed by a heavy roll of thunder. I leave the window open and begin tearing through my dresser for the cheap plastic watch Dad bought me a few years ago. Hopefully, the battery is still running.

It is. My watch says 11:30 PM in flashing orange numbers. I pick up my clothes off the floor--a pair of jeans, torn from when I carried Grandma's suitcase up the stairs, and a pale green tee-shirt--fling them on, and jog out the door.

It begins to rain just as I reach Daria's doorstep. Big, hard drops like diamonds sting my upturned face. Where it hits Daria's windows, the Rain leaves red streaks.

I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye: Daria is pinning a blue sheet up over the shattered dining room window. I wave to her and gesture at the door. A moment later, she opens it.

The house hasn't been cleaned since I was over with Larson, but Daria's moved the mirror down off the stairs. It leans against a wall in the foyer. His form is as clear as a painting now, and three wolves crouch around him. His sink and hair glisten in the rain. The wolves' fangs drip blood.

"He is close," Daria says. She sits at the foot of the staircase. "You met him at the Veller house yesterday. What did he say to you?"

"He wanted me to...to join him, the way you did." I look at her: her face is blank. "I said no, of course. He wasn't exactly convincing."

To my surprise, that makes Daria laugh. Sincere laughter, too--not that scared sort of giggle people give when they're too terrified to do anything else. "Oh, Clara!" Daria smiles. "Only you could say that! He was--is--very convincing to some of us, you know. Those of us who wanted adventure couldn't say 'yes' fast enough."

"I've had enough adventure in this lifetime," I say, a little wounded at her reaction. Did I make the wrong choice? "It was an easy answer."

"He was right. You are so very, very like your mother."

I shrug uncomfortably. When he said it, it sounded like a good thing--but from Daria's mouth, it comes almost like a lament. "Did my mother really refuse him?"

"Yes," Daria says. The laughter quickly fades from her voice. "It was the worst decision she could make. I am sorry for it every day."

"He killed her after that, didn't he?"

"Seven years after. You were thirteen. That was the deal I made."

I narrow my eyes. "Another deal?"

"Yes, Clara, another one. You must understand how lonely I am. Cytheria is--was--the only person I could truely be myself around. I thought she understood that. Is it really so odd, then, that I wanted her to stay with me...forever?"

Her voice raises in pitch. She seems to forget that I am here. "I thought, if I asked him to make her an offer, she would accept. That was the bargain: if Cytheria accepted, I could have my friendship. If she didn't..." Her voice trails off. Her head is down, but I know she is crying. "I'm sorry, Clara."

I am numb. Every nerve in my body feels frozen, cased in ice, brittle and dry. "What are you saying?" I gasp. I've never felt so betrayed before, not even at Dad and Sybil's wedding..."I helped you, Daria!"

"Clara, I did not mean for it to end that way!"

"What about me? You haven't made a deal over me, have you?" My heart pounds at the thought.

"No, Clara, I did not. Calm yourself. Come, sit my me."

My anger flows out of me. How can I be angry at her, when such a horrible fate hangs over her head? I join her on the step.

"You know," I say softly, "You're a lot like her, too."

Daria nods. I lay my head on her shoulder, the way I used to with Mom. The lavender smell her daughter so loved clings tightly to Daria's hair. We sit together on the staircase, while rain pounds down on the roof of her house.

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The barking starts at five to midnight.

Daria stands up and begins pacing. I keep my seat on the step. The image in the mirror hasn't grown any clearer, but the wolves are starting to move.

"Daria..."

She isn't listening. Her footsteps gain intensity, until they are as harsh as the rain pounding against the windows. Her whole body is trembling.

The grandfather clock in the next room lets out one low, mournful note.

"What's going to happen, Daria?"

"I don't know."

Something throws itself against the front door. The hinges rattle, but the door holds firm. A gust of wind racks the sheet over the dining room window.

Two minutes to midnight.

I don't want to be here. The feeling comes on suddenly, but it's undeniably strong. I don't want to be in this house.

As if she senses my feelings, Daria turns towards me. "You can go if you want," she says softly.

I shake my head. I can't leave her alone.

One minute to midnight.

A flash of lightning holds the entire house in tableau. The crash of thunder that follows is strong enough to shake the glass in the windows.

I lay my head down on the step behind me. As I do, something in my pocket jabs me in the leg.

Daria is crying softly, still pacing. I reach into my pocket, and my hand closes around something flat, like a scrap of paper, only softer, stronger...

"Daria..."

She wraps her arms tight around her body. "What?"

I pull the dollar out of my pocket. Save it for something special, Grandma said. And I will. "I'd like to place an offer on your house."

The grandfather chimes, once, twice. Twelve chimes till midnight. I hold out the dollar to Daria.

"No! Clara, this house will destroy you!"

Third chime. The barking is getting louder. "I'm not going to repair anything, damn it! Just take the dollar!"

Fourth chime. "And what will you do then?"

"Nothing!" Fifth chime. I hear a brach from the maple tree out back slam against the house. "Something, I don't know, I'll worry about it later. Daria, we don't have time for this! Will you accept my offer?"

Sixth chime, seventh chime. Thunder rumbles, too close for comfort. Daria pauses intollerably long. Eight chime. The carpet I rest my cheek on smells like lavender, and blood. Ninth chime, tenth...

Eleventh...

"Yes," she says. Her hand closes around mine.

The mirror shatters. Glass sprays out across the entrance hall. The howling outside rises to an unbearable volume, and then is cut off abruptly.

Inside the House, all is silent.

The House of Daria Vane is sold.