Eric Ross is on the run from a mysterious past with his two daughters in tow.
We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from gothic horror debut The Spite House by Johnny Compton, publishing with Nightfire on February 7, 2023.
Eric Ross is on the run from a mysterious past with his two daughters in tow. Having left his wife, his house, his whole life behind in Maryland, he’s desperate for money—it’s not easy to find steady, safe work when you can’t provide references, you can’t stay in one place for long, and you’re paranoid that your past is creeping back up on you.
When he comes across the strange ad for the Masson House in Degener, Texas, Eric thinks they may have finally caught a lucky break. The Masson property, notorious for being one of the most haunted places in Texas, needs a caretaker of sorts. The owner is looking for proof of paranormal activity. All they need to do is stay in the house and keep a detailed record of everything that happens there. Provided the house’s horrors don’t drive them all mad, like the caretakers before them.
The job calls to Eric, not just because there’s a huge payout if they can make it through, but because he wants to explore the secrets of the spite house. If it is indeed haunted, maybe it’ll help him understand the uncanny power that clings to his family, driving them from town to town, making them afraid to stop running.
It surprised him that there was no gate or guard in place to keep out trespassers. He followed the directions Dana gave him yesterday after retracing his path back from the site of the spite house to the sign that welcomed people to Degener. From there he headed north, toward the even more scenic and less densely populated part of town. After passing a couple of ranches, the road rounded into a large hollow where a monstrous mansion stood in the middle of several lush acres.
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The Spite House
“Wow, it’s like a castle,” Stacy said. Eric jumped a little at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t realized she had woken up.
“Yeah, it is,” Dess said to her sister.
Eunice Houghton’s estate was almost overstuffed with natural niceties and man-made outdoor amenities. After turning onto a long cobblestone driveway that looked too nice to be driven on, Eric passed large trees that must have been hundreds of years old. There were multiple benches and picnic tables, isolated gardens, two small ponds (both of which featured a walkway leading to an island gazebo), an atrium, and an encompassing trail that looked to be made of the same synthetic material Dess would run on at her track meets.
The trail created an informal border that marked the end of the more “civilized” section of the Houghton Estate. Beyond it on three sides lay the wilds. Clustered trees, tall grasses, small hills, and the sounds of the animals and insects that occupied that land. Eric did not know where Miss Houghton’s property truly ended, but believed you could lose yourself for at least half a day finding your way out of the surrounding woods after walking in.
He tried to imagine owning even a tenth of this property. The privacy it could afford them. He imagined that people who lived in such places did so specifically to have some space, enjoy some seclusion.
A black-haired woman in a dress suit stood a few feet from the steps leading to the mansion’s front entrance. He parked the car several feet away from her, and by the time he and the girls walked close enough to be within comfortable speaking distance, the first woman was joined by a black woman dressed more like she was about to run a few errands. The first woman extended her hand and said, “Welcome, Mr. Ross. I’m Dana. We spoke yesterday. This is Lafonda, my colleague.”
Eric shook hands and introduced his daughters. “This is Odessa, and this is Stacy.”
Lafonda said, “Well, young ladies, it’s my pleasure to meet you. You’re going to hang out with me for a bit while your dad talks to my boss, if that’s cool.”
“Sounds good,” Dess said.
“Do you live here?” Stacy said.
“I do,” Lafonda said. “Come on. I’ll show you around some.”
Eric and his girls followed Dana and Lafonda into the house, first passing through a foyer that was larger than many of the motel rooms they’d stayed in, then parting ways at the crest in the marbled floor of the main hall. Lafonda said to Eric, “If you need me, have Miss Eunice page me,” then took the girls with her to the right, toward what appeared to be a huge sunroom.
Dana said, “This way, please, she’s waiting for you in her office,” then escorted him up the hall’s staircase, which reminded Eric of the stairs in the film Titanic. Midway up the stairs he started to feel dizzy. This place was too large to be thought of as anyone’s home. The house back in Maryland— which Tab had convinced him was the one, even though he’d been a little unsure due to its price tag—had been more than enough for his family. Four bedrooms, a decent little office, a dining room and breakfast nook, a den and living room. Very nice, and it could fit in Eunice Houghton’s home at least ten times over.
“You live here, too?” he said to Dana, staring up at the ceiling that seemed closer to the clouds than the dirt.
“No, my husband and I live closer to the town proper,” Dana said. “Puts me closer to the plant and campus for work. I go in just about every day so Eunice doesn’t have to. I’m presuming you’ve done some homework about her.”
“What makes you think that?” he said, still trying to take in the man sion’s sprawling three stories from a vantage point that barely let him pro cess one.
“You sounded smart on the phone. Smart people do homework.”
He looked at her, tried to gauge whether this was a continuation of the prescreening. “I did a little.”
“Good.” At the top of the stairs they went down the left hallway, and to Eric the mansion increasingly became more of a museum. The halls were wide enough to bring a tour group through, eleven or twelve feet tall, he couldn’t quite tell, and lined with impressive art pieces. Paintings primarily, with a few engravings and large photographs—some portraits, some candids—spread throughout. One at the end of the hall captured a woman with a smile big enough for two. She looked to be about a second away from laughing, and Eric almost expected her to come alive within the frame and do just that.
“Right here,” Dana said, stopping in front of a closed door. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m pulling for you. The others that have come through, I haven’t been a fan. You? You’re not claiming to be some amateur expert in an unscientific field. At least, I don’t think so. You’ve got that going for you.”
“So don’t be an expert,” he said. “Got it.”
Dana’s smile changed, like she might be impressed but also a bit wary. “I’m not giving you pointers, just pointing something out. There’s a difference.”
“I agree.”
“Just be yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The smile shifted again, in which direction he couldn’t tell. You’re getting cute, he thought. Don‘t blow this before you even get to it, far God’s sake.
Dana opened the door, brought him in, introduced him to Eunice. The older woman got up from her desk, and the thing that struck Eric most about her was her posture. She was in no way bent or stooped, and didn’t appear to be trying hard—if at all—to stand so erect.
“Mr. Ross, please have a seat,” Eunice said.
Dana told him, “Good luck,” then left him alone with the rich woman who owned a strange house she believed to be haunted, and lived in a mansion that would make kings envious. His girls were elsewhere in this house, in the care of someone he’d just met. It occurred to him that all of this should have made him more anxious or suspicious, but the past year and a half had numbed him somewhat. The immensity of the manor was something else, something new, but the rest of it, the need to have some measure of faith in strangers if he had any chance of earning some money, finding some shelter, he’d grown accustomed to that.
Eunice’s gray eyes were closer to the color of steel than storms. She had them open wide, like she was looking for more of him than was there. “I hope you found us without any trouble.”
“I did,” he said.
“Good. Unfortunately, that’s all the small talk I have for you. It’s been quite the day, and I think I’ve used up about all the charm I can muster. I hope you understand.”
“That’s fine by me.”
“Good. Good. Then, to begin with, I must ask what’s brought you to where you are? Not the physical space you’re in, but the general condition of your life. My first impression of you, based on appearances, is that you don’t come across as a neglectful or irresponsible man. But here you are, living out of a motel and desperate for stable employment. That’s questionable enough on its own, but with one school-aged child and another who’s barely an adult… How on earth did you get here?”
Despite saying he was fine with skipping small talk, Eric had counted on using it to warm Eunice up to him. Make it evident that he was a decent, reliable person, regardless of his circumstances. Then, he figured, he’d have some leeway to be vague about what they had left behind and why. Now a small lie might be in order. He took a breath, not wanting to get started before his brain had enough of a head start to keep him from stammering.
“Back home, back in Philadelphia, there was a situation. Something to do with family. We had to get away. Nothing criminal, but, well, there were elements involved that didn’t have my kids’ best interest at heart. There were dangers involved in staying home. I wish I could tell you more—”
“You could.”
“I really can’t. You said I don’t look irresponsible. I can assure you it would be extremely irresponsible of me to say more than I’m saying. For the sake of my daughters.”
Eunice gave a perfunctory nod. “Well, look at it from my perspective, Mr. Ross. I’m going to be giving someone a place to stay and money to live there. I need to know they’re not some fugitive from justice. I need to know they won’t be bringing anything unsavory to my property. In short, I need to know this is someone I can rely on. If you can’t tell me anything of significance about where you’re from and why you’re apparently on the run, I can’t imagine what you could tell me to make me trust you.”
Before he could second-guess himself, Eric said, “I can tell you about something I haven’t shared with anyone else in years. And it’s relevant to the job, too. I never even told my wife—ex-wife—about this, or told my kids. If l trusted you with that, would it help you trust me a little?”
“Relevant to the job? Sounds like you’re going to tell me a ghost story, Mr. Ross.”
“I don’t know what to call it, exactly. But it’s a real thing that happened to me, I promise you that.”
Eunice sat back. She already looked unimpressed, and Eric felt fear fluttering in his chest, expecting her to cut the interview short and send him on his way, having wasted his chance, wasted a day he could have spent seeking real work. Instead she raised a hand that invited him to speak.
“My grandparents had a house in Odessa, Texas,” he said. “I visited a lot when I was a kid, over holidays and a few summers. I loved that house, and I’m actually hoping to buy it back someday if l can get my money right. Not just for nostalgia’s sake. There’s something there, maybe, that can give me some answers I’m looking for. At least, I hope. I’m sorry, let me just get to it.
“I’d heard at first, growing up, that my grandfather built that house. That wasn’t the whole truth. His parents had bought it and moved in when he was still a teenager. He rebuilt it after it burned down when he was maybe about twenty or so, and still living there, along with his new wife, my grandmother, Nelle. This would’ve been in the early fifties, and uh, you know, there were incidents back then. Not that there aren’t anymore, but you know.”
“I do. Unfortunately, I do,” Eunice said.
“So, they lived south of the tracks, the black side of town, but that didn’t make them safe there. I never got the full story behind how the house burned. I never knew about the fire at all until I was twelve years old, visiting them one summer. I used to sleep in the back-corner room, and I started having these episodes where I’d wake up in the dead of night and I’d smell smoke, and I’d hear flames eating up the wood. The first time it happened I tried to tell myself it was a dream, but I was never one of those people who could tell they were dreaming, so the fact that I was even thinking of that let me know I was awake. And I knew I needed to get up and get everybody else up outside because the house was on fire. But I didn’t want to move because it felt like there was somebody else in the room with me.”
He took a deep breath, remembering. “That first time it happened, the moonlight was bright enough that I should’ve been able to see somebody there with me but I couldn’t. I could sense them, though. Sense their fear. I could put two and two together and tell they were frantic because of the fire, even though I didn’t hear them say anything. Then I felt this incredible rush of anger that I knew came from the other person. It was a hundred times more intense than the fire. It was like the harshest, most blinding light imaginable paired with the loudest scream ever heard. I couldn’t see or hear anything past that anger for what felt like forever. Then it was all gone, and I was by myself again, wondering what the hell just happened. It’s not easy, going through something like that…”
“I agree,” Eunice said. She sounded somewhat distant, but not uninterested.
“So, that first time it happened, I stayed awake for the whole night, too scared to move to even save myself. When enough of the day came to chase it all away, I finally got up and walked around the house to be sure nothing had burned up. Everything was fine. I figured my imagination had gotten the best of me and I just kept it to myself. A couple of days went by before it happened again. Then it happened a third time a couple days after that and by then I was so tired I almost fell asleep at the dinner table, and that’s when my grandma made me tell her what was wrong. I told her about it, but I said it was a dream even though I knew it wasn’t one. She looked at my grandfather and said, ‘You want to tell him?’ He pulled me aside, told me about the fire, and how he’d been in that back-corner room when it started. Him and Grandma had argued that night, and she and my great-grandparents all agreed he should sleep off his anger in there.
“He didn’t say what they fought about, but apparently he had a rep for getting into it with some of the people north of the tracks. Sometimes he had a response for when they threw a slur at him. They were used to black and brown people just keeping quiet, never standing up or pushing back. That wasn’t his nature. I’ve got a hunch that it was all related. The fight with my grandmother, his confrontations on the northside, the fire. Maybe Grandma had been telling him he needed to be more cautious, think of everybody else in the house before he got into it with somebody north of the tracks who might take things too far. Not knowing that some of them were already on their way to take it too far.
“Anyway, my grandfather said he never remembered making it out of that room. He remembered being surrounded by flames and choking on smoke and then he must have passed out. The next thing he knew he was in a hospital bed. No one ever told him how he got out. His mom and pops and my grandma just said it was a miracle. God had delivered him. Didn’t even have a mark on him. And he was on his feet and better than ever sooner than expected. The rest of them wanted to move, find some other town, but Grandpa said hell no. They stayed with some friends while he got to work rebuilding the place. His dad was a little too worn down to be much help, but they had some cousins and neighbors who pitched in some. A little later when I asked around town about it, some of the old-timers would tell me it was mostly my grandfather’s work. One of them said that he worked like a man possessed. They wouldn’t tell me much else, except for one other big thing. Nobody north of the tracks ever so much as side-eyed him or the family again. He got some kind of rep after all of that, I guess. And with all respect to my own pops, that story solidified my grandfather as my hero.
“But it didn’t explain what had happened to me in that room. That’s why I don’t call it a ghost story. Like I said, I don’t know what to call it. I’ve looked up theories over the years and the only one that kind of makes sense to me is that sometimes the past has sort of an echo that catches up to the present. It’s not a standardized thing, it doesn’t happen on specific anniversaries or anything like that. It’s random, and sometimes people are there to see it or hear it, and sometimes not. Anyway, that’s my experience, Miss Houghton. You’re the first person I’ve ever told that story to.”
Eunice said, “I appreciate you sharing that with me, Mr. Ross. It did indeed help. I have one follow-up question, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
“You said you smelled the smoke and heard flames. Did you feel the fire, too? I’m just wondering.”
A short laugh hopped from his throat, and Eric said, “No, actually. It was cold as hell. Cold as I’ve ever been, and I’ve lived up north, as I told you. I’ve been through some ugly winters, but that room in West Texas, of all places, in the summer, was the coldest place I’ve ever been in. It was like being on the dark side of the moon or something.”
Eunice looked somewhat startled at that, and Eric thought he saw something close to excitement come to the front of her eyes. Maybe even a little smile threatening to cross her face.
“Well then, Mr. Ross, my next question is do you have time now to do a walk-through of the house you’ll be staying in.”
“Are you offering me the job?”
“I’d like you to take a look inside the house first,” she said, “be sure you know what you’re literally getting into. Then, if you’re still agreeable to it, yes, I’m offering you the position.”
“I… I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you. This means so much. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Take a look at the house first. I’ll have Dana take you. Lafonda and I will keep your girls company. Lafonda’s a medical professional. And chef, and physical therapist, and maybe a superhero when I’m not around. Point being she’s great at taking care of people. She and I will take the girls on a little shopping trip downtown, with your approval. I’m presuming you-all didn’t bring any clothes to stay here overnight. Here in this house, I mean. Not the other one. We’ll need a day to get that properly arranged for you.”
“Um, you’re right. We didn’t think to bring clothes. Sorry, we weren’t expecting to get this invitation.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d extend it,” Eunice said. “But you’ve made an impression. If nothing else, I believe you’re sincere. You’re here to earn money, not just get it. Even if you change your mind after the walk-through, the offer to stay tonight stands. You came this far, you shouldn’t have to drive back today.”
“I appreciate that,” Eric said. “So you’re going with Lafonda? Just me and Dana in the spite house?”
Eunice came half an inch closer to smiling. “Mr. Ross, if l was comfortable at all with being in that house, I’d stay there myself instead of paying someone to do it for me.”
He was still a little light-headed from the buzz of knowing the job—the money—was there if he said yes to it. Nonetheless, he’d been sharp enough to see the red flag that Eunice just waved in front of him.
“Is it dangerous?” he said. “I’m bringing my girls in there with me. I should know if it’s even a little—”
“It’s fine,” Eunice said. “It just takes a certain amount of energy to deal with it. As spry as I feel some days, I’m under no delusion about my age and what I can take.”
“Understandable,” he said, hoping his skepticism hadn’t crept into his tone. “I guess, now that I’m really going to be doing this, I’m starting to wonder why nobody else worked out for you. I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve tried this, is it?”
“You’re right, it’s not. But think of the story you just told me. Imagine the average person experiencing that. Some professed ‘ghost hunter’ who’s expecting to hear a few innocuous noises in the night that they’ll amplify later, when they’re adding shadows and editing their footage to make it seem like there was something there when there really wasn’t. That’s what the people who I’ve hired before went in expecting, and when they encounter something even close to what you did, they panic. They don’t analyze whether it’s an echo or a spirit or anything. They run away. I’ve had so-called experts and researchers leave after the first shadow they thought they saw or first whisper they thought they heard. I’ve had others stay a day or two longer, but they all leave far too early to give me anything solid. I’m of the belief now that you won’t. And if you’re worried about your girls, we can discuss those details later. Suffice to say, they’ll always be welcome in my house if you’re comfortable with that. Although I’m confident it won’t come to that. I know something is in that house, but I don’t have any reason to believe it’s hostile.”
Her assurance sounded rehearsed to him, but he didn’t think that necessarily made it disingenuous. He’d been on the other side of the desk in job interviews before and he’d had prepared statements on those occasions. They hadn’t been half-truths just because they’d been written or practiced. He should give Eunice the same benefit of the doubt.
Except he sensed she was keeping something from him. To be fair, he was keeping things from her as well, but being fair wasn’t close to a priority for him. There was an imbalance of power here as it was. She could move on to another candidate, even if they were less ideal than he was, far more easily than he could move on to the next eccentric millionaire willing to part with a small fortune. That made this opportunity too good to let a little suspicion obstruct his path to it. And he’d kept Dess and Stacy safe so far, hadn’t he? Kept them protected from real-world threats. He could do the same when it came to otherworldly ones, especially considering he had recent reason to believe that the dead meant no harm, irrespective of his doubts about that.
“Well then,” he said, “as long as the walls don’t start bleeding or something on this first visit, I’m letting you know now that I accept.”
Eunice said, “Considering nothing like that’s happened yet, if it does now then I’m going to think it was in response to you. And if that’s the case, I’ll be more than happy to increase my offer enough to change a ‘no’ to a ‘yes.”‘
Excerpted from The Spite House, copyright © 2022 by Johnny Compton.
