by Nathan Roden
Bruiser shook his head.
“He…he didn’t come out, Ma’am.”
“Come out?” Arabella whimpered, “Come out of where?”
“The woods,” Dougie Day said. “He said it was the woods where she…near to where she died.”
“Where did you get those clothes?” Duncan asked.
“Prince said that we should fit in,” Bruiser said. “He took us to a huckleberry.”
“A haberdashery, maybe?” Duncan said.
“Enough nonsense!” Arabella said. “Where is my brother?”
“He thought we could get her from the woods,” Bruiser said. “He told me and Dougie to wait for him.”
“What made him think to do such a thing?” Arabella asked.
Bruiser shrugged, and said,
“He said he was gonna ask.”
“Ask who?” Arabella said.
“He didn’t say,” Bruiser said. “The horse came out a little later, draggin’ her lead. The Prince never came out. We looked for him all day.”
Arabella slipped to the ground without another word.
She was soon joined there by Elizabeth, Nora, and finally, Charlotte.
“What’s the matter?” I asked Holly. She looked down at her hand.
“Mr. McIntyre, Sir?” Holly said.
Dallas wiped his eyes and stood.
“Yes?”
“I think something…something very different may be in store, Baron.”
“What is that, Holly?”
Holly held up the back of her hand. Teardrops sparkled in the sun.
“These are yours.”
Forty-four
Charlotte McIntyre
Branson, Missouri
Honey and Charlotte hugged until Honey tossed her head again.
“I know what you need, Pretty Girl,” Charlotte said. She grabbed a hand full of mane and threw herself onto Honey’s back. The filly threw back her head and whinnied. Honey galloped away with Charlotte holding on for dear life—bouncing and laughing.
Honey slowed to a trot and then a leisurely walk as they reached the wood near the edge of the golf course.
“This has to be the infamous ‘Honey’,” a voice behind Charlotte said.
Charlotte pulled back on Honey’s mane until the horse stopped. Charlotte slid from her back.
“Mr. Larrimore,” she whispered.
“Holly will be so happy—”
Seth Larrimore shook his head.
“I’m not allowed, dear Charlotte,” he said. “Though it tears at my heart not being able to see her again. And my heart wasn’t the strongest part of me in the first place, ya know.”
Charlotte smiled.
“I’m only allowed to pass along a couple of messages, and then I have to go back.”
“Back where?” Charlotte asked.
“You’ll see, one day,” Seth said with a smile. “And it will be well worth the wait. You’re still able to write, are you not, Charlotte?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said, reaching into her pockets, but only producing her hair brush. “But I have nothing with me to write on or with.”
“Come right over here, lass,” Seth said. “There is a card and a pencil in the grass. A golfer must have dropped them.”
Charlotte wrote down the strange sequence of letters that Seth gave to her.
“You might want to pass this to someone else if you don’t want to tell your auntie Arabella yourself,” Seth said, somberly. “I’ve seen David. I’ve spoken to him.
“He’s passed over.”
Charlotte looked sad.
“But…why?” she said, her voice trembling.
“No, no, no, child,” Seth said. “It’s not a sad thing at all, you see. He was willing to give himself up to bring Honey back to you. And that was all it took for him.”
“I’ve but more thing to tell you before I go, Charlotte. They are not here.”
Seth began to fade away.
“They are not… here? What?” Charlotte said, but Seth merely waved as he faded completely from view.
Forty-five
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
This was the strangest experiment I had ever witnessed.
Holly moved her hand toward Nora’s shoulder. She jerked her hand back the same way that she had when she felt Dallas McIntyre’s shoulder beneath her hand. In other words—
She could touch Nora.
The same went for Duncan. I don’t know what that means, but it made me uneasy.
Holly walked toward Elizabeth, who was continuing to console Arabella.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
Duncan and Nora were holding hands.
Well, what do you think about that?
Quentin was watching Holly. Today he looked tired, and maybe a little older.
I stepped beside him and tugged on his sleeve. When he turned to look at me, he noticed Nora and Duncan.
“Did you see that coming, too?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t have that one.”
“A-ha!” I said. “So, you’re not a wizard.”
He shook his head.
“Just a poor sparrow rancher,” he said. “Okay, a rich sparrow rancher— with a castle full of ghosts. Or ghosts who are no longer transparent vapor. Did Holly tell you what is going on here?”
“I don’t think she knows either,” I said. “But she can touch them, and that’s never happened before.”
“How about you?” Q asked, “Can you touch them?”
“I don’t—” I stammered. “Why would I be able to?”
Q shrugged.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
I know exactly why the possibility had never occurred to me.
Because I was scared, that’s why.
“That’s really cool, you and Holly, Bro,” Duncan said. He was still holding Nora’s hand.
“Yes, Bro,” Nora said. “It is very, very cool—perhaps even cold.”
“We have some catching up to do, obviously,” Duncan said.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I think it’s kind of cute the way she said it.”
Duncan pushed against my shoulder.
I stumbled sideways. Duncan and I jumped at the same time.
“Hello? Wyles? Your car is outside—where you be, amigo?”
Nate rounded the corner. He was holding hands with Tooie.
“There you are,” Nate said. “Hey, we were on the way to Chili’s, and thought we would see if you and Holly wanted to come with.”
Nate had his hand in the launch position for one of our big handshake rituals.
I had a queasy feeling about it, but I didn’t know how to avoid the ritual.
We slapped right hands. Nate’s left hand still held Tooie’s right hand.
Tooie screamed and then fainted. Nate continued to hold her hand, which kept her from crashing to the floor.
Nate and I looked at each other for a second before Nate busted out laughing. He probably wondered why I didn’t join him.
“Hey, Nate. When did you start wearing glasses?” Duncan said.
“They wouldn’t let me have my driver’s license, Dunky—”
Nate screamed and fainted also. I still had his hand, so Duncan and I lowered him next to Tooie.
“That went well,” Duncan said.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Quentin, what are you supposed to do for people that faint?”
“I have no idea,” Quentin said. “I thought people only fainted on TV.”
“Holly!” Charlotte yelled from somewhere out of sight. She rounded a corner on Honey’s back at a full gallop.
“Holly!” she yelled again.
Holly ran to meet her. The rest of us followed, after making sure that Nate and Tooie were in comfortable positions.
Charlotte was dismounting when Holly threw her arms around her. They fell to their knees. They were both crying.
It was the hug
that had taken thirteen years to happen.
“Holly!” Charlotte said, “I spoke to your uncle! I spoke to Mr. Larrimore!”
Holly leaped to her feet and looked in the direction that Charlotte had come from.
“Is he…” Holly asked. “Was he behind you?”
“No, Holly,” Charlotte shook her head. “He had to leave. He’s crossed over.”
“Are you sure, Charlotte?” Holly moaned. “Why would he not….why would he not want to—”
“He wanted to see you, Holly,” Charlotte said. “More than anything in the world. But he wasn’t allowed.”
“Oh,” Holly said, her shoulders sagging.
“Arabella,” Charlotte said.
Arabella looked up.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Larrimore has seen David.”
Arabella ran to Charlotte and slid to a stop in front of her. She took Charlotte’s hands.
“He saw David? Where is he?”
“Mr. Larrimore said that David offered to give himself in exchange for Honey. And Honey came back to me.”
“But what of my brother?” Arabella moaned—her voice full of pain.
“A selfless act,” Quentin said.
“What?” Arabella said.
“Your brother offered himself for someone else. A selfless act,” Q said.
“His reason for not yet crossing over,” Duncan said. “It was fulfilled.”
Arabella choked back a sob. She put her hand to Charlotte’s cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you, Arabella,” Charlotte said. She threw her arms around Arabella’s neck.
“What is that, Charlotte?” Holly asked.
She saw the scorecard in Charlotte’s hand.
“This is the message that Mr. Larrimore had for you, Holly. I don’t know what it means.”
Holly took the card with trembling fingers.
“I can make no sense of this,” she said.
I motioned Quentin over.
“May I see it?” I asked.
I looked at the card as Quentin looked over my shoulder.
“It’s a web address,” Q said.
“Right,” I said.
“My office,” Q said as he broke into a run. I was right beside him.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”
We drummed our fingers on his desk waiting for the computer to boot up.
The address was a news website located in Edinburgh, Scotland.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“I guess we look through the news archives,” Q said.
We read through the first four entries. All we found out was the best way to secure a good seat for an upcoming parade and how to make a ‘World-Class’ cup of hot chocolate.
“Try the search function, Q— it’s in the upper corner,” I said.
“What do I search for?”
“Try ‘Larrimore’,” I said.
Nothing.
“Try ‘McFadden’,” I said.
“One result—Burglary Ring Busted in London,” Q read.
“Try that one,” I said.
By that time, the space behind Quentin’s desk was crowded. Everyone except Nate and Tooie had followed us in.
“….the ring targeted storage facilities known to have little or no electronic security. During a routine search, local authorities found documentation that piqued their curiosity.
“A receipt for the sale of a sailboat and trailer registered to a Mr. Oliver McFadden was found, with a date of March nineteen. This same boat was reportedly lost or destroyed on March nine of this year. On this same date, Mr. McFadden and his wife were presumed drowned at sea. A search for members of the McFadden family is underway.”
“Charlotte,” I said. “Did Mr. Larrimore say anything else?”
Charlotte shook her head momentarily, and then her mouth fell open.
“He said, ‘They are not here’.”
Quentin and I looked at each other, and then we turned to Holly and spoke at the same time—
“They’re alive, Holly.”
I hope that you have enjoyed the first book in the Wylie Westerhouse series. If you did, then please consider leaving an honest review at Amazon. The link to the book is here:
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A sneak peek at
The Dark Stage
Book Two of The Wylie Westerhouse Series
Two
Sebastian Wellmore
Wellmore Village, Scotland
Maggie Wellmore shook her head at the sign that read “Do NOT enter the Dungeon!” She opened the door to the basement carrying a floor lamp under one arm. She took one step before she threw the lamp and screamed. She waved her arms violently at the bloody skeleton that had dropped directly in front of her. Her backward fall was slowed by the tiny wire that entangled her arms.
“Sebastian!” she screamed.
Sebastian Wellmore strolled nonchalantly around the corner. He stopped and looked down at his mother.
“Mother, while I do understand that many of our guests may not be able to read or comprehend, I DO expect a little better from you. I see you’ve met Nigel.”
“Nigel,” Maggie said. “You’ve given your juvenile, fake skeleton friend a name. How quaint. Get this monstrosity off of me this instant!”
“Very well, Mother,” Sebastian said. “You ignore my sign and damage my prop, yet somehow this is my fault. When was the last time you did anything to increase the appeal of this dreary place?”
“Do you mean things like replacing lamps that no longer work, or having the entrance landscaped to properly welcome our guests?” Maggie asked. “We had a long history of tourism before you and your fancy suits and your shiny shoes and parlor tricks, young man! Just because I don’t dress up like you do—like I’m expecting the Queen.”
“Success is a subject to be studied, Mother Dear,” Sebastian said. “One must not dress as one is. One should dress for where they want to be. The tourist money has dwindled and people do not visit in the numbers that they once did. We are in no position to rest on past success. People were at one time willing to pay to stroll through an ancient structure like this one—but today one must provide an all-around experience; tantalize and excite! Generate the buzz that sends people out in the world to tell all they know of the terrors within the Castle Wellmore! We must adapt, or be swept aside to die.”
“Always the melodramatic one, Sebastian,” Maggie said. “Doom and gloom! We must change everything, or perish! You so remind me of your father, God rest his soul.”
“So you think that Father’s warnings were in vain, Mother? Father knew that the day would come when we would have to change with the times or suffer the consequences.”
Maggie Wellmore dismissed her son with the wave of a hand.
“Bah! If you had attempted to learn a thing or two from the McFadden girl while she was here, then we might have something to hang our hats on, foolish boy. She studied your father’s notes like she was on a mission, child. If only—”
“And your Auntie Mona would be your Uncle if she had a pair of—”
“Mind your tongue, Sebastian!” Maggie waggled her finger at her son.
“The girl was here for all of six weeks, Mother,” Sebastian said. “A hired hand, nonetheless? Six bloody weeks.”
“Six weeks during which our numbers increased most every day if you care to look it up, Mister,” Maggie said. “That girl is something special, mind you. And she didn’t need any of your bloody flyin’ skeletons to make that happen. She made the history come alive, she did. That’s what the people want—not your silly tricks.”
“Well, unless you have another McFadden girl in your pocket, Mother, the tricks are what we have left,” Sebastian said.
Maggie’s shoulders drooped.
“It would have been a gift from heaven, had she been able to stay,” she said.
“Heaven has better things to do than look after than a dirty old castle, that’s what Father said for the longest, Mother,” Sebastian said. “Heaven helps those—”
“That help themselves,” Maggie said. “Don’t quote your father to me, Sebastian. I didn’t like it when it came from him, and I don’t like it coming from you. What kind of heaven wants us to prosper by tricking the people with fake ghosts and goblins and spooks?”
“Puhlease, Mother!” Sebastian said, letting his head loll backward. “There is an entire industry devoted to people who beg to be frightened out of their wits! Books! Movies! Haunted houses! Halloween has become more popular than Christmas! Are you willing to ignore this to defend the precious history of this place? This is a fallen-down mass of stone, Mother! Half of our family’s wealth has been squandered on this wreck, and now Father is gone. We should raze this abomination to the ground and be done with it!”
