Demondoor

                “So? What do you think?”
         
                Todd shielded his eyes from the sun with his left hand and looked up at the 1920’s Victorian house. He took in the raggedy clapboard siding that covered all three stories, the rotting window panes, the overgrown bushes and vines that choked the front porch. He kicked a little clump of dead grass at the edge of what passed for the front yard.
         
                “I think it’s a piece of shit,” he said, finally.
         
                Craig rolled his eyes and walked to the front door, nearly tripping over the broken bottom step of the porch. Todd watched from the sidewalk as Craig fumbled with the key to the door. He had a little trouble with the lock, and once it turned he still had to use his shoulder to force the door from its warped frame.
         
                Craig looked back at Todd with a ‘Well, are you coming?’ look. Todd sighed and went in to take a look at his new home.

         It was a few minutes before Todd’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the foyer. Despite the ninety degree heat outside, the house was cold. The floorboards creaked as he walked past the staircase down the hall towards the kitchen. Craig was already in there, playing with the long dead sink faucets, opening cabinet doors that screamed against the effort.
         
                “Craig? Are you serious? You mean for us to live here?”
         
                Craig turned to face his partner of seven years, not noticing the incredulity that colored Todd’s voice and face.
         
                “It’ll be great!” he beamed. “We’ll renovate, decorate. You’ve got the eye for that stuff, I’ll leave you to that. The basement can be finished to make a wine cellar and library. And this neighborhood is so quiet; it’s perfect for you to write.”
         
                Craig was so excited about the old house; it was hard for Todd to be too bitter about it. Todd looked around, trying to see what Craig saw. The place did have good bones, he’d give it that. Walking into the living room, he saw where a few windows could be put in, a couple of walls knocked down. The front dining room had enough space to have a wet bar installed. He decided right away that a custom liquor cabinet would be first priority.
         
                “Come see the upstairs,” Craig said. He grabbed Todd’s hand and led him up the rickety stairs. The banister was loose.
         
                “You know,” Todd said, “this whole damn thing is going to have to come down.” As he spoke, the entire staircase shuddered under their weight.
         
                “I know. I’m thinking it should be the first thing to replace.”
         
                “It’s definitely going to be a lot of work.”
         
                “I know.”
         
                “And a lot of money.”
         
                “Not more than we can afford. And my dad thinks this could be a great investment.”
         
                “He would say that, since he lives just 5 miles away. Daddy’s boy.” Todd slapped Craig on the shoulder playfully.
         
                “It’ll be nice to live near him, don’t you think?” Craig asked. “He’s getting on in age, you know. He can’t travel the way he used to.”
         
                Todd shrugged. He fiddled with a loose piece of wallpaper at the second floor landing, peeked into one of the bedrooms, and was silently pleased at the size of it.
         
                “I suppose,” he said. “But what about your shop?”
         
                “I’ve already been looking at shop space downtown. This is an area in desperate need of a seller of rare books and antiquities.”
         
                Todd looked at Craig, and they both laughed.
         
                “Lofty title,” Todd said.
         
                “’Antique shop owner’ never really did it for me,” Craig said. Craig came from old money, spoiled by a rich father who had no problem supporting his son until the end of days, but his real passion was rare books and antiques. Their vacations took them around the world, and Craig invariably came home with a new piece for his collection and a new contact for his business.
         
                “Now, that’s a great place for the gargoyle head from Prague.”
         
                Todd headed to the spot he was talking about, at the end of the hall under a window.
         
                “An occasional table right here, with the head right on top. And a nice burgundy paint in this hallway.”
         
                “I was thinking blue,” Craig said.
         
                “Think again,” Todd smirked.
         
                He stepped into the master bedroom next to the future home of the gargoyle head.
         
                Craig said, “I was thinking this should be the bedroom. The four post bed would fit nicely in here. We’d have room for a little sitting area.”
         
                “You’re right,” Todd said. He inspected the closet in the master bedroom, which was only storing cobwebs and mouse turds. “I can see myself having some fun with this place. And I’ve been having a hard time writing in the city – maybe a move will get the juices flowing again.”
         
                Craig smiled.
         
                “But if you want me to agree to this, you need to give me carte blanche.”
         
                Craig opened his arms in mock surrender. “I already told you, whatever you want done, we’ll do it.”
         
                Todd looked around. “Windows have to be replaced.”
         
                “Um hmm.”
         
                “Floors need refinishing.”
         
                “Yeah.”
         
                “We’ll need to rewire, ‘cause I really don’t like these fixtures where they are.”
         
                Todd smiled and shrugged, hoping to remain excited enough to live through a whole house renovation.
         
                “Home sweet home.”





         Craig went to the house the next day, alone. He went down to the basement, not bothering to turn on the light. There was a small storage room in the corner of the basement, a makeshift room built from old beams and sheets of plywood that didn’t quite reach to the ceiling. The door was a flimsy sheet of wood held in place by rusty hinges and an old padlock.
         
                He unlocked the door, and it swung inside with a bang, startling him. What little light leaked in through the grimy basement windows didn’t reveal much, but when he focused his eyes on the center of the room, he saw the well cover. He stepped inside.
         
                Craig was hit with a sudden burst of cold air, and he felt hands on his shoulders, trying to push him out. But the hands were weak, and he swatted them away.
         
                “Let me alone, Keeper,” he said. “You know who I am.”
         
                The shadows in the room contorted, revealing the shape of the wraith in the darkness, a featureless black form shuddering like an old naked man. A hoarse whine whispered in his head.
         
                “Yes… You’re the Holbrook, come to open the demondoor… too early!”
         
                Again, Craig was knocked back by stunningly cold air and felt the hands, this time around his throat. Again, he pushed the hands away.
         
                “I found a Trueblood!”
         
                The Keeper slinked into a corner, and Craig stepped onto the wooden well cover. He sprinkled salt and sulfur from a small bottle in a circle around the well.
         
                “Hell will open early for a Trueblood…” the wraith sang. “The Holbrook has a Trueblood!” It moved into Craig’s field of vision, bobbing and weaving like a drunken boxer. “When can we have it?”
         
                “He’ll be here in fourteen days. Within that time I'll have many people in and out of here, fixing this place up. They'd better not know you're here.”
         
                Craig left the room, and locked it up. He could hear the Keeper singing: “A Trueblood, a Trueblood, Hell will open early for a Trueblood…”
         
                He couldn’t help but smile.