A Whispered Darkness (27 page)

Margaret Elliot – MD ***

My brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Look at the back.

I jumped at the whisper, but nothing about it was like the others. I flipped the page over and my heart pounded harder.

Claire Mallory – MD, TLP *****

The script was the strange mix of Mom’s and the foreign loops and coils. This had been written a while ago. Everything she wrote now was completely in that unfamiliar, old-fashioned hand.

I looked around me. “What do the letters mean? I don’t have time to figure this out!”

It seemed like I heard an annoyed sigh, followed by another reluctant whisper.

MD – Medium.

I looked at the list of names and my eyes widened. This place collected psychics. MD meant medium. TLP could be telepathic. Some were marked TLK—telekinetic. Horace was doing experiments on psychics. It all made sense now.

Another thump and a faint moan brought me to the present. I shoved the letter and list in my pocket and closed all the drawers before heading for the door. As I opened it wide to leave, light caught the edge of a stack of photos in a box near the door. I lifted it, drawn to see what they held.

Many were of the inmates in various places in the house. Some were sad. Most were obviously propaganda designed to make it look like a summer retreat rather than a prison.

Two made me gasp. One was of the willowy beauty, her belly round with child, smiling up at someone who looked so much like Haven, I had to search for the differences.

The other had the woman standing with a man in a formal portrait. They both looked unhappy. But what brought more goose bumps to my arms was that it looked like Bryan.

Hurry!

A voice whispered, and I folded the two photos up and shoved those in my pockets. Then I slipped out and pulled the door shut. My heart pounded as my mind tried to wrap itself around the significance of what I’d found.

I crept upstairs, forcing myself to breathe. Any moment, I was certain one of the spirits would sound an alarm. Silence reigned, both psychically and physically.

The third floor brought a new kind of stillness. The moment I stepped off the stairs and into the hallway, pressure pushed against me. In my mind, spirits wavered and waited behind closed doors. My stomach tightened. There were more now. More of them than ever before. How many had been tortured? Their gifts were why he’d brought them here and what made them so powerful in death.

I rubbed my ears, feeling like I should be popping them. Pausing at each to listen, I made my way past the doors. No sound emerged, not even the normal creaks and groans of an old house. I tested each door knob. All were locked tight.

I got all the way to the end and found nothing. Fisting my hands on my hips, I studied the expanse of wood floor in front of me. She was here. I knew it. I’d felt her presence—briefly, but it had been there.

Which meant the spirits in the house hid her from me. So close to Halloween, I had no chance of overpowering them myself. I needed to look for her with my power alone.

Sweat dampened my palms and I rubbed them on my jeans. Once I started this, I had to be fast. Mom would know what I was doing, and she’d be back. With a deep breath, I opened my mind. Shrieks made me flinch and grab at my ears, though I knew it wouldn’t help.

Where I normally saw sparks of light and shadowy figures, the forms of the ghosts were much clearer. Five women paced and stormed around the rooms to my right. To my left, three men and Ernest pushed against their confines. In the middle room, a woman cowered, her form brighter and more solid.

Haven’s mother.

I moved to the door, struggling to cut out their curses and cries. The effort it took made my hands tremble and sweat to bead on my brow.

I can block them, unlock the door, but I will not be able to leave here.

The voice was deep and sad. I turned my head, my hands still jerked on the doorknob. The presence was familiar, and I blinked. Vale was not what I expected. He couldn’t have been Haven’s father. While they had similar features, this man was dressed in Victorian blacks.

His great-grandfather. I’ve been looking after them, trying to prevent history from repeating itself. I was certain it would happen with my granddaughter.
He nodded to the door.
But it isn’t her at all.

His dark eyes bore into mine, and nausea churned in my stomach. “Me?”

I could be wrong. I have been, often, over the years. For your sake, I hope so.

A burst of darkness blew through the house, and I almost fell to my knees. It felt like needles were being driven behind my eyes. “Help me, please. She’s almost back.”

Vale dissolved into nothing, and I frowned. It seemed suddenly darker in here than it had before.

Beneath my hand, the lock clicked, and the door gave in to my shove. Haven’s mother, disheveled and whimpering, rocked in the far corner of the room.

“Mrs. Elliot?” I took slow, measured steps toward her. Up close, I saw her arm was cut and caked with dried blood and dirt.

Her head turned toward me, and only a tiny flicker of recognition moved the madness in her gaze.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Her voice not more than a broken whimper.

I moved closer. “I wouldn’t. I want to get you out of here.”

She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “God, there are so many voices. And Vale, he has stopped them, but he’s left me now.”

Lightly, I touched her shoulder. It was like setting a match to gunpowder. She flung herself at me, screeching, pushed me to the side. I fell against the rickety cot, curling into a ball and bouncing to the floor.

Haven’s mother fled, like the hounds of hell nipped at her heels. I wondered if they did. Pain radiated up my elbow where it cracked against the floor. I blinked back sudden tears, and in the instant between one breath and the next, Mom stood in the doorway.

“Surprised to see me?” She shook her head. “There are more things about the supernatural than you will ever understand.”

“What are you trying to accomplish with all this?” I asked. What do we have that you want so badly?”

“
Tsk.
I’ve been around long enough to see this scenario on your modern television shows. I’m not reciting my plan while you wait for the cavalry. For you, there will be none.”

I pulled my feet underneath me, crouched now, rather than sitting. “It doesn’t make sense. Why me? Why us?”

She took another step in, and I lunged for the door. There should’ve been room for me to slide past, but I found myself flung against the doorframe. I slid down, my body aching where it hit the corner of the wood.

“I know who you are.”

Mom’s laugh was deeper than it should have been. “I’m not the villain in a fairy story, my dear. I do not break at the sound of my own name.”

Dread mixed with the fear rising in my gut and I struggled to keep control of myself. Mom’s smile grew wider.

“So much stronger than the others. You’ll do quite nicely.”

With one foot, she shoved at me, and I rolled to my side. I tried to reach out and grab her, but my body didn’t respond like it should have. My limbs were heavy, weighed down as if several people held me back.

“Something to leave you with, Claire Mallory,” Mom said as she stepped into the hall. “You know about ghosts and the dead. Have you ever wondered why psychics never linger behind as ghosts?”

The door closed, and I struggled to sit up. The weight on my body increased, pushing me into the floor, slamming against the barriers in my mind. Each spirit picked at the barrier, trying their hardest to chip away at it. Tears streamed down my face as I fought the pain and poured all my energy into keeping them out.

Until everything faded to black.

***

“Finally, sleeping beauty awakes!”

A thin, black-clad pre-teen with a faded purple dye job sat cross-legged near me. Sunlight streamed through the small dormer window, dust motes dancing in the beams.

“What the hell happened?” I croaked. As I pushed myself upright, my head throbbed and I stifled a moan.

“You got lucky. And your guards…” She whistled softly. “I’ve never seen anyone who could keep them up even when unconscious.”

I blinked, then realized my vision wasn’t screwy. The other girl really was fuzzy around the edges, and in some spots her pale skin was transparent.

“You’re one of them.” Instantly, I was on alert. “What do you want?”

“First, I’m not one of those losers. I’m a free agent. As for what I want…” she trailed off. Her expression lost some of its attitude. She looked sad, young, and vulnerable. “I want to go home and take it all back. But that can’t happen now. What I need, you can’t give yet.”

Something clicked in my head. The clothes, the speech, her age. “Melanie?”

She examined her chipped nails and smirked. “Took you long enough.”

“If I can’t give you what you want, why are you here?”

“To help you.”

Suspicion made me wary. No one in this place did anything without a reason. “Why?”

“Because I can’t move on until some requirements are met. You are the only one who can fulfill those needs.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think, anyway.”

“I can try to help. What are they?” The sunlight dimmed a bit, and I shivered. My hands rubbed at my temples, trying to ease the painful ache.

Melanie tilted her head. “Not yet. Not until I’m sure. Otherwise I’m telling my plan to the enemy.”

“I’m not your enemy.”

She snorted. “That’s what the others say, but they ended up here, shadows of themselves, consumed and broken by their own darkness.”

“Tell me, then. Why are they all here? Why show me what’s in the room downstairs?”

“They’re here because they have to be. As for why show you, it’s kind of obvious. You need answers.”

If she’d been corporeal, I’d have shaken her. “Now you’re being vague on purpose.”

“You figured out who’s in possession of your mom. He’s holding us all here, and vice versa. He took our lives, and we’re making sure we keep him miserable with us. While he was here, he tried a lot of experiments.”

I hadn’t realized it was possible for a ghost to pale, but Melanie did. “Some of the things aren’t pretty. I can’t get anyone to tell me what he wanted to accomplish. All I know is something went horribly wrong. Now they’re trapped here, and they think you’re their ticket to freedom.”

“What about Haven’s mother?”

Melanie flipped her hand. “They tried on her first, but she wasn’t strong enough. They wanted her to come back so they could absorb her into them. They don’t want to be alone. Being dead and a ghost is like being in the middle of a crowded room, screaming your head off, bleeding to death, and people just step over you. They want payback for years of being ignored in the flesh and after.”

I pushed myself off the floor and onto the cot, doing my best not to think about what the dark stain in the middle could be. Cradling my head in my hands, I groaned. “What does this have to do with me and the parting comment about being psychic?”

Melanie opened her mouth, and then closed it. A low hiss started from the other side of the wall.

“My time is about up. I can’t answer that, or they’re going to come after me.”

“What exactly does a ghost have to fear from another ghost?”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

Before I could comment, Melanie smirked and walked through the door. The whispers began again and I groaned, pushing against the noise. Taking the few steps to the door, I grabbed the handle and jerked on it. It didn’t even rattle. The door and knob might as well have been carved from a solid piece of marble. I couldn’t even keep hold of it long, the icy metal biting into my palm.

I pounded on the door, but all I accomplished was bruising my hand. The window was tiny, and I headed there next. Outside, I noticed Mom’s car in the driveway. The sun hovered over the treetops, so I knew evening approached. As I watched, Haven emerged from the woods and disappeared under the porch awning below me. I strained to hear anything, but only the faint sound of a door closing below me indicated anything had happened. Haven emerged, his gaze trailed over the house. I pounded on the window, waving my arms and yelling.

He didn’t notice.

“Stop it.” Melanie poked her head through the wall next to me. “You’re only going to draw trouble for yourself. He can’t see you. Horace will make sure of that.”

“If you aren’t going to help, then buzz off, Melanie.”

She flipped me the bird and disappeared again.

Haven turned and headed toward his house, his shoulders sagged. I leaned my forehead against the cold window glass, my breath fogging the panes. With one fingertip, I traced the word HELP. It faded before I’d even finished.

I went back to my seat on the cot, massaging my temples. The voices were always there in the back of my mind, like cicadas buzzing in summer. If I focused, they grew loud and maddening. But if I turned my attention elsewhere, I could pretend they were white noise.

Something poked the side of my leg and I shifted, pulling out the photos and letter. My cell phone fell out with them.

“Dear God, why didn’t I think of that one sooner?” I muttered, pressing he power button.

Nothing happened. I popped out the battery and replaced it, but still the screen stayed blank. I cursed and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. Of course the thing was dead. I was in the middle of ghost central, and things with batteries had a tendency to run dry when the paranormal was involved.

I picked up the letter and unfolded it gently. The paper was soft, the creases floppy, like it had been opened and closed many times.

Dear Margaret,

I have no way to ever adequately express my dismay and apologize for what has happened. Had I been able to contact you or your family, I would have. Your brother will not allow me access even to send a letter to your parents explaining things. I fear I have only caused more damage.

Be strong for me, and for the child. I will fight to free you from this mess as best I can, and as soon as I can. I miss you, and I know this will pass. Do not fear. It is the stress of the situation causing these strange dreams and visions. Do not allow them to make you believe you are something you are not.