So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

  She nodded, but sobs ached in her throat and her body weakened from the rushing onslaught of grief. The grief of parents who had lost their only child, and the torment of the daughter who desperately wanted to find them in death.

  She was suddenly grateful for Alex’s presence. For his acceptance. Never had she met anyone who accepted what she was, and what she saw, so easily.

  Her voice was breathy, anxious, as she spoke. “I know what happened.”

  “Tell me.” Alex loosened his protective grip on her arms, concerned at how the visions weakened her and sorry there was so little he could do to help.

  Jackie sighed, releasing the worst of the emotional energy from her body. She brushed aside the tears and met his eyes. “The little girl died right here after falling from the balcony. Her father has been searching for her for so long. He writes his pet name for her on the walls, hoping she will see it. But the monster is keeping them apart…”

  Alex instinctually stared at the walls, though he could see nothing but white plaster. “What does it say?”

  “My little sparrow, over and over again…” Jackie said softly, reaching up with her right hand to lightly touch Alex’s face, to turn him back to her. She needed the physical contact to bring her back to reality, away from the little girl’s nightmarish existence.

  The urge to kiss him flooded her senses as she stared into the soothing grass green of his eyes, and she realized it was the perfect solution. “Don’t read too much into this, please.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, craving the distraction the kiss offered. Her intent had been one of innocence, but she realized her mistake the instant he responded to her.

  At first, only shock registered in his brain. Then urgency blasted through it, taking the lead. He framed her face with his hands and deepened the kiss, his mouth roaming over hers with a vibrant heat and eagerness she hadn’t been expecting.

  All thoughts successfully fled her mind as she held onto him, embracing the thrill like it was her last. For all she knew, it could be. And she was never one to not enjoy a thrill when it presented itself.

  When he released her, her eyes fluttered open lazily, her lips still parted. He thought she looked like a beautiful, stunning miracle. His mouth spread in a crooked grin. “I think we should do that more often.”

  She burst into laughter, shaking with it as she rested her head against his shoulder and savored the feeling of his arms around her. It was such a comfort to be with him, unlike anything she had ever experienced. Part of her wished it never had to end, but in her heart, she knew it did. Nothing was ever permanent in her life, except her faith and her own spirit. People came and went, that was just how it was. He would be no different.

  For that reason, she knew she had to keep things casual.

  “I’m going to make breakfast, and then we can talk about Sally.”

  “Who’s Sally?” Alex asked as Jackie rose to her feet.

  She smiled at him, her eyes still wet with tears. “The little sparrow.”

  * * *

  “She died in the house?” Grace frowned, fork filled with scrambled eggs held just before her mouth. She lowered it, suddenly not feeling hungry. “That’s…morbid.”

  “It was a tragic accident,” Jackie affirmed, slathering jelly on a piece of wheat toast. “But a tragedy nonetheless.”

  Ian looked thoughtful. “If we can find out more information on who these other spirits are then we might figure out what they want and why they’re here.”

  “Yeah, we need to figure out who the woman was that got tortured in the basement,” Alex added. “And who the bastard was that hurt her.”

  “Well, we can look through those photographs again and see if we find anything,” Grace offered, earning an appreciative smile from Jackie.

  “That’s a splendid idea.”

  Ian eyed her curiously. “This is strange coming from you. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Did you hit your head?”

  Grace shot him a heated look. “Humility, remember?”

  He looked impressed and patted her hand cheerfully. “Good. Well, I think you and I should take a trip down to the local courthouse and see what records they have on the house and who lived here. We have one name now, Sally. Let’s find out more about her.”

  She nearly choked on her eggs. “Seriously? That sounds like a lot of work.”

  “What, do you have something better to do?”

  She swallowed with a frown. “I figured you guys would want to do another investigation or something.”

  “We will, but not today. I want to learn more about the house before we go any further.”

  Grace sighed, but felt herself giving in. “Fine. Just let me go shower.” She got up from the table, dumped her plate in the sink, and disappeared upstairs.

  Ian noticed Alex watching him with a goofy grin. “What?”

  “You really are hot for the doctor, aren’t you?”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed as Jackie giggled. “I’m hot for the investigation. And just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

  Alex held his hands up in peace. “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it.”

  “Sure, you are.” Ian got up and left the room, irritated that it was so obvious. What the hell was wrong with him? She was a hot mess of problems and ridiculously high maintenance. Not to mention she was the queen of skeptics, in denial about anything and everything that was happening to them. How could he ever enjoy the company of a woman like that?

  But the truth was, he did. He didn’t like to admit it, but he knew there was something about her that drew him in, snared like a worm on a hook. Which was probably exactly what he’d be if she sunk her claws into him. The woman was insane, out of her mind delusional and riddled with more emotional problems than an episode of Dr. Phil. No one had time to deal with someone like that. Much less him.

  He waited for her in the entryway, brooding in silence. When she eventually came down the stairs, he glanced up and faltered at the sight of her. The sun poured in from the windows, glowing over her face and bringing out the chestnut in her hair that hung loose to her shoulders. She’d slipped into faded jeans and a comfortable, white button up top with the sleeves casually rolled up. Gray eyes regarded him with the slightest hint of insecurity, of hesitation.

  In that instant, he realized that she really was beautiful. A troubled, haunted sort of beauty, but beauty all the same.

  Damn her for it.

  Grace came down the last step, one eyebrow lifted. “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  He tried not to touch her as he opened the front door and ushered her through, grumbling under his breath as they headed to the van. Grace climbed into the passenger seat and folded her hands awkwardly in her lap, unsure what to do with them.

  When he hopped into the driver’s seat, he seemed to lighten up a bit.

  “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll take you out to lunch,” he told her as he started up the van and pulled out onto the street.

  Grace tried not to smile and failed. “Don’t you mean if you’re nice, I will let you take me out to lunch?” She shifted in her seat so she could see him better. “Don’t forget that I can still pull the plug on all of this.”

  “But you won’t,” Ian replied confidently.

  “Once again, you sound so damn sure of yourself,” she mused, poking him in the shoulder with her index finger. “That head of yours is so big I’m surprised you fit in the car.”

  “Coming from the woman with an attitude the size of a city bus.”

  She smiled. “I have no regrets.”

  He looked at her, more amused than he wanted to admit. “I have a feeling you’ll turn that attitude around once we get some answers on the house.”

  “If we even find anything.”

  Moments later, they pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse. She eyed the ornate government building in irritation, part of her hoping their search proved fruitless
just so she could shove it back in his smug face.

  Ian parked the van and hopped out, making his way up the steps without even waiting for her.

  She scrambled out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut, her temper sparking as he raced off. “Why’d you even drag me along if you’re just going to leave me behind?”

  Ian pulled open the large wooden door of the building, motioning for her to get inside. “Hurry up.”

  She shot him an annoyed look as she passed over the threshold, upset that he could mess with her temper that easily.

  “Where to?” She eyed the high-ceilinged, grand hall of a room that had a small reception desk off to the side and several doors lining the beautifully painted walls.

  Ian asked the receptionist for directions and then took off again, leaving Grace to race after him. They ended up inside a library with historical town records stored in small file cabinets and in books on numerous wooden shelves. In the middle of the room was a row of empty tables.

  Without a word, Ian went to a specific shelf and began pulling down oversized books, handing them to Grace. She awkwardly tried to balance them in her arms and ended up toppling them onto one of the tables.

  With a grunt, she sat down and waited for Ian to join her. At last, he took a seat and reached for the first book.

  “These are the property records. It should show the transfer of the title on the house over the years, who owned it originally, and who it was passed on to,” he explained, thumbing through the pages eagerly.

  Grace rested her chin in the palm of her hand and watched him, sarcasm in full swing. “Fascinating.”

  Ian ignored her as he found the right page and scanned the addresses. “Here it is.”

  “What does it say?”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “First evidence of title was in January of 1860 when the house was built. A man named Francis Lockwood owned it. Then in June of 1866 the property was transferred over to a man named Carter Sullivan.”

  Grace blinked. “That’s my last name.”

  “Odds are it was a distant relative of yours who tortured that woman in the basement,” Ian theorized, watching her closely. He expected to see denial flash over her face, but instead she only sighed.

  “Well, let’s find out who this bastard is, then.” Grace reached for another of the books marked as death records and began skimming through it, searching for her last name. Minutes later, she found out that Carter Sullivan had died in 1889 of tuberculosis. His wife died not long after of pneumonia.

  Out of curiosity, she checked the records from 1865 to 1866. When she found the name Sally Lockwood, her heart fluttered with recognition and emotion. Was this the little girl who had died in her home? The girl who, according to the others, still resided there?

  She started to show Ian, but instead closed the book and set it aside. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to talk about Sally at that moment. In an odd way, the subject was personal to her. Sharing it would only make it more real, and that thought terrified her.

  She opened another book filled with scanned newspaper articles and tried not to let Sally’s face creep into her mind.

  An hour passed as they both did their own silent searching. When Ian suddenly tensed across the table, Grace perked up with interest. His hands gripped another book filled with newspaper clippings that the receptionist had suggested.

  “What’d you find?”

  Ian ignored her for a moment longer as he hurriedly scanned over the article, dated October 1912. Then he slapped the book down on the table and looked at her in triumph. “I think I found our tortured girl.”

  “Seriously?” Grace grabbed the book and skeptically read the headline of the article herself. “Father and daughter disappear under suspicious circumstances. Police have no leads.”

  “There is no record of either of them being dead,” Ian added, pointing to the death records book he had just referenced.

  “Ray and Mercy Sullivan,” Grace murmured, reading the names from the article. She looked at him. “Maybe the record just got lost.”

  “Unlikely.” He flipped to another article written twenty years after the disappearances and began to read out loud. “The greatest mystery to ever descend upon Mad Rock Harbor…Sparrow House remains empty, still no clues as to what happened to Ray Sullivan and his daughter, Mercy. The Sullivan family, in understandable fashion, avoids the house.”

  “So, what? You think he tortured and killed her in the basement, buried her, and then fled?”

  Ian tossed the book aside. “That’s a possibility. And when he died, he became trapped in the hell he had forced her to endure in life.”

  She shuddered involuntarily, the heavy weight of it all closing in on her. “If this is true, then what are we supposed to do to fix my house?”

  A dark smile tightened his face. “We call him out by name, and we force him out.”

  Grace opened her mouth to speak, only to pause as Nellie entered the records room with a cheerful smile.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to come here,” Nellie said brightly as she approached their table. She looked comfortable in her usual faded jeans and plaid button up shirt.

  Seeing her neighbor cheered Grace more than she would have expected. “Ian thought we should do some research on the house and my family.”

  Nellie nodded approvingly at Ian. “That should be helpful. How did the investigation go last night? I’ve heard Halloween can be a flurry of activity.”

  “It can and was.” Ian shut the book he was looking at and watched Nellie closely. “I’d hoped you’d come by and help us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know what kind of help I’d be.” Nellie waved the comment off with a laugh. “Besides, I didn’t want to intrude on all the fun you young people were having.”

  One of Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yes, fun,” she mumbled sarcastically, though she caught Ian’s eye and he grinned.

  “Boatloads of fun.” He rose to his feet and began gathering up the books. “But it’s probably time we head back. I think we found what we came here for.”

  “I’m just heading to the market. Why don’t you come with me and get something nice to cook for dinner tonight?”

  “Are you going to come by for dinner?” Grace asked, rising from her chair to help Ian with the books.

  Nellie shook her head. “Oh, no. I have so much to do at home.”

  Grace’s face fell, but she pushed aside her disappointment. “Okay. Hey, have you heard the story about Ray and Mercy Sullivan?”

  “Of course, child. It’s been a hundred years, but most of us in Mad Rock Harbor have heard that story.”

  Ian replaced the books on the shelves and came up beside Grace. “What’s the story?”

  An odd eagerness brightened Nellie’s features. “They say he used to beat the poor girl senseless after her mother died. No one wanted to intervene, so they let her suffer for ten long years. Then one day, they both disappeared into thin air. Neither of them were ever seen again.”

  “What do you think happened to them?” Grace crossed her arms, feeling a sudden chill.

  Nellie smiled sadly. “Can’t say. But one thing’s for certain…they’re both dead now.” She patted Grace on the shoulder and left the room.

  Grace released a long, tired breath, and looked up at Ian. “Does something seem off about her to you?”

  He shrugged, his expression troubled. “Not really. But I don’t know her as well as you do.”

  “And even I don’t know her very well,” Grace agreed, still feeling cold. She rubbed her arms and started for the door. “Whatever, let’s go back. At least we have something to go on now.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “So, where are you from?”

  “Earth.” Jackie tossed a tennis ball across the grassy area behind the Sparrow House, smiling as Gatsby chased after it on short, stubby legs. He kicked up dry leaves as he went, releasing the scent of autumn into the air. Nearby, the cool water of the
harbor lapped ashore, the hazy rays of the afternoon sun shimmering over its surface.

  “Oh, that’s funny, I thought you were a fellow Martian like me.” Alex tucked his hands into his jeans pockets, unable to take his eyes off her. Her body was draped in a cotton dress that hugged her waist and tied at her neck, her shoulders and arms covered in a burgundy wool sweater. Though they were surrounded by autumn on the Eastern Seaboard, the cerulean blue color of her dress reminded him of the warm waters of the Caribbean. As did her exotic scent of burnt sugar and the dark honey of her eyes that seemed to stare right past the skin of his face and into the recesses of his mind.

  She smiled at him, and he got the sense she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Would you like me to be a Martian?”

  Gatsby bounded up to her and dropped the ball at her feet. She bent down for the ball and tossed it again, her laughter filling the air as she watched him dart off.

  Alex watched the dog get distracted by a bird, leaving the forgotten ball behind. “Do you have a job? A family? Friends?”

  “You’re my friend, aren’t you?” she asked, winking at him before suddenly kicking off her shoes and bolting toward the harbor. She laughed as she dipped her toes in the water, enjoying the sharp, frigid bite and the shiver it sent along her skin.

  Alex let out an unsteady breath as he watched the sun flicker off the rippling water, setting her aflame with light. She’d floated in like a renegade leaf riding the wind to more exciting places than the tree she must have once called home. Why he was obsessed with learning the truth about her past, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he knew it would validate her existence somehow, prove that she was human and not a mirage that would soon slip through his grasp.

  A mirage that radiated joy, spontaneity, mystery…

  Jackie returned to the shore, embracing Gatsby as he joined her by the water.

  Alex approached, unwilling to let her dodge his questions again. “What’s it like to see spirits everywhere?”

  Jackie’s smile softened, and she rose to her feet as she considered. “Chaotic.”