Dawson lay on the floor, holding his injured leg and grunting at the pain. He tried to get back to his feet, but the trauma was too intense for him to stand. As he bled, he heard the howls and the movement of the pirates through the mansion coming closer.
Bridgette picked herself up. Her knee ached from the fall, but she managed to get back to her feet. She checked the rest of her body, but miraculously she hadn't broken anything. She looked up and saw the mansion far above and gasped at just how far she had tumbled down the steep cliff. The rain washed down on her as a thunderstorm brewed up in the clouds. The bay was nearly black now, and all the mist and strange lights from before had dissipated. It all seemed like a bad dream from her perspective, and she wished it were, but the pain in her knee brought her back to reality.
The water washed from the bay up on the rocks ahead of her, splashing her with its salty spray. It was hard to see anything, but as she glanced up from the water, she saw a foot lying on a bit of shore behind a large rock in front of her.
Bridgette hobbled around the rock and gasped as she saw Janet sitting on the shore. "Janet!" she cried. "I thought you were... I mean, I thought you'd been... well..." Relief washed over her as she limped toward her friend.
A blade was drawn suddenly and shoved in her face, making Bridgette stumble backward. The pirate holding it growled at her, threatening to cut her if she got any closer.
"It's okay!" Janet said, sitting under him. "I don't think he'll hurt you. Just keep your distance."
"What's going on?" Bridgette asked, watching the pirate carefully. He kept his blade drawn, but he stayed where he was.
"I don't know," Janet said. "After they took me, he brought me here away from the others. I think he thinks I'm someone else."
"Orianne..." Bridgette said.
The name seemed to rouse something in the pirate, and his face took on a look of reverie. He looked down at Janet in a conflicted way. Like he recognized something in her, but was mistrustful.
It all clicked to Bridgette. "You're Roger," she said.
"Shut up," the pirate snarled, brandishing his cutlass. But his eyes searched her carefully as if trying to figure out how she knew that.
"In any case," Bridgette said to Janet, "we have to find a way to get back to the others."
A cry of agony rang out from the broken window high above her.
Bridgette's breath caught in her throat. She would recognize that voice anywhere: it was Dawson.
Hide and Seek
"I have to get back up there!" she said. If Dawson was in trouble, she knew she wouldn't have much time, if any at all. She turned to Janet. "Can you move?"
The pirate growled at her, leaning forward and raising his blade again.
"I don't think he'll let me," Janet said.
Then the anger on the pirate's face softened and he gasped.
Bridgette spun around and saw Orianne standing behind her. She and the pirate ignored the two of them and they both hurried into each other's arms. He picked her up and spun her around and Orianne's face turned to glee. He set her down and they shared a slow kiss, then she nuzzled her head against his chest. "Roger," she cooed.
"Orianne," he breathed, running his dirty fingers through her pale red hair.
Bridgette's heart missed a beat as she watched the two of them. The person Orianne had been waiting for all this time, after all these years, was a pirate. It reminded her of the romance novel she had been reading, and suddenly her heart broke at their tragic tale. If the pirates only came once every hundred years, it must have been a century since they had seen each other; Orianne fated to pace around the mansion, waiting for him, and Roger trapped wherever he was, concerned only with finding his love rather than the vengeful slaughter like the rest of his crew.
She felt her heart swell suddenly for Dawson. All the differences they'd had since they got here melted away in that instant, and now she felt the undeniable, powerful urge to see him again and know that he was okay. To taste his lips once more.
Orianne and Roger looked out over the bay and their faces turned to worry.
They didn't say it, but Bridgette knew that this reunion was destined to be short-lived. Orianne turned to her. "You have to find it," she said. "We'll watch over her." She nodded toward Janet.
"Are you going to be okay?" Bridgette asked her.
Janet nodded weakly. "I think so." She leaned against the rock next to her and threw her arm over her head, shielding her face from the rain.
Bridgette turned and stared up the cliff. It was very steep, but there were a few outcroppings and shallower parts to the side where she might be able to scale up. She took it slowly and carefully, and her hands and feet slipped on the slick surfaces of the rocks in the rain, but she was determined to get to the top, and before long she reached the window.
She pulled herself in, careful to avoid the broken glass jutting out of the frame, and then she fell onto the floor of the mansion like a soggy fish washed up on a beach.
The halls around her were quiet, a lot quieter than they should have been. She could hear some noise and movement in the distance, but the area around her was dark and still. She wiped the water out of her eyes and looked around. As she began to push herself back to her feet, she saw the blood on the floor.
Bridgette gasped. She knew it must have been Dawson's and she thought for a moment she was going to pass out. Her heart swelled bigger than ever and she felt a dire franticness to find him, like being underwater and out of breath, looking up at that surface.
The blood was dotted and smeared across the floor, going through the living room. It looked like he had been injured and tried to crawl away.
Bridgette limped through the living room, ignoring the pain in her knee, and checking around overturned furniture and in the shadows for any sign of him. "Dawson!" she called.
Gaspar stepped onto the landing above and stood at the top of the stairs as a flash of lightning lit the dark room. He put a hand on the banister and set his fiery gaze upon her like some mighty statue. Bridgette whimpered. Then he started down the stairs and she turned and ran.
Her buggered knee made her do a weird sort of hobbled run. She turned the corner and ran to the door leading to the sealed wing. Gaspar's footfalls clapped like thunder in the corridor behind her.
She entered the wing and came into the familiar hall. Jasper's bedchamber stood at the end, and she made her way to it, hoping that she could find somewhere to hide or escape from the murderous captain.
Bridgette pulled open the doors to the bedchamber and shut them behind her before Gaspar came into the hall. She plodded across the room, grateful that it was lined with carpet instead of the hard marble, and she searched around for a place to escape. She tried one of the windows first, but she couldn't find a way to open any of them.
The footsteps came up to the door from the hall, and her heart leapt into her throat. Bridgette frantically searched around and settled on the four-poster bed. She hurried over to it and pressed herself to the floor, sliding under the bed's curtain and peering out from the darkness.
Gaspar stormed through the doors with a grunt. "Where are you?" he said, his voice as thunderous as his footfalls. "I'll find you this time!" he seethed.
He scowled at the cut-up portrait of Jasper hanging over the bed, then he tore up the room. He slashed through the doors of the tall dresser with his sword, tearing away with his hand whatever he didn't cut open. He sliced through the old clothing hanging inside and tossed the rags out. He came over to the writing desk and pulled open its drawers, throwing out reams of paper then ripping the drawer out of the desk in frustration.
Bridgette watched from under the bed, confused. It didn't seem like he was searching for her; it seemed like he was searching for something else. Something's small that could fit into a drawer.
Gaspar stared out the window at the sky over the bay and he shared that same concerned look on his face that Orianne and Roger had, like he knew he was running out of t
ime.
And then it hit her: he was looking for the red amulet.
Lost and Found
Gaspar stood in the center of the bedchamber and seethed. When he couldn't find the amulet, he threw his shoulders back and howled in rage. He gazed up at the torn portrait of Jasper and hurled his cutlass at it as hard as he could. The sword sailed through the air and buried itself deep into Jasper's forehead. Then Gaspar turned and left the room.
Bridgette waited under the bed, listening to his heavy footfalls fade away. She started to get the idea that the pirates hadn't been just a simple crew of criminals who had selected a random target to pillage one night. There was definitely something else going on, and with the information Billy had found about Jasper paying a crew of traders, specifically someone named Gaspar, she came to the conclusion that the barbaric pirates were that very same crew, and that the one who had just stormed through the bedchamber was Gaspar himself, the captain; she'd seen firsthand the fire in his eyes that she hadn't even seen in Trevor's, like long-burning embers, shining red in his rage.
Red. The word suddenly stuck in Bridgette's mind. She thought of the amulets again, the green one Billy found in the fireplace, and the red one she was searching for. Something dislodged in her memory and now it was on the edge of her mind—somewhere she had seen something red in the mansion... a shining jewel. But where? Then, as a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning played outside, the answer flashed in her own mind.
The statue of Jasper in the courtyard, facing the bay past the open loggia. It was holding a red gem. They had passed it so many times that it became second nature and she put it out of her mind. It was Jasper himself clutching the other amulet, hidden in plain sight the whole time.
She pulled herself out from under the bed and hurried out of the bedchamber. She had to find Dawson and get to that amulet as quickly as she could before anyone else found it. If she could get her hands on it, Orianne would know what to do.
Two pirates stood just inside the front doors of the estate, guarding the exit and scanning their eyes across the entrance hall. The rain came down outside and they listened to it patter on the stone walkway beyond the thick wooden doors.
A loud pop went off somewhere outside. Another followed, and then a louder bang burst in the night.
The pirates looked at each other, then one of them opened the doors a crack and peered outside. It was dark and not much could be seen across the grounds, but he thought he saw something like orange sparks before they faded away. The pirates phased through the doors and hurried outside to investigate.
To the left of the pathway, near the road leading away from the property, a series of small explosions went off one after another. It looked like cannon fire to the pirates, but much smaller than anything they'd seen before. Also, there were no cannons. They approached cautiously, their swords drawn.
As they were distracted by the firecrackers Boomer had lit, he pushed himself up to his feet from behind the fountain with a groan, then he shuffled for the open doors of the museum, cradling a shotgun under his arm and a satchel slung over his shoulder.
Bridgette worked her way through the mansion as quickly as she could, dodging the spirits of the dead where they patrolled. She slipped into the dark corridor overlooking the bay and stayed in the shadows. The courtyard was ahead, and the amulet was there.
But when she reached the parlor and saw the statue in the next room with its hand raised in the air, she found that its grasp was empty.
"Where is it?" she asked aloud. She approached the statue and stretched up on her toes, feeling around the hand, but it was clear that it was gone. She glanced around the floor and at the base of the statue, but it was nowhere to be seen.
"You wouldn't happen to be looking for something, would you?" a voice called out from behind.
Will stepped into the parlor from the other hallway and dragged Dawson by the collar. Dawson groaned, bleeding and lying on the floor. And clutched in Will's hand was the red amulet.
Fish out of Water
Will pulled Dawson into the middle of the dark parlor, and Dawson grunted and looked pale.
"Baby!" Bridgette cried as she rushed to him, but Will retrieved a handgun tucked in his waistline, cautioning her not to come any closer.
Dawson groaned. His eyes were swimming, and his whole body felt cold and weak.
"It was you this whole time!" Bridgette cried. "You tricked us into summoning them, didn't you?"
Will's smile grew wider. "You should feel proud," he said. "Most people didn't get this far the last two times, as I hear it. They were slaughtered in the confusion, not even knowing what they had done. My ancestors have done well, and this time it was entrusted to me. I wasn't going to let him down."
"Who?" Bridgette asked. "What are you talking about?"
"Jacob Jasper," Will said, gesturing toward the stone statue in the courtyard. "He's the one who started all of this. Well... aside from him." Will pointed to the mouth of the hallway she'd come from.
Roger stood there with a scowl on his face as he stared at Will. A few more pirates had gathered there and from a hallway leading toward the kitchen, but they all kept their distance.
"A lowly little deckhand," Will said, looking at Roger. "Fell in love with the daughter of Mr. Jasper. Or as I call him, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandpa."
"You're related to him?"
"Will Jasper is my real name. But it's easier when most people don't know that."
"So what's this all about?" she asked. "Revenge?"
"We can chat as much as you like, but first things first." He raised the red amulet in the air and the small handful of pirates watching fearfully took a step back. "Oh, I think this is going to be my favorite part," he said.
The amulet began to glow, much like the green one had before, but this time a red swirl of energies emerged from the gold-encased stone and snaked its way through the air, wrapping around Jasper's statue in the courtyard.
"What are you doing?" Bridgette asked.
"We can't start the celebrations without our prime guest," Will replied. "He always likes a front row seat. I've never met the man myself, but I must say it will be an honor."
"You're summoning Jasper?" she asked. "What twisted scheme do you have?"
"I must commend you," he said. "I didn't expect you to get this far. You and your lot have actually survived so far. Well, most of you, anyway. That Trevor was a real sorry sod. You know I had him pegged to be the first one killed the whole time?"
"You're sick," Bridgette said. "You... you manipulated us!"
"I had to," Will said. "When the pirates went down with their ship three hundred years ago, Gaspar used his amulet to bring them back from the dead. But Jasper worked his machinations, ensuring they would rot in their grave, at least for a time. But it never lasted, and they would always come back. Left unchecked, they would return for good. But if they were summoned early, using their own amulet, then they were given only a small window. One night. One night to wreak havoc before they were sent back to Hell. So we would attract some sorry lot to the museum and get them to summon the dead. It became a family tradition. The pirates would be too distracted by their bloodlust, too twisted by their rage, to focus on actually freeing themselves, instead sating themselves with senseless slaughter. By the time they were finished, their souls would fade back into the ether and be trapped again.
"And Trevor was the perfect mark," he continued. "A history of delinquency, including a small stint in juvenile hall, even. Hung out with unsavory types and was into treasure hunting. It was plastered all over his Facebook page. Reminds me of an old P.T. Barnum quote I heard one time. Something about a sucker born every minute? He thought he landed a good gig as a security guard in a mansion loaded with riches and promise of hidden treasure in the bay. And he had the place all to himself for an entire week, thinking the security cameras were turned off?" He laughed.
"You were watching us," Bridgette said.
"I like to think I was guiding you along. I left little clues throughout the mansion where you would find them. Make you think they were your ideas. I couldn't be too obvious, of course, but even Trevor was too stupid to find the part of the map I hinted was in my briefcase for days. But he found it in the nick of time. Another day or two and the barrier might have weakened enough for the spirits to come through permanently. You know, it was really too bad to see Trevor go. The rest of you should have been dead by now too, but we can clean up loose ends if we have to."
The red energy continued to swirl around Jasper's statue, growing wider and stronger.
"It won't be long now until Jasper is with us," he said.
"I won't let you do it!" Bridgette said defiantly, stepping toward him.
"Uh, uh, uh," he warned. He wiggled the gun at the back of Dawson's head.
Dawson moaned on the ground. He clutched Will's pant leg, but he knew he didn't have the strength or the agility to overpower him with the gun pointed at him.
"Do I have to show you your place?" Will asked. He stomped on Dawson's injured calf and Dawson yelled in agony. Will twisted his foot on the wound, pulling at the torn flesh. Dawson squeezed his teeth together so hard they almost cracked. He madly clawed at the marble floor from the pain. More blood poured from his wound as he writhed.
Bridgette sobbed. She begged Will to stop, approaching him and holding her hands up in appeal.
"If you take another step toward me, I'll blow his brains all over the floor," Will said.
Bridgette stared at the scene in dismay through tear-filled eyes. Will waited with a wide smile on his face as he held up the amulet. The energies swirled around the statue and also served as a reminder to the pirates watching not to get any funny ideas. Bridgette didn't know what the amulet did or what powers it held over the pirates, but they seemed to be frightened of it.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 56
