Tears stung her eyes as the power of her faith consumed her. She descended each step, waving the golden bottle before her as a talisman of hope.
“The will of love commands you! Be gone!” She stepped again.
“The will of hope commands you! Leave this realm!” Again, she stepped down.
The being had stopped its advance. Its eyes grew huge, but now the glee that had been in them was a mortal rage. The room thundered with its hate and buffeted her like a unstoppable wave.
“The will of God commands you!” She held herself upright as best she could, and felt Isabella kick in her womb.
So be it. She stepped over to Barry’s form. They’d stand or fall as a family. With an agony she didn’t know could exist firing though her broken hand, she pulled the stopper from the bottle of Chrism and threw it at the beast. It passed through the figure like a bullet.
The demon recoiled.
Now raising the open bottle she shook its neck at the beast, splashing it with the blessed oil and balsam mixture.
Over and over she screamed every word she knew of goodness as she lashed at and advanced on this terrible visage, emptying the container.
“Light!”
“Love!”
“Joy!”
“Barry!”
“Isabella!”
“Mother!”
“Father!”
“To life!”
With each cry her faith grew.
And the savage shrank back. It folded into itself, collapsing smaller and smaller.
The Evelyn apparition now pressed the advantage floating closer and closer. Her fingers were curved talons reaching for the thing. It passed Myra and engaged the beast directly. As the beast waned, the woman waxed, forcing it lower and lower.
Throwing the now empty bottle at the two figures, Myra turned to Barry’s still form. She dropped to her knees onto the dirt floor and clutched his head. “Barry!” She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing! Again and again she called his name. “Please come back! I love you!” Tears flowed down her face and dripped onto her husband’s. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, crying and keening all the while, like an animal caught in a leg trap.
He was so cold. What a horrible price they were paying to be good.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Her hands curled into fists and she beat his chest. “Wake up!” In the dream she had a lifetime ago, he died because she had not been there when he needed her. But that hadn’t happened!
She pounded and pushed his chest over his heart over and over. She stopped for a moment, watching for any response. Nothing. Her chin dropped to her chest and her shoulders wracked as more tears fell through her now closed eyes.
Like a warm blanket the presence of the woman spirit enveloped her and Barry. The energy tingled warm through her body. Opening her eyes she saw Evelyn’s face before her. She dropped her head to see the woman’s now almost solid hand rest on Barry’s heart. At the same time, her daughter moved again deep inside.
A pure white glow of energy now flowed through both her and Barry in a swirling cascade of warmth and joy. A sense of peace filled her.
She stroked her husband’s still face. With a sad smile, she said, “Thy will be done,” over and over. They had fought the good fight for a greater good.
“Thy will be done.”
She jerked back when Barry sat bolt upright. A loud sucking sound followed as he gasped a lungful of air. “OOoooHHHhhEEEE” he screamed as he struggled to breathe. Over and over again he hooted and hacked rattling coughs trying to catch his breath.
“Barry!” She pulled him in and hugged him like she’d never let go.
He coughed a couple of times and pulled back, straining to get to his feet. “Where—”
“It’s gone.” She looked around. Evelyn had also vanished. She clutched him again. “I thought you were dead!”
Barry held onto to her and they rocked together. “I… I think I was,” he said in a voice filled with awe. He gazed around the cellar. When he saw the still form of Gordon his head jerked back. “He’s dead.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact.
His face showed concern and he leaned closer putting his hand on the back of her head. “Myra. He hurt you. We’ve got to get you to the hospital.” He lowered his hand to her waist and stroked softly and sighed, “Thank God, the baby’s fine.”
The pain flared through her hand like a flame. She dropped her head. Bones would knit and life would go on. They were together, a family. They had faced and fought absolute evil and beat it back empowered by love and hope. That was the force that was stronger than what had invaded the house.
She looked over at Gordon and for a moment she felt sorry for him. He had let himself be such an easy prey. The evil in the house had used and discarded him like a paper towel.
“We’ve got to call the police before I can go to get fixed up. How the hell are we ever going to explain what happened?” She reached for his hand and together the two of them helped each other get to their feet. After all that had happened both of them were drained.
“We’re not. Leave it to me.”
Chapter 25
Barry and his Dad stood at the kitchen sink washing the last of the pots and pans from the Christmas feast. Even though he’d prepared the meal and got everything ready for the big dinner, Barry was content to finish the day working next to his father. Holiday family gatherings were always bitter sweet without his Mom being there.
Besides which, with Myra’s busted hand she was better off sitting in the living room with Tony and his family. The sounds of laughter and good natured protests whenever someone scored a point in the board game they were playing drifted into the kitchen, making him smile. The fact that the whole atmosphere of that room had changed so much that it was actually pleasant to sit there, also made him smile.
“Myra is lucky to be alive.” His Dad finished drying the pot and set it on the counter. He looked over at Barry and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t get over that guy attacking her.”
“Yeah. He must have had a few screws loose to begin with but when Stella left the house to me, he totally lost it. He actually thought that he’d get the house if I signed some paper.”
“Crazy.” His father’s eyebrows drew together. “Thank God you came home when you did.” He paused and his eyes were intense watching Barry. “But I’ve got a feeling there’s more to it than what you told the police, right?”
Barry sighed and looked over his shoulder towards the doorway. Myra’s family were still laughing and playing the board game. It was just the two of them there and high time for honest talk. “Yeah, quite a bit more. The house is—”
“Haunted.” His father let out a short laugh and tilted his head looking towards the ceiling. “I knew it the first day I stepped inside here.” He tossed the tea towel over his shoulder and wandered over to the kitchen table. “This was the Stella’s favorite spot to sit in this house. I saw her here the day we helped you move in.”
Barry turned and did a double take before shaking his head. “Dad! You saw her? You have the touch?”
“Where do you think you got it?” He sat back and laced his hands at the back of his head, looking over at his son.
Barry let the water out of the sink and dried his hands before joining his father at the table. “Did Mom know? She never said anything to me about it.”
“I only have it to a slight degree Barry...nothing like what you have. So, no she never knew. She was always so proud of you and your gift. I didn’t see any need to mention where you got it from.” His dark eyes became soft with sadness and he looked down at the table, lost in some memory for a few moments.
Barry sat silent for a few moments debating whether to bring this up. They’d each been lost in grief after his mother had been killed and had never talked much about that day.
“Dad? I’ve always felt guilty about her death.”
“Yeah, I know.
I tried to talk to you about it, but you kept pushing me away.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look his father in the eye. “I could have saved her, Dad.”
“Because of your premonition?”
Barry looked up sharply, in stunned silence.
Dad nodded. “That much I was able to sense.” He reached out and put his hand on Barry’s shoulder. “I know you had one. So did I.”
“Why didn’t you stop her that day?”
“I tried!” I made her promise to not leave the house that day. She promised!” Dad shook his head slowly. “We’ll never know what caused her to go out in the car that day, Barry, and it doesn’t matter. She made her choice.”
“But if I said something, that would have been enough!”
“No, Barry, it wouldn’t.”
“How the hell do you know?”
Dad held his hands out palms up. “Because she knew it was a dangerous day too.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve tried for more than twenty years to get through to you about this, buddy.” He leaned across the table to his son. “She had a premonition dream the night before. She woke up, and woke me up about it.” He shrugged. “That’s when I told her that I had a bad feeling and she made the promise not to leave the house.” He sighed and looked away. “A promise she broke… not just to me, but to herself.”
“But WHY?”
“I don’t know! But that’s what happened!” Dad sat back in his chair. “Look, if you want to...be my guest and keep blaming yourself. But that’s a road that goes nowhere, Barry. You also were just a boy; cut that kid some slack for God’s sake!”
Barry sat in silence, sharing the space and time with his father. “I’m going to have to chew this over, Dad.”
“Sure. Take all the time you need.”
Even so, he felt a weight lift from his heart. “I don’t think it’ll take long.”
Chapter 26
Three years later...
The whole family was outside in the back yard, decked out with party hats, eating hot dogs and potato salad for Isabella’s third birthday. Barry didn’t bother going inside after parking his cab in the driveway. He just followed the sounds of laughter and the shrieks of joy from Isabella who was playing with her older cousins.
He walked over to Myra and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Sorry I’m late. I got flagged for a fare to go to the train station. Did I miss anything?”
Her smile was mysterious like the Mona Lisa and she took his hand and placed it on her beach ball belly. “Just your son doing cartwheels inside here.” She looked over at her daughter and smiled. “Izzy’s having a ball.”
It was at that moment that his daughter turned her round chocolate colored eyes up and saw him. “Daddy!” She was a bouncing whirlwind of dark curls, a twirling purple skirt and outstretched arms running over to him.
His heart floated high in his chest seeing his daughter. “Isabella! Happy birthday!”
Her arms circled his neck when he picked her up and spun her around in a circle. “You got it for me! I know you did!”
“What? You don’t know that! Maybe I got you something else. Something you’ll like more.” He looked into her eyes but it was hard to keep the grin from his face, teasing her. Of course he’d got her what she asked for. The kitten was in a carrier on the front step.
“I’m going to call her Princess. Where is she?” She squirmed and pushed at his shoulders trying to get back down on the ground.
He took her hand and together they walked around to the front of the house. The pure white kitten extended an arm out one of the holes of the cage trying to play with a leaf.
“Holy doodle! She’s so cute!” Isabella raced over to the cage.
Barry stopped in his tracks and watched her. Holy doodle? He had never used that phrase around her and for sure Myra wouldn’t. The only other person who he’d ever heard say ‘holy doodle’ was...
Stella.
His mouth fell open as he watched her open the cage and scoop the kitten out.
He’d never rejected the idea of reincarnation or any other alternative eastern mythology or religion. No one had the absolute goods on anything after this life here on earth. The last time he’d spoken to Stella she had said that energy never dies, it just changes.
Changes into what?
Or into who?
He shook his head with a small smile. Izzy is Izzy.
Isn’t she?
Whatever.
Myra came around the corner of the house and reached for his hand, joining him. “I can see why the kitten is her favourite present.” She looked up at him. “It reminds me of Leia.”
“That’s why I picked a white one. It’s a female so...who knows? It might have kittens. She’s going to call it Princess.”
At the sound of a ‘caw’ high in the apple tree he looked up into its branches. Sitting on the highest limb was a lone crow returning his gaze. He huffed.
There wasn’t a day that went by that that harbinger of evil didn’t make its presence known at some point. Barry’s eyes narrowed for a moment watching it. He’d come to terms with his ‘gift’ and the power that was within him to safeguard the house and the ley line it sat on. It was as much a part of him and his life as eating or sleeping. There were times that he felt the energy of the magnetic lines flowing into him, increasing his awareness of all that was good in the world—his wife and family.
Suddenly the bird let out a surprised shrill screech and slipped off the branch, flapping its wings wildly. It recovered quickly from its tumble, and lit out across the driveway, over the hedges and out of sight. Its outraged screeches and cackles faded.
“What the—” Barry wondered. He hadn’t done anything to drive it away. He turned and saw Isabella on her feet, holding the kitten tight to her body and staring up to where the bird had disappeared.
Isabella walked over to stand in front of her parents and smiled up at them. “Horrible bird. I took care of it this time, Daddy.”
THE END
A Note From The Author
This tale of The Hauntings of Kingston was inspired by a particular building in my city—it’s known as Roselawn House. It was built by a lawyer for his growing family in 1841. Today it still stands; and many of the trees that were planted when it was built survive. It’s a beautiful building that has called to me since I was a child. The tale you’ve just read is of my own imagination that I spun out on the grounds of Roselawn House by asking myself the two word question that so often begins the spinning of a tale:
“What if…”
Thank you for reading this book. Hopefully, you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review on Amazon. Reviews help struggling authors get their books in front of more readers. If for any reason, this book missed the mark for you, please accept my apologies. Hundreds of hours went into its creation and all I can say is “I did my best.” If you want to let me know where it fell short, there will be no bad feelings on my part, I promise. I will take your feedback to heart, and try to improve—if not on this one, then certainly on the next.
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Table of Contents
About This Book
Dedication
Before we begin, a word…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
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br /> Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
A Note From The Author
The Ghosts of Centre Street: A Haunting of Kingston (The Hauntings of Kingston Book 3) Page 13
