Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1)

by Noordeloos, Chantal

  “The way your mom described the place, I was at least expecting a few gargoyles, and maybe a hunchback servant or two.” Bam laughed at her own joke, and Freya chuckled along. Oliver took a few steps forward, his thumb rubbing against his smooth chin.

  “I was afraid that the building would need a lot of work on the outside, but it looks fine at first glance.”

  Bam ran past them both, her short frame appearing almost elfin against the backdrop of the Victorian House.

  Oliver rubbed his nose, his eyes still fixed on the house. “I’m with Bam… this is nothing like what I expected. I was afraid it would be all dark grey stones and rotten windows. This is gorgeous though. I love the yellow brick. It makes the house look… friendly.”

  “Just wait until you see the inside…” Freya raked at the back of his head with her fingertips. “My aunt had the decorating skills of Morticia Addams from what I remember.”

  “The inside is what you have me for, darling.” Bam’s voice affected a false, aloof tone. “I’m the designated decorating queen. No inside can scare me, but this—” she waved her hands at the house and the area surrounding it, “—this can’t be bought or changed. And it’s perfect. This is the perfect place to start a new hotel. Look at the scenery.”

  “It is beautiful, I know. But this house—”

  “Hotel,” Bam corrected. She was halfway up the steps already.

  “It’s not a hotel yet. We still need to fix it. Anyway… whatever it is, this place is the only link to my scary relatives. My mother emigrated just to be away from them, and the house always played a big part in the stories she used to tell me. Apparently her side of the family were quite insane.”

  Oliver made a scathing noise, rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Bam just laughed and yelled: “Are you sure your mother didn’t just move to marry that dishy Viking of hers? I mean, I would have totally followed him to the ends of the earth for a chance to spread my legs for him.”

  “It’s not at all awkward when you talk about my father like that…” Freya wrinkled her nose at Bam, who didn’t seem to notice, and instead ran further up the steps. “You might want to tone down that sort of thing, Bam,” she called after her.

  “What kind of thing?”

  “That loud, blunt American thing you do. It was fine in Holland, at an international school with a bunch of other weirdoes… but here in the UK, you might seriously offend people if you talk about screwing their fathers. Ollie… you’re English. You tell her.” Freya turned to Oliver, but he was looking past her at the valley that lay far below. He took a few steps towards the edge of the hill. “Oh, look at that. Nothing can beat that view. I’m sure that guests will come here to be one with nature. We’ll be fully booked as soon as we open, you mark my words.”

  The grass in the valley was a stark emerald colour, and in its centre was a deep inclination that looked like a large black hole against the bright green. Thousands of poppies surrounded the chasm, imitating a large blooming bloodstain.

  “Do you know what the locals call that valley?” Freya moved up behind Oliver and whispered darkly in his ear.

  “The bonniest valley in all of Skye? A must visit for any tourist?”

  “Lucifer Falls.”

  “How… quaint.”

  “And you know why they call it that?”

  “I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.” A strong gust of wind pushed at their backs, edging them down the steep hill.

  “Legend has it that when Lucifer fell from Heaven, he landed right there.” She pointed at the dark circle. “That very hole is supposed to be the place where he entered Hell.”

  “What a… charming legend.” Oliver turned away, and for a moment his face was cast with a shadow of doubt, but then he cheered up and gave her a mischievous grin. “We could work this to our advantage. People love local legends.”

  “Angel Manor has a nickname,” she continued. “It’s not exactly popular with the locals. They call it Lucifer’s Lot.”

  “How very Stephen King.” Oliver took a tentative step towards the deep drop. “Is it because of all the vampires that live there?”

  Freya shrugged and let out a soft giggle. She hugged her arms around her shoulders and wrinkled her nose.

  “Probably.”

  “Don’t let silly stories scare you. The locals may not be fond of this place, but no hotel has ever been built for locals. Creepy myths are actually a great tourist attraction. It might not be as magical as the Faerie Glen, but it’ll have its own appeal.” Oliver turned to her and pressed his forehead against hers, his brown curls tickling her eyelids and cheeks, a faint hint of this morning’s coffee on his breath. “This is going to be good, Frey. It’s what we’ve been dreaming of for so long, a chance to get away from things and start something new. You told me yourself you needed to get away from your old life… what’s more ‘getting away’ than moving to this island? This inheritance is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you, I promise.” His hand forced its way under her arm and he pulled her along. “Let’s go inspect that manor of yours. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be. Imagine the potential.”

  Freya threw up her arms and sighed.

  “I don’t know… what if there’s truth in the horror stories? What if this place is bad? My mum seems to think so, though I don’t think she actually believes it to be bad in the supernatural sense of the word. Just… I don’t know. She has a lot of demons here.”

  “Oh, come on, you don’t even believe in… well, in anything, and suddenly you let a few scary stories get to you? Your mom is just really upset with her family, and the house is a symbol of that. It’s not like she believes in real demons or anything, right? God, Freya…” He ran his hands through his hair. “You know how much I hate talking about supernatural mumbo jumbo. It’s all bullshit.” He bristled, then turned to her with an inquisitive look. There was a sharpness in his expression, and Freya felt naked under his gaze. “Is it the scary stories, or are you just getting cold feet? If you’re changing your mind, then tell me now, Freya. I can’t deal with this shit once we start. We’re either doing this or we’re not. It’s up to you; it’s your house.”

  “I’m not having second thoughts… I just…”

  “For fuck’s sake, Freya, we moved all the way from the Netherlands for this. I know I was moving to the UK anyway, but I turned down a perfectly good job in London to come live on an island, and Bam gave up moving back to the US and becoming a porn-star or something.”

  Freya slapped him on the arm, and Oliver chuckled. Then his facial expression changed to one of earnest. “If we’re doing this we’d better be serious about it, and we need you on board, okay?”

  “I told you coming here was hard for me. This isn’t a new fear, Ollie. You’re not being fair. I can’t even tell you what I’m afraid of. Not the legends, honest; I know those are bullshit. It’s more… I’m afraid of the family stuff, if that makes sense?”

  “Well, sister… get over yourself. Look at the wonderful opportunity you have here. What else were you going to do with your dead auntie’s house?”

  “Sell it, like my mum begged me to do?”

  Oliver’s eyes twinkled and he winked at her. “That would be boring. Besides, if we can’t make it work, you can always sell it.”

  Freya rubbed her face with both hands and inhaled deeply in an attempt to dispel the heaviness she felt.

  She forced a smile. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. This place will be amazing, no matter how bad the inside might be.” She poked him in the ribs and ran after Bam, who was inspecting the courtyard. Freya knew she wanted this dream to work out as much as Oliver and Bam did. She longed for a new start. Her mother had been strangely silent about her decision, but mum seemed to contain her thoughts on her past better than she used to.

  “Look, angels.” Bam’s sing-song voice rang across the garden, and Oliver and Freya ran up the stone steps to join her.

  “This place is a
mazing, Frey. Look at the statues.”

  Two rows of stone angels stood on either side of the entrance. The sight of them made Freya’s stomach drop, as they had when she was little. There were six on each side and they loomed like silent guardians against the backdrop of the Manor. She still didn’t like the angels. There was something ominous about them.

  “I guess that’s why they call it ‘Angel Manor’. Have you seen these yet? The stones around the house?” Bam’s voice was high with excitement. She pulled up her hair and tied it in a bun at the nape of her neck. “Come and look.” Like a child who had just found a new candy shop, Bam pulled Oliver and Freya by the arms and led them to the front of the manor. Opaque white stones, possibly milk quartz, were set in the base of the building at regular intervals, and in the centre of each stone were symbols inlaid with gold leaf. Freya looked at Bam, who was squatting down at the side of the house, and Oliver, who was bent over right next to her, and realised how happy she was her friends were here. I hope they never get bored of this place and leave. The thought was so powerful she felt a slight tremor go through her body.

  “These look old.” Bam ran her childlike fingers, decorated with bright pink nail varnish, across the stones. She yelped, pulling her hand back, and placed the afflicted digits in her mouth and licked the fingertips. “And static.” Oliver followed her lead and placed his hand on the stone. The shock was so intense when his skin slid across the opaque material that Freya felt it from where she was standing.

  “Holy shit…” She took a step back. Oliver pulled his hand away and placed it to his chest. “What was that? Oh my God, Ollie… your nose is bleeding.” Freya squinted with a look of disgust.

  “So is yours,” Oliver shot back, then he pointed at Bam, “and hers.” They each touched their noses. Freya pulled her hand away and found it spattered with blood. A chill ran up her spine as she glanced at Angel Manor.

  Why am I so afraid of something made from bricks and mortar?

  “That’s pretty creepy.” Freya looked from one friend to the other. Bam scrambled to her feet and blinked, her childlike smile faltering for a moment.

  Oliver handed them each a tissue to wipe the blood away with. There wasn’t much; nevertheless, the three friends looked at each other in mute silence for a moment. Bam’s eyes were round and the smile was frozen on her face. Freya wrapped her arms around her chest again, squeezing her bosom tight.

  “I guess we just paid for the house in blood,” Oliver said in a Transylvanian accent, dragging out the last word. He forced a laugh and put his arm around Bam, but his words made the hairs on the back of Freya’s neck stand on end. She stared at the bright red stain on her tissue, and quickly put the whole thing in her pocket, out of sight.

  “I’m a little freaked out,” Bam admitted.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re pretty high up here, so I expect that we’ll get nosebleeds more often. Seriously, don’t blow this out of proportion, Bam. We all know what you can be like.”

  “Yeah… no.” Bam forced a smile again, her eyes dull. “I won’t make a big deal.” Bam visibly collected herself and turned away from the stones. Then, as if a switch had been pushed, her round face lit up. At that moment, Freya felt grateful that her friend had the attention span of a squirrel, a blessing which often steered Bam clear of a potential freak out.

  “I can’t wait to see the inside… you know, see what I have to deal with, being the interior decorator. I’m thinking we should stay with the Victorian style. Keep it looking authentic.” Bam’s words rang across the courtyard as she skipped ahead, dragging Oliver along with her to the front door. Freya barely paid attention to Bam’s prattling, her eyes focussed on the house as she walked forward. A slight movement from behind one of the third floor windows caught her attention and she slowed her pace.

  There’s nothing there. It’s just your imagination.

  Bam and Oliver’s chatter hummed in her subconscious, and she followed them to the large wooden doors. Freya glanced up at the third floor window again, but she didn’t catch any motion this time, and she scolded herself inwardly for letting her imagination get the better of her. Her friends’ excitement was almost tangible, and Bam jumped from one foot to the other as she stood by the front door.

  “Let’s look inside. Get out your key.”

  The key was old and made of brass, as old as the house itself, Freya suspected. With shaking fingers, Freya pushed the key into the lock and turned it. There was a faint click, and she could have sworn the door shuddered.

  All three friends held their breaths as the door creaked open to reveal the stale darkness lying on the other side. Light streamed in from behind them, reflecting off the tiny dust motes floating through the air like melancholy fairies, and the mouldy scent of old age invaded their nostrils.

  “This is not what I expected.” Oliver stood in the doorway, looking as if he’d been hit by a truck. “How long has your aunt been dead? Five hundred years?”

  Her eyes followed his, and through the beams of light, she could see what remained of the entrance hall. The furniture lay in shattered ruins, and everything was covered in cobwebs. The faded yellow wallpaper, splattered in pungent, black mould spots, curled back, showing the brickwork underneath, and a gelatinous brown liquid oozed through large cracks in the wall. The remains of two large staircases curled up each side of a large oak door. Most of the steps were missing, and those that remained hung limp like wooden teeth in a rotting mouth.

  “I… I don’t understand. My aunt died less than two months ago. This place looks like it’s been abandoned for years.”

  “I’m not surprised she died if she was living like this. That stuff looks toxic.” Bam pointed at a nearby crack and the glistening brown substance, her mouth pulled in a grimace.

  “I’m utterly gobsmacked.” Oliver leaned against the doorframe, his hand covering his mouth. Bam nuzzled her face against his arm, looking even shorter than usual.

  Bam licked her lips. “You know I said no interior could scare me? I was wrong.”

  “My aunt was a bit, erm… batty. I expected the place would need some work, but this…” The words trailed away, replaced with a wave of nausea.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Bam looked as though she was about burst into tears.

  “Who could have done this? Why did they break all the furniture?” Tears welled up in Freya’s eyes.

  “Look at the cobwebs. This wasn’t done recently. Maybe your aunt was burgled, or suffered from vandals or something.” Bam shrugged her shoulders in defeat and looked at Freya with a sad expression on her face.

  “Suffered from vandals? You make it sound like a rodent problem.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Whatever happened, your aunt didn’t bother to clean it up.”

  “I knew she was depressed. She’d lost all her kids in her lifetime. Who wouldn’t be a little depressed? But to be honest, this is worse than I could have imagined. How could anyone live like this?”

  “Did she live here all that time? I mean, she didn’t go live with relatives, or check into a motel or something?” Bam’s voice sounded muffled through Oliver’s shirt.

  “Yes, she lived here, right up to the very end. In fact, they found her dead in this house. No one told me it was in this state though. She died of a heart attack as far as I know.”

  “This place feels bad, Freya.” Bam looked at her, and Freya could see that all the eagerness had drained from her face. “Oh hush.” Oliver nudged her.

  “I come from a long line of crazy people, Bam. That’s all. Don’t worry too much about it.”

  Oliver looked around and pointed at the debris on the floor. “Is there another way in? The dust looks undisturbed. I can’t imagine anyone having passed through here for at least a few years.”

  “There are lots of entrances, so that could be possible. She was nuts, but I find it hard to imagine her living like this. Don’t think she could abide cobwebs. The place was always a bit cluttered, but very clean, t
hough I don’t see how this could be undisturbed. The paramedics must have used the front entrance.”

  “Maybe they got in through a back door too?” Bam bit her lip.

  Oliver shrugged. “Big house might have gotten the better of the old lass? If she was mentally unstable to begin with? You said she was depressed. Big house, all her kids dead… maybe she went loopy and embraced the filth?”

  He gently pushed Bam aside and stepped into the entrance hall. With care, the three friends picked a path between broken chairs, vases, lamps, and even a rotted settee, while broken porcelain crunched under the soles of their feet. When Oliver opened the door to the main hall area, a stale smell assaulted their nostrils.

  The main hall area was as disorganised as the entrance, with a large chandelier, made from hundreds of crystals, lying forlorn in the centre of the room. More broken furniture was scattered across the floor, and there was barely any wallpaper left on the walls.

  “This place is depressing.” The spark seemed to have left Oliver’s eyes, and his shoulders slumped. “‘Batty’ doesn’t even begin to cover this. I dread seeing what the rest of the house looks like.”

  The young man shrugged and shook his head. He walked to the white doors to the East Wing and opened them.

  “What the fuck?” Oliver’s voice sounded hollow. “Why is that walled up?” He stepped aside to reveal red brick and friable grey mortar.

  “My aunt… she was pretty paranoid about this place. Not sure what about, but she was always acting crazy about it.” Freya shot them a look between a grimace and a smile. “I’m not surprised she had parts of the house boarded up.”

  Freya spotted another worn set of doors on an adjacent wall. With a few strides, she reached them and pulled them open, but again, she found nothing but a flat expanse of brick and concrete. “This one is blocked too.”

  “This one isn’t.” Bam stuck her head past the doors she’d opened. “In fact… this wing doesn’t look too bad. Maybe she lived in here.” Freya and Oliver made their way over to Bam.