“It wasn’t just one person, Sylvia. There are six.”
Just hearing the words was enough to send me back into shock as everything added up. Six arches, six voices in my head. It didn’t take a genius to know what was hidden beneath the concrete of the arches. My stomach knotted as the revelation sunk in. That room was created with a purpose in mind. Christine’s husband, Tom, was all but innocent and I knew he was the one behind it. The thing was now, proving it.
“Did they speak to you?” she asked, lifting my tea and pushing it into my hands. I took a sip of the liquid, felt it sting my tongue with a sharp taste and then slide down my throat, refreshing. I sighed.
“There weren’t words as such.” I shook my head. “I just felt this overwhelming sadness. They’re trapped in there, Sylvia. Those spirits were walled in the arches.”
She sat back and I watched as her face scrunched up. She was having a hard time with this one too. She had told me many stories of her past, of things she had seen and done and spirits she herself had encountered. I considered her to be an expert in her field and I was her student but it seemed she was not cold to the case of the pitiful.
“How do I do this? How do I tell Christine?” I asked, putting my cup on the table and pushing my hair back with my hands.
“That is something you have to work out.”
“Helpful.” I smarted.
“When working with people, we have to take individuality into account. You already have a relationship with Christine. Use it to the best of your advantage.”
I sighed. “I feel so lost. I offered to help her because I thought it would be easy. I thought I could get rid of the spirit and she would enjoy her house.”
“The world of spirits is never that simple and the veil is thin and stretched across the world. There will always be those that cross over, those that seek help and those that want to harm. We have to be able to distinguish between them at any given moment and be confident in our actions.”
I shook my head. “I’m never going to be as confident as you.”
“You will.” She smiled. “Give it time.”
“So where are we going again?” Olivia asked as I moved back and forth, packing a few things I might need—a hammer, a pickaxe that I still wasn’t sure was mine, and a camera for evidence. I also had a couple of shovels set aside too. Hell, I had never excavated anything other than a plant from a pot before. I had no idea what I was doing.
“Christine’s.”
“Because the cleansing didn’t work.”
“That and the fact that I’ve realised what’s going on.”
“Are you going to share?” She stopped me with her dead-ahead glare and pushed up her glasses.
I sighed heavily and sagged. “I think there are women behind those walls.”
She scrunched her face up, her nose wrinkling as her eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You do realise that what you saying sounds ludicrous.”
“I know. But it’s true.”
“And you know this how?”
I sighed again. “I spent some time with Sylvia this afternoon. She sat with me and I thought back and listened hard to what was in that room.”
“And the women spoke to you?” She was deadpan.
“Not exactly. I could hear them. I could feel them there. I’m sure of it, Olivia.”
“And when we go in there, guns blazing, pulling her house down, and there’s nothing behind the concrete, what are we going to tell Christine?”
“Sorry?”
Olivia shook her head. “I just think we have to be sure because—”
“I am sure.” I fixed her with my best serious stare. “I’m serious about this Olivia. You don’t have to come if—”
“Whoa! You’re not passing me off for this one. I’m in.”
“Then stop complaining and grab those tools.”
“And how, may I ask, are we getting there?”
“Chauffeur, of course.” I grinned and watched as Olivia rolled her eyes.
The drive up there was tense. I’d spoken to Christine earlier that evening and promised to come over with answers and a solution. I still had no idea how I was going to go about this. Telling someone your ex-husband had buried people in the cellar of your home was certainly not going to be an easy conversation to have. But of course, I had to have her on board before she would consent to it. Nobody in their right mind would let a relative stranger tear down the walls in their home—even if they were in the basement—unless there was a good reason. I thought mine was a particularly good reason but I had to convince her of that.
“We’re here,” Olivia announced as she drove up the gravel driveway. The house was lit up with outside spotlights that illuminated the visage. I sat up straight and swallowed the lump in my throat. I realised with a twinge of apprehension that I was worried what she was going to say or how she would react to me.
“Are you okay?” Olivia asked as she cut the engine. The vibration died beneath me and took away some of the comfort I was holding onto.
“Fine. Come on.” I shoved the door open and stepped out. Reaching into the backseat, I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. The last time we made this trip I was well stocked in cleaning supplies. This time I was packing weapons of different sizes.
“I’ll get the stuff from the boot.” Olivia made her way to the back of the car, popped the boot and reached in. She grabbed the tools that wouldn’t fit in the pack.
Standing together, we made our way toward the front door. The sticks of the larger tools clattered against one another as Olivia carried them and I shot her a look.
“What?” She shrugged.
“I just think maybe we can leave those out here until we tell her the story.”
“Good point.” She nodded, setting them against the wall as we reached the front door. “If we go barging in there with these she might think we’re weird.”
“Or that you’re going to knock her on the head and bury her body in the hopes that you’ll get the house.”
Olivia scowled. “Please. I’d have a much better method than that.”
I rapped on the door and danced on my feet as I stood beside Olivia waiting for it to be opened. A few seconds later Christine appeared looking flustered. Her eyes were rimmed with red and the worry lines on her forehead had grown overnight. “Thank you for coming,” she told us as she closed the door.
“That’s what I’m here for. I’m just hoping that this time I can really help.”
“Me too.” Laura appeared at the doorway, leaning on the frame. “Christine hasn’t slept and by default neither have I.”
As the four of us stood in the foyer together I realised that Laura was to Christine what Olivia was to me: an unforgivably rude best friend. I almost smiled as I thought of her as my sidekick and decided to keep that one to myself. I don’t think she’d be best pleased with the analogy.
“So tell me what’s happened,” I suggested as we stood there. The door to the basement just next to the stairs was firmly shut and I suspected probably locked too. People had this strange assumption that locking a door would provide extra protection. It could be true if the perpetrator was human but in this case it wouldn’t hurt.
“I went to bed not long after you guys left last night,” Christine started. “I fell asleep but I was woken an hour or so later by sounds of sobbing.”
“Like someone crying?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah. But like this person had reached the end of her tether kind of sobbing. It was dreadful. Then it started over sevenfold.”
“You mean sixfold,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?”
I took a deep breath. “You might want to sit down. You’re not going to like what I’ve got to say.”
Christine sunk onto the chair behind her without looking but I saw the smile on her face disappear, the mouth turning down in a frown. Beside her, Laura stood, arms crossed over he
r chest as if she was ready to battle.
“What is it?” Christine's words were small, almost a whisper. She was scared.
I sighed as I sat in front of her, my fingers entwined in my lap. I glanced at the floor and forced myself to look at her. This was harder than I thought. “The cleansing, as you know, didn't work. And I think I know why.”
“Tell me.”
I took a deep breath, glanced at Olivia who gave an almost imperceptible nod and then looked at my host again. Breaking the news that her ex-husband wasn't the man she thought was going to be hard and this was the worst-case scenario.
“Christine, I think the reason you feel such a negative energy here is because something is buried in the basement.”
Her brow furrowed. “Buried?”
I nodded. “Those arches set in concrete. I think that something, or several somethings, are buried behind them.”
“What?” Her hand went to her mouth and beside her I saw Laura move, her hand now thrust on her hip.
“Get to the point,” Laura barked.
I shot her a glare but said nothing. This was Christine's cross to bear and I didn't want to rush it. “Christine, I think there are women buried down there.”
Silence descended on the room. Christine stared at me, her jaw hanging open and beside her, Laura was quiet, no doubt processing my words. We all were. It had been a fleeting thought at first, something that I hadn't grasped fully myself. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was the truth.
“Women buried in the basement?” she repeated my words, her voice soft and her eyes full.
I nodded. “I can hear their voices, feel their pain. They're trapped. They need release.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Laura asked, anger spat in her words.
“I want to tear the concrete down.”
“Oh, you want to tear it down.” Laura laughed, high-pitched and giddy. “Why not? I mean pulling apart someone's home on a hunch is nothing. That's fine.”
“It's the only thing I can suggest. If I'm right—”
“Yes. If,” Laura snapped.
“Then it's the only way Christine will be free. The people need to be freed. They need to be able to be mourned.”
“That's the stupidest thing—”
“Do it.” It was Christine. Her voice was small but powerful. She knew what she wanted.
“What?” Laura's eyes snapped to her friend where she remained sitting on the couch, her arms folded across her chest. “You can't seriously think that tearing down a part of your house—”
“Laura,” Christine warned, finally snapping out of her daze. “This is my home. I'm the one who lives here and if I say do it, then she can do it. Okay?”
“Okay.” Laura murmured, backing down reluctantly.
Christine's eyes met mine. “Do you have what you need?”
“I think so.”
“Then do it.”
I gave the nod to Olivia who collected our tools from where they stood on the porch leaning against the wall. By the time we were all situated in the foyer, the grand staircase looming over us, the house didn't seem so grand. It felt close, oppressive. The souls of those women weighed down on me like a dead weight. I was ready to set them free, to give them the justice they needed.
Hoisting the tools over my shoulder, I waited while Christine opened the door, then I marched inside. I made my way down the steep steps and along the corridor. We formed a grim procession marching toward the fate ahead but I didn't register. All I could think about were those women.
We reached the door at the end of the corridor and the key was passed down. I pushed the key into the lock and turned it. I held my breath as the door swung open and I took in the room for the fourth time. For a moment I stood there, staring inside the room, at the sloped floor that led to a drain in the centre of the room, at the way the concrete looked fresh compared to the rest of the room. I wondered how I'd missed it before now. I could feel their pain wash over me as soon as I set foot over the threshold and a shudder rushed through me. I grasped my head as a dull pain raced through and I felt Olivia's hand on my shoulder, warm and comforting. I wanted to turn back, to get as far away from this room, with all its pain and suffering as I could, but I knew I couldn't. I had to face this. I had to set them free.
Setting the tools in the centre of the room, I turned to Christine who still lingered in the doorway. Her face was as pale as ivory and her eyes were red-rimmed. Whether it was lack of sleep or stress I couldn't say. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“What do you think?” Laura snapped from behind her. Her face in comparison was beetroot red and she held herself like she wanted to fight, to hurt someone.
“Laura!” Christine remonstrated her friend. “Peyton is here to help. Stop shouting.” Then she turned to me. “I don’t think I'm okay. If what you say is true then nothing will ever be okay, but I have to know.”
I nodded and picked up a pick axe. Looking at the six arches, I wondered where I should start, which I should free first.
Closing my eyes, I strained to tune into the misery that emanated from around me. It felt like wading through a swamp, but the longer I stayed the more I realised the longest suffering had been there for over a decade. Ten years of being trapped, of the family wondering and left without answers or closure. That was who I needed to start with.
My eyes flicked open and I found myself staring at the farthest arch from the door on the right. That's where I would start.
Taking a deep breath, I heaved the axe up behind my shoulder and with a grunt, brought it down on the concrete. It struck with a dull pang and the concrete chipped. I swung again and again, each time chunks of plaster falling off and crashing to the floor around my feet. I realised with a sickening thought that the drain was for their blood. No more blood would be spilled in here, just the confines they were bound with.
Behind the concrete, was a brick wall. I swung again and again until fragments of red brick were chipping and flying across the room. I heard Olivia take a step back but I didn't falter. I kept swinging. My arms began to ache. Sweat beaded across my forehead and trickled down my back, soaked into my hair and my clothes, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had to free her.
Again and again I swung, the blade of the axe hitting the brick. I swung again, the head of the pick axe lodging between a space in the bricks. I took in a deep breath, changed my stance and heaved. Bricks came raining down, hitting the floor. I jumped back as one bounced toward my feet and then veered off to the side. When I looked back up I realised there was a hole and it was big enough to look through.
Dropping the tool on the floor with a dull clatter, I reached into my pocket for a small pocket light. I flicked it on and took a step forward, holding it up toward the hole in the brick. Another step and I stumbled over something but I kept going. The hole got closer and closer and with it, the stench of decay.
Then I was on the hole. With a deep breath, I lifted the torch and shone it down into the darkness. Peering along the sight of the beam, the breath caught in my throat as it came into view. First the hair, patchy and ragged on a flaking scalp. On the right side of the head the bone had been smashed clean in. The remnants of blood remained as a rust stain but the woman had nothing left to bleed. My torch came to rest on her face, her mouth open in a scream of agony, eyes open without seeing. She was dead. She had been dead a long time and locked down there.
I felt my eyes sting and wiped them away without pause and then I felt this sigh of relief. It rushed through me like a tidal wave and goose bumps rose on every inch of my skin. Then it was gone and I knew that she was freed. Her spirit—whoever she was—had gone to a better place.
I turned to look at the three women staring at me and nodded. “We were right.”
After that, the whole house was like a crime lab. Police swarmed through the house. I saw florescent jackets and hats and plenty of crime tape. Though we were all seated in the living room, all I could hear wa
s the gentle hammering of the officers below, working on freeing each of the other bodies. After each one was pulled from their confines of a bricked-up tomb, I felt another sigh of relief. Once the sixth and final one had left, spirit ebbing into the vast space of the earth, I felt a sense of peace wash over me
An officer with a notebook approached us, clearing his throat and drawing all four gazes in the room. “Christine?”
“Yes.” She turned to him.
“We have uncovered the arches in the room in the basement. In total we have found the bodies of six women, all of whom seem to have been there for quite some time. We will need to speak to you about your husband,”
“Ex,” she cut in.
“Your ex-husband,” the officer corrected himself. “He is a suspect in this case. Can you tell me where I’ll find him?”
Christine reeled off the address in a shaking voice. Her face was pallid and waxy, her hands shook and her eyes were brimming with tears each time I looked at her. For her, the realisation she'd been living with a monster was more than enough for one night.
Both I and Olivia had already given a statement. How we came to know Christine, what our relationship was, why we were in the house. I'm not sure they believed us, but I was honest. There was no reason to lie about it. That thought alone made me smile. Just four months ago while I was in the madness, I was lying to everyone and myself about my abilities. I wanted to hide it from the world to stop everyone plastering me with a label. Now I found I didn't care.
It wasn't long before we were free to go. Christine and Laura walked us to the door.
“I don't know how I'll ever thank you,” Christine spoke, shaking her head.
“No need to thank me. I'm just glad to know we’ve done what we could to help those women.”
“I just wish I had known, had listened to those rumours.” Her lip quivered. “Tom was this monster when we began dating and he was doing this to women. To think that I married him.”
Reaching out with my hand, I rubbed her arm. “Don't blame yourself. Ever. This was not you.”
The Room of Arches Page 8