A Watch of Weeping Angels (Devecheaux Antiques & Haunted Things Book 3)

by M. L. Bullock

  Another piece of paper, which I assumed was the rest of the invoice, burst into flames and floated to the ground. It was a strange bright blue color. Phoenix and Joshua stomped it out. This was not safe.

  “Randall! You can’t harm us. We don’t give you permission. You are not allowed to burn anything in this shop. I understand you are afraid, but you do not have to serve Mr. Glass. You don’t have to be his slave in all this. There is something good inside you. Truly. I can feel it.”

  “I’m going to grab the Necro Box, Sierra.”

  “Do it, Joshua. Let’s give Randall a voice. He doesn’t appear strong enough to speak, even though he’s pretty handy at setting fires.”

  Quickly, Joshua set his camera on the table. It was still recording, but now he held his cell phone and a portable round speaker in his hand. The speaker would project the box’s feed. “Okay, Sierra Kay. It’s on.”

  “Randall? Can you hear me?”

  I wasn’t prepared for the answer.

  Mommy…are you there?

  I almost fainted when I heard my daughter’s voice coming through the equipment. Clearly, this was a trick. A lousy, shocking trick. And also a threat. I was frozen to my spot, unsure what to do next. Was he threatening Emily?

  Suddenly, Aggie’s hand was in mine. “We’ll do this together, Sierra.”

  And then Detra Ann held my other hand. “Yes, we are in this together. We’ve got your back, Sierra.”

  I swallowed the sob that wanted to escape my lips. I smothered my sorrow and instead let my anger rise to the surface.

  It was time to go to battle. And this was for all the marbles.

  Alright, Mr. Glass, your number is up. I’m here, and I have two friends with me.

  Chapter Sixteen—Aggie

  “Randall, can you hear me? My name is Sierra. I am here to help you. We all want to help you.”

  I noticed that Sierra had her eyes closed, so I did the same. Her hand was warm in mine. I hoped my hand wasn’t too sweaty.

  No! Burn!

  “You are not allowed to harm us. You cannot burn us, either. We want to talk to Randall, the little boy you hurt.”

  No…go away!

  Sierra tapped her foot and then opened her eyes. “He’s not going to let us talk to the boy. We’ll have to deal with him. If we can send him on his way, Randall will be free. Along with all the other boys and girls this monster has killed and trapped, in death and in life.”

  I agreed with her, but I didn’t know what to add to the effort. Detra Ann spoke up instead.

  “Mr. Glass, how dare you burn my house! How dare you come after our children. They are not orphans, and even if they were, they don’t belong to you. You won’t collect one more soul!”

  Give me. Girl. Baby.

  The voices on the Necro Box made my skin crawl. They were all different voices, but each had evil intent. Did that mean there were three spirits here, not two?

  As if she read my mind, Sierra answered my question. “That’s him. He’s trying to confuse us, scare us. Talk to him, Aggie. Tell him what you saw. Confront him. He needs to know that his secrets are out. Since he’s most familiar with you, it might be better if you reach out to him.”

  Talk. Angry. Fire.

  The Necro Box continued to spit out unconnected words. No way did I want to reach out to him, as Sierra put it, but I felt I had no choice. This needed to happen. This was my day of reckoning.

  “Headmaster Glass, I know what you did. You called your place Heaven’s Home, but it was anything but heaven. You left those children to burn in that place. You let them die because you were afraid. All this time, everyone thinks you are so big and bad, but it was you who got frightened. Alfred showed me what you did to him.”

  Stop. Bitch. Shut up! Run!

  I was so angry that my hands were shaking. “I’m not going to run from you. You’re no demon—not a true Soul Collector! You are a scared little man with a dark past. I know exactly who you are. Your reign of terror is over!”

  A scream rushed out of the box, so loud that my hands flew to my ears. I didn’t mean to break our chain, but this sound was pretty powerful.

  I reached for their hands again. No, I did not want to let go of Sierra or Detra Ann. Their presence lent me strength. “You have to let them go. What you did was wrong. You have to go and meet your Maker. You cannot avoid it.”

  “Go to the light, Mr. Glass. You need to move on. You don’t belong here. Not in this world. There’s nothing else you can do to us. Nothing else you can bring except more heartache.” This was Detra Ann speaking. I snuck a peek at her with one open eye.

  I had to keep going. “Go to the light. You must love someone. Someone loved you once. Who was it? Your wife? Your sister? Your mother? She’s in the light, Mr. Glass. She’s already there and waiting for you.” A sob escaped my lips as the statue began to rock back and forth.

  Thump, thump, thump!

  It was as if a giant had his finger on top of it and wanted to play with it. The tears continued to stream down, and we collectively screamed at the sight. The Necro Box spewed out more words, words that were even less connected now.

  Sky. Kill. Fire. Gavel.

  “Keep going, Aggie! He’s responding, and he’s letting go! Keep talking to him!”

  “I think it’s going to break!” Phoenix shouted, looking like he was torn between running away and tackling it.

  “Let go of it, Headmaster Glass! Let go of the statue and let go of the children! Step into the light. You’ll find peace there!”

  The Necro Box began spewing out profanities—I’d never heard so much filth in my life! It was disgusting, and the foul smell of sulfur filled the shop. Was something burning?

  “No! You are not going to burn this place! You will not burn us!” Then I could hear his voice, see his silhouette in my mind’s eye. He appeared as a black shadow, only man-shaped. Behind him were flames, burning wild and evil. “I see you! You are no demon but a man! You have no power over us! Step out of the flames and into the light!”

  Suddenly the shadow of Mr. Glass began to scream, as if he were burning in the flames. There seemed to be no end to his hatred.

  “Switch it up, Aggie! Talk to Randall! He’s here! I can see him!” Sierra whispered to me like a freight train.

  I could see the boy! His face was dark and crumpled, like any angry child who’d been murdered would manifest. He had a box of matches in his hands. His shirt was too big for him and came down over his burnt fingers. Yes, now I could see. He was so burnt, his flesh melted, and he was in a lot of pain. So much pain.

  “I feel your pain, Randall. I am sorry for what happened to you. Please, don’t leave. Listen to me. There are people that you never met in life, people who love you. They are waiting in the light. If you go to the light, all the other children will go with you. Please, Randall! Set them free! Lead the way. He tricked you—he tricked you all! You can do it!” My voice was tearful, but I also tried to convey hope.

  “She’s right, Randall. People who love you are waiting for you. Your grandmother Marie, you never got to meet her, but she wants to see you. She is wonderful, Randall! She will love you and never let anything bad happen to you ever again. She will keep all the evil away, I promise!”

  The statue rocked wildly now, back and forth, left and right. It was a terrible sight to watch this heavy statue shift around. Henri pushed away from the statue, in case it decided to wobble off the table and fall on one of us. The crazy Necro Box spit out static. No words, only static.

  “Everyone! Close your eyes! Focus on the boy.”

  “Randall,” I began to plead with the child. “Save Chloe. Save Emily. Save them from him. You don’t have to bring him any more offerings. He doesn’t deserve them, Randall! Go to Marie! Go to your grandmother! See the door? I see the door, Randall. That’s the door to her.”

  “You’re doing great, Aggie. Keep going!” Sierra encouraged me as my body began to shake. From nervousness or power, I couldn’
t tell, but I did as she suggested. “I’m not your judge, Randall. We’re not here to judge you. I know how horrible it was for you. I saw him whip you time and time again. Please, let the pain go. It will not bring you comfort.”

  “Go to the light. See the door? Aggie is right, there’s a door for you. Just you, not him. If you go to it, he cannot follow. Only the children can go!” Sierra commanded as he began to change before our eyes. No longer the burnt monster, he was a boy. A sad, terrified boy. He dropped his box of matches and took a step away from the statue. It was like he stepped out of it.

  And just like that, he manifested before us. A boy. You could almost touch him. Detra Ann whimpered as she opened her eyes. Yes, she saw him. She released my hand and squatted down before him. Her eyes were full of tears.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you, Randall. I forgive you for what you did to us. I forgive you. It’s okay. I know you regret what you did. Chloe is fine, Randall. It’s time to go.”

  Henri hovered nearby. Clearly, he was torn about what to do—protect his wife from this potentially dangerous boy ghost or stand by her decision to play Mom.

  “Come here, Randall. I am not afraid. Let me give you what you really want. I know what you really want.”

  “No, Detra Ann! Don’t do it! Please!”

  “Randall, come to me. Let me give you what you want.” Smoke boiled up from the floor, but I discerned that Randall was not the one doing this. Mr. Glass was trying to confront Detra Ann, confront all of us. “Let me give you what you need!”

  The Necro Box played weird music, old-fashioned music like from a harpsichord and a plaintive violin. What in the world?

  “Stay focused, Aggie! Help me envision the door. He’s going to walk through it. I know he will!”

  We all watched as the smoke continued to roil around our feet, but Randall was floating toward Detra Ann, his arms outstretched. Detra Ann did the same, and I watched with a lump in my throat as Randall slid into her arms and tilted his young head to rest it on her shoulder. There was nothing threatening about him. He was just a little boy, a sad little boy who needed to be loved.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. Go see your grandmother. She is waiting for you. Everything is okay.”

  The statue stopped rocking as Randall began to fade. The oppression, the smothering sickness that threatened to make me ill, dissipated too. He was making his final transition into the light. My heart skipped happily at his peaceful disappearance. The sign on the front door fluttered, as did our hair. A wild wind blew through the shop, but it was not destructive. Nothing had been damaged, but it was evidence that Randall had been set free. A flurry of visible lights streamed out of the statue. Dozens of small orb lights raced out of the weeping angel and pulsed out the front door.

  Yes, it was done. Completely done.

  Henri immediately picked up the phone and called creepy Mr. Glass. “We don’t want this statue. Come and get it today. Before dark.” Without waiting for an argument, he hung up and went to his wife’s side. She was still on the floor weeping. I couldn’t say when Headmaster Glass’ spirit left, or if he left, but the statue ceased weeping and the heaviness that had accompanied its presence lifted. Even if he was still trapped in the stone, he had no power over anyone. Never again.

  It was finished, or so I thought.

  *****

  I heard her crying. I hoped I was dreaming, but it did not stop. Someone in the shop was crying. I peeked in Patrice’s room, but to my surprise, my sister was gone. Again. What was going on with her? I couldn’t say, but I had to find out eventually.

  I reached for my shop keys and headed downstairs. I did not turn on a bunch of lights. I had to be sure that what I heard was actually coming from inside the shop.

  “You can’t be here. Who are you?”

  More crying, and it was coming from the workroom. Thankfully, the stone angel was gone, but we’d forgotten someone. I stepped into the workroom; light filled the doorway, but the rest of the room was dark. I flicked on a small lamp, unwilling to completely wash the room with light. It might make her flee, and I wanted to help her.

  I couldn’t say why, but my heart went out to her. Poor Mrs. Overstreet, unforgiven and alone. Randall’s mother was lost too, lost and unable to find her way to her son. She wanted that. I didn’t need an app to tell me what Mrs. Overstreet felt and wanted to say to me.

  I did as I learned from Sierra. “I can help you, Mrs. Overstreet. You can go find Randall. There’s no need for you to be here.”

  She continued to cry, but she was listening to me. She wanted to believe me. I could not let her down.

  “Can you see the light? It’s warm and bright, a nice yellow. Just beyond that light is a door. The door is open, and it will lead you to the people who love you. I cannot promise you that you will see Randall, but I promise you he is safe. Go, Mrs. Overstreet. I can only hold the door a few seconds more. Go to the light and step through the open door…”

  I kept my eyes closed even though it was difficult to do. I wanted to watch the transition, but really, it was none of my business. Transitions were personal and holy, in a way. Instead, I visualized the warm light and the open door.

  All of a sudden, the crying ceased. I opened my eyes and saw that Mrs. Overstreet was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat on the barstool and cried my eyes out.

  I’d done it. I finished the job. In the morning, I would talk to Sierra. I would tell her what happened here and how it all worked out. Eventually, I left the shop and returned to my cozy bed. I went back to my dreams. Back to a place I’d never been to in this life. Working with the light and opening doors for the lost dead had also opened my mind and heart to a whole other world.

  I was glad to be a part of it.

  Epilogue—Patrice

  My hands were sore from last night’s work, but I wasn’t going to complain. As always, I put my personal life to the side and focused on my sister. I had to. She needed looking after. Aggie liked taking risks, in all areas of her life. I was her Jiminy Cricket, her voice of reason. The voice of reason and adulthood.

  What a joke. If she only knew what I’d been doing, she’d never rely on me for sisterly guidance again. I was doing exactly the opposite of what I encouraged her to do.

  “Geesh, Ags. You look rough.”

  “Thanks, sis,” Aggie replied gloomily. Why was she so moody lately? She and Phoenix were back together. They had a great future ahead of them.

  Well, she did look like she had been through the wringer. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut.

  Okay, the truth was these last few months had been rough on her. Between Phoenix and the hauntings at the shop, Aggie hadn’t had time to breathe. I missed her, but our paths were going in two different directions. All the paranormal stuff was just too much for me. It was right up Aggie’s alley, even though it was really taking its toll on her.

  “You really need to get some rest,” I insisted with sincere concern.

  Aggie’s shoulders slumped forward. “You’re right, but all this new inventory just came in. Got to get these pieces in the system and then on to display.”

  “I can handle that. Henri showed me how to use the new inventory software.” I gently herded her away from the counter. “Leave it to me. You go get some rest, little sister. I don’t need Mom fussing at me because you end up in the hospital from exhaustion or something.”

  “Fine, when you put it that way.” Aggie hugged me briefly. She did appear relieved to go steal a daytime nap.

  “You should listen to your older and wiser sister.”

  “Wiser?” Aggie chuckled. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “No arguments. Get some rest. I know where to find you if I need your expertise.”

  “Promise me that you’ll get this done. Boss Lady and Henri have been through so much already. I’m glad they went on their little getaway. I know they need some time before they come back to all this. At least a little space.” Her eyes glistened as she spoke
about the Devecheauxs.

  “We can handle it for them. For now, I will take care of everything. No worries. I won’t even think about calling Detra Ann or Henri. You’ll be the first person I bug.”

  “Thank you, sis. I appreciate you.”

  I shooed Aggie away. “I know you do. Now scoot.”

  The shop fell silent as Aggie’s footsteps slowly faded away up the staircase. I hadn’t worked at the shop long, but now that they had gotten busy, I was glad to be here. It wasn’t hard work, unless we had some unruly spirit to deal with.

  Papers were spread out on the counter in typical Aggie style. She was never one to be organized. The half-completed inventory list had scribbled words, mostly not legible. The only thing I could make out was Beauregard Mansion—Savannah, written on the top of the page. It was apparent from Aggie’s chicken scratch that her thoughts were elsewhere, but at least she got the source of the shipment down before fading off into one of her daydreams. It wasn’t unusual for her mind to wander off. Even when we were kids, she always seemed to be half in and half out of this world.

  Deciphering the other words on the list would have to wait. I would start with this item—if I could find it. The latest shipment from Savannah held many smaller items. Thankfully, there were no statues. Aggie left a heap of half-wrapped items in various corners throughout the already cramped space. Bubble wrap and packing peanuts were scattered across the old wood floor. I grabbed the closest broom to help make a path.

  How can you work in these conditions, Aggie?

  Now that I was alone, I sensed an odd feeling in the shop. You never felt alone here, or at least I never did. The swishing of the broom across the floor was a welcomed sound that cut through the crackling silence. I finally tidied it all up, so I put the broom away and peeked in the shop. There was no one there. Yeah, I could easily get a few items in on the list. All I needed was the camera, a measuring tape and an eye for detail. That had been Henri’s instruction to me.

  As I looked over the items that I needed to list, my own reflection caught my eye. Wow! What a lovely piece! It was a hand mirror, an old one by the look of it.