So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

  “I’m going back to the hotel. I can’t focus here.” Alex looked to them regretfully. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Bye, Alex.” Grace watched him grab his camera and take off. They could hear the van drive away, leaving them alone.

  Ian ran a hand through his hair tiredly. “This just keeps getting stranger.”

  Grace shivered. “You can say that again.”

  “So you’re sure none of these women look like the face you saw in the water?”

  “I’m sure.” She rubbed her eyes, the woman’s face burned hideously into her brain. “Trust me, I won’t be forgetting it.”

  He reached into one of the unopened boxes they had dragged upstairs from the basement and pulled out another small stack of photographs, tossing a few in front of her. “Check those.”

  She began sifting through the aged, glossy images dispassionately. The search was mentally exhausting, especially since she knew she would recognize the face the moment she saw it.

  It was one of those things she could never remove from her mind, no matter how hard she tried. No amount of psychotherapy from someone like Rick could convince her that she did not see what she knew she saw.

  A real ghost.

  She came across a photograph in near perfect condition from the bottom of the stack Ian had given her. She stared at it as her world came to a slow and painful stop.

  The eyes were different, not black as night like before. These eyes were lighter, filled with life. But even that life couldn’t hide the despair. Dark hair pulled back in a traditional updo framed a plain, emotionless face. Only the eyes seemed to display any sort of feeling, and even that was masked by poor photography and lighting. The dress she wore was lacy and long, not fancy but not paltry either. It covered almost all the skin of her body except for her face and hands. Those hands were clasped in her lap so tight that Grace imagined her knuckles must have turned white.

  Ian noticed her staring intently at the photograph and knew instantly it was the one.

  “Grace?” He nudged her, bringing her back to reality.

  She tore her eyes from the image and handed it to him.

  He turned it over, examining the scrawled handwriting on the back. “Miss Mercy Loraine Sullivan, 1911.”

  Grace suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “Well, now we know for sure.”

  “Yes, we do.” He set the photograph aside, unable to look at it any longer. It unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. “Why don’t we take a break? Put on some coffee or something.”

  “Or wine.” She accepted his hand after he got to his feet. “Wine is better.”

  He went into the kitchen and pulled out her last bottle of Merlot. “Your stash is running a little low here, Doc.”

  “Shit.” She sighed and leaned over the kitchen island jadedly. “That’s the worst news I’ve heard all day.”

  “You mean other than your ex knowing more about the house than you did?” Ian poured them both glasses and wandered over to hand one to her. He watched his words sink in as he sipped.

  “I was trying to forget about that.”

  “What were you doing with that guy, anyway?”

  She shook her head and downed half her wine, feeling miserable. She set the glass down on the butcher block counter and stared at it sadly. “I don’t even know. My parents liked him.”

  Surprise flashed over Ian’s face. “I’m shocked anybody likes him.”

  She managed a small laugh. “He has his moments, but for the most part he’s a bonafide prick.”

  “Good riddance, then.” He stared at her intently, the desire to reach out and touch her again hitting him like a punch to the gut. Since the incident on the dock she had shied away from him. He didn’t think he could bear holding back any longer.

  She sipped more wine, lost in thought. “I wonder what my father told him about this place. And why he told Rick but not me. That’s what hurts the most, really. My father trusted Rick with his secret more than his own daughter.”

  “Maybe he wanted Rick’s help selling the place,” Ian ventured, though she shook her head and shot him a dry look.

  “Rick doesn’t know the first thing about real estate. Most likely, my father wanted Rick’s help keeping the house a secret from me. If I ever got too close to learning the truth, Rick could convince me otherwise. He always liked convincing me that what I wanted and believed wasn’t what was best.”

  Anger flared in Ian’s eyes. “You’re making me wish I had kicked his ass when I had the chance.”

  She laughed, delighted by the thought. “He wouldn’t fight you. He’d just crumple into a fetal position and try and reason his way out of it.”

  “Unfortunately for him, I’m too bullheaded to listen.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” She tapped her glass against his before polishing off the rest of the wine. The instant she set it on the counter, he filled it up again.

  “So how are you adjusting to seeing ghosts these days? You seem to be handling it better than I thought you would.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s been a real trip. Loads of fun.”

  “I’m serious.” He looked her in the eyes. “How are you doing?”

  She tried to reign back the feelings of anxiety that crept in at his words. “I’m not sleeping. But who would, right? After what we saw…”

  “But you still won’t leave the house.”

  She grimaced, knowing he would think she was ridiculous. “I can’t leave her.”

  “Sally?”

  “She’s a part of me now.” Her eyes filled, bright with tears. “She needs me.”

  The heartache on her face destroyed him. “Then we’ll just have to get to work and save her.”

  For a moment, she said nothing. She only watched him, amazed and frustrated and stunned by him all at once.

  “I just don’t get it.”

  “Don’t get what?”

  She shook her head sadly. “You stand there like you’re the answer to all my problems…like you have nothing better to do than to help me. How can that be? You don’t know anything about me.”

  Frustration hardened his features. “I do know you.”

  “You know that I lost my parents. That I’m a doctor who now believes in the afterlife, and a lifetime atheist who has no choice but to accept that there is something more to this death thing than just death.” Her voice cracked, and she brushed away a tear, embarrassed. “You know that I’m a goddamn mess, but not much else. So why do you stay?”

  “Why can’t you just accept that I do?” He moved closer to her, reaching up to hold her face in his hands. The tears that spilled from her eyes haunted him.

  “I’m too literal. I can’t just accept something, you know that,” she managed, her pulse jumping at his touch. “Accepting you has been the hardest of all…knowing that eventually you’ll have to go.”

  “I won’t leave you in this house alone,” he told her, needing her to understand that. “Not for as long as you want me here.”

  “Okay.” Relief washed over her as she leaned in to brush her lips over his, her hands rising to take hold of his wrists. Her fingers slid over his skin tenderly, her heart lost in the emotions rioting within her. She felt nearly mad with it, like nothing was the same in the world anymore. It had all changed. And she had changed right along with it.

  Now she was with him, teetering on that slippery border of lust and love. It would only lead to heartache…it had to. But she knew it was impossible to go back to what was. To what might have been had she never come to Mad Rock Harbor.

  Ian’s pulse thundered within him, as consumed as she was. The house was having an effect on them, he was sure of it. Never before had he felt anything so strongly, so fiercely, the way he did at that moment. Yet, despite his fears, he couldn’t deny that being with her felt so impossibly right.

  Jackie would’ve said it was fate.

  “I want you,” he groaned, crushing her mouth with his. She buckled against him, knees wea
k even as her hands held strong, gripping his arms like they were her only anchor.

  He embraced the contradictions of her. The strong and the weak. The cynic and the believer. She was suddenly more real to him than any other woman alive.

  His hands slid into her hair and dragged her head back so he could expose her neck. She cried out as his lips trailed along her skin, her fingers digging into the flesh of his arms. When he suddenly lifted her by the hips onto the island, she nearly forgot where she was, who she was. Instead, she lost herself in the feeling of his hands dragging aside her clothes to lay claim of her. To remove all boundaries, all restrictions, that had been keeping them apart.

  There would be no more holding back.

  She lifted his shirt over his head and kissed him again, feverish to the taste of wine on his tongue and the feel of his bare skin touching her own. Her hands traced over the dark, winding tattoos that lay patterns over the skin of his shoulders and back.

  He pressed eagerly against her, shocking her system with a hot, vibrant need. She hadn’t realized just how badly she wanted this, how badly she needed it. Now it seemed like the only thing left in the world worth living for.

  “Please,” she moaned, her head falling back as he tore off what remained of her clothing and exposed her.

  He wasted no time and drove himself into her, and they fell gloriously off the cliff’s edge of sanity and into oblivion.

  ACT 3: SOLACE

  I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.

  —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Let us go in; the fog is rising.

  —Emily Dickinson

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The cold chills of impending winter blew in as November entered its third week. It was milder on the coast of Massachusetts compared to what Grace was used to in Chicago, but the wind still carried that distinctive, frosty bite. It meant that within no time, snow would crumble out of the heavens and life would recede into a state of unavoidable hibernation.

  For now, autumn was still lingering over the Eastern Seaboard. Withered leaves lay neglected on the brittle grass of her front yard and over the walkway. She couldn’t muster the energy to bother raking. There were much more important things to do first.

  Like exorcise a haunted house.

  She sat on the front steps, a mug of coffee in her hand and her favorite black pea coat wrapped securely around her body. Jackie relaxed beside her, less concerned with the chilly breeze in jeans and a red knit sweater.

  Both watched the road, anxious for Ian and Alex to return.

  “They’ve been gone for a while.” Grace passed her mug between her hands and bit her lower lip impatiently.

  “Maybe they stopped and got lunch.” Jackie sipped her Earl Grey tea, serene on the outside despite the worry that dragged at her heart. She couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling she’d gotten that morning, warning her that something bad was coming.

  Something she would be powerless to stop.

  Grace set her coffee aside so she could lean back on her hands. She let her head roll over her shoulders and closed her eyes. “These friends of theirs better be able to help us. I don’t like wasting time.”

  “Time is such a relative thing,” Jackie replied easily, winding one of her ebony curls around her finger. “A minute for us means nothing to the spirit world. Where they are, time has no meaning.”

  Grace sighed. “Well, it has meaning here. I’ve been in this house for well over a month. I don’t know how much longer I can stick around.”

  “I thought you said you couldn’t leave?” Jackie turned to her, dark eyes curious.

  “I can’t…” Grace agreed with a frown. “But if we succeed in helping Sally, then I see no reason why I can’t go back to Chicago. Hopefully, whatever hold the house has on me will be broken by then.”

  Jackie’s lips upturned in a warm, understanding smile. “Even if you do go back, it won’t be the same. You’ll always long for this place.”

  Grace looked away, uncomfortable. “Will I?”

  A few moments of thoughtful silence passed before Jackie spoke again. “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to worry you, but I think you should know.” She reached for Grace’s hand and held it tightly in her own, urging Grace to meet her eyes.

  “What could worry me more than evil spirits living in my house?” Grace joked, though her voice held little humor.

  “The truth of why your entire family is trapped in this house.”

  Grace blinked, unsure she’d heard her right. “Wait, my whole family? What do you mean?”

  “Every person of Sullivan blood is bound to this house in some way. They were in the furniture, now I see them in the walls. They live and breathe within them like the blood in our veins. Some have figured out how to come and go, but they always return. I guess you could say they are just as addicted to the house in death as they were in life.”

  “Why?” A fist clenched tight around Grace’s heart. “What is it about the house that keeps us here?”

  Sadness cast a shadow over Jackie’s face. “I’m not entirely sure. I think it has to do with Ray and Mercy. Sally, who is not a Sullivan, remains here because her death was sudden and tragic. But she’s not why the others stay. I think Ray is holding them here, drawing them in like moths to a flame.”

  “That’s demented.” Grace swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “What does he gain by all this?”

  “Power.” Jackie’s shoulders lifted and fell as she sighed. “Control. I don’t really know. All I do know is that we need to remove him and Mercy from the house if your family is to ever know true peace.”

  Grace absorbed her friend’s words, dissecting them quietly. A sob hitched in her throat as the realization hit her. “That would mean my father is here.”

  “He is here, from time to time,” Jackie confirmed. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up that you might see him. I don’t know if he’ll reach out to you.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Grace looked behind her frantically, as if she would see him standing in the front doorway. There was nothing there but a few desolate leaves scattered along the porch.

  “I would imagine he thinks it will hurt you more than help. He wants you to heal, Grace. Not dwell on his death.”

  Grace swallowed the pain that came over her, trying to take comfort in that. It was something he would do. He had always been wise that way.

  “What happens if we get rid of Ray and Mercy, but nothing changes? What if every time I try and leave, I suffer from the panic attacks again, the anxiety? I don’t think I can handle that.”

  Jackie squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Have faith, darling. God works in mysterious ways.”

  Grace sighed. She’d always hated that phrase. Then again, much of what she used to think was reality had been turned on its head. What made this any different?

  She managed a strained smile as she met Jackie’s eyes. “If you say so.”

  At last, Ian and Alex pulled up in their van, another car trailing behind them. Both vehicles came to a stop at the curb and Grace tried to hide the relief she felt when she saw Ian. He hopped out of the passenger seat, tall and lean and dressed all in black, and she had the crushing realization that she cared about him. A lot. Definitely more than what was safe.

  It terrified her, and at the same time thrilled her, a dangerous combination.

  Ian avoided looking at the house, knowing Grace was there. It bothered him how much he missed her, even though it had only been a handful of hours. His pride had him grabbing a few things out of the van instead.

  He closed the van door and walked to the car that had followed them, nodding to his friend Aubrey. They went way back to the days when he and Alex had first started ghost hunting. She was a practicing witch, deeply in tune with the spirit world. She’d helped them with research on investigations before, but this was the first time they sought her renowned expertise as a witch.

&nbs
p; He didn’t know the man she brought with her, but something about him bothered Ian. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he had a feeling the man had ulterior motives for wanting to come to the house. Motives other than to be the sixth person they would need for the séance Aubrey suggested they perform.

  For the time being, he figured he’d reserve his judgment.

  Jackie waved to Alex as he slipped out of the van, and he wasted no time racing up the pathway to greet her.

  “My lady.” With a slight bow of his head, he extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. Her answering smile was cut off by a quick and affectionate kiss. “I missed you.”

  She slipped away from him easily, sending him a teasing look. “You never left, in spirit.”

  Her eyes wandered to where Ian was busy exchanging words with the occupants of the other car. She watched him turn around and walk up the pathway, the other two leaving their plain white sedan behind to follow him.

  All at once, confusion and recognition hit her like a brick to the face.

  “Are you okay?” Alex asked.

  Anger contorted her features, something he had never seen before. “No.”

  Dominic approached, a sly grin playing over his hard-edged face. “There’s my girl. I figured you would be here.”

  The short, curvy redhead draped in an elaborate black and purple dress beside him began to laugh, the sound more spiteful than friendly. “Oh please, is it any surprise? She goes where the spirits are.”

  Jackie had the sudden and desperate wish to crawl into a hole and disappear. Instead, she said a quick, silent prayer for strength and faced her rival with as much politeness as she could manage. “It’s lovely to see you, Aubrey.”

  “Wait, you know them?” Alex asked, staring back and forth between Jackie and the others.

  She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Dominic is an…old friend. He and I met Aubrey two years ago when we found ourselves in Salem.” She turned to her ex-lover dispassionately. “I didn’t realize the two of you stayed in touch.”