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  Brimstone

  Tamara Thorne

  Brimstone

  The Brimstone Grand Hotel, owned by reclusive former movie star, Delilah Devine, looms high on Hospital Hill, harboring long-buried family secrets that whisper of unimaginable horrors. Horrors that will echo down through generations.

  When Delilah’s granddaughter, Holly Tremayne, who has seen ghosts for most of her eleven years, first comes to live in the Brimstone Grand in the summer of 1968, she’s delighted by its majestic western beauty - and its chilling history. But as she settles in, making friends and enemies alike, the nightmares begin.

  Within the walls of the Brimstone Grand, the past has come back to life, and Holly and Delilah are faced with an ancient familial evil that rages just below the old hotel’s serene facade. An evil that won’t rest until it possesses Holly - body, mind, and soul.

  Also by Tamara Thorne

  Haunted

  Moonfall

  Candle Bay

  Eternity

  Thunder Road

  The Sorority

  The Forgotten

  Bad Things

  with Alistair Cross

  Mother

  Darling Girls

  The Cliffhouse Haunting

  The Ghosts of Ravencrest

  The Witches of Ravencrest

  Nonfiction

  Five Nights In a Haunted Cabin

  Praise for Brimstone

  Tamara Thorne’s BRIMSTONE is deliciously scary. Thorne’s finely-etched 11-year-old heroine, Holly Tremayne, sees ghosts, but it never really bothered her until she moves to Brimstone, Arizona. She meets a fascinating, colorful cast of characters, each one harboring a dark secret from their past. Earthquakes, nightmares, aberrations and ghosts keep the reader constantly on-edge. BRIMSTONE is like a hair-raising, fun trip through a house of horrors. But it’s not just one house, it’s a whole city. - Kevin O’Brien, the New York Times bestselling author of THEY WON’T BE HURT and THE BETRAYED WIFE

  “BRIMSTONE includes great characters, especially Holly. This little eleven-year-old girl is so endearing with her past and her heartbreaking relationship with her mother. The history and the Native American folklore with supernatural elements made this book one of my favorites of the year. I highly recommend this book; you will definitely not be disappointed.” -Book Review Crew

  "Tamara Thorne is the Mistress of Malignant Mansions, the Go-to Gal of the Grand Guignol; and her latest, BRIMSTONE, solidifies her place in the pantheon of modern Gothic storytellers. With a kaleidoscopic cast of characters, a rich sense of place, and ever mounting suspense, BRIMSTONE brims with chills and thrills. Highly entertaining and highly recommended!" - Jay Bonansinga, the New York Times bestselling author of THE WALKING DEAD: RETURN TO WOODBURY, SELF STORAGE, and FROZEN

  “Yet another unforgettable landmark on Tamara Thorne’s alternate map of haunted California—effectively expanded here to Arizona—BRIMSTONE demonstrates how much terror atmosphere and well-placed shocks can generate if handled with a deft hand. Not since the California Gothics of James Blaylock and Tim Powers has such a compelling vision of ghosts and monsters and the occult so ably tickled the spine and ruffled the short neck hairs … The thundering climax is as satisfying and fulfilling as any Thorne has ever crafted. BRIMSTONE is a shivery delight from first page to last, guaranteed to keep you reading long past your safe bedtime. -W.D. Gagliani, author of THE JUDAS HIT

  Praise for Tamara Thorne

  “Tamara Thorne has become one of those must-read horror writers. From her strong characters to her unique use of the supernatural, anything she writes entertains as much as it chills.” -Horror World

  “Tamara Thorne has an uncanny knack for combining the outrageous with the shuddery, making for wonderful, scary romps and fun reading.” - Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, author of Hotel Transylvania

  “Tamara Thorne is the new wave of horror--her novels are fascinating rides into the heart of terror and mayhem.” -Douglas Clegg, author of The Children’s Hour

  “Think Mario Puzo meets Anne Rice … Balance is what Thorne does best ... CANDLE BAY is a love story. A mob story. A family drama. A wise combination of creepy, thrilling, titillating, and good old vampire fun ..." -Michael Schutz, Darkness Dwells Radio

  Praise for Thorne & Cross

  MOTHER

  “MOTHER is about as disturbing as one can get. Thorne and Cross are seriously twisted individuals who know how to horrify and entertain at the same time.” - Fang-Freakin-Tastic Book Reviews

  “A great combination of strong characters that remind me of my V.C. Andrews characters, wonderful creepy twists, and a plot that will recall Mommie Dearest in an original take that shocks and delights at the same time. This is a full blown psychological thriller worth the investment of time and money.” - Andrew Neiderman, Author of The Devil's Advocate and the V.C. Andrews novels

  “MOTHER is a thriller in the truest sense of the word. What begins with a walk through a nice neighborhood in a nice town quickly becomes a chilling and unnerving descent into madness that is harder and harder to escape. Because I wear a fitness tracker I have scientific proof that the finale is a wild ride. Although I was curled up on the couch reading, MOTHER caused my heart rate to go up ten points! I’ll never look at a neighborhood block party the same way.” - QL Pearce, bestselling author of Scary Stories for Sleep-Overs

  “Thorne and Cross bring the goods with THE CLIFFHOUSE HAUNTING, a clockwork mechanism of gothic chills designed to grab the reader by the scruff and never let go until the terrifying conclusion. Atmospheric, sexy, brooding, and brutal, the book manages to be simultaneously romantic and hardboiled. Highly recommended!” - Jay Bonansinga, the New York Times bestselling author of The Walking Dead: Invasion

  “In THE GHOSTS OF RAVENCREST, Tamara Thorne and Alistair Cross have created a world that is dark, opulent, and smoldering with the promise of scares and seduction. You'll be able to feel the slide of the satin sheets, taste the fizz of champagne, and hear the footsteps on the stairs.” -Sylvia Shults, paranormal expert and author of Fractured Spirits and Hunting Demons

  “In this classic-style gothic, young Belinda Moorland takes a job as governess for the children of Eric Manning, whose family mansion, Ravencrest, was reassembled stone by stone after crossing over from England. Now stalked by a bevy of quirky, shady characters … the sinister estate and its naughty nightside hijinks take center stage in this expert tale of multi-generational evil - and love. THE GHOSTS OF RAVENCREST will chill you and make you hot and bothered at the same time. There’s nothing like a stay in a California town created by Thorne and Cross.” - W.D. Gagliani, author of Wolf’s Blind (the Nick Lupo Series)

  Brimstone

  © 2019 Tamara Thorne

  All Rights Reserved

  Glass Apple Press

  First ebook edition June, 2019

  This ebook is for your personal device only. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the authors.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Mike Rivera

  Brimstone is dedicated to my friend and collaborator, Alistair Cross, with love and respect. You keep me on track, you make me laugh, and you make me think. I treasure you, our friendship, and our work. Long may we brainstorm! And giggle like ten-year-olds during our breaks.

  Acknowledgments

  THANKS TO: Robert Thorne, for always being there, and Q.L. Pearce f
or your friendship and sage advice - and thanks to both of you for spending so many nights with me in haunted hotels during my research trips. Thanks, as well, to Berlin Malcom at BAM Literature for all her hard work, Mike Rivera for his great art, and Libba Campbell, for her eagle eye. And finally, thanks to the town of Jerome, Arizona, and The Jerome Grand Hotel for sparks of inspiration.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Arrival

  2. Welcome to the Neighborhood

  3. New Friends

  4. Miss Delilah

  5. The Bellhop

  6. Horses, Horses, and More Horses

  7. Arthur Meeks

  8. Dinner

  9. Ticket to Ride

  10. Settling In

  11. Darkness Rising

  12. Donkeys and Other Beasts of Burden

  13. Cherry, Interrupted

  14. Lies My Mother Told Me

  15. Taking Care of Business

  16. Cherry’s Pie and Other Delights

  17. At Gower’s Drugs

  18. Unwanted Memories

  19. Dining In

  20. The Page of Wands

  21. Ghost in the Machine

  22. The Day They Died

  23. 2 a.m

  24. The Dragon

  25. Morning Matters

  26. Keith Hala

  27. News of the Day

  28. Lessons

  29. Dinner at Devine’s

  30. The Basement

  31. A New Day

  32. Secrets

  33. Stinkeye

  34. An Overdue Talk

  35. Sleepover

  36. Insomnia

  37. In the Shadow of the Beast

  38. In the Morning

  39. Holly Takes a Shortcut

  40. Fragmented Spirits

  41. Fluffy Tales

  42. The Tea Party

  43. Slightly Quiet Night

  44. Cherry Picking

  45. Lemons and Lemonade

  46. Something Wicked

  47. Meek as a Lamb

  48. The Cave in the Desert

  49. The Book

  50. Do Not Go Meekly

  51. In the Brimstone Grand

  52. The Old Dark House

  53. The Escape

  54. In the Cellar

  55. The Uninvited

  56. Desecration

  57. Fluffy to the Rescue

  58. House of the Dead

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Tamara Thorne

  Prologue

  Brimstone, Arizona

  “Run! Run! Run!” The cry echoed in her head as the little girl clutched the book tightly against her chest with one hand and used her other to steady herself as she began her scramble down the rocky hill.

  One foot caught in a rodent hole and she fell flat out, face in the dirt. “Run!” She rose, ignoring the pain in her ankle, the dust and dirt on her white pinafore apron. Clawing twigs of dry tumbleweed from her hair, never loosening her grip on the book, she limped toward the little cave, her cave, her secret hiding place.

  “Run!” She glanced back, not sure whether the voice was real or not, but saw no one above the ridgeline, only rocks and desert scrub. She scanned. Below lay the town and the copper mines where men trailed like ants. No one was near - no one was watching her. Ignoring her ankle, unaware of the tears forging dusty rivers down her cheeks, she hurried on.

  Halfway down the hill, breathing hard, she turned west, picking a path through the rocks and manzanita as she had dozens of times before; there was no visible trail, but she knew the way by heart. Just when she thought she couldn’t go another painful step, she saw the tall tan and red stone that stood sentinel outside the little cave.

  She thought she heard a scream, but it might have been the wind.

  You can do it. You have to! She limped around the swirled sandstone rock then pushed past a stand of sagebrush. There, about two feet off the ground was the entrance; it was impossible to see until you were right on it.

  She peered into the narrow opening, felt cool air that smelled of dust and desert, then set the black leatherbound book inside. Putting her hands on the ledge, she pushed herself up into the darkness.

  Wishing for a lantern, she crawled in deeper, past the angled sunlight, past the Indian drawings halfway in, pushing the book along as she moved. It was a narrow passage and a dozen feet in, it suddenly became so tight that even a six-year-old could go no further. She turned around and settled, one leg crossed, the sore one straight out in front of her. She put the thick black book beside her and reached down to gently rub her ankle. It was hot and swollen.

  The cave was too dark without a lantern, way too dark, but she concentrated on the shadowy light coming in from the entrance, watched the moving shadows of the sagebrush. It kept her calm, helped her not think about what she’d seen when she’d opened the basement door only a few minutes before.

  She waited, unsure of what was happening above, knowing only that something was wrong, really wrong, and that Carrie and Addie were in trouble. She’d heard noises - voices and weird sounds - carrying up from the basement of the Clementine Hospital. She had opened the door and then Carrie, hair wild, face streaked with dirt, clothing torn and bloodied, had appeared in the lamplight and bolted up the stairs. She’d thrust a black book into her baby sister’s hands. “Run! Hide it. Hide it where no one can ever find it! Promise!”

  Below, she heard scuffling, then Addie screamed and Grandfather cursed.

  “But-”

  “Promise! Do you promise?” Carrie’s blue eyes bored into hers, the gold fleck in one seeming to glow and pulse.

  “I promise.” She clasped the book to her chest.

  “Good girl. Now, go!” With that, Carrie was yanked back into the shadows.

  But the little girl just stood there, staring at the black book with gold letters embossed on it: INFURNAM AERIS. The words meant nothing to her. Nor did the symbol beneath it:

  Uncomprehending, she simply listened as Carrie and Addie and Grandfather fought and yelled. Things fell over, there was a rushing sound, then something appeared in the lamplight at the bottom of the stairs, leering at her, tongue lolling, slobber glistening.

  “GO!” Carrie screamed.

  She ran.

  Now, secure in her secret cave, she wept. For how long, she didn’t know, but finally, she wiped her face on the hem of her dusty dress and looked up again. The sun was at a different angle now; it was getting late. Carefully, she undid her pinafore apron and pulled it over her head, then wrapped the leather book tightly in it. Pushing the book ahead of her, she crawled back toward the entrance, relieved as the cave widened. Beneath the Indian drawings was a neat pile of smooth rocks. She moved the stones, put the wrapped book in their place, then carefully piled the rocks on top of it.

  Unable to see the drawings in the darkness, she touched the rocky wall, trying to feel them. Petroglyphs. Carrie had taken her to see the petroglyphs on Brimstone Peak a few months back and told her how they were hundreds, maybe thousands of years old. At least. There were lots more of them there than here, but these were her favorites because they were hers and hers alone. She felt like she knew the Indian who had drawn them. “Keep the book hidden,” she whispered. “Promise?”

  Outside, the wind sighed softly. She took it as a reply. “Thank you.”

  She crawled forward. Just before she climbed out, something moaned deep in the earth behind her. There was a crack! and then everything was shaking. Dust and gravel showered her head. Coughing, she covered her face with her hands as the world rocked and fine earth sifted over her. She was afraid, couldn’t breathe, and was terrified she was going to be buried alive like the miners last year.

  Then it stopped. Instantly, she pushed herself out of the cave, crying out as she landed on her twisted ankle. She wiped dirt off her face as best she could then looked back into her little cavern. She couldn’t see anything in the dusty darkness.

 
; Taking a deep breath, she felt suddenly calm, knowing her plea had been heard; the book would not be found.

  1

  Arrival

  July, 1968

  The town clung to the side of the hill, almost vertical, looking like it would tumble down the slopes if you so much as sneezed on it.

  “We’re going to live here?” Holly Tremayne glanced at her mother.

  “Yeah, we sure are. For now.” Cherry took a final drag on her cigarette then dropped it in the red dirt of the turnout and crushed it under her pink sneaker. She pointed. “See that very top building on the tallest hill?”