The Flight into the Dark

Arthur didn't bother packing a bag. He ran through the suffocating corridors of the mansion, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the oppressive silence. He burst into the master bedroom.

Evelyn was sitting at her vanity, calmly brushing her hair.

"Evelyn! Get up!" Arthur gasped, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. "We have to go. Right now."

She looked at him mildly, her brush still in her hand. "Whatever is the matter, Arthur? You're sweating."

"Your father!" Arthur yelled, frantic, pulling her toward the door. "He’s insane! The house, the money—it’s all a trap. He’s into the occult, Evelyn. Dark magic. He’s trying to kill me, or—or worse! He wants to put something inside me!"

Evelyn didn't resist, but she didn't hurry either. She allowed herself to be pulled down the grand staircase. "Arthur, you're not making sense. You're having another episode."

"I saw the book!" he screamed, his voice breaking into a sob. "I saw the altar in the conservatory! We have to leave!"

He dragged her out the heavy oak front doors. The Maine weather had turned violently. A torrential downpour was lashing the estate, accompanied by cracking thunder that shook the ground. The wind howled, whipping Evelyn's nightgown around her ankles.

Arthur pulled her toward the iron gates at the end of the long driveway, his expensive leather shoes slipping in the thick, freezing mud. "The car. We just need to get to the road. Someone will pick us up. We'll go to the police."

"Arthur, it's so dark," Evelyn said, her voice raising to be heard over the storm. "We shouldn't be out here. Let me lead the way. I know the grounds."

Desperate, blinded by the rain and his own panic, Arthur nodded, relinquishing his grip on her arm and letting her take his hand.

Evelyn's grip was startlingly cold, and shockingly strong. She pulled him off the main gravel driveway, leading him into the dense, overgrown woods that flanked the estate. Thorns tore at Arthur’s clothes and face, but he didn't care. He just kept running, fueled by the primal terror of the hollowed-out vessel.

They ran for what felt like miles, the darkness absolute, the storm raging around them.

Suddenly, Evelyn stopped. Arthur slammed into her back, gasping for air. "Why did we stop? Where are the gates?"

A flash of lightning illuminated the space before them.

They were not at the gates. They were deep within the estate grounds, standing before a massive, subterranean stone structure built into the side of a hill. Heavy iron doors, etched with terrifying, writhing demonic runes, stood slightly ajar.

It was the Family Crypt.

Arthur backed away, his heart stopping in his chest. "No. No, Evelyn, why did you bring us here? The road is the other way!"

Evelyn turned to face him. Another flash of lightning lit her features. Her eyes were empty, devoid of any human warmth, any love, any soul. She looked exactly like her father.

"I know," she said smoothly, her voice cutting through the roar of the storm with terrifying clarity. "But you aren't going to the road, Arthur."

Before he could react, Evelyn lunged forward. With a strength that defied her delicate frame, she shoved him backward. Arthur lost his footing in the mud and tumbled down the short flight of stone stairs, crashing hard onto the stone floor of the crypt.

Pain exploded in his shoulder, but he scrambled immediately to his feet, rushing back toward the iron doors.

Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. She reached out and grabbed the heavy iron handles.

"Evelyn, please!" Arthur begged, his voice tearing from his throat. "I love you! Don't do this!"

"I was bred for this, Arthur," she replied softly. "Just as my mother was before me. To find the ambitious. To find the desperate. To bring the vessel home."

She slammed the heavy iron doors shut. The sound echoed like a death knell in the subterranean dark. The heavy *clunk* of a deadbolt sliding into place sealed his fate.