by L.H. Cosway
“Can you write down the name and address of that restaurant for me?” Enda asked, diverting Noah’s attention.
“Of course,” he replied, pulling open a drawer and searching for a pen and paper. When he found them, he set the paper down, about to write when his eyes lifted to Sylvia’s. She was staring at him, and I watched his jaw tick, his expression hardening as he stared down at the pen in his hand. He was holding it in his right hand, but shooting Sylvia a dark look, he transferred it over to his left. He seemed almost defiant. The others in the room were too busy talking amongst themselves to notice the strange, silent interaction between mother and son.
“Here. You’re going to love their seafood chowder,” Noah said, handing over the paper once he’d finished writing.
“Fantastic. Sarah and I are always on the lookout for good food,” Enda said, sliding an arm around his wife’s waist.
“How lovely to be all together again,” Lydia said, lifting her glass in a toast.
“We had some good times back in the day,” Matt added heartily, his tone nostalgic.
“That’s actually why I invited you,” Noah said, wearing a smile I didn’t believe. It was fake, but I seemed to be the only person who saw it for what it was. “As you probably know, the 10th anniversary of my father’s death is coming up, and I want to hold a remembrance ceremony here at the house to mark the occasion.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Lydia exclaimed.
“Yes, it’ll be good to celebrate the old dog,” Enda added. “He always did love a party.”
“I knew him since our school days,” Matt put in. “He was one of my closest friends. If you need any help organising the ceremony, I’ll be happy to provide the food and drink.”
“Very kind of you,” Noah said graciously. I never thought I’d use that word to describe him. It had to be an act. Gone was the chaotic, wild intensity he normally exuded. He was acting like a normal, mature adult, and it made me extra suspicious.
“Where is Veronica tonight?” Theresa questioned, wine glass in hand. I noticed Principal Hawkins made no comment about the remembrance ceremony.
Noah cast his gaze on Theresa, a certain sharpness in his eyes when he looked at her. “She’s under the weather. Rest assured she’ll be present and well by the time the remembrance comes around.”
“Oh good,” said Enda. “Veronica was always the life and soul of the party.”
I guessed that was the polite way to describe an alcoholic.
“She’s very much like her father that way,” Lydia added fondly.
They spent the next half an hour reminiscing about the late great Victor Dylan. I mostly sat in the corner, observing. At one point, Enda came and perched on the arm of the sofa next to me, the scent of wine strong on his breath.
“You’ve grown to be a very beautiful young woman,” he said, eyes shining tipsily. “It’s no wonder my son is so smitten with you.”
Kean told his dad about his crush on me? I shifted in place, embarrassed.
“He came home today looking very upset though,” Enda went on. “I saw you both talking down on the beach. Did you upset my boy, Estella?” I didn’t fail to hear the note of anger in his voice. Being a successful businessman, Enda was clearly used to getting his way. The idea of his son being rejected obviously bothered him.
“If I caused upset it wasn’t intentional,” I replied, deciding I’d had enough of this conversation. I stood, but he grabbed my wrist tightly.
“Give my son what he wants, and he’ll treat you well. Very well. You could do a lot worse.”
“Please, let go,” I said, but his grip didn’t loosen.
“Let go.” Noah’s low, threatening command echoed mine, and I was suddenly aware of his looming presence behind me.
Enda plastered on an amiable smile and immediately released my wrist. “I was just telling young Estella here how my son is very much taken with her.”
“That doesn’t mean she has to be taken with him,” Noah responded archly, levelling Enda with a dark look.
Enda cleared his throat, looking unsettled by whatever he saw in Noah’s eyes. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t. My apologies, Estella, if I upset you.”
I didn’t accept his apology. Instead my attention was drawn to a kerfuffle on the other side of the room. Theresa was riffling through the old antique chest of drawers, pulling open each cabinet and searching for something inside.
“It must be in here,” she said. “Remember how we used to play with it all the time?”
“It’s in the bottom drawer,” came a quiet but sharp voice, and I almost forgot that Sylvia had been sitting over by the window.
Theresa’s eyes widened, like she’d forgotten her, too. “Oh!” She bent to pull open the bottom drawer and withdrew a large, flat piece of wood that folded in the middle. I had no idea what it was until she flipped it open to reveal an ornate Ouija board. My heart skipped a beat, unease filling me, as my eyes traced the engraved letters of the alphabet and the numbers zero to nine.
“Remember how we used to hold seances back in the day?” Theresa said with drunken fervour. “Such fun! We should do one tonight. Maybe we can commune with Victor.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea,” Principal Hawkins said, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder.
“Oh, come on, be a good sport,” she said, her eyes landing on me. “Hey, didn’t your daddy pop his clogs a while back? We could talk to him. Wouldn’t you like that, sweetie?”
I arched an eyebrow. This woman wasn’t only perverted, she was rude, too. Doing my best not to reply with, didn’t you try to have sex with a fourteen-year-old? I responded, “I like to imagine my father is in a better place, and I’d rather not disturb his peace, but thank you for the very sensitively worded offer.” There was no mistaking my sarcasm, and Noah barked a laugh. His lips curved into a smile as he brought his glass to his mouth. Others in the room seemed amused, too.
“I like this one,” Lydia said. “She’s feisty.”
“I wouldn’t mind taking part in a séance,” Enda put in, bringing everyone’s attention back to the board. “Who knows who we might make contact with.”
“My mother passed away a few years ago,” said Lydia. “I’d love to communicate with her. Just to know she’s okay.” She looked to Noah. “Do you mind if we do this?”
He made a sweeping hand gesture. “Knock yourselves out.”
Lydia looked to me now. “Would you like to take part? You must miss your father a great deal.”
“I do, but I don’t believe a piece of wood can help me commune with him.” I eyed the Ouija board, a sense of dread filling me. Whatever that thing was, negative energy practically pulsed out of it in waves.
“You’d be surprised,” Theresa said. “It’s a great relief to speak with those who’ve passed. My father died years ago, and he broke through once.”
“Doubtful,” I heard Noah mutter behind a cough.
“I’d still rather not.” I stood firm.
“It’s fine. She can just observe,” Lydia said, kneeling down in front of the coffee table. She grabbed an empty whiskey glass from the bar and placed it on the board upside down. It was a little bizarre to watch these grownups, who I’d known from afar almost my entire life, settle into a circle to hold a séance like a bunch of drunken teenagers.
Noah sat down in between Lydia and Matt, and I wondered if he was going to try to move the glass. They’d all be getting messages from their deceased relatives tonight, curtesy of Noah Dylan.
Sylvia still sat by the window. I met her gaze, and she looked frightened. I didn’t blame her. I’d only lived in this house a few years, but I was fairly convinced it was riddled with ghosts. Calling on them was just asking for trouble.
Theresa, who suddenly thought she was Psychic Sally, moved the glass around the board, saying she was “warming it up,” whatever that meant. She motioned everyone to place their fingers on the glass. Noah shot me a little smirk, and I shook my
head. He was clearly enjoying the theatrics.
“I’d like to take this opportunity to let any spirits know we’re open to communicating with you. This is a safe space to come through and send a message to your loved ones.”
I glanced at Noah and put an imaginary gun to my head to blow my imaginary brains out. He chuckled quietly to himself.
“Is there anybody there?” Theresa asked, but the room remained silent and the glass stayed still. “Is there anybody there?” she asked again but still nothing. “Is there anybody there?” she asked a third time. A silence fell. Then, the glass started to move. I rolled my eyes cynically, trying not to give merit to the chills that skittered down my spine. One of them was pushing the glass, likely Noah.
The glass slid toward the engraved “yes” to indicate there was, in fact, a spirit present. I shook my head, about to leave. A part of me felt like this was all nonsense, but another part sensed danger. Then, a dizziness overcame me. My breathing quickened, and my pulse raced, as though I was in the midst of a panic attack. The room darkened, and it felt like all those around me were suspended in time.
Across the room was Sylvia. She looked much younger, and she held a baby in her arms, a baby with a shock of black hair who wouldn’t stop crying.
“He never quits,” she said. “Nothing will soothe him.”
“Give him to me,” a deep, mature voice replied. It was a man’s voice. I looked to my right and saw Victor standing there plain as day. Like Sylvia, he looked a lot younger than he did in the photographs I’d seen. He walked over to her, took the baby and left the room. The crying stopped. Feeling the urge, I followed and watched as he ascended the stairs, the baby still in his arms. He went all the way up to the attic, pulling a key out of his pocket to open the door.
No, don’t go in there, I thought in panic. That room is no place for a baby.
Just when he pushed the door open, I came back to the present. I blinked and found myself surrounded by all of Noah’s guests.
“Did she pass out?” Lydia asked.
“She looks pale as a ghost,” Matt commented.
Then Noah came into view. “Estella, are you all right? What happened?” He looked genuinely concerned. I sat up, still feeling dizzy, and clutched my aching forehead.
“I have a terrible headache,” I said, my voice scratchy.
“I think you might’ve fainted,” Noah said, his tone soothing.
I glanced across the room, but Sylvia sat in her wheelchair like normal. Had I just hallucinated a younger her holding a baby she was at her wit’s end trying to soothe? What the hell was going on with my head?
Somewhere close-by, I heard Theresa scoff. “It was only a little séance. I can’t believe that would cause her to faint. We’d barely even gotten started.”
Noah’s expression hardened, his voice came out startlingly harsh. “You should leave!” he boomed, eyes on Theresa. An awkward silence fell. Then he seemed to catch himself and moderated his tone. “Sorry, I just mean Estella is ill. I want to take care of her and make sure she’s okay. If you all don’t mind heading home now.”
“Not at all,” said Enda. “You see to the girl.”
“Yes,” Lydia agreed. “It’s late anyway.”
A few minutes later they were gone. Noah picked me up and placed me on the sofa. “How do you feel?” he asked gently.
“I’ve just got a little bit of a headache. But I … I think I hallucinated seeing your dad. It was really weird.”
Noah frowned in consternation. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell I’d rattled him.
“It was probably just a dream,” I said, waving him off.
“No,” he breathed. “Tell me what you saw.”
I coughed, my throat dry. Noah poured me a glass of water, and I took a long gulp, aware of Sylvia in the corner watching our interaction. Would she see we were closer than we should be?
“You were a baby, and you were crying. Sylvia was trying to soothe you,” I told him in a shaky voice. “Your dad took you, and you stopped crying. Then he carried you up to the attic.”
Noah’s frown didn’t abate as he listened to me. Sylvia’s eyes were wide, and it made me nervous. Feeling the need to brush off the weirdness, I sat up and stood from the couch. “Anyway, I think the séance just scared me. That’s why I fainted. And whatever I saw was only a dream. Or a hallucination.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he let me stand anyway. I approached Sylvia, grabbing hold of the handles on her wheelchair. “I’ll put Sylvia to bed.”
Noah didn’t protest as I wheeled her from the living room and to her bedroom, all the while my heart wouldn’t quit racing. Whatever I saw, it seemed important. I helped Sylvia into her pyjamas and was lifting her into bed when her small, gentle hand landed on my wrist.
“You should be wary of Noah,” she said, her eyes concerned.
I blinked, taken off guard by her statement. “Why is that?”
“He’s dangerous. I can see he’s gained your trust, and that you two have formed a bond but … he’s not a good person, Estella.”
I studied her, anxiety gripping my heart. I didn’t want to distrust Noah, but why would Sylvia call him dangerous? “How is he dangerous?” I asked.
“He’s done bad things,” she replied.
“What sort of—"
“Your father once told me you were born with a caul,” she said then, cutting me off.
I stared at her, not understanding. “A caul?”
She slumped back, looking overcome with exhaustion, which made sense since it had been a long night, and this was the most she’d spoken to me in a while. I lowered her into bed and pulled the covers over. “What you saw was a real glimpse into the past,” she whispered then, her voice very weak. “When Noah was a baby, I could never get him to stop crying.”
Her words stole my breath. My dream or vision or whatever it was had actually happened? I wanted to ask more questions, but I could see by how her head flopped into the pillow she had no more energy left to talk. I left her to rest and slipped out of the room.
Once alone in my own bedroom, I grabbed my phone and looked up what it meant to be “born with a caul”. I read frantically, my heart racing. It was when a baby was born with a piece of the amniotic sac covering their face. Some people called it born with a veil, and the baby was considered to be blessed with good luck and immune from drowning for their entire life. I found that part particularly ironic since I was terrorised with nightmares of drowning almost every night. Also, losing my dad at sixteen hadn’t felt very lucky.
Many believed babies who were born with a caul had supernatural gifts, and this part struck a chord in me. It seemed ludicrous, and yet, I couldn’t deny how real it felt when I saw what I did.
I thought of the dreams I’d had all my life, dreams of people I’d never met or seen before. Of the woman running from this house and throwing herself into the sea, and of the man being drowned at the beach. How I thought I saw a flash of Lady Maeve’s ghost when I’d gone into the castle. The experience was all too similar to what I’d gone through tonight.
Was I psychic?
Even asking myself the question seemed ludicrous.
With a growing sense of unease, I shut off my phone and crawled under the covers. My mind went to Sylvia’s warning about Noah. She said he was dangerous, but she hadn’t explained why. And for some reason, I questioned whether I should believe her. If she’d given me the same warning when he first arrived, I might’ve taken it to heart, but now? Now I didn’t know what to believe. Noah wasn’t exactly the most normal person in the world, but something about Sylvia’s statement seemed, well, off.
It took me a long while to fall asleep. I woke in the early hours of the morning, and the blasted sleep paralysis dug its claws into me again. This time, it didn’t last for seconds, but instead dragged out for long minutes. A shadow swarmed at the foot of my bed, slowly drifting up towards me.
I wanted to scream.
The shadow pressed down
on my chest, siphoning the air from my lungs, like hands trying to crush me. A face formed within the shadow, one that was becoming more and more familiar to me. Victor.
You have to stop him, the shadow said in a distorted, discordant voice.
Stop who? I asked wordlessly because my own voice still wouldn’t work.
You have to stop Noah, it replied, stop him before he ruins everything.
A sense of terror gripped me tight. The pressure released. I inhaled a sharp, wheezing breath, sat up in bed and turned on the lamp like I normally did after a bout of sleep paralysis. This was unlike those other times though. The shadow had formed a face. It spoke to me in a voice that made every part of me recoil in terror.
Now I questioned if I ever had sleep paralysis at all. Had Victor’s ghost been haunting me this whole time? And if it was him, what exactly did he want me to stop Noah from doing?
17.
My nineteenth birthday arrived with very little fanfare. Aoife was the only person in my life who remembered the day. And because she was an absolute gem, she presented me with a miniature chocolate cake during lunch, alongside a small velvet jewellery box.
I opened it and found a pretty, delicate gold chain inside. It was almost identical to the one Vee ruined when she thrashed my bedroom.
“It’s for your cross. I’m not into all that religious stuff like you are, Stells, but I know your dad got you the pendant and that it meant a lot to you.”
The reasonably small gesture had me feeling all kinds of emotional. Tears welled in my eyes. “You’re a wonderful friend. Thank you.” I leaned across the table and pulled her into a hug.
“Get a room!” Sally shouted from two tables over, snickering with her friends.
I diligently ignored her. It wasn’t long now before I received my inheritance money and left this town forever. Sally would be stuck in this godforsaken place for the rest of her life, but not me.
“If you’d quit watching us all the time, we wouldn’t need a room,” Aoife shot back loudly. “I swear it’s like she’s obsessed with us.”