by Alexie Aaron
Sally opened her eyes and saw a face at the window. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out. The face belonged to a farmer, or a woodsman, who took off his hat as he walked through the glass. He set his axe down as his features became less misty and more distinct. He stared at Sally with steely-gray eyes that seemed to twinkle as he looked at her. “Are you Sally Wright?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sally managed to squeak. “Who are you?”
“Stephen Murphy. Cid told Ethan you were here. I thought I would make sure you were alright.”
“Stephen Murphy as in Mr. Wonderful?” Sally asked, still pressed back into the chair as if she could escape through the fabric.
“I don’t know why Faye calls me that. I don’t think it’s meant to be a compliment.”
“I really don’t know Faye that well.”
“Cid and I watch movies together. We discuss life and are friends.”
“You’re that Stephen!” Sally realized. “Cid lives on your land.”
“I’m dead. I don’t own anything anymore. Cid and the Martins like to tell me they are but caretakers of my property.”
“That’s very interesting. It must be nice to have a place to call home.”
Murphy’s eyes softened. “Sometimes, home is a person.”
“My father used to say that when I complained that we were moving again. Would you like to sit down?”
Murphy smiled and sat on the edge of the chair beside her. “I don’t want to bother you. Ethan…”
“Who is Ethan?”
“He’s the boy who Mia is having stay at the farm, and he is taking care of the houses while Cid, the Martins, and Lazar are away.”
“You said he’s a boy?”
“Not a teen, but not yet a man.”
“Ah. A lot of boys that age enter the service thinking it will make them men.”
“I never served my country when I was alive. Dead, I’ve gone on many adventures and helped to save a lot of people and cross a lot of ghosts.”
“Why did you stay on Earth, instead of going to Heaven?”
“My heaven is my trees and…” His face clouded over, and his eyes were sad.
Sally sensed he didn’t want to continue, and she didn’t press. Instead, she said, “You should see the walnut trees that surround the house Cid is working on.”
“Tell me.”
Sally told Murphy not only about the trees but the ghosts and the situation with Kiki being possessed. “I thought she was going to choke Cid with the wire.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes. Fortunately, I hear that she’s not possessed anymore, but she can’t come back to the project because this elemental will possess her again.”
Murphy nodded. He wanted to tell Sally about him possessing Mia, but he was ashamed. “Can I have Ethan bring you anything?” he asked standing up.
“No, I’m fine. I’d like to see your farm before I leave here.”
“I will be happy to show you,” Murphy said. He put his hat back on his head and picked up his axe. “Goodbye, Sally. It has been a pleasure talking to you.”
“Goodbye, Stephen Murphy,” Sally said as the ghost walked through the glass and disappeared into the night.
Sally got up and walked over to where she had her phone charging. She texted Cid.
I just met Stephen Murphy.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call from Cid.
“Is he still there?” Cid asked.
“No. He said he was making sure I was alright.”
“Are you?”
“I feel safe, but I’m missing you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Carl is on his way back.”
“I’ll wait up and fix him something to eat.”
“How are things down there?”
“We found out the hard way that the foundation leaks. The salt dissolved and set free the ghosts. We had to rescue Gary and Wayne.” Cid went on to tell her the whole story.
“Jesse arrived in nothing but a towel?” Sally asked, unable to wrap her mind around it.
“Yes. I think he would have arrived naked if there was no towel.”
“He really feels comfortable in his own skin, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. I believe he’s always been happy with who he is. How long can you talk?” Cid asked.
Sally looked at the time. “They ask that we stop having visitors and phone calls after eight, unless it’s an emergency.”
“I won’t keep you long, but I’m hesitant to hang up.”
“Me too. Tell me about Stephen Murphy.”
“You’re not falling in love with Mr. Wonderful, are you?” Cid asked.
“No. I’m just curious.”
“I don’t want to betray any confidences, but I can tell you that he was killed by his wife’s evil lover. A tree fell on him. He died with his axe in his hand. As a ghost, he’d been caring for his farm for years before a teenage girl befriended him. She could see ghosts since she was born. They grew close and are still close. It’s a very unusual friendship.”
“She’s the reason he stays.”
“Not the only reason. He really loves his trees. He decided he’d replant the trees he took down when he farmed his land. He nurtures the trees and fights a war with the deer every winter. They find the tender saplings very delicious.”
“Oh my. But he stays for her, doesn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“It’s Mia, isn’t it,” Sally grasped.
“Mia wants a normal life, a husband, and a family, but she also needs her friend Murphy. He’s been a good friend to me.”
“It all makes sense now. I was being checked out. I hope I passed.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“He’s rather handsome, in a dusty way,” Sally said.
“He’s dead. And I’m very much alive,” Cid reminded her.
“Yes you are.”
A tone sounded in the hall. “I think it’s time to put away my phone,” Sally said. “I love you, Cid.”
“I love you, Sally. Sweet dreams.”
“Bye,” she said and hung up. Sally put the phone back on the charger and turned on the light over the small desk. She pulled out her journal and started writing. She laughed when she looked at the little heart she used instead of a dot over the I in Cid.
Chapter Eighteen
Daniel’s story continued.
It took me days, maybe weeks, to recover. Until I found where they hid my body, I had no energy with which to exist. Jon’s body was left to rot under the eaves. His bones are still there under the cedar boards. My bones, minus the meat which they stuffed into their unholy boxes, lie under the last step of the circular stairs. Jon’s heart is in the north box. My lungs are in the south box, and I can only assume that the missing acolytes’ organs, yet to be determined, are in the east and west boxes. We sit together and try to guess why they needed Jon’s heart and my lungs? Black magic is a terrible thing. It stopped the light from coming for us. We sinners never got a chance to repent.
The black as pitch ghost used to just feed on the souls of the Italian workers, but as time moved on, he started feeding on Jon and me. We make it hard on him. We hide and fight him. This drains his energy. We do it so he never becomes too powerful.
We have seen him leave, but he returns. The house holds his energy, and he cannot exist without it. A prison of his own making. He could have said no. But he chose to feed upon my soul. He could have done the right thing and gone to Hell, where he belongs.
I write this with the hope that you, the reader, will find a way to set Jon and I free and to warn you to stay out of the shadows lest the creature takes over you. One more thing. If you die inside this horrible house, you will stay here for an eternity. You will be fed on by the Atwater who was bested by his relative. The other Atwater rarely comes here anymore. When he does come, it’s to make sure his prisoner is suffering and
the mansion is intact. I saw Miss Gee once from the window. I asked her, “Why have you done this to me?” She shook her head and said, “You’d have to understand what love is, and when you do, you’ll realize that you’d do anything for the one you love.”
Daniel Sullivan of County Kerry
Cid closed the book. He wanted to speak with Daniel but knew it was too dangerous until daylight. Instead, Cid wrote down his questions. He also penned a summary of the story he would later type into an email for Father Santos, Father Simon, Kiki, and Alan.
~
The aroma of freshly baked breads and deep-dish pizza enveloped Carl as he walked into the carriage house. He followed his nose into the kitchen to see Cid pull an entire pepperoni deep-dish pizza out of the oven.
“What spectacular timing!” Carl said.
“Sally gave me a heads-up to when you left,” Cid admitted.
“You didn’t need to stay up, but I’m glad you did,” Carl said, accepting the beer Cid handed him.
“How was the drive?”
“Quiet on the way up and quieter on the way back,” Carl said. “The girl’s got a lot on her mind. Thank you for getting her into this facility. Mrs. Leighton gave me a tour of the place. I feel confident Sally will be very comfortable and well looked after.”
“If it is alright, I’ll let Audrey know she’s there. Audrey lives a few mansions down from the facility.”
“I’m surprised that the rich allowed their summer playground to be rezoned for a rehab facility.”
“It’s a case of who you know. And at the time, we had a guy who could push anything through. It’s all about favors.”
“Then you owe Mrs. Leighton a favor.”
“Yes.”
“It should be my favor.”
“No. Sally is my friend. My favor.”
Carl looked at Cid. “You know we could go round and round for hours.”
“Yes, but I have the stamina of a bird flying south for the winter. I will wear you out.”
Carl laughed.
Cid caught Carl up on all he had missed.
“Have you finished Daniel Sullivan’s account?”
“I have.” Cid gave Carl a quick summary of Daniel’s memoir.
“We have to free Jon and Daniel,” Carl said.
“We’re not supposed to mess with the ghosts.”
“Not until we get paid. I’m game if you want to come back after,” Carl said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
~
Faye moved quickly through the house switching off lights. She managed to avoid the crazy ghosts. They seemed to be content just to stand and look out the west windows at the town across the frozen lake. She found Jon and Daniel in the nursery. “Cid’s finished reading your book,” Faye told Daniel.
“I hope he found it beneficial,” Daniel said.
“He and Sally commented about what a fine writer you are,” Faye said. “He’s appalled by what happened to the two of you. He is furthering the information to a very smart priest. If a solution is to be found, this priest will find it.”
“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” Blue Daniel said. “I’m going to go and eavesdrop on the Italians.”
Jon smiled. “He’s giving us privacy.”
Faye blushed.
“If we were alive, I’d ask you to walk out with me, Faye.”
“And I would have been honored to do so.”
“All I can offer you is a story or two,” Jon said.
“You’re a very fine storyteller. I enjoy being here with you,” Faye said shyly.
It was Jon’s turn to blush.
“I enjoy hearing about your life in Ireland.”
“I enjoy hearing about your existence after Cid gave your emerald to the thief. I find it amusing that you didn’t think Cid, who took your pin from the well, was the thief but the woman who was keeping it safe was.”
Faye laughed at herself. “Neither of them was. But I’m a stubborn ghost.”
“I find you delightful. Let me see if I have a story about thieving… I remember my best pal Colm who tempted me to steal a sweetie from Sweeny’s Shop. He said that he would distract Old Man Sweeny, and I was to take a twisty – these were twisted pieces of hard candy mounted on a stick, similar to the suckers they have here. But in my day, nothing was wrapped. They were just stuck in a jar on the counter. I remember they were red and green or green and white, depending on Sweeny’s mood when he made them.
“I was so nervous. When I was alive and I got nervous, my hands sweated, and by the time we reached the store, I was positively dripping. Sweeny was a big fella and was known to break some bones in fights. I could only imagine what he would do to me if he caught me stealing from him. But a dare was a dare. Colm walked over to the glass case that held the chocolates and asked Sweeny about what was in each one of them, buying me time. I reached my hand up, laying it over the twisties, and at that moment, I fought a war of conscience. I decided that no dare was worth being manhandled by Sweeny. I withdrew my hand, but all the twisties came with me. They were stuck to my sweaty hand.
“I tried to get them off. My other hand was sweaty, so I just transferred the sweets from hand to hand. I even tried sticking my hands under my arms to pull the damn candy off. But, Fair Faye, if you’re a boy with sweaty hands, your body is sweaty too. Colm figured that enough time had passed and turned around to leave, and he stopped dead. There I was, standing with sweeties stuck to my hands and armpits. My face and hair were covered in twisties too. Sweeny bellowed, ‘What in Christ are you about, boy!’”
“All I could manage was, ‘A little help here, I’ve been attacked by your vicious treats.’ Sweeny’s stern look vanished and he started laughing. Colm laughed too. I just waved my arms around, sweets and sticks stuck to me like feathers.”
Faye laughed along with Jon.
“That cured me of my thieving ways. Until the day I left for America, Sweeny would call out when he saw me, ‘There goes that twisty boy!’”
Blue Daniel popped into the room. “We need to move higher. The Italians are coming up the stairs.”
“They never come up the stairs,” Jon said drifting upwards, pulling Faye along with him.
“They were afraid of Atwater. He’s locked in the safe. They aren’t afraid anymore,” Blue Daniel said as he moved up with them. They found themselves in the old servants’ quarters. The high windows let in a little moonlight, but they kept to the shadows.
“Faye, you’re going to have to warn your builders,” Jon said.
“No,” Blue Daniel said. “Our builders.”
“How crazy are they?” Faye asked.
“They tried to kill…”
“Tried or did?” Faye asked.
“Tried.”
“Can you interpret?”
“Between Daniel and me we can understand them.”
“Let them talk to Cid,” Faye said. “I’ll bring him right away.”
Faye appeared in front of Cid as he was exiting the carriage house.
“Faye! You gave me a scare.”
“You’re needed at the house. You need to talk to the crazy ones. You have a way with words.”
Jesse walked out of the darkness and said, “Not without me.”
“They could kill us,” Cid warned.
“They could have killed us all along. They just enjoyed scaring us,” Jesse said. “I know bullies when I see them.”
Cid and Jesse walked to the house. Faye disappeared and reappeared at the front door. Jon and Blue Daniel stood at her side.
“I have an idea,” Cid said. “Follow my lead.” Cid walked from the hall into the main living room and patted the carved white marble fireplace surround. “Excuse me, I would like to speak with the artist who carved this magnificent fireplace.”
Jon repeated Cid’s words.
A large burly ghost appeared next to the fireplace.
“
Complimenti per il lavoro svolto,” Cid said in Italian, surprising Jesse and Faye.
Jon whispered to Faye, “He said congratulations on a job well done.”
“Come?”
“He asked, how?” Jon continued to translate. “I thought you needed us to help him.”
Faye hunched her shoulders. “He must have studied up. He is a genius, probably picked most of it up on the internet.”
The workman explained his technique to Cid using many hand gestures.
“Tu chi sei?”
“Salvatore Piccirilli.”
“Piccirilli? Lo sai Giuseppe Piccirilli?”
“Mio Cugino.”
Cid turned to the others and said, “His cousin was Giuseppe Piccirilli. Giuseppe had six sons. His sons are renowned stone carvers who immigrated to New York in the late 1800s.”
“Guiseppe, mio cugino. Ferruccio, Attilio, Furio, Masaniello, Orazio, e Getulio, mio secondo cugini.”
Jon translated, “Guiseppe is Salvatore’s first cousin. His sons are his second cousins.”
Salvatore put a hand on his head and waved his hand back and forth and said something to Cid.
“He said his soul is in his work. The house, however, is making him crazy. He knows he’s dead, but he needs to breathe fresh air,” Cid said.
“Tell him we’ll find a way to release him and his brethren from this house,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry, money or no money, this isn’t right.”
“Where is monster?” Salvatore asked in stilted English.
“Locked away in the safe,” Jesse said.
Jon translated.
Salvatore fired off an explanation which took Cid, Jon and Blue Daniel to translate.
“Basically, he said that the elemental promised that if they killed the men working on the house, they would be released. They tried, but they are not killers. The elemental, however, is a killer,” Cid told Faye and Jesse.
Salvatore pointed to either side of his head and shook it, saying, “Pazzo.”