“Did you make a pact with the devil?”
“No, of course not. I don’t really believe in the devil, Wilma. But I do believe in evil.”
“Why did you tell me all this?”
“Because I’m going to ask the ghosts to help us.”
Wilma made a scoffing noise. “You are not serious?”
“I am.”
Before they could speak again, the air became colder, and a foul scent perfumed the air.
* * *
Morgan rushed toward his father’s office, passing by the curious stares of staff. He had two purposes now, and he wouldn’t run from them. He would get his sister into the asylum for assistance. After that he would make certain Lilly came with him. Before Morgan could enter the administration area, his father walked out. His hair was mussed, his gaze almost as wild as Patricia’s had been. They stopped in their tracks, both staring at each other.
“What are you doing here?” Morgan’s father asked.
“I need to speak to you.”
“We’ve already said everything there is to say, Morgan.”
His father’s urgency to see him gone didn’t surprise Morgan, but his gut held a dull ache of disappointment. “I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
Morgan’s father hesitated, but Morgan stared him straight in the eye. Finally, the older man nodded and turned back to his office. Once in the office with the door closed, Morgan’s father settled in his leather chair behind his large desk. He looked like a king on a throne, but Morgan had lost any respect he’d had for the man a long time ago. Morgan continued to stand. He didn’t even take off his coat and hat.
“Why are you here?” Masterson Healy repeated.
“Patricia must be put into the asylum. She attacked Mother.”
Masterson’s face fell, but he quickly formed his usual stern façade again. “Is your mother all right?”
“Yes.” Morgan explained what had happened and what he’d done to restrain his sister. “She must be taken care of here at the asylum. She’s a danger to everyone in the household and you know it.” His father’s expression didn’t change, and Morgan felt the last of his hope sink. “You have to do something.”
“She can be cared for at home.”
“She cannot.” Morgan’s temper threatened to erupt. “I’m not leaving Simple until you understand what has to be done. You know as well as I do that my sister’s mental situation has deteriorated over the years. Have you evaluated her?”
His father nodded once more and seemed to sink into his chair. “Unofficially. I had a fellow doctor come and assess her. He said her mood is far worse than a melancholy.”
“Obviously. It is worse than dysphoria.”
Masterson’s gaze shifted away, his manner more humble than Morgan expected. “She’s constantly shifting between coherent and normal to manic. My colleague said he hasn’t seen a case like hers so intense. It’s all we can do to keep her stable.”
“She’s been doing this for ten years, hasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Morgan’s anger threatened to rise, but he realized it wouldn’t help the situation if he lost control. “I have to ask you something, and I want the truth. What really happened to all of Patricia’s companions?”
His father’s face twisted from faint annoyance to pure anger. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice turned low and menacing. “All of those women don’t matter. They were nothing.”
Dread rose in Morgan’s stomach. Slow. Cold. Sickening. “What happened to them?”
Morgan’s father fiddled with a quill pen lying on his desk, his eyes averted. He’d always insisted on using the old-fashioned pens, despite their messiness and impracticality. He said it looked stately. Important. Right now he looked diminished. Boiling on the edge of something, his eyes sparking with a fire Morgan didn’t like seeing.
“I said, it doesn’t matter,” Masterson said.
Suspicion sliced through Morgan with razor-sharp teeth. Could Lilly’s assertions be true in some way? He didn’t want to believe it, but the cold pit in his stomach grew larger by the moment. Morgan refused to let go; his conscience wouldn’t allow it. “If the women left or were fired, then you should be able to tell me what happened to each one of them.”
His father stood slowly. “You never were the son I needed. If I could trust you, I’d tell you the truth. But you failed. You failed this family when you left medical school.”
Morgan was beyond the hurt of his father’s stinging words. Right now discovering the truth mattered more. “Ignoring my so-called failure for the moment, what the hell happened to those women. I’m not leaving the office until you tell me.”
“That little chit Lilly put the question in your head, didn’t she? Christ all mighty, I wish you’d never laid eyes on her.”
“Yeah, well ... she came to the ball, and you hired her. And I don’t give a shit what you wish.” Morgan didn’t miss the irony. He recalled telling his father that he didn’t think Lilly was qualified to assist Patricia, and how his father had campaigned for Lilly.
Morgan’s father sniffed. “I thought you had more sense and taste than to fall in love with a woman like her.”
Love? God, what a time to feel the revelation—the bite of understanding. Yes, he loved her. He ached with it. He’d been lost the moment he’d set eyes upon her. He’d never felt this way for another woman. Lilly completed him in a way he’d never experienced. Despite the protests she’d given him about leaving the asylum and Simple, he knew what he had to do. He would go to her and ask her—beg her if he had to—to marry him. Whatever he needed to do, he would do it.
“Well?” Masterson threw down the pen. “What do you say?”
“I love Lilly and I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me.”
Masterson’s ire increased, his gaze more hostile than ever. “Forget it. She’s already left the asylum.”
Stunned, Morgan almost couldn’t speak. “Left? Where did she go?”
Masterson shrugged. “I have no idea. She took a carriage to Simple, so I hear. The train leaves in an hour. You might catch her if you hurry.”
Morgan stood, gave his father a last contemptuous glance, and that’s when he knew he’d finished forever at the asylum.
“Goodbye, Father.”
Morgan had no time to waste. He left the office at a run, hoping he could catch her at the train station.
* * *
Morgan returned to Tranquil View in the carriage a considerable time later. Fear rattled his composure, but determination fueled him. He hadn’t found Lilly. He’d gone to the train station and inquired, but no one at the station had seen her. The place certainly wasn’t large enough for her to get lost in the crowd. She would have been spotted buying a ticket. He would tear the asylum apart looking for her, and he didn’t care what his father thought.
Morgan didn’t have to go far before Nurse Summit stopped him the foyer. “Mr. Healy.”
“Is my father still here?”
“No, he left for home. He said he had business to attend to.”
Good. Perhaps he had come to his senses and would realize Patricia needed far more help than they could provide at home.
“I was just at the train station looking for Lilly. Do you know where she is?”
She placed her palms over her cheeks. “I went looking for her. Her coat and everything is still in her room. She wouldn’t have left.”
Morgan’s stomach dropped as real fear took hold.
Chapter 26
Lilly continued pacing the cell to keep warm, the scent of something not right still in the air. How long had she been here? She couldn’t be certain.
“Do you smell that?” Wilma asked suddenly.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
There had to be some way to escape. But how? She tested the door, but knew even the flimsy old locks would hold. They’d been built to withstand madness. Frustration filled Lilly. She couldn�
��t stand it. Staying here would mean death. Of that she could be certain. Mrs. Angel had used Wilma as bait for some reason or another. Other than the fact Mrs. Angel had always disliked her, why else would she lure anyone down here?
“It’s madness you know,” Wilma’s voice came loud and clear.
“What is?”
“We are mad and that’s why this is happening to us.”
“No.” Lilly sighed with frustration. “I’m not mad. And perhaps you aren’t either.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Can you help me get out of here? Out of this asylum?”
“I’ll do the best I can.” Lilly hoped she wasn’t lying. “I’m going to ask the ghosts for help.”
“Are you sure?”
“About what?”
“That it’s the ghosts you’re asking?”
“Who else?”
“You have to be sure it’s not the devil.”
Lilly hesitated. She rubbed her hands together. “Of course. I’ll be careful.”
At the same time, part of Lilly trembled with fear. She felt the evil drifting around the corners like smoke. She sniffed the air; foulness invaded. Lilly tried not to gag. She shuddered. Perhaps the evil knew she was here, that she wanted to escape and it wished to prey on her. Strength surged inside Lilly. She refused to back down, to allow the evil to invade. She glanced around the darkness, half expecting to see shadows, to see forms creeping and sulking. She rubbed her arms.
“Catherine are you there?”
“Who is Catherine?” Wilma asked.
“Catherine Renlow. A ghost.”
In the darkness, a shadow formed. Lilly saw the shadow shift, and turn toward her. Inky and barely darker than the blackest night, the shadow crept toward her. Head. Shoulders. The morphing shape didn’t feel like Catherine. It floated toward her. Fear rose as the shape’s aura sickened her. Her throat tightened and her stomach roiled.
“God, what are you?” Lilly whispered the question.
The shape didn’t answer. Lilly’s necklace warmed and sent a wave of comfort from the center. Lilly drew a deep breath and strength returned to her resolve. She wouldn’t falter or allow this evil to destroy her.
“What is happening?” Wilma said from her cell, her voice a wail.
“Whatever you see, resist it. Do not allow it to take your strength. Fight it!”
Lilly took her own advice and stepped forward toward the shape. “You cannot hurt me. You cannot hurt us. We are stronger than you. We are resistant and protected.”
The dark—cold, choking, and feral—surrounded Lilly. She pressed one hand to her chest over the warm necklace.
“I command you in the name of God,” Wilma said, “Leave us be!”
Still, the entity kept coming. Lilly stepped forward and shouted her frustration, her anger. “We command you to leave and go back where you came from. You’re not wanted here.”
The entity shrank back, swirled in a cloud of stygian dark until it slipped under the door and disappeared. Lilly almost sank to her knees, conscious of the extreme effort she’d made.
Catherine’s form replaced the shadow, her smiling face warm and welcoming. “Thank goodness, Lilly. You are safe.”
“Who is that talking?” Wilma asked, her voice shaky with terror.
“It’s all right, Wilma,” Lilly said. “It’s Catherine. She’s here now and we’re safe from that dark shape.”
Catherine moved closer, and with her presence the temperature in the cell felt colder yet. “I’m sorry to see you trapped here.”
“Can you help us?” Lilly asked.
“I will try and contact Morgan.”
Lilly’s heart sank. “He won’t be able to see you. He can’t see ghosts and doesn’t believe in them.”
“He’ll see me. I promise to do what it takes. Stay safe my friend.” Catherine’s form disappeared.
Lilly’s knees shook. “Catherine will help us, Wilma.”
Wilma’s voice trembled. “Are you certain? She isn’t of the devil?”
“No.”
Lilly could only hope the evil shape wouldn’t come back.
* * *
Morgan and Nurse Summit stopped in the lobby, but didn’t get far before a racket started at the lobby doors. Morgan’s mother staggered into the lobby, her face a mask of misery, and tears spilling down her cheeks. In seconds he took in her appearance, his mind shocked. Red stained the front of her dark rose dress, one sleeve torn at the shoulder. She didn’t wear a coat. Two nurses near the doors went to his mother before his feet would move.
“Oh, my Lord,” Nurse Summit whispered. “What’s happened?”
“Mother?” Morgan rushed to his parent, his heart constricting with dread. “Are you all right?” In the background he heard Nurse Summit asking the nurses to get a hot drink and blankets. He drew her into his arms and searched for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. No. I ....”
“Is that blood on your dress?” Her eyes looked glazed now, the distance in them frightening. “Mother? You’re scaring me. What happened? How did you get here and where is Father?”
“I stole the carriage. I ran for my life. Your sister ... oh, God help me.” She sobbed. “Your sister.”
Wind lashed at the building, a harsh reminder that winter still demanded their attention. Snow, lifted by the wind, swirled across the windows. Shadows seemed to march into the building, crowding and shoving.
Morgan’s stomach bottomed out. “What did Patricia do?”
His mother sobbed again and covered her face with her hands. “She ... when your father got home he tried talking to Patricia. I don’t know what he said, but I heard your father scream. I ran in and found him lying on the floor. She’d stabbed him in the heart with a kitchen knife.”
Morgan’s arms tightened around his mother as he hugged her close. He’d always been the strong one in the family, fully capable of dealing with anything life threw at him.
“Where is Patricia?” he asked, his voice choking.
“I ...” His mother’s whimper strangled the answer. “She’s dead, too. I ... when I heard the fight between Patricia and your father ... I brought a pistol from the study. Your father’s pistol. It was loaded. I—”
“Oh my God,” Nurse Summit whispered.
“I killed her.”
Morgan’s knees threatened to crater. Shock mixed with acceptance. He’d known, somewhere in the recesses of his mind that this sort of thing could happen.
A small crowd had gathered—nurses, and a couple of physicians with total shock written over their features.
“How ...” Morgan had to swallow around the huge lump in his throat. “Patricia was tied to the bed.”
“Your father let her go.”
“How did she get a knife again?”
“She slipped into the kitchen and got one. I know the cook put the other one away.” His mother’s eyes poured tears like a faucet, sobs of despair ripping her apart. “She told me last night, you know.”
“Told you what?” Morgan managed to say.
“Patricia said she killed all those women, and your father hid the evidence. When I confronted him, and he told me the bodies are in the basement. That’s where your father hides it all.”
Just when Morgan thought his world couldn’t become any smaller, any more dire, this news ripped that theory to shreds. He wanted to scream, to rage against everything that had fallen to pieces in the last few hours. Instead, he held his mother tight, knowing he couldn’t fix what was broken. His family had been torn asunder in a way it couldn’t be restructured. “You didn’t know until last night?” he asked.
His mother’s tears were impossible to deny. Somehow they’d both been duped, led down a terrible road by father and daughter. “Father was trying to cover up a crime. Cover up his daughter’s lunacy.” Whisperings around them caught his attention. He turned his gaze to those that had gathered around them. �
�Nurse Summit, ask someone to contact the sheriff.”
Nurse Summit nodded. “Of course.”
“Wait.” His mother caught his arm. “Your father said Lilly was to be the last murder before he put Patricia away for good. He told me this last night.”
“Did he say what he ... how he ....”
“He mentioned Mrs. Angel. He said she planned to take care of Lilly.”
Morgan hadn’t known his heart could go this low, that he could ache as he’d never ached before. He must find Lilly now. Morgan organized a search for Mrs. Angel while Nurse Summit took care of his mother. Several doctors and nurses followed his directions, realizing Masterson Healy was no longer their leader. The watchmen and women on the other floors also joined the hunt. No one had seen Mrs. Angel in some time.
Though his heart felt like it might break in two from the shock and grief of what had happened, nothing could hurt worse than knowing the woman he loved could be dead. Or even lying injured and needing his help. Instinct drove him toward Lilly’s room, hoping upon hope he might locate a clue or even that Mrs. Angel might have gone back there. He’d just reached the single-load hallway when he realized a figure stood at Lilly’s door.
The figure was solid, a woman wearing a white frill cap from a bygone era. Her eyes were hollowed out, a maw of darkness. Morgan knew what he saw couldn’t be a living being.
“Who are you?” he asked briskly.
“Catherine Renlow. I know where Lilly is and you must come immediately.”
* * *
Lilly leaned against the cold stone wall. She could feel the evil coming again. Somewhere. Somehow. She imagined others must have suffered as she did now in these cells. Wilma had stopped talking now, and that worried Lilly.
“Wilma.”
“Don’t talk to me unless you wish to repent.” The voice rasped, lower and harsher than Wilma’s. “You are a sinner. You must repent or be thrown into the fires of hell.”
Lilly rubbed her cold hands together and started to pace again. “Wilma, let’s not do this now. I’ll repent later. Now we have to survive this and find a way out. It’s imperative if Catherine cannot contact Morgan. We’re on our own.”
Shadows Wait Page 29
