The Betrayal by R.L. Stine Page B

home through the silent, deserted commons, his eyes held straight ahead. The fire faded in his mind, faded to dark, shifting images, pictures of Benjamin and Matthew Fier.
    His fury grew with every step.
    Betrayed.
    They betrayed me and stole my life.
    â€œWilliam?” A voice startled him at his front door. It took him a while to erase the hated images of the Fier brothers and focus on the dark figure in his doorway.
    â€œMary Halsey!” he whispered.
    She held the baby up to him, wrapped tightly in a wool blanket. “Take the baby, William. Take George.”“No.” William raised his hands as if to fend the baby off.
    â€œHe is your only family now,” Mary Halsey insisted, thrusting the baby forward. “Take him. Hold him, William. He will help you get over your grief.”
    â€œNo,” William repeated. “Not now, Mary Halsey. There is something I must do first.”
    He startled her by pushing past her and entering his house, closing the door hard behind him.
    The house was dark, nearly as dark as William’s thoughts. The fire had long since burned out.
    William moved quickly through the darkness to the back of the house. He pulled open the door that led to his special room, the tiny, secret room behind the wall, where even Susannah and Martha had never gone.
    The room where the black candles were always lighted.
    He stepped into the flickering orange light and pulled the door closed behind him.
    Whispering the ancient words of the purification ritual, William removed the scarlet hooded robe from its hiding place beneath a stack of wooden boxes and pulled it around him.
    William could feel the power of the robe even before he lowered the hood over his head.
    Bowing his head three times, William gazed around the circle of candlelight. Then he dropped to his knees on the dirt floor and began to chant the ancient words he knew so well.
    My wife and daughter were innocent,
William thought bitterly as he chanted.

    They were innocent.
    But I am not.
    They had no knowledge of these dark arts.
    But I have practiced them well.
    Whispering the ancient dark curses, he began to scratch signs of evil in the dirt floor. He was breathing hard now, his heart pounding in his chest.
    Under the satiny scarlet hood he glared, unblinking, at the ancient symbols he was scratching in the dirt. A grim smile formed on his trembling lips.
    Innocence died today,
William Goode thought as he summoned the spirits of evil he had summoned so many times before.
    Innocence died today. But my hatred will live for generations.
    The Fiers shall not escape me.
    Wherever they flee, I will be there.
    My family ’s screams shall become the Fiers’ tortured screams.
    The fire that burned today will not be quenched—until revenge is mine, and the Fiers burn forever in the fire of my curse!

Village of Shadyside
1900

    â€œThat’s how it began. That’s how it all began more than two hundred years ago,” Nora Goode said.
    Staring into the yellow candle glow, she set down her pen. Her slender hand ached from writing.
    How long have I been here? she wondered, allowing her eyes to trail down the melting wax on the side of the candle.
    How long have I been seated at this narrow table, writing the story of my ancestors?
    The candle flickered, reminding her of the fire. Once again she saw the burning mansion. Once again she heard the anguished screams of her loved ones trapped inside the blaze.
    How did I escape? Nora wondered, staring intently into the flame.

    I don’t remember.
    How did I get here?
    Someone brought me here. Someone found me. Someone found me on the lawn, staring into the fire, watching the mansion burn.
    Someone helped me away from there and brought me to this room.
    And now I must write it all down. I must tell the whole story. I must explain about the two families and the curse that has followed us through the decades.
    Nora picked up the pen. With a trembling hand she