So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

  A middle-aged man in a well-tailored gray business suit stood on her porch. “Sorry to bother you. I was told this house is for sale.”

  Grace bristled with suspicion. “I don’t know who told you that.”

  The man lifted a business card from his jacket pocket. “Man named Allen Sullivan. Nice guy. Met him at a gala in Manhattan a few months ago. He mentioned he had this house up for sale and that I should stop by and take a look if I was interested. So here I am.” His smile was friendly but Grace’s anger blinded her to his true intentions.

  She only saw a man callous enough to intrude on her grief.

  Her jaw clenched and without thinking, she snatched the card out of the man’s hand and shredded it to pieces. She tossed the remnants to the ground and met his eyes with a fierce look. “I don’t know who you think you are, buddy. But this is my house and it’s not for sale. Not now, not ever. Now, get the hell off my property.”

  Bewilderment flashed over his face. “I apologize, I didn’t realize he had already sold it.”

  “He didn’t,” she barked, getting in his face and poking her index finger into his chest. “But it’s mine now. How dare you come here and say that name to me? Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

  He staggered back a step, confused by her statement. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “He’s dead. They’re all dead.” She threw up her hands dramatically. “This house is full of nothing but dead people so you might as well get the hell away before you get sucked in like I did. Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with this place.”

  He stared at her like she had purple feathers sprouting out of her face. “Okay, okay. Sorry to bother you.”

  Without another word, he hurried back to his car and drove off. She watched him go, feeling like a fierce guard dog that had just frightened off an unwanted intruder.

  Then she realized how crazy she must have looked and panic shot through her. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she just told the man that the house wasn’t for sale? Or better yet, why hadn’t she told him to call her up in a month or two and that she would let him know then if she was willing to sell?

  Instead, she’d gone after his throat like a rabid coyote, overly defensive and mean. Cruel, even. That wasn’t who she was.

  Yet, despite her horror over how she had treated the stranger, relief that he was gone sailed in to comfort her. At least she had that. Odds were he wouldn’t be back, either.

  She stared down at the shredded pieces of her father’s business card and a sob built precariously inside her throat. Regretful tears stung her eyes as she knelt to pick up the mangled scraps.

  That had been a mistake, she realized as she piled the pieces in her palm and eyed them sadly. Maybe it was only a business card, but it was her father’s business card. And even though she had a few of them back home in Chicago, maybe even one in her wallet, it didn’t change the fact that she no longer had this one.

  As she hovered in ashamed silence, Ian pulled up in his van. She looked up when he exited the vehicle, embarrassed at the tears that fell down her cheeks. She wiped them away and rose to her feet, attempting a smile for him.

  “I don’t see your Proton Pack,” she joked, hoping he wouldn’t notice how fragile she was.

  But he did.

  “What’s wrong?” He charged up the porch steps. He saw she held something in her palm and, without waiting for her response, he reached over and pried her fingers apart.

  The sight of the shredded card confused him. “What’s this?”

  She stared at him miserably. “Have you ever imagined doing something completely irrational just to see what people will say?”

  He released her hand. “No.”

  “Never?” A laugh rose in her throat, brief and painful. More tears swam in her eyes as she looked down at her hand. “I think it’s natural for us, in a civilized society, to hold back our urges. We recognize the damage we can do, the inconvenience we can cause, by following our impulses. We can hurt other people so easily…”

  Ian lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me what happened, Grace.”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she tried to smile through it. “I assaulted a perfect stranger.”

  When his brows rose she laughed again, patting his arm reassuringly. “Okay, maybe assaulted is an exaggeration. But I did tear his card to pieces and verbally threaten him a bit.”

  “And why did you do that?”

  She sighed. “He thought the house was for sale. Apparently, he met my father a few months ago and they discussed it. The business card was my father’s.”

  Sympathy hit him as he swallowed her words. “I see.”

  She shrugged, trying to roll the pain and regret off her shoulders. “I overreacted, but what can I say? I was angry and hurt.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I told him the house was full of dead people.” She smacked her forehead, feeling foolish. “God, he must have thought I’d gone off my Xanax or something.”

  “Well, it wasn’t a lie. The dead people, that is.” The corners of his mouth lifted as he urged her to look at him again. “So you scared off some guy, big deal. You don’t want to sell the house, do you?”

  She shook her head, even as her words contradicted it. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure you’re not off your meds?”

  She smacked him on the arm, a smile teasing her lips. “Shut up. I’m not on any meds.”

  He looked thoughtful. “Being a doctor, you could probably get your hands on some good stuff. No one would blame you.”

  “I would blame me,” she corrected him, lifting her chin with pride. “I know what the side effects are of pill addiction. Trust me, it’s enough to scare you away from them for a lifetime.”

  “I was joking.” He tugged at her hair playfully, his hand lingering to cradle her cheek. “I like you a little bit crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.” She blinked, startled by the intense look that came into his eyes. Her smile fell as he shifted closer, his other hand trailing around her waist. She found it suddenly very hard to breathe. “But, hey, if you like crazy, I can do crazy.”

  His teeth flashed in a wicked grin a second before he kissed her, the act demanding and urgent. He couldn’t even comprehend what sparked the sudden need for it, but it was there, staring him in the face. Something about the contradiction of frailty and strength warring within her eyes fascinated him. It lured him in until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have a taste of her, to know what it felt like to have her skin beneath his hands and her breath over his.

  He wasn’t disappointed by her, nor by the way she reacted to him in an instant like brilliant wildfire. It ignited like a firework and hit them both with a stunning wave of ravenous heat.

  He dragged her against him as his fingers dove into her hair, reveling in the rich warmth of it. A strangled moan escaped her throat when he tightened his other hand on her waist possessively. She grasped at his back, fingers clenching over the shirt he wore until he thought she’d rip it to shreds from his very body.

  The more feral part of his nature demanded it, while the rest of him just knew he wanted her. At that point, nothing else mattered. The house, the ghosts, the investigation. He’d say to hell with it all in an instant if it meant he could have her.

  She gave in to the onslaught of emotions—the chaotic need, the righteous pride, the helpless surrender. The unexpected assault on her senses left her blinded with a desire she hadn’t even known she could feel, much less for him. For the man more arrogant than a king and as temperamental as a wild hornet defending its nest. He was capable of kindness, she knew that. But damn it all if she didn’t enjoy the fights and the irrefutable heat more.

  He broke the kiss, finding his hands lost in her hair and his senses equally lost in the fresh scent of her lavender soap. He pressed his lips to her forehead, needing a moment to brace himself, to regain some clarity of mind. His heart
beat like a stallion in his chest, racing against the pounding of hers.

  “Christ,” he murmured, lowering his hands to her forearms. He pulled away to look her in the eyes, stunned by what he had just done. But in no way was he sorry.

  “Christ is right.” She released a long, uneasy breath, her eyes wistfully dark and unsettled. “Why…”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He backed away slowly, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I have something to show you—”

  A loud slamming noise from inside the house caused them both to jump.

  “What was that?” Grace darted to the open front door, peering inside anxiously.

  Ian came up behind her. “Stay here. I’ll go look.”

  “Excuse me, this is my house. I’ll go.” She rushed inside and went straight to the living room, searching for the source of the sound. She heard Ian walking around the entryway and kitchen, but somehow, she knew they wouldn’t find whatever had made the noise inside the house.

  Her gut instinct proved right as she looked out the wide living room windows and spotted a woman teetering on the edge of the lonely little dock.

  “Oh, my God. Who the hell is that?”

  Ian approached, suspicion tightening his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  The woman was tall and willowy with long, coffee-colored hair and pale white skin. She faced away from them, her gaze set out to sea. Her body was draped in a Victorian era ivory gown splattered with dark stains. For a horrified moment, Grace wondered if it was blood.

  “Was she inside my house?” Grace panicked.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  He started out the back door and hesitated when the woman suddenly dove headfirst into the ice-cold waters of the harbor. “Shit.”

  Both he and Grace ran to the dock, wet leaves and branches crunching under their feet. Ian came to a stop along the shore, his eyes searching the water, while Grace made the more dangerous decision of tackling the crumbling dock.

  He called out to her in warning but she ignored him, adrenaline pushing her to the end of the dock. She fell to her knees and stared into the watery depths of the harbor.

  “Where did you go?” she whispered, filled with dread as she searched through the muddy water. She noticed there weren’t any ripples or bubbles, nothing to indicate that a woman had just jumped in.

  Was it an illusion? It seemed so real.

  Then she spotted a face within the murky water, and true fear paralyzed her. It swam up out of the darkness, the rest of the body emerging with it. Lanky, pale arms, white legs, blood splattered ivory gown, length of dark hair. The woman’s eyes were closed as though she were peacefully asleep.

  Or dead.

  “Ian,” Grace stammered, unable to breathe. Unable to move. Panic rose within her like a furious geyser, destroying her from the inside out. She thought she heard Ian approaching, thought she felt his footsteps vibrating over the shaky wood dock. She wanted to pull away, desperately grasped for the strength to flee, but it floated just out of reach. All she could do was stare helplessly into the water.

  The woman’s eyes shot open, revealing nothing but pitch-black corneas. Her face twisted in a malicious snarl, lips molded into a scream of true hatred.

  Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, Grace swore she could hear the piercing sound of the scream. Or, perhaps the scream she heard was her own.

  Ian grabbed her and pulled her back to land, back to safety. He let her cling to him as he led her up to the house. He realized it hadn’t been a woman at all. Rather, it had been one of the most stunning apparitions he had ever seen.

  Grace struggled for air as he brought her inside the house and to the sofa. She cried out, afraid of the deteriorating furniture. Instead, she stumbled into the kitchen where he caught her and settled her onto the floor.

  “What did you see?” he demanded urgently, framing her face with his hands. “Tell me before you rationalize it and forget it.”

  Her face was ghostly pale and her eyes darted back and forth, as if expecting a monster to jump out at any moment. He forced her to look at him, and she seemed to calm down.

  He repeated his question. “What did you see?”

  “The woman. In the water.” She let her head fall back against the cabinets behind her. Her breathing became easier as she shut her eyes and focused. She was safe now. The woman couldn’t hurt her.

  “What did she do?”

  “She screamed at me.” She rubbed her eyes feverishly, willing the images to go away. Wishing she had never gone out on the dock. “She was so angry, so violent…I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

  “I don’t imagine you have.” He watched her thoughtfully, regretfully. He wished he had seen it instead of her. But then again, maybe he didn’t want that image emblazoned on his mind. “I bet that was Mercy.”

  “What?” Grace let her hands fall as she gaped at him. “Really?”

  He nodded, running with the thought. “She was the right age, had the right type of clothing on. Not to mention the blood.”

  Grace swore under her breath as her mind reeled. “Why did she scare me like that? I thought we were supposed to help her?”

  “Maybe she’s pissed we haven’t been here for a while.” He settled back on his heels, feeling restless. “Either way, we both saw her, so you’re not crazy.”

  She stared at him, one eyebrow lifting. “Or maybe we’re both crazy.”

  Humor softened the worry on his face and he reached out to brush her bangs away from her eyes. “I told you, I like a little bit of crazy.”

  “You stupid bastard,” she exhaled, too weak to laugh.

  He grinned. “This coming from the crazy bitch.”

  “Touché.” She closed her eyes and released a long, slow sigh. The image of Mercy’s hollowed, empty gaze hovered just behind her eyelids, refusing to leave. “What were you going to show me before Mercy decided to take a dip in the harbor?”

  Ian hesitated. How in the world could he show her the thing that haunted her bedroom after what they just witnessed?

  “Nothing important.” He got to his feet and helped her up, making a mental note to delete the video Alex had sent him.

  “Okay.” She teetered on her feet unsteadily, flustered when he placed his hands on her hips to help her. She slowly backed away from him and met his eyes. “Well, I have something to show you.”

  When she brought him to the living room and he saw the damaged furniture, his eyes darkened with concern. He ran his hands over the warped surface of the coffee table, traced the tattered seams on the sofa, and inspected the deep gouges in the grandfather clock. For a few moments, he said nothing as he took in the weight of what it all meant. Understanding the horrific reality they were facing made him sick to his stomach.

  “Well, what do you think?” Grace asked, chewing on her thumbnail nervously.

  “The damage happened so quickly,” he murmured, running his fingers down the cracked glass.

  “The spirits did this, didn’t they?” She cupped her hands under her elbows, shifting her weight. “You said they were probably attached to the furniture and that was how they broke free of the basement, but did you think they could cause this kind of damage?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve heard of spirits possessing inanimate objects before, but never to the point that their possession reversed the signs of aging.”

  “Only to reverse it yet again when they no longer possessed the pieces.”

  He faced her, rubbing his chin in thought. “If this is any indication of their power, then we’re in trouble.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “It’s entirely possible that they are capable of possessing a person as well,” he theorized, beginning to pace. “Mercy and Ray are both clearly strong enough to do it.”

  Grace blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. “Wait, you mean they could possess me?”

  “Any of us.” Ian saw the panic in her eyes and tried to backtrack. “Look, since it ha
sn’t happened already I think we’re okay. Don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaking out.” She stared him down defensively. “It’s just that I’m already having a hell of a time accepting that I just saw a ghost in the water, and now you’re telling me that possession is real and that it can happen, too.”

  He shrugged. “After everything you’ve seen, does it really surprise you?”

  She considered his words, realizing he was right. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

  “I’m going to call Alex. Get him and Jackie back over here.”

  Grace nodded and wandered to the living room windows while he talked on the phone. She stared out at the harbor, at the dock, and did her best to stand tall. To stand strong.

  That little sliver of strength was all she had left to cling to now that the spirits reigned.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jackie took a deep breath as she re-entered the Sparrow House for the first time since Nellie’s death. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect since Ian said the activity had escalated. Between the possessed furniture and the apparition of Mercy, things had taken a turn for the worse. If Grace was seeing ghosts, then she knew she better prepare for an all-out war with them.

  Alex hovered behind her, protective and alert. Her eyes scaled the walls of the entryway, taking in the white plaster. She still saw remnants of Mr. Lockwood’s messages and the miserable hope and pain he carried with him each time he visited clung to the words. She released a long breath and forced the emotion out, breathing in deeply again as she shifted her focus to the staircase.

  Sally sat on the third step, hugging her knees tight to her chest. Fear radiated off her, flickering like dark shadows across her features. Jackie sent a reassuring smile but knew it did little to help. Until they were rid of Ray’s spirit and the others that plagued the house, Sally would be tormented by them and kept from her father.

  “What do you see?” Alex asked, his hand falling over her shoulder. She closed her eyes at the warmth of his touch, absorbing the strength it gave her. The peace of mind.