No Light in August: Tales From Carcosa & the Borderland (Digital Horror Fiction Author Collection) by Digital Fiction

let go, she would
drift away.
     
    Seen from
outside, the house was unremarkable. It fit with the direction the night was
taking. Just a simple brownstone on an average street, the name of which I
didn’t catch.
    I couldn’t
orientate myself. None of the familiar landmarks of the city were visible, and
we didn’t pass any on our way there. The route she took me on wound through
alleys and backstreets, empty save for the occasional drunk or beggar asleep
here and there. They never stirred as we passed, despite the echo of our
footsteps ringing from the dripping walls.
    All the
time we walked, she never took the mask off or bothered to speak to me. Asking
her about the place seemed pointless, and I got the impression that if I did,
her answer would be silence.
    Climbing
the steps, she lifted an antique-looking brass knocker and tapped it twice.
“When we’re inside, they’ll lock the door behind us. House rules,” she
explained without turning.
    “Then how
do we get out?” “There’s only the one way.”
    Unease
crept into my stomach, coupled with a dose of rationality. Who is she? I
didn’t have a name or a face, and I wasn’t sure if Linda or anyone at the party
was in much of a state to notice if I left with her or not. What was behind the
door?
    She
squeezed my hand, almost as if she could feel something transmitted from me
through our shared grip. I conceded it was possible she could; it was that kind
of night. Yet it was nothing of the sort.
    The door
opened, letting faint purplish light spill out across us. A small man with a
rattish face peered at us through the crack. The light mixed with a haze of
smoke, backlighting the little man so he looked like an imp.
    “Cassie,”
he said in something that was almost a hiss, but was more probably spoken
through a mind-fog of drugs.
    The way he
stood and swayed slightly suggested as much, but I couldn’t catch the familiar
smells from inside — not the oily heaviness of hash or the rank sweat of
over-pilled bodies. Instead, what wafted out was sweet, almost spicy and tangy.
It caught in the back of my throat and almost kicked me in the head.
    “Fuck,” I
coughed. The sound drew his eye. “Who’s your friend?”
    “Someone I
wanted to bring.” She didn’t bother giving my name. “House rules say one guest
is allowed.”
    “They do,”
he said, and I felt rather than saw him peering at me. “He looks an interesting
    sort.”
    He stepped
back, pulling the door open as he did. Cassie gripped my hand and pulled me
    inside.
She glanced over her shoulder at me.
    I caught
reflected streetlight in her eyes, the suggestion of a smile and something else
I didn’t recognize. Maybe fear or mania, but I doubt it now. I think it was
glee — so childlike, and not something I saw in adults, which made it hard to
be sure when I saw it in her. Clarity only came with hindsight, though I’m
still not sure how much of what I saw in the House was real and what was
illusion.
    Could’ve
been all of it. Could’ve been none of it. I’ve yet to decide which one is more
comforting.
     
    A high,
narrow hall led inside from the door. The walls were unpainted, but looked
stained from years of smoke. Other marks were there, which were hard to make
out in the light. I saw a spatter of what could’ve been blood or maybe an old
spray of red wine from a long-ago party.
    There were
openings without doors. One at the end of the hall was the source of most of
the smoke. I caught glimpses of people through it, but only impressions of
shadows.
    Tightly
coiled dub with overwhelming bass lines and what sounded like dozens of
reverberating drum patterns pulsed from the room. Clipped vocal samples were
woven into it, almost like screams from outside in the street.
    Cassie took
me through one opening into another room, and I started to realize the House
was bigger on the inside. The angles and shape of the rooms I glimpsed didn’t
match what I had seen from the outside.
    My head
wasn’t