Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls)

by R. C. Matthews

  “Understood,” they both said in unison.

  The time had finally come for Grace to demonstrate her true worth. She prayed the captain would see her for the courageous young woman she was and not look upon her hereafter with fear, or worse, commit her immediately to the asylum.

  “Are you ready, Grace?” Brother Anselm asked, guiding her to the center of the room.

  She nodded and inhaled deeply through her nose while her mentor recited the opening prayer. The tangy scent of vinegar tickled her nostrils as a vibrant energy swirled around her, intense, yet not as threatening as her previous encounter in the ballroom. She opened her mind and sought the golden light of the Lord. Her spirit soared higher and higher as the light cascaded over her, filling her with the grace of God. Opening her heart and mind, she prayed for God’s mercy on the poor souls trapped within the moment of their tragic deaths, begging Him to grant her the power to guide their spirits to His holy light.

  Bursts of color flickered in and out of her peripheral view until everything zoomed into sharp focus. Grace gasped and whirled around, gaping at the finely dressed couples waltzing past her. On the surface they appeared normal, but when she honed in on their faces, a gut-wrenching sadness overwhelmed her. Their mouths were contorted at odd angles while their vacant eyes stared off into the distance. The couples circled the room over and over again, swaying to the sound of music only their dead ears could hear. A young woman floated by, and Grace averted her gaze from the lady’s partner, disturbed by the gentleman’s limp arm dangling from his dislocated shoulder.

  As the couples passed, Grace searched for her father among them. Based on her earlier encounters with his spirit, he wasn’t trapped in the ballroom but rather roamed his home freely, which meant only one thing. Marcus Deveraux hadn’t yet served the purpose for which he lingered on this plane of existence. Relief flooded her when her search turned up empty, because she still hoped to speak with him.

  She had never witnessed so many souls congregating in one place, lost and in limbo. A tunnel of white light poured into the ballroom through the corridor, and she stared in fascination as one couple paused before the entrance to Heaven only to shudder and resume their dance. Grace had experienced the phenomenon many times in her life: ghosts who feared moving on and remained trapped in a never-ending cycle of their death. But there was nothing to fear if one believed in Him. Their suffering would soon be at an end.

  Grace clapped her hands, bringing the dance to an abrupt halt. “Attention, everyone, please!”

  The couples stopped and whirled around to face her. A putrid stench wafted into her nostrils, but she held her gag reflex in check. She swallowed hard, suppressing the bile rising to her throat. Blood and gore stained the ladies’ fine gowns and seeped through the men’s crisp white shirts.

  “Thank you,” she said with a deep curtsey. “Allow me to introduce Brother Anselm, and I’m Grace. The Lord welcomes those who seek absolution and wish to be joined with Him in Heaven. We’re here to escort you to eternal peace. Be not afraid.”

  The guests eyed each other nervously and then gaped at the blinding white light, seemingly unconvinced. A middle-aged woman scowled and pointed her finger at Grace. Her blond hair sat askew on her head, arranged in an intricate web of braids and curls. Together with the woman’s high cheekbones and thin lips, she seemed familiar, but Grace struggled to recall where they’d met.

  “Liar!” the ghost roared, zooming forward and coming face to face with Grace. “Don’t think you can fool me, Eveline Mitchell. My husband’s little bastard. How dare you show your face in my home! As evil as your mother, no doubt. Satan’s daughter!”

  Grace’s heartbeat quickened as she stared into Lady Deveraux’s baleful eyes, recalling the woman’s scornful words during her single visit at the mansion when Grace had only been seven years old. Raw hatred radiated from Lady Deveraux, surrounding her in a halo of red. The woman had good cause for her anger, even if it was misplaced. Grace swallowed and took a calming breath. Brother Anselm threaded his fingers through hers, and she found her center once again.

  “Do not believe this woman,” Lady Deveraux said, marching between her guests, her eyes glowing with rage. “She’s as wicked as her conniving mother and will sacrifice our souls to Satan himself.”

  Grace reached for the cross on her necklace and held it up for all to see. “No, please, listen. I’ve come in peace to release you from this purgatory. I’m so sorry for your pain, Lady Deveraux, but please don’t misdirect your anger on me.”

  “Your mother brought on this devastation. And her blood runs through your veins!”

  Grace held her hand, palm up, to the crowd. “If I were evil, this cross would burn my skin. But you can see that I’m unharmed. I’ve come by the grace of God. Do not fear the light; follow Brother Anselm to your salvation.”

  Brother Anselm raised his crucifix high and walked toward the light, chanting. “Embrace the light. Follow me, for the Lord is our salvation.”

  An elderly gentleman gazed at Grace, his head tilted at an unnerving angle. He inspected her with great interest before nudging his partner forward to follow Brother Anselm. As they disappeared into the light without incident, another couple stepped hesitantly on the path toward the light, and then another. Lady Deveraux raced to the entrance, her face a mask of devastation, contorted with rage as she attempted to enter the light but to no avail. She paced, back and forth across the threshold, her agitation growing with each passing couple.

  “Please don’t leave,” she cried, her hands grasping at thin air in a failed attempt to detain her guests. “Do not leave me here alone, I beg you.”

  After the last ghost entered, bringing joy to Grace’s heart, the light snapped closed behind him, until nothing remained but the corridor leading out of the ballroom. Lady Deveraux growled and lifted her arms to the ceiling, swirling her hands in a clockwise motion. A swarm of dust lifted off the chandelier and enveloped the ballroom, dousing the light.

  “You’ll pay for this!” she hissed, and her jaw unhinged like a snake preparing to devour its prey. “You’ll pay for your mother’s sins, for your father’s sins.”

  Grace caught Devlin’s gaze and shouted, “Get down, both of you!”

  He gaped wide-eyed at the whirlwind and shared a questioning glance with Victor before they both crouched low.

  A mounting pressure built in Grace’s chest, and she pushed her arms straight ahead, pressing her palms toward Lady Deveraux’s spirit while she began to pray aloud. “O’ heavenly Father, protect us from evil and deliver us from sin, hear my prayers and banish all evil spirits.”

  Lady Deveraux sprang forward, shooting across the room straight toward Grace, her eyes aglow and her teeth bared. Holy light poured from Grace’s palms, encapsulating Lady Deveraux’s spirit and holding her suspended. The room temperature plummeted, and time seemed to stand still as Victor and Devlin stared, shock reflected in their eyes.

  The whirlwind of dust settled, and a burst of warm breath hissed in Grace’s ear. She didn’t need to glance back to know who’d joined them.

  “Well done,” Josephine said, slithering into view. “You’re magnificent in action, exuding so much power. Fearless. Beautiful. I long to have you by my side.” The gatekeeper wrapped her arms around Lady Deveraux in a tight embrace, pulling the spirit back against her chest. “Give in to the darkness, Grace. I know you feel it burning through your veins. Let me show you all that can be yours.”

  Liquid heat coursed through Grace, and she flinched, turning her gaze away from the abomination before her. What she felt was the power of God, not evil pulsing through her. She would not succumb to Josephine’s wile.

  “Do not look away.” Josephine purred. “Watch as I pass through the gates of Hell to deliver your gift. I’ll be waiting for you at the edge of the forest, near Neptune. Come to me … ”

  The ground beneath Josephine rumbled and cracked open, emitting a scorching flame that shot to the ceiling and then crashed
down again, sucking the creature and her prey into the bowels of Hell. The marble snapped shut, and the world faded to black.

  Grace fell to her knees, quaking with fear, because no matter how much she tried to convince herself that the half-woman, half-serpent was repulsive, the attraction Grace felt in her presence was intense, irrefutable. A shudder ran through her, and she howled in frustration.

  “Grace,” Devlin said, clasping her gently by the shoulders. “Are you all right? That was … ” His gulp was audible, the experience likely too horrible for words.

  She shook her head. “Take me far away from here, please.”

  He folded her into his arms, stroking her back. “Where shall I take you?”

  She needed to forget about Josephine, to remind herself of all that was good, to find peace, a place where she could think. “To the ocean.”

  The grounds of the manor were vast and included prime oceanfront property where they could roam free together without worrying about encountering another soul, living or dead.

  Devlin scooped her up and held her close to his chest. “Victor, go to the stables and instruct them to saddle Zeus. We’ll meet you there shortly.”

  Brother Anselm cleared his throat, and his hand rested on Grace’s arm. “Is this wise, child? Perhaps you should rest.”

  His voice was heavy with concern, but she needed fresh air and, most of all, to feel close to nature.

  “A bit of sun and the ocean breeze will refresh me, Brother. You know how much I enjoy hearing the rush of the waves. It soothes my nerves.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Very well, but don’t stay away too long.”

  Devlin carried her up the stairs and out of the mansion until they reached the path leading to the stables. He set her on her feet with care. She leaned her forehead against his chest, fighting back a new wave of insecurity. How much had he witnessed? What thoughts raced through his head? Did he wish to renege on his offer to explore the grounds together? She needed more time alone with him. How would she save his soul if he shunned her now?

  He fastened her cloak at her neck and brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “You were truly amazing to behold, Grace. I’ve never witnessed anything so spectacular in my life; the way the beam of light shot from your hands, the floor cracking open to emit a bolt of fire. How I wish I could’ve seen the full battle, but all I could see was you.”

  His words vibrated with awe, not fear. Tears of joy leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away, embarrassed by her display of emotion. “If you’re fascinated by my skills, then you must be as crazy as me, because most people are frightened out of their wits. What’s wrong with you?”

  He chuckled and wrapped her hand around his forearm as he led her to the stables. “Perhaps I’m tainted. I’ve experienced far too many unscrupulous adventures on the high seas. Nothing you say or do will ever shock me, Grace.”

  Her lips twitched, and a monumental weight lifted from her chest. “And what of the reverse? Will you shock me with your tales?”

  “Undoubtedly.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re sure you feel up to a ride?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m surprised you find solace being near the ocean,” he said tentatively. “Given your history … the loss of your sight.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and gathered her thoughts.

  “I’ve many happy memories with my mother at the beach. Searching for seashells. Building sandcastles. Strolling hand in hand. Frolicking in the water. Those memories outweigh the one unfortunate incident with Willie Jackson. Perhaps it’s the reason I reacted so violently to Willie’s taunts that day; he dragged my mother’s good name through the dirt in the one place that was our sanctuary.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Devlin said, his tone almost jovial. “Maybe one day you’ll sail with me. Something tells me you’d love the thunderous sound of the ocean as it crashes all around you, the cool spritz of water on your face, and the smell of salt in the air.”

  She sighed at the heavenly picture he created. “I think you must be right.”

  Before long, she heard the soft whinny of a horse, followed closely by a deep snort. Goodness, but it sounded close. Her heart thundered in her breast, and she pressed her lips together, coming to a halt.

  “Greetings,” Victor said. “Everything is ready.”

  Devlin laced his fingers through hers. “You needn’t fear Zeus. He is excited to see me. That’s all. Come, pet his mane.”

  He guided her forward, and she jerked back when her fingers rubbed against the coarse hair. It wasn’t at all what she remembered from her youth. Her father had forbidden her from entering the stables, but she’d snuck in once or twice. Standing on her tippy-toes, she touched the stallion’s mane again, this time running her hand along the length of his neck, until her fingers slid over warm, muscular flesh that rippled beneath her touch when the beast snorted once more.

  “What color is he?” she asked, intimidated by the sheer size of the stallion.

  “Black as night,” he whispered in her ear. “And twice as big as Goliath.”

  She grinned and petted the beast. “He’d have to be in order to accommodate you. Can he handle both of us?”

  “Of course. Now step aside as I mount. Victor will hand you up in a moment. I suggest you ride astride behind me if you wish to gallop along the beach. Or would you prefer to sit in front and remain at a walk or trot?”

  Brother Anselm would not approve. Yet the temptation of galloping with her arms clinging tightly to Devlin was too much to resist. Her cheeks flushed with anticipation, and before she changed her mind, she said, “Gallop.”

  His deep chuckle caressed her soul, and giddy tingles raced down her spine as he heaved himself into the saddle.

  “Left leg up and foot in my hands,” Victor said as Devlin gripped her under the arm. She pushed down and swung her right leg over with ease.

  Zeus stepped sideways, and Grace squealed, wrapping her arms around Devlin’s waist and pressing her cheek against his back.

  “Ready to ride like the wind?” Devlin asked.

  “Yes!” she shouted.

  He kicked the stallion into a trot, then a canter, and finally a full gallop. And for the first time since arriving at Devil’s Cove Manor, Grace let go of all her fears to live completely in the moment.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day Mother Nature favored Devlin and Grace with gloriously warm fall weather, and with the sun shining high in the noonday sky, they set off to explore the woods. There were countless tree roots, fallen branches, and large rocks to hinder their progress, but Devlin was determined to make it to the massive oak he’d discovered weeks prior while playing hide-and-seek in the forest with Maribeth.

  Grace wore breeches and sturdy boots, so he didn’t have to concern himself with her skirts catching on stumps jutting from the ground. She held tightly to his arm and listened intently to his instructions with an expression of sheer joy. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and she breathed deep every so often, apparently enjoying the fresh air ripe with the scent of damp leaves that littered the forest floor in varying hues.

  When at last they arrived at their destination, Devlin planted his hands on his hips and gazed at the tree with an assessing eye.

  “It’s a magnificent oak, Grace,” he said, guiding her to the trunk. “The leaves have turned burnt orange. Do you recall the color of fall leaves?”

  “Oh, yes.” The corner of her mouth curved up. “Warm, like the flames of a fire.”

  “The forest floor is a blanket of leaves, and still the branches are full. I imagine it must be hundreds of years old.”

  “So old?” Grace asked in awe. “Have you brought me to Sherwood Forest and The Major Oak, then? Shall we encounter the ghost of Robin Hood?”

  He chuckled and took a few paces backward to watch her study the bark with her hands. “It’s perfect for climbing. Sturdy limbs branch out in all directions, a
t least eight, if not more. One thick branch has grown in a downward slope and snaked its way along the forest floor. If you’re not careful you’ll smack your head on it in a step or two,” he warned before jogging to her side to assist her beneath it. “When you’ve finished examining the trunk, I’ll guide you up the broad limb and then follow you to the second tier of the tree.”

  “You’ve painted the image of an enormous spider with horribly long legs,” Grace teased, squeezing his arm. “Was that on purpose? You know how I detest spiders.”

  He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. “I don’t believe you’re scared of anything. They call me the Devil, yet here you stand before me without a single limb trembling in fear.”

  A burst of laughter exploded from her chest, filling his ears with a most pleasant melody. “So you admit it’s true! You must promise to share your adventures with me, Devlin. I long to hear about the world.”

  “I promise,” he said, drinking in the sight of her rosy complexion and angelic smile. “After we have reached the treetop, we’ll sit on a broad limb and reminisce about our pasts.”

  Grace ran her hand across the surface of the trunk and continued walking all the way around the base. “With such a wide base, the top must reach the clouds. How high can we climb?”

  Devlin glanced up and considered the distance to the second tier of branches. He didn’t dare risk her safety by going any higher. “I reckon at least three times my height. Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

  “Of course. You can’t afford for me to break my neck,” she said with a smirk. “Who would negotiate with Josephine on your behalf then?”

  A shudder rippled through him at the thought of Grace sprawled on the forest floor, her neck twisted at an odd angle. He tugged her into his arms and held her tightly, suddenly needing to reassure her that she mattered to him. Not because of her ability to communicate with Josephine. Because she was sweet, and kind, and forgiving.