by Nathan Roden
There was more silence.
“Robert believes that he knows where Tara was staying, only a few days ago.”
“Where?”
“Wellmore Village,” Holly said.
“Well—Wellmore Village? Where that castle is? Where Sebastian Wellmore—?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man. Why would she—?”
“Tara was looking for me,” Holly said. “She may have found out that I was working for the Wellmores before I left the country.”
“This could be the perfect solution, Holly. Your uncle could bring in the army and blow that place off the face of the earth.”
“It’s not that simple. The army is looking for Tara, for their own reasons. And so is Scotland Yard.”
“That’s not a good thing?” I asked.
“They’re looking for her because they want to study her. They’ll turn her into the biggest lab experiment of the century. This is the very reason that my mother was so afraid when she found out about me. Tara…she attacked a full-grown man and nearly tore his arm off. She knocked out two policemen and blew out a wall and a barred window, Wyl—you just don’t understand.”
“Go home, Wylie,” she said quietly.
The line went dead.
I tried several times to call back, but the line rang once and disconnected.
“D-did I hear that right?” Duncan asked. “She’s in Wellmore Village? Where that crazy man lives?”
“Yeah.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m not going home.”
“We’re not talking about ghosts with bad attitudes, Wylie. You heard Bruiser and the others. These are demons! And that psycho man is trying to form an allegiance with them!”
“No one there knows me,” I said. “They hold tours at that castle, for heaven’s sake. I’ll go and take a tour and look the place over. There’s no danger in that.”
“I don’t like it,” Duncan said.
“I didn’t say that I was going to like it. But Holly won’t even tell me where she is. Maybe, if I take a look around the castle, she’ll take me seriously. She’ll know I’m not going to just run away.”
“That’s just great,” Duncan said. He switched to a mocking voice.
“Hi, my name is Wylie Westerhouse. I’m going to walk into a haunted castle full of demons from the fiery pits of hell! Please take me seriously!”
“Shut up, Duncan.”
“Why don’t you just pull her hair, or bring her a frog. You know, the things you’re supposed to do to show a girl that you like her!”
“I don’t know why I brought you,” I said.
“You didn’t bring me—I brought myself.”
“Well, are you going to bring yourself with me to the Wellmore Castle?”
That shut him up.
“You are talking about going in the daytime, right?”
“Yeah. Middle of the afternoon, in the bright sunshine. Maybe there will even be a girl scout troop there for a tour.”
“Now you’re just making fun of me,” he said.
“No!” I would never—!”
“Thin mints,” he said.
“Huh?”
“Thin mints,” Duncan said. “You brought up the girl scouts. Man, that’s one thing I really miss. Thin mints.”
“I’ll bet there are thin mints in heaven,” I said.
“Of course, there are,” Duncan said.
“Do you know that? For real?”
Duncan laughed.
“No. It’s just a hope. Like the hope that voluntarily walking into a nest of demons won’t keep me from getting to heaven.”
“Where the thin mints are,” I said.
“We can only hope.”
I called Quentin.
“Holly won’t tell me where she is. And apparently, she’s not letting her uncle talk to me, either.”
“Obviously, you didn’t tell your parents you were going to London,” Q said.
“What?”
“Your parents. They flew in right after you left.”
I blew out a long breath.
“Well, of course, they did. Can I talk to them?”
“They’re staying at the same resort as last time. They like that place.”
“Is Jessie still there?”
“Yes. I’ll go get her.”
“Woah, hang on a second, Q. I mean, one minute Jessie was with you in St. Louis, and then she was staying at your condo. Are you guys, you know—dating, and stuff? Is this serious?”
Q cleared his throat. He sounded a little uncomfortable.
“I can only speak for myself. But I think Jessie is wonderful.”
I laughed.
“Of course, she is. Jessie is the best. I could have told you that.”
“Do you have any objections?”
“Me? I’m thrilled. I’m also a little bit shocked. I just want to tell you this—Jessie got screwed over by her first husband. She’s not bitter, and she’s not desperate. She’s talented and self-sufficient and probably my favorite person in the whole-wide-world. Maybe you don’t think that it’s a big deal for someone to get on a plane, fly in for a concert, and then stay over for a long weekend. But I’m telling you, Q, Jessie doesn’t play. For her, this is a big deal.”
“I’m not playing either, Wylie.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “There’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You know about the brain tumor.”
“Yes, she told me all about it,” Q said. “She even told me that her surgeon asked her out.”
“This would have sounded a little more extreme a few months ago. Has Jessie mentioned her….abilities?”
“You mean psychic abilities?” Q said.
“Yeah. Those.”
“Yes. It came up.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll put her on,” Q said.
“Hi, Jessie.”
“Hello, Baby,” Jessie said. “It’s like Murphy’s Law, right? You’re in St. Louis, Patty and Johnny are in London. You come to Branson, and then go to London, and then Patty and Johnny come to Branson.”
“Yeah, like a game of cosmic Scrabble,” I said.
“Exactly. Well, I guess Quentin told you that they checked back into that resort. They’re probably celebrating their recent successes in the European markets. I bet they’re all snuggled up and pretending to be rabbits—”
“This is a little more than I need to know, Jessie.”
“Well, you know about me and my imagination.”
“It would appear that my parents are not the only ones with new ‘nocturnal activities’.”
“Do you disapprove?”
“Disapprove? Are you kidding? Two of my most-favoritest people getting together? I’m stoked.”
“If you’re stoked, then I’m stoked,” Jessie said. “Quentin is a wonderful man. And a nut. I’m partial to nuts. No offense.”
“Of course not. I’m the same way.”
Duncan and I took the train to Edinburgh the next morning. I didn’t bother with my full-blown disguise. No one gave me a second look. I kind of liked the way the glasses looked, so I wore those anyway. I had planned to take a best to Wellmore Village, but the last one of the day had already departed. The taxi ride was expensive, but there was no way around it.
When we got into the village, I ordered at a nearby cafe. I called the business office of Wellmore Castle. The early afternoon tours were sold out. That was a surprise. I bought one of the last tickets for the last tour of the day.
I checked into an Inn and walked around its perimeter, on the outside chance of running into Holly. I looked over the vehicles in the parking lot, looking for signs of a car that might belong to an army Major. No luck.
A taxi dropped me off at the castle, and I paid in advance to order a pickup for two hours later.
Right away, I noticed the reason for the popularity of Wellmore Castle’s tours. There were a lot of young peo
ple coming and going from the castle’s entrance. Many of those wore horror-type costumes: Vampires, werewolves, a mixture of Jasons and Freddies and Leatherfaces. Some of the costumes were elaborate and creative. One girl wore a long gown covered in seaweed. Her skin was a sickly blue and she had a hatchet buried in her head. Yes. Really.
I felt oddly at home. The feeling I had must be what it feels like to attend a horror convention. I determined to check one of those out when I got back to Branson. This was my kind of crowd.
Duncan and I walked halfway up the hill. Duncan stopped and looked into the woods.
“What is it?” I whispered, covering my mouth.
Duncan stared into the trees.
“I don’t know. Give me a second.”
Duncan disappeared into the trees and came back a few seconds later.
“I thought I saw someone walking around in there. I didn’t find anyone, but I did find a spot that looks like someone has made a little camp between two trees. There’s a blanket spread out, some water bottles, and a package of cookies.”
“Thin mints?”
Duncan smiled.
“No. Idiot.”
We stopped by the office, where I picked up my ticket. I fell into the back of the line.
I paid closer attention to the tour guide than the other tourists. That’s not so unusual—after all, I had an appreciation for the craft. I was a tour guide in my former life, you know.
The guide introduced herself as Abigail. And Abigail was good. A group of kids dressed as vampires were disrupting Abigail’s introduction. She called them out without missing a beat. She kept her eyes trained on the offenders as she introduced her companion for the tour—a mountain of a man named “Bruno”.
That was the name stitched on the back of his rugby jersey. His shoulders were so wide that he could have added his middle and last names.
Bruno looked as if he would do whatever might be necessary to keep Abigail happy. He scowled at the vampires. If I ever return to being a tour guide, I’m going to try to find myself a Bruno.
The great room of Wellmore Castle was a little smaller than the one at McIntyre Castle. I edged my way around the rear of the group. A doorway off of the great room was closed off with a red velvet rope.
I peeked my head through the doorway. I could see that it led to the kitchen. I knew from Bruiser Brady that the cellar door was at the rear of the kitchen. Leaning farther in, I could see that door.
I jumped when a chill hit me, from nowhere. I looked at the cellar door. I thought I saw it pulse—outward—against the jamb. It pulsed in, and out again—like it had a heartbeat. I blinked hard. I saw wisps of smoke coming from the door’s edges. At the top, the smoke grew darker. It went from white, to pink and to red. Was it liquid? I couldn’t tell. It ran down the face of the door—like blood.
I felt a tug on my sleeve. It was Duncan. The tour group was leaving us behind.
I heard girls screaming from the next room, followed by a roar of laughter. An “actor”, carrying his own head under his arm, appeared to be the cause of the commotion. The boy stepped backward through an adjoining door.
So, that’s what brings all the kid here, I thought.
The tour continued for the next forty-five minutes. Abigail provided a good mix of informative history and horror-based entertainment if you ask me. I’m sure that Holly would have hated it.
Abigail led us back to the great room. She told us that the last place we would visit was the ancient root cellar.
“Now, I’m certain that the question on everybody’s mind,” Abigail said. “Is ‘does the castle have a dungeon?’”
There were cheers, and whoops and hollers. Abigail held up her hands.
“Wait, wait, wait! Wellmore Castle does have a dungeon, but it is off-limits.”
The cheers turned to moans.
“The dungeon has irreparable water seepage issues. It is also home to a significant population of creepy-crawly things. Perhaps, this has happened for the best.”
Abigail’s voice grew quiet. The tour group strained to hear her.
“Tales are told, to this day, of the horrible atrocities that took place in the depths of this castle. Men of power carried out vigilante justice here—defying the laws of the land, and the decree of the King. This occurred daily, for as long as ten years. A revolution occurred among the local townspeople. They seized the castle and its owner, the Baron Alistair Wellmore.
“There was no trial for Baron Wellmore—and no mercy. The common folk of the village, brandishing only crude weapons, judged Wellmore guilty. They wasted no time. Baron Wellmore was publicly executed. Rumors continued to be whispered in those days—and for generations to follow. No one dared to speak the rumors out loud.
“It was said that Baron Alistair Wellmore had struck a deal with the Devil himself.”
The group no longer seemed disappointed that the dungeon was off-limits.
Duncan and I waited for the rest of the group to walk single-file into and out of the root cellar. Almost everyone who passed by made a comment to the person next to them.
“It is so cold in there! That place gives me the creeps! I felt like someone was watching me! Did you feel that?”
Abigail and Bruno stood on the steps just below the landing that led to the root cellar. Abigail smiled at me as I stepped onto the landing. I smiled back.
Duncan bumped into me and I fell headfirst toward Abigail. Her eyes opened wide as she threw out her hands and tried to catch me. I tumbled into her, and we both tumbled into Bruno. Abigail looked over my shoulder.
“Oh, God! Oh, my God! I’m sorry!” I heard Duncan say behind me. I turned around in time to see a panicked Duncan disappear through the wall.
Abigail and I regained our balance with Bruno’s help. I saw swirling wisps of smoke above our heads. Judging from the look on Abigail’s face, she could see them, too. I backed away from her as fast as I could. She reached for me and grabbed my arm.
“Are you with Tara?” she whispered.
I shook my head. Too hard, probably—like a crazy person.
“No. What are you talking about? No. I don’t know—I don’t know anyone from around here. I have to go. You were wonderful.”
I waved at Bruno and hurried toward the exit. I turned the corner at the kitchen door and slammed into a man’s chest.
For a moment, I thought he was one of the cast members. He had black, slicked-back hair and wore a dark suit. The collision knocked the breath out of me. I bent over at the waist, and I heard the man speak.
“Are you all right? Can you stand?”
I straightened up with some effort. The man I had run into, who was so concerned with my well-being, was standing much too close to me. There was a reason for that.
He held an automatic pistol against my ribs.
“Up the stairs,” Sebastian Wellmore whispered into my ear.
I had no choice. A few minutes later, I was tied up and gagged and seated on an uncomfortable chair inside of a dark closet.
“Oh, no!” I heard Duncan’s voice beside me. “Why—why is he doing this?”
I felt something touching me through the ropes. I think Duncan was trying to untie me, but he just didn’t have the necessary skills.
“I don’t know what to do, Wylie,” Duncan whispered. “I’m going to have to leave for now. I’ll go into the village and find Holly and her uncle. And Bruiser! If the army won’t take this punk out, then Bruiser will! Hang in there, Wylie.”
I nodded. That was all I could do.
Nod. And wait to die.
Thirty-Six
Holly McFadden
Wellmore Village, Scotland
Duncan hurried down the hill, away from Wellmore Castle. The tourists were gone. Duncan saw a single car in the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. Abigail, the tour guide, was getting ready to get in that car. Duncan was desperate to catch a ride into the village, and his last opportunity was slipping away.
“Who are you?
”
The voice startled him. It came from the trees. Duncan stopped and turned. He turned back just as Abigail’s car pulled away.
Duncan stood near the spot where he had seen the makeshift camp. He walked toward that place. He heard rustling in the leaves and tree limbs. A girl crashed through the brush—running away from him. She ran like she was running for her life.
What is she doing? Duncan thought. She talks to me, and now she acts like I’m chasing her with a chainsaw?
Duncan followed her. The girl reached a small clearing. She cried out and then crumpled to the ground. Duncan hurried to her. She lay on her side with her eyes wide open. She breathed heavily. She had a dart sticking out of her leg.
The girl’s lips moved and bits of sound escaped. Duncan leaned in close to her. He thought he made out a single word.
“Help.”
Duncan jumped when two hands reached past him and rolled the girl over on her back. A man wearing dark clothes laid down his rifle. He slipped off a backpack and opened it. The man wrapped heavy tape around the girl’s head, covering her mouth. He pulled a heavy canvas apparatus from the pack. It had an odd arrangement of belts, straps, and buckles. The man raised the unconscious girl into a seated position and leaned her against a tree.
Duncan figured out what the canvas thing was.
A straitjacket.
The man lifted the girl onto his shoulder and began to walk. Duncan followed him downhill, through the woods. The man struggled, and stopped twice, lowering the girl gently to the ground. Duncan noticed that the man winced. He favored one of his shoulders.
They reached the bottom of the hill. The man lowered the girl to the ground and stretched his lower back. He sat down, leaned against a tree trunk, and closed his eyes.
Duncan walked to the edge of the trees. He saw a car parked there; the rear of the car facing the woods.
The sky grew darker. When the sun had completely ducked behind the horizon, the man stood. He walked to the car and opened the back door. He picked up the girl and put her in the car. Duncan slipped into the back seat next to the girl as the man drove away.
