The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4)

by Michael Richan

  So I just go upstairs while he stays down here, with you, learning how to defeat the Creepsis? she asked.

  Yes, Lyman replied, his voice full of compassion, but insistent.

  Urrgh! Deem expelled, and dropped from the River. She turned to walk out of the chamber and back to the tunnel that led to the house.

  Winn turned to look at Lyman. He looks so young, he thought. How old did Carma say he was when he was killed? Sixteen?

  Come with me, Lyman said once he’d waited a few minutes to ensure Deem had made her way upstairs. He turned and began to move down the tunnel.

  Like this? Winn asked. Or physically?

  With your body, Lyman called over his shoulder. You’ll need it. Drop back into the River once we reach the main room.

  Winn left the flow, and Lyman’s figure changed instantly to a vague wisp of white, hovering in the air in the tunnel. Winn regained control of his body and ran to follow Lyman.

  The tunnel took a couple of twists and turns, becoming darker as they progressed; the overhead lighting hadn’t been run to this part of the cave. Winn found himself reaching for the sides of the tunnel to make sure he didn’t walk into something.

  Eventually it opened into a much larger empty chamber, dimly lit by two thin, glass objects placed in the rocks at opposite ends of the room. Winn dropped back into the River.

  Suddenly he was surrounded by tables, objects, equipment.

  Wow, Winn thought. Lyman’s inner sanctum. All completely invisible outside of the River.

  He turned, trying to take in the menagerie of unusual sights. Tables were spread out everywhere, and large pieces of strange equipment were arranged around the room, some interacting with things on the tables, some just standing alone. There were cages along one wall, filled with strange creatures, and against another wall there were three humongous bookcases, crammed full with volumes. The spines on some of them were glowing, emitting a faint yellow pulse every few seconds.

  Lyman turned to him. I’m going to give you something you can use to eliminate the spider in the River. There are very few weapons that will work in the River, but this is one of them. And it’s not exactly a weapon, but it will serve your purpose.

  Blue nightmare? Winn asked.

  No. What I’m going to give you is much different. Stronger. And something that will suit my purpose as well.

  Lyman turned and drifted to the far end of the room, maneuvering around tables and equipment. Winn followed. He stopped at a chair, where a short Asian man sat near another tunnel. Lyman spoke to the man in a language Winn didn’t understand, and the man stood and began to wander into the tunnel, barely able to stand on his feet. It’s a corpse, Winn thought.

  Where’s he going? Winn asked.

  We’ll wait here, Lyman replied.

  Winn heard sounds coming from the tunnel; wails and screams, increasing in volume. They were chilling.

  What’s he doing? Winn asked.

  It’s best you not know, Lyman replied.

  The shrieks and cries continued, until eventually the Asian man returned, wobbling on his legs as through he might fall over at any moment. In his hand was a bucket, and inside the bucket was a tube. Lyman reached for the bucket and took it out of the man’s hands. He set down the bucket and lifted the tube from it.

  Come with me, Lyman said, and turned. Winn watched as the Asian man wobbled to his chair and sat. He glanced to his left, and saw, further around the curve of the chamber, another man sitting on a chair, next to a different tunnel entrance. How many of them are there? Winn wondered. Then he turned to follow Lyman to another area of the room.

  They reached a large piece of equipment, and Winn watched as Lyman carefully emptied the tube into it, shaking it to ensure all of its contents fell into the machine. Then he set a few controls, and turned to Winn.

  I’m going to give you a device that you can take into the River, Lyman said, reaching for a drawer under the table next to Winn. He removed a Y shaped pipe that looked like it was made of cast iron, about six inches long. He handed it to Winn.

  What is it? Winn asked, turning it over in his hands.

  That’s just a launcher, Lyman said. It’ll look the same way out of the River. You hold it with the long tube pointed at whatever you’re going to attack. I’ll put a substance into the lower neck of it, and when you’re ready, you’ll drop one of these into the top neck.

  Lyman handed him a small, round chunk of rock. It looked like coal.

  Winn tried to imagine what Lyman was describing, but he couldn’t figure out which end Lyman meant.

  Here, let me show you, Lyman said. Winn handed him the pipe, and Lyman arranged it in his hand so that one end was pointed at the wall of the cave, and the other ends of the Y were positioned up and down.

  Substance will go in here, Lyman said, pointing to the lower tube. At that point, think of it as loaded, like a gun filled with bullets. One, powerful bullet. When you’re ready to fire it, drop what I handed to you in here. He pointed to the top tube. They’ll combine, and launch through here. He pointed to the tube aimed at the wall. Be within six or seven feet of whatever you’re trying to capture. It’ll take a few seconds for the materials to react, so it’s best if you can hide it in some way, and not tip off your target. You’ll only have one shot, so make it count.

  Capture? Winn said. I thought we were going to kill it.

  As far as you’re concerned, it’ll be gone, Lyman said. It will not be able to exert any influence, so your problem will be solved. Don’t use it before you collapse the houses; it’s not going to do a thing if you launch it in one of those duplicates that are under its control. Got it?

  I guess so, Winn replied, unsure of how far he should press Lyman. Then I return this to you?

  You can, but I’m not worried about the launcher, Lyman said. They’re easily replaced. So are those. Lyman pointed to the round lump of coal Winn was holding. What is not easily replaced is the substance I’m going to place in the lower chamber.

  Lyman moved back to the machine where he’d emptied the tube and released several latches that ran up and down the front of it. Then he pulled the machine in half. It split open, hinged at the rear, and revealed the back of a small being, roughly the size and shape of a child. The top of its head was smooth, and Winn couldn’t see any ears on the sides of its head. He was shocked to see that the child’s legs were amputated just below the waist. Tubes stretched from the sides of the machine to the child’s back, and thin streams of blood rolled down from each insertion point. It was shaking slightly, and at first Winn thought it was cold, perhaps reacting to the chill in the cave’s air. As he saw fluid moving through the tubes, he realized it was shaking in response to whatever was being pumped into it.

  Lyman reached forward and slowly slipped his hand inside a four inch incision in the side of the child’s torso, shoving in deeply until he was buried up to the wrist. He moved his hand inside it, reaching for something. When he retracted his hand, it was covered in blood and gore. He opened his fist, and in his palm were three small pebbles, no larger than pennies.

  Hand me that tray, would you? Lyman asked Winn, and Winn turned to find a small metal plate on the table behind him. He grabbed it and passed it to Lyman, who took it with his free hand. He held the bloodied hand over the tray, and slowly turned it until the pebbles slid from the surface of his palm and hit the metal. They immediately began to turn to liquid, and ran together, forming globs like mercury.

  Winn was mesmerized by the process. He watched as Lyman set the tray down on the table, then returned to the machine and folded its halves back around the child, securing it inside.

  Then he returned to the tray on the table, where several jars were lined up along the table’s edge. He selected one of the jars, opened it, and shook some of its contents over the liquid in the tray. The globs slowly began to change, hardening and then dissolving into a powder. Lyman scooped some of the powder into a tiny capsule the size of an aspirin. He took the ca
psule and placed it in the lower tube of the launcher, and sealed the end with a substance that looked like wax.

  There, Lyman said, handing the Y back to Winn. It’s ready.

  What is that stuff? Winn asked.

  It’s complicated, Lyman replied.

  Tell me, Winn said. If I’m to use it, I should know what it is.

  Lyman looked at Winn, staring him down. Winn returned the look, defiant. He intended to get a little more information from Lyman than he seemed willing to impart.

  Lyman looked over at the Asian man on the chair. You see that man? The one I sent into the cave?

  Yes.

  He was a Khmer Rouge soldier at Tuol Sleng, Lyman said. Are you familiar with the Khmer Rouge?

  I remember something about them, Winn said. The Vietnam war?

  They were Cambodian. Bloodthirsty, ruthless. Committed millions of atrocities. Tuol Sleng was a prison in Phnom Penh. That man sitting right there, that frail little body, personally extracted over twelve-thousand confessions from his fellow Cambodians at that prison. Do you know how he did it?

  I don’t, Winn said, although he had his suspicions.

  By using some of the worst torture committed in the past century, Lyman said. After he tortured a person, and got them to give up all of their friends and family with false accusations, he would take them out back and kill them by pounding their skulls in. Wouldn’t shoot them, because the Khmer Rouge considered it a waste of ammunition. He personally killed thousands, until the gravesites at Tuol Sleng filled up, and they began to ship them to Choeung Ek, where there was much more room to kill and bury people. Millions, by the time the Khmer Rouge was done. Do you know what happens to a mind that performs those kinds of atrocities, those kinds of sadistic, unspeakable acts, over and over, for years?

  No, Winn replied.

  You don’t want to know, Lyman responded. But it’s potent, I assure you. Evil and sick, but very potent. Far more potent than the cavalry soldier I used to use. He was very ruthless with the local natives years ago, but in the eighties I decided to upgrade to this man. He pointed again to the small Asian on the chair. His level of barbarity is much more intense and focused. Completely, utterly merciless, without a single shred of decency or an ounce of remorse. You wouldn’t think it, to see him sitting there, would you?

  No, Winn replied, swallowing hard. He did something to whoever is further down that tunnel? Winn asked.

  What’s down that tunnel is the reason I couldn’t allow Deem to come in here, Lyman said. It’s been a hundred years in the making, and I can’t have her exposed to it. It’s years and years of potent, compounding evil, building and building, and only a twisted mind like my soldier over there can deal with it effectively and without emotion. Only a few people know of it, and you are now one of them. I was willing to trust you because you’re a blank, so I know it won’t be unceremoniously lifted out of you when you’re not thinking. I can’t take that risk with others. It’s unnecessary. And it’s unfair to them, to saddle them with the knowledge of it, if they needn’t know.

  So I can tell Deem about this weapon? Winn replied.

  Yes, but not about anything else.

  She’ll want to know more.

  Lyman smiled. I know she will. You will not tell her, the same way you didn’t tell her about carrying the compass for Sani. There will come a time when I will need Deem’s help, and that’s when I will share things with her. Until then, protect her for me. There are many things down here she is not prepared to learn about. I suspect if she knew about my cage down that tunnel, it would eat at her, and cause trouble for both her and myself. I have been laying these plans for decades, and I cannot afford to have them derailed. You understand?

  I understand, Winn replied, fearing that no matter how he handled it, Deem wasn’t going to understand.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Deem walked determinedly upstairs, passing by Carma, who stood in the hallway with her mouth open, about to ask a question, but deciding not to when she saw the look on Deem’s face.

  Once she reached her room upstairs, Deem quietly shut the door and sat down on her bed.

  You’re behaving like a child, she thought.

  You’re nineteen, began the counter argument in her head.

  My mother always said the youngest is the most spoiled, the one who expects things handed to them. The ones who dislike being told ‘no’ the most and the ones who excel at making it difficult for their parents to do so.

  Thinking about her mother made her even more depressed.

  So Lyman has something he will only show Winn, so what? she thought. There’s probably a very good reason.

  There’s always a reason, the counter-arguer said. Just like at church. The men get to do certain things, and the women have to do other things, usually less important and less fun. I’ve been hearing this shit my whole life. I didn’t think Lyman would do it, too; but then, he is a nineteenth-century Mormon. What did I expect, really?

  She looked at her desk. Sitting next to her laptop was the box that held Lorenzo’s journal.

  Did Carma bring that up here? she wondered, standing up and walking to the desk. She opened the box and pulled out the journal. Another nineteenth-century Mormon, she thought. I’m surrounded by them.

  But maybe this one will talk to me.

  She turned the pages of the journal, stopping on the drawing of the mirror. She admired the intricate illustration. He took his time preparing this, Deem thought. He really tried to plan things out. Now he’s just trapped, unable to do anything useful.

  She fell into the River, and the mirror came to life.

  Deem? Lorenzo called. Is that you?

  I’m here, Deem replied. She saw Lorenzo’s face reappear in the mirror. It was swollen and deformed, the large boils on his skin discolored and infected. Definitely the radiation, Deem thought. It changed him somehow, just like it changed Bingham. But Bingham appeared transformed in the house, unlike Lorenzo.

  Perhaps Lorenzo’s arrowhead protected him in other ways, too, she wondered.

  Hello, Deem. I’m delighted to see you again. I was worried you might be frightened off by my story and you’d abandon me.

  No, Lorenzo, we’re not scared off, not yet. But our sick friend, David, has become comatose, just like Henry. We’re worried about him.

  I saw the new house appear, Lorenzo replied. And there’s another, not yet developed, but that will appear soon. I’m afraid that one will take Winn.

  We have an idea, Deem said. We intend to complete Jacob’s plan. We talked with someone who knows a little about places like the Blackham mansion. She told us how to collapse the houses. She also said that Jacob’s father was wrong about the Creepsis. It won’t die when the houses are collapsed. It has to be taken out.

  You mean, kill it? Lorenzo asked.

  Yes, kill it. That’s the only way for it to release the hold it has on David and Winn. And you.

  Deem saw Lorenzo look down and away, a wistful expression passing over him.

  Is something wrong, Lorenzo? she asked.

  No, he replied. I know he must be used up. Justice demands it, if nothing else. It’s only that…Bingham’s been the only living thing I’ve known for more than a hundred years.

  He’s hardly your friend, Lorenzo.

  No, I know that. He’s not my friend. He is, and always has been, a murderer, the man who took my life away from me, and Jacob’s life. Yet, so many years I’ve spent here, hoping he would drift by one of the doors, so I could see another living, moving thing, and perhaps talk. It has taken a toll, I’m sure you can appreciate.

  Sounds a little like Stockholm Syndrome to me, Deem said.

  Stockholm Syndrome? Lorenzo asked.

  Oh, I’m sorry. It’s a modern reference, after your time. It’s when a victim begins to defend their captor, and loses sight of the fact that they were kidnapped.

  Oh, Lorenzo replied. Well, if you think that is applicable here, I’ll take your word for it. I�
��m ready to admit that isolation has probably ruined any type of objectivity I might have had about my life.

  There was a brief pause in the conversation as Deem considered what to say next.

  This mirror is staying connected much longer tonight, she observed.

  I think, since we’ve met, it now has a much stronger connection. How soon do you think you’ll engage your plan?

  It might be tonight, Deem replied. You mentioned you have a device that maps the houses — can you give me directions to where you think Jacob might be? If we have to wander around forever we might never find him.

  I have studied it for as long as I’ve been in here, Lorenzo replied. And he must be in either one of two places.

  Deem pulled out her phone and opened a note. I’m ready, she said. Give me the directions to both.

  Lorenzo rattled off a series of turns for each destination, and Deem typed them into her phone, reading them back to Lorenzo to verify she had noted them correctly.

  If you make a wrong turn and get lost, Lorenzo said, remember, the most important thing is to not cross into the house that will trap you. Leave something distinguishing by each door in the original, something that can’t be moved the way my rose was moved, something you can easily see. You can always drop out of the River and start again, but if you become trapped, you’ll have no way of finishing.

  We’ll use something other than a rose, Deem said, smiling.

  Lorenzo smiled back. So Jacob’s father had it half right? I guess my plan was doomed from the start.

  You realize that when we collapse the houses, you and Bingham will be trapped in a single house, together.

  Yes. I’m rather looking forward to it.

  Why?

  I intend for him to take me and dispense with me, Lorenzo said. I’ve wanted that for many years now, a way to end things.

  Once the collapse occurs, you’ll be free to move on, on your own, Deem replied. You don’t need him to finish you off.