Spooks & Specters: A San DeLain Short Story Collection

Chapter One

AUSTIN STARED at his old, battered locker. It was just one in a long string of them that lined the walls of his prep school, each one bearing the scars of years of use. He was always the first one in and the first one out, a routine he’d established early on.

Today, however, he was still there thanks to his stupid locker giving him fits. He tensed as he tried to work his combination lock. The shiny metal numbers glinted in the fluorescent light as he spun the dial, his brow furrowed in frustration.

Why wouldn’t the stupid thing open? He was running out of time, dammit. He was still fiddling with his locker combination when he heard the booming laughter of Travis and his cronies.

Austin had his reasons for getting out of there fast, and one of the main reasons was currently bearing down on him. Travis Doover, son of WB “Boss”

Doover, the owner of The Doover Company, was nothing but a bully and the bane of Austin’s existence. From the day they’d started preschool, Travis had had it out for him, and Austin had no idea why.

The scent of sweat and stale gym socks filled Austin’s nose, a familiar smell in this locker room. As Travis and his buddies approached, the strong scent of expensive cologne and testosterone wafted towards him.

The echoes of their heavy steps reverberated like a warning drum in the tiled hallway. Austin’s hands shook, going clammy as his heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Austin glanced over his shoulder as they entered, and Travis’s eyes locked on him like a predator stalking its prey.

A malicious grin slowly twisted his lips as he took menacing steps towards Austin. “What’s up, Austin? You look confused, but it’s you, so that’s no surprise. Your locker giving you trouble? Need some help?”

Austin wanted to cry. He should have just left.

“Hey, asshole, I asked you a question.”

“Leave him alone, Trav,”

called one of the other boys half-heartedly.

Travis ignored him, stepping closer to Austin. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

he jeered, reaching down to flick at Austin’s ear.

Austin flinched, but he bit his tongue to avoid escalating the situation.

As he finally managed to unlock his locker, relief and dread washed over him. Relief that he got it unlocked, and dread because how was he going to get out of here? Indifference sure wasn’t working. And all obedience got him was more trouble.

Austin’s mouth was dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper as he nervously licked his lips. He grabbed his bag and turned, trying to keep his voice steady. “I just want to leave, Travis.”

“Eager to run away, huh? Just like a little coward,”

Travis sneered, tossing his sweat-soaked towel in Austin’s direction.

The towel hit him in the face, then fell onto the bench beside him. He stared at it, his stomach churning with the familiar cocktail of helplessness and dread as Travis pressed closer, his gang of thugs forming a tight circle around Austin.

“Just leave me alone, Travis,”

Austin muttered, feeling the cold metal of the locker against his back as he slowly edged away.

“Oh, come on, we’re just having some fun,”

Travis said mockingly before suddenly shoving Austin against the lockers with a thud that rang sharply through the room.

The impact winded Austin, but it also sparked something inside him—a weary frustration, a tired anger. He straightened, pushing back slightly. “I’m not your punching bag,”

he said firmly.

Travis laughed off the defiance. “Oh? What are you going to do about it?”

Austin slipped by Travis, and the group parted to let him go. Just as he walked past, Travis pushed him from behind, sending him sprawling across the floor. Really, he should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The laughter that erupted from some of the boys stung almost as much as the fall. Yet Austin picked himself up quickly, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

With as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the exit without a word. As he walked away, he heard Travis call out another mocking insult, but it was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Before more could be said or done, Coach Warner’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. “What’s going on here?”

Travis backed away instantly, his demeanor changing as he put on an innocent front. “Nothing, Coach. Just messing around.”

Coach Warner eyed them skeptically but motioned with his head towards the exit. “Get moving. Practice is over.”

As the group dissipated, Coach Warner placed a firm hand on Austin’s shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,”

Austin replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Okay.”

Coach shrugged as he walked back to his office.

No, he was not good. Austin’s walk turned into a run as soon as he left the building. The hot afternoon air slapped him in the face, making it hard to breathe. His emotions stormed inside him.

He honestly didn’t understand why Travis had such a hard-on for him. They both came from money, and they both came from well-established families. He was Austin Dean Hathaway Berkshire, for crying out loud. The Hathaway Berkshire family owned Wayshire Real Estate Group.

The main difference between him and Travis, though, was that Austin had dirty laundry that had been plastered all over the gossip columns when he was just a kid.

Around age eight, his mom crashed her car and killed herself. It was only later that he found out she had been dead drunk. Not long after her death, his dad started getting physically abusive. But then the monster under Austin’s bed showed up and dear old daddy ended up in a lunatic asylum.

Yep, he had a monster under his bed.

Austin was now being raised by his grandparents, who were just as cold and formal as Austin’s parents had been. His best friend at the grand old age of thirteen was some thing under his bed.

When he reached his home, Austin didn’t head straight inside as usual. Instead, he circled around back to the private little garden his mom used to be so fond of. He sat on one of the benches, trying to collect himself. This couldn’t go on. Something had to change, but despair nibbled at any solution that came to mind.

As he sat there struggling with his thoughts and feelings, a shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see Ms. Kinnon, the cook, standing there with a concerned look on her face.

“Austin, are you all right? You seem troubled,”

she asked gently.

Austin hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’m fine... just tired,”

he lied unconvincingly.

How did she even know he was out there? Usually she was in the kitchen, her domain. Austin glanced at the back of his grandparents’ house.

Oh, right. The whole back of the house was nothing but windows. She probably saw him walk by. At least somebody in this house cared enough to ask him if he was okay.

Austin glanced up at their cook.

Ms. Kinnon didn’t appear fooled. She sat down beside him, her expression kind yet serious. “You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you.”

For a moment, Austin considered opening up about everything—the bullying, the helplessness he felt—but then he shook his head and forced a smile. Because seriously? What could she do?

She was just the hired help, and he wasn’t being condescending when he said that. She was his family’s employee. One tiny step out of line and his grandparents would fire her in a heartbeat. He didn’t want to cost one of his favorite people her job. But more than that, he couldn’t lose her. She was one of the few people in this house who had ever shown him a shred of compassion.

Well, there was one other, but the monster under his bed was unpredictable. Austin had seen firsthand what could happen when his monster got pissed off. But Austin was also quickly getting to the point that he didn’t care what his monster did. He was tired of being bullied and everybody with any authority ignoring it because Austin’s dad was a crackpot.

Yes, that was just one of the more pleasant words his father had been called.

“Thanks, Ms. Kinnon, but I’m really okay.”

She studied him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly. “All right, dear, but remember my offer stands anytime. It really helps talking about it sometimes.”

Austin watched her go before finally standing up himself. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier than ever. Disgusted with everything, he left the garden and went to enter the house. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the eerie silence of the grand foyer. The house was always quiet, too quiet. His footsteps echoed off the marble floors as he made his way to his room.

His ascent up the staircase was slow. The mansion felt more like a mausoleum than a home. It was cold and sterile, just like his grandparents. Just like his parents.

That absolutely was not going to be Austin.

Paintings of stern ancestors gazed down at him, their eyes following his every move. He could almost see their disappointment. Well, fuck them too. His life wasn’t going to be dictated by their rigid rules. Austin was determined of that.

He knew… things. Things that went bump in the night. And he had plans. Oh yes, he had plans for his life, but unfortunately, he didn’t come into his inheritance until he was twenty-five.

God, that seemed like a long way off.

He paused at his bedroom door, hand resting on the cool metal of the handle for a moment. Once inside, he closed the door with a soft click that seemed to echo through the silent house. He leaned against it, allowing himself a moment to just breathe.

The space was tidy to an almost obsessive degree—every book aligned perfectly on the shelves, every piece of clothing folded meticulously in the drawers. His grandparents insisted on that, but for crying out loud, he was a teenager. What teenager had a tidy bedroom? Well, he did. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that brewed within him.

He threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. His mind raced with thoughts of Travis, the bullying, his dad’s madness… and the monster. The monster that no one else knew about—no one but him. It all felt like too much to bear alone.

As darkness fell outside, Austin’s room grew dim. He didn’t bother to turn on the light. Instead, he let the shadows encroach around him, feeling almost comforted by their familiar embrace. Was it odd that he wasn’t afraid of the darkness? Probably, but that was okay too.

It was in this gloom that he often felt less alone, felt that perhaps the monster under his bed was not just a figment of his imagination or a manifestation of his fears. In fact, he knew that it was not. He had a very clear memory of what happened when he was eight years old.

The sound of footsteps approached outside his door—soft but distinct—and he instantly sat up. The door opened and there stood Elizabeth Hathaway Berkshire—his grandmother. Her presence filled the doorway. Her tall frame was adorned in an elegant silk dress that whispered prestige and cold authority.

“Austin,”

she began, her voice dry like dead leaves. “I heard about today’s... altercation at school.”

Austin tensed. News traveled fast in their circles, but this was just ridiculous.

“I trust you didn’t embarrass us?”

“No,”

Austin replied evenly, masking the turmoil inside with the practiced aloofness they had taught him, because of course that was her first worry—that he had embarrassed them. Not that he was hurt. He wasn’t, except for his pride.

But Travis was getting worse.

“Good.”

There was a pause as she scrutinized him—her sharp blue eyes missing nothing. “Remember who you are, Austin. You are a Berkshire. You do not let petty squabbles pull you down.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left as abruptly as she had arrived. Her words hung heavily in the air—an expectation set too high, a bar he could never reach.

Left alone once more, Austin felt an ironic smile tug at his lips. Everyone wanted something from him—compliance, strength, silence—but nobody asked what he wanted.

He wanted freedom, and he wanted to meet his monster.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. It was a text message from a classmate who was sort of, kind of a friend who was also on the team.

Hey, Austin, noticed you sprinted off after practice. Everything okay?

He stared at the screen for a long time before typing back a generic Yeah. I’m fine. He didn’t really hurt me. I’m just tired.

Tired. He didn’t know if tired truly explained what he was. Exhausted, maybe. Fed up?

The mirror on his dresser caught his attention, and he glanced at it. As the blue light from his phone illuminated his face in the dim room, Austin felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. He was surrounded by people yet completely alone.

Even this brief interaction felt superficial and hollow. Where was his monster? He needed him. Austin’s eyes drifted from the phone to the shadowy corners of his room, looking for his monster. He normally only appeared under the bed, but Austin couldn’t help checking the shadows.

Just then a low growl emanated from beneath his bed. It was faint but distinct—a visceral reminder he wasn’t truly alone. The sound, rather than sparking fear, brought a sense of grim companionship. Austin dropped his phone and lay back on the bed, his heart skipping a beat.

“Are you there?”

Austin asked, his voice barely louder than a breath.

For a moment, there was no answer but the soft whisper of his own pulse in his ears. Then, almost inaudibly, a voice murmured back, gravelly and deep. “Always.”