The stairs brought her out into a passage on the first floor, and her flashlight beam picked out scraps of yellow police incident tape. She realized she was on the main passageway which led to the side doors—and remembered they were boarded up again. "Damn it!" she cried and turned left, intending to try and break the paneling open from the inside. The thought of going deeper into the grim building in search of an exit did not appeal.
Her flashlight speared the darkness ahead—a darkness that seemed to whirl like black smoke over the floor. Nonplussed, she stood for a moment before her heart leapt into her mouth as she thought the fiery spirit had set fire to the place. As she watched, the smoke whirled into several tighter patches before rising to fill the passageway with noise and movement. The dark funnels of cloud looked like tornadoes, a sight guaranteed to strike fear into any Indianan. Spinning around, she shone the light in the other direction and saw the passageway was clear.
Frightened and uncertain what to do, she looked from one way to the other. Voices began to sound in her head, voices that moaned and pleaded before rising to heartrending screams. She pressed her hands to her ears, deafened by the sound and staggering under the buffets of wind spiraling off the strange tornadoes. Desperately, she pressed her back to the wall and tried to inch along it sideways, striving to reach the doors.
"Claudie! Help me!"
The familiar voice penetrated through the noise and her covered ears to drive a shock wave right through her. "Caroline?"
"Claudieeeeee!" Her sister's voice rose to a scream.
Forgetting everything, even Marty, she turned and ran in the direction of the sound. Double doors stood across the passageway at intervals, all open. Her feet pounded on the scuffed tiles and kicked through debris of scattered papers. All the time that voice screamed from somewhere ahead of her. Then a light appeared, framed in the outline of a square opening. "Claudieeeee!"
"I'm coming!" she yelled. "Hang on, Caroline, I'm coming!"
She burst out of the passageway into the central hall, to find it lit with an unpleasant sickly glow. Caroline lay on her side in the center, her face a mask of terror. More of the spectral tornadoes whirled in the penumbra of the light, strangely silent and even more frightening in their lack of sound. She ran to her sister's side, crouching down and reaching out to draw her into her arms. Her arms passed through thin air. Gaping, she watched the figure of Caroline fade into nothing.
A voice spoke from out of the darkness. "Welcome, Ms. Mackenzie. I've been expecting you."
Chapter Sixteen
She looked up, her senses reeling, to see a man walk into the light; a middle-aged man with slicked down black hair and beady black eyes, who regarded her with his hands clasped behind his back. She took in his clothing at a glance. Three piece suit, a gold chain hung across the vest connected to the top of a fob watch; a white shirt with stiff, starched collar and a black tie stuck with a silver pin. Black patent leather shoes shone in the sickly light.
"Your sister is unavailable right now, but you'll prove useful to bring her here later." A thin smile creased his thin, bloodless lips. "I can wait; I have all the time in the world."
She tried to think of the words Marty used, the Celtic blessing that had worked so well in the past. "Deep peace of the…”
"Enough of that!" he roared with such volume and near-physical force she sank to her knees under the impact. Instantly the tornadoes stopped, to reveal row upon row of gaunt, gray figures, male and female, all standing and staring at her with such hopeless expressions, she felt her heart would break with pity.
"Your boyfriend's little prayer won't work here," he said in cold tones. "Don't waste your time or mine!"
* * * *
When Martin picked his torch up off the floor, it flickered and dropped to a weak yellow glow. Rapping it with the heel of his hand, he managed to bring it back up to full brightness, which lasted for a few seconds before flickering erratically. "Damn the luck!" he said, shaking the thing. The flickering continued.
Resigning himself to using the uncertain light, he headed for the door to the passageway, the shadows swooping and soaring around the chamber in the wavering light. The door was locked or bolted. He rattled the handle and pushed at it to no effect. Fetching the sledgehammer, he placed his flashlight on the floor with the beam directed at the door, squared up to the obstacle, and brought the hammer round in a flat arc, which ended at the lock.
Metal parts flew and wood splintered as the battered door creaked open in defeat. Dropping the hammer, he picked up the torch and stepped into the passageway. "Claudia?" he called, his voice raising an echo. "Claudia, where are you?"
The flashlight flickered, went out for a brief heart-stopping moment, and then came on again with an anemic glow. Taking a deep breath to control his rising nervousness, he gripped the flashlight and tried the doors on either side of the passage.
One was a closet containing a broken metal pail and a lot of spider webs. The other was a washroom with a single pedestal and a washbasin. He checked both rooms as well as he could with the uncertain light before heading for the stairway. The light didn't carry beyond a few feet, so he stayed close to the left hand wall, holding the flashlight low to cast what light it gave on the floor. A few steps on and a wave of coldness washed over him. His psychic senses began to tingle, and he raised the torch, directing it ahead. Whatever lay ahead in the darkness, he knew it wasn't Claudia.
A pale face emerged first, surrounded by a halo of white-blond hair that floated like thistledown in a breeze. Two wide, dark eyes in deep, shadowy sockets looked at him with an emotion he couldn't quite define. Slowly, the rest of the figure came into view, floating parallel to the floor as if weightless, emerging from the shadows until a beautiful young woman appeared before him, her ragged white nightgown billowing in some ethereal wind. From her face to her exposed bosom and down to her shapely bare feet, her skin was a pale, translucent blue-white, and seemed to glow from within.
"You're Martin Grey!" she exclaimed. She swung her legs down until she touched the floor and looked almost normal. Almost. "I'm Winifred Morgan!"
"The lady in white!" he said. "It's good to meet you at last."
"Likewise." She stepped forward, one hand outstretched as if to touch him, and gave him an anxious look. "Mr. Grey, we haven't much time. The evil one has captured your companion!"
"What?" Any trace of nervousness he'd felt blew away in the blast of anger that surged through him. "Where is it?"
"It's in the main hall." When he made to move past her, she touched his arm, her fingers chilling his flesh even through the coat sleeve. "I'm sorry!" she said as he gasped and flinched. She glanced down at her exposed bust, and she pulled the gaping neck of her nightgown closed. "Excuse me; I forget how cold it is here. Look, the evil is powerful; he has help from the souls of those who died here. You won't defeat him alone!"
"I don't know about that! Let me just get him in my sights!" he growled, moving past her and reaching the stairs.
"Mr. Grey! Wait up!" In an instant she was in front of him, her hands stretched out to block the stairs. "I can help you! It's why I'm here! Dan knew this might happen; he planned for it!"
"He knew? How?"
She shook her head, her hair swaying back and forth like seaweed in an ocean tide. "It'll take too long to explain. We must go upstairs to the pavilion. The means to destroy the evil lies there!"
He drew a deep breath, fighting with his anger and fear for Claudia until the red mist faded from his eyes and he could think clearly again. "How do we get to the pavilion?" he asked.
"There's a door catty-corner to the right as you get to the end of the passageway and enter the hall. It's marked with a lintel bearing a pyramid motif."
"We need to go through the hall to get to it?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "I'll distract the evil one; you go to that door and up the stairs. Keep climbing until you reach the statue of Samson."
"What about you?"
S
he gave him a wan smile. "I've held that thing at bay for more years than I dare remember. He can't beat me, and he knows it." Her face fell. "But I can't beat him either, not without help. Once I take him on, it's all up to you. All or nothing."
"Then let's go!" he said. "We can talk on the move. What do I do when I get up there?"
She dropped her arms and moved back to let him pass. "Dan didn't tell me," she said in a sheepish voice.
He stopped and stared at her. "What?"
"Mr. Grey, remember what this place was! No one kept secrets in here for long! Dan knew I would talk if hurt badly enough, so he told me only what I needed to know, and buried even that little deep inside me by using hypnosis. Go up; look at the statue. The key to it all is there!" She hesitated and touched his arm again. "We'll rescue your friend."
"So mote it be!" Martin said thinking of Claudia and hoping desperately she was unhurt.
Winifred looked at him sharply, her eyes searching his face. Then she smiled. "You're from England. You follow the old ways?"
"I believe in them and I respect them," he said, "and there are powers willing to give me aid if I ask."
"That's good. Oh, there's so much evil afoot!" She shuddered.
"We shall put an end to it, Lady."
"So mote it be!"
"So shall it be!" he said. "Lady, please show me."
"This way," she said and held out her hand for him.
He took it, bracing himself to take the chill—but found instead her hand was warm. She smiled at him as they climbed. "I have some powers of my own, Mr. Grey."
* * * *
Jay followed the young woman across the grounds, keeping several paces behind her as she crunched barefoot across the snow without seeming to notice the intense cold. Several times he hovered on the verge of calling out to her, wondering if she was sick, or sleepwalking, or just insane.
She passed behind the Greville Wing and headed along the rear of the old building. He glanced up at it and shivered. It looked like the classic haunted house to him. Cursing his nervousness as unprofessional, he skirted the rear wall, watching her as she turned the corner of the east side. Waiting a few seconds to draw breath and give her time to get clear of the corner, he cautiously peered around. He saw her go in the very door where he and the cops had entered to find the last suicide.
Gripped by a surge of anxiety, he ran clumsily over the broken surface, once tripping on some solid object hidden under the snow and sprawling headlong. Another door at the bottom of a flight of steps caught his eye as he got up and dusted his coat off, but concern for the nurse set him off for the door she'd gone through. He reached the opening, saw the plywood panels had been laid aside in a neat stack, and peered into the stygian blackness within. "Hello?" he called, stepping inside. "Are you there?"
Something hit him on the back of the head, and the blackness was filled with stars.
* * * *
The hall was lit with a sickly radiance when they drew near. Martin could see hundreds of figures gathered there, all facing toward some point in the center of the hall. Each seemed an individual, yet all were gray and nearly featureless.
"The souls of dead inmates," Winifred murmured and shivered. "I walked among them when the evil one was distracted. They hate him but fear him, and do his bidding."
"Who is the evil one?" he whispered, keeping close to the wall as he peered ahead.
"He was Richard Rossiter, the superintendent here when I was an inmate."
"Ah! I thought so! He's the one you testified against?"
"Yes. He died while the inquiry was taking place." She pointed ahead. "I heard they found him lying dead from a coronary right in the middle of the floor out there." She grimaced. "And so all this began."
"Why do you stand out there whispering?" A man's voice came from the hall. "Come in, Mr. Grey! We've been expecting you."
"Fuck me!" He looked round at Winifred. She was gone.
*
Claudia watched as Martin emerged from the passageway and into the baleful radiance cast by the assembled ghosts. "Was there something?" he asked, staring hard at the figure standing above her.
"Marty!" she screamed, feeling the icy touch of the spirits that held her tight in bony hands. "Help me!"
He started forward. The spirit that seemed in control gripped her neck, and ice shot through her mind, making her gasp and shudder.
"No closer, Mr. Grey! I was not a violent man—but I control those who were!"
"Mr. Rossiter, I presume?" Martin said, standing with his hands on his hips. "I've been reading all about your work here."
"Ah! Someone who recognizes a pioneer in his field!" The spirit bowed. "Yes, I'm Richard Rossiter."
"Really?" Martin sounded almost bored. "What exactly are you trying to achieve here, hmm?"
"Is it not obvious?" Rossiter spread his arms and gestured at the multitude of spirits. "These people needed my help in life, and they're getting it in death. I look after them, Mr. Grey. They have nowhere safe, nowhere secure. I offer them refuge from all the toils and troubles of the world here and hereafter. Here they can pass eternity in silence and security."
"Stagnation! Denial of a future!" he shouted, raising the echoes. He pointed an accusing finger at Rossiter. "It's not up to you to decide where these spirits go!"
"Nor is it yours!" the spirit snapped. "It saddened me in life to see how few, so very few understood my aims and achievements! I was called to task over it through that interfering so-called witch upstairs!"
The icy grip left Claudia's brain as Rossiter began to pace up and down. "Even so, perhaps she did me a favor. I died, right here on this very spot." He pointed at the parquet floor, the slats of wood rising and buckling with damp and decay, resembling the mold-blackened ribs of an ancient skeleton. "I died, yet I found my spirit lived! Isn't that remarkable? It took time, but I found also I could influence others, particularly those who were mentally unstable. Even after I died, I could still carry on my work. Those who died stuck close to me, and I took care of them." He reached out and patted one of the gray shapes on the head, and it shuddered with a mixture of fawning attention and revulsion. "Over the years I added more to my little household, until you see what stands before you now."
"Why did you bring those other men here to kill themselves?"
"Why? Because they were just like these others. Lost, unwanted, un-mourned. I got into their minds, offered them this solace, and they came. It was the last chance to bring them here before this place is destroyed."
"And they added to your power?"
"I won't deny it."
"What of the boy? Why try to kill an innocent child?"
Rossiter shook his head. "An experiment I regret trying. The boy had a clouded mind. I sensed his turmoil when he came into the grounds. He was the product of a broken home, and I could have helped him." He glowered at Martin. "My kind gesture only served to bring you to interfere."
"So why are you haunting my sister?" Claudia screamed, finding her voice at last. "She's no threat to you!"
"On the contrary!" Rossiter snapped, and then sighed. "She's such a pure being, so good in her intent. Such a young woman too, yet so skilled in her art—as it's rated in these decadent modern times," he added with a sniff. "When she nursed these men in that old ward upstairs, I could see what effect she had on them. There was a danger she would turn them away from me, so I had to take steps to neutralize her. Luckily, she had a hidden perversion, a desire to use that machine to simulate the sex act." He shuddered. "A repugnant thing to be sure, yet it proved a useful entry to her mind."
"Where is she?"
"She's coming here," he said and smiled. "I intended to use her as bait so I could draw you here and deal with you. But it seems she was delayed on the road." He turned a reproachful gaze on Martin. "That amulet and that little drop of power you gave her were uncalled for, you know. It gave me a lot of trouble."
"You should let her go, Rossiter. You should let them all go and
move on yourself!" Martin said. "This existence is worthless! There are higher planes of being!"
"So you say, you who are still living!" Rossiter came over and stroked Claudia’s hair, icy fingers trawling through it to touch and chill her scalp. "Your lady friend loves you, I can tell. I love these patients, and I'll keep them from being molested by the likes of you!"
"What are you going to do to us?" she demanded, feeling her muscles seizing up in the cold.
"Do?" He tapped his chin. "Do? I suppose I hoped to persuade you to leave me alone to continue my work, but I can see my arguments are falling on deaf ears. I could induce you to kill yourselves and join me here, but then you're so very strong and independent. There's no way I'd want to spend my eternal career with you under the same roof. It's bad enough having that silly young woman up in that wretched pavilion."
"I abjure you to leave this place!" Martin thundered. "By the powers of the elements, by all that's right and holy, I call upon you to depart this world!"
"I don't think so," Rossiter replied quietly, but Claudia was sure he'd flinched under the impact of Marty's words. Rossiter gestured, and a gang of four spirits closed in on Martin and gripped his arms, stoically unheeding his struggles and invocations. "I'm too powerful here," Rossiter said with a whimsical smile. "It'll take more than you're capable of to remove me!"
At that moment, a familiar figure walked out into the hall. "Caroline!" she screamed and made to run to her. The icy fingers pushed Claudia hard to the floor, and she sprawled, pinned and helpless but able to watch Caroline walk forward, clad only in a short, mud-stained nightgown, to stand in front of Rossiter.
He reached out and caressed her face and down, over her breasts. "She's very pretty," he said in a soft, reflective voice. "I can see why some people become attracted to such girls. As it is, she can serve my purpose."
"Leave her alone!" Claudia screamed, struggling.
"Oh, I will! I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "You will leave this place and never return. Caroline will follow, once she's set fire to what's left of this building." He looked up and around. "I watched the men begin to prepare it for demolition. It served my purpose, so I left them alone. There's plenty of wood in here, it'll burn nicely. All it needs is a spark applied to the right place." He turned back to look at Martin. "I think you have the means to make fire," he said.
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