Witch Souls to Save: A Brimstone Bay Mystery (Brimstone Bay Mysteries Book 4)

by N. M. Howell

  “She said she’d burn us to the ground if we spoke to anybody. But I couldn’t help it.” Tears streamed down the little girl’s face, the oil paint tears glistened in the dim light that crept into the room through the cracks in the window boards.

  I shook my head incredulously, trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. I turned my camera on again and flicked through the images, but still, no faces appeared in the picture frames. I turned it off again and stared at the camera. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. I was a witch, after all. It’s not like I haven’t seen strange things like this before.

  I raised my hand up slowly towards the frame, but held it frozen in place in front of my face. I can bring myself to touch the painting. It would confirm that all this is real, and not a dream. I rub my eyes and tried to think, but I couldn’t come up with anything.

  “How is it that you’re talking to me right now?”

  The little girl shrugged. “I don’t know. Same way that you’re talking to me right now, I guess.”

  I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair as I let out a deep breath I had been holding. “No, you’re a painting. I’m a real person. I just don’t understand how a painting is talking to me right now. I must be on drugs.”

  “I’m a painting?” More tears began streaming down the girl’s face.

  My eyes widened even more. “Of course, you’re a painting. Did you not know you’re a painting?”

  The little girl shook her head again and wiped a tear from her eye. “No. I’ve been trapped here for a while and I miss home.”

  I stared at her and gasped. “Oh my God. You’re trapped in the painting?”

  I push myself up off the chair and began pacing the room. My thoughts are going wild in my head, but I still couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening. There was a little girl dropped in the painting. I was in a large house owned by a strange woman with an even stranger art collection. Some of that art was alive. I was inside a house with art that could talk. None of it made sense, but if a little girl was in fact trapped in the painting, I absolutely had to find a way to help her.

  I suspected that there was dark magic at work, and if I had any hope of saving the girl, I had to save myself, first.

  I stepped as close as I could to the painting and stood on my tiptoes, so my mouth reached the little girl’s ear. “Who are you?” I whispered. The girl looked down at me and sniffed, tears still streaming down her delicate small face.

  “My name is Scarlet. Please, I miss my mom and dad. Please, can you help me?”

  I nodded and brushed the hair back from my face, doing everything I could to not cry in front of the girl. “I’ll find your parents, don’t worry. Just stay quiet and I’ll go get help, okay?”

  The girl nodded and did as she was told, staring out in front of her as still as her portrait had been before. I stepped cautiously to the next painting of the two movers and they came to life as well. Both of their eyes were wide and they looked worried. “Get out of here while you can. Don’t let her add you to her collection.”

  “What collection? What are you talking about? Who are you, and how did you get in the paintings?” My voice came out a low whisper, quivering from the nerves that shook my entire body. I wrap my arms around my stomach as I stood there, my skin growing colder by the second. “You’re the guys from the restaurant yesterday, aren’t you?”

  The larger man opened his mouth to begin to speak, but I heard footsteps coming down the hall. My heart froze in my chest and I shook out the tension in my arms as I blew out a deep breath to steady myself.

  “Save yourself,” one of the men whispered to me. They both then took their same positions in froze, and had I not just spoken with them, I wouldn’t have even known there was anything strange about the painting.

  The footsteps grew louder, and I frantically trying to figure out what to do or say so as to not get myself mixed up in all this.

  I walked towards the door of the dining room with one last glance back at the paintings. The paintings were still, showing no sign that they had moved at all. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door frame and found myself face-to-face with Mrs. Hemingway.

  Chapter 9

  The old woman couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, her back hunched over slightly and she walked with a cane. Her hair was done up in an elegant up-do, complete with pearls and diamonds that matched the long strings on her neck. She wore a long gown of deep purple velvet and exuded a wealthy elegance that I hadn’t seen outside of the movies. The woman gave me the creeps.

  “What do you think of my collection, dear?” her voice was husky and high-pitched, like nails on a chalk board. She smiled a mischievous sly smile as she narrowed her eyes up at me and waited for a response.

  I swallowed loudly as I cleared my throat. My legs were shaking as the knowledge that the woman in front of me was likely responsible for what I had just seen. “It’s lovely,” I lied. “You must’ve been collecting these for years. Do you purchase them or do you have them commissioned yourself?” When I took one more step through the door frame to get a clear view down the hall towards the front door, the woman stepped in front of me. The energy emanating off her was fierce, and my skin prickled and burned from the raw power. It was as if some invisible pressure was pushing on me from all sides, and I knew right then that she was a witch, as well.

  I hadn’t sensed it in the dark room where I first met her, but I also hadn’t been consciously paying attention, either. It was clear now that this woman was some sort of witch, and the energy I felt was raising all sorts of red flags in my inner radar. She was not someone you messed with, that was for sure. It was clear from her power, but also from the sharp look in her eye that made me take a defensive step back.

  “Oh, I have all my paintings commissioned, dear. Aren’t they beautiful? Each one is so dear to me. Do you have a favorite?”

  I shook my head and put my hands in my pockets to stop them from shaking. “No, I haven’t had a chance to see them all yet. Just the first few in this room. It’s awfully dark, though. Do you mind if we turn on some lights?”

  Mrs. Hemingway shook her head and her pearls clattered as she moved. “No, the wiring in this house has been shot since I moved in. It’s unfortunate, really. These paintings really do deserve to be displayed in all their glory.”

  I swallowed. “They sure do. Why not open the windows and remove the boards? That would let some light in.”

  “Oh, no, no. My old skin is far too delicate for the sunlight. Besides, sunlight damages the paintings, dear.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I did my best to stop the quiver in my voice. “Right.”

  “Well, dear, why don’t I take you on a tour of the rest of the collection. Come, follow me. Let me show you the upstairs. I think you will love what you’ll see.”

  The frail old woman led me down the hall and up the stairs to the second floor of her home. I slipped my phone out of my back pocket and began texting Bailey to see if she could meet me, but there was no reception in the house, and I reluctantly put the phone back in my pocket. I glanced back at the front door and made a mental note to run if I felt in danger at all. The woman seemed kind enough, but whatever she was doing with these paintings was freaking me out, and as soon as I was out of there I would get to the bottom of it. Until then, I would have to try and get as much information out of her as I could. “How long did you say you lived here?”

  “I didn’t, dear,” the old lady said from in front of me. She was moving very slowly, taking one step at a time up the creepy stairs with help from her cane in one hand and the wooden handrail in the other. I followed close behind, careful not to take my eyes away from her. I was confident that I could hold my own against an old woman, but I learned you could never underestimate someone’s powers simply by looking at them. Considering Mrs. Brody was one of the most powerful witches I knew, she just happened to be one of the smallest and most frail looking wom
en on this planet as well. No, size wasn’t an indication of power.

  After what felt like five grueling minutes, we finally reached the second floor of the house. There was more light up there, and I noticed one of the windows at the far end of the hallway was open. As she led me down the corridor, I noticed the window was, in fact, broken. Maybe a bird or stone, but whatever the cause, I was grateful for the light that was allowed into the space. The hallway was covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust, and her shoes made footprints on the dirty floor. It was clear that the place hadn’t been cleaned in years, and I wondered when was the last time the old woman had been up there. From what I understood, she had recently moved into the house. But by the layers of dust and the accumulation of other strange items, it seemed to me that she had been there for decades.

  “Just in here, dear,” the woman said as she stepped through a narrow doorway and into a dark room. I followed her in, and she closed the door behind us. I took a few steps away from her and looked around the room, but there was nothing but an empty canvas on one wall and a set of chairs up against the other. I swallowed hard and tried to calm the beating in my chest.

  I shook my head and looked down at the woman in front of me. “I don’t understand. What’s in this room?”

  “You’ve got this wonderful energy about you,” the old woman croaked. “You’d make a lovely addition to my collection. I get ever so lonely.”

  I took another step back as my heart began to race again. I shook my head, “I don’t understand. What are you doing to these paintings? I know you’re a witch. Please, tell me what you’ve done to your portraits and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

  The woman stepped forward and placed both hands on her cane to steady herself. “You’re a smart girl, young River Halloway. But not smart enough, it would seem. It’s not what I’ve done to the paintings, but what the paintings have done to their hosts.” She began cackling maniacally, and I shuddered as a shiver crept up my spine.

  I took a step back but was met by the far wall. I pressed my back up against the damp drywall and stared down at the woman. I opened my mouth, but the words came out as a stutter. I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Do you mean to say those portraits are real people?”

  The woman nodded and took another step forward. “Well, of course, dear. How else do you think an old lady such as myself keeps company? These portraits are my family, as I do get ever so lonely.” She took another step towards me.

  I took another deep breath and ran for the door, but when I turned the handle it was locked. I pulled and pushed the door as hard as I could, but it didn’t budge. I turned towards the woman and glared. “Unlock the door. Now.”

  The woman shook her head slowly and tisked. “I’m afraid not, dear. I’ve grown tired of my family and could do with some fresh conversation. This will take but a moment.”

  The old woman closed her eyes and waved her hands in the air in front of her, her cane dropping to the floor with a soft clatter. The air in the room grew warm, and I felt pressure build around me. I shook my head violently and pulled and pushed on the door again, but to no avail. I screamed for help and ran towards the small window on the other side of the room. It was boarded-up from the outside, and I tried to open the sliding window, but it was locked, too. “Help!” I screamed through the window. I listened for a moment, but there was no answer. Her property was so large that there was no way anyone would hear me. Not that there would have been anyone outside on the street to listen, anyway.

  I fell to my knees and stared up at the old woman, desperation consuming my voice. “I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but it’s a mistake. Please, let me go. I can help you. You don’t have to be lonely.”

  “The air began to move about the room like a mild tornado, and the woman’s tidy up-do loosened in the wind and wisps of gray hair flew about her face. “Oh, I’ve dealt with my loneliness quite sufficiently. I’ve had some interesting people come to my home, and they made excellent additions to my family collection. But as everyone knows, family can grow tiring after a while. I think you are exactly what I need to brighten my day.”

  Tears began streaming down my face as I felt completely helpless and mortified at what she had done to those people. I still didn’t quite understand how she had captured them in the frames, but thinking back to the emptiness of the little girl and the two men in the restaurant, I had a feeling it had something to do with drawing out their personalities and fusing them with the paintings. “What exactly are you going to do to me?”

  “Same as the rest, dear. I’m merely going to take your soul.”

  “You’ll never get away with this. I live with four very powerful witches, and they’ll put a stop to this. Just you wait. They know I’m here. It’s just a matter of time before they arrive.”

  The old woman rolled her eyes and laughed a slow, dark laugh. “Nobody’s coming, dear. Now hold still and smile, or else I’ll capture your bad side in the portrait. We don’t want that now, do we?”

  I glared at the woman and shut my eyes, covering my face with my hands. If it was a portrait she wanted, I was sure as hell wasn’t going to let her have my face.

  The energy in the room felt as if a wash of cold water was flooding through my veins. The woman laughed, and I collapsed onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling as my mind went numb. Her cackling increased, and I knew in my heart that she had gotten what she wanted. I no longer felt like myself. It was as if all trace of who I had been was drawn out of me, and I was nothing but an empty shell.

  “One of my masterpieces, I would say. What do you think?” The old lady stepped back and admired the portrait on the wall. I slowly rolled over onto my side to look and saw my face looking down at me with empty eyes. I stared up at myself, no longer feeling any emotion, no longer afraid or confused. I merely stared and felt nothing as I looked into my own dead eyes.

  “It always takes some time for my family to open up and talk, so I’m going to go have a rest, now. You can see yourself out, I trust.” The old lady slowly walked out of the room, leaving me alone on the floor, empty and cold.

  I lay there for a long while, staring up at my portrait. Finally, I pushed myself up and walked absentmindedly out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs. Putting one foot in front of the next in careful precision, I descended the stairway and walked out the front door and made my way numbly down the winding driveway to where I had locked my bike up. I stared absently at my bike for a moment and then walked right passed it, making my way one step at a time towards town and away from the house that had captured my soul.

  Chapter 10

  Everything seemed… dull. The sun had long set, and the road was illuminated by dim streetlamps. Even the shadows appeared empty. The familiar whistle of the wind through the trees down the winding streets of Brimstone Bay had dulled to a muted hum. I stood under the faded glow of the lamp and stared blankly down the street. Did I recognize this place? I didn’t quite know where I was or where I was going.

  I began walking down the road, wandering no where in particular. My mind had no idea where I was going, but my feet seemed to have some clue. My pace was steady as I walked, my surroundings nothing more than a dull blur in my peripheral vision. My mind was blank, and all I could picture was a strange gray noise in the back of my head. I had no worries or anticipation. I just… was.

  About an hour later, I finally arrived at the main street and noticed the light was on in the second story window of the building I stopped in front of. I knew that place. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on how.

  Slowly, I walked up the stairs and opened the door and took a seat in a chair in the back of the room. A woman was busy at her desk and didn’t pay me any mind as I came in. A small metal label on her desk read JoAnn.

  I flipped open a small, flat machine in front of me and gazed forward, unable to think of what I should even be doing. My eyes lost focus, and I stared at the fuzzy screen; the world an empty she
ll around me. Where was I, again?

  “Everything okay, River?” JoAnn asked after a few long minutes had passed. I could barely hear her words. They sounded muffled and insistent. I couldn’t bring myself to answer and continued staring forward at the fuzzy screen before me. Do I answer her? Her words echoed in my mind. I tried to respond, but my mouth just hung open in silence.

  JoAnn snapped her fingers and waved her hands in front of my face, but still, I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t even muster up the energy to blink, let alone speak to her. I wouldn’t even know what to say. I could barely remember who she was. Who was I, again?

  JoAnn continued to snap and wave to no avail, and eventually, she went back and sat down at her desk and picked up the phone. She dialed and hung up numerous times until she finally began making noise. Her voice sounded like a muffled buzzing, and I couldn’t quite make up the words she said. She sounded frantic. A moment later, she was at my desk and pulling me out of my chair. I followed, slowly. Every move I made felt like I was moving through tar. The air held me back, my movements almost as sluggish and paralyzed as my brain

  I followed mindlessly, letting her direct me down the stairs. Her hands pressed firmly on my shoulders as I placed one foot in front of the other. She led me into a noisy room filled with people, their energy confusing an overwhelming. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to mute out the sound, but it proved to be too much for me. I turned and walked out the door.

  I didn’t get far, though, as Joanne got hold of my wrist and began pulling me through the noisy space. The people around me were a blur as I walked through the crowd, towards a quieter room in the back of the building. I was overwhelmed by the sounds and smells, all somewhat familiar at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  Finally, we settled in a quiet room and JoAnn sat me down.

  “I’m sorry to bring her in like this but I thought Jordan would be able to help her. I didn’t know what else to do.”