Shadows Wait
Page 30
“You still regret killing that little girl, don’t you?”
Lilly stopped in her tracks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Becca? She’s gone now of course, but she used to be here on occasion even when she haunted you. She spoke with me. She would come to this basement and flirt with the idea of being more wretched. More impure. But even her little heart couldn’t be as corrupted as I am.”
Lilly’s blood turned icy, her heartbeat seeming to thud to a slow pace. “Who are you?”
“I am only one of many. I lived here and I died here. And I want you.”
Lilly understood what she dealt with now. Not with a woman named Wilma, but with a something that possessed her body and perhaps her soul. “You cannot have me. And you cannot have Wilma.”
“I already have her.”
Lilly remembered a couple of choice words she’d heard Morgan use. “You bastard. Let her go.”
“She’s weak. For all her Bible reading and pretentiousness, she doesn’t understand that she cannot be saved from me.”
Lilly had felt this entity, or perhaps the “many” this thing referred to on more than one occasion. She’d survived twenty years within its presence. She could do so again. “Leave her be. Leave her alone and fight someone who isn’t afraid of you.”
Lilly knew she might be making a huge mistake, but if this creature—this whatever it was—had decided to destroy Wilma, Lilly must do whatever she could to stop it. “Take me instead.”
“So be it.” The voice went lower, the tone more male than female. “So be it.”
Lilly’s knees weakened as a hot blade seemed to stab her in the back. She cried out, tears scalding her eyes. Is this what Wilma had experienced before being taken over by whatever this thing was? Lilly didn’t think so. She would have heard the woman cry out. Lilly pushed back with her thoughts, with her love. She loved Morgan, God how she loved him. She wanted to see him again. To hold him in her arms and her body and know the blessings of their union.
Lilly screamed. “Get off me you bastard!”
The basement door slammed open and footsteps took the stairs at a plodding pace. Before she could think, a wild rush of air blew around her, swirling as it gathered strength. Lilly pressed her hand to the center of her chest and sought the warmth of the amulet. Closing her eyes, she imagined the warmth and protection of all that was good, drawing a white light around herself and hoping that it would shield her from whatever might come.
“Protect me, please,” Lilly murmured. “Shield me from this evil.”
Lilly opened her eyes. Not only white light surrounded her, but a host of solid bodies. Women stood around her in a shield, their forms dressed as they might have been on the last days of their lives. Some had dark hair, some light. Some were early twenties, a couple older. They formed a shield around her. She couldn’t see through them, but they didn’t seem quite substantial. Caught between amazement and hope, she couldn’t speak or move. Her breath came fast, her body poised for anything.
The door opened and Mrs. Angel stepped through. Lamplight shone through the doorway, sending bizarre, monstrous shadows spilling along the cell walls. “Who are these people? What—”
Perhaps the woman realized, in an instant, that the females surrounding Lilly were not of this world, because Mrs. Angel stopped. She held a pistol out in front of her. “Why you little bitch. What are these devils you’ve conjured?”
Lilly swallowed hard and found her fortitude. “Don’t you recognize them, Mrs. Angel? You helped bury them in this basement. They’ve come to take you with them.”
Mrs. Angel’s upper lip curled in a snarl of hatred. She took aim and fired.
Lilly dove to the side, half expecting to feel a hot burn of pain as a bullet tore through her. Another shot, and Mrs. Angel’s scream of frustration filled the cell. Lilly fell to her knees. The entities rushed Mrs. Angel. At the same time, Lilly heard another voice, this one male and hoarse with desperation.
“Lilly!”
Morgan. “In here!”
Catherine’s form appeared in the doorway first, then Morgan’s. He ran to Lilly and drew her to her feet. Without hesitation, he pulled her from the cell and surrounded her in his arms. Catherine joined in the fray as the women who surrounded the terrified Mrs. Angel swirled around and around her until they became a cyclone of white. Lilly couldn’t see Mrs. Angel anymore, but she could hear her screams as they rose in pitch—the frantic cries of the suffering and damned. When the cyclone disappeared, Mrs. Angel lay in the cell doorway in a fetal position, muttering incoherently to herself. The ghost women had gone, including Catherine. Lilly looked up at Morgan and saw trauma etched into his face. She knew that he’d seen the same thing she had, and that he’d never be the same.
He looked down at Lilly. Tears swam in his eyes. He cupped her face. “Did she hurt you?”
“Yes. But I’m all right now.”
A broken smile lit up his face for one moment. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she managed to say as the chills wracking her body started to subside.
Lilly saw movement at the top of the stairs as staff members started to pour down to help. The other cell doors in the basement unlatched with one clink and clang after another, and swung wide open. Wilma stepped out of her cell, her eyes wide. Morgan simply drew Lilly closer, as if he needed to protect her from a new threat.
“They’re free,” Lilly said.
“Who?” Morgan asked softly.
“The thirteen women who died, who are buried here. They are gone.”
Epilogue
Denver, Colorado
Brown Palace Hotel
Three weeks later
* * *
Lilly snuggled into Morgan’s arms and cherished the warmth. A glow surrounded them—or at least she imagined it did—as they lay in bed. The electric sconces nearby on the wall illuminated their room anytime they wished, and she found the dazzling array of amenities in this fine hotel amazing. After all, this was the big city and not Simple.
After the horrific events at the Healy mansion and Tranquil View Asylum, nothing would be the same again. The state of Colorado had started an investigation into the atrocities perpetuated by Morgan’s father and the murders committed by Patricia. Lilly, Morgan, Nurse Summit, and the rest of the asylum staff had learned they would be thoroughly questioned in the weeks to come. Staff that had assisted Superintendent Healy in burying the bodies in the basement would face charges. Everyone had endured an investigation by Sheriff Tanner and other state officials, but more would come.
Morgan’s contacts in the medical community promised to assist him with returning to the medical field. He would return to school soon, and before long he would call himself Morgan Healy, medical doctor. Morgan had withstood the questioning, prodding, and speculation with a forbearance that had impressed everyone. One thing Lilly knew for certain—if they could make certain they never had to return to Simple again, they wouldn’t. Morgan and Lilly had already started looking for a home of their own, and Morgan thought Cherry Creek might be an excellent area of Denver.
Oleta Franklin’s father had promised to help Lilly and Morgan any way that he could. She’d tried to give Oleta’s father the necklace, but he’d insisted Lilly keep it. Lilly wore it every day. Sometimes she felt Oleta’s presence, as if her dear friend came back to check on her once in a while. Lilly doubted she’d ever see Catherine or Becca again. That was all right. They were at rest now, and that’s all that mattered.
Her life was also embraced by good fortune since she’d come to Denver with Morgan. She’d found a new life, purpose, and happiness as his companion and his wife. She knew there would be more to learn and do in the years ahead, though it may take her some time to understand what those things might be.
“How is married life treating you, Mrs. Healy?” Morgan asked as he kissed her forehead. He trailed one palm down her naked hip, and she quivered with sensual delight. Nights in his
arms had given her hope and an ecstasy she couldn’t have imagined before Morgan Healy came into her life. She moaned softly as he turned her over on her back. He hovered over her, all strength, purpose, and handsomeness. She traced her fingers over his jaw, loving the sensation of stubble rough against her skin.
“Wonderful, Mr. Healy. How about you?”
“Better than I could have imagined.” A small frown caused creases between his eyebrows.
“Are you ever sad? So much has happened.”
His frown grew. “Yes.” He kissed her lips softly. “But you’ve helped me.” Pain echoed in his eyes. “I’m not sure if I could have done it without you. You’re the most wonderful woman in the world, Lilly. I don’t know how you’ve withstood everything we’ve had happen in a short time.”
“Because I have my strength, but I also have yours. Between us, we can stand strong. We can do anything.” When he stayed silent, she pressed onward. “Please don’t blame yourself, Morgan. I know you sometimes still do.”
He nodded. “Mostly when I remember that I didn’t listen to you when you tried to tell me about my family.”
She placed her fingers over his lips. “No. Why would you believe me? How could anyone have believed such a story?”
He pressed his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes. “Sometimes it’s too much to think about at one time. The ghosts, the way they attacked Mrs. Angel ... Wilma’s possession by an evil thing.”
“Do you think Mrs. Angel will ever recover?”
He shook his head. “Only time will tell.”
“I never thought she’d end up a patient at Tranquil View.” Lilly hadn’t thought of a lot of things. “At least Wilma is safe.”
“But back with her husband.”
Morgan chuckled and Lilly joined him. “I wonder if that’s better than the asylum.”
“At least she doesn’t think you need to repent anymore,” he said.
“I think maybe she believes I saved her life.”
“You did.”
“Catherine and the other women saved our lives.” She drew a line with her index finger along his hard bicep. “Do you think your mother will ever return to Simple?”
He made a soft sound of disbelief. “She’s better off staying with my Aunt Mary here in Denver.”
“I am worried, though.”
“About what?”
“The evil, at Tranquil View. Some of it is released. But I don’t think it is all gone.”
He sighed. “I know. We did what we could. We have to trust that whoever runs the asylum next will change the place for the better.”
“We can only hope, I suppose.”
He cupped her face, and the passionate message she saw in his eyes ignited a new fire inside her. “I love you, Lilly.”
He kissed her, and their passion started to brim. She moved against his hard, masculine strength and savored the beautiful warmth and promise. She’d learned his body over the weeks, and knew how and where and when to touch him to bring ecstasy. And he’d mapped her breasts, her waist and hips, and the soft aching flesh between her legs. Soon their passion soared, and the heat she’d felt with him before blossomed into unchartered, feral territory. They rolled along the bed, first him on top and then her. His cock eased between her legs. She gasped, rising up and down on him until the fire of his body stroking hers threatened to burst. With a swift movement he flipped her over, then urged her onto her knees.
With a swift, deep plunge he entered. She gasped, then groaned as her body responded with fiery need. Every movement of his body within hers was a spike of hot pleasure. He caressed her deep inside, again and again as she shoved back against him. Sounds came from her throat she’d never made before, and their breaths rasped together as they headed for the top. One stroke, then two, and her body erupted with deep, hot pulsations. He growled as he throbbed inside her and groaned his ecstasy.
As they sank into each other’s arms, he smiled. She would never need more than this ... this moment. She knew that she’d always be with him to erase whatever sorrow he might endure. And she knew he would always do the same for her. Love was with them now, and it would always be on the horizon. Her encounters with the ghosts in the basement, and with the evil in Tranquil View, had shown her how much strength she owned. She wouldn’t forget her twenty years there.
But now, like the ghosts in the basement, she was free.
About the Author
Denise A. Agnew is the author of over 65 novels. Denise has written paranormal, romantic comedy, contemporary, fantasy, historical, erotic romance, and romantic suspense. Archaeology and archery have crept into her work, and travels through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales have added to a lifetime of story ideas. She lives with her husband and a Mini Schnauzer. Denise is also a paranormal investigator, Reiki Master and Certified Creativity Coach.
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