Reverend Paul watched them go and knew that he had very little time to do what he needed to do. He needed to find Evan, avoid the ghosts, and get out of the house. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel the climax approaching; he just didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t want to be in the house when everything came to a head.
He left the living room with every intention of going upstairs to look for Evan, but he stopped the instant he entered the doorway.
Evan stood in the hallway in front of him. His eyes were distant and his face was pale. It was clear that Evan was not Evan at the moment. The Reverend did not even have to question the matter.
He held up his hands and began to pray as the boy’s face contorted into an evil smile.
“You think your words will stop me, priest?” The boy spoke with a man’s voice; it sounded uncanny coming from his body. “You think anyone can stop me?”
Reverend Paul continued to pray, holding the rosary in his pocket and closing his eyes to focus his energy. He’d never done this before, but he didn’t doubt himself. He knew that doubting himself would be the first step to the spirit winning.
Evan laughed and it was a deep, throaty sound. “You are foolish and we will all burn for your foolishness. You will taste the fire, man of God. You will feel the pain I felt for all those years. They will know what it is like to have someone they love die, and never be able to reach them again.”
Flames sprouted out of the floor around Evan and rose up the walls beside him, and still Reverend Paul prayed.
From outside the house, Marc saw the first signs of the fire. His heart sank and every inch of him wanted to race back into the house, but he had no idea where he would be racing to. He didn’t know where Evan was. He didn’t know how to save him.
So he sat on the lawn with his wife and he did the only thing he could do. He called the fire department. It was the logical thing to do, and when everything else failed he would always be a logical person.
He could have sworn he counted the seconds until the front door opened. He wasn’t sure what he expected to come out of it.
Part of him believed that no one would be coming out that house. Part of him had already accepted that. But when the door opened, he had accepted that it would simply be the Reverend trying to save himself. He wouldn’t have blamed the man.
It wasn’t until the figure descended the steps, that Marc noticed that the Reverend was carrying a boy in his arms.
Marc cried with relief as he ran across the yard towards the Reverend and accepted his son. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
“I promised you I would get him,” Reverend Paul said, and then he collapsed to the ground.
Epilogue
What happened in the Blackmore House after Marc and Celine left would forever remain a mystery. Reverend Paul wouldn’t discuss it after that day. He wouldn’t talk about what had been found in the living room. He wouldn’t talk about what had happened with the fire or how he’d rescued Evan from the house.
Their questions went unanswered and so they stopped raising the subject. It was simply easier to accept that he was entitled to his silence on the issue. He had obviously been through something and they wanted to let him deal with it.
The landlord of the house had been a little shocked at the sudden fire, but had been more than happy with the insurance settlement from the ‘accidental fire’, and more upset that her tenants had been displaced.
It was such an odd situation. Ghosts and dead bodies and fire. Celine didn’t really understand it all, but she was glad that it was over now. She was glad that they were all safe, even if they were now displaced for the moment.
It had taken them a few days to find a new place to live. In the meantime, they had stayed with Laura. She’d been more than happy to put them up for a few days until the insurance money came through on their possessions and they were able to start over.
They found a nice little place a few blocks down the road. It wasn’t as old or as grand as the Blackmore House but that was just fine. Celine didn’t want another house with a history. She just wanted a house in which they could live, a house that would see them through this time in their lives so that they could move on.
Evan bounced back like he always did, with a resilience that surprised them all. She would never understand that. But after the move he no longer had nightmares and he slept peacefully. His treatment began running really smoothly and the doctors were happy with the results he showed. It seemed that they were definitely turning over a new leaf.
Marc worked just as hard as usual, but he made it home for dinner every night. He made sure he spent an hour with Evan each night and he made sure that he went to bed with his wife no matter what he had going on. If the events at the Blackmore House had taught him anything, it was that life was short and he needed to enjoy what he had of it. He needed to cherish what he had. So, he planned on doing that each day moving forward.
Celine was happy with the new house. The minute the insurance money came in, she set to work decorating and making it her own. She was sad that they’d lost many keepsakes in the fire but, when it came down to it, she was happy that they had made it out alive, all of them.
And they would make new memories. She was certain that they would make new memories. She held onto that belief as she bought what she could and did what she could to build a new home for them.
She liked that she was still so close to Laura. She would walk over with Evan whenever she craved human contact, adult contact during the days. It was a nice walk for both of them and it was good to get out in the fresh air.
Every now and then Laura would come over to their house. It was easier because she had a car and could make the drive. And she would even bring Reverend Paul with her sometimes. That was always nice.
The Reverend had become a close family friend since the events of that night. He had been over to the new house several times, and had dinner with them a few times, and Celine had begun to attend his services. It was nice to have some sort of religious connection, all things considered.
She had never considered herself religious, but considering her circumstances, she was willing to pursue any avenue. And she was rather fond of Reverend Paul. Not to mention, she felt as though she owned him.
He was the man responsible for the survival of her son. The least she could do was attend his services. The least she could do was be a good friend to him.
She was happy with the life that they were building in Leeds. She was happy with the way things were going with Marc and how attentive he now was. She was happy with Evan’s treatment and the level of optimism that the doctors held. And she was happy with the house they lived in.
It had no creaky floorboards. There were no whisperings in the night. No one had died in the house. And it had no ghosts, as far as anyone could tell.
She was done with that. She was done with the paranormal. She was ready for her life to get back to normal, or whatever normal could be considering their circumstances.
The Haunting of Dark Hallow
Prologue
Bassildon, Essex
April 13, 1837
* * *
She was beautiful, but beauty could only get a woman so far. And he would only let her beauty take her so far. It has been almost six months now. He’d been courting her, aggressively, and she had been evading all his efforts.
It wasn’t good practice to court a tenant in your building. It just wasn’t done. He was a gentleman. He should be looking for a lady; a proper lady, not some woman who lived in his building. But there was something about her. There was something that he couldn’t let go. It didn’t matter how many times she rejected him, he continued to pursue her.
He continued to call on her. He continued to send her flowers. He continued to ask her to accompany him on walks.
And every now and then she would say yes. It was like she was taunting him. It was like she was playing on his heartstrings. Perhaps she was simply bore
d. Perhaps she wanted to entertain him. Perhaps she really did like him and was simply playing hard to get. He couldn’t say. He didn’t know. But he latched onto those opportunities and he held on tight.
She had been silent for weeks now. She hadn’t answered any of his recent attempts to call on her. The flowers he had left had withered outside her door. She would not show her face. And it was such a lovely face.
There was only so much he would let slide for a pretty face, though. He had been rejected too many times. He had been led on too many times. He’d finally had enough.
Caroline Ellis was a striking woman. She was a beautiful woman. But he would not be treated like this. He would not be made a fool of. He was a Dark-Hallow after all. He deserved better than this. He was entitled to better.
But he couldn’t just let her go. He was incapable. If he couldn’t have her then no one could have her. It was obsessive, but he wasn’t going to fixate on that at the moment.
He preferred to look at it as revenge. He preferred to look at it as payback for her treatment. No woman should be able to treat a man like that, especially not a gentleman. No, this was not obsession. This was justice.
And so he formulated a plan. After all, people were more likely to believe him than a tenant in his household. He was a man, after all. He was a gentleman.
Caroline was sick and tired of Anthony Dark-Hallow. She was sick of the flowers. She was sick of the calls. She was sick of the walks in the park.
It wasn’t that he was a terrible man. He was nice enough. He was pleasant enough. But he was her landlord. It was simply not right. It was simply not done. And there was just something about him that made her cringe in his presence.
She didn’t want to be rude to him. He was the one who offered her housing, after all. But she was getting increasingly frustrated with his affections. So she simply shut her door and stayed in her room.
It was all that she could do. She could just close her door and ignore him. She had to ignore the flowers. She had to ignore the attempts to call upon her. And she had to hope that he would simply give up.
And she thought that he had. After four weeks, she had received nothing from him she thought that it was safe to leave the room.
She needed food. She needed supplies. She had letters to mail and errands to run. She had a life to live.
She couldn’t spend her days and nights in her room hiding from one man. If need be, she would move. She didn’t want to, but she would if she had to. She would always do what she had to in order to survive.
She had barely made it to the street when the men approached her. They said nothing when they grabbed her arms. They said nothing when she protested. They simply clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her away.
She stopped protesting. She knew when to give up. She knew how to pick her battles in life. And she let them drag her away. She let them take her all the way to the jailhouse where they tossed her unceremoniously in a cell and slammed the door closed.
“What is my crime?” she shouted from her place on the straw littered floor. She was struggling to prop herself up after being thrown down.
The men looked at her in disgust and one even spit on the ground. “Hold your tongue, witch. You know what you’ve done.”
“Witch? Witch!” She screamed from the floor as she crawled towards the bars. “I am no witch!”
“Hold your tongue or we will cut it out before you taste the flames.” The man glared at her one last time before leaving her alone in the cell.
The men left and she simply sat on the floor. A witch? How could this have happened? Who could have done this to her? Why?
And then it struck her. Anthony Dark-Hallow was her accuser.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she pounded her hand against her head and felt the tears well up in her eyes.
She wasn’t certain whether she was calling him stupid or herself. Regardless, she knew that she was going to die because of his accusation. There was no way around it. There was no way to prove her innocence.
She would die because she hadn’t indulged his attentions. She would die because she had closed her door and barricaded herself in her room. She would die for his pride.
She buried her face in her hands and she sobbed.
“Curse you, Anthony Dark-Hallow,” she cried, choking on her sobs. “Curse you and all who come after you. If I must die for your pride, then may you never have anything to be proud of again in your life. May you children and their children and their children’s children forever live in the shadow of your choices.”
She continued to sob and prepared for her fate.
Chapter 1
Starting Out
* * *
Dark Hallow Building
Bassildon, Essex
July 25, 2017
* * *
After four years, it was a relief to finally have a degree in hand. It had been a long haul for all of them. There had been late nights, there had been struggles, but they had gotten through it. And now they were all graduates from the University of Essex. They all had their business degrees. And they were ready to take on the world, in theory.
Rachel Dark-Hallow chuckled a little at the thought as she tossed her degree in the drawer of her desk. Ready to take on the world? She doubted that, but she was going to try.
They had such grand plans. Marc Bannerman, Jack Cull and Jessica Haddington and her, they all had such grand plans. They were going to make a difference. They were going to achieve greatness. They were young and ambitious. They had their futures ahead of them, and that was all that mattered.
Her head was filled with ideas. They would be meeting in an hour to look at properties. They were going to set up an office. They were going to create things. She could see it all now.
Rachel leaned back in her desk chair and stared at the wall that held her notes and her pictures. The four had been a group since their first year in university. They’d been fairly inseparable and now that they were finally done, they had no aspirations of going their separate ways.
Rachel had no clue what she’d wanted to do when she had embarked on business school. She’d had vague aspirations of having a start-up company and changing the world. It hadn’t been until she’d met the other three that she had really taken a direction. And now after years of hard work and planning, things were finally taking form.
She got up from her desk and grabbed her handbag, if you could call her large file bag a handbag. It was filled with the paperwork that the estate agent had given her. She’d spend the night pouring over the documents and weighing the pros and cons. That’s what she was good at.
That’s why they’d left the paperwork with her. Jack was good with numbers. She was good with planning. Jessica was good with marketing. And Marc was the computer guy. They all came together to make a really good team, but on their own they had their individual strengths.
She double-checked the contents of her bag before she headed out of her flat. Despite her independence, she still shared a flat with her mother. It worked for now. It saved her money and, for the most part, they kept out of each other’s hair. She dreamed of a time when she would have her own place, but she had a feeling that would still be a while down the road. She had a feeling that would be a long way away for all of them.
If things went the way she wanted them to, the way she planned, she would be spending many nights at work in the months to come. She wouldn’t be surprised if she basically landed up living at work. She wouldn’t be surprised if they all did, to some degree and in some capacity.
It took her about twenty minutes to reach the Dark Hallows Building. It still made her smile at the irony that the building shared her last name. That was a fluke, to be sure. Not that she really had anyone she could ask about it.
She frowned as she stared up at the narrow five-story building. Her father, Marc Dark-Hallow had left when she’d been only two, so she knew very little about her paternal family and heritage. Maybe she had a history con
nected to this building. Maybe some heritage existed that she didn’t know about. She hadn’t been able to unearth very much when she’d done her digging.
She had discovered that the building had changed hands several times since it was built in the 80’s. It seemed that no one ever stayed there too long.
Perhaps people just couldn’t make their businesses work. Perhaps it wasn’t the right location for them. She really couldn’t say, but there was just something about the Dark Hallow Building that drew her in and made her want to own it. Even as she stood on the street staring up at it, she wanted to be inside.
She knew they were going to buy it. She didn’t even have to wait to convince the others to be sure of it. She knew that it was the perfect place for them to start.
They had thought about leasing a floor of it at first. It seemed a little ambitious to purchase an entire building right off the bat, but with the price of it, there was really no choice.
With a few repairs and a fresh coat of paint, they would have a lovely office space and four vacant floors to could collect rental income from. That was really the important part. They might be putting the money in at first, but there was a huge opportunity to make a profit off the building if they did it right.
And Rachel was certain that they could do it right. She was confident that they knew enough eager people to fill the four floors of office space. After all, her graduating class was comprised of business makers and entrepreneurs. Their group had just been one of many. She had at least a dozen eager people she could call up and strike a deal with.
They had a plan, or at least she had a plan, and she had no doubt that they would find success with it.
She smiled up at the building as she waited for the others to arrive for their meeting. She knew that she was a few minutes early. She tended to always be a few minutes early. It was better that way. She hated being late and she hated holding others up.
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