House Infernal by Edward Lee Read Free Page A

groaned to herself. I
barely got any sleep last night. She rubbed her eyes, then
briskly shook her blond head in hopes of rousing herself.
    "Honey, are you all right?" her mother's face hovered
between the seats again.
    And her father added, "To tell you the truth, you don't
look too good."
    "Thanks, Dad," " she said with a smirk. But she knew he
was right. "I tossed and turned all night. I had this weird
dream, and then I couldn't get back to sleep."
    "I'll stop at a convenience store so you can get some coffee. It'll perk you up. You don't want to fall asleep in the
middle of your interview with Father Driscoll."

    Her mother: "It's not an interview, Richard. She's already been accepted for the assignment. They can't very
well turn down a twenty-one-year-old senior with a fourpoint-oh average."
    Venetia groggily leaned up. "I know, but that's still a
good idea, Dad. I could use some coffee now that you
mention it."
    "Good. And I could use a chili dog." Richard looked to
his wife. "No offense, sweetheart, but your hash and eggs
didn't quite cut it this morning."
    Maxine Barlow smiled. "You get that chili dog, Richard.
Get several. Because they'll be following that ludicrous
pipe right up your ... you-know-what."
    Venetia winced. "You two really are a scream today."
    "Don't listen to your moronic, stick-in-the-mud father,
dear," her mother urged.
    "Hey. I admit I'm a stick in the mud, but I'm not moronic."
    "I'm sorry, dear. I meant imbecilic." Maxine turned back
to her daughter, concern in her eyes. "But what were you
saying before your thoroughly uncouth father interrupted?
Oh, yes-it was a nightmare that kept you awake."
    "Not a nightmare, really..."
    "Thank God," her father interrupted yet again. "Your
mother's breakfast was nightmare enough."
    Maxine's smile just kept growing. "I'Il put the leftovers
in the fireplace bellows ... and can you guess where I'll
stick that?" The robust woman fingered the small gold
cross around her neck and again addressed her daughter.
"So it wasn't a nightmare, then?"
    "No, Mom. It was just a weird dream. Nothing scary
about it-it just bothered me for some reason."
    "What happened in the dream?"
    Venetia let her thoughts slide back. She dreamt of
standing in a red-tinged darkness. All she could see before her were six boxes. Were they small coffins or vaults
of some sort?
    Then they vanished, and a voice from nowhere jolted her.
    It was a man's voice, and he'd spoken loudly and with obvious alarm: "This isn't a dream! You must understand!
You have to understand!"

    The exclamation arrived as a half shriek, with an undertone of dread. It was sourceless.
    The voice faded with these words: "Everything's opposite
here. You must understand ..."
    And that was it.
    But now that she'd replayed it in her mind, it seemed
weak, petty. A voice in a dream ... telling me it wasn't a
dream? Stupid ...
    "Can't really say why the dream kept me awake. Now
that I think of it, it was kind of stupid."
    "Oh, you mean like those soap operas your mother
watches all day," Richard Barlow remarked.
    "No, Richard, she means stupid like that ridiculous
wrestling you watch all day," Maxine cut in through gritted teeth. "Venetia? So we can actually have a practical
mother-to-daughter conversation, ignore everything that
comes out of your father's mouth. It's easy. I've been doing it for twenty years-"
    "To make up for what you haven't been doing for
twenty years." Richard chuckled and boorishly elbowed
his wife.
    What did I do to deserve this? Venetia wondered through
her fatigue.
    "The Prior House is simply a piece of Vatican-owned
property," Maxine began to explain. "It never functioned
as a monastic domicile-Father Driscoll said that in the
past the Church used it for important priests to take
respites, a vacation between pastoral assignments."
    Venetia tried to focus on the topic. When she'd done a
quick Internet search on St. John's Prior House, she'd
come up blank. "That's