by Nathan Roden
“Straight through the stone wall.”
Maggie’s eyes grew large, and she began to cry.
“Sebastian, Sebastian,” she whimpered, “Please untie me. You have been under too much strain, more than you should have to bear! We can…we can make this better, Darling. We’ll make them all understand. There are good doctors, and hospitals—it’s not your fault—”
Sebastian began to laugh.
“Oh, yes, Mother!” he said. “Some nice doctor will give me a bottle of pills and send me home for a nice nap, yes? Thrown in a dank dungeon underneath a filthy prison is where I’d spend the rest of my days, Mummy Dear.”
“Why did you take them? To what end?” Maggie cried. “Even if they speak to the dead, how does this benefit you?”
“I saw ghosts, Mother. I was able to see them after a moment’s contact with Oliver McFadden’s arm,” Sebastian said. “Do you think I intend to slave away the rest of my life when I have tasted that type of power?”
A look of epiphany washed over Maggie’s face.
“The money—from the business account,” she said, “There have been hundreds of pounds unaccounted for in the past six months. I said nothing because I have been so worried about your depression—”
“They had to eat, Mother,” Sebastian said. “Dead men tell no—”
“You’ve had them trapped in a cage for six months!” Maggie screamed. “Where has this gotten you?”
Sebastian dismissed this comment with the wave of a hand.
“Where does one find statistics dealing with how long this should take?” he said.
“How far are you prepared to go?” Maggie asked, “Would you drink their blood?”
“Ah, I tried that within the first week,” Sebastian smirked.
“But—” Maggie began. Sebastian put his hand over Maggie’s mouth.
“I’m growing tired of this conversation, I’m afraid,” he said, “I still have much to do tonight.”
He pulled a roll of tape from his pocket, tore off a piece and placed it over Maggie’s mouth.
“Sebastian! Sebastian, you must wake up!”
Sebastian rolled over and squinted into the morning sun over his aunt’s shoulder. Andrea and Benjamin Murdoch stood before the sofa bed where he slept. They were weeping. Two policemen and one policewoman stood at attention behind them.
“Sebastian,” his aunt said as she knelt in front of him, “There has been a horrible accident.”
“Accident?” Sebastian said as he stood, “What…what are you talking about?”
“Oh, Sebastian,” Andrea said, “Maggie…Maggie never made it home last night.” Andrea began to sob uncontrollably. Her husband helped her to her feet.
“Son,” one of the policemen said to Sebastian, “I’m Officer Gregory. We found your mother’s car near the highway. For reasons unknown, last evening she was walking in the middle of the roadway just around a bend. There was a transport driver…he said she just stood there. I’m very sorry.”
Sebastian sank back to the sofa bed.
“Oh my God,” he said.
He let his head fall into his hands, where he squeezed out the contents of the small pouch. Sebastian rubbed the salt water into his eyes where it became tears of grief for his audience.
Andrea and Benjamin dropped Sebastian at the castle after Maggie’s funeral. Sebastian pulled back the corner of a curtain and watched them pull away. He took his pistol from his bedside table and walked toward the kitchen, and the steps that led down to the dungeon.
Sebastian descended the steps and stopped outside of the ancient door. He felt along the stones on one wall, and then he pulled on one. The stone slid easily from the wall.
Inside of the hidden cavity were a monitor screen and four buttons. Sebastian pressed one of the buttons and the monitor turned on. He studied his subjects for a few minutes. There was nothing to see.
Sebastian lost count of the number of hours he had spent watching the McFaddens—watching for any sign that they were able to see the spirits that existed below the Castle Wellmore. There had been no signs. The McFaddens used their time outside of their small cell merely to stretch out, walk, and exercise.
Sebastian pressed another button—the intercom. He took no joy in frightening his captives with his presence. He cleared his throat quietly.
“Into the cell, please,” he said.
Sebastian flooded the dungeon with light and peered through the peephole door. There were no surprises. Surprises were impossible.
An iron-barred, twelve-foot square prison stood in the middle of the dungeon floor. The cell was furnished with two cots, a sink, and a crude bathroom enclosed by a filthy curtain. There were Books and magazines stacked on a shelf.
The couple stood and watched Sebastian.
Sebastian nodded. He held his arms out to his side.
“Ah, that’s right. You’ve yet to see me dressed this way. It has been a special day.”
The McFaddens said nothing.
Sebastian walked to a nearby table and picked up two pairs of handcuffs. He walked to the cell door and tossed one of the cuffs to the floor in front of Oliver.
“Cuff yourself to the cot, Oliver,” he said.
“What are you doing?” Oliver said, looking at his wife and then at Sebastian.
“I told you to cuff yourself to your cot. You will do this immediately, or I will shut off the water, leave, and come back in seventy-two hours. That is not a pretty way to die, Oliver.”
Oliver picked up the cuff and attached his left wrist to the cot.
“Now stand up straight so that I can see that you have done it correctly,” Sebastian said.
Oliver stood, straining against the weight of the cot frame as he pulled two legs from the floor.
Sebastian inserted a key into the door. Gwendoline backed away, pressing herself into the bars of the cell.
“Step outside, Mrs. McFadden,” Sebastian said with a smile.
“No!” Oliver screamed. “What are you doing?”
“Wh…Where is that woman?” Gwendoline asked. “Was that…is she your mother?”
Sebastian finally showed his pistol, first holding it out so that Gwendoline could see it, and then slowly pointing it toward Oliver.
“You two are such insufferable bores,” Sebastian whined. “Just who do you believe is in charge of this situation? Is it not obvious that I am? Yet, I give you an order, and you respond with questions.
“Dear Mrs. McFadden, I am aiming a loaded pistol at your husband’s head and I have told you to step outside. Would it help if I told you that I am dressed this way because I have just come from my mother’s funeral? She also thought me incapable of being in charge.”
Gwendoline McFadden began to slide down the bars of the cell as she sobbed.
“NOW, MRS. McFADDEN!” Sebastian screamed.
Gwendoline slid all the way to the floor and crawled toward the cell door. Oliver jerked on the heavy cot frame, moving toward the door. He and Gwendoline stopped when Sebastian fired a shot over Oliver’s head.
Sebastian reached into the cell and pulled Gwendoline out of the door. He pulled her to her feet and cuffed one of her wrists to one of the bars of the cell. Sebastian stepped back and caught his breath. He raised the pistol and held it inches away from Gwendoline’s left temple.
“No,” Oliver said feebly. “Why are you doing this?”
“My intent has not changed for the last six months, Oliver,” Sebastian said, still breathing heavily.
“The difference,” he said, “Is that I am sick and tired of waiting. I was able to see two little ghost girls wearing sixteenth-century dresses—after touching Oliver’s arm. I watched those girls disappear through a stone wall. This castle is four hundred years older than the McIntyre, and I am to believe that we have nothing?”
“I can wait no longer,” Sebastian said. He crossed to a nearby wall and pointed up.
“Right there,” Sebastian said. He crossed to the opposite w
all and pointed again. “And there. Do you see them, now?”
“Cameras,” he said. “And high-powered microphones. Five months inside this cage, and there has been absolutely no hint that either of you has the slightest supernatural ability.”
Sebastian returned to his position by Gwendoline.
“So either the gift died with Larrimore, or it lies with Miss Holly McFadden,” Sebastian said.
“Died?” The McFaddens said at the same time.
“You killed Seth?” Gwendoline whispered. Her legs were weak.
“Why would I kill him?” Sebastian asked. “For all I knew, he was the source of this supernatural power. I’m afraid that Mr. Larrimore suffered a massive heart attack.”
“Oh, Oliver!” Gwendoline said.
“As I said,” Sebastian said, “Either the ability died with Larrimore, or it belongs to your daughter. And I am going to learn the answer to that question before I leave this room.”
“It was Seth!” Oliver cried, “Seth was the only one that could see them!”
“My two acquaintances did indeed touch Seth that night at the McIntyre,” Sebastian said. “But I only touched you.”
“It…it can be transferred by touch,” Oliver said. “But only for a short time. It was only Seth!” Oliver screamed.
“Well, of course, it was!” Sebastian said sarcastically, “Then this whole little misunderstanding will be over. There is a problem with that, however.”
Sebastian spun the cylinder of his revolver and pointed it at Gwendoline’s head.
“If the two of you possess no supernatural power, I have no use for you whatsoever.”
He pulled the trigger.
Click.
He spun the cylinder again.
“Tell me that your daughter is the gifted one and you will both live to see tomorrow,” Sebastian said to Oliver.
“It doesn’t matter what we tell you,” Oliver said quietly, “You won’t believe us. You’ll go after her whether we live or die.”
Sebastian dropped the revolver to his side.
“School teachers,” Sebastian said. “You are most intelligent, I’ll hand you that.”
Sebastian Wellmore took a key from the keyring and slid it across the floor toward Oliver.
“Unlock the cuffs and slide them and the key back to me.”
Oliver did so. Sebastian unlocked the cuff from Gwendoline’s wrist with the revolver pressed to her head. He opened the cell door and let her back inside. She collapsed into her husband’s arms.
“It has been an emotional day,” Sebastian said. He smoothed his sleeves. “I may have use of you yet.”
He turned and left the dungeon.
Five
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
I put down my laptop and rubbed my eyes. I was making some castle tour “cheat-sheets” for our prospective new tour guides. I got the idea from watching a football game where a substitute quarterback had a list of plays written on a forearm sleeve. Toby got up from the floor and stood in front of me, panting and wagging his tail.
“It’s not walking time yet, Boy,” I said. “I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m going to make a sandwich, watch forty-five minutes of mind-numbing television, and then we’ll go for a walk.”
Toby jumped on the sofa beside me and I scratched his head for a few minutes. He stood up and faced the other direction and barked once.
“Duncan’s not here yet,” I said. “He has a girlfriend now, you know. We only get what’s left of him.”
Toby turned around, faced the front door, and barked. Then he jumped down and ran to the front window. He put his front paws on the window sill and barked a few more times.
I joined Toby at the window and pulled back the curtain.
“Oh, okay,” I said. “Pizza delivery. That would have been a really good idea about an hour ago. Our neighbors are smarter than we are, Toby.”
Toby looked at me and barked.
“Okay,” I said. “Smarter than me.”
A faded compact car with a pizza delivery sign on the roof sputtered to a stop in front of my driveway. A girl wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, large sunglasses, and a Cardinals baseball cap climbed out of the driver’s seat. She looked both ways several times and then walked around and opened the passenger door. She grabbed the pizza sleeve by one handle and pulled it to her side, like a briefcase.
“Don’t—oh,” I said. I shook my head and winced over what was being done to that poor, innocent pizza. “This must be her first day on the job. I hope the Smiths go easy on her when they find out what she’s done to their dinner.”
I would have gone to the kitchen after my own dinner, except this girl had mutilated some perfectly good pizza. I continued to watch the impending scene like I was watching the aftermath of a wreck on the expressway. The Smiths were pretty nice neighbors. Maybe they wouldn’t yell at her.
The girl didn’t even look in the direction of the Smith’s house. She ducked her head and walked straight up my sidewalk.
“Stay, Toby,” I said.
I opened the door a little when she got close.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t order pizza,” I said. I glanced toward the Smith’s front door. I held my hands out, palms up, hoping that she would take the hint. “You’re really not supposed to carry pizza like that. Are you looking for the Smiths?”
Toby peeked out between my legs.
“Toby!” the girl squealed.
Toby squirted out the front door as I tried to grab him. The girl dropped the pizza carrier. It landed upside down, which made me grimace. The girl threw her arms around Toby.
What the…?
I reached for Toby, but I was afraid that the girl might jump or scream and cause Toby to snap at her. So I watched them hug. The girl let go of Toby and then started scratching him at the top of his left hip. That’s Toby’s absolute favorite place to be scratched. He rolled over on his back and sported the grin that I’ve seen a few hundred times. The girl threw her head back and laughed. Her smile and her teeth were perfect.
“Uh, Ma’am? I believe that your pizza is ruined,” I said.
She stood up and shook the pizza carrier around.
“It’s empty,” she said. “Decoy pizza.”
“I…I don’t get it,” I said. “Do I know you? You seem to know my dog.”
“I know quite a bit about Toby,” she said, “And about you.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Are you going to let me inside? I would rather not stand out here on the porch.”
“Well, I don’t know—” I said.
She exhaled and took off her sunglasses.
“Yes,” she said, “Tomorrow’s headline might read ‘Skyler KwyK breaks into a residential home in broad daylight’. I bet that would get some traffic.”
She winked and pushed me out of her way.
“This is a nice little home,” Skyler said. She walked around the living room, looking up and down. “Do you live alone?”
I got goosebumps on top of my goosebumps. This was not happening.
“My bro—uh, Toby and I, me. Toby and me. Sorry. I’m in a mild state of shock at the moment.”
Skyler giggled.
“Would you like something?” I asked. “Something to drink, maybe?”
“A glass of water would be nice,” she said.
I came back from the kitchen to find Skyler and Toby snuggling again. I didn’t know that Toby was so much of a ladies’ man, but he was pulling it off.
I handed Skyler a glass of ice and a bottled water and hoped that she wouldn’t notice my hand shaking.
“What can I do for you, Miss Kw—?”
“My name is Skyler, especially for people that are older than I am,” she said. “And that is most people since I just turned eighteen.”
“Fair enough,” I said, “Why are you in my house? Is there a search party looking for you at this moment?”
She laughed.
“There
probably is,” she said, “I certainly didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”
“Are you supposed to be somewhere else?” I asked.
She let out a breath and looked sad for a moment. Then she smiled.
“Of course, I am, Silly,” she said. “Every minute of my every day for the last eleven years has been scheduled. I’m sure that my adult status will drive many people completely insane.”
“Where are you supposed to be at this minute?” I asked.
“Watching video with my choreographer,” she said. She frowned. “Or that might be tomorrow. I didn’t check the schedule before I left.”
I was getting a little uncomfortable about my part in this.
“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” I asked. “You mean, no one knows where you are?”
She dismissed this question with a wave.
“No, it’s not like that,” she said, “I have a few ‘helper friends’ that always know where I am. I learned that lesson the hard way. I got mad at my mother once when I was fourteen, and I slipped off and hid in a supply closet at the television studio. I didn’t tell anyone; I just wanted to be alone for a while. We had been filming for eighteen straight days, and I was cranky and tired. I fell asleep on a pile of drop cloths and woke up fourteen hours later. When I showed up, there were people crying and screaming; policemen and firemen, and studio personnel. But I have news for the world—I am a legal adult now and I have no intention of being a prisoner anymore.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Why are you here—in my house?”
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.
“You were good, Wylie,” she said, “Very good. And you were going to be huge.”
“Well,” I said. I felt warm, so I’m sure I was blushing. “Lots of people are good.”
“That’s true,” she said, “But there is good, and then there is Star Quality. I’m not the only one to recognize that.”
