Free The Demon's Grave by E.M. MacCallum Page A

the night plotting to scare the crap out of me.
    “Nah,” Aidan said, “the inside has had a lot of work done. Hopefully, this summer the porch will be done.” He wiggled the railing again, a disapproving line stretching between his brows.
    “Hope someone brought candles and flashlights,” Read said, flashing extraordinarily white teeth.
    “I brought lots and there should be a bunch in here still,” Aidan stepped onto the creaking porch steps. He wobbled once he reached the slant, stretching his arms for balance. The grey boards creaked and groaned as he shuffled to the antique front door. Producing a key from his jeans he unlocked it and pushed it open. The hinges shrieked their protest, imitating every cliché haunted house.
    Aidan hopped through the threshold and motioned for us to follow.
    Read stepped up beside Phoebe. She glared at him and without warning he shoved her to the side and launched himself onto the porch. Spitting flames, Phoebe stumbled before darting after him. She came close to pulling his pants down as she fought to beat him into the house.
    They slid on the slanted surface like Bambi on ice, entertaining the rest of us. The worthy struggle ended with Read winning the match. Phoebe was quick to complain about the false start as they clambered into the house, their voices carrying into a renewed argument.
    Cody helped Robin along the porch. Her high heels weren’t equipped for the dramatic arch. She cracked jokes about breaking a leg while swaying like a weeble-wobble doll. Reaching the front door, she caught Aidan’s outstretched hand.
    I could hear Robin’s “ooos” and “awws” as I grabbed the shifting railing.
    Aidan waited at the door as I climbed onto the slant. It seemed my sneakers would come in handy after all. Sliding a little, I made it to the doorframe. Aidan had offered his hand after a hesitation, but I didn’t take it. “I’m fine,” I told him as I landed on a solid wood floor, leaving the rickety porch behind.
    Dusting off my hands, I could see that he was right about it looking better inside.
    Unmarred drywall had been painted an off-white. The real hardwood floors held a thick film of dust, and now it had footprints. Read inspected the wood framing around every archway. It had been painted so many times there had to be a half-an-inch of dark brown paint on them.
    Robin was inspecting a clawed-foot dining table in the room ahead of me while Cody stared at the wall.
    It was like stepping back into history. The furniture was sparse, but little details like glass doorknobs and brass light-switch coverings were indicators of its time.
    To my left, Read was talking to Aidan about firewood and I followed them into what could have been a quaint living room. Devoid of furniture it housed a brick fireplace and a window that wasn’t covered with plywood. The window’s glass was thick, almost making the world outside look a little off.
    Behind me, Read blew at the mantel before coughing and sputtering. Looking over my shoulder I saw the swirling dust fill the faded sunlit room like a fog. Read waved his hand from side to side in front of his face before plucking the dusty lantern from the mantel.
    “We could totally have a fire,” Aidan pointed out, serious. “Dad told me the chimney was cleaned last weekend and flue still works, so…‌”
    The dust was starting to tickle the back of my throat.
    Read looked back at me. “Nora you want to help me get wood?”
    Robin started to laugh and I almost choked. “Uuuhhh…‌”
    “What’s upstairs?” Phoebe’s voice echoed.
    Aidan brushed past me into the entrance. I turned to see Phoebe standing on the stairs, creaking them under her shifting weight for entertainment. The stairs turned behind her and disappeared from sight. The wood railing was cracked and some of the spindles were missing.
    “It’s kind of messy. I don’t know if you want to go up there,” Aidan warned as she reached the first landing.
    Phoebe flashed