by Nathan Roden
“That prison cell is long gone, Ma’am,” Bruiser Brady said. “Me and my friends done checked it out.”
“Wellmore has likely destroyed any and all evidence inside the castle,” Q said. “Complete with washing down the dungeon with bleach. It is unlikely that even if the police went down there for a look, that they would find any physical evidence at all.”
“More than likely it would come down to local politics, Oliver,” Brian McAllen said. “Unless you’d be willin’ to inform judge and jury that Wellmore’s intention was to steal your ability to see dead people, they have no good reason to want to believe you.”
“We know that Wellmore has at least two men working with him—the two that tried to kidnap Holly—” Q said.
“Kidnap Holly?” Oliver said.
“What?” she said. “When did—?”
“Just a few days ago,” Holly said. “It was those two freeloaders that followed Seth into the castle and saw the McIntyres.”
“You read his threat,” Q said. “He is confident that he can take anyone at any time.”
“Which is precisely why that madman should be behind bars!” Oliver said.
“You seem to be forgetting that he’s let you go,” Holly said. “The easiest thing to do would have been to drop you in the middle of the sea. If he learns that we’ve gone to the police, then we force him to try and silence every last one of us.”
“You can’t be serious, Holly!” Gwendoline said. “We are expected to take this man at his word?”
The group was silent.
“Tell you what,” Q said. “Let’s get you two checked out, have a nice, big dinner and a good nights’ sleep—and we’ll go from there.”
Forty-Four
Sebastian Wellmore
Near Edinburgh, Scotland
London, England
Sebastian Wellmore groaned as he shifted his weight. His left leg was numb. He had been sitting inside of the rental van for three hours.
Sebastian told some clever lies told to a distracted desk clerk. He knew that the rooms rented to Quentin Lynchburg were reserved for the next two nights. Sebastian shook his leg, trying to direct some blood into it; He knelt in front of the camera tripod. He looked through the viewfinder— the view was the same as the previous twenty times that he checked it.
Before he moved away from the camera again, his subjects arrived. Sebastian squeezed off a quick series of pictures while the group filed out of a stretch limousine.
Three men that Sebastian did not recognize followed Quentin Lynchburg. Two of them appeared to be identical twins.
How interesting, Sebastian thought. That will make it easier to learn who they are.
Last to exit the limousine—the McFadden family. Holly McFadden walked beside her parents while holding hands with a young man. The young man looked familiar to Sebastian, but he could not remember where he had seen him before.
He moved to the driver’s seat of the van and turned on his mobile tablet. He located the website for the Castle McIntyre.
That was where he had seen that young man’s face before; he was one of the castle’s tour guides.
Wylie Westerhouse.
Sebastian typed in a search for the name.
Again. Interesting.
Sebastian read aloud.
“A country and pop music singer…a former contestant on ‘America’s Brand New Voice’. Westerhouse was disqualified from the competition-based program following allegations of conspiring to falsify the voting…
“Tut, tut, tut,” Sebastian clicked his tongue as he shook his head.
“My fair Miss Holly,” Sebastian muttered. “Why has one with such incredible abilities allied herself with a petty criminal?”
Sebastian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Only one man had his number.
‘They are flying to Branson, Missouri,” the voice said. “Via New York City and Atlanta, Georgia. Scheduled departure is tomorrow morning from London Heathrow; eleven-thirty, flight 1805.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian said. He ended the call. He winced at the amount of money that his contact was costing him. It was a lot of money.
Sebastian imagined paying the man a visit, and watching Mr. Merchant’s eyes bulge, and his life evaporate as a pair of gloved hands tightened around his throat.
My hands, Sebastian thought.
He shook the thought away. It was folly. Men like Sebastian Wellmore depended heavily on men with the ability to gather information—men whose consciences had a price tag. He would have to do whatever was necessary to keep his accomplice. The life insurance settlement was not going to last forever.
Sebastian cleared security at London’s Heathrow Airport with his small backpack. It held only some clothes and served only to make him appear like any normal traveler. He ducked into the nearest restroom and double-checked his disguise. His reflection caused him to jump. He looked considerably different in the wig, the makeup, the glasses, and the beard.
He wore padding around his torso that appeared to add thirty pounds. He wore two-inch lifts inside of his shoes.
Sebastian sat in a chair against the wall near the boarding gate. He nursed a cup of tea and pretended to read a magazine. Twenty minutes later, the travelers he had been waiting for arrived. Sebastian glanced at his watch. Boarding would begin in about half an hour.
Twenty minutes later, Sebastian stood up. The opportunity he had been waiting for had finally happened. The young man was on his way toward the restroom. Alone.
“Hello? Begging your pardon?” Sebastian said as he stepped into the path of Wylie Westerhouse. “I’m sorry to bother you, young man, but I must know—I spend quite a lot of time in America, you see—
“Are you Wylie Westerhouse?”
“Uh, yes, Sir,” the young man said. He looked very uncomfortable.
“It is you, then!” Sebastian beamed. He grabbed the young man’s right forearm with both hands. He slid his left hand to the young man’s elbow while his right hand gripped the young man’s hand. He pumped Wylie’s hand up and down.
“A real, live, honest-to-goodness singing st—!” Sebastian looked over the young man’s shoulder and saw several additional people in the gate area. There were nine semi-transparent people. Two of these he had seen before; they were the same young girls he had once seen inside the turret room of the Castle McIntyre.
The young man jerked his arm away when he saw the look on Sebastian Wellmore’s face. The young man took a step back. And then another.
“Sorry,” Wylie Westerhouse said. “I really gotta go—I get a nervous stomach when I have to fly. Sorry.”
Sebastian smiled as he watched the young man scurry away.
Aye, Sebastian thought. Ain’t love grand. You share hands, you share lips,
You share your dead friends…
Sebastian turned and left the building.
Sebastian opened the door that led to the dungeon. He had a thought and went to the refrigerator. He took out a block of cheese and cut several small cubes from it. He walked down the cellar stairs and stopped on the last one. He dropped a square of cheese on the floor and waited. A small mouse appeared after a few seconds with quivering whiskers. He stopped and stared into the beam of Sebastian’s flashlight.
“Go ahead, little fellow,” Sebastian said. “Go and tell your friends. On this momentous night, the little ones will feast.”
Sebastian dropped the squares of cheese and switched on the lights. He opened the dungeon door. He entered the room and walked to the center.
“I know you are here!” Sebastian said as he spun in a slow circle. “I cannot see you, but I feel your presence.”
Sebastian walked back and forth—his eyes searching the depths of the room. The odor of bleach was no longer overpowering.
“I know that it was Baron Alistair Wellmore, the first of his name, for whom my father was named—it was he who brought you here!” Sebastian shouted as he paced. “Perhaps it was to be my father’s destiny to return
our family to greatness. But we both know this was never possible. He was weak! Timid! He was content to allow our good name to turn to dust and ashes!”
“But that time is over!” Sebastian shouted. “I now know for certain the source of the power that has eluded me!”
“And she has created another.”
Forty-Five
Wylie Westerhouse
London
New York
Boston
I dodged around several slow-moving people on my way to the restroom. I glanced over my shoulder once; the bearded guy who was so quick with his hands was walking in the opposite direction.
I locked myself into a stall until my breathing returned to near-normal. My hands were still shaking.
That was the first time I’d had to deal with a stranger in a public place—the first time since Holly changed me. That sounds creepy, doesn’t it?
I don’t count the castle tours because Holly taught me how to avoid contacting the guests. It was second nature to her—she had lived that way since she was six years old.
But the episode that had just happened caught me totally off-guard. That guy grabbed me so fast that it was almost supernatural. Before I knew it, he was looking over my shoulder at nine ghosts.
Oh, yeah. He saw them, all right. I could see it in his eyes. And what he was going to do about it was anybody’s guess. One thing I was sure of was that I had to make sure that nothing like that ever happened again.
The day that I met Holly was in an airport. She didn’t like me right away. When she put her hand on my chest to push me into a wall, I saw ghosts, too. One second it was Holly and me and a few other people in the concourse, and then suddenly there were twice the number of people there. When Holly pulled her hand away, the extra people disappeared.
I had no idea what happened. My brain tried to ignore the experience completely. If I was lucky, the same thing was happening right now to the bearded man.
Was I going to have to live like this for the rest of my life? Would I be able to handle that?
I splashed cold water on my face, dried off, and returned to the boarding gate. I sat next to Holly and took her hand. Quentin’s phone rang.
“Hello?” he said. “Yes, this is Quentin. Just a moment, please.”
He held the phone out to me.
“It’s for you,” he said.
“Hello, this is Wylie,” I said.
“THE Wyle Westerhouse? For reals? This is your biggest fan.”
I stood up and took a few steps away. I put a finger in my ear to block out the din of conversation in the gate. I managed a laugh.
“Hello, Skyler,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Skyler asked.
“London. Heathrow,” I said.
“Coming or going?” she asked.
“Going home,” I said.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I can’t really go into details at the moment,” I said. “But I would say that we met with great success.”
“That’s awesome, Wylie!” Skyler said. “Are you flying to New York?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What’s your flight number?” she asked.
“Uh, why do you want my flight number?” I asked.
“So I can send you flowers and chocolates and dancing girls, of course,” Skyler said. “I’m in New York for a week, Dummy. I need to talk to you.”
I gave her the flight number.
“We have about a three-hour layover,” I said. “Where do I meet you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll find you.”
“I bet you will,” I said.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
We landed in New York and walked into the terminal. A beautiful young woman in a limousine driver’s uniform approached me as soon as I got to the gate area.
“Mr. Westerhouse?” she said.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Would you come with me, please?” she asked.
I kissed Holly on the cheek.
“I won’t be long,” I said.
“I’ll be somewhere nearby,” Holly said. “Inhaling pizza. Dad wanted to eat at the Empire Steak Building, but Mr. Lynchburg straightened him out on that one.”
The inter-continental flight had been an unusual one, to say the least. Holly sat between her parents, on the opposite aisle and one row ahead of me. I watched Gwendoline McFadden weep for most of the flight while she doted on her daughter. She held Holly’s hand for much of the trip over the ocean.
Gwen McFadden had never before been able to come to grips with her daughter’s supernatural ability. She avoided Holly’s touch for most of Holly’s life.
Watching the emotional overload pass between mother and daughter on our flight—well, it was hard to watch with dry eyes.
I tried to keep up with the young woman in the driver’s uniform, but she was fast.
“How far are we going?” I asked. “I only have three hours.”
She stopped and opened the door to a conference room.
Inside the room, stood Skyler KwyK. And her mother.
Skyler hugged me. She wore a big smile that seemed to say that everything was “okay” between us. Even Veronica KwyK seemed happy and relaxed.
“Congratulations,” Veronica said.
I glanced at Skyler.
“Thanks,” I said. “I guess Skyler told you that we had a successful trip.”
“Uh, no,” Veronica said. She looked at Skyler. “He’s been out of the country, Sky. He may not even know.”
“I don’t know what?” I asked.
Skyler’s mouth fell open. She grabbed my arm with both hands. I flinched, but there were no ghosts in the room.
“The song, Wylie! Our song! The single!” she said.
“Your duet debuted at number eighteen on the Billboard charts,” Veronica said. “That was last week. Today, it’s at number four, with a bullet.”
“Wow. That’s awesome!” I said. Because it was.
“There’s more to it than that,” Skyler said.
“Really?” I said. “Such as—?”
“We’ve had some long talks with the label, and with the House of Mouse,” Veronica said.
“House of Mouse?” I said.
“Mickey, silly!” Skyler punched me. I was still lost.
“Disney has an animated feature in production as we speak,” Veronica said. “They want that song. They’ve put a significant hold on it, and they are very interested in hearing more.”
“Tell him the rest, Mother!” Skyler said.
“Well, under the circumstances,” Veronica said. “Everyone agrees that it would be best to wait until the New Year to release any more singles, as well as the album.”
“The label believes that we’re looking at major award consideration—maybe even an Academy nomination!” Skyler beamed.
I was more than a little dizzy. I knew that the one song we had worked on was good, but this was waaay over the top.
“I know that it was a difficult decision for you, Wylie,” Veronica said. “To walk away from all of this. And whether you believe it or not, I respect you for being there for your friend. But if we begin again in say, three months—do you think that might work for you?”
I was stunned. It took a few moments before I realized they were waiting for my response.
I nodded.
“I…I think I can make that work.”
“Yay!” Skyler clapped her hands. Veronica smiled and then high-fived her daughter.
“I have one condition,” I said.
The smiles turned to open mouths.
“Oh, God,” Skyler said. “What?”
“Nate comes with me,” I said. “Which I should have insisted on in the first place.”
Veronica started laughing. She even snorted a time or two.
Skyler just smiled. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a money clip with some folded bills in it. She unfolde
d them and peeled off a five-dollar-bill. She handed it to Veronica. Veronica took it as she dried her eyes.
“I told you he wouldn’t come back without Nate!” Veronica said.
Skyler crossed her arms and pretended to pout.
“Making bets with your own daughter—taking her hard-earned money. I don’t know where this woman learned her parenting skills.”
“So is there an exact—?” I asked.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Skyler said. “I have a present for you!”
She handed me a gift-wrapped box.
“What is this about?” I asked.
“Open it, and see!” she said.
I opened the box and found two more boxes. Boxes of cigars. One box had cigars with blue tags that read “It’s a boy!” and one box had pink wrappers that read “It’s a girl!”
“Uh, I don’t get…”
Skyler showed me her phone. It was a picture of some kind, but I didn’t know what it was. It looked like an x-ray.
“It’s Gracie’s sonogram!” Skyler said. “Seven puppies!”
“Wh—?” I said. “Don’t tell me that Toby—you said that you separated them!” I said to Veronica.
Veronica laughed.
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Apparently Toby Westerhouse is both quick and efficient.”
“Congratulations, Grampa!” Skyler said.
“Grampa?” I said. “If I’m Grampa, you know what that makes you.”
“And you know what that makes you, Mother!” Skyler said. “A great—”
“That will be quite enough of that kind of talk!” Veronica said.
“We’ll let you know when we have more details set in stone, Wylie,” Veronica said. “We’ll leave you alone during the holidays—unless it’s something important.”
