* * *
Kimberly stumbled her way through the house, rubbing at her eyes. She woke up with a pounding headache and vague memories of nightmares from the previous night. Sighing, she made her way past a group of hired hands who were busy packaging up furniture. Her father’s partner, Gass, had gotten on the ball quickly, and a team of appraisers was boring through the home, assigning values to belongings that rightfully should have been hers.
She walked into the kitchen and got a giant glass of orange juice. Making herself some toast, she sat down at the table across from her mother, who was busy conducting business on her laptop.
Kimberly peeked at her mother’s face. It was strange to think of her as a person anymore. When Kimberly was little, she vaguely remembered a woman who would at least smile on occasion or even talk to the other mothers. Now, she was just her father’s secretary most of the time and his assistant the rest.
Seeing a newspaper on the table, she opened it up. Several stories about her grandfather had been printed in tribute and she soaked them all up. She began chugging down her juice and didn’t notice when her brothers sat down next to her, pinning her in the middle.
Zane was eating the last of the lunch meat from the fridge and Billy was eating a bowl of cereal. Lowering her paper, she saw that her mom had left, leaving her alone with the twins.
“No, seriously, I found this in his room.” Billy pulled out a knife with what looked like gems in the handle. “It was under the mattress. It’s sharp too.” He jammed it down into the wood of the table and Kimberly winced.
Zane just smiled. “I found a mace.”
Billy wrinkled his nose. “That spray shit?”
“No, stupid, a mace. It’s like a big club, big as my arm. It just fits in my suitcase. You could bust up a car or something with it.”
“I bet there’s some other cool shit here. We can sneak it home and sell it ourselves. Hey, Worm, where did the old guy keep his good shit?” Billy poked Kimberly. The twins had almost never been to the house, not since they were very little.
“I don’t know.” She dropped the paper and started to stand. Zane nodded at Billy and they stood up, each placing a hand on her shoulder. They pushed her back down.
“Sounds like the worm is lying.”
“Of course she is. That’s because all this crap is hers. Dad is selling it all.” Zane got in her face. “How about it, Worm? If you tell us where the good stuff is, we’ll help you smuggle some of it back.”
“Yeah, like that collection everybody is talking about. I heard that people on the internet are pricing six figures for helmets and stuff.” Billy held her shoulders down and spoke above her. “Dad isn’t going to give you the money anyway. You could sell stuff and run away if you wanted.”
Kimberly knew this game. When she was little, the twins had lied to her about all sorts of things. She had a suspicious feeling that this was her father’s doing. He didn’t know about the secret cave on the island and likely would sell the land to somebody who might discover it later.
“I don’t know.”
Zane pulled on her feet and wrestled her to the floor. Kimberly swung her fists, but was overpowered. The twins stretched her out and pulled off her socks.
They began to tickle her. Not the fun kind of tickling, but the vicious kind that would likely leave scratch marks behind. Kimberly rolled and fought, struggling through her gasps to pull air into her lungs. Both of her brothers were well built from all the sports they played and it was easy for them to resist her.
“Stop it!” Kimberly tried to fight back, but her brothers were simply too strong. She wasn’t sure what was coming, but it made her jumpy.
“We haven’t had much to do ourselves, you know. No friends, no basketball. So, we’ve taken up gambling.”
“Get off!” She tried to bite Zane when his hand came close, but he just pulled it away. He fought to pin her arms upward, making her very uncomfortable.
“Guess what we started betting on?” Billy had pulled her pant legs up a bit and now held her ankles in his hands.
“What do you think, how much juice did she drink with breakfast?”
Kimberly’s eyes widened as she realized what they were after.
“Maybe two minutes?” Zane smiled and gazed down into his little sister’s face. Not yet eighteen, she could still see the reminiscence of a young boy in the lines of his face.
“I bet you five.”
“Don’t punch her in the stomach. That’s cheating.”
“Agreed.” Billy began working her feet and Zane started doing her armpits. Their fingers dug in and started wiggling around on her sensitive skin. Losing control, she giggled and screamed at the same time, hoping that her mother hadn’t gone far.
“Wiggle worm, wiggle worm,” Billy chanted.
“Oh, look at her squirm.” Zane joined in.
“Don’t make a mess, Worm!”
“Don’t mess your dress, Worm!”
Between the two of them on top of her and the incessant tickling, Kimberly felt her abdominal muscles starting to spasm. She fought back harder, but to no avail. This was a new level of degradation on her brothers’ part, one more thing to add to her growing list of hate.
As her body twisted and writhed, she caught a glance at the window into the kitchen. She briefly saw blue sky and part of the rose bush outside. Zane twisted and blocked her view for a moment, but when he moved back, she saw something different.
The stranger smiled at her with his big pointy teeth while the breath from his nostrils left streaks of condensation down the glass. He watched in delight as the two boys tormented their sister.
The man started doing a little jig outside, in time with her brothers’ chants. She could see his arms flail skyward in a whirling motion as her misery became his delight. Her screams had still gone unnoticed by her mother and the skin on her arms and legs was already starting to chafe from the carpet. The stranger covered his eyes with his hands, like he was playing peek-a-boo.
He pulled them away to reveal her father’s eyes.
Kimberly felt her bladder relax. She pretended not to notice her brothers as they became disgusted. She closed her eyes, violated, and let the tears flow freely as the sadness in her heart overwhelmed her.
“Ah, gross.”
“That is nasty. Way more than one glass of juice.”
“And way less than five minutes.”
“Fine. Here’s your damn dollar.”
Her brothers left her on the floor, the wet stain in the crotch of her pants spreading down her legs. When she tried to get up, it felt like her stomach was torn.
When she opened her eyes to look out the window again, the stranger was gone.
At an all-new low, she stood and limped back to her room, careful to avoid the strangers in the house. In her room, she took off her clothes and threw them in a trash bag. She would never wear them again.
Stripping free of her clothing, she stared briefly at herself in the mirror. She was weak, pathetic, and alone. The room she was in was stripped of books. Her life had been stripped of light. And now…
She felt the anger build. Maybe she should go take a few things from grandfather’s collection. Maybe then she would have at least something to remember him by.
She showered and changed into clean clothes. Wrapped in a towel, she walked out to see Ip sitting on her bed, his giant ears cocked. He had something in his mouth.
“What do you have, Ip?” She put out a hand and Ip dropped the item and jumped off the bed, his tiny feet silent on the hardwood floor. He looked up at her as she regarded the cold metal key in her hand. The one that opened the door on the island.
Kimberly looked down at Ip and it occurred to her that her door had been shut.
The events of the last few days made her stop for a moment. A flash of her dream came back and a word popped into her mind.
“Homunculus. He’s a homunculus. And you,” she looked at Ip. “I’m starting to think you’r
e not a fox.”
Ip smiled, his tiny tongue rolling out the side of his mouth.
She ran to her closet and opened it. The inside was painted pink and along the bottom were drawings that her and Grandfather had done in crayon. She could vividly remember lying on the floor with a pack of crayons, doodling without inhibition. Even there, a tiny picture of Ip was standing next to her. The picture was from when she was five—ten years ago.
Ip wandered in and sat, watching her. Kimberly ran her fingers over the drawings. She would wait until tonight to take the boat out to the island. And then she and Ip would leave.
She closed the door and curled up on the floor. Ip watched as she fell asleep, the stress of the situation catching up to her. Ip’s eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting a light with no source.
* * *
The homunculus was little more than a mist to anybody looking. Confident he wouldn’t be discovered, he stared through the upstairs window of Hal’s home with hunger, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got what he most desired. He was watching Nathan Stone pace back and forth, chuckling at the anticipation he knew the human was experiencing. With phantom fingers pressed up against the glass, it took a chance and sent its consciousness forth, entering Nathan’s mind.
The homunculus felt Nathan’s satisfaction as he watched the house stripped of its décor from the upstairs landing. Nathan thought about how he and Gass had crunched the numbers and the liquidation of the estate would be extremely profitable. The money was all Kimberly’s, of course, but in a show of humanitarianism, she would decide to donate it to charity. His daughter would never see a dime of it.
The homunculus listened for a few more minutes. Every time Nathan thought of the girl, the homunculus grinned with smoky teeth. Oh, how Nathan hated the girl.
He was hungry. The homunculus began to fan those flames of hatred, tickling the poisonous thoughts in Nathan Stone’s heart. It wouldn’t be long.
* * *
Nathan had been content to watch the slow demolition of his father’s memory. Every time something else left the front door never to return, his heart soared a little higher.
However, something that started as a tickle in the back of his mind wormed its way forward.
Kimberly.
Nathan realized that Kimberly was still holding on to the old man’s memory. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt an overwhelming desire to punish her for it, teach her a lesson she would never forget. He started pacing even more, nervous energy flooding his limbs.
He couldn’t let go of the thought that she still held Hal Stone in such high regard. It was with no amount of surprise that he found himself drifting through the house to his daughter’s bedroom. Looking inside, he saw that she wasn’t there.
Uncertain of his next actions, he felt another thought wriggle free. The old man was still with her somehow, his influence still in this room.
The bag, a voice said. He’s in her bag.
Nathan furrowed his brow for a moment at the mental intrusion and saw what the voice wanted him to see. Kimberly had partially tucked her schoolbag beneath her bed.
Guided by a strange instinct, he opened up her bag and pulled out one of her textbooks. Trembling fingers ripped the binding back to reveal a different book inside.
“I knew it.” His father still had Kimberly in his grasp. Clutching the book, he began to wander through the house, bellowing her name. He saw his wife duck away into a room ahead of him, which was good for her.
“Kimberly!” He took a swing at a piece of furniture and knocked it from the wall. He ordered the twins to find her and began storming through the house, causing the appraisal people to soon clear out. The louder he screamed, the louder the creature outside laughed. It wasn’t long before his head was pounding and the sun was setting. Seeing his wife in a corner somewhere, he informed her to send him the girl when she was found. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and went to his father’s library.
He sat there with the lights off, his head beginning to pound and his thoughts becoming muddy.
* * *
Outside, the creature smiled. He ran shadowy fingers along the glass in circles as his excitement built. The homunculus had Nathan in his thrall now. Watching through the window, he began playing Nathan’s sanity, strumming the strings of reason until they began to snap.
* * *
Kimberly had heard her father’s voice earlier, but knew better than to answer. She stayed hidden in the closet, hoping nobody would open the door. Ip stayed with her the whole time, giving off more warmth than a creature his size should. Something in the air created a thick sort of anticipation, like a coming storm. Much like her nightmare, she felt like strange rules were being set in place, rules that no longer followed logic.
Several times she heard her mother and her brothers stop by her room. She couldn’t be sure what time it was, but eventually, she knew they would look in here. Their unfamiliarity with the house and its sheer size were her temporary allies.
Waiting for quiet, she opened the door of her closet. She pocketed the key and looked around her room. This wouldn’t be the first time she had run away, but hopefully it would be the last. There was nothing she needed to take with her other than the key and Ip.
She held the fox in her arms and snuck through the house, trying to make it to the back door. In the living room, Billy was sitting on a chair, shouting Kimberly’s name every couple of minutes while he looked through a dirty magazine he had brought with him. Kimberly chuckled inwardly, happy at her brother’s laziness.
Taking the route through the kitchen, she started to walk to the back door and had her hand on the knob when another hand closed over her own. She turned and saw her mother staring down at her. Ip barked once and jumped down, disappearing around a corner.
“Where have you been? Your father has been looking for you.” Her mom pulled Kimberly’s hand off the knob. “Honestly, I have no idea why you would be so selfish. Your father is under a lot of pressure, his dad passed away, and you can’t for a moment think of anybody but yourself.”
“Mom, do you love me?”
The question caught her mom off guard and she almost let go of Kimberly’s arm. Almost.
Her mom started to answer, stuttering over her own words. Kimberly watched her reaction carefully, realizing the truth of the matter. Her mom had no emotions, opinions, or independent thought. She did as her husband dictated, thought as he told her.
Without an answer, her mother dragged her away. Kimberly fought against her, but was still incapable of striking her mother. They walked to the library and Kimberly was pushed into the room, the door shutting behind her.
Before his death, the library had been floor-to-ceiling books. The first ten feet of bookshelves recessed into another floor, which had another ten feet of books. The room itself was circular, with rolling ladders and the works. In the middle was a set of reading couches and a great big fireplace that warmed the room.
Now, though, the room had been stripped of decoration. All the furniture was gone, save for a single black leather chair. Kimberly saw the haggard figure sitting in the chair and almost didn’t recognize her father. Something much deeper than anger had changed his appearance.
Nathan Stone sat, a snifter of brandy in one hand. His hair was ruffled and sticking up in every direction. His face belied his full forty-eight years, sagging in places Kim had never noticed. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, something she had never seen before. Even though his demeanor had changed, his eyes still held a cruel clarity to them.
“Kimberly.” It was remarkable how many unsaid promises could be heard in a single word.
“Yes, sir?” She could tell he was on the edge of being drunk. History screamed at her to run away before the conversation went further, but fear rooted her to the spot.
“Come here.” He beckoned her with one crooked finger, and then pointed to the floor right in front of him. “Now.”
She stood b
efore him, hands held together at her waist. His breathing was raspy and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He regarded her for almost a minute in silence, and she waited.
“Hand me that.” He pointed behind her. She turned around and saw that a metal lighter had been placed on the desk. She grabbed it and handed it to him. His fingers closed around the cool metal, but their eyes never met.
“When I was your age, I suffered living with the man who owned this home.” He sighed and gulped half of his glass away. “To you, he was just a crackpot with too many wives’ tales and fish stories. To the world, he was a creative genius.”
Nathan chuckled to himself and began flicking the metal lid open with his thumb, then slamming it shut with the flick of his wrist.
“This world welcomed his collective crap with open arms. Those stories of his made movies, toys, millions.” He looked wistfully at the now empty library, its shelves stripped bare of their contents. “Only I knew him for what he truly was.” He flicked the lighter open and a flame jumped from its depths. It seemed to calm Nathan momentarily.
Kim sat and waited for her father to continue. Nathan regarded his daughter past the flame.
“He was a madman. An unleashed terror. Do you know how I know this?”
Kim shook her head.
“Because he actually believed his stories had happened.” Nathan flicked the lighter shut and stood. He walked over to the fireplace, which was cold and empty. One click of a knob and it sprang into life, warming the cool air around them. Nathan sat back down at his chair, dragging a cardboard box Kim hadn’t seen with him.
“When I was little, it was all he could talk about sometimes. How much he missed the Lake of Mists. His cottage up in the Wheatly Hills. Sometimes he would read the paper and comment about how something would never have happened in the City of Light. He was sick.” Nathan’s breathing had accelerated and he chugged the last of his brandy. He held the glass up in front of his face and Kim expected him to chuck it into the fire. Instead, he set it down on the floor to his left.
“And this sickness is something he passed to you.” His eyes were like fire as he stared her down. “This illness of his is in your blood; it lies in wait; it creeps through the folds of your mind.” He poked her hard in the forehead. He had been biting his nails, something he never did, and the jagged edge broke her skin. Nathan didn’t notice.