Read Hell House for Free Online Page A

his flashlight into the murky green depths of it. He walked to the end of the pool and knelt at its corner. Pulling up the sleeve of his sweater, he put his hand in the water. "Not too cold," he said, surprised. He felt around. "And water's coming in. The pool must work on a separate generator."
    Florence gazed across the glinting pool. The ripples made by Fischer were gliding across its surface. "Something in here,"
    she said. She did not look to Fischer for verification.
    "Steam room's down the other end." Fischer returned to her side.
    "Let's look at it."
    The ringing echoes of their footsteps as they walked along the edge of the pool made it sound as though someone were following them. Florence glanced across her shoulder. "Yes," she murmured, unaware that she had spoken.
    Fischer pulled open the heavy metal door and held it ajar, playing the flashlight beam inside. The steam room was twelve feet square, its walls, floor, and ceiling tiled in white. Built-in wooden benches lined the walls, and spiraling across the floor like some petrified serpent was a length of faded green hose connected to a water outlet.
    Florence grimaced. "Perverted," she said. "In there—" She swallowed as though to rid her throat of sour bile. "In there ," she said. "But what?"
    Fischer let the door swing shut, the thumping closure of it echoing loudly. Florence glanced at him; then, as he turned away, she fell into step beside him. "Doctor Barrett is certainly well equipped, isn't he?" she said, trying to lighten his mood. "It's strange to think he really believes that science alone can end the power of this house."
    "What will?"
    "Love," she answered. She squeezed his arm. "We know that, don't we?"
    Fischer held open the swinging door for her, and they went back into the corridor. "What's over there?" Florence crossed the hallway and opened a wooden door. Fischer pointed the flashlight beam inside. It was a wine cellar, all its shelves and racks empty. Florence winced. "I see this room completely filled with bottles." She turned away. "Let's not go in."
    They went back up the staircase and started along the first-floor corridor. As they passed the chapel door, Florence shuddered. "That place is the worst of all," she said. "Even though I haven't seen the entire house, somehow I have the feeling .
    . ."
    Her voice faded as she spoke. She cleared her throat. "I'll get in there," she said.
    They turned into an adjoining corridor. Twenty yards along its right wall was an archway. "What have we here?" Florence walked beneath the archway and caught her breath. " This house ," she said.
    The ballroom was immense, its lofty, brocaded walls adorned with red velvet draperies. Three enormous chandeliers hung, spaced, along the paneled ceiling. The floor was oak, elaborately parqueted. At the far end of the room was an alcove for musicians.
    "A theater, yes, but this?" said Florence. "Can a ballroom be an evil place?"
    "The evil came later," Fischer said.
    Florence shook her head. "Contradictions." She looked at Fischer. "You're right, it's going to take a while. I feel as if I'm standing in the center of a labyrinth of such immeasurable intricacy that the prospect of emerging is—" She caught herself.
    "We will emerge, however."
    Overhead, there was a tinkling noise. Fischer jerked up his arm, pointing the flashlight at the parabola of heavy hanging crystal above them. Its pendants refracted the light, splaying colors of the spectrum across the ceiling. The chandelier was motionless.
    "The challenge is met," whispered Florence.
    "Don't be too quick to accept it," Fischer warned.
    Florence looked at him abruptly. "You're blocking it off," she said.
    "What?"
    " You're blocking it off . That's why you didn't feel those things."
    Fischer's smile was cold. "I didn't feel them because they weren't there. I was a Spiritualist too, remember. I know how you people find things in every corner when you want to."
    "Ben, that isn't true." Florence looked hurt. "Those