Bam yelped and turned around to face Oliver. His brown curls hung flat around his head like withering flowers, and sweat stained his old work-shirt.
“Nothing.” She felt a pang of guilt because she had been thinking of ghosts again and Oliver hated talking about ghosts. “I got the cheque.” She held it up with false cheerfulness.
“Good job, Bam. I’m proud of you, girl.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, his lips burning hot on her skin, and Bam felt a tingle in her crotch.
“Thanks, I wanted more, but—”
“You did fine. This will provide us with a nice little buffer. It’ll give me the opportunity to build a proper kitchen in this place.” He took the cheque from her hand and held it up. “This is absolutely brilliant.”
“Plus, now all the stuff is gone, we can redecorate the living room.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. While the builders do the hotel, we can focus on our little part of the house.”
Bam plucked a piece of plaster from his shoulder. “I’m not very good with the technical stuff, but I’m one hell of a decorator.”
He chuckled, and the sight of his crooked smile made the butterflies in her stomach twirl. Oliver wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever met – his nose was a little too broad for that and his chin was weak – but there was something in the way he spoke and smiled that turned Bam to pudding.
“Let’s go have some lunch.” Oliver put his arm around her shoulders, but Bam pushed him away, her nose wrinkled.
“Get off. You stink!”
Oliver bent forward and wafted the scent from his armpits in her direction with his hand, and Bam screeched and ran away laughing. Oliver chased her into the kitchen, his fingers pulling at her shirt. Bam came to an abrupt stop when she saw the expression on Freya’s face. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a letter in her hand and her brow a knot above her nose.
“What’s up?” Bam slid onto the seat next to her and gave her a worried look.
“This came today from the inheritance lawyer. They missed it somehow, but my aunt wanted me to have it.”
“What does it say?” Oliver took a seat on the other side of Freya and looked over her shoulder at the letter. Bam felt her stomach tighten, and she fiddled nervously with the plastic floral tablecloth that she’d used to bring a bit of colour to the dreary wooden kitchen.
“It’s just insane.” Freya sounded exasperated, and she sat back in the wooden chair, never taking her eyes off the letter. “I knew the woman had issues… but for God’s sake…”
“I’m curious now.” Oliver raised his eyebrows and leaned further forward.
“Okay, I’ll read you bits. It’s very long so I’ll spare you all of it. Here it goes.
“‘Dear Freya,
“‘If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead, and I never had a chance to instruct you with regards to Angel Manor. I will try to leave the instructions as clearly as I can in the journal since you are on your own now.’” Freya turned the letter around to see if there was any mention of a journal.
“I haven’t quite figured out what the journal is, or where it is. It didn’t come with the letter. I’ll have to ask if it got left behind.”
“Go on,” Oliver urged.
“‘Your mother was the natural heir to this house, but she passed over her rights many years ago, and I don’t think she’ll serve as a Guardian. You are humanity’s last hope, Freya. I know you come from a Godless family, but the good Lord has a plan for you, and it is very important that you follow through with that plan. Not just for you, but for all of us. Without the Guardians, the world will be doomed. I don’t know how much your mother has told you about Angel Manor, but it’s different from any other house you will have encountered. It has secrets, which I’ve explained more about in the journal. What you need to know is that this house is not just bricks and mortar. It’s as near alive as any building can be. It was built that way almost two hundred years ago. The house protects the secret, but at the same time that very secret taints the house. It can be cruel and needy, much like an old family member, but it will love you and those who you choose to love too. But be careful, because it can get jealous, and like a scorned lover, the house will lash out, and it may try to hurt you if you don’t treat it properly.’”
Bam’s teeth gnawed on the soft flesh of her bottom lip, and she looked from Freya to Oliver with big round eyes. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. This house is alive?” The walls seemed bigger and darker to her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Oliver hissed between his teeth and rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.
Freya looked up and pursed her lips. “She goes into quoting the Bible here a lot, so I’ll skip that part. But this is where it gets interesting, and really crazy.
“‘In order for you to live your life in relative safety, I have built a safe haven in the West Wing. There, you can live away from the spirits that dwell in the house. We walled up the other wings and used salt in the mortar. The spells in the house are strong, but they are fragile, and I fear for the shadows that you will bring from your previous life. This place gives them strength. Learn the spells to protect yourself. It’s important. Should you ever accidentally release any of the souls, I’ve placed seven golden seals in the main room of this wing. It will be your sanctuary.
“‘During the seasonal equinox, you need to leave the house. Make sure there’s not a single living creature in the house at that time, this is very important. The spirits will feed off their life-force and become stronger.
“‘You will bond with the house the way I have, and once it has you, it will never let you go. The house will destroy itself if it doesn’t have a human bond, and all the secrets will spill from its core. You are blessed as well as cursed.’”
Freya rolled her eyes.
“Yada yada, a whole bit about Jesus saving me, and how he will protect the spirits of the house, and that I must forgive them because they weren’t meant to be evil, but the magic made them that way or something. Here’s another good bit…”
She cleared her throat.
“‘Never enter the basements under the house. They are old and dangerous, and what lurks there is an unspeakable evil. The house is built as a fortress atop the basement. The knowledge of what lies in the dark has been lost for several generations. It’s our duty to protect it.’”
Freya looked up from the letter and pulled her lips into a thin line. “And then there is a bit that says it’s my duty to make sure there are heirs to the house. And she pleads with me to take her message seriously.”
“Holy smokes, Batman.” Bam put her hand over her open mouth and looked from Freya to Oliver.
“More like Holy smokes, Batshit, if you ask me.” Oliver whistled between his teeth, and Bam laughed nervously.
“I know, right?” Freya put the letter down, but she still stared at the blue handwriting, and Bam followed her gaze. The writing was scratchy, with straight thin loops that pushed through the lines on either side, and most of it was illegible to Bam. Her eyes met Freya’s, and she saw her friend’s face change a little.
“You know this is crazy, right, Bam?” Freya looked worried. “No such things as ghosts or spirits. There’s nothing in this house. I think my auntie might have been schizophrenic or something.”
“Oh, right.” Bam’s voice was barely audible. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her heels on the edge of the wooden chair. “There are a lot of rumours around this place.”
“That’s no surprise.” Freya leaned over and kissed her on the head. “There are a lot of stories about this area, so add a house to the mix, inhabited by crazy people, and voila… instant myth. Look at it this way: We’ve been here ten days now and we haven’t seen a single weird thing, so the place really isn’t haunted.”
Bam rested her chin on her knees and bit her lip. Her eyes wandered around the kitchen, then settled on Oliver.
“Except that we all got mysterious nosebl
eeds when we first arrived.”
“Probably just the air up here. We’re quite high up you know.” Oliver waved her words away with a flick of his hand, but Bam wasn’t ready to give up so easily.
“After we all touched the stones? Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?” She saw a darkness in his eyes then, one she’d never seen before, and part of her wanted to give up, but her innate tenacity wouldn’t let it go. “What about that brown stuff we saw? Or how the house suddenly looked a lot better the next day?”
“Come on, we talked about this.” Oliver slammed his palms on the table and got to his feet. “Why do you keep bringing up this bullshit? Bam, there are no ghosts. And until you bring me evidence that they exist, I don’t ever want to talk about this again.” His eyes shifted with an agitated passion that surprised Bam.
“Maybe we should just get those golden plates back… you know, just in case?” Her eyes watered, but she fought the tears. Freya shifted on her seat, clearly uncomfortable. She was the peacemaker, Bam knew, but Bam also knew that Freya was on Oliver’s side in this. Her friend was uncomfortable with the house, but for different reasons than Bam was.
“We can’t. We need the money. I’m not missing out on all that cash just because you’re superstitious, or because of some crazy letter from an even crazier woman.”
She sighed and suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Her legs slid off the chair and she leaned forward.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. For the record, I do believe in ghosts, but you’re right, this house doesn’t have any or we would have noticed by now.” A silence fell over the kitchen, and Oliver looked at Bam with suspicion. She returned his glare with a wet smile. “Promise, I’m not going to bring it up again. Let’s just eat lunch, okay?”
Freya slid her arms around Bam’s shoulders again and squeezed tightly. “Good idea. We should eat.”
They ate their sandwiches in silence, and all Bam could think of was visiting the Portree Community Library later in the week to do some research on the house, and on spirits.
Chapter 6
The minibus buzzed with voices and laughter. The young men referred to themselves as ‘Chancers’. They were a rough bunch, and Logan wouldn’t normally have picked the combination of these six young males in particular, but John had insisted it was time to teach them the ropes on a bigger project. Up until two days ago, seven guys had been picked for the project, but Tyrell Jones, Terrence’s brother, hadn’t shown up. The two brothers were his biggest concern, and Logan had decided not to wait for Tyrell to show his face. He would get another chance down the line as soon as Logan found a way to make the young man feel the consequences of his absence. It was one less troublemaker to worry about, and Logan knew that if he could keep Terrence Jones and Roger Mace in check, the other four would be a cakewalk.
He shifted in his seat and looked at his crew. They ranged from eighteen to twenty, all kids who had felt too little love in their hard young lives and now stood on the brink of adulthood. Logan himself remembered what it was like, and if he hadn’t been saved by a project much like this one, he would probably have ended up in jail, or worse. He loved these boys and he understood them, but he was a strict mentor and took no shit from any of them. They loved him for it, he knew, and he was always happy to see another youngster fly the nest. Logan was only twenty-eight himself, but he sometimes felt like he’d lived a hundred years already.
“Put that cigarette away, Terrence.” He glared at the black guy who smiled at him with an unlit filter cigarette between his straight teeth. “You light that and there will be hell to pay.”
Terrence seemed to contemplate his words for a moment, but then he took the cigarette from his mouth with a dramatic gesture and crammed it back in the almost empty packet.
“So, no love for a fellow London boy then, Logan? Is that how it’s going to be?”
“Rules are rules, Terrence. Doesn’t matter where you’re from.”
Terrence wasn’t a bad kid. Logan liked him more than his brother, but he came from a terrible home and all he knew was how to fight. The only way he knew how to get attention was by acting out. His mother was a junkie who’d tried to clean up her life when she’d left London and moved to Edinburgh. There, she met the boys’ new stepfather, who was a good for nothing son of a bitch who liked to beat both of them bloody. Terrence and Tyrell lived more on the streets than they did in their own home, and Logan often found them a place to stay during the internships. It would be good for Terrence to be away from his stepfather, and Logan decided it might be a blessing in disguise that he would also be away from his brother for a bit. He was intelligent, and Logan hoped he could convince Terrence to do a bit of side-study at some point. First, however, he needed to learn some discipline. All these guys did.
The boys leaned against the seats, bored and sluggish after several hours’ driving. The play fights had died down a bit, and now they were just talking. Two had even fallen asleep. The weather made the minibus hot, and even Jim McLeod, the third mentor, snored softly in his seat. His bald head sagged forwards, and his thick, red beard rested on his ample chest.
“You need a break from driving soon?” Logan peered at John, who shifted in his seat for the fifth time in less than a minute.
“Naw, I’m okay. Me back is just acting up. Can’t wait to get there.”
“Yeah, I wonder what the boys will make of it.”
“They’ll be gutted that there’s no pub nearby.”
“The first few weeks they’ll be too tired to want to go to a pub. We’ll wear them out. And we’ll provide some entertainment at the weekends. Plus, they get to go home for a weekend every fortnight.”
John shook his head and gave Logan a sad glance.
“Naw, lad, most of them won’t want to go home. You know that.”
“Still, got to give them the option.” Logan leaned back and looked out of the window. Nothing but green hills and blue sky. He loved being away from the city. One day, he wanted to build a house of his own and get away from it all, maybe fall in love and get married… a wife and a kid… a few animals. It would be living the dream. He closed his eyes, and the picture of the girl with the black hair appeared in his mind. What was her name again? Freya? He thought of her flushed face, those big grey eyes and the curves on her body, and for a moment, he imagined what it would be like to unbutton her cotton shirt to reveal the flesh beneath. Then Angus Reid and Lyndon Farrow tore him from his daydream with loud laughter. They stood, Lyndon half-leaned over the seat, punching each other in the arms.
“Settle down you two,” Logan snapped, and when they didn’t respond, he raised his voice. “Oi! Settle the fuck down.”
The guys sank back into their seats, each still chuckling. Logan turned around again, but the fantasy of the pretty girl with the black hair was ruined, and he felt a little agitated.
***
The countryside looked dull to nineteen-year-old Terrence Jones. He was still angry with his older brother for skipping out on the project. It wasn’t like Tyrell to not even let him know that he was going to cop out, and though he would never admit it to himself, Terrence was actually a little worried. The prospect of being away from his stepfather was the only good thing about this whole trip, but he had never been away from Tyrell for long and he hoped that Logan would allow his brother to join them later on. Sure Tyrell was a stupid fuck for not being there, and he knew that Logan was angry, but he also knew that Logan was an all right kind of bloke.
Another thing that Terrence didn’t like was that the house they were supposed to be fixing up was in the middle of nowhere. On a fucking island, no less. How much worse could it get? There would be little chance of finding nice looking birds on an island, Terrence had decided, and he’d probably only have old fogey pubs to hang out in. Logan had told them that they would be camping too, until the place was cleared up enough for them to sleep in. Terrence didn’t mind camping. He’d spent enough nights on the streets of Edinburg
h, sleeping on cardboard, to be able to rough it out anywhere. Most of the guys in their crew had been homeless at one point or another.
He looked out his window as they drove up a steep hill, and in the distance he saw the large looming shape of Angel Manor.
“That’s a fucking big house.” Mason Applebaum pointed at the window, and all the guys got up from their seats and moved to get a first glance.
“Is that it, Mr Norris?” Gary Feltman asked.
“That’s it. Angel Manor.”
“Whoever lives there has to be well rich,” Angus muttered. “That looks like a castle.” There were more mutterings in agreement, but Terrence felt a pang of annoyance.
“Don’t be stupid. That’s a mansion, not a castle.” He flicked Angus across his mousy brown locks and made a hissing noise between his teeth.
“Fuck you.”
“That’s enough.” Logan’s voice cut across the bus, and Terrence felt his temper settle down.
“That’s the house that we’re turning into a hotel. Yes it’s big, so it’ll be hard work. I need you guys to be on your best behaviour.”
“Och, we know the speech,” Roger muttered from the back of the minibus, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Well then, I’ll save giving it to you again.” Logan looked at each of the young men and let his gaze linger on Terrence a little longer than on the others. “Three strikes and you’re out: I ship you back home. This will be a wonderful opportunity for you to learn some skills…”
“Oh aye. I got me some mad skills,” quipped Lyndon Farrow, while he half got to his feet and grabbed his crotch. All the boys laughed in response.
“I’m sure you know how to work your tool, Lyndon; just keep it in your pants please. No one wants to see it.” More laughter and a few jeers, and Lyndon sat down again, shaking his head. “Like I said, this will be a good project for all of you. From here, you could go on to work for actual construction companies. This will look great on your CV.”
Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) Page 7
