Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1)

by Noordeloos, Chantal

  Freya’s hands squeezed the cup. She felt so silly. She didn’t want to talk about her weird connection to Angel Manor, but she didn’t want the conversation to be over yet either. It was nice to have Logan to herself for a little while, to talk to him and listen to his deep and even voice, to look into those bright green eyes of his. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him, but pushed the thought from her mind when she felt a hot blush creep up on her cheeks.

  “How about you, what got you into this job?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  Freya looked around the kitchen before shrugging her shoulders. “I have the time.”

  A smile spread across Logan’s lips and he exhaled a mock sigh. “Very well.”

  His eyes rolled up to the ceiling for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, and Freya leaned in a little. She could smell his aftershave mixed with a hint of body odour, and the butterflies in her stomach danced in response.

  “I started with the Chancers ten years ago, only then I wasn’t a coach, I was one of the kids.” His eyes pierced into hers, his face a mask of expectation.

  “Wow, it’s great to see that the project can be such a success for people,” Freya said, giving him an awkward smile while inwardly cursing herself for being so lame.

  “It is. That’s why I wanted to stick with it and pay it forward. I was eighteen when John Norris approached me in Edinburgh. I didn’t have an education and I had no real place to go. I’d run away from London years before, lived everywhere and nowhere. Like you, I had a mother who was unbalanced, only mine tried to balance herself out by doing drugs. Never knew my father. Needless to say, I dropped out of secondary school when I was fifteen, and I ran away from home. I did a bit of thieving here and there, nothing too terrible, but enough to give me a record. The Chancers saved my life. I would have gone downhill from where I was. Having a proper job can give a misguided lad a new sense of self respect, it did that for me.”

  “And here you are, helping others out.”

  “Yeah, and it’s a great feeling. Though it’s always tough when you find out that some people just don’t take it seriously.”

  “You mean the two boys who ran away?” Freya pulled her foot onto the chair, resting her chin on her knee.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened to them?”

  “I went to the police station in Portree yesterday. You know, just in case. Their mums don’t know anything, but that doesn’t surprise me much. They didn’t spend a lot of time at home, if you know what I mean.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “Well, it’s two guys with a track record for running away. Both of them are legally adults, so I don’t think the police will be looking too thoroughly.”

  “Do you think something’s happened to them?”

  “I hope not, but as long as I don’t know where they are, it’ll eat at me, you know? I’d go look myself, but I wouldn’t know where to start. You know, I expected this from Roger Mace, but Lyndon disappearing bothers me. He’s just… not as much of a troublemaker. I’d have thought if any two were to run off, it would have been Terrence and Roger, not Lyndon and Roger.” He tapped his index finger on his lips, his eyes narrow. “In fact, something that Terrence said keeps nagging at me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he wouldn’t be surprised if they were still in the house.”

  Freya sat up straight, her raised leg slid off the chair and landed on the ground.

  “In the house? Why would they do that?”

  “Don’t worry, I think he’s wrong. If they were hiding in the house, we would have found them by now. They’ve been missing for three days. I don’t think they would go that far with a joke. They’d need to eat, after all, so unless one of the other guys is in on it, they’re not here. I don’t see the point of such an elaborate prank anyway.”

  The thought of two young men roaming around Angel Manor without supervision unnerved Freya. She bit the edge of her thumbnail.

  “I hope you’ll find them soon.”

  ***

  It was cold where Bam was, but she could feel the warmth of the two nearby. The house was so much larger now, and her mind was clouded with the confusion of the newly deceased. She was an echo of the person she had been, and she was trying her very best to cling on to what little remained of her sanity. Her body had died somewhere far away, but her soul had never left, not since the day she’d first set foot in Angel Manor. Her soul was strong, as all the recently dead’s were, still very much tied to her previous existence, and her thoughts were still a clear reminder of who she had been. Part of her didn’t truly understand that she was dead, though in time her essence would dilute and become increasingly part of the house, as the others had.

  She could sense the presence of the other spirits in the house, tormented and trapped, just like she was. Her soul felt so tired, but Bam knew she would never rest, not as long as the house imprisoned her. She would only lose herself more and more to this building as it fed on her. Before she lost the last bit of her humanity, she had to warn Freya. There was something in here with them. Not the spirits. Something bigger. More dangerous. It was currently dormant, but not fully asleep either. Whatever it was, it demanded sacrifice. She felt its pull humming softly like white noise.

  In her current state, she could see things she’d never seen in life, like the souls and the chains of pure energy binding them to the house. She had a chain of her very own, and through the bright white light she saw a red and black vein pumping with poison.

  The house around her was very much alive. Partially because of the spells that kept it together, but also because of the unseen force spreading out through the bricks and mortar like thin black spidery veins, filling the building with darkness. Whatever this force was, it was buried deep, but not deep enough.

  Bam lamented the loss of her life. She had been too young to die and her spirit was frightened and confused. She was a lost soul, so when she saw Freya sitting at the table in the kitchen, alive and well, talking to the man she liked, something in Bam broke. She saw the hot pulses of body heat, the rhythmic beating of both hearts and the signs of sexual excitement in them both. Bam was perfectly torn between a feeling of love and hate.

  Chapter 16

  Terrence couldn’t sleep. The temperature in the house was stifling, not helped by the fact that he shared the same room with the three other guys and the counsellors. Plus, Mr McLeod snored like a drowning warthog. He’d preferred the tents. Surely if they were going to sleep in the house, there should be at least two rooms available to them. This place was big enough.

  He pushed the thin sheet away from his wiry body and carefully crawled off the mattress. He didn’t want to wake anyone, but he needed to stretch his legs for a while, so he cautiously placed his foot between the sleeping forms of Angus and Mason. A loud, unexpected snort from Mr McLeod almost caused him to step on Gary’s outstretched hand, and the scare made him suppress a laugh as he snuck out of the room. Once he closed the door behind him, he felt like he could breathe easier. With a little lift in his step, he made his way through the dark corridors of Angel Manor.

  The house appeared different at night, away from the other people who filled the solemn rooms with laughter and banter. The night made the building seem strange… unfamiliar. Ceilings appeared higher and corridors wider. Colours became muted monochromes. The moon peeked in through the long, glass windows, shining brightly enough inside for Terrence to walk comfortably without a torch. His eyes were already accustomed to the dark. The sound of his footsteps echoed dully off the walls, making him sound bigger than he really was, and for a moment, Terrence pictured himself as an important man taking a leisurely stroll through his own mansion. He opened one of the doors and walked through the room to a set of balcony doors. He fiddled with the lock, but it was stuck.

  A movement caught the corner of his eye, and his heart lurched in his chest.

  “W
ho’s there?” Terrence wished he’d brought a torch with him now, or a knife. There was no answer. It was cold here, and his body shivered. “If this is someone fucking with me, I’m going to punch your face in.”

  “Don’t do that, bro,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Terrence jolted and turned.

  “Tyrell?” His eyes widened and his mouth hung slack. “What the fuck are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

  “You called me, bro.”

  “Like hell, I did. How the fuck did you even get in here, man?” Terrence’s brain fought to catch up with this new development, and it took him a few seconds to feel the happiness of seeing his brother again.

  “Now, that would be tellin’ wouldn’t it?” Tyrell threw his head back and laughed, and then he snapped forward again and gave Terrence an unsettling look. Terrence wanted to run up and hug his brother, but there was something about the way Tyrell was standing, the way he looked, that stopped him in his tracks.

  “Where did you go, T? Why didn’t you come on the project with us?”

  “I ran into a little bit of trouble, bro.” His brother didn’t move, just stood there, waving on his feet as if he were a flag in the wind. “Actually… I ran into a lot of trouble.” There was pain in his voice, but no real expression crossed his features, just like one of those Botox bitches on TV looked: a flat, expressionless mask.

  “Well you’re here now. Logan will be proud.”

  “I came because you called me here.”

  “You keep saying that. I didn’t call you. My phone don’t work up here.”

  “They hurt me, Terrence. They hurt me real bad.”

  Terrence took a step forward, squinting his eyes to get a better look at his brother, but Tyrell was shrouded by the shadows in the empty room.

  “Who hurt you, T?”

  “They found me with Billy Sanders.”

  “Billy the Queer? What the fuck were you doing with Billy the Queer?”

  “I loved him, bro.” The voice sounded sad and haunted, and Terrence’s muscles tensed.

  “Nah, man. Don’t sell me that bullshit. You ain’t gay.” But his heart sank because he knew he was wrong. His brother had always been a little different, and though they never talked about it, Terrence had known. His stepfather had suspected it too, and he was even rougher on Tyrell than he’d been on him.

  “I loved him, bro,” Tyrell repeated.

  “I don’t think this is the time to talk about this, T. Let’s wait until morning, you know… just… I haven’t seen you in weeks. It’s a bit sudden and shit.”

  “I don’t know how much time I have.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “My mind… I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I’m fading fast. This house… it’s stronger than I am.”

  “Have you done fucking drugs again?”

  “Listen to me, Terrence. Don’t go down to the basement. There are things in there… they’re awake but trapped, and they’re hungry. So very hungry.”

  “You’re creeping me out, T. I don’t like this. It’s not fucking funny.”

  “Don’t go into the basement, Bro. Get out of this house while you still can. Though I’m not sure it will let you go.”

  “Cut it out, Tyrell. This isn’t funny. I’m going to smash your face in if you don’t stop with the bullshit.”

  “You called me here, and now I’m trapped in this house.”

  Terrence felt his frustration turn into fury, and he stepped forward to lash out at his brother, but his fist found empty air. Terrence shrieked.

  “What the fuck! What the fuck?!” He couldn’t get his voice below anything more than a loud, high-pitched shriek.

  “They hurt me, bro. They hurt me so bad.” The soft voice of his brother was audible even over his own screaming, and Terrence noticed his sibling’s bruised face. He had looked normal only seconds ago, but now his jaw and nose were clearly broken and his eyes were swollen. “You brought me here.”

  “No, man. No. What the fuck is going on?” Tears welled up in his eyes and fell down his cheeks in long glistening trails. “Am I dreaming this?”

  “This house, there’s something with this house. It gives us a form, but it takes something from us too.”

  “Who is ‘us’, T?” Terrence’s face twisted with grief, his mouth pulled back in a grimace, tears and snot gathering on the groove above his upper lip. Everything in his mind told him to run, but Terrence stood rooted to the spot. “Who is ‘us’?”

  “You know, Terrence. I can see it in your heart.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I don’t even know if I’m seeing you or if I’m dreaming this.”

  The figure stepped forward, flickering out of existence for a second, and then reappeared right in front of Terrence’s face. “You think this is a dream, little brother? You think you’re having a nightmare?” Tyrel’s hand grasped Terrence’s wrist, and he screamed in fear. The touch was painful and strange, as if he were held by hot air rather than a fist, yet he couldn’t pull loose.

  “I don’t know, T. Let me go, man.”

  “This is not a dream, brother. This place will swallow you whole if you don’t get out.” The apparition rested its head against Terrence’s, and unlike the phantom hand, the head felt cold and clammy. Terrence whimpered, but he didn’t dare pull away. He just shivered and cried. “It got me, and it wants me to get you too, so that you stay here with the rest of us. But I can’t do that to you, bro. I love you too much. I don’t know for how much longer I’ll love you, but I do now.”

  “What should I do?” His voice was barely audible over his sobs, but the spirit knew what he’d said.

  “Leave.”

  ***

  The new souls hadn’t gone unnoticed by those already connected to the house. Their presence fed the very essence of Angel Manor, and Sister Agatha, who was linked to the house in a way only one other was, felt a surge of energy through her core. She felt the hunger grumbling in the depths of the building like a famished predator waiting to leap on its prey.

  The autumn equinox was nearing, and that would bring the house to life. There were too many living within the walls of Angel Manor, and their energy would feed the dead. Sister Agatha would have to find a way to communicate with the child of the bloodline, but she hadn’t communicated with the living for so long, she wasn’t sure she could pull herself together enough to warn the girl. The presence of the living was making her stronger, she felt that much, so perhaps there was a way.

  The lost souls roamed through the halls, and more would come. The living always brought their dead, and the house would always adopt them. The girl who had bonded with the house stood on a threshold. She would have to choose between who she was and who the house wanted her to become. A choice that Agatha herself had made when she’d died. There were few like Agatha who had been able to resist the pull of Angel Manor’s darkness, but the nun hoped the girl would fight the urge to give in.

  Sister Agatha froze as another presence entered her domain.

  “Who dares?” The words were mere thoughts, but the other spirit understood them, and the image of Sister Anne materialised, a spirit who she hadn’t encountered since she had been alive.

  “How did you get free?”

  The spirit smiled at her, and though her face was pretty and sweet, there was a wolf behind that smile and a darkness in her eyes that frightened Sister Agatha.

  “The one I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived. She will set us all free, Agatha. Even you. You can’t protect them anymore.”

  “You wanted to protect everyone at one time, remember?”

  A flicker of emotion crossed the spirit’s features, and for a moment Agatha saw the soft-hearted Anne who had given her life to save the children. Then the face hardened and the wolf grin returned, filled with hunger and bloodlust.

  “That’s not what the house wants, Agatha. We must appease it, for it serves the sleeping
master.” The nightgown flowed around Anne’s form as if she were surrounded by water, the white fabric billowing in the still air, and her red locks writhing like live tentacles.

  “The master is appeased by the sacrifice we made. No more blood needs to flow, Anne. That’s why we cast the spells, remember?”

  “Can you not feel the hunger?”

  She could. She felt it in every part of her being. The others could feel it too: the sisters in the basement, the members of the bloodline who were buried outside the house and no longer able to pass the threshold of Angel Manor.

  “Are you keeping the living here?”

  “I can’t, and you know it. I can only tempt them to stay. Only the child of the bloodline can bind them to the house… to the spell. Only she can force them to stay, not I.”

  “What about the boy you killed?”

  “I didn’t kill him, he killed himself. I just made him see it was the right thing to do.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t let him go.”

  “Why would I let any of them go?”

  “Because he would have told others. And there is one thing that will draw human beings… telling them not to go somewhere.”

  Sister Anne seemed to contemplate her words, and then her face broke into a smile again. “I don’t need to tempt them. The Guardians will do so themselves. They will bring us new life in abundance.”

  Sister Agatha reached out with her mind and found Anne’s. She saw the face of one of the guardians as he spoke to Anne, promising her many visitors to Angel Manor.

  “They plan to make this place a hotel?” Her voice was high with panic.

  “They will succeed. A new age dawns for us, the special one has arrived. She woke us all outside of the equinox.”

  “No one knows what the prophecy means.”

  Anne gave a sly smile. “We shall see what fate has in store for us.” And with that, her spirit disappeared, leaving Agatha with a growing sense of foreboding.

  Chapter 17