A Whispered Darkness

by Vanessa Barger

  Where I normally saw sparks of light and shadowy figures, the forms of the ghosts were much clearer. Five women paced and stormed around the rooms to my right. To my left, three men and Ernest pushed against their confines. In the middle room, a woman cowered, her form brighter and more solid.

  Haven’s mother.

  I moved to the door, struggling to cut out their curses and cries. The effort it took made my hands tremble and sweat to bead on my brow.

  I can block them, unlock the door, but I will not be able to leave here.

  The voice was deep and sad. I turned my head, my hands still jerked on the doorknob. The presence was familiar, and I blinked. Vale was not what I expected. He couldn’t have been Haven’s father. While they had similar features, this man was dressed in Victorian blacks.

  His great-grandfather. I’ve been looking after them, trying to prevent history from repeating itself. I was certain it would happen with my granddaughter. He nodded to the door. But it isn’t her at all.

  His dark eyes bore into mine, and nausea churned in my stomach. “Me?”

  I could be wrong. I have been, often, over the years. For your sake, I hope so.

  A burst of darkness blew through the house, and I almost fell to my knees. It felt like needles were being driven behind my eyes. “Help me, please. She’s almost back.”

  Vale dissolved into nothing, and I frowned. It seemed suddenly darker in here than it had before.

  Beneath my hand, the lock clicked, and the door gave in to my shove. Haven’s mother, disheveled and whimpering, rocked in the far corner of the room.

  “Mrs. Elliot?” I took slow, measured steps toward her. Up close, I saw her arm was cut and caked with dried blood and dirt.

  Her head turned toward me, and only a tiny flicker of recognition moved the madness in her gaze.

  “Please don’t hurt me.” Her voice not more than a broken whimper.

  I moved closer. “I wouldn’t. I want to get you out of here.”

  She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “God, there are so many voices. And Vale, he has stopped them, but he’s left me now.”

  Lightly, I touched her shoulder. It was like setting a match to gunpowder. She flung herself at me, screeching, pushed me to the side. I fell against the rickety cot, curling into a ball and bouncing to the floor.

  Haven’s mother fled, like the hounds of hell nipped at her heels. I wondered if they did. Pain radiated up my elbow where it cracked against the floor. I blinked back sudden tears, and in the instant between one breath and the next, Mom stood in the doorway.

  “Surprised to see me?” She shook her head. “There are more things about the supernatural than you will ever understand.”

  “What are you trying to accomplish with all this?” I asked. What do we have that you want so badly?”

  “Tsk. I’ve been around long enough to see this scenario on your modern television shows. I’m not reciting my plan while you wait for the cavalry. For you, there will be none.”

  I pulled my feet underneath me, crouched now, rather than sitting. “It doesn’t make sense. Why me? Why us?”

  She took another step in, and I lunged for the door. There should’ve been room for me to slide past, but I found myself flung against the doorframe. I slid down, my body aching where it hit the corner of the wood.

  “I know who you are.”

  Mom’s laugh was deeper than it should have been. “I’m not the villain in a fairy story, my dear. I do not break at the sound of my own name.”

  Dread mixed with the fear rising in my gut and I struggled to keep control of myself. Mom’s smile grew wider.

  “So much stronger than the others. You’ll do quite nicely.”

  With one foot, she shoved at me, and I rolled to my side. I tried to reach out and grab her, but my body didn’t respond like it should have. My limbs were heavy, weighed down as if several people held me back.

  “Something to leave you with, Claire Mallory,” Mom said as she stepped into the hall. “You know about ghosts and the dead. Have you ever wondered why psychics never linger behind as ghosts?”

  The door closed, and I struggled to sit up. The weight on my body increased, pushing me into the floor, slamming against the barriers in my mind. Each spirit picked at the barrier, trying their hardest to chip away at it. Tears streamed down my face as I fought the pain and poured all my energy into keeping them out.

  Until everything faded to black.

  ***

  “Finally, sleeping beauty awakes!”

  A thin, black-clad pre-teen with a faded purple dye job sat cross-legged near me. Sunlight streamed through the small dormer window, dust motes dancing in the beams.

  “What the hell happened?” I croaked. As I pushed myself upright, my head throbbed and I stifled a moan.

  “You got lucky. And your guards…” She whistled softly. “I’ve never seen anyone who could keep them up even when unconscious.”

  I blinked, then realized my vision wasn’t screwy. The other girl really was fuzzy around the edges, and in some spots her pale skin was transparent.

  “You’re one of them.” Instantly, I was on alert. “What do you want?”

  “First, I’m not one of those losers. I’m a free agent. As for what I want…” she trailed off. Her expression lost some of its attitude. She looked sad, young, and vulnerable. “I want to go home and take it all back. But that can’t happen now. What I need, you can’t give yet.”

  Something clicked in my head. The clothes, the speech, her age. “Melanie?”

  She examined her chipped nails and smirked. “Took you long enough.”

  “If I can’t give you what you want, why are you here?”

  “To help you.”

  Suspicion made me wary. No one in this place did anything without a reason. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t move on until some requirements are met. You are the only one who can fulfill those needs.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think, anyway.”

  “I can try to help. What are they?” The sunlight dimmed a bit, and I shivered. My hands rubbed at my temples, trying to ease the painful ache.

  Melanie tilted her head. “Not yet. Not until I’m sure. Otherwise I’m telling my plan to the enemy.”

  “I’m not your enemy.”

  She snorted. “That’s what the others say, but they ended up here, shadows of themselves, consumed and broken by their own darkness.”

  “Tell me, then. Why are they all here? Why show me what’s in the room downstairs?”

  “They’re here because they have to be. As for why show you, it’s kind of obvious. You need answers.”

  If she’d been corporeal, I’d have shaken her. “Now you’re being vague on purpose.”

  “You figured out who’s in possession of your mom. He’s holding us all here, and vice versa. He took our lives, and we’re making sure we keep him miserable with us. While he was here, he tried a lot of experiments.”

  I hadn’t realized it was possible for a ghost to pale, but Melanie did. “Some of the things aren’t pretty. I can’t get anyone to tell me what he wanted to accomplish. All I know is something went horribly wrong. Now they’re trapped here, and they think you’re their ticket to freedom.”

  “What about Haven’s mother?”

  Melanie flipped her hand. “They tried on her first, but she wasn’t strong enough. They wanted her to come back so they could absorb her into them. They don’t want to be alone. Being dead and a ghost is like being in the middle of a crowded room, screaming your head off, bleeding to death, and people just step over you. They want payback for years of being ignored in the flesh and after.”

  I pushed myself off the floor and onto the cot, doing my best not to think about what the dark stain in the middle could be. Cradling my head in my hands, I groaned. “What does this have to do with me and the parting comment about being psychic?”

  Melanie opened her mouth, and
then closed it. A low hiss started from the other side of the wall.

  “My time is about up. I can’t answer that, or they’re going to come after me.”

  “What exactly does a ghost have to fear from another ghost?”

  “Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Before I could comment, Melanie smirked and walked through the door. The whispers began again and I groaned, pushing against the noise. Taking the few steps to the door, I grabbed the handle and jerked on it. It didn’t even rattle. The door and knob might as well have been carved from a solid piece of marble. I couldn’t even keep hold of it long, the icy metal biting into my palm.

  I pounded on the door, but all I accomplished was bruising my hand. The window was tiny, and I headed there next. Outside, I noticed Mom’s car in the driveway. The sun hovered over the treetops, so I knew evening approached. As I watched, Haven emerged from the woods and disappeared under the porch awning below me. I strained to hear anything, but only the faint sound of a door closing below me indicated anything had happened. Haven emerged, his gaze trailed over the house. I pounded on the window, waving my arms and yelling.

  He didn’t notice.

  “Stop it.” Melanie poked her head through the wall next to me. “You’re only going to draw trouble for yourself. He can’t see you. Horace will make sure of that.”

  “If you aren’t going to help, then buzz off, Melanie.”

  She flipped me the bird and disappeared again.

  Haven turned and headed toward his house, his shoulders sagged. I leaned my forehead against the cold window glass, my breath fogging the panes. With one fingertip, I traced the word HELP. It faded before I’d even finished.

  I went back to my seat on the cot, massaging my temples. The voices were always there in the back of my mind, like cicadas buzzing in summer. If I focused, they grew loud and maddening. But if I turned my attention elsewhere, I could pretend they were white noise.

  Something poked the side of my leg and I shifted, pulling out the photos and letter. My cell phone fell out with them.

  “Dear God, why didn’t I think of that one sooner?” I muttered, pressing he power button.

  Nothing happened. I popped out the battery and replaced it, but still the screen stayed blank. I cursed and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. Of course the thing was dead. I was in the middle of ghost central, and things with batteries had a tendency to run dry when the paranormal was involved.

  I picked up the letter and unfolded it gently. The paper was soft, the creases floppy, like it had been opened and closed many times.

  Dear Margaret,

  I have no way to ever adequately express my dismay and apologize for what has happened. Had I been able to contact you or your family, I would have. Your brother will not allow me access even to send a letter to your parents explaining things. I fear I have only caused more damage.

  Be strong for me, and for the child. I will fight to free you from this mess as best I can, and as soon as I can. I miss you, and I know this will pass. Do not fear. It is the stress of the situation causing these strange dreams and visions. Do not allow them to make you believe you are something you are not.

  I will write again tomorrow, and every day after if I must.

  With love,

  Your Devoted Husband, Vale.

  “Sickeningly sweet, isn’t it?” Melanie popped up, perched behind me on the cot. “So glad I didn’t have to live back then.”

  A snide comment about being dead came to my lips, but I swallowed it back. No use provoking her. I needed an ally.

  “Why can’t I hear anything? Why can’t anyone hear me?”

  “Right now, all the attention is on you. Trying to make a point and all. Eventually, it’ll change. I’ll help you out as best I can, but we really need to hope someone knows you were here and will come hunting for you.”

  “Haven will.”

  Melanie made a face. “Future boy. Yeah. Probably. The way you two lock lips and make googly eyes at each other freaks me out, but it might be good for something after all.”

  I chose to ignore her.

  Melanie propped her head on one hand.

  A sudden, unrelated thought struck me, and I wanted to bang my head against the wall. If I couldn’t get answers to everything, there was one question I could find out the answer to.

  “Melanie, who killed you?”

  “Jesus, I thought you would never get around to asking.”

  “Well?”

  “It wasn’t Haven or Bryan. At least”—she shrugged—“Mostly not them.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Don’t worry about the details. All you need to know is that it was the thing inside this house.”

  “Horace? But how did your body get outside?”

  Her face scrunched into a sour expression. “I’m not sure. Dying is quite a shock, y’know. I wasn’t really all here until well after the body was found.” She paused, and I thought maybe she’d say more. Instead, she fiddled with one of her necklaces. “Have you ever noticed how the house sighs? There seems to be a lot of rage?”

  “Really? That’s what you want to talk about right now?”

  “Hey, I’m only pointing out that you might be missing a few things here. Like the fourth floor.”

  “There is no fourth floor.”

  “Sure there is. You just haven’t found it yet. And when you do”—her tone lost the mocking edge—“be sure of yourself. If you aren’t, it’ll be the last thing you remember before you really are driven mad.”

  “What’s up there? Why hide it?” I pointed at her. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you aren’t answering all my questions.”

  She pinched at the photo of Bryan, trying to grasp it though her fingers went straight through. “The answer is up there.”

  “Who is up there?”

  “Ah, grasshoppa, you now ask correct questions,” she said.

  I raised a brow.

  “She is up there. And don’t ask for her name, because I won’t say it. The moment you do, she’ll turn her attention to you, and no one wants that.” Her shoulders hunched, the terror evident in her eyes.

  “This place is a maze of riddles.”

  “You have no idea. There are things even I don’t know. No one will talk about it.”

  We sat in silence, and I reread the letter again, looked over the pictures. Melanie lounged against the other wall. I held up the picture of the woman and her brother.

  “If all of you are here, why did she get to move on?”

  “You assume she has.”

  “I haven’t sensed her.”

  “She’s stronger than the rest of us. If she doesn’t want you to know she’s here, you won’t.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want me to know she’s here?”

  Melanie shifted, her eyes darting around the room. “You’re starting to ask questions best left unanswered. I can’t tell you anything else.”

  “Why?”

  “You know those kids whose parents indulge them because they were an ‘oops’ or because they spend all their time at work?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m the ghostly equivalent. I wasn’t supposed to be the one to die, but I did, so I’m allowed more freedom. Like the ability to move between roo—”

  Between one breath and the next, Melanie winked out. I didn’t think she intended on it either. A spurt of worry surprised me. She rubbed me the wrong way, but I didn’t want her to end up suffering because of me. My earlier question came back to mind: if a ghost didn’t have to worry about dying again, what would be left to fear?

  Who was “she?” And what about this fourth floor? My mind whirled with questions. None of it made any sense, and yet I could almost see the connection if I focused hard. It was there, just out of reach. I let out a frustrated groan. Finding a way out needed to come first. Otherwise, the rest wouldn’t matt
er much anyway.

  I paced the room, measuring it in steps. Twelve across. Fourteen from door to window. One rusting cot with questionable mattress. A broken chair in the corner, and a cracked porcelain basin on an antique washstand with a huge mirror. I moved next to it, my fingers running over the rough, dingy porcelain. The mirror was cracked in one corner, scratched, and frosted by age.

  As I looked into it, something moved behind me. I whirled, but nothing met my gaze. The light from the window dimmed, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Of course. Everyone needs mood lighting when trapped in a haunted house by ghosts.”

  I turned back, and a weathered face stared back. I cried out and backed away. The face tilted, slowly, looking me over. The lips had been sewn shut, but the eyes were hard and bright.

  “What do you want?”

  The brows drew closer, and anger deepened the lines.

  Heat flushed my cheeks. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

  The voices in my head subsided a bit, and a rough, deep voice came to the front.

  You will give them what they want.

  “I hate to break this to you,” I said. “But I doubt that. It seems like you guys all want me dead, and I’m not ready to go yet.”

  Before it is over, you will. No one can hear you. No one will find you. You’re ours. At our mercy. We have none.

  “All the same, I’m not giving in because you say so.”

  Won’t matter. You’ll give. We all did, and you’re no better.

  I frowned, then braced myself, moving closer. “Not better, but definitely different. I’m not going to die here.”

  I grabbed the basin and swung into the mirror with all my strength, squeezing my eyes shut and turning away. The mirror cracked, and the basin shattered. I opened one eye. Now the angry face stared at me from a thousand shards of fissured glass, still held in the frame.

  “Damn. They don’t make mirrors like this anymore.”

  Without another word, the pressure built, and I ran for the cot, grabbed the mattress, and yanked it from the bed. The mirror shattered as if someone detonated a bomb from the other side. Shards sprayed the room, hitting the walls with dull thuds. I held the bed out in front of me, using it as a shield. Pain sliced across my exposed fingers, but the worst was caught in the material.