“You should leave here.”
The voice made Lilly jump, and she swung around. At her window a figure stood, fully formed and yet ethereal. Becca. She wasn’t the Becca Lilly had seen before. This time the girl’s normally sunken eyes and pale skin had blossomed into a peach and rose beauty. Her eyes, once so dead, seemed totally alive. Her voice vibrated with health.
Lilly took a step forward. “Becca. Thank you for leading me to Oleta. I cannot say enough for helping me find her.”
“You’ve never thanked me for much.”
Lilly smiled. “I like to give credit where it’s due.”
For the first time, Lilly saw a change on the apparition’s face. A glow came from within. “I am free now, Lilly. And I forgive you for what you did to me. You didn’t mean to hurt me. I shouldn’t have hurt you, either. I was mean and cruel and that wasn’t right.”
Tears filled Lilly’s eyes. Forgiveness also filled Lilly, a freeing sensation she’d never known before this moment. “Thank you. Can you leave in peace? Can you find heaven?”
Becca held out her hands, as if embracing a light that surrounded her. She smiled and her form started to fade. “I have found it. But there is one more message. You have to leave today. Find some place to go. This place is still dangerous.”
“Go? But where?”
The form wavered like leaves swishing in the wind—a rainbow starting to fade. “Find refuge with that nice man.”
“Which man?”
“Morgan Healy.”
And with that, the ghost disappeared. Lilly wandered toward the window, filled with the love and forgiveness Becca had given. With delight she enjoyed the emotion, the wonder eclipsing her heart. She was free of Becca, and the little girl had found release from her torment. As she looked out the window into the cold world outside, she pondered the girl’s warning. Finding refuge with Morgan didn’t seem likely. Yes, she’d found affection and concern with him. He’d asked her to go away with him. Should she? What of love? Could he love her?
It overwhelmed her in a huge wave, a staggering realization she’d tried so hard to deny. She loved Morgan. Loved him with everything she had. But if she left with him, and he didn’t love her .... She didn’t want to think on it.
She wondered if the pendant protected her, and she liked the idea of wearing it around her neck always. It would remind her of dear Oleta. Pure pain sliced her like a knife. Though she should be happy Becca would no longer haunt her, and Oleta no longer lay in the snow abandoned, Lilly couldn’t cheer herself. Too many things had occurred in too short a time.
She remembered all she must be grateful for, including her home here at the asylum, which she would always have if she wanted. Unless, of course, the superintendent kicked her out. That was a distinct possibility once Masterson Healy heard from the sheriff her suspicions. Morgan didn’t know how precarious her situation might be here; why should he? Yes, she’d told him things about his family, but naturally he couldn’t see it the way she did. Looking in from the outside was considerably easier.
She couldn’t sit idle when the Healy’s had something to do with Oleta’s death and thirteen others. One way or the other, she’d find a way to see justice done for all those women. She left her room to head to the dining area, hoping she could convince the cook to whip something up for her. She’d started down the ward when she saw Mrs. Angel coming toward her. It was not what she wanted to encounter right now.
“Lilly Luna, you are needed,” Mrs. Angel said.
Lilly’s suspicion heightened. “For what?”
“Wilma.”
“Wilma’s husband came to get her.”
Mrs. Angel’s chuckle was cold and hard. Her eyes flashed with a cruel fire. “The old buzzard is definitely still here.”
Weary of the woman, Lilly didn’t hesitate to say, “Old? She’s younger than you.”
The woman’s glare could have stripped hide off a bull. “Doesn’t matter. The woman is madder than a bat and just as flighty. She’s asking for you.”
Mrs. Angel grabbed Lilly’s arm and tugged her toward the staircase to the basement.
Lilly’s tolerance snapped. “What are you doing?”
“She’s in the basement. We had to put her there because she’s acting more strange than usual. Superintendent Healy was afraid she’d hurt herself. Crazy damned people.”
“You’re here. What does that say about you?”
Mrs. Angel’s grip tightened, and Lilly tried to pull away. Mrs. Angel released her. “You have to talk with Wilma. You’re the only one who can calm her down.”
Lilly headed for the basement. Mrs. Angel followed close behind, making Lilly feel crowded. The basement door stood open a hair, and Lilly wondered why Mrs. Angel had left it unlocked. She opened the door and the lamplight below barely illuminated the stairs descending into the blackness. Before she could do more than take a few steps down, the door slammed behind them both.
Mrs. Angel let out a squeak. It was a noise Lilly never expected to hear from a woman like her. “Damn it! God bless it.” Mrs. Angel glared down at Lilly. “Keep going. Why are you stopping?”
Lilly continued, her stomach starting a slow roll of nerves. Perhaps she should have ignored the woman’s request to see Wilma. Lilly’s skin prickled as a cold breeze wended it’s way up the stairs. She quivered, but kept moving. At the bottom of the stairs, the basement seemed to rise up. Lilly staggered and grabbed the hand railing. Though she’d felt confident going into the basement before, now she felt dread. She didn’t know what was wrong…only that something was off. The walls seemed blacker, as if the stone refused to reflect any light and the darkness consumed anyone who trespassed here. She inhaled slowly but surely and opened herself only to what she needed to know. Catherine wasn’t here.
“Get along.” Mrs. Angel nudged her from the back. “What’s holding you up?”
“Where is Wilma?” Lilly asked, eager to talk with the woman and return upstairs.
“Last cell on the left.”
Lilly hurried past the cells as dread slid up her spine. Shivers raced over her body. She didn’t feel the presence of Catherine down here, but she did feel evil. It wasn’t a new observance, so it didn’t make her hesitate. Light from a lamp left on the floor in the hallway made shadows crawl up the walls. Her body tingled as a strange foreboding took hold of her.
“Wilma?” she asked into the semi-darkness. “Mrs. Hancock?”
One cell door was open, it’s maw like the mouth of a monster from the most horrific dreams. Lilly wouldn’t wish this place on anyone, not even Wilma.
“Wilma, it’s Lilly. You need to speak with me?”
A huge shove came from behind, and Lilly toppled into the darkness with a cry of anger and alarm. She fell against a wall and everything went black.
* * *
After leaving Lilly at the asylum, Morgan had spent the majority of his evening preparing to leave town. Determination came, and he knew what he had to do. Nothing would alter his immediate plan. He knew letting anyone know that he planned to leave, wouldn’t serve him. He’d take Lilly away from here and make sure that she had the life she deserved, whatever life she wanted. Now, in the early morning he was ready to get Lilly. He hadn’t seen his father, and he didn’t care if he did.
Morgan was heading toward his mother’s room, when he heard a strange noise—a screaming that rose high-pitched and wailing. He stopped in his tracks on the landing, then sprang into action when he realized it came from Patricia’s room.
“Patricia, no! No!” His mother cried out in desperation.
Morgan burst through the door to his sister’s room and came upon a scene he never expected to see. Patricia held a kitchen knife, arms outstretched as her mother held the knife away from Patricia’s body. He rushed to them, helping his mother to twist the knife away from his sister. The knife flew across the room and Morgan pushed her back against the wall to free his mother.
“Morgan!” His mother’s voice rang in
his ears, harsh with fear. “Don’t hurt her.”
Morgan held his sister’s arms back against the wall as she struggled. “What happened?”
“She attacked me.” His mother’s panting breath came around the answer. “She was asking where Lilly was. She was saying she wants to kill her.”
That’s when he saw his sibling’s true face. Her mental condition, though serious in the last ten years, had deteriorated to a level fiercely powerful and untenable. A strange and horrific darkness had taken over her eyes; they held a strange calm that sucked a watcher into her world. He shivered as he held her wrists to the wall, feeling her strength ... the pure ... Evil.
“Oh, God,” Morgan whispered.
“You see it now,” his mother said, her voice breaking. “You see it don’t you? Please tell me it isn’t just me?”
“I see it.” His voice broke. “Jesus Christ, I see it.”
He’d never believed in evil before in the way he did now. Seeing it in his sister’s eyes burned an unholy path through his soul and frightened him to the edge. He sank into that gaze swallowed by malice, hate, and the rage to kill.
“Morgan!” His mother’s voice pleaded with him. “What do we do?”
He ripped his gaze from his sister’s and looked at his mother. She was shaking, her hands clasped together, expression wild with apprehension. “Help me to tie her to the bed. We’ll need people to watch over her until we can get her to the asylum.”
“She can’t go to the asylum.”
“She will. She has to. After we’ve got her tied up, I’m heading to the asylum and demand father do something about her condition. It’s too dangerous for her to be here. We cannot take care of her here.”
Nodding, her eyes full of tears, his mother ran to get help.
Zelda and another servant came and assisted Morgan with tying the now placid Patricia to the bed. Morgan checked her vitals and discovered her pulse strong and her heartbeat equally normal. Her eyes were closed. Whatever had come over Patricia seem to have calmed for the moment.
Morgan assigned Zelda and the other servant to stay with Patricia. No one was to allow her to leave the bed without precautions being taken at all times. He explained how dangerous she’d become, and that he feared she could seriously harm someone.
Morgan sat on the edge of Patricia’s bed. “Are you all right Patricia?”
“No.”
Her eyes didn’t hold the same mania they had before, but when he looked within them he saw only glimmers of his sister. It was as if something had eaten her up from the inside, a parasite determined to take over her body. Morgan’s body chilled. Though he’d certainly seen this state in more than one lunatic at the asylum and in his medical training, nothing had prepared him for seeing it within a family member.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “We’ll get help. You’ll feel better soon.”
“Where is Lilly?”
“She’s at the asylum.”
“Is she mad, too?”
“No.”
Patricia nodded. “You shouldn’t leave her there, Morgan. She’s a good person. She’s always treated me well, even when this ... whatever is wrong with me goes wrong ....”
In his experience, many lunatics didn’t understand they were afflicted. At least with Patricia, her clarity gave her awareness. Or was it a curse to know one was losing their grip on reality?
“She is a good woman,” he said.
“Then help her, Morgan. She needs help.”
“What do you mean?”
Patricia’s eyes turned again, and it felt as if he’d lost his sister forever in the blackness. “If she stays in Tranquil View, you know she’ll die. If she comes here, I’ll kill her.”
Fear threatened once more, pulling and tugging at him. He could fall in. He could lose his way as he watched his family destroy itself. He almost allowed the fear to kindle inside him, to become more than the small flame hidden away in his heart. Longing twisted inside him for Lilly. God, how he already missed her, and he hadn’t left Simple yet. If she refused to come with him to Denver, what would he do? He would worry about her every moment. Somehow he must convince her to come with him.
“She’ll be safe,” he said. “I’ll make certain of that.”
“Good. Promise me you won’t bring her back here.”
“I promise.”
“I’m not me. I hurt people, Morgan. I hurt people.”
“Shhh. It is all right. Go to sleep. Rest.”
With that, Patricia closed her eyes.
Chapter 25
Lilly became aware of sensations slowly. Throbbing pain in her temple. Cold. Dark. A sense of stark, unimaginable fear.
The fear lingered around the edges, battling with the physical sensations for supremacy. It clogged her throat and quickened her heart. She forced it back, knowing that fear in this place could cripple. This place? Where was she? At first it didn’t come through the fog of uncertainty and physical discomfort. The basement.
An annoying sound grated on her ears. It was a woman’s sobbing—a soft, heartbreaking sound that made Lilly shudder. Sadness filled that pitiful whimpering. Trembling, she struggled through the throb in her head. With effort she opened her eyes. Her head was turned to the left; she was lying on her front, sprawled inelegantly on cold stone. She shifted her arms and legs. Nothing was broken, so far as she could tell. She blinked and looked around. Through the blackness, she could see, in only the way she could. Moving her head didn’t hurt as much as she would have expected. She groaned as she struggled to put her knees and elbows under her. Pushing up on her knees, she glanced around. Her heart sank. She was in one of the cells. Locked in a cell.
Panic threatened, but she controlled it with one deep breath and another. Mrs. Angel had pushed her or hit her over the head. No sign of the despicable woman now. She stood slowly and the ache in her head intensified for a moment. She touched her forehead. No blood that she could tell. The whimpering continued in the background.
“Who is there?” Lilly asked.
The whimpering stopped.
“Wilma,” came the aching voice filled with sorrow. “Is that you, Lilly?”
“Yes.”
“Please don’t hate me.” The woman’s normally imperious tone had disappeared; she sounded weak and suffering.
“Why would I hate you?”
“I didn’t bring you down here. I didn’t ask Mrs. Angel to bring you here.”
Lilly sighed and went to the cell door. “I don’t hate you. Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Lilly placed her palms on the cold, splintered wood door. “How long have you been here?”
“Since I talked to you last.”
Lilly’s stomach tumbled. “Was your husband ever coming for you?”
“No. I guess not.”
Lilly muttered a curse under her breath. “Have they fed you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do or say something extraordinary to get them to put you down here?”
“No. I swear I didn’t.” Desperation and panic colored the woman’s voice.
Lilly rubbed her arms. “Was it Mrs. Angel who put you down here?”
“Yes.”
“It’s freezing in here. How have you stayed warm?”
“Staying awake. Pacing the floor. Singing to myself.”
Lilly wondered how long she would have to do the same thing. She would need to start thinking and thinking hard. “We have to get out of here, Wilma.”
“We’re going to die down here.”
Lilly countered immediately. “No, we won’t. We’ll be all right. If we just keep talking.”
“Praying?”
“Pray if you must. Whatever keeps your faith in living.”
“What keeps your faith in living, Lilly? You don’t believe in God.”
“I never said that.”
“Humph.”
“Honestly, Wilma, it isn’t the time to speak of religion. We need to
work together to get out of here.” As darkness seemed to creep in closer, Lilly wondered if she could call on Catherine and other ghosts to help her. She pondered only a few moments. “There are a few things you need to know if we’re going to work together.”
“All right.”
“I believe in ghosts, and I can see them. They also talk to me.”
“What?”
“I also can see in the dark. Always have been able to see in the dark. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I used to wander around down here when I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Then you ... you can see? But I can’t see anything.”
“I know.”
Wilma sobbed. “Oh, God, save us. Are you the devil?”
Lilly rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Wilma, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not the devil. I’m not even evil. But there is evil in this basement. I would even go so far as to say the entire asylum is evil. There are people in here who are evil. Living souls. Mrs. Angel, for example.”
Wilma’s soft crying continued. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to know what is happening and why we might be in this predicament.” Lilly began to pace. The sound of her footfalls on the hard floor echoed.
“You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”
“Idiot? No. Why would I think that?”
“Because my husband threw me in here. I’m not insane you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You think he threw me in here because I threw the Bible at him, don’t you?”
Lilly chuckled as the only amusement she’d felt in a long time lightened her heart. “I think you’ve thrown it at him figuratively at least once. Probably more.”
“Well ...” Wilma said. “I threw two of them at him and broke the spines on both.”
“Why?”
“Because he calls me names, tells me I’m a whore and that I don’t read the good word enough.”
Lilly shifted on her feet. “Be that as it may, I wanted you to know what I can do.”
Shadows Wait Page 28
