by Ron Ripley
Herman stepped to the left and cautiously followed the wall. He looked up and down, left and right, searching for the fob. Not until he reached the fireplace did Herman see a glint of silver.
On the mantle, in the exact center, lay the fob. Surprisingly it was free of dust, uncluttered by webs. Cold pulsed from it and made Herman nauseous. He reached out, grasped the ice-like metal, and took it down. Wincing at the pain, Herman turned the fob over in his hand and looked at the inscription.
“To Our Brother,” Herman read aloud, “Vincent Armand, for Loyal Service in the Grand Army of the Republic.”
The hinges screamed as the door was slammed closed, the shutters did the same, and Herman was thrust into darkness.
“Who are you?” a deep, rumbling voice demanded.
Herman tried to answer, but the words refused to exit his mouth. Fear poisoned his thoughts and raised the hackles on his neck.
“Why are you here?” the stranger asked.
Herman backed up a step, and suddenly the cold pressed against him.
“Tell me your name!”
“Herman,” Herman whispered.
“Herman. And do you know my name, Herman?”
Herman nodded in the darkness and said softly, “Vincent.”
“Yes,” Vincent hissed. “It is.”
A bitterly cold hand grabbed his face, and Herman screamed.
Chapter 39: On the Academy’s Grounds
Occasionally, because of his heart attacks, Brian suffered from insomnia. A terrible ailment for anyone, but especially for a man barely over forty. Brian’s only respite was walking. And with all of the turmoil at the Academy, it was the natural destination for a walk. He left the hotel a little after midnight, his phone tucked into one pocket, a bottle of water, and the problem of what to do about Nathaniel Weiss on his mind.
He's manipulative, Brian thought as he walked, moving from the light of one street lamp to the next. But is there more? Is there something else here he wants?
The answer eluded him as Brian strolled along the streets. .
Brian’s solitary late evening walk took him to Northfield Free Academy. He came to a stop and enjoyed the way the buildings looked in the moonlight and the glow of the street lamps. Slowly, he let his eyes roam over the campus, searching for any sign of Weiss, or Gregory Weston.
Why Weston? Brian wondered. What does he bring to this? Why does Weiss want him free?
When he couldn’t see anyone, alive or dead, Brian smiled. The peaceful appearance of the Academy reminded him of how much he enjoyed the solitude of the world at night. It was one of the few aspects of insomnia that he enjoyed, and one which he had difficulty explaining to Jenny.
Brian nodded to himself, took his bottle of water out of the side pocket of his cargo pants, and took a long drink from it. He paused, put the water away, and stretched. He started along the sidewalk again.
Brian looked at the Academy and saw the planetarium. He smiled as he looked at it. I remember the telescope, the way it magnified the night sky.
Brian’s thoughts froze and he stared at the planetarium.
Magnified, Brian thought. What did I read about?
With his eyes closed, Brian tried to picture the books in Leo’s library. The different volumes. The lore on spirits. The way they could grow.
Power, Brian thought, opening his eyes. The more ghosts he controls, the greater his power grows. Weiss wants to get stronger. If he’s the instrument of Weston’s return, then Weston’s violence will increase his power.
Oh, Jesus, Brian thought, how strong can he get?
Nearby, a door slammed shut and interrupted Brian’s train of thought. He saw a small house on the Academy’s grounds and watched the shutters close on their own. For a moment, he stood still.
A moment later, someone inside the building screamed.
Brian raced for the house. He reached the red front door and threw his entire weight against it as another scream tore through the night. The lock snapped with a dry, brittle sound and the door was thrown open.
For the space of a second, Brian stood, panting, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When it did, he saw an old man standing above a crumpled teenager. The man’s attention focused on Brian, a snarl curling the old man’s thin lips.
“Step away from the boy,” Brian snapped.
The man’s eyes widened slightly, and an evil grin replaced the snarl. “And what will you do if I don’t?”
“Whatever I can,” Brian said, stepping into the room as he clenched his hand into a fist, the iron ring biting comfortably into his flesh.
The old man nodded, chuckled and said, “It matters not. I am free.”
The man vanished.
A groan from the teen caught Brian’s attention. He pushed thoughts of the old man away and focused on the boy. He dropped down to his knees, carefully turned the teen’s head to him. Blood trickled from the teenager’s mouth, and the boy’s eyes were rolled back so that only the whites showed.
Brian’s hands shook with the irregular beat of his heart as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed nine-one-one.
Chapter 40: In the Emergency Room
Herman woke up in excruciating pain. His mouth felt afire, and he tasted blood. He looked around and realized he was in a hospital room.
Oh my, God, he thought numbly, the pain quickly forgotten, I am going to be in so much trouble.
He struggled to sit up. When he finally managed to do so, an increase in his heart rate set off an alarm on a monitor. His hand ached, and a glance down showed he had an IV in him. His clothes were gone, and someone had put a hospital gown on him. Herman tried to turn and winced. Pain had exploded in his jaw, and he lay back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights caused him to close his eyes and he let out a long, pained sigh.
I’m so dead, Herman thought. I will be grounded forever. For-absolutely-ever.
The door to the room opened, and he cracked open an eye. A young woman in a nurse’s uniform stepped in.
She saw him, smiled, and said, “How are you feeling, Herman?”
“Terrible,” Herman answered. It hurt to speak.
“I’m sorry,” she replied. “My name’s Lisa. I’m your nurse, okay?”
“Yeah,” Herman said.
“Listen, once the doctor comes in and gets a better look at you, we’ll get you some pain meds,” Lisa said. “Until then, we’re going to have to wait. But she should be in very shortly. We tried calling your parents, but we didn’t get an answer. And the voice mailboxes on both of the phones were full.”
“Yeah,” Herman said. “They’re out.”
“Anybody else we can call for you?” she asked.
“My neighbor, Mrs. Alcott,” Herman said. He gave Lisa the number.
The nurse jotted it down on a notepad and then said, “There is a detective here, who’s interested in what happened to you.”
“Don’t I need my parents or an adult with me?” Herman asked.
“Did you commit a crime?” Lisa asked seriously.
He thought about it for a minute before he answered, “Well, I was trespassing.”
“I don’t think they’re going to punish you for that, not after what happened to you,” Lisa said, smiling kindly.
“Um, what did happen?” Herman said.
“We were hoping you’d be able to tell us,” she said.
“I don’t remember anything,” Herman replied.
“Well, someone ripped out three of your back teeth,” Lisa said. “I’ll be back in a moment with the detective.”
Herman continued to lay down, surprised at what the nurse had said. Cautiously, he probed the right side of his mouth and held back a whimper. His teeth were gone, and it hurt terribly.
Within a few minutes, Lisa returned, accompanied by an older woman who looked like she had been carved out of stone.
“I’m Detective Skillings,” the older woman said, offering her hand.
He shook
it.
“How are you feeling, Herman?” the detective asked, sitting down in a small, plastic chair which looked far too slight to hold up her weight.
“Terrible,” Herman replied.
“Fair enough,” Skillings said.
“Do you need me to stay, Herman?” Lisa asked.
He shook his head. “Could you call Mrs. Alcott, though?”
“Absolutely,” Lisa said. She smiled and left the room.
Detective Skillings looked at him for a moment. In a surprisingly gentle voice, she asked, “Do you remember what happened to you?”
Herman thought about it and realized he couldn’t. “No. I don’t.”
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”
“I was standing outside of the Mather House,” Herman said.
“You were found inside of it,” she said. “Tell me, Herman, why were you there?”
Herman was a terrible liar. His face reddened, and he stuttered briefly as he tried to answer. Detective Skillings watched him patiently and finally, Herman sighed.
“I was going to go in and look for something,” he said.
“What?”
He didn’t even bother trying to lie. “A silver fob.”
She looked at him, confused. “A fob?”
“Yeah,” Herman said. “A sort of charm, I guess, for a pocket watch’s chain.”
“How did you know it was there?” the detective asked.
Herman didn’t want to tell her the truth, and he couldn’t lie. So he didn’t say anything at all.
“Herman,” she said, “how did you know?”
He shrugged.
She looked at him, and Herman turned his face away from her. He heard her stand up, leave the room, and come back in a moment later.
“Herman,” she said.
He looked at her and was surprised to see a man with her. He was taller than the detective, broad shouldered and bald. Thin, vivid scars stood out on his scalp.
The man folded his arms over his chest and said pleasantly, “Hello Herman, my name’s Brian.”
“Hi,” Herman said. “Are you a police officer too?”
Brian shook his head. “I am working with the detective right now, though. I have a question for you, if that’s alright?”
Herman shrugged.
“Herman, did you go to the Mather House because someone asked you to?” Brian said.
Herman swallowed nervously and said, “Yes.”
“You went in to get the fob,” Brian said, “because someone wanted it?”
Herman nodded.
“Did Weiss tell you to bring the fob to him?” Brian asked.
Herman’s eyes widened, and he stared at Brian. “How did you know about Mr. Weiss?”
“I have seen him on the campus,” Brian said. “And he would be the only one to send you on an errand like that.”
“He’s really nice,” Herman said hurriedly. “If he had known about what could happen, he wouldn’t have sent me.”
“Really?” Brian said skeptically. “Have you spoken to him since it occurred?”
“No,” Herman said, “and I don’t even know what happened.”
“You were attacked,” Detective Skillings said. “You were beaten, and someone pulled three of your teeth out. Brian was passing by and heard you screaming.”
“Mr. Nathaniel Weiss is not a good man,” Brian said coldly. “Nor is he a nice man, unless he needs to be. You were a means to an end.”
Herman’s face grew hot, and he looked away. “He’s nice to me.”
“And you’ve helped him before, haven’t you?” Detective Skillings asked.
Herman nodded.
“Did you say any other names for him?” Brian said.
“Yes,” Herman replied.
“Did you say,” and Brian hesitated before he continued. “Did you say the name, Charlie Roy?”
Again Herman nodded. The three of them went silent, the various sounds of the ER filling the room.
Finally, Herman asked, “Are you going to tell my parents?”
“No,” Detective Skillings said. “They may notice, however, when the statement from their medical insurance shows up in the mail.”
“They won’t notice,” Herman said sadly, then thought, They’re too drunk to even open the mail most days.
“Herman,” Brian said. “Did you move any objects for Mr. Weiss?”
“Yeah,” Herman said. “A trophy and a book. I left them on the first floor of Adrienne Hall, in a doorway.”
“Nothing else?” Brian asked.
Herman shook his head.
Brian turned to the detective and said, “Beth, I’m going to go back to my hotel. I need to read up a little on the Academy. I need to see if there were any other instances like these.”
“Sure,” Detective Skillings said. “I have your number.”
“Herman,” Brian said, facing him. “If the detective gives you my number, will you call or text me if you remember anything else?”
“Yes,” Herman said, “I will.”
“Good,” Brian said. He nodded to each of them and then left the room.
Herman was alone with the detective. She smiled reassuringly at him and said, “I’ll wait until Mrs. Alcott gets here. And no, I won’t tell her how it happened. I’ll leave that to you.”
“Thanks,” Herman said. He closed his eyes, listened to the steady beep of the medical machinery, and waited for Mrs. Alcott to arrive.
Chapter 41: Researching History
At a little past two in the morning, Brian pushed his chair away from the table, stood up, and stretched. For over an hour, he had been reading about ghosts, the way they increased their power, and what Weiss might be able to do with it.
He’ll be able to bring himself back, Brian thought tiredly. Permanent possession of someone. Someone impressionable. Someone willing to help.
Herman, Brian thought, sighing and rubbing his eyes. He’ll want Herman, and the boy wants to help. The boy doesn’t seem to care much for his parents either.
Then there’s the whole issue of how long Weiss has been gathering the dead around him, Brian reminded himself. He had spent a good part of the evening digging through the internet, searching for anything about the Academy and strange occurrences.
He had found them, too, 1980 and 1981. Brian glanced at the laptop.
Lots of trouble then, he thought. Beatings, a few accidental deaths. A fire. And 1980 was the year the library had been opened. The old Weiss home.
Did someone find something? Brian wondered, walking over to the bureau. He picked up a bottle of water, took the cap off, and took a long drink. He was tired. I need to sleep.
Images of Charlie flickered past his mind’s eye, and Brian sighed as he put the water down. He walked over to the bed, sat down, and pulled off his shoes. Once more, his gaze was drawn to the laptop, to the article he had left up.
It was from The Northfield Bulletin, the city’s local paper. The story was about the Academy. The library and the new director, Bradley Marion, who had previously worked at the Otis Library downtown.
Is he still alive? Brian wondered, undressing. Was he the one who was the cause of the trouble? Did he even know it?
Brian got up, went to the air conditioner, and turned it on, setting it at sixty-five. He rubbed the back of his head.
Should I look for him now? There has to be some record of him.
No, Brian told himself, shaking his head. Go to bed. Get some sleep. Go at it in the morning.
Brian nodded, pulled the blankets and sheet down, climbed in, and got comfortable. He turned out the light, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep.
It wouldn’t come.
He remembered Charlie. He remembered Charlie’s funeral. Brian could picture the casket, white with silver fittings and brackets for the handles. The lid had been closed, of course. Neither his mother nor his father had wanted to see their son in a box. Brian hadn’t wanted to see his brother in it either.
Brian opened his eyes, turned the light back on, and went to the computer.
Let’s see if Bradley Marion is still alive, Brian thought. I don’t think I’ll sleep much tonight.
The keys of the laptop clicked loudly in the room as Brian began to search for the librarian.
Chapter 42: The Past Returns
Bradley Marion lived in Nutmeg Pavilion, an advanced-care nursing facility. He was fortunate, having a room to himself, but it was small comfort most days. There had been no room for his books, and he missed them; far more than his deceased wife, or his deceased mistress. Or even his children who had convinced the State of Connecticut that it would be in Bradley’s best interest to be placed in Nutmeg, to begin with.
Bradley chuckled.
And how well did that work out? he thought.
He had asked his son and daughter the same question many times. When he had heard about their efforts from a neighbor who worked in the court system, Bradley had made plans of his own. He knew his children wanted the house. The grand Victorian was only a few minutes from Mohegan Sun and Foxwood casinos, and it sat on four acres of land.
With the help of a lawyer, Bradley had crafted a finely-tuned living will. It made certain that should he be placed in an assisted living facility, the property would be donated to Northfield Free Academy. Including all of his belongings as well.
Ah, the outrage, Bradley thought, smiling. Oh, how offended they had been.
He pulled his blanket tighter around him. At eighty-six years of age, he was not in the best of health, and in spite of the room’s warmth, Bradley was still cold.
