by Mark Lukens
But Thaddeus was happy … Laura could feel that. He was excited. He was sure that he was so close to finding …
Finding what? She couldn’t see what Thaddeus was after.
A second later, like the vision in Laura’s mind had jolted forward through time, Thaddeus and his men were in a large natural clearing. The land was relatively flat and surrounded by hills and the largest mountain peak of the island. This was the spot where the Thornhill Manor would stand one day. The guides stared down at something in the ground. Thaddeus’ eyes were full of wonder. He had found it … after all these years of searching he had finally found it …
And then Thaddeus stabbed one of his men with his machete, driving the blade deep into the man’s stomach.
Laura’s eyes popped open just as Kristen was handing out a few photographs to Nick right beside her.
“These are two of the few surviving photos of Thaddeus and Constance Thornhill,” Kristen said.
Nick glanced at the photos like he’d seen them many times before, and then he handed them right to Laura to pass along, but Nick locked eyes with her for a moment.
He knows I’ve seen something, Laura thought. She fought to hide the truth and forced herself to remain neutral when she looked at the photos because she already knew what she was going to see; she already knew what Thaddeus Thornhill looked like because she’d just seen flashes of him in her visions. And it was like Nick could sense all of that from her, like he had some kind of uncanny ability of his own to sense things.
Laura accepted the photos from Nick. She looked down at the first photo—there was a man and a woman in it. Constance was seated in a wingback chair, dressed in a formal gown, her hands gloved, an elaborate hat on her head. Thaddeus stood right beside her, tall and strong, dressed in a dark suit with some kind of ribbons or medals on his coat lapel. He wore no hat, and his long dark hair was loose, framing his angular and lean face, his hawkish nose, and those mean eyes.
He was a mean man, Laura thought. He didn’t try to hide his savagery with any kind of charm. The cruelness emanated from him and hung around him like a dark aura. He was a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted … he would even stab a man to death.
Laura passed the photos to Warren who sat closest to her.
“After this manor was built,” Kristen continued, “the Thornhills bought slave after slave from the main island to supposedly work the sugar plantation. But, like I mentioned, they never brought sugar or anything else to sell on the main islands. And they kept purchasing slaves.”
Laura saw another flash of violence in her mind … a slave screaming in pain and terror, his face shiny with sweat and tears …
“And no one was suspicious about that?” Warren asked, breaking Laura’s spell.
Kristen glanced at Warren and nodded. “It didn’t seem so at first; it wasn’t really a crime at that time to buy the amount of slaves they were purchasing. But the people on the main islands began to spread rumors about the Thornhills being involved in witchcraft and black magic, and those were crimes at the time. Maybe the rumors about black magic weren’t true; maybe they were borne out of jealousy, people on the other islands envious of the Thornhills’ wealth. But even the accusation of black magic was taken very seriously on these islands at that time. But it wasn’t until some local sailors and workers disappeared that the islanders really began to become involved. Many thought their friends and family members had been lost at sea, which was common back then, but many began to believe more and more that the Thornhills had something to do with the disappearances. And eventually people were sent to investigate.” Kristen paused dramatically. “And some of those people who came to investigate the Thornhills never returned.”
Laura saw another image in her mind: darkness, screaming, a flickering flame, running water … cold and dark … afraid …
“That was too much for the locals on the main islands,” Kristen said. “They organized and then sailed out here to storm the island.”
“Are you okay?” Nick asked Laura.
Laura looked right at Nick. She knew he’d been watching her for the past few minutes, studying her.
“Do you … feel something?” Nick asked.
The others were silent and Billy emerged from the darkness, his camcorder up to his eye, filming her. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for her to divulge the secrets she had seen.
“No,” Laura lied and smiled at Nick. And then she had to look away from his intense blue eyes that seemed to pierce her in the darkness.
He knew she was lying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“So what happened when they stormed the island?” Warren asked Kristen.
“Before I continue,” Kristen said, “I need to remind you that a lot of the research I’ve collected are just stories passed down from generation to generation. Much of it can’t be corroborated with fact.”
Her warnings didn’t seem to dissuade Warren any, he was still eager to hear what had happened.
Kristen took a deep breath and continued. “The story goes that the people of the main island stormed this island and the manor. They didn’t find the Thornhills. They didn’t find any of the slaves alive. They found the bodies of slaves, sailors, workers, and a few of the former investigators buried in shallow graves all around this manor outside of the iron fence that surrounds the property. There were no grave markers so the bodies weren’t found right away, and many believe not all of the bodies were discovered.”
“So you’re saying there might still be bodies buried out there somewhere beyond that fence,” Warren said.
Kristen glanced at Nick for a moment, and then looked back at Warren. “There are most likely still bodies out there because there’s no evidence that the people from the islands ever brought the dead back with them.”
“They didn’t bring their own people back?” Warren asked.
“I don’t know,” Kristen answered. “They definitely left the bodies of the slaves here, but there’s also evidence in the research I gathered that the others were left here, too. There seems to have been something so horrifying … so terrible … that they left everyone here and left the island alone after that.”
Nick stood up and began to slowly pace around their circle of lights, taking over for Kristen. Billy followed Nick with the camcorder. “As Kristen said earlier, the Thornhills were rumored to be alchemists or witches, in league with the devil some said—hence the name Devil’s Island. And they were supposed to stand trial for their crimes. Because the bodies found here may have been used in some kind of … a ritual … the superstitious islanders may not have wanted to bring them back with them. They may have felt that the bodies were somehow tainted now.”
Nick paused.
“And as Kristen said,” Nick continued, “Thaddeus and Constance Thornhill were never found. Some believed the two escaped by boat back to England or even to America. There were sightings of them in Charleston, South Carolina and New Orleans, but none of these reports were ever verified. Others believed Thaddeus and Constance killed themselves and that their bodies are still somewhere inside this manor. Buried inside these very walls, some say.”
Silence hung over the group, smothering them.
“Some believe,” Nick continued with a secretive smile, “that Thaddeus and Constance Thornhill sacrificed themselves to this house and made this house come alive with evil, awakening something powerful here.”
Nigel snorted out a laugh, but he didn’t say anything. He took another sip from his flask, the light from the construction lamps winking off the silver of the container.
“People searched this property for the Thornhills,” Nick continued. “The records prove that. But the searchers had some … accidents. And after a few strange deaths and grisly injuries, the townspeople finally gave up their search for the Thornhills, leaving the bodies behind.”
“Supposedly leaving the bodies behind,” Kristen corrected like she was trying to reassure
herself.
“But no one ever tried to take the property over,” Shane said like he already knew the answer.
“No,” Nick answered. “After the bodies of the slaves, sailors, and workers were found in the shallow graves, after the rumors of demons or the devil himself living on this island, the locals stayed away. The rest of the Thornhill family back in England was finally contacted about what had happened here, and they sent a man to inspect the property. He was only on the island for a few hours, ferried out here on a boat by some of the local islanders. The story goes that he was only inside the manor for a few hours, and then he ran out of the house screaming. He had deep scratches all over his face and he was terrified. But he never uttered a word about what he’d seen inside the manor. He ordered that the Thornhill Manor be locked up tight, the doors and windows boarded up. He went back to England and the Thornhill Manor stood empty for nearly forty years until another member of the Thornhill family …” Nick looked to Kristen for help.
Kristen glanced down at her notes, searching through a few pages in one of the folders. “A Rodney Thornhill.”
“Yes,” Nick said. “Supposedly a man named Rodney Thornhill came here with a work crew to try to turn the Thornhill Manor into a hotel and resort. That’s why you see the numbers on the rooms upstairs.”
“But those numbers don’t make a lot of sense,” Warren said. “They aren’t laid out in a logical order.”
Nick smiled. “I wondered if someone would notice that. I should’ve figured it would be you, Dr. Savage. Yes, the rumors were that Rodney Thornhill stayed out here for weeks with his crew, trying to update the property, attempting to add indoor plumbing and other modern conveniences of the time, building the pier you saw out there by the shore. But the rumors also state that the work was erratic, that it didn’t make a lot of sense or follow any kind of logical pattern. Some say he was going mad while here at the Thornhill Manor. Most of his crew had abandoned him after only a few days, and eventually the last two crew members literally dragged him off of the island. Once back on the main island, Rodney Thornhill seemed to get his wits about him. But he never stepped foot back on this island, sailing back to England a few weeks later when he was fit enough to travel. And since then the Thornhill Manor has been pretty much abandoned. There were a few instances of other Thornhills coming to claim the property in the last hundred years, adventurous and greedy souls, but there weren’t many, and none ever stayed long enough to renovate it. And the records show that there hasn’t been anyone here in the last fifty years. And when Peter Thornhill took over the estate recently, he sold the island to Lee Templeton.”
Nick stood behind one of the construction lights and grinned at them. “And here we are now, spending the night in the most haunted place in the world that no one’s ever heard of.”
Nigel clapped his hands slowly, his applause echoing in the murky outer edge of the group. “Bravo. Wonderful ghost story.”
“And after Mr. Templeton bought this island, he sent work crews down here to the island to begin renovations,” Shane said, eyeing Nick, prodding him to tell the rest of the story.
Nick nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”
“And there were accidents,” Shane said, letting his words hang in the air, waiting for Nick to expound.
“Yes.”
“Deaths?” Shane asked.
“No,” Nick answered quickly. “No deaths were reported. A man was cut with a power saw. He lost a few fingers. Another man slipped and fell down the stairs, broke his arm.”
Shane watched Nick. He could tell that the billionaire was lying, but he had no way to call him on it. He shifted his eyes to Kristen, watching her reaction as Nick explained the accidents. He wanted to see if she seemed surprised by his description of the accidents. But she remained impassive, just watching Nick as he talked. Either she didn’t know the truth and this was what Nick had told her, or she was hearing this for the first time.
Or she was in on the lie with him.
“Seems like a lot of blood on the floors for a few missing fingers,” Shane said.
Nick just shrugged, like he didn’t have an answer for that.
“You expect us to believe that entire work crews abandoned this place and left most of their tools behind just because a man lost a few fingers from a sawblade and another man fell down the stairs?”
Nick didn’t say anything for a moment, and Shane glanced around at the others, wondering if they were buying this story. Warren and Laura were leaning forward, waiting for Nick’s explanation. Even Nigel seemed interested to hear Nick’s thoughts about it.
“They saw things while they were here, didn’t they?” Shane asked.
“Yes,” Nick said.
“Did the construction crews stay here on this island overnight?” Warren asked. “Or were they ferried back and forth from the main island?”
“I’m not sure,” Nick answered. “That’s the truth. I only got so much information from Mr. Templeton. He said that many of the construction workers saw strange things while they were here. They complained that this manor, the entire island, was haunted.”
“What did they see?” Shane asked.
“Mr. Templeton was pretty vague about that. You have to understand that he’s not a man who believes in the supernatural. He just said that the workers complained this place was haunted.”
Nick took a breath. He was about to say something else, but he froze when a loud creaking noise sounded throughout the house, and then there was a cracking noise that sounded like wood snapping from somewhere upstairs.
They all jumped to their feet, looking up at the ceiling. A series of small quakes shook the house for a few seconds. The gigantic chandelier above them, a little farther down the dining hall, trembled from the tremors that had just rumbled through the house, the dirty pieces of crystal plinking against each other.
“That was another earthquake,” Kristen said in a low voice.
“The house is just settling,” Nick said.
They looked at Harold who had been lying on his sleeping bag farther away from the group, but he was now propped up on one elbow, staring up at the ceiling, watching the chandelier.
“What do you think?” Warren asked Harold.
He stared at the chandelier for a moment—it was almost still again. He looked at the others. “Like I said before, there seems to be some seismic activity here. I’m going to run some tests in the morning.”
“You’re sure this building is safe for us to spend the night in?” Shane asked, turning back to Nick.
“The reports from Templeton cleared this building for the work crews,” Nick told him.
“Yeah, you already told us that.” But Shane didn’t believe him.
Laura looked up at the ceiling, her breath caught in her throat.
Shane watched her. “What is it?”
A second later they heard footsteps from upstairs.
“You hear that?” Nick asked everyone in a whisper. “It sounds like footsteps, doesn’t it? Like someone’s walking around up there.”
Billy backed up a few steps away from the group, farther into the darkness. He aimed his camcorder up at the ceiling, filming it, the light from his camera shining up on the cracked plaster.
“It doesn’t sound like footsteps to me,” Nigel said, his voice much louder than Nick’s. “Sounds more like the creaks of an old house that’s settling. A possibly unsafe house, as Shane suggested.”
They waited a moment and the footsteps stopped. Everything was quiet for a moment.
“We should check it out,” Nick said with a grin. “That’s why we’re here.”
Shane was already on his feet, grabbing a handheld camera.
“Billy, check the footage on the laptops,” Nick told him.
Billy hurried over to the two tables and opened up both laptops, bringing them to life. He checked the footage from the three static cameras.
“See anything?” Nick asked.
Billy shook his head
no. “Everything seems okay. I backed the footage up five minutes. I can hear the creaking on the footage, but there’s nothing on film.” He bent a little lower, studying the screens and pushing some buttons. “Hmm.”
“What is it?” Nick asked him.
“It’s weird. There’s some kind of static on the footage. Like there’s some kind of interference.”
“How convenient,” Nigel said.
“We need to check it out,” Nick said. “We’ll split up into groups.”
“I think it would be better if we all stayed together in one group,” Shane said.
Nick seemed to bristle at Shane’s challenge to his suggestion. He seemed like he was going to argue with Shane about it, but then he gave in. “You’re the leader, Shane,” he said, his words clipped with anger. “That’s why I brought you here.”
Shane didn’t respond.
Nick picked up another handheld camera and turned it on, the light shining down onto the floor.
Shane handed the last camcorder to Warren.
“Everyone ready?” Nick asked, already heading for the archway that led out to the foyer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They hurried through the ballroom to the winding double set of stairs that led up to the second floor. The two sets of winding stairs reminded Kristen a little of a double helix ascending up into the gloom.
Before Kristen got to the stairs, she swore she saw something move out of the corner of her eye in the darkness at the far end of the ballroom. The flash of movement reminded her of when she and Shane were out on the patio an hour earlier, cleaning up the dishes in the water from the hand pump. She’d seen something out there in that darkness just beyond the iron fencing. Shane had asked her what she’d seen out there, but she hadn’t been entirely truthful with him. Maybe it was all of the research she’d done on this island and the manor, and all of the stories about the dead bodies buried all around this property that she’d read about that had put the images into her imagination, but she thought she’d seen a person out there beyond the iron fence in the darkness, somebody lumbering through the tall grass and brush like a zombie … like someone who had pulled themselves up from a shallow grave.
