He moved closer, directly underneath where the entity had stood. There was nothing now except the windswept cold air that stung his face like hundreds of pricking needles. He looked at the house once more as he stepped back from it.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “And soon, you’ll return to the hell from which you came.”
As Tahoe made his way back up the pathway, he felt the house almost watching him.
Chapter Eleven
Sidney pulled out of his driveway in the early morning hours; he had to get a head start. Today was the twenty-third, the meeting was at two o’clock, and Detective Goddard had phoned him early this morning to tell him that he had the book. He was able to pick it up anytime, but Sidney wanted to have it for the meeting. His breakfast was quick and followed by a Snickers bar as he drove.
At the police station, Goddard wasn’t busy, so he saw Sidney right away. The large, musty, black tome stood high on Goddard’s desk, awaiting him. Sidney could see the aged dust that stained the book’s black and tattered cover. He took a seat as Goddard filled him in.
“That’s the book in question, Sidney,” he said. “As you can see, it’s pretty old and ragged. How readable it is, I couldn’t tell you; you might be a better judge of that.”
On the outside, it appeared almost like a biblical text. Inside, it was more like a journal, yet missing was any chronological dictation of thoughts or events. Instead, it seemed to be a record of random, precarious notations and possible instructions. Sidney gently flipped through the browned and withered pages and glanced quickly at the writings. The handwriting seemed scrawled, almost illegible, but nothing he couldn’t try to decipher. He would take a better look at it in the library before the meeting.
“Also, I did some further checking on that mirror that disappeared.” Goddard sounded as though his curiosity had been sparked by Sidney’s interest. “It turns out it wasn’t the only black, opaque mirror in that house. There was another, only this one was a large, antique, Victorian glass that was never discovered among the inventory of Janet Leeds’ possessions.”
“You don’t mean the mirror that Leah wrote about in her memoir, the one she wasn’t allowed to go near?” Sidney voiced his confusion. “But, that mirror wasn’t opaque.”
“No, not that one,” Goddard said. “There were two Victorian mirrors; they were part of a pair. The one Leah wrote about had a gilded frame, the other had a silvered frame and was opaque. The latter was never discovered amid the possessions of the house, which are still part of it. Technically, all of those Marlowe heirlooms still belong to Paul Leeds. He sold the house to the city and planned to auction off the historical antiques, but never did.”
Sidney felt his face wrinkle in wonder as the story became even stranger.
“When I asked Leah about the handled mirror, she hadn’t seen or heard of it. She maintained that aside from the regular mirrors in the house, the only antique mirror was the one she was forbidden to go near.” Sidney paused. “Why would anyone want an opaque mirror?”
“Who knows,” Goddard said. “Either way, the large, silver-framed, opaque mirror has never been seen by anyone on record, and the handheld mirror disappeared out of this station a few years ago. I don’t see what difference it makes, I mean, everyone’s dead now, right?”
Sidney winced at Goddard’s failure to acknowledge the mystery that sat right in front of him, as well as the slight chuckle he’d uttered with his last comment. He tried not to let it show as he stood and thanked Goddard for the courtesy. Goddard then explained that the society was welcome to keep the book, as his department had no further use of it.
“Thank you, Detective,” he said, slowly making his exit. “And trust me, if we end up needing you, we’ll call.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, Sidney.”
Damn straight, Sidney thought, as he left Goddard’s office, anxious to get back to the university.
When he was surrounded once again by the peaceful hush of the library, he checked his watch—11:00, three hours until the meeting. That gave him plenty of time to peruse the book of which he’d waited just to get a glimpse.
It was dusty, faded in its black color and texture, and a smell of dampened cedar intermingled with the odor of old dust. As he opened the first page, Sidney realized that Goddard had been right. The various scrawled writings were patently illegible, so much so that Sidney’s eyes squinted when he attempted to read them. Not to mention the fact that he was no expert in Latin, but he could see that many of the words were written in the ancient language.
He continued flipping through the pages, until one of which, stopped him. The page had once been wet, and now it swelled and puffed outward from the thick tome. Sidney realized why as it was a makeshift watercolor depiction, a perfect portrayal of the mirror that Leah had described. The gilded frame surrounding it was included, and the glass was rendered in a light, watery blue that represented its reflection.
In the picture, around the sides of the glass, painted streaks of green light seemed to emanate from it, as though the light were coming from the mirror. The shabby watercolor page was warped, crinkled, but it clearly displayed the mirror as something other than what is was. It was a depiction of the mirror’s dual purpose. By sight, it would seem a timely antique lending its historical beauty and relevance to the house; but behind closed doors, it secretly served as an instrument in the occult rituals that took place there.
Was that it? Sidney thought. Or was the mirror some kind of cursed object?
As he turned the page, a loose paper drifted out from the book. It had been hidden, stuck between the childlike watercolor and the following page. Sidney picked it up as it had fallen to the floor. It was another picture, done in the same format, only this one showed the mirror with the streaks of light around it and what appeared to be stick people joining hands in front of, and behind the mirror.
Sidney felt a wave of shock raise the hair on his arms and head. Could the mirror be...a doorway? Was that what the childish hand was portraying in the paintings? Sidney had heard of such things, but never had he encountered the prospect in any of his investigations.
A doorway, he asked himself, from where? Was that why Leah’s mother was so insistent that she never go near it? He tucked the second small painting back into the fold in which it was hidden and continued to flip through the pages. He could hear his breath becoming heavier.
He stopped on another page, where random words were scribbled once again. This time, the one word that leapt from the page at him was in English, and it was readable.
Legion...
He felt his blood turn cold.
* * * *
Hollywood had just hung up the phone with Susan Logan. She wanted her to alert Snake as to what was happening today: the paranormal investigators were having a meeting before they entered Cedar Manor tomorrow night. Susan and the team thought it best, under the circumstances, that Snake and Hollywood not attend the investigation.
“First of all, you’re both underage, and given what happened to your friend, I’m afraid that this whole thing could get dangerous. I would never place either of you in the path of that danger again; it would be remiss of me. I think you’ve witnessed enough,” she’d said. “I also don’t want the authorities to think that we’re investigating because of the incident. It would draw attention and hamper the team’s investigation.”
While a part of Hollywood stirred to go with the investigators back to the scene, she understood what Susan was saying. Part of her really didn’t want to go back there after what had happened to Jimmy, especially on Christmas Eve. Tomorrow night, she just wanted to enjoy Christmas and try to surpass the recent tragedy.
But Hollywood did intend on being at the meeting, today, if only for a moment. She had to wish the team luck, especially Leah Leeds. She clutched the gold and ruby cross that hung around her neck. It couldn’t have helped Jimmy that night, but Hollywood felt it might help Leah Leeds. A deep and ominous feeling in
side of her told her that Leah was going to need it.
She removed it from her neck and held it by its chain in front of her. She and Snake would make it to the university; she would give it to her then.
* * * *
Maybe Susan’s right, Paul thought, as he stood on the front porch of his daughter’s cottage-style home, knocking on the front door. His knocking had somehow finalized his decision to tell his daughter the truth; it was now or never. He’d hoped that if Leah knew the truth that Janet was not her mother, the haunting and traumatic visions of Janet’s suicide would dissipate, along with Leah’s determination to go back into that house. After all, he thought, wasn’t it Janet’s death that was driving Leah’s impassioned decision to return to the house?
He felt sure he could end this all, right now.
The door opened wide and swiftly before him with not even the slightest sound of approaching feet preceding it. She stared at him blankly with those blue eyes, and her long blonde hair hung down the sides of her face. She didn’t seem surprised to see him, taking a deep breath and standing in the doorway.
“May I come in?” he asked, lightheartedly. She pulled the door open wider and said nothing as she watched him enter.
“I guess you’re here to talk me out of it, right?” Her tone was serious, but she kissed him back when he bent to kiss her forehead.
So, Susan had already told her that he was opposed. He’d been hoping to have some sort of advantage, if she thought he hadn’t known yet.
“Please tell me you’re not going to do this,” he said. “You know how dangerous this is.”
“Dad, you don’t understand,” she said, but he interrupted.
“No, Leah, you don’t understand. I know what that place did to me, and it’s trying to do the same damn thing to my daughter, and I won’t have it. Leah, it can only try to get to you when you’re here on the outside, but once you’re in, it’ll take whatever it can get from you—your soul, your sanity, or your life.”
Now they sat face to face on the living room sofa in confrontation mode.
“Dad, I can’t take it anymore,” she said. “I have to discover what it is that it wants with me. I have to clear my mind of that place and rid myself of these visions.”
He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration, feeling his futile attempt falling flat.
“I spent two years of my life institutionalized because of what I saw in that place,” he said. “But, I didn’t let it get me. Now, it wants you.”
“That’s just it, Dad,” she said, impatiently. “What did you see in that place? What was it? Why would you never tell me? Don’t you think I have a right to know? Did you tell Susan? She doesn’t know either, does she?”
He wouldn’t answer her, and as Leah pressed and repeated the questions, he began hacking. His cough was harsh, raw, and she began to pat his back. He grabbed his inhaler from his inner coat pocket and pumped a cloud of mist into his lungs.
“I’m okay,” he said. Once the air entered his lungs, and the creeping, asthmatic-panic attack had faded, he felt more prepared to continue the conversation. “I can’t lose you. Don’t you understand? You’re all that I have left.”
“You won’t,” she said. “But, whatever’s in that house is trying to steal something from me that I won’t give. It almost took you away from me. It took my mother away from me...”
“Leah, there’s something you have to know,” he said, trying to get his words out as Leah rambled on with her protests. Finally, he interrupted her again.
“Leah, she wasn’t your mother! Now do you understand? She wasn’t your mother!”
He felt his heart break as he watched her angelic face fall, silently stunned, as though he’d slapped her. She just stared at him with those eyes, searching to see if he was the right person.
“What did you say?” Her tone was questioning, reaching to catch something she may have missed or misheard.
“The woman you thought was your mother was not,” he said, watching her face. “Janet was my second wife; she was your stepmother. Your biological mother died of a blood disorder when you were six months old. That’s what I came here to tell you. I’ve never told you before because I was afraid it would hurt you too much.”
He continued to watch her face, which at first, seemed to sink, but then her eyes lifted, staring off into space, wondering. Time was maddening as he waited for her to speak. He shifted on the sofa and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. The picture slips splayed open and outward like a plastic rolodex as he opened the wallet, and from behind his picture of Janet, he retrieved another picture, one hidden for over twenty years.
Paul took one last look at the picture before he relinquished it to his daughter forever. From the picture, she stared back at him with that movie star smile that could have made her famous. The bright, blue eyes she’d passed on to her daughter and her long, golden hair the color of honey, made him wonder why he’d kept the picture hidden in the first place. He supposed he hadn’t wanted to offend Janet. Now, he gave the picture to Leah.
“This is your mother,” he said. “Her name was Allison. I guess you can see where you get those looks, right kid?” He laughed nervously, still waiting for a response through the silence. “She was your mother, not Janet.”
Leah stared silently at the picture. Her eyes squinted, pondering some distant thought or recollection.
“I know,” she said. “I don’t know how, but I’ve always known in some way.” Paul felt the stun of her calm words. She stared at the picture again. “She’s beautiful.”
Her face displayed only minute signs of confusion. So, Susan had been right, again; Leah’s powerful intuition had zeroed in on something she’d subconsciously never wanted to acknowledge. Janet was not her mother. Her mind hadn’t been aware of that fact, but her heart had always known.
“I’m sorry, Leah,” he said. “I wanted to tell you all these years but...”
He stopped as her soft hands reached over and took his hands in hers. She pulled him a little closer. He was surprised by the slightest sign of an understanding smile that spread across her face.
“Don’t you see, Dad,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Janet died because of the evil in that house. That evil possessed a soul that it had no right to claim and took her away from us. She was who I knew as my mother; that truth will stay in my life forever.”
His breaking heart filled with bittersweet pride, yet his plan to keep her out of Cedar Manor and encourage endless therapy with Susan had failed. His daughter’s giant heart had crushed his last attempt to keep her safe.
“Alright,” he said. “Then, if you’re going in, I’m going in with you.”
“No, you’re not!” Her eyes grew wide as she quickly pulled away from him.
“I’m going in with you, and the team, and Susan,” he said. “That’s final.”
He watched her as now she sulked before him.
“What does Susan think of this?”
“She actually encouraged me to do it years ago, but I didn’t. Now, she’s worried that I might try to stop you.” He grabbed her hands again and choked back tears. “Leah, if we face the horrors of the past, we face them together. I’m your father.”
They held each other for moments that seemed to stop time. When they rose from the sofa, he was lightly stroking the hair from the side of her face. He was conscious of the fact that he was making her feel like a little girl again. If so, he’d won.
“I’ll be attending the meeting today,” he said. “Don’t worry; I won’t be in the way. Remember, I’m another living eyewitness. You might end up needing me.”
They laughed lightly on their way to the door. She opened the door for him and asked one last question.
“I’m going to ask you one last time, Dad, before we go in there.” His back was turned to her as he stood in her doorway, facing the blanket of snow that buried the forgotten yard. “What did you see in that house?”
The atmosphere that had sustained their lighthearted laughter was now usurped by the sudden silence. The time for keeping secrets had passed; she was going in with or without him. Now, he turned in the doorway, faced her, and responded.
“The devil,” he said, and walked away.
Chapter Twelve
It was 1:40, according to her watch, when she and Snake made it to the university. They’d caught the 1:30 bus from the mini-mart to the university, arriving just in time to wish the investigators luck before the meeting.
“Wow, I can’t believe we came all the way here so you could give her a cross,” Snake said. “It’s supposed to start snowing, soon. You do know there’s another storm coming, don’t you? I just hope we don’t have to walk home.”
“We won’t,” she said. “There’s another bus into town leaving here at 2:30. We’ll find something to do until then. Besides, I heard the worst of the storm is going to hit us tomorrow.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, as they entered Levin Hall and walked up the stairs to Room 208.
The door had been slightly propped ajar, but she knocked as a courtesy.
“Come in,” an unidentified male voice called out.
Slowly, they walked into Room 208. Dylan Rasche, whose voice she’d heard, was standing at the head of the table. Seated around it were Sidney Pratt, Susan Logan, and Leah Leeds. Their faces appeared surprised.
“We apologize for the interruption,” she said. “I know we weren’t supposed to be here. But, we came to wish you all luck before going in there. After what we saw the other night, we just have a feeling that you might need all the prayers you can get.”
“Yeah,” Snake said. “And of course, if there’s anything we can do to help—”
“Yes,” Dylan said. “Actually, we’re glad you came. We did want you to go over with us once more, what you saw, where exactly you saw it, and of course a few more details about Jimmy, if you wouldn’t mind.”
The Third Eye of Leah Leeds Page 14
