Beyond Sight (Coastview Prophecies Book 2)

by Simone Pond

  “I just did what you said and applied some basic quantum theory. Do you really want to know the specifics?”

  Sibyl laughed, standing up. “No, that’s fine. Obviously it worked.”

  “I got the location, too,” Marlo said.

  “Nice work!” Sibyl smiled, then looked at Eli. “In other good news, I can now see Marlo. The way I see you guys.”

  “We’re one big happy family,” Eli joked.

  Woof!

  “Just shift back so you can join the conversation,” Sibyl said.

  I walked around to the bushes where I had left my bag earlier. We were one step closer to stopping Whitmore. It was time to discuss the strategy.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Vago

  I shifted back into my human form and got dressed. Eli had expelled a good portion of energy taking down the pack of evil dog shifters, so once again he wasn’t able to heal my neck wound. Marlo cleaned the area with some hand sanitizer and put a couple band-aids over the stitches, which had miraculously stayed intact. We could deal with healing it later.

  The four of us walked across campus, chatting about safe topics like the weather and how we looked forward to the crispness of autumn. And whether or not I should drop English lit. Eli talked about needing to quit his job so he could focus on his studies and our extracurricular activities. Marlo groaned about how difficult it was to understand her quantum mechanics professor’s accent.

  Once we were safely situated inside Eli’s car, Marlo sang like a bird.

  “So, Whitmore’s secret book signing is at Rosestone Manor on the peninsula. Anyone ever been there?” she asked.

  Eli—not a native to the town of Coastview—shook his head. “I grew up in SoCal, so no.”

  “I used to go with my parents,” Sibyl said. “I say we go check it out. Come up with a game plan.”

  We all agreed.

  “But, don’t forget you still need to check out the gazebo,” Sibyl reminded me for the hundredth time.

  “Yep. Right after we go check out this creepy-sounding manor,” I said.

  Eli entered the location into his phone and backed out of the parking lot to begin our journey to Rosestone Manor.

  Driving north along the coast, the salty sea air drifted into the car. Nobody spoke much. A calm energy settled over each of us, giving us a break from all the running around the last couple days. The dog situation was getting out of hand, but we couldn’t let them stop us from what we were called to do. I hadn’t remembered ever visiting Rosestone Manor, but when we came around a wide curve and I saw the sinister gray stone manor perched at the end of the high rocky-edged peninsula, a string of memories came flooding back. A distinct smell of musty books hit me.

  “I remember lots of books …” I muttered in a half-daze. “Esther used to visit. She’d bring along some of her boys—in human form. I remember her shh-ing us while she combed through stacks of books, scribbling down notes. I don’t know why she brought us along because we always got bored and ended up sneaking around the place, exploring the hallways and hidden spots. There always seemed to be something lurking in the shadows, scaring the crap out of one of us …”

  Sibyl reclined in the seat with the window cracked a bit, so the wind blew her blond hair over the headrest. I could tell she was off in some distant memory; she closed her eyes when she went back in time.

  She sat up, her pale eyes ablaze. “I remember something.” She paused, rubbing her temples like she was trying to squeeze out a memory.

  “What is it?” Eli asked, glancing over.

  Sibyl continued slowly. “Something about one of the rooms … Damn! It’s right on the edge of my memory, but it keeps slipping away. I remember a red stanchion. The room was off-limits. But one afternoon when Mrs. Pearlman from the historical society cornered my parents, I tip-toed away and ventured back around. I ducked under the red rope and, well, I can’t remember anything else.”

  Marlo leaned forward, touching Sibyl’s shoulder. “Yes! I remember that room too. It was the ‘Collector’s Hall’ and no children were allowed near it. Those ladies of the historical society made sure of it. Did you get caught?”

  Sibyl inhaled deeply. “I don’t remember. I was too young to recall the details. But I do remember something about that room.”

  Eli slowed down as we approached the private drive that led to the manor. Giant rocks bordered the sides of the road and waves splashed up against their jagged points. It looked like we were driving off a plank to plunge to our watery deaths at the end. The parking lot was empty except for a cream-colored mint-condition Cadillac at least thirty years old.

  “Looks closed,” I said.

  “They probably don’t do tours during the week,” Marlo said.

  “What should we do?” I asked Sibyl.

  Sibyl finally came out of her daze. “Let’s go in. If we run into anyone, we can say we have a school assignment about the manor.”

  Eli pulled into the lot and parked near the exit with the car facing toward the narrow drive for a fast getaway. If another car came our way, it’d be a gnarly game of chicken.

  We crunched across the gravel toward the manor; all of us seemed to be walking in slow motion.

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous about scoping out this place after the near-death experience we had back at Whitmore’s office,” Eli said.

  I patted his shoulder for support. “Maybe ’cause it looks like it belongs to a vampire. I’m surprised there aren’t pale faces of ghost children staring out from the gabled windows.”

  We walked up the stone steps to the enormous wooden doors, which of course were locked.

  “Should we knock?” I asked.

  Sibyl gave Marlo a prodding grin. “How about you teleport inside and let us in?”

  “I have to go in by myself?” she asked. “Can’t I bring you all with me?”

  “Maybe for you teleporting doesn’t feel like your insides are exploding, but I don’t think I can go through that twice in one day. You’ll be alone for two seconds,” Sibyl said, laughing.

  Marlo sighed and a second later she morphed into a radiant glow of turquoise. Two seconds later the herculean door creaked open. She jumped at us from behind the heavy wood. “Boo!”

  I slapped at the air. “Dammit!”

  Eli jumped back and grabbed Sibyl, who laughed at both of us. “Really, guys? You just saw her go inside.”

  “Whatever, dude. This place gives me the creeps,” I said.

  Marlo chuckled. “Sorry. But everyone was so wound up.”

  Sibyl smiled. “It helped.”

  We joined Marlo in the foyer. The interior looked like a castle for royalty. Vaulted ceilings, antique furniture, and embroidered couches. Hundreds of paintings with heavy frames. Even with all the huge windows, it seemed like a shadow sat over the manor.

  “Okay,” Sibyl said. “You guys have to be my eyes.”

  “We’re in the foyer,” Marlo said. “To the left is the main library. To the right looks like the grand parlor. There’s a giant staircase straight ahead, flanked by a couple of long and very dark hallways. I’m assuming the office is somewhere on this floor. Where do you want to start?”

  Sibyl inhaled, looking at me. “Do you smell that?”

  “What?” Though I knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Brooke Thorne’s perfume. Coming from that direction.” She pointed toward the library.

  I shrugged. “I’m sure she’s helping with the event.”

  “Let’s start there,” Sibyl said, squinting at me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

  “You think maybe she’s working with Whitmore and not just for him?”

  “No way. She’s too nice. Besides, you’ve seen her spirit. If she were evil wouldn’t you have seen that?”

  Sibyl half-nodded. “Come on, let’s check it out before someone catches us snooping around.”

  Eli opened the double doors, and we stepped int
o the vast library. The sunlight gleaming in through the stained-glass windows gave the room a dreamlike vibe. Bookshelves started from the floor and reached to the vaulted ceilings high above. Ladders and balconies surrounded the perimeter of the room. The smell of musty and mildewed pages filled the air. Rows and rows of chairs had been set up, all facing a platform at the head of the room. This had to be private-event central.

  “Quite impressive,” Eli doted.

  “I wish I could see it,” Sibyl said.

  “Puts my grandma’s library to shame. That’s for sure.”

  Eli walked over to one of the shelves and scanned the titles. As if prodded by a ghost, one of the books dropped down from a higher shelf and clunked him on the head.

  “Damn!” Eli shouted.

  “What happened?” Sibyl asked.

  Marlo and I looked away, holding back our laughter. But it came out in stunted coughing sounds.

  Eli picked up the heavy tome from the floor. “Clearly, someone wants me to read this book …”

  “Someone fill me in on the room situation while Eli reads,” Sibyl said.

  “This is definitely where Whitmore is holding the event,” Marlo said. “Chairs, platform. But it doesn’t look like the type of place you’d murder a bunch of people.”

  Eli came over to us, carrying the book. “Interesting.”

  “What?” I asked, taking a peek at the sinister-looking thing. It looked like the type of book you’d see in a witch’s coven.

  “You ever hear of Hermes Trismegistus?”

  “Greek pagan writer or something …” Sibyl said.

  I had no clue what they were talking about.

  Marlo stepped forward. “He had thousands of writings. One of the most famous is the Hermetic Corpus.”

  I chuckled. “Oh, sure. The Hermetic Corpus.”

  Eli handed me the book. “It’s a bunch of sacred texts which make up the philosophy of Hermeticism. At its roots it was used as an attempt to synthesize Christianity with Greek philosophy.”

  I glanced through the pages at the drawings of wizards, astrological signs, suns, moons, and floating orbs.

  Eli flipped back to a page with an illustration of a sorcerer holding a globe. “Hermes Trismegistus represents the Greek gods Hermes and Thoth. These gods were called psychopomps, which means they guided souls to the afterlife.”

  I shut the book, not liking the eerie feeling creeping up my throat. “Sounds familiar. Kinda like the Guardians of the Rock guiding the wandering souls to the Holy Rock … only evil.”

  The sun beamed through the windows, making a halo over the whole room as though some supernatural force was guiding us.

  “The territory war suddenly makes a lot more sense,” Sibyl said.

  “I’m betting Abaddon promised Whitmore a high-level position in the hierarchy. Probably overseeing the herding of souls into the underworld.”

  Sibyl rested her hand on my shoulder. “Whitmore will never get that position. We will stop the blood sacrifice tomorrow night.”

  “So … any thoughts on how to do that?” Marlo asked.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Sibyl said. “But my first thought is having one of us attend the event, keep close to Whitmore, then we follow.”

  Marlo folded her arms across her chest. “Well, we know who drew the short straw … Obviously, Sibyl can’t go. And since it’s a female-only event, the guys can’t attend. Looks like it’ll be me.”

  “Sorry,” Sibyl said.

  “Good thing I’m feeling more confident about my powers. The second something freaks me out, I’m teleporting,” she said.

  “Of course!” Sibyl agreed, then looked over at me. “You said you used to roam around the halls, right? Tons of hiding places. Let’s find a place where we can hide out during the event, so Marlo knows we’re close by.”

  I glanced around the library. “Oh, I know! There’s a room behind one of these doors where they store books they no longer keep in the main library. We could hang out in there during the event.”

  We started jiggling the door knobs, but all of them were locked.

  “What about this one?” Sibyl called out from across the library.

  We went over to see. The door opened to a narrow corridor that was pitch black and slightly terrifying.

  “Not what I was talking about, but we might as well see where it goes,” I said.

  “You go first.” Marlo pushed me forward.

  “You’re the one who can teleport,” I said, shoving her.

  “You have super-human strength. And you can shift into a dog!” she argued.

  “How about Eli. He can call down lightning,” I suggested.

  Marlo and I elbowed Eli ahead of us. In the commotion, the heavy door slammed shut behind us.

  “Shit!” I yelled.

  “Is it locked?” Marlo asked.

  Eli was holding onto Sibyl’s arm and she was laughing. Darkness was nothing new to her.

  “You guys are the biggest supernatural wimps ever,” she said. “And no, it didn’t lock. We’re fine.”

  But the second she said those words, a flashlight shot around the corner and beamed directly into our eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sibyl

  In the hallway, a man’s gruff voice blared at us. “What are you kids doin’ in here?”

  Marlo grabbed my arm. “Shit!”

  “Sorry, sir,” Eli said. “We couldn’t find anyone up front so we thought we’d try to find someone.”

  “In a ‘no access’ zone?” said the man with a chuff.

  He didn’t sound angry, so I moved closer—the darkness of the hallway being irrelevant to me—and detected a sprinkling of light around the man. His spirit was a sea foam green like the water splashing upon the rocks of the peninsula I remembered as a child.

  “Hi,” I said. “We’re here for a school project.”

  “Sibyl Forsyth? Is that you?” He stepped closer, leaning down. “Well, I’ll be. Does your aunt know you’re sneakin’ around in the off-limit parts of the manor?”

  Who was this man and how did he know me? “I’m sorry?”

  “You don’t remember me, do ya? Stanley Chambers. Groundskeeper of Rosestone Manor. I remember you as a young pup. You liked to sneak around then too, now didn’t ya?” He chuckled.

  A memory flashed in fragments … Me ducking under a red rope and spying into glass showcases containing antique urns and other goblet-type pieces. A man with salt-and-pepper hair standing in my path with his dirt-stained hands on his hips, but a wide grin on his face. The two of us sitting at a table in a small room, me sipping a soda from a straw as I turned the pages of an antiquarian book of illustrations.

  “Oh, hi Mr. Chambers,” I said a bit sheepishly.

  “Why don’t we get out of this dark hallway and go see your aunt,” Mr. Chambers suggested.

  “My aunt?”

  “She’s in the office,” he explained. “Come on, I’ll take you there. You can explain to her what you’re up to.”

  “Great,” Vago mumbled under his breath, knowing a full-on inquisition would ensue.

  “Why is my aunt here?”

  “Big event tomorra night,” Chambers replied. “She’s in charge of gettin’ the place set up.”

  This was both good and bad. Now we had an inside track to the event, but that also meant my dear Aunt Ruthie would be in attendance at a blood sacrifice.

  As we followed Mr. Chambers down the hallway, Eli took my hand and whispered, “Is he … okay?”

  “I can see his spirit, if that’s what you mean,” I said, smiling. “He used to let me hang out with him while my parents roamed around the manor checking out things no child would appreciate. I’m more worried about having to deal with Aunt Ruthie.”

  Eli laughed. “Let me pour on the charm. She likes me.”

  “You got that right. You do the talking. I’m over lying to her anyway.”

  The jingle of Mr. Chambers’s ring of keys—probably the
same one from when I was a kid— echoed as he unlocked a door. He led us out into another part of the manor. I let the smells and sounds carry me back in time to what the place looked like. I remembered black-and-white checkered floors, lots of tall windows, and tons of bulky antiques. Even with all of the furniture, it never seemed to fill up the vastness of the place.

  “Here we go,” Chambers said, rapping on a door.

  “Come in!” Aunt Ruthie’s voice sang out.

  I braced myself and moved Eli ahead of the pack. We trailed behind Mr. Chambers and Eli into the stuffy, musty-smelling office. Aunt Ruthie’s pinkish lavender spirit was twinkling at a medium grade. Probably tired from over-extending herself for the book signing event.

  “Afternoon, Ruth,” Mr. Chambers said.

  The chair creaked as she jumped up, her spirit lighting up. “Well, what in heaven’s name?! What are you all doing here? I don’t remember you saying anything about coming to the manor, Sibyl. It’s a wonderful surprise, but I’m so busy. I really don’t have time to show you around. Just so much to do before tomorrow night. Oh, dear.”

  All of us took a collective inhale, fighting back her frenetic energy as it ricocheted all around us.

  “Found them wanderin’ about,” Mr. Chambers said. “Figured they were lookin’ for you.”

  Same old Mr. Chambers. Always looking out for me. Though I have no idea why. He didn’t really know me, and I hadn’t seen him since I was ten or eleven years old. Maybe he had a fondness for people who did things their own way. Or perhaps he longed to have a daughter of his own. But Stanley Chambers had no problem extending kindness, no matter how much time passed between our meetings.

  “Well, thanks for bringing them over, Stanley,” Aunt Ruthie said with a slight draw in her tone. Was she flirting?

  “No problem. Happy to help. Best be gettin’ back to work. Gotta finish up with the garden lights for the big event tomorra,” he said.

  Mr. Chambers slipped out of the office, leaving the four of us to explain what we were doing on the premises.

  “So, does anyone want to explain why you’re really here?” Aunt Ruthie asked in a more terse demeanor.