House of Dark Shadows by Robert Liparulo

What room do you want? It’s going to be our room, isn’t it?”
    Xander stood tall, stretching his spine. Maybe sharing a room for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. As they got used to the house, and as they discovered—as they probably would— that it wasn’t haunted, Xander could move into a room of his own. He patted his brother on the chest. “All right. Yeah.
    Sure. As long as I can put my posters on the wall.”
    â€œNot Friday the 13th .”
    â€œNo scary ones,” Xander agreed. He gestured with his head. “Let’s look down here.”
    They moved farther away from the central staircase, past the murdered boy’s room.
    No, no, no, he thought, don’t start that . Simply, the boy’s room.
    He stopped at the door to what used to be a little girl’s room.
    He nudged it open. It creaked into a shadow-filled room. Faint light came through two dirty windows and thin curtains—Mom had called them sheers—that may have been white at one time. There was an old dresser and a bed with a canopy. Didn’t matter: Dad had said they would not sleep on any beds or bedding found here anyway. They were probably dirty and had bedbugs.
    David said, “Toria’s right: too pink. Let’s keep looking.”
    The next room was dingy, dusty, and dark. Nothing about it appealed to either boy.
    They moved to the next door which served the corner room on the front side of the house. Xander pushed it open, and they took a step in. This room had a chest of drawers against the far wall and a bed with a simple wooden headboard. Like the other room, two dirty windows let in meager light. The coolest part of the room was that one corner opened up into the tower, a five-sided room-within-a-room. Heavy curtains covered the tower windows, except for the center one, which— Someone was standing in front of it.
    Backlit by the window, the figure was nothing more than a black silhouette to Xander’s eyes. David had spotted the shape as well. His hand found Xander’s again and squeezed painfully. Xander realized both of them had stopped breathing. The only sound was the figure’s labored breath, deep and heavy. The thing shifted. Its head appeared to turn toward them. When it spoke, its voice was baritone and gravelly: “Come in, boys.”
    David screamed first. It was long and high pitched. Xander’s quick “Ahhh!” was almost completely lost in the sound of David’s fear. They turned together and knocked each other into the door frame. They were almost into the hall when they heard a familiar voice call their names. They were through the doorway and moving in separate directions, when they heard, “Boys! Boys! Come back!” and uncontrollable laughter.
    Xander stopped and looked back. David had stopped as well, halfway through the doorway at the end of the hall.
    The boy’s eyes were saucers of shock.
    From the room: “Xander! David!”
    They scowled at each other. Xander took a cautious step toward the door.
    Dad stepped into the hallway between them. He looked at Xander, then at David. He said, “Sorry. Really.” He stifled a laugh.
    David, generally calm, cool, and collected, yelled at the top of his lungs, “That’s not funny!”
    Dad walked toward him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He hugged his youngest son, who resisted, then gave in. He looked back at Xander with a guilty smile.
    Xander shook his head and pointed at David. “What he said.”
    Dad nodded. “You guys have been whispering about this house since we talked to the real estate woman. I couldn’t resist.”
    The muscles in Xander’s face felt tight. He said, “You know what they say about payback.”
    Dad snickered. He said, “My boys, my brave young men.”
    Still pressed against him, David punched his father in the side.
    Dad let out an exaggerated