by H. P. Bayne
Sully no longer had any question where he’d been taken.
It was the day of his father’s death.
No.
Sully couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but he knew what the men were arguing about. Flynn was accusing Lowell of killing Aiden; Lowell was denying it. Lowell’s hands extended at his sides in a “come on” gesture, as if disbelieving what Flynn was saying.
Lowell made lying an art form, and Sully didn’t need to hear to know he was putting the skill to use now. He’d be drawing on the brothers’ past together, the bond they’d shared for years, the love Lowell professed to have for his nephews.
The worst part was it appeared to be working.
Flynn had come here with his mind all but made up against Lowell. Now confusion coloured his features around the anger and grief.
Lowell gestured toward the sitting room. Come, sit down. Let’s talk about this.
Flynn stared at his brother another long moment, as if trying to see past his eyes to the brain behind. Somewhere inside that head the truth hid.
At last, Flynn turned and headed toward the sitting room.
Lowell reached toward a small table, to a marble statuette of a horse. He wrapped his fingers around the neck, hefting it so its heavy base was raised high above Flynn’s head.
No. Oh God, no.
Sully was about to witness his father’s murder.
10
Sully tried to shut his eyes but he had no eyes to shut. Not in this form. It wasn’t him standing here, after all. It was the presence haunting this house.
And it wanted to watch. It wanted to watch with every molecule of its being.
Lowell took a step forward and started his swing.
An impact came, but not to Flynn. Sully felt it against his face, a hard slap. Then a second.
His eyes shot open. He was back in the third-floor bedroom, Dez’s form hovering above him, eyes wide and mouth popped open in fear.
Sully tried to talk but ended up in the midst of a hacking fit. Dez had yet to say anything Sully could hear.
But now wasn’t the time for talk, the threat still so close. One moment Sully was on the floor, struggling for air, the next he was upended over Dez’s shoulder, the lit room receding into the distance. His coughing increased as Dez’s jog sent his large shoulder hammering into Sully’s midsection, but he didn’t stop until they were back on the main floor.
In the sitting room where Sully had been only moments ago.
Dez set Sully down on the couch, then retreated to the kitchen. Sully kept his eyes on Dez, like an adrift sailor on a land mass ahead. Dez filled a glass with tap water and placed it on the coffee table. Then he eased Sully to sitting.
“God, Sully, you okay?”
Sully nodded. His breathing had settled, but his throat was dry. He reached for the glass, but his hands were shaking too badly to grasp it properly. Dez sat next to him and held Sully’s fingers around the glass, stilling them enough to allow him to bring the water to his lips. A little sloshed out, but he managed a good sip nonetheless. The cool water felt good against his throat, and he managed a second mouthful before Dez helped him replace the glass on the table.
Sully dropped his head into his hands before realizing he was mirroring the posture Lowell had taken in the vision. He corrected himself, lowering his head farther and entwining his fingers at the back of his head.
Dez’s hand landed on the back of his neck and squeezed gently. “You couldn’t breathe. You were just lying there, gasping for air. I didn’t know what to do.”
Sully lifted his head to meet Dez’s eye, offering the smile they both needed. “You did the right thing. You saved my ass. Again.”
“What happened?”
Sully turned away, eyes scanning the coffee table. He saw the object in a new light now. Lowell had lied, had reported Flynn’s head injury had come from a fall, supposedly after having suffered a heart attack. Had Lowell suggested the coffee table as the cause of the head injury? Sully dragged his eyes next to the table near the entry hall. The marble horse was gone. As far as Sully knew, no marble horse was ever mentioned in the evidence against Lowell. No doubt he’d tossed the thing somewhere or had hidden it so well it would never come to light.
“Sully?”
“Something attacked me. It shoved me inside the room and forced a vision on me. It tried to make me watch Dad’s murder.”
Sully didn’t look at Dez, but he knew the impact of his words when the fingers on the back of his neck tightened a little. “Sull ….”
“I didn’t see it. You stopped it. You pulled me out before it ….” He trailed off, wanting to leave it there.
Dez had other ideas. “What did you see?” The tone was reluctant, anxious.
Sully shook his head. “No. I’m not doing that to you. You know well enough what happened. You don’t need the description.”
“Will it help you to tell me?”
Sully met Dez’s eye. That’s why he was asking, not because he wanted to know but because he thought talking about it might act as some sort of therapy for Sully.
“No,” he replied. “It won’t.”
Dez nodded, relief tinting his features. “Okay. And you’re sure you’re all right?”
There wasn’t a good answer. Physically, he was fine. The shaking and lightheadedness had subsided and his throat felt better. Psychologically, that was another matter.
“I just want to get the hell out of this house.”
“We could sleep in the SUV,” Dez suggested. “I could fold the rear seat down and we could stretch out in the hatch.”
Sully grinned. Six and a half feet of Dez weren’t going to be doing any stretching out in a vehicle, seats folded down or not. Even so, Sully liked the idea.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good with that.”
Still fully dressed, they left through the front door, ensuring it was unlocked in case they needed to return to warm up. The vehicle started fine, and the two of them worked on getting the rear seat folded down and the items in the hatch shifted around to better accommodate them. It was cold—really cold—but it would warm up in a few minutes. Anyway, Sully would happily put up with the temperature if it meant staying out of the house of horrors.
Dez folded down the front passenger seat as well, providing himself with a little extra room. It was far from comfortable with the two of them squeezed into the tight space, but still infinitely preferable to the alternative.
“This is stupid,” Dez muttered.
Sully turned, trying to make Dez out. Between the time of year and the storm, it had grown dark, and he had only the dashboard lights to go by. “What?”
“We would be in the cottage right now if that woman wasn’t such a bitch.”
“She’s scared.”
Dez snorted. “She’s scared? We’re lying in a freezing vehicle during a blizzard because it’s better than being inside the warm house.”
“Okay, I hear you. But she’s been dealing with the place a lot longer than we have. If we hate it, think how she must feel.”
“I don’t care how she feels.” But the heat had left Dez’s voice, turning the comment into a mere grumble.
“How much gas do we have?”
“Don’t ask.”
Sully turned, craning his neck to see. Not much more than a quarter tank. They’d need to leave enough to make the drive into the city tomorrow, once the storm ended and the roads were cleared.
Sully voiced the worry. “I don’t think there’s enough fuel to get us through the night.”
Dez didn’t respond.
“Dez?”
“What do you want me to do, Sully, huh?” Dez snapped. “Yeah, I know, all right?”
Sully grimaced. The tension was getting to Dez. “We need a plan for how to use it, that’s all. I mean, it’s obvious we can’t run it all night. Not if we want to get out of here in the morning.”
“We’ll get the vehicle warmed up and then cut the engine for a
while,” Dez suggested. “When it gets too cold, we’ll restart it. I know it’s early, but let’s just try and get a little rest right now, all right? It’s going to be a very long night.”
Sully had another thought. “Maybe we should call Leo first.”
“Sure, let’s call Leo.” Dez’s tone was the sound of an eye roll.
Sully pulled out his phone and clicked the home button to illuminate the screen.
Nothing happened.
“Damn,” Sully muttered.
“Don’t tell me. Your phone’s dead.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Dez squirmed around to wrestle his own phone from his inside coat pocket. “Happens damn near every time you’re around ghosts. Hopefully, mine still works.”
It did, Dez’s screen showing its usual image of his daughter, Kayleigh. Luckily, Leo had called him earlier in the day, so it was a simple matter of going back through Dez’s call log to find the right number.
Dez tapped to call the number and waited.
“Hey, Dez Braddock here,” he said after a few moments of silence. “Give me a call when you get this.”
He rolled a little to place the phone in one of the centre console’s cupholders. “No answer.”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda got that.”
Dez smacked Sully on the arm. “Shut up.”
They lay there in silence a few moments, the vehicle’s engine running a little smoother, the radio playing quietly in the background. Dez listened to nothing besides rock music and the song seemed sickeningly fitting.
“ ‘Getting Away with Murder,’ ” Dez said, proving he’d caught the same thing. “Want the radio off?”
“Nah,” Sully said. “It’s distracting.”
Distracting for Dez, anyway. He started humming along partway through, leaving Sully with his thoughts. Dez had brought him down from the third floor but part of him was still up there, trapped in the vision. He’d escaped the worst of it, but he knew nonetheless where it had gone from there. The images had stopped but the outcome remained unchanged. The tree had still fallen, though Sully hadn’t been there to see.
As it stood, he’d seen far more than enough.
Horrified as he’d been by the vision, it had taken until now for him to see beyond his own fear and grief. He hadn’t been watching as himself, after all, but as the entity in the house. It hadn’t shared Sully’s dread. Lost at the time in his own emotions, he’d shut out the bulk of the spirit’s own feelings—for lack of a better term—on the event. Removed from the situation and with time to consider it, Sully recalled the other sensations prickling at him during the vision: excitement and satisfaction. The entity had thrilled to the moment, it’s energy throbbing like a quickened heartbeat as it watched.
Or more than watched. Sully had seen his share of schoolyard fights, had been at the centre of more than one when bullying had taken a harsh turn. Bullies always came with their own cheering section, at least one or two buddies who’d stand behind them and goad them on, pushing them to lay on a beating or to get back in once Sully had shown he wasn’t nearly as weak as they thought.
The entity felt like that, not the bullies, but the hangers-on. It wanted desperately to watch, but it also wanted involvement. And it drew its power from the rage and the turmoil around it.
There was no longer any question why the thing had played back the memory for him.
“Sully?”
The word from Dez drew Sully back. The song had ended and Dez was watching him closely. “What?”
“I’m doing a little better out here than in there,” Dez said. “But you’re not. Are you?”
“I am. It’s not as heavy.”
“But your head’s still in there.” Dez reached out, cupped the top of Sully’s head and gave it a gentle shake. “Quit thinking about it.”
Sully considered how best to answer before deciding Dez would be satisfied with nothing less than the truth. “I can’t.”
“Is it about Dad?”
“Partly, but not all of it.” Sully turned onto his side, enabling him to better meet Dez’s eye. “I’m pretty sure why it wanted to show me what happened to Dad.”
“It’s trying to break you down,” Dez said. “Yeah, I know. I figured that much out myself. Mrs. Carr said the atmosphere in the house was horrible after you visited as a kid. It reacted to you even then, and you’ve only gotten stronger. Like, a lot stronger. It knows you’re a danger to it, so it’s trying to throw you off balance. You can’t let it.”
“I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying.”
Dez held his silence a moment. Sully predicted the next statement even before it left Dez’s mouth.
“You’ve got ways of dealing with it.”
“I know I said that before,” Sully said. “But no. I’m not going there. I don’t trust that part of myself.”
“If it comes down to it, though—”
“It would have to be life and death,” Sully said. “Yours, not mine. I wouldn’t do it for any other reason.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I mean it.”
Dez propped himself up on an elbow “Sully—”
He cut in before Dez could mount further argument. “Listen, D, I know I’m strong enough to deal with that thing, whatever it is. I must be, or it wouldn’t be so intent on getting me out of the way. I just have to figure out a way to do it without causing even bigger problems.”
“How?”
Sully debated answering, but again, honesty seemed the best option. “No idea.”
Dez pulled the phone from the cupholder and held it out to Sully. “Call Raiya.”
Raiya Everton was incredibly wise when it came to the paranormal world. Sully’s professor friend, Marc Echoles, knew about things in an academic sense and could open Sully’s eyes to possibilities he hadn’t considered, but Raiya could often help Sully in a more practical way.
“What if Leo tries to call back?”
“He can wait,” Dez said. “Call her. I saved her number in my contacts.”
Sully didn’t voice his amusement at the fact his brother, of all people, had a witch’s contact information saved in his phone. He tapped on the number and waited the couple of rings before she picked up.
“Dez?” she said. “Everything okay?”
Sully put the phone onto speaker for Dez, then set it on the floor between them. “It’s me. My phone’s dead. Dez and I are at Lowell’s house in the country.”
“Good lord,” she said. “Why?”
Sully grinned at the tone but the weight of the situation erased the expression within the next moment. “We’ve been asked to help the sister of a client.”
“Let me guess. Sister’s dead.”
“You know me too well.” Sully explained the situation as best he could before detailing the run-ins they’d had with the malevolent spirit in the house. “The housekeeper calls it a demon.”
“I don’t know about demons exactly, but there certainly are some very nasty entities out there. I’ve tangled with one or two in my day. You get people in a coven who aren’t there for the right reasons, they can invite things in that don’t belong. Some of these spirits simply want to corrupt us or feed off our energy. Others are far worse. People connected with the house have died violently, and you tell me this thing was present when your dad was killed. If it was involved in the others too, you could be dealing with something very dangerous.”
“I know,” Sully said. “We both do. That’s why I’m calling. I think it recognizes I’m powerful enough to control it, and I know I am. But I don’t know if I can do it without Thaddeus.”
“You leave Thaddeus alone, you hear me? You don’t call that part of your soul up again. There are other ways.”
“Like what?”
“When you help souls cross, you open a portal for them to the other side. You can do the same for this entity.”
Sully stared at the phone as if it were Raiya standing before him. “I don’t open anythi
ng. I get them what they need, and they cross on their own.”
“Not how it works, my friend,” she said. “Why do you think some spirits get trapped here? If they don’t take their exit when they have the chance, they get stuck on the freeway, so to speak. The light opens to people after they die, but it only stays a brief time. Otherwise, all sorts of things would be climbing in and out of there. In order to cross, someone needs to reopen it. You might not know you do it, but you do. It’s a part of your gift, just as much as your ability to see the dead.”
Dez’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead.
“What if it doesn’t want to go?” Dez asked. “What does he do then? I mean, something tells me this thing isn’t going to lay down its arms and ride off happily into the sunset.”
“In that case, it will need a push. Exorcists rely on written text to do the job. Sully doesn’t need that. Focusing on opening the door will accomplish the first task. And don’t worry it could go where it shouldn’t. Once they’re in the next world, forces exist to sort good from evil.”
“I think I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t know how to open one of these doors,” Sully said. “I mean, what do I do exactly?”
“I don’t have the answer, I’m afraid. I don’t share your gift, so I don’t possess any kind of detailed knowledge. The best I can suggest is you put yourself back into one of the moments where you helped someone cross. Think to what it felt like, how you acted, what you said. You’ll find the answer there.”
“All those times, all I did was talk to them and their loved ones. I didn’t see or even think about any doorways.”
“Maybe it’s not a conscious thing,” Raiya said. “Maybe it’s connected to your subconscious, your emotions even. You’re a warm, compassionate person, Sully. People who have had near-death experiences describe the feeling within the light as warmth and compassion. Maybe it opens for you because you are the light.”
Sully reluctantly met Dez’s eye. Dez bit down on his lip, but not before Sully noticed the upward quirk.
“Even if what you say is true, how’s it going to help me with the thing in this house? I can tell you right now, it won’t be interested in warmth or compassion.”