Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1)
Page 25
Florifera stopped in her tracks and turned towards Freya, her white eyes looking straight into her soul.
“Now tell me what it is you are hiding from me.”
“I…” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and Freya fought a wave of nausea. She wanted to say that she didn’t know what the woman was talking about, that she wasn’t hiding anything, but she couldn’t lie. “The girl you spoke to… Bambi?”
“I remember her.”
“She’s dead.”
The expression on the woman’s face didn’t change. Instead, she just stared at Freya with those stern white eyes.
“She didn’t die here.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, she died in Glasgow, in a B&B room.”
“I see. Yet you blame the house?”
Freya looked at her feet. She felt like a ridiculous child.
“I… I don’t know.”
“You do know. You blame the house?” Florifera flicked the pendulum up and caught it in her hand, her fingers making a protective fist around it.
“Yes.”
“Don’t keep up pretences. I’m here to help you. I’ve already acknowledged that this house is haunted. You don’t have to feel shame for acknowledging the same thing.”
“Is it possible to blame the house for something that happened miles away?” Freya’s fingers found the bottom of her shirt, and she wrapped the material around her fingers.
“I can’t answer that. This house is certainly a strong influence, and spirits can travel from one place to the next. I know the human psyche can be very fragile when it comes to the world beyond, but I don’t know with certainty if there is a direct causality between the house and her death.”
“I don’t think there is. Or there shouldn’t be… I just… I feel like there is.”
“I understand.” The woman dropped the pendulum from between her fingers, the blue stone bouncing a few times before hanging still. Florifera closed her eyes, and a deep wrinkle creased the skin between her eyebrows. Freya stared at the pendulum. It hung completely still for several seconds and then, without provocation, began to swing in circles. Faster and faster, the milky blue stone spun. Freya watched closely, but she was unable to detect any movement from the hand that held it.
“I sense several different sources of paranormal activity. The strongest is beneath us. Perhaps in a basement… perhaps even deeper than that. There is strength in what lies beneath, and darkness.” The blood drained from Florifera’s face, tinting her skin an ashen grey, and she took a step to maintain her balance. Freya moved forward to support her, but Marie-Claire waved her away.
“I’m fine, child, just a little overwhelmed by the intensity of what’s in this house.” She wiped her hand across her brow and closed her eyes again. “The second strongest source is upstairs. That’s where the other half live. The two are connected, one needs the other. I have a feeling that there is a bit of a cat and mouse game going on between that which resides below and that which exists above.” She raised her head towards the ceiling, and Freya followed her gaze, but she saw nothing.
“Those above fear those below. And then there are the strays, the stragglers. Those who don’t truly belong to the house but have become a part of it. Some died here, and some were brought here by loved ones.”
Cold chills ran down Freya’s spine. She felt the blood drain from her own face this time, and her heart pounded madly.
“How many spirits are here?”
“Many, dear, I sense many. I sense the house too. Its presence is rather loud.”
“The house?”
“This world has places which are more connected to the spirit world. Where the veil, for lack of a better word, is at its thinnest. The influences of the afterlife weigh heavier in these places. Angel Manor is built on one of the strongest paranormal sites I’ve encountered in my life so far. It’s overwhelming. And I can tell you, dear, I’ve seen a lot in my sixty-eight years.”
“So what’s going to happen now?”
“Well, in the following days, we’ll be trying to make contact with the spirits and see what we’re dealing with. Then we’ll work on trying to find a way to get them to cross over.”
“Like an exorcism?”
“Of a sort, yes.” Florifera took a step towards her and reached out her arm. “I changed my mind, dear. I don’t want a tour after all. This house is a little too strong for me, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to go wandering without a bit of back up. I can’t see the spirits yet, but their presence is already tugging at me.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know yet. But let us go and drink a cup of that tea you promised me, and then we’ll get the equipment set up. That will give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay.” Freya took the frail arm.
“And over tea, perhaps you can fill in all the other things you forgot to tell me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t told me the whole story. The ghosts you encountered would be a good start.”
Freya took a deep breath and grabbed the woman’s arm. A sense of relief flooded over her, and she felt safe. This woman knew about the house, and she wouldn’t think Freya was crazy. A weight lifted from her shoulders as they both made their way back to the kitchen.
***
It took Florifera’s crew two hours to set up their equipment. The blind medium led the way, pointing out the rooms where they would have to place various infra-red cameras, heat and motion sensors, voice recorders, and other electronics that made little sense to Freya. It had been decided to make the kitchen the headquarters for the laptops. It had everything within arm’s reach as well as plenty of electrical outlets. Plus, according to Ruben, it was conveniently located. The kitchen table and most of the counters were covered with computers and other machinery that Freya couldn’t even put a name to. Two of the crew members, a young guy with white blond hair and a large nose, who introduced himself as Pierre, and a very short man with long brown hair, who had said his name was Darren, sat behind their respective laptops. They tested the visuals on the different cameras, concentration written across their faces, while the other two looked on over their shoulders, muttering technical things that bored Freya to tears.
Marie-Claire had made a half-hearted attempt to introduce Freya to the team, but the ghost hunters were too busy setting up shop and barely gave her a second glance. Freya didn’t like the way the young, overweight Australian woman with the face full of freckles looked at Logan, and she felt a little threatened by her presence.
“Tell me when you began to experience strange feelings about this house? What’s happened during your time here?” Florifera grabbed her hand and took a seat at the kitchen table.
“I think it started on the first day we got here. I mean… it’s not like we’re constantly overwhelmed by ghosts, and I haven’t seen any furniture flying around like in the movies or anything.”
The old woman laughed, her voice clear as crystal chimes, and she threw her head back.
“No, things are seldom like they are in movies.”
Freya couldn’t help but wonder if a blind woman was capable of watching movies, and if she did, would she get any satisfaction out of them.
“When we first got to the house, shortly after my aunt died, we had a bit of a shock. The entrance hall and the main hall were both in ruins, covered in cobwebs, and I mean covered, but there wasn’t a single spider in sight. And there was this stuff coming out of the walls… like slime.”
“Slime?” The old woman looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure, because it was gone the next day, but there was this slimy stuff oozing from cracks in the walls. We all saw it, but when we returned the next day, it had disappeared. Maybe we were mistaken.”
“No, this is very possible. There have been physical manifestations of paranormal occurrences, some mediums would argue that you encountered a substance we call ectoplasm.”
“There is more though. I… we… some people are connected to this house. We can’t leave without getting sick.”
“You are bound to this house?”
“Yes, it seems that way. The longer we’re away from the house, or the further, the worse it gets. Bam…” Freya felt a surge of emotion well up from within and had to take a moment to regain her composure. “Bam left and got sick. She… she died a few days later.”
The older woman looked her straight in the eyes, and Freya found herself wondering once again if those white eyes could see after all.
“That’s interesting,” was all she said, her expression encouraging Freya to continue.
The words spilled from her lips like a waterfall. She rambled about the attic, about the children and the spiders they’d found. She talked about the house, and the spirit she’d seen when they’d first opened the East Wing, about Bam and how frightened her friend had been, about Oliver and how he was acting out of sorts. She told everything she could remember in chaotic sequence, and by the end of her story, she was sure none of it had made sense.
“And people keep disappearing too. At least, I think they do. The phone guy was gone for hours, though his van’s gone now so he must have left. But there were two builders that never came back. They could have run away, but… Oh God, those guys will be back tonight.” She placed her head in her hands, and without provocation, the tears started to pour from her eyes. “I didn’t even think about that. And Oliver… he’s missing now too. I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Hush, dear.” A hand rested on her shoulder. “If they are gone, we will find them. Let’s not panic just yet. You are no longer alone.” The words blew through her mind like a warm wind.
“I’m not. I’m so happy you’re here. I just want to be able to leave this all behind me. But I can’t.”
“I know, dear. And everything will be okay. I’ve seen some things in my life, and I’ve always been able to help. We will find out what your house wants and then we will force it to release you. We—”
Her words were interrupted by excited chatter and cheers.
“Unbelievable,” Ruben said. “Marie-Claire, we already have evidence of activity. We’ve never had such an instant response before.”
“What did you see?”
“We just saw a figure cross through the corridor in the South Wing.”
“In daylight?” Marie-Claire’s white eyebrows arched.
“In broad daylight.”
“Now that is unusual.”
“We’re picking something up on the EVP as well.” Julie held a set of headphones against her ear and fiddled with the dials. “There’s a noise. I think that someone might be trying to speak to us.”
“So soon?” Ruben turned to the girl now, and he looked as stunned as Marie-Claire did. Freya felt her skin tingle with a combination of excitement and fear.
“I need to get the static out, but I’m pretty sure I can get the voice clear enough for us to hear.” Julie put the headphones over her ears. “Yes, I definitely have something to work with here.”
Marie-Claire got up from her seat, and Darren rushed to her aid.
“It’s never happened this fast, this house must be very active. Let me hear what you have, Julie.” The girl was still fiddling, but after several minutes, she unplugged the headphones and plugged in a set of speakers. Then she turned around, her eyes wide and her face so pale that Freya felt a jolt of fear.
“It’s very clear. I didn’t even have to cut out too many of the background noises.” She pressed a button and a voice, soft and female, sounded over the crackling noises.
‘The equinox is near. You must leave. I’m getting weaker. The Angels will be free.”
The same short phrases were repeated over and over in a desperate tone. The acid in Freya’s stomach bubbled, and a thick, sour-tasting bile made its way from her throat to the back of her tongue before she managed to swallow it away. Every muscle in her body tensed, only relaxing when Logan rested his warm hand on her shoulder. She turned her head up to him.
“I wish I knew where Oliver was,” she whispered. “This stuff is freaking me out.” He nodded and slid his arm around her chest, pulling her closer.
“I need to seek out the entity that we’ve heard.” Marie-Claire’s voice rang over the recording. “The best way to go about this is if we have a one-on-one communication.”
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, chérie. Let’s not be rash.”
“There is an opportunity here and now, so I will investigate it. As I always do.” Her voice was sharp.
“You said this house was different, that we had to be careful, and now you’re running into the unknown without caution.”
“I don’t think this spirit is malevolent, Ruben.”
“Marie-Claire, We don’t know that.”
“Please, don’t argue with me.”
Ruben’s shoulders slumped, and Freya knew Marie-Claire was the more dominant of the two.
“At least take Pierre with you.”
Marie-Claire shook her head. “It works better if I go alone.”
“You wanted to record the phenomena, didn’t you? Then take the putain kid with you.” He swore under his breath in French.
“Fine, if that’s what you want.” The older woman’s voice held its sharpness, but her face was gentle. This round was for Ruben, but it was a small victory judging by the man’s sour expression. Pierre grabbed his camera, an eager expression on his face, and then he took hold of Marie-Claire’s hand. They exited the kitchen together, leaving the rest of the company watching the monitors.
Chapter 27
The power of the house was so potent she could see the contours of the building. There was magic running through the very mortar holding the bricks together. Part of it came from spells, Marie-Claire knew. She could feel them, protective spells mostly, but the magic had been corrupted somehow. Yet there was something else here, something so ancient, she didn’t know what she was dealing with, though she planned to find out.
A spirit had reached out to them, had called out a warning, and Marie-Claire wanted to investigate what it all meant. The warning made her a little wary, the equinox was drawing near. In fact, it would be at midnight that very night so time was running short.
Marie-Claire knew from experience that the dead possessed a sense of melodrama, yet at the same time, she wasn’t the kind of woman who would take a warning lightly. It worried her that the spirit had made contact in daylight. That was unusual. Marie-Claire never knew why, but sunlight seemed to have an effect on paranormal activities.
“This is the room where the EVP was recorded.” Darren’s hand was clammy and hot in hers, and she heard nervous enthusiasm vibrate in his voice.
“Is there a place where I can sit?”
“There’s a bed.”
“Bring me to it. Then keep your distance and roll the camera.”
The side of the bed pressed against her knees, and Marie-Claire felt her way down, her hands touching the mattress carefully. She took a deep breath and smelled the scent of the sheets, the wood of the bed, and a hint of cleaning fluid. Darren’s footsteps retreated a few paces, and she heard the clicking of the camera. Her hands rested in her lap, she inhaled deeply and opened her mind. Around her, the room came to life, an otherworldly white canvas interrupted by violet and fuchsia rays of light. She allowed her third eye to roam around the room, to connect with the energy of the house.
“I am here if you wish to speak to me. I am open and willing, and I will listen.” She spoke the words softly, repeating them a second time. She opened her thoughts to let the influences of the house inside.
A spiritual essence hit her with such force that Marie-Claire was pushed all
the way across the bed to the headboard. The blankets tangled around her legs, and the impact against the wood made her teeth rattle. She could hear Darren yelp and curse, but she held her hand up to indicate that he should keep his distance. Marie-Claire struggled to get her thoughts together, as it felt as if dozens, perhaps hundreds, of eyes were suddenly upon her.
“I got your attention it seems,” she muttered breathlessly. “Good, maybe now we can talk.”
There were several different emotions pressing upon her psyche. She felt the fear of the spirits in the attic, their child-like minds, young and old at the same time, nudging her gently. At the same time, she felt curiosity from the lost ones, who were now part of the house but still had some sense of individuality left. And she felt the strong, hungry minds of those who resided below. They were the most interested, and they called out to her, taunted her without words. She felt their hunger, their longing. They wanted to harm her, not just kill, but to break her very essence. Marie-Claire battled the fear she felt for them, refusing to let them get the upper hand. There was something parasitic about these ones, and although she had encountered the force before in poltergeists, it was never this strong. There were so many of them, and Marie-Claire experienced a strong urge to flee the house.
“I acknowledge your presence.” Her voice was breathy with exertion. “But I’m here to speak to the woman who talked to us. Can you reveal yourself? I am here to listen.” The medium pushed the different minds away from hers, giving her a bit of breathing space. The hungry minds were particularly difficult to push; they were clinging to her like hooks in the mouths of fish.
“I am here to listen,” Marie-Claire repeated. Something rushed at her, and she was shocked to see a woman dressed in a nun’s habit. Her face was unclear, but she could sense her as a light shadow.
“What’s going on, Marie-Claire? I see a really weird light near you.” Darren’s voice trembled.
“I see it. There is a spirit here with me.”
“You must leave, before it is too late.” The voice was the same from the EVP recording.
“What is your name?”