Walnut Grove House

by Alexie Aaron

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Father Santos looked at the transparent men who stood above their graves. He could see the crosses they wore. Some were tucked under roughhewn shirts, others were displayed proudly on their chests.

  “They died in their sleep,” Cid reminded Father Santos. “They woke into a nightmare. They spent days watching their bodies bloat on the cellar floor. Proud professional artisans reduced to this. No promised light, no salvation, and no last rites.”

  “I can give them last rites,” Father Santos said. “But until we can unblock this house, the light isn’t coming for them.”

  “We originally thought that the floor kept them here in the basement. We were wrong. It was the fear and pain of their essence being digested over and over again.”

  “No wonder some of them lost their faith,” Father Simon said.

  “Faith and hope are the only things that keep a person sane, Padre,” Jon said from behind them.

  Father Santos looked up to see the lean Irishman staring down at them from the stairway.

  “You must be Jon O’Connor,” Santos said.

  “That I am. Blue Daniel is keeping an eye on things upstairs. We’re a bit worried Bridgeton has entered the house.”

  “On it,” Jesse said, running up the stairs.

  “I’d be tucking in your collars, and start acting more mason-like,” Jon advised.

  One of the burly ghosts waved the priest over to the wall and ran his hand over the crack and coached them in Italian what to say.

  Jesse skidded to a halt. Bridgeton Atwater was headed for the library. Since they had never conversed, Jesse decided to play dumb. “This is a closed construction site. Can I help you?”

  Bridgeton looked at the handsome contractor. “Are you aware of who you are speaking to?”

  “No, should I be?”

  Bridgeton frowned.

  “I’m Jesse Holden. I’m a contractor specializing in the structure of this home.”

  “I’m the heir apparent, Bridgeton Atwater.”

  Jesse extended his hand. He was surprised when it wasn’t taken. There was something odd about the man before him. He was stiff as if he was a new marionette with his strings too tight. That’s it, thought Jesse. Someone else is pulling his strings.

  “Who’s in charge here?”

  “That would be Wayne Shipley. I’ll go and fetch him.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wait for him in the library.”

  Jesse left, walked a few feet down the hall, and radioed Wayne. He then returned to find Bridgeton staring at the portrait.

  “Ah, the patriarch of your family,” Jesse said, leaning against the door jamb.

  “My great-granduncle,” Bridgeton acknowledged.

  “You don’t look much like him,” Jesse said.

  “It’s unfortunate.”

  Jesse was surprised. “I think you’ve done quite well genetically.”

  “That’s what my fiancée thinks,” Bridgeton said. “Why are you still here?”

  “Wayne asked that I stay until he arrives, just in case you have any questions. Also, this is a haunted house. No one should move about by themselves.”

  “I’ve never had any problem before.”

  “Good for you. Personally, I’ve been attacked. My boss was possessed, and two of our contractors were held hostage for hours.”

  “Where is your boss?”

  “Meeting with Congressman Atwater,” Jesse said.

  “Why?”

  “Because the job is near completion. Unfortunately, we’ve found a problem with the foundation.”

  “Why wasn’t I called?” Bridgeton demanded.

  “That you will have to take up with Ms. Pickles,” Jesse said. “I just work here.”

  “Why are you still here?”

  “I thought we just went over this?” Jesse said, starting to suspect Bridgeton was either losing his nut or wanted him out of the room. “Ghosts. You can’t be alone in the house.”

  Wayne walked into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were arriving so early.”

  “I’ll leave the two of you to your business,” Jesse said and walked out of the room. He waited a moment, and when he heard business being conducted, he felt safe to leave the two of them alone.

  “The priests have it in hand downstairs,” Cid told Jesse as he entered the kitchen. “Pete and I decided to give them some room.”

  A crash followed by a thud echoed through the building.

  “Wayne’s alone with Bridgeton in the library,” Jesse said running out the door.

  Cid and Pete caught up to him. They took the stairs two at a time.

  They found Wayne unconscious, lying on the library floor. His head was bleeding, but the man still lived. Salt and glass pieces were imbedded in the wound.

  “He’s set August free,” Faye said.

  “I’ll go warn the priests,” Pete said leaving the room.

  Cid started to administer first aid. Jesse ran to the window to get better reception so he could call for an ambulance. He saw movement below. Bridgeton was walking outside with purposeful strides towards the lake without his coat on.

  “Bridgeton is heading for the water. There’s no boat, just an iced-in dock.”

  “The keys are gone,” Faye said looking into the open safe.

  “Bridgeton is going to get rid of them!” Jesse said running out of the room.

  “Jesse, we have a copy!” Cid called after him.

  “We never tested them!” Jesse called back, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He ran full out for the exit that would get him closest to the patio.

  He stood just inside the tree line. He had already found the old stone circle. The stones lay flat, hiding the old bones that he found bound in iron chains in four separate boxes. In the mouth of each of the dead lay a black crystal. The power that each box contained was enough to turn the tide of any battle.

  A movement from outside the house caught his eye. Someone was running. He followed the man with his eyes to see another man carefully walking on a wide dock. He moved as far as he dared, not wanting to be caught out.

  “STOP!” Jesse cried. “You can’t in good conscience do this!”

  Bridgeton turned around and asked, “What? Walk on my own dock?”

  “The keys. Bring back the keys.”

  “These keys?” Bridgeton asked. “Do you know what they’re for?”

  “I’ve got a good idea. Bring them back. Your mortal soul depends upon it.”

  Bridgeton ran towards the edge of the dock. As he did so, he brought his arm back and launched the keys as hard as he could over the frozen lake.

  Jesse could just hear above his pounding heart the sound of them landing on the ice.

  Bridgeton turned around and walked back towards Jesse. “They’re gone now.”

  “Do you know what you’ve done?”

  “Secured my power in the house until I escape in this warm body.”

  “But you can’t get far.”

  “I will bide my time until Gadus is back under my control. She can’t be happy playing benefactress when her heart craves the games we used to play together.”

  “Which Atwater are you?” Jesse asked.

  “August. You saw my picture over the safe. My stupid grandson Arnold should have changed the combination. Did he think that I wouldn’t have a backup plan when he stole the witch from me? Bridgeton has been my playmate since he was a small child. He and I played together in the house I bought for his family. I was his invisible friend. It was only a matter of time before he would come looking for me.”

  The wind picked up. There was a tiny clink as a key settled with the others against the frozen water. Jesse looked at the sun overhead and knew it was only a matter of time before the keys would be lost in the lake as the ice melted beneath them.

  “Go ahead and get them. I’m a sporting man. You get the keys, and I’ll let you open th
e boxes. That is, if my monsters will let you near them,” August said. His laugh was shrill.

  “Bridgeton, you can fight him,” Jesse said as he lowered himself over the edge of the dock onto the ice. “Drive as far away from this place as you can get. I’ll send help to you. Kiki flushed that monster from her veins. You can too.”

  Bridgeton seemed to shake out of the trance he was in. “I was all-state in college. I expect the keys are ninety-five yards straight out, on ice not thick enough to hold a man,” Bridgeton said, his voice noticeably lower. “Save yourself and leave this place. I’ll make sure you all get paid.”

  Jesse moved towards the keys, taking careful steps. The wind was against him. He could see old ice fishing holes that only had the briefest crust still covering the cold water. The nearer he got to the keys, the sound of open water assaulted his senses. He put his hand over his eyes, blocking the glare of the sun. What was ice and what was water? How far did he have to go?

  The pounding of feet had him stepping back into the trees as a hooded contractor and a large muscled black man ran in the direction of the dock. The contractor stopped to tie the line around his body. He handed the bulk of the rope to the black gentleman before he too eased himself off the dock.

  “JESSE! STOP!” Cid yelled. “I can hear the ice. It’s not sound!”

  Jesse eased himself to all fours and then to his stomach as he moved the last few feet to the keys. He didn’t bother to answer Cid because he couldn’t hear him above the pounding of his heart. All he saw were the keys. All he felt was the bitter wind. All he knew was that this was either the defining moment of his life or the most stupid one. He moved closer. His hands were chapped by the cold. There was water on the ice which soaked Jesse’s clothes. He knew that he would have a harder time on his return trip because his wet clothes would adhere to the ice and slow down his progress. He pushed all this away as his fingers curled around the large metal keys.

  Jesse pulled the keys to his body as he turned onto his back and lay still a moment. He thought he heard Cid calling him, but he wasn’t sure. He pulled out his prayer beads and looped them through the metal circle holding the keys and then pulled the beads over his head, tucking them down deep into his shirt. If the ice broke under him and he drowned, the keys would be recovered when they found his body. Jesse carefully pivoted around and moved slowly towards the shore. Pulling and pushing his body with his hands and feet.

  Cid stopped moving. He feared his weight was doing more damage the closer he got to Jesse. He decided to take a wide arc so he would come up upon the other contractor from the thicker ice and be there if he was needed. He saw Jesse stop and move to his knees. Jesse had just stood upright when the ice around him broke. Cid moved fast, pulling the rope with him. He looked down, making sure to dodge the ice fishing holes. That’s when his heart stopped. He saw Jesse beating on the ice under him. The current had taken the contractor towards shore but also under the thicker ice.

  Cid pounded on the ice to no avail.

  “MOVE!” a familiar voice commanded.

  Cid threw himself out of the way just as the spectral axe of Stephen Murphy came down and cracked a hole open in the ice. Murphy chopped again and again, looking for the contractor, but Jesse had no air left, and the icy depths had claimed him.

  Cid got up and plunged through the hole and down into the icy water. He moved his arms wildly until he connected with Jesse body. He pulled him to his chest, kicked upwards, and tugged hard on the rope.

  Carl and Pete pulled together and were rewarded with Cid breaking the surface. They continued to pull as Cid arched his body as if something invisible hauled him out of the water. He was holding on to Jesse’s inert form. They pulled them all the way to the dock. Pete ventured down and helped Cid up. Something unseen had Jesse.

  Murphy had seen this before. Blue lips too long starved of air. A heart that wouldn’t beat on its own. Blood too cold to move through the body before him. He reached his hand around the keys, past the prayer beads, and through the ribs, to wrap around Jesse’s heart. He squeezed and released until the blood once more moved through the frozen man’s body.

  Jesse coughed.

  Carl moved him to his left side, and Jesse threw up the cold water, coughing and taking gasps of air. Jesse’s eyes didn’t want to open, so he kept them closed. His chest hurt.

  The siren from the ambulance, called originally for Wayne, echoed off the stone building. The EMTs ran to the dockside and took control of Jesse’s medical situation.

  Cid felt a warm blanket tossed over his shoulders, and he allowed himself to be cut free of the rope and led inside by Father Santos.

  “Where’s Bridgeton?”

  “He left just before the EMTs arrived,” Father Santos told him. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes…”

  “Wayne?”

  “He came around. He’s sitting on the steps in the grand foyer with Faye. What possessed Jesse to go out on the ice?”

  “The keys. Bridgeton was getting rid of the keys.”

  “I thought you had made copies of the keys.”

  “Jesse doubted that the wooden replicas could turn the locks. I would have cast them in metal as soon as I had the materials. We would have found a way.”

  “Maybe Jesse thought we didn’t have that kind of time,” Father Santos said.

  The fog was clearing from Cid as he warmed up. Gary had raided the trailer and brought the first set of clothes he could find. They were Jesse’s, but they were warm. Father Santos helped him to change. Cid’s cold fingers refused to work properly.

  “Murphy was there,” he said through chattering lips. “He cut through the ice… How did he get here?”

  “We picked him up when we got your truck,” Father Santos said. “Stephen wouldn’t ride inside the cab with us. He still thinks I’m going to trap him and make him go into the light. When he arrived, he left to investigate the walnut grove. Sally told him about the acolytes who didn’t return in Daniel’s story.”

  The second set of EMTs arrived. They wanted Cid to come along with Wayne, but he declined. He knew things were far from settled in the house. Father Simon went with Jesse but not before handing Cid the keys that were now wrapped in the prayer beads.

  “Faye!” Cid called, fighting exhaustion, sitting down on the steps that Wayne had just vacated.

  Faye appeared before him. “Did you warn the ghosts that the negative elemental is loose?”

  “Blue Daniel and Jon told me they had done so.”

  “The dark creature you seek was in the young man’s body,” Murphy announced, appearing behind Faye, causing her to jump.

  “Hopefully he’s left with Bridgeton. Stephen, you’ve dealt with a negative elemental before,” Cid said.

  “Very dangerous,” Murphy said.

  “This one feeds like the Mind Flayer,” Cid told him. “Please be careful. And, Stephen, thanks.”

  “What are friends for?” Murphy dismissed.

  “Have you had a chance to look around?” Faye asked, finding her voice.

  “This house is filled with ghosts of Eye-talians,” Murphy said amazed.

  “There are also two Irishmen,” Cid said. “One is sweet on Faye.”

  Faye blushed.

  Murphy grinned. “I wouldn’t mind shaking the hands of the men who have helped you.”

  Jon O’Connor and Blue Daniel appeared.

  Murphy was a bit taken aback by Daniel’s skin hue but wisely said nothing. “Stephen Murphy,” he said, reaching his hand out.

  “Were you a lumberjack?” Blue Daniel asked, shaking Murphy’s hand.

  “No, a farmer who died cutting down a tree. They buried me with my axe.”

  “At least they buried you,” Jon said, reaching over and extending his hand. “We’re stuffed here and there in this damn house.”

  “Where did you come from?” Blue Daniel asked Murphy.

  “Northern Illinois. Cid and I are n
eighbors. I rode down with the priests.”

  “I’d love to share stories with you when you have the time,” Blue Daniel said.

  Murphy looked at the ghost and nodded. “Let’s get you freed from this house first. I sense we don’t have much time.”

  Cid accepted the cup of tea Father Santos walked over with. He didn’t question the logistics of getting a brewed cup of tea in a haunted house; he just wrapped his cold hands around the mug and watched the three Irish ghosts converse.

  Father Santos sat down next to Cid on the steps. “It isn’t often we get a peek into the pasts of working men. Histories are written to laud the rich and famous. But it was these men who built this country.”

  “How are you getting along with the…”

  “Eye-talians?” Father Santos filled in with mirth in his eyes. “Slowly. First, it’s my being Spanish that they object to. Then there’s the issue with Father Simon. They called him a pirate at one point.”

  “But they had no issue with you not being in vestments?”

  “No. But by the time we were really communicating, we were interrupted by Jesse’s little adventure, so we haven’t given anyone last rites yet.”

  “It was almost his last adventure. Fortunately, Murphy was there to restart his heart.”

  “I wonder what the repercussions will be…” Father Santos mused.

  “Stephen saved Tom Braverman that way, and now Braverman sees ghosts,” Cid said. “Ted said that Murphy saved Mia twice this way. The second time, Mia woke up and asked if he’d mind removing his hand from her chest.”

  “I used to mind her irreverence, now I just smile,” Father Santos said. “Stephen’s a lot of things, but today he was a miracle. I’m glad I asked him to come along.”

  “So you asked him. It wasn’t Mia sending him?”