Shadows Rise

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Is that how you face your difficulties in life, Mr. Hale? By pushing them off to the side?”

  “Not always.”

  “Give me an example of a time when you didn’t ignore your problems.”

  Cade had to think back. Way back. “In war you have to push aside some problems because they won’t disappear. Prioritizing to get the job done is the only choice. Talking about them isn’t going to help a damned thing.”

  Prever’s gaze sharpened. “All right. You can believe that for now if it makes you feel better. I do think you should go back on the laudanum to help you sleep. I’ve run into quite a few soldiers who don’t sleep enough and hallucinate about things like ghosts.”

  Cade thought for a moment. “Do any of the other soldiers here see ghosts?”

  “As a matter of fact, they do.”

  “And you give them drugs. Get them addicted.”

  “Not all men react to laudanum the same way. Not all become addicted.”

  Cade grunted. Conflict twisted inside him. If he took the drug again, he’d fall into the trap of needing it. But maybe he wouldn’t feel the ghosts. He’d sleep. “I’ll become addicted again.”

  “Perhaps. But only temporarily. And you’ll be under supervision here. We’ll keep watch on you. There is one final thing I need to be certain of,” Prever said. “Do you still harbor ill will toward Nurse Dorrenti?”

  Cade didn’t know what he felt about her. “No.”

  “Good. Then she is safe around you? You wouldn’t harm her?”

  Cade sighed. “Hell, no. I don’t hurt women. I protect them.”

  Just like you protected Velia? A hot burn started inside him, the awful guilt rising up from nowhere. He wanted the laudanum now. He wanted oblivion and sleep. Renewed disgust charged to the forefront. Christ, he had to get a hold of himself.

  “That’s good to know.” Prever smiled, as if he’d accomplished a huge feat in getting Cade to admit it. “One more thing. Did your father encourage you to come after Nurse Dorrenti? Does he feel the same resentment as you do?”

  “My whole family does.” Cade shrugged. “My mother, not so much. She said we shouldn’t blame anyone. That what happened to my sister was plain and simple war.”

  “And you won’t accept that?”

  “No.”

  “I think there’s more to this than you’re telling me.”

  “Maybe there is. But it’ll give you something to do and something for us to talk about every time I come in here, right?” Cade couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

  Prever smiled. “That’s enough for today. You’re a bit of an enigma to me, Mr. Hale.”

  Feeling tension ease from his body, Cade stood. “Why is that?”

  “You checked yourself into this facility, yet you don’t seem to care about getting well. Most people at Tranquil View Asylum were committed by family or the state. Why are you here?”

  “All I need is a good rest. A good long rest. After that I’ll be ready to go back to the war.”

  Prever leaned forward and made notes in the file on his desk. “The Army doesn’t want you back until I tell them you’re ready.”

  That stung. Cade leaned on the doctor’s desk, both palms flat on the wood. “They’re killing men right and left over there. More than most people have seen in their lives. More than you can imagine. They’ll need me back. Officers die, too, you know.”

  Prever looked up from the file. “You say you’re insane, yet you want to go back to war. You cannot have it both ways. Do you think you need to decide which it is? Are you insane for staying here, or insane for wanting to go back?”

  Cade’s stomach did a flip and a flop, nausea rolling through him. He tore his gaze from the doctor’s. “Are we finished?”

  “For today. Until I’ve decided where you’re best suited to work at the asylum, you are free to do as you wish. You may rest. Take walks. Think. I’ll tell the watchman on your ward, and the nurses, that you have full reign of the place. I don’t see you as a danger to the other patients or yourself.”

  “Good.”

  Prever smiled. “There is one other thing I’d like you to do. Find some paper and pencil and spend quiet time in your room writing.”

  “Writing?”

  “Your thoughts and feelings. Whatever they may be. I’ve had great success with some men who write every day. Don’t worry about content. No one will read it but you. Perhaps it will help you make sense of your feelings.”

  “I’d rather paint.”

  “Did you do that before the war?”

  “Yes.”

  Prever went quiet for a moment. “I know the superintendent won’t allow canvas or paint for that purpose.”

  “You afraid I’ll eat the paint?”

  Prever laughed. “Not that you would, but the superintendent sees it as a danger.”

  “There are a thousand ways to die in this asylum. If I wanted to off myself, I can think of a few things that would work faster than guzzling paint.”

  Prever’s smile looked genuine. “I’m sure you could. Be that as it may, the paper and pencil will have to do. That will be all today.”

  Dismissed, Cade left the man’s office. He returned to the ward, dissatisfaction lingering. He should like the idea of having permission to explore wherever he wanted in the asylum, but it left him adrift. When he’d walked into Prever’s office, Cade had believed he knew who he was and why he was here. Now, confusion obscured his reasoning. Disconcerted by his own lack of understanding in himself and adrift in the worry, he had become a ghost that wandered the asylum ceaselessly looking for his head.

  * * *

  At eight o’clock that evening Cade had awakened. A nurse had brought him laudanum earlier in the evening and it had put him to sleep. The dreams had come anyway. Nameless horrors stalked him into a corner where he couldn’t escape. When he’d awakened in a cold sweat, he’d gone to the basin on his washstand and dabbed his face with cold water. He’d dried and realized sleep wouldn’t come again any time soon.

  Here he was, wandering the halls of the ward. He could go to the game room he supposed, but nothing there interested him. If there was one thing Cade Hale hated, it was feeling useless. He hadn’t felt this useless in a damned long time. He also hated confusion, and since his discussion earlier today with Prever, confusion remained his partner. He wanted clarity, but he didn’t know when he’d find it or how. Work, perhaps, would fix his problem, but Prever hadn’t assigned him to duty around the asylum. So until then, he would have to locate his own amusement. Damn the doctor for not giving him anything to do.

  Get a handle on it, Cade. You’ve never needed anyone before to tell you what to do. Even at West Point he hadn’t needed it. He’d followed the rules, but he knew in the end he’d get his way. Maybe that’s what he needed now. For a little while there would be no rules and nothing specific he had to do. Rules wouldn’t fix what was wrong with him. He needed purpose, not dictates.

  He thought of Annabelle and then wished he hadn’t. He’d made monumental mistakes with her. Allowing lust to overtake his common sense had been the first. Kissing and holding her had been heaven on earth, and that scared him. After all, it was so much easier to hate her.

  As he came to a stop in the middle of the hallway, he relaxed enough to take in his surroundings. Granted, he hadn’t done much of this since he’d arrived. Too much caring, too much noticing the sensations around him, and he’d be doomed. That’s when he let curiosity take him. He’d told Annabelle the building had problems, and he didn’t regret that. Whatever resided in this place didn’t like him, nor did it like her. Of that he could feel certain. As he stood in the dim hallway, a shiver passed over his skin. The sweater shirt and trousers he wore didn’t fight off the cold. He allowed the night to lead him and his thoughts to drift away on pure instinct.

  He headed for the central area between the two wings and stopped in the towering rotunda. He bypassed the central staircase and headed toward a back
area he’d wanted to explore since he’d arrived here. He saw the basement door, if that’s what it was, and what he could see of it looked heavy and menacing. It was tucked in a corner where light seemed swallowed.

  Curious, he took one step and then another. As his attention pinpointed on the area where night conquered, he tried to understand the anomaly. The lights at the end of the hallway should have illuminated the area but didn’t. One step and then another took him forward.

  He halted where light disappeared. It made no sense. Tightness entered his throat as he sensed the wrongness of the place. Taking a chance, he stepped into the darkness. Thickness enveloped him, the sludge clasping and holding his breath as he passed through it. Once inside the darkness, he clearly saw a door. Unnerved but determined to understand, he reached for the doorknob. Freezing to the touch, it burned him with cold. He snatched his hand back. How the hell could that be? A compelling force moved him to try once more. He snatched the doorknob and twisted. It opened silently on well-oiled hinges. A different fear developed inside him. On the battlefield, in the trenches, he’d become used to the threat that lingered like a miasma, suffocating and never ending. This tingled through his arm as he pulled the door open. No, this fear had no boundaries, and he suspected it could envelope a person in a way the war could not. A man could become lost here and never escape. He was dealing with a different apprehension, an upwelling of disturbance that snaked and slid and penetrated. It wasn’t loud like a shell explosion, but insidious and ongoing. Hell, maybe, could be like this.

  The stairs below dropped into pitch black. He searched for a light switch to his right and found it. He flicked in on. Light flooded the stairs and tempted him to descend. A simple basement or cellar. What of it? Why was he drawn here?

  He took one step, then another. His nose twitched. A stench rose up, appalling and horribly familiar. Jesus. He should have smelled it when he’d first opened the door. No mistaking that putrid stench. Involuntarily his gut clenched and rebelled. He put his hand over his mouth. Death.

  Cade took a step down. Another. And another until he’d reached the bottom. The smell retreated somewhat, as if it had a life of its own. He waited and listened for a sound. Nothing. Not even the dripping of water or the clank of machinery. Confidence returned now as the scent pulled away. He stopped again, relaxed and allowed what existed here to show itself.

  Impressions bombarded. Hate. Malice. Misery. Despair. Pain both physical and mental. He couldn’t breath as the sensations overpowered. Again he wanted to run, and again he didn’t. He pushed himself forward despite the nausea. He walked along a short corridor until he noted the cells on either side of the hallway. Eight on both sides. Wooden doors, nicked by age, had solid iron fittings to provide strength. No bars, but a metal slot opening at the bottom of the door where food could fit through, and a peephole where staff might stare in at the hapless patient. Or the patient might stare out.

  “What the hell is this place?” He didn’t expect anyone to answer, and he pushed onward.

  At the end of the corridor the area opened into a huge room stacked with neatly labeled boxes and random furniture. It didn’t appear as if anyone used the basement, least of all the cells. Were the cells a relic from a more cruel and primitive time when the asylum had first opened?

  A whimper startled him into awareness. He swung toward the noise. There, in another darkness so strong and thick, he saw the flash of two eyes. He took one step forward. Two.

  “No, don’t hurt me.” A man’s voice, stricken and shivering with cold. It was a voice Cade recognized. “Don’t hurt me,” the voice came again. “I don’t want to go back. Don’t make me.”

  “Ziggy? Is that you?” Cade moved toward the dark corner slowly. “What the holy hell are you doing down here?” Cade looked for another light switch, but didn’t see one. “Come out of there and lets talk. We’ll go upstairs and get something hot to drink. We’ll probably get scolded for being down here anyway.”

  One hand reached through the blackness. It was definitely Ziggy’s big hand. On instinct, Cade grabbed it and pulled. As if the darkness possessed its own force, Ziggy appeared from the murk with a slow reluctance.

  “Thank you.” Ziggy crossed his arms and shivered. “Thank you.”

  Ziggy’s usually confident appearance had altered so much that Cade almost didn’t recognize him. He almost seemed to shrink in on himself, his face deadly pale.

  “How did you get down here?” Cade asked. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

  Ziggy took a shambling step forward. “Don’t know if I can.”

  Compelled by an urgency he couldn’t explain, Cade grabbed the man’s arm and urged him down the hallway in front of him. Behind him, Cade felt a pressure pushing him. Shoving. “Hurry,” he said.

  Ziggy quickened his steps until both of them took the stairs at practically a run.

  When they reached the top, Cade closed the door firmly and turned to the soldier. The man shivered from head to toe. “What were you doing down there?” Cade asked.

  Ziggy’s eyes cleared, no longer the frightened little boy of moments ago. “What were you doing down there?”

  Cade tried to wrap his mind around the craziness that had happened below. Darkness had retreated from the basement door. Had he imagined it all? “You were in the basement by yourself in a corner.”

  “Lord have mercy.” Ziggy’s face turned white. “I don’t remember that.”

  How much should he tell the man? “You don’t remember anything?”

  Ziggy rubbed the back of his neck. Sweat peppered his white shirt and upper lip. “If I told you everything you’d turn me into Prever for sure. They’ll have me in a straitjacket before I can blink.”

  “You can trust me. I won’t tell Prever.”

  “How do I know?”

  “Because then he’ll want to know what the hell I was doing down there, too.”

  Ziggy nodded, apparently satisfied. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. So I started walking around. I walked down this hallway and I saw the door to the basement.” Ziggy lowered his voice, as if sure someone could listen in on the conversation. “The door was black, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I don’t even know how to explain it. I saw the door was open and there was this here maw. Like an open mouth. I couldn’t see a damn thing through the doorway. When I saw it ... it sucked me in. I felt myself walking toward it but I couldn’t stop. That’s all I remember until you and I got to the top of the stairs.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’ll say. Now explain why you were down there.”

  “I was drawn down there, too. But I seemed to have control of myself. I could have left at any time. Maybe I was ..."

  “What?” Ziggy’s voice was hushed.

  “Maybe I was drawn down there to help get you out.”

  Ziggy’s hands started to tremble, and he stuffed them in his pockets. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense. None of this does. Are we plumb in hell?”

  “No, but there’s something strange going on here, and I intend to find out what it is. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 6

  The next day Cade strode toward the administration offices with one point in mind: to discover the truth. Perhaps he hadn’t learned patience in the Army, but he’d learned to maximize his persistence. Whether or not the staff thought him ten bricks short of load, he would discover what or who haunted this asylum. Perhaps it would save his sanity, if not some of the other men in here. He needed to understand what he dealt with. In battle a man should know who the enemy was, where they were, and how to eliminate them. In an ideal world, he did. In an old asylum, he couldn’t say for certain who the enemy was, though he had some guesses.

  He caught up with Nurse Summit near the rotunda. As always, she had a smile for him.

  “What may I do for you Captain Hale?”

  “Call me Cade.”
<
br />   She cleared her throat. “I don’t think I should. It’s against protocol for the nurses to do that.”

  “Then Mr. Hale. At the rate I’m going, I may not be in the Army much longer.”

  The older woman frowned. “That would be a shame indeed.”

  He sighed, allowing his body to ease into a more relaxed pose. “Maybe not. If I find peace.”

  Sympathy shone in her eyes—the woman had a heart full of giving. He’d seen that the first day he’d met her. “How true. Now what is it you want to know?”

  “I need to know what happened here at the asylum in 1908.”

  Nurse Summit’s face altered into instant caution and surprise. “Where did you hear about it?”

  Damn, he didn’t know how much he should confess. “I heard a couple of the boys talking about it. Don’t know where they heard it.”

  She sighed. “What did you hear?”

  He gave her a quick and dirty assessment. “That’s all I heard.”

  “Then you missed out on quite a lot. The people who really could help you don’t even live here anymore. Masterson Healy’s son Morgan and Morgan’s wife Lilly witnessed the things that happened here, but not the murder of Masterson and the death of Patricia. After the investigation was complete, Morgan and Lilly moved to Denver where they still live.” Nurse Summit explained how Patricia’s insanity had worked on her entire family.

  “What happened to Constance, Patricia’s mother?” he asked.

  “She was found not guilty of murder. Constance shot her daughter in self-defense. I think she’s been punished quite enough with her own guilt. Why did you want to know this?”

  What could he tell this woman without seeming more unhinged? Damn it, he couldn’t lie. Anything he said would have to be honest. “When I first walked into this building I could tell that it has problems. There is a disturbance here. Ghosts and perhaps even evil.”

  The nurse rubbed her arms and smiled nervously. “That is complete garbage. I don’t believe in that sort of thing.” She peered closely at him. “I thought you were on laudanum so you’d stop seeing ghosts.”