We both sagged under the heaviness of it all. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face: beaten, lost and angry.
“That would explain a lot.”
“What do you mean?” I asked Henri as I tried to steady myself. I felt drained and literally wiped out. I wanted nothing more than to hug Phoenix. What would he do if he were here?
Henri sat in the seat across from me. “I mean this kid was a tortured soul. If what you say is true, he was twisted as a human and now is just as evil—if not more evil—as a spirit.”
“Well, I could see that, I guess. I can’t imagine setting my own mother on fire, but then again, I haven’t been beaten to a bloody pulp. His father had some real issues, all hellfire and brimstone. This kid has a way of twisting things around. He’s pretty powerful and not altogether the victim anymore.”
One word kept repeating over and over in my mind. Evil. Evil. Evil.
Before I had the opportunity to ponder this word that pounded in my brain, my cell dinged and so did Henri’s. Happy to be thinking about something other than the paranormal, I reached for mine and was surprised to see that it was Sierra.
“Sierra?” Henri asked as he glanced at his phone and then at me.
“Yeah, I wonder what this is about.”
Both of us studied the email, but Henri wasted no time. “We need to get to a computer. There’s a link here. She says it’ll explain some things.”
I nodded in agreement, but my eyes were glued to the subject line. She’d typed it out in capital letters: NOT A MAELSTROM! I breathed a sigh of relief, but I wasn’t quite sure what that meant and how that changed things for us. We had a collector or something pursuing a little girl who had nothing to do with any of this, and we had Phoenix who was fighting the urge to fall under this creature’s power.
And then there was me, the idiot who activated the statue.
It was all too much. I followed Henri to the workroom and then to his tiny office. It was getting late, but neither of us was going to sleep tonight. That was becoming quite apparent. I pulled a chair up and sat in the doorway. Truly, this office was only big enough for one person.
“Take a look at this. It’s a link to an old newspaper article. It’s about the Glass family. They used to operate a school. No, not a school. I think it was an orphanage. Hey, didn’t we hear that Mr. Glass’ family were the caretakers of a cemetery for orphans or something like that?” Henri clicked on the images and rubbed at his forehead. I gathered he was getting another headache. He had a lot of those lately.
“Yeah, it says here that the cemetery was on the grounds of that very orphanage. Heaven’s Home, also known as the Glass Home for Orphaned Children. Wow! Sierra really dug deep to get this information. Looks like over the years, there had been quite a few deaths. A few suspicious deaths too, and eventually the operation was forced to close. The local government shut it down. Kids were being abused, Aggie.”
I sighed sadly, then Henri exclaimed, “Look at this photo!” I leaned forward in my chair to get a better look at what he was talking about. I gasped at seeing the old photograph, which greatly resembled crazy Mr. Glass. Had to be a relative of his, since this picture was over a hundred years old.
“Amazing family resemblance, isn’t it?” I said in disbelief.
“I think this must be a photo of his grandfather or maybe a great-uncle. Definitely a relative by the look of him.”
I bit my lip as I stared harder. Now I was getting a headache. “Can you zoom in a little? Make it larger?” I asked as a sinking feeling developed in the pit of my stomach. He clicked on the picture, and I watched in horror as the image became clearer. Oh, no. “That’s him. That’s the Soul Collector. I don’t understand. How is he so powerful? What is his power over all of us? I know in my gut he likes killing and claiming orphans. Randall’s parents were just extras, a means to an end. He really hungers for children, for orphans. But we aren’t orphans.”
“I am,” Henri said sadly as he printed the information and handed it to me. “I am an orphan.”
“Really?” I asked in disbelief. What the heck does this mean? “But you haven’t even seen him. Would he come after you? Is he targeting you?”
“No. I’m a grown-up and can defend myself. I’m not vulnerable, but my daughter is, Aggie. My daughter is only a little girl. I can’t believe I did this. I let this happen.” Henri slumped over his desk, and I could swear he was crying softly. “Give me just a minute, okay?”
“Okay, Henri. I’m going upstairs. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
Without looking at me, he said, “No. It’s okay. I’m going to see my wife, whether she wants to see me or not. I can’t leave them vulnerable. Are you going to be okay?”
“Of course. Patrice will be home soon. Go to Detra Ann, Henri. Go to her and tell her everything. We will fix this, I promise.” He nodded but continued to sag over his desk. I put the chair back and went upstairs to wait for Patrice.
I suddenly felt so tired. So very, very tired.
I passed out on the couch.
Chapter Fourteen—Aggie
I hated mirrors. All mirrors. I hated looking at myself in them. Why? Man, I was one screwed-up chick. I couldn’t imagine anyone else on this planet was as unconfident as me.
“Why are you so nervous?” Patrice joked with me as she touched my hair. “It’s not like you’ve never been on a date with him.”
I smoothed my hair back behind my ear. “Don’t pick on me, Patrice. I need help, not sarcasm.”
“Sis, stop fussing. You are beautiful just like you are. Remember what I told you the other night? Don’t change yourself for anyone. I think you are a classic beauty, despite the torn jeans and novelty t-shirts. You’re perfect.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Was my sister complimenting me? Will wonders never cease. Moving away from the mirror, I hugged her neck. “Thanks, Patrice.”
“Relax, Aggie. He adores you. Just remember that.” Patrice’s words went in one ear and out the other. I knew Phoenix liked me, but our relationship always seemed to hit some sort of otherworldly snag. I hadn’t told Patrice about his recent struggles. There never seemed to be any time to have a real heart-to-heart. She was off in another world, mentally speaking. Yeah, I meant to talk to her about that. What was she up to?
The knock at the door made me jump out of my skin. “Holy cow! I’m coming.”
Patrice pushed herself up out of the chair. “I’ll be leaving, Aggie. Three’s a crowd. Most of the time.”
“Okay, Patrice. Catch you later?” I asked her hopefully. She’d been MIA a lot lately.
“Enjoy yourself. I’m stepping out for a bit. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up, you two. Hey, Phoenix!” She grabbed her purse and keys and slipped out the door as Phoenix came in looking disheveled. Yeah, he looked like hell.
“Sorry I’m a little late. It was a rough night. I haven’t slept more than a few hours.”
His glum face and bloodshot eyes were very telling. There was no sign of his perfect smile. Phoenix sat down on the couch, hunched over with his elbows on his faded jeans. “It’s the nightmares, Aggie. I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks. I can’t shake this kid. He won’t shut up.”
“I think I have some news on that front.”
He looked up, his eyes sunken from lack of sleep. I felt extremely sorry for him. “What did you find out, Aggie?”
“A lot, I think.” I invited him to sit with me on my lumpy overstuffed couch. It might look like an old piece of furniture, but it was extremely comfortable. “The incident with Detra Ann and the baby, you know all about that. They were real lucky, and I heard today that the damage was mostly superficial. That’s good news. Henri and I were here, and we heard a sound, then saw something burning. I made contact with the statue, at his request.”
“What did you see, Ags? Do we know what happened to the boy’s father? That guy keeps appearing in my nightmares. He’s like a monster, tall and carrying a w
hip.”
I hesitated to answer that question. Nothing was for sure anymore. This case was different from anything else I had ever experienced. It was not a clean-cut investigation. “I don’t know, but if it would make you feel better…”
“Yes, it would. Please, Aggie, you’ve got to find out for me. I have to know why it’s attached to me. You don’t—” Phoenix seemed desperate to communicate his fears to me, but he stopped mid-sentence. His face lost all color, and his jaw dropped. I had seen that look before.
“What did you see, Phoenix?” I turned cautiously on the couch and stared down the dark hallway. Nope. Nothing. Just a weird sort of shimmer in the blackness. And I detected the slight smell of sulfur. Maybe I imagined that. That was certainly possible, wasn’t it?
“I saw the kid. Clearly. I think we should leave.”
“In here?” I replied, getting up from the couch and looking around the apartment.
Phoenix pointed from one end of the room to the other. “Yeah, he just ran right behind you.”
“He must have heard us talking about him. He’s a persistent little bugger, isn’t he?”
“I’d know that evil little face anywhere. Did he follow me here, or was he hanging out in your place already?” Phoenix dropped down onto the couch, rubbing his chin. That was something he tended to do when he was in deep thought. It was his tic. I loved it but also hated it. It meant that he would be overthinking and that anything I would say would fall on deaf ears.
“You stay here, Phoenix.”
He wasn’t eager to obey me. No way did he want to be left alone with this ghost hovering around. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to get you answers. There’s only one way I know how to do that, at least for me.”
Phoenix dogged my steps as I headed down the staircase to the shop. It was closed and there was no one around so we would have total privacy. I knew Sierra would not approve, but my guy was a train wreck, a complete and total train wreck. He said, “I can’t let you go do this alone. I’ll come with you.”
“Seriously, I can handle it, Phoenix.”
To my surprise, he laughed. “I know what you plan on doing. You’re going to touch that statue again. What if you faint?”
It was nice seeing him smile, even if it was at my expense. “You’re right. I might need you to catch me.”
The shop was quiet as we headed back to the room with the headstone. “Where is it?” Phoenix whispered.
I looked around the room. “It should be right here,” I replied with sincere surprise.
At first glance, I didn’t see the little cherub. Maybe it was covered up? We had decided to keep it away from the customers while we sorted all this out.
Shoot! The room felt different. It even looked different. Things had been moved around and arranged in a peculiar fashion. Antique doorknobs were placed on the floor in a circular pattern, and one of the mirrors had been turned around, not an easy task to do. That mirror was incredibly heavy, and you needed a couple of pairs of hands to move it.
In the corner of the room sat the little cherub, uncovered, as if it were trying to hide from us. What in the name of heaven was this?
“Aggie, please be careful. Don’t let him get you!” Phoenix’s strange warning rattled in my brain as I placed my hands on top of the statue. In for a penny, in for a pound.
The room went dark.
*****
A man sat alone at an old wooden table, his face solemn and rough, full of despair. The ticking of the old grandfather clock echoed through the empty house. He sat, reading his newspaper with a cup of coffee beside him. Shuffling his paper, he paused. There were the sounds of a child’s footsteps above him. Impossible! There were no children on that floor. They were all below him, sleeping in the basement. That was their punishment for wasting food. He’d found the scraps outside; the dog was gobbling them up, but he found enough food to know that someone was wasting it.
Lowering the paper, the man looked up from it and listened intently, then went back to the daily news. The footsteps sounded again, and he could hear a low voice from above.
“Headmaster.” A soft whisper fell on his ears, startling him.
Which boy was out of bed?
It was past bedtime for all the children under his care. Mr. Glass’ heart began to pound like the hooves of a wild pony. Why would he be nervous about this? He was the headmaster here. He alone doled out the punishment, offered the rewards. This was his domain, and there would be no mercy given.
He walked up the stairs, his knees cracking and his back hurting. He looked around nervously. “Who’s playing around up here?” he shouted in a loud, booming voice.
“It’s me,” the voice whispered in his ear.
He swatted at it. How was that possible? He looked around as he held steady to the railing.
“Who is playing games with me?” the headmaster growled at the unseen boy.
Footsteps continued to run before him. This floor was empty; there could be no one up here. “Headmaster,” came the disembodied whisper again. “It’s me, Danny…”
Surprised, he paused in the hallway. “Leave me alone!” the man shouted. Fear sprouted up within him like a burning locomotive. “You are dead!” He hurried back down the stairs, eager to get out of the nearly empty house.
No! I am here. Right here, Headmaster! Can’t you see me? I see you!
The voice came from behind the man, forcing him to turn and peer into the empty space.
“Go back to the devil where you belong, evil spirit,” the man said through muffled tears. Yes, he was crying. He couldn’t believe it. How long had it been since he’d had a good cry? Fear made the tears appear. Fear fueled his sorrow. He had a hand in this strangeness. Did he deserve this terror? Did he? “Please, leave me be! Leave me be! You’re dead!”
He went back downstairs and attempted to go back to his reading, but the table began to shake vigorously. The man was utterly terrified by this high strangeness. He made his way toward the door to the basement to check on the children. Suddenly, the smell of smoke filled his lungs, and the door would not open! If he left the children here, they could burn up. They could all die. Well, so be it! He would not tolerate foolishness of any sort. Surely this was a trick, a cruel trick by one of the older boys. Todd, maybe. He was always defiant, from the first day to this one. He already had a mind to punish him. To punish him well.
“Open this door at once!” His booming voice came back to him. He was not amused by this at all. Not in the least. Yes, it had to be a trick! Why wouldn’t the door open?
He reached for the gun above the door. He would get a handle on this mess. These children would be punished, and if he had to mete out the same kind of punishment he gave Alfred, then so be it. Alfred was not the first child to die by his hand. Some children were defiant until the end, and for those bad seeds, there was nothing else to be done. A child’s giggles filled his ears, and a small hand shoved him against the wall, banging his face against the wood.
Headmaster Glass swore and accidentally fired a shot from his gun. The sound made his heart race even faster. He could hear screams now, not of any spirit but of the six children, one girl and five boys, who lived in his basement. The awful truth came to him—the place would burn. A fire would burn them all to the ground. He would perish too if he did not remove himself from the premises.
But what about the children?
He kept them secretly, unwilling to admit to the officials that he still maintained a few. He kept his operations moving, at a smaller scale, of course. What choice did he have? Mr. Glass had been paid to take these children. He would not, could not, send them back, for he would never go lacking financially. The smoke swelled up around his feet. A boy, a blonde-headed child, lit another match and tossed it on the floor.
The children beneath his feet were screaming, begging for his help. The smoke was thick now, and he tightened his grip on his gun as he tried again to open the door with his other hand.
The doorknob was blisteringly hot, and he screamed in pain. It was a terrible pain, excruciating, and it seemed to last for an eternity even though it was only a few seconds.
He could not go down there! He could not help them!
The strange giggling surrounded him again, and in the gathering darkness of smoke and fire, he heard the matchbox strike. He was there, Alfred! And another boy! He had died so long ago that Headmaster Glass had forgotten the boy’s name.
The next thing he knew, invisible hands were twisting the gun’s barrel, turning it toward him. Oh, how the spirit fought him! How terrible! How was this ghostly child stronger than he was?
And then even as he struggled to understand it all, the gun went off. He felt pain like never before. Headmaster Glass slid down the door as the thick, wet blood pooled around his body. He struggled to breathe, but he did not struggle long.
The child was there, one and then another. They had stolen his life. They caused his horrible ending.
No! You will not get the better of me! I will make you pay!
*****
As I peered into the dead man’s eyes, the vision began to dissipate, and I stood there in front of Phoenix without words. My heart sank at what I’d seen. Mr. Glass, the headmaster of the orphanage, had done horrible things, but eventually his crimes had caught up to him. His crimes had been innumerable, and he had not relented in death.
He had come back to seek his revenge, and no child he encountered was safe. None! Not Chloe, not Phoenix, no one. But why Phoenix? I could not say exactly except that he was a sensitive. Was that enough?
“What happened? You better sit down, Aggie.” Phoenix took my hand and led me to the chair outside Henri’s office.
“Mr. Glass, I mean his relative—he did horrible things to the children under his care. He was the one who ran the orphanage! Not this Mr. Glass, this man was older, but it was definitely his relative. I mean, even I could see how much alike they were. I have to ask, Phoenix. Is there any chance…are you an orphan? That might be why he’s targeting you.”
A Watch of Weeping Angels (Devecheaux Antiques & Haunted Things Book 3) Page 9
