Walnut Grove House

by Alexie Aaron

  “You’re a good man, Daniel Sullivan.”

  Daniel smiled and sunk through the floor.

  Jesse sat up. “North, south, east then west? Or was it west then east?” he questioned.

  “North, south, east then west,” Murphy said, moving through the outer wall of the attic.

  “I told you to stay with Cid.”

  “I don’t always do as I’m told. I do what is right,” Murphy professed. “What are you doing?”

  “I freed Jon’s heart and placed it inside his remains. I have Daniel’s lungs in Wayne’s shirt. I was cautioned by Daniel to wait for you before releasing the acolytes.”

  “Did you ever find their remains?” Murphy asked.

  “No.”

  “Do we think this is important?” Murphy voiced.

  “We don’t know?”

  “You’ve been claimed by death.”

  “Briefly.”

  “Take a moment, close your eyes, and listen.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen Mia do this. She reaches out into the universe with her question. Beyond that, I don’t know what happens.”

  Jesse set the flannel-wrapped bundle down and let his arms go slack. He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing until he could fit his entire question in the time of his inhale. Should I release the acolytes? And on the exhale, Do I need to find their remains first?

  Before his closed eyes the blackness receded until all he could see was white. It watered his eyes, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the light that had assaulted him when he had opened the north box.

  Should I release the acolytes? he repeated.

  A voice that was neither male nor female answered him, “Yes. East then west. You do not need to find their remains. There is only what is left in the box to bury. Take that and bury it with the other remains in the walnut grove. Go in peace, Jesse Holden.”

  Jesse opened his eyes.

  Murphy looked at him.

  “We don’t need to find the remains, but we do need to bury what we find in the boxes in the graveyard you found in the walnut grove.”

  “East then west,” Murphy said, turning Jesse’s body eastward.

  It took a few moments because the east box didn’t have flooring to walk, and then crawl, on as he lost headroom. Jon’s original pathway to the boxes had been ripped up by the last crew who insulated the attic. Jesse had to straddle the joists, moving slowly as to not lose his balance. He reached the box, and the first of the two remaining keys didn’t fit. The second key did, and he carefully turned the lock. The box opened to expose a dark spongy mass. Jesse took off his undershirt and poked and pried with the key until the gray mass was released from the box. He laid it in the undershirt and carefully turned around.

  Manifesting behind Murphy was a very angry woman covered only partly in a ripped dark robe. She drew something out from the recesses of her cloak.

  “Murphy, watch your back!” Jesse warned.

  Murphy turned in time to deflect a dagger.

  “How dare you attack us. We are releasing you!” Jesse said from his undignified crouch. “What did they take from you? I have recovered the heart of Jon O’Connor and the lungs of Daniel Sullivan. What is this?” Jesse asked, holding up the undershirt, the weight of which increased with every second he held it.

  “My bones. Where is my mistress?”

  “If you’re talking about the demon who killed you and put your bones in that box, then she would be on the first floor of this house. Before you go, what may I expect to find in the west box?”

  “Blood, lots of blood,” the spirit said, moving quickly to pick up her dagger before sinking through the floor.

  Jesse crawled then balance-walked his way to the center. On the secure flooring he took off Wayne’s boots. He doubted that they would hold liquid, but they would have to do. He made his way to the west box, chose the final key, and opened the box.

  He reared back expecting the blood to pump out like a sliced artery. Instead, there was a very thick drip. Jesse caught it in a boot and left the boot to catch any other following drips.

  “Guard your back,” he warned Murphy. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

  The next drip was bigger and eased out like a slug. The one after that was so gelatinous that it plopped. The box was now empty. Jesse picked up the boot and turned to make his way to the center of the attic.

  A cold hand pulled him backwards hard. The strength of the fingers was unsettling. In the spirit’s other hand he had a spectral hammer. Jesse dropped the boots in order to pry the fingers off before they broke his bones.

  “Stop!” Murphy demanded. “Can’t you see the man is trying to help you?”

  “Why?” the cloaked spirit behind him asked.

  “Believe me, I started asking myself that question when your girlfriend tried to stab my friend,” Jesse said.

  He used the diverted attention to squirm out of the hold the ghost had on him. Jesse snatched the boots and crawled to the center of the room before turning around. Behind him floated a male spirit whose neck hung at an awkward angle. “You poor bastard, they cut your throat to get at your blood,” he sympathized. “Just in case you aren’t aware, decades have passed since your soul was imprisoned in that box.”

  “It was a just end considering what I did to my contemporaries in the walnut grove.”

  “Why the crystals?” Murphy asked.

  “I was instructed to take this hammer, wait until each acolyte knelt before taking the crystal and pounding it into their skull. Their energy would be absorbed by the crystal.”

  “How did you get them to hold still?”

  “That was the queen of the demons doing. I was only a tool to be used.”

  “Did you know that she most likely isn’t the queen of the demons but just a female heritage demon going AWOL from her honorable profession?”

  A look of uncomfortable realization crossed the dead man’s face. “No.”

  “We freed your victims from being a power station. They are being cared for by a mighty priest. Do you wish to join them or walk directly into the light?” Murphy asked.

  “I’m a servant of evil. I will most likely be sent to Hell.”

  “I’ve been to Hell, but not as a prisoner,” Murphy said. “I’ve also been to Purgatory.”

  “Purgatory is real?”

  “Only if you believe it’s real,” Murphy said.

  “When do I have to make this decision?” the spirit asked.

  “When Father Santos calls the light. Until then, you may have an opportunity to do good. Look for it, and be not afraid because forgiveness is stronger than any evil oath you may have sworn.”

  Jesse looked at Stephen and saw that the farmer holding the spectral axe believed in forgiveness, but as his axe turned and the light glinted off the sharpened edge, the farmer also believed in justice.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Jon found Faye in the basement. Her tears fell upon the Italian ghosts who lay withered and powerless on the floor of the basement.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” she said, repeating her apology to each inert spirit.

  “All will be well, they will recharge,” Jon said. “Come away, I have words to tell you.”

  Faye looked over at Jon, and she could tell he had regained his heart. Tears of compassion moved down his face.

  “How?” she questioned as they passed upwards through the floor into the media room.

  “Jesse and Mr. Wonderful,” Jon said. “I came to say goodbye. My mother is calling for me.”

  Faye turned away so Jon wouldn’t see how much his leaving was going to hurt her.

  “You can come too,” he said, his voice lifting as if he just realized it.

  “I’m not ready to leave this plane of existence yet,” Faye said sniffling. “I’ll look you up when I do leave.”

 
“I’ll be looking for you. Faye, you’ve been an angel on earth.”

  Faye put her hand on his face and said, “You gave me reason to believe again.”

  Daniel found them by the window. He saw a ball of light move into the room and into Jon.

  Faye backed away and watched as Jon’s heart glowed, and then he became part of the light, and it pulsed.

  “I’m staying here. Good work still needs doing,” Daniel said.

  The light pulsed brighter and then disappeared.

  Faye groaned.

  Daniel pulled her into his arms. “Go ahead and rest your head on my shoulder. My mam said it was a good place for crying.”

  Faye sobbed. It wasn’t a pretty cry nor was it an angry one. When she had finished, she stepped back and looked up at Daniel. “You’re no longer blue.”

  “It never looked good on me,” Daniel said. “I need to expose me bones so Jesse can return my lungs.”

  “How can I help?”

  “How are you at prying up wood?”

  “Not so good, but I can ask Mr. Wonderful to split the wood with his axe.”

  “Ah, the farmer. He’s a miracle…” Daniel stopped and pulled Faye back behind the carved screen. “Hush, one of the evil ones approaches.”

  Faye watched through the tiny cuts in the wood as the female acolyte with the torn robe and long knife moved into the room. She turned as if she could hear something and faded into the bookcase on the opposite wall.

  August, now in full control of Bridgeton’s body, strode into the room. He raised his arms and the furniture flew backwards. He turned back and called, “Come now, Arnold, you weren’t afraid to challenge me. Now I challenge you!”

  Miss Gee looked at Arnold who could only summon enough energy to rise out of his chair.

  “Look what you’ve done!” screeched Miss Gee. “Someone has opened the boxes. All his strength is gone!”

  “Leave here,” Arnold instructed the men as he walked out into the hall. “I’ll try to hold out as long as I can. I feel deeply that August means to kill all the witnesses, and soon, he will control Gadus too.”

  “I’ll be your second,” Cid said following him. “I’ll fight for you. I still retain the strength from the walnut grove.”

  “No, it’s battle with a demon. I’ll fight,” Father Simon insisted.

  “Why are you risking your lives?” Miss Gee questioned.

  “Why did you risk yours?” Father Santos asked.

  “For Arnold, for love, for…”

  “All that is good and all that can be good,” Father Simon completed. “Cid, you take on Bridgeton. I’ll take on August.”

  “How do we get them to separate?” Cid asked.

  Miss Gee pulled up her voluminous sleeves. “I have enough power left to do this. I will warn you. If you lose, he’ll use the power of the floor, and I will once again belong to August.”

  “Then you better do what you can to make sure they win,” Arnold said, reaching for Miss Gee. “Come, help me to the summoning room.”

  Jesse and Murphy heard the last bit from the grand staircase. Murphy stopped Jesse from taking the last set of stairs. “Come, there is another way into the room. A secret set of stairs.”

  Jesse said very quietly, hoping only Cid heard him, “We will have your back. When you need us, look to the screen.”

  Cid handed Sariel’s sword to Father Simon. “I take it you know how to use this.”

  “It’s not standard seminary training, but I have wielded a toy lightsaber in my youth.” The priest tucked it behind him, making sure he could reach it when he had the opportunity to use it.

  Cid patted the man on the back. “I’m really good with a machete, but I don’t see one around here.”

  Kiki looked out the window and pounded the sill of the common room. “I feel so helpless. What kind of hell are they facing inside?”

  Alan, who had poured a triple ring of salt around Kiki, lifted a chair into the circle. “Sit. Trust Cid…”

  “And Jesse,” Gary said, pocketing his phone as he walked in. “That was Wayne. Jesse stole his clothes and cash out of his wallet. He’s going to pound Jesse when he sees him next. I’m going to bring Wayne another set of clothes and shoes. Who takes another man’s shoes?”

  “Jesse,” Kiki said and smiled. “So you think Jesse is in there with Cid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I think the odds have increased.” Kiki’s eyes twinkled.

  “What do you want us to do, Boss?” Gary asked.

  “Pack up all our stuff. If it’s Scrub’s or Clark’s, pack it too. We’ll sort everything out once we’re clear of this place. Hook up the trailer to Jesse’s truck. We’re not leaving his house. I have a feeling that the farther we’re away from here, the less distraction Cid and Jesse will have.”

  “Ah, this increases the odds even more,” Alan said. He took a marker and wrote in large block letters on the whiteboard: WE HAVEN’T DESERTED YOU. WE HAVE TAKEN THE PAWNS OUT OF PLAY. ALAN. “When we leave, we’ll post this in the window so they can see it. We’ll leave Cid’s truck, just in case they need a quick getaway.”

  “Since this is a duel, August, I will send in my seconds,” Arnold said from the doorway.

  “Seconds? Two against one is hardly good sportsmanship, but you were always a cheater, weren’t you.”

  “You have Bridgeton. You are two,” Miss Gee said walking into the room. She rolled the carpet as if it were something she did every day. “If you want this silly duel, then you’ll have to separate. Bridgeton will fight Cid, and you, August, will fight Father Simon.”

  “The black man?” August asked as if he was asked to clean up someone’s waste.

  “I am Berhanu, son of Thato,” Father Simon announced. “The reason I tell you this is so you will know who has ended your existence.”

  “I’m Augusto Borgia, owner of Gadus.”

  “You cannot own someone who doesn’t want to be owned,” Father Simon said. “Come on, Augusto, stop hiding behind your great-great-grandson. I know you are nothing more than the filth that accumulates under spoiled salsa jar lids.”

  “How dare you!”

  “You’re the rancid meat of a forgotten abattoir. The metallurgical slag of a coal mine…”

  “Stop! I’ll show you what I am.” August walked out of Bridgeton’s body, a solid shadow.

  “And you call me a black man,” Father Simon scoffed.

  Bridgeton wavered and stumbled backwards. Cid took advantage of the tall man’s confusion. Cid grabbed him and bound his wrists behind him with the chain from his crucifix. He then led him to a corner, righted a chair, and with Father Santos’s help, bound him to it. He then poured a thick line of salt to stop August from reentering his body.

  Jesse eased himself down the stairs, using the glow from Murphy’s body to light his way. At the bottom, he saw a work-hardened man of his later twenties. His red hair was long enough to hit the collar of his cotton work shirt. His eyes were dark brown in death. Jesse imagined they had been much lighter in life. Most redheads of his acquaintance had warm brown eyes.

  Faye turned and put her hand on her heart and patted the step, indicating Jesse should rest. He did so even though he was curious to what was happening in the room. He could see some things through the upper cuts in the wood screen but not enough to get a good indication of how things were going.

  “Close your eyes in order to open another inside the room,” a voice in his head instructed.

  Jesse obeyed without question. It took a few starts and stops but he found himself gazing at the action through a set of very familiar eyes. Does he know I’m in his head? he silently asked the guiding voice.

  “He is too busy to question the fullness your visitation gives his body.”

  Jesse watched the scene before him. Father Simon had removed his shirt. His body seemed thin when covered by his vestments, but his bare chest bore tight muscles sculpted
into a lean body. There were scars that would later be explained by his relating the torture he had endured as a child.

  The negative elemental morphed into a humanoid who towered over his opponent. His skin was thick and sleek as a seal. He manifested a head with large bug eyes and an open maw with razor-sharp teeth. His body was outfitted with long legs and arms with deadly claws instead of hands.

  “The contest is to the death or, in August’s case, extinction,” Miss Gee said. “You are afforded one weapon. I see Berhanu has his. August?”

  “This is the second time you have shorted me a blade,” August claimed. “But this time I’m prepared.” August opened his claws, and each of the four talons increased in size. “Eight daggers.”

  “Father Simon, please let me represent myself. August, I will concede if you let the others go,” Arnold offered.

  “Too late, I have the taste for pious blood,” August said and lunged at the priest.

  Father Simon dove and rolled out of the way. He jumped to his feet and drew Sariel’s dagger. He kept his eyes open and regretted the lack of anything to give him higher ground.

  August picked himself up and turned. He moved forward, morphing his body to compact any vital areas. His talons grew as did his teeth. He moved quickly and swiped at the priest with his right talons. Father Simon responded with his sword, cutting three inches off the claws. August countered with his left hand. Father Simon ducked and rolled out of the way. August turned and regrew his talons.

  “It doesn’t quite seem fair,” August taunted Father Simon. “You can’t defeat me. Not even with your little dagger.”

  Father Simon didn’t speak. He studied the creature which constantly morphed. But two areas stayed constant, the head and the center of what would be a human chest. Mia had defeated her negative elemental by stabbing into the center of the mass. Murphy had told Father Santos that sparks flew before the beast became human again. “I expected a beast like you to be beating your chest like an ape,” Father Simon said.