Haunt Arc

A van rolled along a dirt track and into a village. It was a patchwork of architectural styles, from boxy concrete houses to modern, curved objects that counted as much as artwork as structures, to a Gothic steeple-topped cathedral near the centre. The road was mostly paved in bluestone, with an assortment of rubbish strewn through the gutters. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a purple-red glow across the extensive cloud cover. Country music burbled from the van.

“Turn that off, or so help me –”

The speaker was a blonde-brunette sitting in the back named Michelle. She wore tennis shoes and tight jeans that showed off her legs, a red shirt with a dark brown jacket to make her skin look fairer, and unmatched bracelets on either wrist. She could pull off either the jock or fashionista look, depending on her mood; she’d picked fashionista for tonight, although she hadn’t bothered going all-out with makeup or jewellery. She jiggled her leg irritably.

“It kind of sets the mood,” said a half-Chinese girl sitting opposite her named Sue.

She had picked a royal purple knee skirt, a white shirt, and a baby blue windcheater. She had a leather satchel on her lap, and was pressed against the boy next to her, watching him play a handheld video game. She was long-sighted and needed glasses, but right now, they were hanging from her neckline.

Michelle turned back to look at her, aghast. “You like this?”

“Huh?” Sue asked, looking up. “No, it’s appalling, but it works well on a road trip.”

The driver was called Roger. He was only a few years older than the others, but they were the crucial ones at the end of adolescence that were the difference between a kid and a young man. He had dark hair and eyes and a day’s scruff. His clothes were worn but neat, jeans and jacket, faded to dull blue and brown. Even when he spoke, he focused intently on the road, only occasionally glancing at the girl in the seat next to him.

“Yeah, that was what I was thinking when I put it on,” he said.

Michelle gave a despairing sigh. “Just change it to literally anything else. We can set the mood with an endless parade of Scooby Doo jokes.”

“Jinkies!” said Sue.

Michelle just shook her head and stretched out her legs, wishing there were more space in the van. Sue scooted her own legs back to make room, not least because she’d taken her own shoes off earlier.

Roger twisted the radio knob, went through a blur of static, and found someone talking.

“– stars landing across South America, now beginning to fall into the south of the Pacific Ocean. Astronomers predict that the shower will continue late into –”

He kept going and finally settled on a Russian orchestral channel playing the Korobeiniki.

“Now you’re talking,” said Sue.

A dog barked as they went along. It was otherwise dead quiet.

“This is a weird village,” said Charlotte. “Michelle, have you been here before?”

“Once, when I was a kid,” she said, looking out a window. “Uncle Maurice held a dinner party in the town hall. I don’t remember it, and my parents never came back. He was … eccentric.”

“We already figured that one,” Roger said. “No offence.”

“None taken. I always had the impression he would have fit in much better three or four hundred years ago. When I saw him when I was thirteen, he asked my parents if I had any suitors yet. So yeah, I think ‘eccentric’ just about nails it.”

The name of the boy sitting beside Sue was Jason. He was a bit chubby, which was inconvenient in the crowded van, but it meant he could get away without needing a jacket; he’d taken khaki cargo pants, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved grey shirt, and called it a day. He had light brown hair that fell to his collar, framing a baby face, intent on the game, where he was making good progress.

“So why are we visiting him?” he asked, pausing his game. Sue gently tugged it out of his hands.

Michelle stared. “Visiting?”

“Yeah, visiting,” Jason repeated.

In the very back was a leggy girl with a mass of curly black hair named Lucia. She was lean but seemingly impervious to the cold, wearing only black running shorts and a tight, stretchy black t-shirt that left her shoulders bare. She looked asleep, curled up on a pile of sleeping bags, but chimed in regularly. She gave a strong impression of having been a cat in her previous life.

“That is what we’re doing, right?” she asked, not opening her eyes.

“That – no. He’s dead,” Michelle said. “Didn’t I explain this to you?”

“No,” said Roger, keeping his eyes on the road. “You said to me, ‘Hey Roger, want to drive me and some friends on a road trip to my uncle’s old castle?’ I’m not complaining, exactly, but …”

“I didn’t even know who’d be coming,” Jason said. “I still don’t know how all these people are connected to you. Roger’s your friend’s brother, who happens to have a van? And Lucy’s … someone?”

“Got it in one,” Lucia said.

Michelle waved this aside. “Well, he was mysteriously murdered last week, and apparently he liked me, because I was one of his primary beneficiaries.”

Beside Roger was his little sister, Charlotte, whose long dark red hair was so unlike his that they wouldn’t look related if it weren’t for their shared mannerisms. She wore a red jacket unzipped over a pink t-shirt, plus a pair of skinny jeans. She wasn’t any shorter than Sue, but she was skinnier than her and shorter than Roger, which combined to make her look much smaller. She’d napped on and off for the entire trip, leading Michelle to complain that she should have had the shotgun seat, but as it was Roger’s van, it was his rules.

“Wait, murdered?” Charlotte said. “Did they catch whoever did it?”

“Nope. They don’t even have any clues. Anyway –”

“I don’t think this is something you can ‘anyway’ away,” Charlotte pressed, concerned. “Was he here when it happened? If the murderer is still on the loose, what if they come for one of us? How did it happen, anyway?”

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“You faint at the sight of blood,” Sue said. “Are you sure you want to ask that question?”

“,” Charlotte said.

“They haven’t found the weapon,” Michelle said, “and it’s fine, he was in rural France at the time. Anyway, the main thing I inherited was a castle. That one up ahead.”

Everyone in the back crouched, angling themselves to see through the windscreen. An imposing, irregular stone shape loomed in the distance.

“Castle de Lumière.”

“You own a castle,” Charlotte said. “Okay, apparently that’s a thing now.”

“For now,” Michelle said. “What am I going to do with a castle? That’s the epitome of a dead asset. As soon as we’re done here, I’m auctioning it off and putting the money onto the Dow Jones. But first, I want to go treasure-hunting. It used to be a strongpoint for a robber faux noble back in the sixteen hundreds, and the records say that most of the treasure stolen isn’t accounted for. There’s a fortune hidden there.”

“And you want us to help look for it,” Sue said.

“For free,” Roger noted.

“Jeez! If you find anything, we’ll split it.”

As she spoke, she gesticulated for emphasis, and accidentally clipped the boy sleeping next to her, the seventh and final member of their group. He was a sandy blond who happened to be called Aaron. He wore loose-fitting clothes: a dark blue tracksuit, a teal shirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a blue hoodie several sizes too large. He’d been dozing for the past half hour, but he started at this; they all froze for a moment, but he snuffled and seemed to stay asleep.

“That’s if there’s even anything there,” Sue said at length. “It’s probably been picked over in the four hundred years since then, and if I found anything, I wouldn’t have told anyone.” There was a pause, during which Jason elbowed her in the ribs. “I’ll definitely say if I find anything now, of course.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I’ve made a terrible decision,” Michelle said under her breath, then, aloud, “The treasure idea isn’t really serious. I just figured I should at least visit a castle once before having it quarried, and it’s a lot more appealing to do that with friends than entirely alone.”

“It’s fine,” said Charlotte. “We brought board games, so it’ll be fun either way.”

There was a pause.

“I want to say something snarky,” Michelle said, “but it’d be like kicking a puppy.”

“This is why I try not to say snarky things,” Charlotte said.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Michelle said.

“I do! And it seems really unpleasant for everyone else.”

“We’re here,” Roger said, killing the engine.

Before them stood the castle, a veritable fortress, with intricate walls, all curves and angles, with towers, arrow slits, gargoyles, and random protrusions dotting its length. Directly ahead was a huge wooden gate. In front of that, though, was a moat.

“For the record, this van isn’t waterproof,” he said. “Nor is it rated to go through walls.”

“What a piece of junk,” Jason said.

“I keep meaning to upgrade,” Roger replied, deadpan.

Michelle shook Aaron awake and everyone piled out.

“So,” Charlotte said, after an awkward silence stretched out longer than it ought to have, “how do we get inside?”

“I assumed there’d be a door knocker,” Michelle said.

Aaron leaned over the moat to see better, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “There is,” he said. “Right there, beside the drawbridge. On the opposite side of the moat.”

Michelle ran her hands through her hair, careful to comb it back rather than muss it up. “I said he was eccentric,” she said. “Let’s see. That water looks fetid. Does anyone have a long pole …”

There was a grinding noise, and the drawbridge lowered. On the opposite side, a pair of headlights glared out at them. They stood, frozen for a long moment, until there came the sound of a car door slamming, and someone walked out from behind the headlights, a neat, middle-aged man in slacks and a coat with brown hair and glasses.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a note of strain in his voice.

“I’m Michelle Bright. I own this castle.”

“Oh!” he said, then, much more warmly, offering his hand to shake, “I’m Justin Martin. I’m the late Baron Lumière’s solicitor. My family and I are minding the castle for now, but my daughter’s just hurt herself, and we’re driving her to the surgeon. Would you mind backing up?”

“Sorry,” said Roger, getting into the van and starting the engine again, “just a moment.”

“Our older daughter’s up in her room,” Justin said, waving vaguely behind himself. “She probably won’t bother you, though; she prefers to play by herself. You kids stay safe, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Michelle said angelically.

Roger reversed the van and curved out of the way. Justin went back to his car, shut the door and beeped, and drove off.

“See?” Michelle said to Charlotte. “She hurt herself. No serial killers at all.”

“That’s less reassuring than you think it is,” Charlotte said.

Rather than bother getting back into the van, they walked ahead of it as Roger nudged it forward and parked. The drawbridge led into a little courtyard, covered in loose gravel and tyre tracks; there were some feral-looking gardens on either side and the castle proper in front. The greenery was dark and foreboding so late in the day with the walls screening out the sun. There was another heavy wooden door in the castle, this one person-sized. Michelle walked up and rapped on it.

An eye slit opened, and a man peered out. He squinted at them, not at all friendly.

“I’m Michelle Bright. I’ve just inherited this castle.”

“And you’re telling me this because …?” he asked.

“Because I hoped it would be implied that I want you to let us in,” she explained.

He squinted even harder.

“Please open the door and let us in,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

He didn’t move for a moment, but then there came the grinding of metal against metal, and the door swung open, revealing a very ugly hunchbacked man with a single eyebrow running across his forehead. He wore a long green robe whose hems were dusty and frayed, and carried an oil lamp in one hand. He stood to one side and waggled his eyebrow at them, motioning them in.

There were no lights and the windows were completely inadequate, but Lucia and the boys had brought backpacks in from the van, and Roger handed out electric torches. The entrance hall was covered in dust and cobwebs, and full of antique junk that was probably actually valuable, things like suits of armour and oil paintings. Some of these were properly set up on plinths or hanging from a wall, but plenty of objects just lay haphazardly on the thick, plush carpet. Doors opened off to either side, and there were narrow staircases up ahead, one going up, the other down.

“Haven’t those people cleaned this place out at all?” Michelle asked disdainfully. “Haven’t you?”

“Will you?” he asked.

She just turned and stalked down the hall, leaving the others to follow. “I’m going to enjoy firing him,” she undertoned.

Charlotte hurried up to her, unfolding a map from one of their packs. “Uh, are we going anywhere in particular?”

“Inside. Away from that pest. I don’t know.”

“Then I think we should go to the kitchen,” Charlotte said. “Aaron has some ingredients, and I think it’d be nice to cook something a little classier than road trip snacks. We can settle in and have dinner.”

Michelle paused, letting the others catch up, picking their way around the paintings and loose fire pokers. She was actually pretty hungry, and Aaron was a better chef than most people realised. “That’s actually really sensible,” she said. “Okay, everyone, here’s the plan. We’re going to have dinner, sort out where everyone is sleeping, then think about looking around.”

“We also have board games,” Charlotte said.

Michelle gave her a look.

“I’m just saying,” she said defensively.

“I could murder an aristocrat for dinner,” Jason said.

“Me too,” Sue said. “Where are we going?”

Charlotte ran her finger along the map. It was photocopied off one hand-copied from two and a half centuries ago, originally drawn by someone with a shaky hand and a limited grasp of English phonics. They’d only bothered labelling about a fifth of the rooms. “This way. I think.”

“Should we ask Mr Martin’s daughter for help?” Jason asked. “If she’s been here awhile, she might know her way around.”

Sue brought her hands to her mouth. “Coo-ee!”

She’d halfway expected it to echo, but the dust and carpet absorbed her call. The others looked at her. Behind them, the hunchback grumbled something they couldn’t make out.

“What? You ask to find her, and suddenly I’m the weird one for doing something about it?”

“Suddenly,” Michelle said, drawing air quotes. “Come on. We run into her or we don’t.”