Shadows Rise

by Denise A. Agnew

  He eased back and a soft exclamation exited her parted lips. Lips red from their kisses. Her eyes looked drowsy from passion, and he liked that. He yearned to see her naked and writhing under him as he rediscovered things he’d forgotten about lovemaking and wanted to share with her.

  “Cade, what are we doing?”

  He smiled and cupped her face. “Damned if I know.”

  He was ready to kiss her again when the lights dimmed down to a low glow, shading the room in an eerie highlight.

  “Wind must be messing with the electricity again,” she said softly.

  But he felt a subtle shift, a darkness that seemed to creep in, to slither as a lizard in search of prey. “I don’t think so. Can’t you feel it?”

  “What?”

  He cupped her shoulders, holding her near. “A hollowness. As if something is waiting. A slimy something.”

  She shivered under his touch, and he noticed the room temperature had dropped drastically, just as it had in the basement when he’d ventured there and found Ziggy. As it had when he’d found Annabelle alone with the shadow.

  She bunched his shirt in her hands, clinging to the fabric. “What is that? Oh God, what is it?”

  Panic in her voice ramped up his own apprehension, filling him with a dread as cold as winter. Before they could find out, the screaming started.

  Chapter 13

  As if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over her head, Annabelle was jerked from her happy state. Cade’s arms encircled her as if he could protect her from whatever monsters lurked outside the room. Screaming came from more than one area outside, as if every man on the floor had suddenly awakened from a devil-filled dream. Too stunned to move, she realized a moment later the hellish sound hadn’t abated, and soon other staff would converge on the area.

  She broke from his arms. “Hurry, we have to see what’s happening.”

  She opened the door before he could, and they burst into the hallway. Cade glanced around the empty hallway. “Where first?”

  “Here.” She started toward the room to her left and everything happened at once.

  Two nurses burst into the hallway. Nurse Summit ran toward them. Dr. Emmanuel Hollenbeck came moments later. “What the bloody—?” The doctor was obviously shocked by the combined sound of several men in the throws of a horrible dream. “What in the name of Satan’s trousers is going on?” Hollenbeck’s English accent was trimmed; he’d lived in the United States fifteen years, but right now his roots came back full force.

  Cade blocked Annabelle from opening the patient’s door. “Wait.” He opened the door and clicked on the light switch. The soldier, a Private Lorenzo, was just finishing a scream as he bolted upright in the bed. Lorenzo wrapped his arms around his thin body, his torso shaking and his mouth open as if he planned to scream again. Annabelle and Cade rushed to opposite sides of the bed. Lorenzo, though wide-eyed, was strangely silent now.

  “Private Lorenzo, what happened? Are you all right?” Cade asked before Annabelle could react.

  The private shook his head. “Damned if I know. Worst nightmare I ever had. But I don’t remember anything now.”

  “You don’t remember the dream at all?” Annabelle pushed the man, curiosity mixing with a genuine desire to calm the man’s fear. “Was it the war?”

  “No.” The private shook his head. “I know it wasn’t about that. Whatever it was ..." Tears formed in the soldier’s eyes. “It was something else. Holy mother of God, something damned horrible. All I remember is blackness. A mouth so dark and wide open. It wanted to swallow me. That’s all I remember.” Annabelle’s blood ran cold. If she’d ever denied Cade’s assertions that the asylum was haunted and perhaps evil, her doubts came crashing down.

  Chaos reigned for the next few minutes as Cade and Annabelle wandered from one patient to the next. Each man suffered from a dream they couldn’t remember, from a fear that rose from their primal center. Darkness was the central fear in their dream.

  “Did you have a nightmare?” Dr. Hollenbeck asked Cade as he stood with Annabelle and Nurse Summit.

  “No.” Cade had a straight face. “I was awake.” He didn’t glance Annabelle’s way, and she was grateful.

  “You got here very quickly,” Nurse Summit said as she turned to Annabelle.

  “I heard the screaming. I ran here.” She rubbed her arms and shivered. She didn’t have to act.

  After all the men had settled back in their rooms, some placated and some not, Doctor Hollenbeck turned to Annabelle, Cade, and Nurse Summit.

  “Well, that is enough of that for the night,” the thin, middle-aged man said. “Nurse Dorrenti, Nurse Summit, if you can report to the administration offices with me. I have a few questions for you.”

  The doctor’s gray eyes had a silvery component in the dim light, as if he were brightened from within. Annabelle couldn’t explain why his eye color bothered her, she only knew that it did.

  Annabelle turned a look on Cade but kept her tone and expression neutral. “Goodnight.”

  “Good night Nurse Dorrenti.” Cade’s deep, husky voice vibrated in her ears. Like it or not, the sensual rumble in his voice reminded her of his kiss.

  The kissing and touching they’d indulged in less than thirty minutes before gave Annabelle a secure feeling. It shouldn’t; she was indulging in risky behavior.

  All the way downstairs, Annabelle had a disoriented sensation, as if a compass had whirled and whirled without stopping to find true north. When she’d rushed into the hallway with Cade, she’d almost forgotten that her mask was hanging around her neck rather than fastened to her face. In the initial panic to take care of the soldiers, no one had mentioned it. She’d hastened at one point to retie the mask.

  Her nerves pinged inside her as uncertainty strangled her in its grip. She didn’t like this feeling, and she made a pact with herself to remove it. Dr. Hollenbeck led them into the office he shared with Dr. Prever. “Please ladies, have a seat.”

  Annabelle and Nurse Summit sat in the two chairs in front of the desk. Hollenbeck’s cold gaze pinpointed Annabelle. “Now, I want to hear from you again what happened,” Hollenbeck said as he looked right at Annabelle. “You were the first one there.”

  “I was making my way up to the floor when all of the men started screaming. It was ..." She shivered again, wanting Cade’s arms around her. “As if they’d all been seized by terror at once.”

  “I heard it as well and ran up the stairs.” Nurse Summit’s gaze wandered to Hollenbeck.

  “You weren’t wearing your mask when I arrived, Nurse Dorrenti.” Hollenbeck’s nose tilted upward. “Why?”

  He wore a mask, too, but she’d seen his cold face often enough. Beyond his disturbing eyes were thin lips, a narrow-jawed face, and long, broad nose. While most wouldn’t call him ugly, he wouldn’t win a prize for looks either. He was extraordinarily tall, easily over six feet and thin to the point of gauntness. He never seemed to eat much, and what he did eat he picked at like a bird. “Nurse Dorrenti?” the doctor asked again.

  Nurse Summit cleared her throat. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the material is stifling.”

  Annabelle jumped on the reasoning. “I felt like I couldn’t breath.”

  “Are you ill, Nurse Dorrenti?” Dr. Hollenbeck asked.

  Startled by the question, she answered quickly and heard the nerves in her voice. “No, of course not.”

  “We already have nurses down with colds. Can’t be spreading it to the rest of the population. By the way, what are you doing wandering about this late Nurse Summit? Didn’t you work earlier today?”

  Annabelle’s gaze skittered around the room. “I couldn’t sleep. I tried reading. None of it worked so I decided to work.”

  Without the benefit of seeing his entire face, Annabelle couldn’t read him. He nodded. “A great many sleepless people tonight.”

  “Dr. Hollenbeck, if I may ask,” Nurse Summit said, “what do you make of every man having the same dream. It’s ex
traordinary.”

  “Quite. I think some of it is explainable. They heard each other mention the blackness and decided to fabricate the rest.”

  “They’re all lying?” Annabelle’s disbelief showed in her tone.

  Hollenbeck’s eyes turned colder. “These soldiers do lie rather well. That’s why most of them are here.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Summit’s tone cooled as well. “Many are physically and emotionally damaged.”

  “No doubt. But a good many are lying to get out of fighting in the war. Cade Hale is a good example.”

  Annabelle retorted to the ridiculous assertion. “He is not. Why would you say that?”

  “I have seen the way he acts. He has no shell shock. Few of the symptoms. I believe he is faking his entire stay here. If I could convince Prever of that, he wouldn’t still be in this hospital and would be shipped back to France or shot for cowardice.”

  Annoyance sliced a hard, sharp path across Annabelle. “That’s ridiculous. He’s not a coward.”

  The doctor stared, boring into her with those icy eyes. “Speak to me that way again, and I will make certain you are dismissed from your position. Nurse Summit, as head of nursing here I require that you put Nurse Dorrenti on administrative leave until her attitude is resolved.”

  Boiling with an anger she could barely contain, Annabelle kept her tongue. But oh ... oh how she wanted to smack this man straight across the face. She looked at Nurse Summit instead.

  Dismay marked Nurse Summit’s expression. “We’re short staffed, Dr. Hollenbeck. We need all the help we can get.”

  “Do as I request or you will join her.”

  Nurse Summit sighed and looked at Annabelle. “Very well. You are placed on administrative leave.”

  “Dismissed,” Hollenbeck said.

  Annabelle’s spine felt as stiff as a board as she left.

  They retired to the rotunda, where Nurse Summit took her arm. “That wasn’t a wise thing to do. You’ll have to stay on the administrative leave until I can straighten this out.”

  Frustration piled high inside Annabelle. “I respect your wisdom, but I don’t have to like what is happening.”

  “No, you don’t.” Her eyes reflected warmth. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Prever and the superintendent. Hollenbeck is only here in the evenings. Now, there is another matter we must discuss. Two actually. The men were all dreaming of blackness. What do you make of that?

  “Cade and I talked about the blackness. The evil.” Annabelle gave details without letting the other woman know she’d been in Cade’s room. “I still find it difficult to believe.”

  The older woman wrung her hands. “This is serious business. There’s one thing I haven’t told you. I sent a letter to Morgan Healy and his wife Lilly about my suspicions. I asked them to come, but haven’t heard back. My guess is they want nothing to do with it.”

  “You think if they came here they could help?”

  “I think their experience with what happened in 1908 would help.” She shook her head. “The evil that occurred here ten years ago seemed dormant until the soldiers started arriving. I don’t know. Perhaps the evil feeds on the horror those poor men endured.” Silence wrapped them as Annabelle’s mind whirled with possibilities. Nurse Summit lowered her voice to a whisper, “You were quick to the ward. Were you already on it before the rest of us arrived?”

  Annabelle hesitated. “Yes.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t have your mask on. I saw you tying it quickly.”

  Annabelle’s stomach dropped. So be it. “Yes.” What else could she say?

  Nurse Summit’s expression barely changed. “I know why you were up here before everyone else. I should report you.”

  “You should.”

  “But I won’t.”

  Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  Nurse Summit shook her head. “I remember being young. Many years ago I met a man I should have married. I waited too long and listened to what other people wanted me to do. I saw from the minute you and Cade were together that you could mean something to each other. Don’t make the mistake I did and give up love. Because I’ve never loved again.”

  Nurse Summit walked away. The nurse’s statement rang in Annabelle’s mind, but Annabelle wasn’t worried. She didn’t love Cade.

  * * *

  Cade settled against his pillows, glad for the sun streaming through his window. It seemed the longer he stayed in this place, the longer the nights and the shorter the days. It wasn’t from a normal changing of fall into winter, but from this building’s personality and its dark heart. The stonework seemed grayer and the windows unable to bring in as much light as before. If he were to mention this to anyone, they’d assure him all was well, that he was imagining all this. They would nod their heads and whisper, poor, poor Cade. The war has damaged his brain with no hope of repair. He actually believes ghosts live here. Each day he reminded himself that he hadn’t imagined the day before. Odd things hadn’t happened because he had lost his mind, but because they’d honestly occurred.

  His mind turned back to last night and the nightmares the men on this ward had experienced. Another part of him shoved aside the bizarre occurrence, the impossible things. His thoughts turned to his discussion with Annabelle, and the chance she’d taken coming to this room. Despite what she may believe, she had more bravery than some men he’d met in France.

  He fidgeted with the journal and opened it to the next blank page. He stared and didn’t know what to say. He certainly couldn’t write what he thought. His mind was filled with images and feelings dealing with Annabelle—her mouth against his, the sensation of her body, so soft, pressed to his, her exploration as she touched, the undeniable feel of womanly softness. His cock hardened to steel. He considered taking it in hand to relieve the pressure. He resisted with effort. If he could martial his sexual drive, make it disappear for however long it took, maybe he could harness his desire for Annabelle Dorrenti. He tore his mind away from her and to the writing. When Prever had said that writing might help him, he’d thought the assertions inaccurate and unlikely. As time went on and the pages filled each day, he'd become almost addicted to time with the journal. He needed to spill his thoughts onto the page and give them life, and to speak with the diary like a confidant. The urge overtook him. Time to write.

  Starting this journal each day has been more difficult than going to war. Time, though, has given me two minds. I don’t want to write and yet I cannot resist it. It is hard work.

  War required little effort. It seems most things consisting of anger and hate don’t take much. I joined the war because it was expected and required. I knew the difficulties of my work, and I understood how damned awful it would be. And although I suspected coming back from war would present challenges, I never guessed how drained I would be, how uncertain and futile my world would feel once I returned to the United States. Doctors don’t understand what’s wrong with us, but I don’t say I blame them. If they haven’t been in a war themselves, their imagination is all they have. Some of them don’t have any damned imaginations. They think bravery is all that’s needed. There are men at Tranquil View Asylum who are the bravest I’ve seen. They did all they needed to except give their lives. The dead, I think, are the lucky ones. They don’t have to live what we have left, what grows in our heart and pollutes our minds.

  With those thoughts, his writing dried up. Though the sun was out, the room dimmed. Frowning, he looked up. A thick, ink miasma slipped between the cracks around the door. Startled, he watched without moving.

  What the hell? Blackness engulfed the door, a slithering absence of light that glided over the walls and threatened to encircle him. Fear seized him. He tried to move but couldn’t. He recognized this entity, this evil, as the same substance that Ziggy had suffered from and that had almost inhaled Annabelle in the basement. The thick intrusion took the air from the room and threatened his sanity. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real.<
br />
  With a gasp for air, he pushed against its weight. He managed to cry out. “God damn you, go back to the devil!”

  The slippery blackness disappeared as if it had never been there. He leapt off the bed, his breathing labored. He ran to the door and pushed away the chair that acted as a barrier. He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Empty. He looked down the hall one way, then the other. Again he looked to his right. Nothing.

  * * *

  “What?” Annabelle sat on her bed, certain she hadn’t heard Penelope correctly.

  Penelope pulled the hat off her head and rubbed the back of her neck. She sagged onto Annabelle’s bed, lying back and sighing. “Singing.”

  “You want to have a singing competition here at the asylum?”

  Penelope tore her mask off and tossed it on the bed. “This thing is making me chafe.”

  Annabelle stripped her mask off her face. “Because if it is a competition, you would win. You have a wonderful voice.”

  “I wouldn’t get up there without you. We could have it in the auditorium.”

  “And whose idea was it to have a singing event?” Annabelle asked.

  Her friend smiled, and Annabelle cherished the moment. She hadn’t seen anyone’s full face in days. No, no. That wasn’t true. She’d seen and touched and tasted Cade. Heat flooded her at the thought. But then Penelope spoke.

  “Dr. Prever’s, if you can believe that. He thinks the men will enjoy it. Something to get their minds off things.”

  “All of them?”

  “Only the ones wanting to go.”

  Annabelle went silent, and Penelope had to break the quiet. “And Dr. Prever wants any man with a voice to sing, too. He knows most of them won’t sing. But I hear that Captain Hale agreed to entertain us with his singing.”

  “Oh?” Annabelle hardly knew what to say.

  Penelope made a scoffing sound. “Come on my friend, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t love to sing with that man.”