by Blake Croft
“Back up, Ashley,” Scott was advising. “I got it from here.”
But Ashley wouldn’t stop. She started a new assault, spit flying from her mouth, her face red, eyes focused.
“Okay, that’s enough now,” Scott restrained her, placing both arms around her. She struggled, screaming in frustration. Spittle flew out of her sneering mouth, and her red-rimmed eyes were bulging out of her head.
Scott inched her towards the kitchen, struggling to keep on his feet.
Stewart groaned on the floor. A whooping cough racked his body, and he spat out blood. Linda saw fragments of broken teeth glisten in the crimson spit. He lolled from side to side humming a strange gurgling moan. Linda realized he was laughing. “You think you’ve won?” he said haltingly. “Ha!” Blood sprayed from his mouth. “She won’t let you go that easy.”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Scott spat. “God! Ashley, what’s gotten into you?”
Ashley had bit his forearm. Linda sprinted forward to help Scott.
“Ashley, hey,” Linda hugged her sister. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Ashley stiffened. She stopped struggling. Linda managed to extract her from Scott’s restrictive grasp. All the frantic energy drained out of Ashley. Linda guided her to a kitchen chair.
“Now to arrest this moron,” Scott turned back to the living room.
He stopped.
Linda saw Stewart standing across from Scott, Ashley’s’ discarded frying pan in hand. Scott pulled his gun out of its holster and pointed it at Stewart. The manic smile had only intensified and looked far worse in the middle of Stewart’s bleeding face. “None of you can escape. Only I could ever hope to control her. I don’t know what exactly she became, but Tara loved me… madly. To death. And she was jealous; extremely jealous. The thing she became is bitter, and obsessive. And you can bet she hates any young woman here… any potential rival. She’ll drain you all like she did Marisa. Oh, stupid, pathetic Marisa was a hoot to watch, eh Linda?”
“No it wasn’t, you psycho!” Linda shouted.
“She wanted me,” Stewart twirled the frying pan in his hand. Grady was inching closer behind him. Scott had one hand on the butt of his gun. “The sad cow. Too bad she’s dead.”
“You sick bastard,” Mrs. Grady snarled.
Stewart jumped and turned. He hadn’t seen Grady at all.
Scott took that moment to lunge forward, but he hadn’t banked on Stewart’s speed.
Stewart swung the pan, striking Scott’s fingers.
He bellowed. The gun went flying across the room.
Linda saw Stewart head for it.
All sense of preservation had gone out the window since she had broken into the other apartment. She was completely running on instinct. Instinct made her dive for the gun, hand outstretched.
Her fingers grazed the metal barrel but her momentum carried her too far away. She went sprawling across the floor. Stewart wasn’t so unlucky. He managed to grab the gun.
With a triumphant cry he vaulted himself on top of Linda. “There’s no point resisting. I’m the master of everything in the manor.”
Linda slapped him.
Stewart’s face changed from manic cheer to hateful wrath in seconds. “You think you’re better than me?” He slapped her so hard that her face whiplashed the other way.
Her cheek stung, but the fear of being killed didn’t manifest. The rage of years of oppression and abuse roared inside her like an angry sea. Adrenaline coursed through her veins all fueled by the rage at all the men in her life: her no-good father, her abusive fiancé, and now Stewart.
Ashley came screaming at them, eyes wide, teeth barred.
Stewart swung the gun at her.
“No!” Linda screamed.
She bucked her hips, dislodging Stewart from on top of her.
The gun exploded in the small space. Its screaming echo tearing though the madness but the chaos did not end. Ashley kept coming, Scott ran towards Stewart, holding his injured hand. Linda scrambled out from underneath Stewart’s shifted weight, forcing him to topple down.
Stewart roared, the gun pointing directly in Linda’s face.
Her whole life flashed before her eyes, every miserable minute of it. Bitter regret was immediately displaced by the sense of rage at being treated like dirt all her life.
Linda lunged at his gun-wielding hand, forcing the gun away at the last minute.
The second gunshot wasn’t as jarring as before, but it was much more fatal.
Blood mixed with pieces of flesh and bones splattered across the floor.
Linda stared at Stewart and he stared back.
“You… bitch,” he wheezed.
The bullet had hit the juncture between his throat and collar bone, shattering it completely. He wheezed and gurgled, drowning in his own blood. Strong hands grasped at Linda’s front, pulling her forward and onto him.
Linda cried and slapped his hands away.
“Tara… won’t let you escape.” Stewart coughed blood. “You’re… prisoners now.”
“What is he talking about?” Scott was leaning down by Stewart. He had retrieved his gun and holstered it but his hands were shaking badly as he reached for his radio. Linda guessed nothing like this had ever happened in a small town like Keystone and the sight of so much blood was jarring.
Linda knew what Stewart had meant. He had just revealed that Tara was the main source of the manifestation.
“Necklace,” Stewart laughed, his mouth a crimson slash. Blood sloshed out of his mouth. He coughed, and spluttered choking on his own blood. He propped his head up again and swallowed. “Won’t… ever… find it. This,” he swung one pointed finger around the living room. “Our… playground. We’ll start with you,” he grinned a bloody smile at Linda. “Look forward to hearing… your screams.”
“I won’t let that happen.” Linda wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Stewart chuckled. The blood around his face was a small pool. It had seeped through his clothes and Linda had the distinct image of blood dripping down the basement ceiling. His erratic, roaming eyes grew dimmer. He was losing his grip on life.
“Imagine all the women who will go through this house, Linda,” Stewart said, his voice now as clear as a bell, surprisingly. “I’ll join Tara, and you can see us torture them all for an eternity to come.”
Despite his fatal wound, he laughed, loud and hysterical. Linda’s nails dug into her palms. Stewart kept hooting with laughter, the sound grating on her shot nerves.
“Shut up!” Linda screamed. “Shut up, shut up!”
“Who are you talking to?” Scott placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Him of course,” Linda gestured towards Stewart. “He just won’t stop laughing.”
“He’s not laughing, Linda,” Scott was looking at her strangely.
“Of course he is,” Linda wanted to press her hands on her ears to muffle the gloating sound. “Didn’t you hear him gloat about the women he will torture in this house?”
“No,” Scott shook his head. “He’s dead.”
Linda did a double take. She looked down at Stewart’s relaxed body, his glassy, staring eyes. His mouth was indeed stuck in a grotesque smile, but he wasn’t laughing. He was as dead as a doornail.
Chapter 35
Ashley was sitting on the living room sofa. Her skin was pale and had a clammy sheen like she was suffering from a fluctuating fever. She stared at Stewart's face.
“I did that?” she asked faintly. “Lin, did I do that?” Panic was paramount in her voice.
Linda hugged her sister. “He was attacking me,” she soothed, “I would have done the same for you.”
“But-” Ashley stammered.
“You’re going to have to come down to the station with me,” Scott said. “I need your statements.”
“He’s right.” Grady nodded. “You should leave as soon as possible. This place isn’t safe for you.”
“It isn’t safe for anyone.” Linda sho
ok her head. She got up to face Scott. “But no, I can’t leave.”
“Yes, you can, and you will,” Scott turned on her. “I have to call a coroner and explain what happened here. We’ll need the whole department down here.”
“None of that matters right now,” Linda said. “We need to find the receptacle and destroy it. I won’t have this happening to anyone else. I just won’t!”
“Commendable as that is,” Grady said. “How do you propose to do it? We have no leads, no idea where it is, and I’m still confused by Stewart’s involvement in it all.”
“You’re theory about a haunting was correct,” Linda said. “Only it wasn’t the miners driving it. I’ve had phenomenon from the miners, but it was limited and wasn’t malicious. The book you gave me pointed me towards the legend of the banshee. There were similarities with that but it isn’t exactly the same.”
Scott scoffed. He looked between Grady’s serious face to Linda’s.
“Then who is behind it?” Grady asked.
“Tara Walsh,” Linda said. “Stewart was having an affair with her. He murdered her around the time of her disappearance. It’s her pendant I’ve been seeing in dreams, a peridot clover, and now I’m sure she’s the one singing in that recording. After her death, the haunting began. I think his dog was the first victim. You said it acted strangely and threw itself down the porch.”
“Are you insane?” Scott finally broke his silence. “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not,” Linda said. “But you don’t have to believe me. You want to know what happened to Tara Walsh and Shannon Dorothy? I know where their bodies are.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “Where?”
“There in the secret mine shaft that the miners were tunneling to Blackburn Manor.”
“It makes sense,” said Grady after a few seconds. “So you mean that Tara was buried in the mines where the Irish miners had been shot dead. There would be some Irish influence in the unconsecrated ground after hosting the Catholic Irish victims for a century. It probably helped turned the tortured soul of Tara into a sort of Banshee.”
Linda looked at Grady and then Scott’s bewildered face. “That’s why I asked you to take me through the mine to the speakeasy.”
“We went there, Linda.” Scott snapped. “It was inaccessible.”
“It opens up in the basement from the other apartment.” She ran a hand through her hair. “It’s a horrible place, and I don’t want to go alone, but we have to do this. We have to destroy the receptacle Tara was attached to, and Shannon’s phone. Poor Shannon is part of the haunting too. I suspect she tried to warn me through dreams, but Tara’s influence probably prevented her to get through. Shannon’s soul is a prisoner of the thing that became Tara.”
She retrieved the device from her pocket.
Scott’s eyes widened. “Where did you find it?”
“In Stewart’s attic.” Linda shuddered. “He pushed her down the attic stairs.”
“I’m going to need that.” Two points of color rose in Scott’s cheeks. “It’s evidence.” He held out his hand.
Linda put the phone back in her pocket. “I can’t give it to you. I need to destroy it to release Shannon’s spirit.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Really? You expect me to buy this?”
“You don’t have to buy it,” Linda snapped. “Look, the bodies should be enough evidence to convict Stewart. If the bodies aren’t there, I’ll give you the phone.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
“No,” Scott said. He took out his phone. “I’ll find them anyway. I’ll call Carter and get a team down here.”
“And what?” Linda said trying a new tack. “Last time something big happened in Keystone, the Hackridge department stomped all over it. You said it yourself they always make a mess of things. You can be sure if they hear of a high profile murder case, they will want to be in the thick of it, pushing you to the back where you won’t even get credit.”
Scott looked appalled.
Grady nodded. “I’m with Linda.”
Scott shrugged. “Okay, but I call the shots here. You two,” He pointed at Grady and Ashley. “Will stay out of the house. I don’t want anyone contaminating the crime scene. Linda, you will guide me to the basement, and then you must get out of there as well. I won’t have any of you coming to harm on my watch.”
“Good.” Linda nodded. “Come on, we should go. Ashley?”
“Hmm?” Ashley looked worse than she had a minute ago. Her eyes drooped, and she looked dead on her feet.
Linda walked over to her sister, and touched her forehead. It was cool. She wasn’t running a fever. She figured the sudden exertion in her fight with Stewart had exhausted her. The bags under her eyes were purple bruises and she looked listless. Linda was painfully reminded of Marisa.
“Do you think you’re up for it?” Linda asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“Still better than you,” Ashley joked, but she still looked haggard. “I’ll be fine. You should worry about Scott’s hand. I think it’s broken.”
“It’s not broken,” Scott protested. “Just a little bruised. Let’s go. I’m going to call Milo for backup.”
“Stewart’s front door might be locked,” Linda said walking towards the kitchen. “The back door was open when I went in there earlier. We’ll also need digging supplies from the shed.”
“I’ll get those,” Ashley grumbled.
“I don’t know how accessible the tunnel is from the basement, so you should also get a crowbar,” Linda added. She held the screen door open. Everyone filed out into the porch. She also looked a little pale, but her eyes were steady and determined. Once Scott ensured that everybody was out, he closed the door. Taking out his phone, he walked out into the back garden to call the police.
Linda watched Ashley enter the shed and a thought occurred to her. She made sure Scott’s back was turned before she opened the back door to her apartment gently. “Wait right here,” she whispered to Grady. “I’ll be right back.”
Linda slipped quickly into the house. Stewart’s body was an eyesore. It both attracted and repulsed attention at the same time. Linda ignored it as best she could and climbed the stairs taking them two at a time.
The portraits were more animated than ever, their occupants twisting in horrific pain but Linda kept her eyes averted. She now knew that the portraits on the landing were part of the manifestation, that if she looked at even one of them she will be ensnared and taken into a hallucination once again.
She came to a screeching halt in her room. She walked over to where she had dropped her handbag earlier and retrieved Grady’s book, Lore of the Land – A Concise History of Irish Folklore, Legends, and Myth.
She opened it and went through the pages to reach Colin Prim’s diary. Her finger slipped on the page, then stopped.
“She is dead, we must bury her.”
I told them that was nonsense; the girl looked dead, I grant them that, but there was something alive about her nonetheless.
They surged forward to take her. “We will break the curse; we will release her!”
Linda closed the book, and took it. She went briskly down the stairs and would have immediately headed out the back door had she not glanced in the living room. Stewart’s body had moved.
Chapter 36
Linda stared at the sprawled corpse intently.
She wasn’t mistaken. The body was several inches beneath the pool of blood, drag marks swept across the floor.
Heart beating wildly in her chest, Linda tiptoed closer, watching his chest carefully to detect any movement.
Trembling from head to toe, Linda bent down; the phone in her pocket was a cold spot against her hip. She placed one finger along Stewart’s neck. He was still warm but cooling rapidly. She stared at the drag marks. Someone, or something, had moved Stewart’s body. There was no mistaking it.
The hair on the back of her neck was standing painfully on end. Her gut was a tight knot of fear. She phy
sically cringed away from the sight and what it implied but it was as if it was beckoning her. Linda tilted her head up and looked at the painting on the wall. At first glance it was the same, but then she saw the trail of small black figures emerging from the woods along the hill, coming closer and closer.
She got up and backtracked to the kitchen and out the back door to join the others on the back porch. On the outside she was calm but on the inside she was holding back a petrified scream.
Scott was still making calls in the back garden, his back to the house. He hadn’t noticed her go back in or out. Ashley had a crowbar, a shovel, and a small trowel leaning against the porch railing. Linda gave Grady the book for safe keeping.
As she had done the day she had first arrived in the house, Linda got a sense of being in an old decrepit castle, vast and hiding many dangerous secrets behind its walls.
Scott ended up the call, and moved to the house. He tried to open the door, but it didn’t move. “We can’t. It’s locked,” Scott snapped. He turned to look back to Linda.“You said it wouldn’t be.”
“It wasn’t earlier.”
Scott turned the doorknob again, but it didn’t budge. “See? Locked.”
Linda tried it herself.
The knob twisted with ease and the door creaked open.
All of them stared at each other.
“Are you sure your hand's not broken?” Linda asked.
“My hand is fine.” Scott pushed past her into the manor. “Everyone else stay out.”
“Wait,” Linda warned. “Be careful.”
Evelyn was still in the living room with her back to the kitchen. Scott walked over to the old woman and Linda was suddenly full of anxious regret. How could she tell Evelyn that her son had been killed?
“Dr. Blackburn, I’m so sorry,” Scott said coming around the chair to face Evelyn but the remainder of the sentence vanished from his mouth which was now open in an "o" of disgust. “Oh, my God!”
Evelyn whimpered.
Linda strode inside the house as did Grady and Ashley. They congregated around Evelyn and a collected gasp slipped out of their throats.
