by J. S. Bailey
How much lower would they go before their strange guide brought them to their destination? Then another, crazier thought came to her: What if she’d died and this was her own version of hell?
Bobby’s jaw tightened. “We might not get another chance to talk. I mean, I haven’t had a premonition yet, but—” He broke off, his face flushing.
“What do you mean, premonition?”
“It’s nothing.” He winced. “Sorry.”
Perhaps the stress of their situation was taking its toll on him. It was certainly taking its toll on her.
Their guide brought them to a halt outside a carved mahogany door engraved with the number seven. Pewter sconces were mounted on each side at shoulder height, flickering away like the rest she’d seen. Adrian could imagine them continuing to fill this gray hallway with light for all of eternity, indifferent to the passage of time, until no one was left alive to observe them.
“We’re about to enter one of the special guest suites,” Vincent said in a soft tone. “It’s stocked with food and drink and all the comforts of home.”
“What’s the point of taking us here?” Bobby’s stocky friend asked, his muscular arms folded across his chest.
“I’m just following orders. If you need anything, feel free to ring the bell. You’ll find it just inside the door.” He opened the door to the suite, which was blacker than pitch inside until Vincent threw a switch and illuminated a lushly furnished room that was more reminiscent of the hotels she’d seen. Unlike the grays and blacks Adrian had expected, burgundy and gold comprised most of the colors therein.
“Are you going to lock us inside like you did in the other room?” Bobby asked, gaping at the small crystal chandelier hanging over the sitting area.
A suspicious glimmer entered the man’s eyes. Without a reply, Vincent glided back into the corridor like a shadow and closed the door.
Bobby’s friend let out a sigh through pursed lips. He held a hand out for Adrian to shake. “I might as well introduce myself, seeing as we’re all stuck here together. I’m Randy Bellison. Bobby and I met last week when he came in for an interview at the church where I worked.”
Adrian raised her eyebrows and glanced from Randy to Bobby, who’d finally torn his gaze from the elegant light fixture. “You’ve only known each other a week?”
“A lot’s happened since then. I’m sure Bobby could tell you a little bit about it if he wants to.”
But Bobby must not have been interested in talking, because instead of replying he went to the door and pulled it open. “It isn’t locked,” he said as a furrow formed in his brow. Then he straightened. “He’s trying to lead us into a trap. Or maybe he wants us to think it’s a trap so we stay here, where the real trap is.” Bobby peered up at the golden ceiling. “You think they’ve got cameras watching us?”
“Oh, I hope not.” Adrian wringed her hands together. Upon waking she’d been relieved to find she was no longer in the cement room with the cots and reeking pail, but that relief had fled the instant she realized she was still trapped. A prison was still a prison, even if it resembled a room in the Hilton. “I just don’t understand why that cop would have knocked me out and brought me here. You two were trying to get me out?”
Bobby nodded. “I got a, uh, tip that you were in a house behind the church. I tried to sneak in, but the dogs…never mind.”
It pained her to know he was keeping things from her, but she knew she deserved it. “Bobby, we need to be open with each other.”
The color rose in his face. “Why? Because you happened to give birth to me, or because we’re stuck in this place together and have no idea where we are?”
“She’s right, you know,” Randy said, giving the room a visual sweep. “Adrian, Bobby and I were attacked by dogs in the yard behind the house where you were kept. Viciously attacked, I might add. And when we woke up here, there wasn’t a scratch on either of us even though we’d practically been mauled.”
“That man said he’s a healer,” Adrian said, uncertain. “How long can we have been here for him to have completely healed us?”
Randy’s face darkened. “That’s what I’d like to find out. But anyway, the cop who hurt you must have dragged us along to punish us for trespassing.”
Adrian took in the plush burgundy sofas and armchairs and eyed the kitchenette off to the right. An unopened bottle of wine and a corkscrew sat on the marble countertop next to a trio of upside-down wine glasses. “Some punishment.” Her curiosity getting the better of her, she went to the stainless-steel refrigerator and found a meat and cheese tray stashed on one of the shelves inside.
If she knew with absolute certainty that the food didn’t contain drugs or poison, she would have dug right in. It had to be dinnertime by now—her hunger pangs confirmed that fact.
She returned her attention to the wine bottle. She hadn’t heard of the brand, but the year on the front said 1998.
Seventeen-year-old wine wasn’t likely to come cheap.
“What kind is it?” Randy asked.
Adrian read the label. “Pinot Noir.” Then, darkly, she said, “Do you want me to pour you a glass? They left one for each of us.”
Instead of replying, Randy’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Is there anything else on the label in a foreign language?”
She rotated the bottle and scanned the back label. “The whole thing looks French. Why?”
“Hand it to me.”
Adrian relinquished the bottle to Randy, whose eyes took on a haunted look as he scanned the label. “I can’t read it.”
“So what?” Bobby ran a hand over his short, dark hair and then froze. “Wait. You understand languages. That’s your gift.”
Randy nodded as he set the bottle down. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, appeared to strain for a moment, and then went over to the nearest sofa and put his head into his hands.
Bobby’s voice took on an agitated tone. “What’s the matter? Can’t you do it anymore?”
“No.”
“What would make your ability go away like that? You were just speaking Spanish in the car!”
“I don’t know.” Randy sat up straighter, his face white. “Have you had a single premonition since we woke up in this place?”
“No, but that might just mean we aren’t in any danger. Except the Vincent guy kind of has some invisible company.”
“Wanted or unwanted?”
“Definitely unwanted. I—I wish I could help him.”
Adrian felt as though she’d dropped into the middle of a conversation between two madmen. She was about to ask what in the world they were going on about when a soft sound issued from the hallway leading to other rooms in the suite.
Bobby’s eyes grew round. “Did you hear that?”
“Shh.” Randy rose from the couch and let his hands hang at his sides.
The suite became so quiet that Adrian could hear her pulse pounding away a frantic beat in her eardrums. Somewhere else in the hotel (was this a hotel?) a man was laughing, a distant object fell over with a thump, high-heeled footsteps echoed on a far-off floor, and from the back of the suite a young, female voice said, “Are you coming or not?”
A chill washed over her. The three of them goggled at each other before returning their attention to the hallway. Several more mahogany doors led off of it but the lighting was too dim back there for her to see into them.
Bobby nodded in response to something she hadn’t heard and said, “I’ll go back and see who’s there.” He picked up the wine bottle by its neck and held it like a club.
Smart kid.
BOBBY’S LEGS turned to rubber as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway, expecting bullets to tear out of the darkness. This could be the trap he’d imagined: because if something about this place had put a damper on his and Randy’s God-given abilities, he had no way of knowing what lay in wait for him until he laid his own eyes upon it.
He tightened his grip on the wine bottle.
Th
e hallway terminated at a door that had been left half an inch ajar. Faint light spilled around the edges and he caught a whiff of some scent he couldn’t place.
The Spirit said, Open the door. She will not hurt you.
He did as he was told, and the breath fled his lungs.
The room behind the door was furnished with a queen-sized bed and a nightstand on which glowed a peach-colored jar candle that sent shadows dancing across the tile floor. The deep blue bedclothes had been folded aside as if the room’s occupant had been about to retire for the night, but instead she sat at the foot of it eyeing Bobby with interest.
All intelligent speech left him so he just said, “Hi.”
The girl could have been no older than ten. She wore a green plaid skirt, a white polo, had her hair done in pigtails, and wasn’t in the least bit possessed, which was just about the only positive thing Bobby could have said about the situation that lay starkly before him.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you ready to begin?”
Bobby dumbly patted the wall for a switch, but when the light came on overhead it didn’t dispel any of the gloom that had settled upon his heart. The royal blue wallpaper didn’t help, either. “Begin?” he squeaked.
She shrugged her small shoulders. “If you’re not ready, take your time. I’ll be waiting.”
Bobby looked helplessly back at Randy standing in the doorway. Adrian stood behind him, looking anxious.
“Keep talking to her,” Randy whispered.
Even though Bobby had always felt he had the conversational skills of a socially-awkward amoeba, he said, “What’s your name?”
“Lily. Would you like to start?”
Bobby’s initial revulsion was instantly replaced by anger at whoever had put this girl here. “I’m not here to ‘start’ anything.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m stuck here just like you. I mean, I’d never set foot inside a brothel. At least not to do that. I—I have too much respect for people.” He was practically blubbering now, and while at one time this would have embarrassed him, he found he no longer cared. Hot tears filled his eyes as he thought of the things this child must have been through. “I guess nobody has any respect for you.”
All at once he saw himself as he’d once been: a frustrated eighteen-year-old who had left home in search of something better. He’d thought he was looking for a place where his music career could get off the ground, but in reality he must have been searching for something more.
That “more” sat at the foot of the bed in the form of a girl named Lily.
This is my purpose.
In spite of the heavy atmosphere, Bobby felt light inside. My purpose.
“This isn’t a brothel,” Lily said, breaking his train of thought.
“Then what is it?”
“Troy calls it the Domus. It’s where people’s dreams come true.”
Not that again. “So what’s your job here?”
Lily blinked. “Why don’t you know? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“I think somebody wanted to surprise me and my friends by putting us here. We don’t know anything.” Bobby set the bottle on the tile floor beside him and crossed his arms. Why would a bedroom have a tile floor, anyway? It made him think of a hospital.
“You don’t know,” Lily said, staring down at her bare feet. Bobby could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes as she tried to comprehend that simple fact.
I could use a little help here.
It came to him then. “Lily?” he said. “I want you to tell me what happened the last time someone came in here to—to visit you. What did that person do to you?”
She frowned. “The last time?”
“If you can remember.”
She appeared to strain as she called the memory forth. Maybe whoever was in charge here (Troy?) kept her doped up so she’d be more docile, and the drugs compromised her memory as a result.
Which might not necessarily be a bad thing.
She licked her lips. “The last time, a man cut my throat.”
“What?” Bobby said even though he’d heard quite clearly. Her throat showed no sign of recent injury.
“He did,” she insisted. “And it hurt so bad, but not for long because Vincent watches and comes to save me.”
Bobby swiveled his head toward the ceiling. In one corner a black speck indicated where a tiny camera had been installed.
Lily continued. “Some beat me up until I can’t move. Some do gross things and try to choke me. One time a man choked me so hard I couldn’t breathe at all and Vincent came in really angry and made him leave. When Vincent made me better he said that man would never be allowed to visit again.”
Adrian let out a sob and shouldered her way past Randy into the room. “Oh, honey, how long have you been here like this? We’ve got to get you out!”
Puzzlement entered Lily’s eyes. “Vincent’s my friend. He takes care of me and the others.”
“How many others?” When Lily didn’t respond, Adrian grabbed her by the shoulders. “How many?”
Randy gently pulled Adrian away from the child and knelt down at the foot of the bed. “There are other kids here like you,” he said. “Yes?”
A nod.
“Can you tell me their names?”
Another nod. “Ashlynn, Priscilla, Kay, Joan—Joan is older like Vincent—Martha, Ellie, Syd…” She rattled off another dozen or so names, several of them male. “And there was a Millicent, too, but she went away and never came back.”
Probably because some creep killed her, Bobby thought savagely. He was beginning to understand the purpose of this “Domus.” Children were kidnapped and brought here. Then people would come and let out their frustrations by torturing the kids in whatever way pleased them the most. Once they were finished, Vincent would come and put them right again so the kids would be healthy enough for the next customer.
He turned to the microscopic camera. “Is this what you wanted us to see?”
A laugh crackled through a hidden speaker. “How do you like this place, anyway? I’ll bet you never knew something like this existed right under everyone’s noses.”
Bobby would have known that voice anywhere: Jack Willard. “You lied to me,” he said, clenching his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palms. “You said you didn’t know where Adrian was.”
“You trust people too much. I’ve known where she was the whole time.”
“Where are we now?”
“I could tell you, but would it be the truth or a lie?”
“Bobby,” Randy whispered, “don’t engage him. Last week in the barn…” He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. “He’ll just twist your emotions into a knot and laugh while you squirm.”
“I didn’t know you could be so poetic,” Jack sneered.
Randy kept his eyes closed and made no reply.
Something clicked inside Bobby’s head. “You sent Thane after us.”
Jack paused. “What?”
“You know, that smiling demon who showed up in my kitchen acting like my best friend before terrorizing someone I know. I mean, you live in the company of a demon. You must have sent it after us.”
For the next fifteen seconds the speaker issued only silence. Then, “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you know that a demon is with you all the time? I can see its aura. It’s like a gray shadow.”
“Bobby, don’t,” Randy said as Adrian’s blue eyes grew round with disbelief.
“I know no one named Thane,” Jack said, his voice dangerously low. “Perhaps your demon is a freelancer.”
Bobby’s mind whirled. Here he thought he’d finally figured out where Thane came from, and now he was back to square one.
Jack’s voice jarred him back to the present. “You might consider cracking open the wine. My boss wants to see you.”
PHIL OFTEN carried a zippered tote bag with him containing various medical supplies inclu
ding a first-aid kit, a thermometer, a stethoscope, several over-the-counter medications, finger and arm splints, and a surgical needle and thread in case he ever needed to stitch anyone up on short notice.
If only the bag’s contents had the ability to mend their current situation. It was Phil’s fault that Bobby and Randy had vanished. He was the one who’d encouraged them to leave.
Allison and little Ashley emerged from the hallway, the former halting at the sight of everyone’s grim expressions. “What’s happened?”
“We don’t know where Randy and Bobby are,” Phil said, praying that his overly astute daughter wouldn’t become upset. She didn’t know Bobby well yet, but whenever Randy came to visit he would read her stories or tell her lame jokes that always made her giggle.
Allison lowered her voice. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I wish there was.”
Allison opened her mouth and hesitated. “I was going to take Ashley to the library before it closes, but I can stay here if you need me to.”
“We’re going to get the Boxcar Children!” Ashley piped up. “Mommy says they’re kids like me who solve mysteries.”
Phil forced a smile. “Go ahead and do that.” He lifted his gaze to Allison. “If anything else happens, I’ll call you.”
Allison gave him a tight squeeze. “Be careful.” Then, in a lower voice, she said, “I’m sure they’ll turn up. They can’t have gone far.”
When she and Ashley left, Phil, Frankie, Kevin, and the girls went into the solarium and closed the door. Phil clasped his shaking hands together in front of him. “We need to summon Thane.” As terrible as it sounded, it was the only course of action he could think of.
Frankie whirled to face him, just as Phil knew he would. “Might I ask why?”
“Carly says he knows everything, or at least he thinks he does. If that’s true, he can tell us where Bobby and Randy are.”
