Brown Eyed Ghoul: A Ghostly Paranormal Romance Series (The Peyton Clark Series Book 3)

by H. P. Mallory

  “What were you doing?” he asked in a high voice, and his lizard tongue darted out between his lips, placing a fresh gleam of saliva on them.

  Now that I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, a renewed sense of anger boiled up from inside me. Why were they hiding Dorothy? What did they intend to do to her?

  I glared at the doctor. “I was looking for the bathroom and I ran into my friend.” I’d already said that I knew Dorothy so he couldn’t have been too surprised to see me talking to her.

  “You must confine your movements to this end of the hall and resist any urge to explore the hospital,” he said coldly. “The security and safety of our patients is mandatory You cannot violate standard policies. Dorothy is much too ill presently to receive guests.”

  “So you do know her name then?” I replied with unmasked accusation. He seemed instantly annoyed, and his eyebrows furrowed ominously.

  “You should realize by now that absolute secrecy is paramount to my work. I’m not at liberty to give out any of the names of my patients. If you only came to snoop around my hospital, Mrs. Montague, I must kindly ask you to leave.”

  I froze with panic. I couldn’t leave Dorothy; not when she was about to meet her demise.

  “But what about the examination?”

  The doctor studied me for a moment.

  “Eager, aren’t you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and another flick of his reptilian tongue. His suspicion seemed to evaporate. “Fine, we will postpone that until tomorrow. But only because I am a charitable man, Mrs. Montague. You’d be wise to remember that the next time you decide to poke your nose into places where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Thank you,” I forced the words out of my mouth and had to swallow down the accompanying acidity. He took a few steps toward me and peered down his long nose at me, trying to look as menacing as he could which was pretty menacing.

  “If you say anything to anyone about what you saw and heard here today, I can make your life very difficult. Your discretion is not only valued, it is obligatory. A name can be a powerful thing, Mrs. Montague, but it’s also very vulnerable to smearing. Don’t think I won’t take advantage of that if you should proceed unwisely. I understand your husband is the black sheep of his family, as you mentioned, but I imagine you would not want his name further tarnished?”

  “Understood,” I gulped, wanting nothing more than to get the hell away from him.

  “We’ll continue the examination tomorrow,” he said austerely.

  At first his threats were meaningless and silly to me, but the more I thought about it, the more insecure I became. Even though Drake would be long gone by the time we returned to my time, I’d never choose to tarnish his family name. Regardless of his feelings toward his family, I didn’t question the good doctor’s potential for harm, not for a moment. The complacency with which the doctor spoke sent shivers down my spine.

  It was obvious to me that he knew I’d been up to no good when I sneaked into Dorothy’s room. Something was going to happen to Dorothy, something big. I couldn’t just leave her alone, not when I was so close to finding out the true story. The doctor and nurse kept eyeing me suspiciously. For the second time that day, I longed for Drake’s guiding voice in my ear.

  That’s who I needed most of all. Drake. Maybe I could come back with him. I could claim that my husband learned about the baby and wanted to negotiate a fair price. That way he could create a distraction while I searched for any evidence of Dorothy. I couldn’t shake the dread that something unthinkably cruel was about to happen to her, and I blamed the doctor entirely for it. There was no reason for him to hide her. Even though I wasn’t allowed to tamper with history, I couldn’t sit back and let the poor woman be murdered.

  “The driver will pick you up at three p.m.! Don’t forget to bring cash,” said the doctor. “Oh, and Mrs. Montague?”

  Yes?” I replied with a growing sense of apprehension.

  “I needn’t repeat to you that your discretion and caution are essential. Your famous name cannot protect you at all times.” The last sentence was his attempt to intimidate me, and he did; my heart jumped into my throat.

  He eyed me with a sinister expression. Worry dried out my mouth and left a dark, empty hole in my stomach. The doctor smiled, knowing his words achieved their desired effect. He waved at me from the doorway of the room as the nurse urged me toward the stairs. I turned back to see his sharp teeth and tongue as it flicked out to lick his lips once more.

  The shrewish nurse didn’t speak as she led me toward the main landing. When we reached the ground floor, she didn’t immediately go to the entrance. Instead, she stopped in front of a door I hadn’t noticed when I came in. She stood dutifully beside it. I stopped beside her, unsure of why we were standing in front of the door. It didn’t look particularly important, but I was in a house of horrors. I didn’t know if I had the stamina to face any more surprises.

  She nodded toward the door, making it clear I was supposed to open it.

  “What’s in there?” I asked.

  “The powder room,” she said and merely smiled silently and nodded toward the door again. Taking a deep breath, I tentatively reached out toward the handle. “You said you needed to use it, remember?”

  “Yes, yes I do,” I answered instantly as I pulled it open. Inside was a small bathroom. An ancient faucet hung over a rudimentary drain. A toilet stood on the other end. I cocked an eyebrow and turned back to the nurse. “Thanks,” I muttered awkwardly. I walked into the simple bathroom and closed the door behind me. Looking at the scratched and faded mirror that hung lopsided over the faucet, I tried to settle my frazzled nerves.

  I couldn’t relieve my guilt for leaving Dorothy. What if something happened to her while I was away? I recalled the man she told me to find. I ignored the warning that bringing him here would be direct interference with the past and I would be rewriting history, but I couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of my mind. The thought that Dorothy’s disappearance had been voluntary was ridiculous. The girl was scared. Something cruel and unthinkable was about to happen to her and I had no doubt whom the responsible party would be.

  That awful doctor.

  There was a glimmer of a chance that Junior would be my only way to get back in…

  Suddenly, a piercing wail interrupted my thoughts. My head jerked up toward the ceiling and the source of the sound. The wailing was quickly silenced and followed by a sharp, loud rap on the bathroom door. I jumped.

  Turning the faucet on to perpetuate my lie, I rinsed my hands before turning off the water and wiping my hands on my skirt. I exited the room. The nurse greeted me with a curt nod and led me towards the front door. Once there, she removed the key from her apron pocket and unlocked the door wordlessly. I stepped outside into the frigid air. Taking a deep breath, I shook off the anxiety that hung around my shoulders like an unbearable weight.

  Outside, Thomas Dickerson was reading a newspaper in the front seat of his car. His wool coat apparently provided adequate protection against the cold, since he made no complaint at having to wait outside in the icy December air. I watched him crank the lever by his feet again before the car roared to life and we started off down the bumpy drive and away from the forlorn building. I stuck my head out of the window, getting one last look at it. Staring at me from the window of her second story room, I saw Dorothy’s somber face. I only glimpsed it for a moment before she disappeared behind a curtain. My heart ached to leave her behind but I knew I had to get back as soon as possible.

  Morose images filed into my head, one after the other as I scanned the deserted road for any signs of Drake’s cab. But it wasn’t there. Where was he? What had happened to him? Was the other cab driver an accomplice of Dickerson’s? Did he realize all along that we were being followed? An ever-growing uneasiness began to envelop me. My body ached from holding in so much tension all day. I was sure the residual hangover didn’t help either.

  About five minutes down the main ro
ad, we passed Drake’s cab. Relief washed over me and I instantly felt calm. The cab started up shortly after we passed it and the release of tension was almost palpable. I was elated to see Drake but I couldn’t imagine what he’d been doing. Why hadn’t he followed me like we planned? What had happened to cause him to steer off course?

  My thoughts were a jumbled mess on the drive back to the hotel. I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving Dorothy behind but I didn’t have any other options. Of course it occurred me time and time again that by the time I returned there, she could already be dead and gone. That was an outcome I had to forcefully push back.

  When we arrived at the hotel, I nearly fell on my way out of the cab. I couldn’t wait to surrender to the safety of Drake’s strong arms, but I stopped myself because I didn’t want Dickerson to realize Drake and I were together. Instead, I watched Drake exit the cab and make his way toward me on the grimy side street. I walked inside the building and Drake followed me shortly after that, our distance far enough that it didn’t look like he was following me. Seeing the tense expression on my face, he shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

  “What, ma minette? What happened?”

  “Let’s go to our room,” I said, being sure to keep my face turned away from him just in case Thomas Dickerson was still watching me.

  Once we were safely back in the hotel room, I sat down on the couch. Finally, I could allow myself to unwind. The traumatic encounter came back in a string of memories and images that made my skin crawl.

  Drake looked at me with undisguised worry.

  “I saw Dorothy. She’s at the hospital and the baby’s there too.”

  “She’s with the baby? Already?”

  “Yes. I heard a baby crying at least.”

  He nodded, putting the pieces together.

  “I talked to her. Drake, she’s terrified! Where were you? And why didn’t you follow us?”

  He looked concerned; “I was worried that the cab might arouse suspicion. I continued on foot and observed everything from outside, but I didn’t see much. What did Dorothy say?”

  “She asked me to find ‘Junior.’ I have no idea who he is or where to find him, but I think he’s the baby’s father. Whatever we do, I have to get back there as soon as possible. I don’t think we have much time left. The doctor is beyond bizarre and weird.” I took a deep breath. “I think he’s the one who kills her.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Drake stared at me, his expression turning thoughtful.

  “You believe she was murdered?”

  “Well, I don’t know. But I can’t stop thinking how I felt in that room. I suppose it’s possible she tried to run away with the baby… Why? To find Junior on her own? I just don’t know. Regardless, she definitely isn’t safe there.”

  “Mon chaton, you know we can’t save her,” he reminded me gently.

  “But we have to! She’s alive; we can still do something! I promised her I would.”

  “Who’s to say that finding the father of the baby is a good idea?”

  “I need an excuse to go back there before three p.m. tomorrow. If we convince Junior to go to the hospital, maybe I can sneak in. Worst case, Junior could know something about why she’s being kept there. Right now, we’re on the verge of losing her. We have to think of something.”

  “Peyton. You remember what we were told before coming here. We can’t do anything that might change the past.”

  “You didn’t see her, Drake! She’s real. She’s here. And if her spirit is stuck and can’t travel to its proper destination, she must be about to undergo something terrible. We have to stop it!”

  My passion ignited me with a renewed sense of determination. The powerlessness that emerged from my relationship with Drake seeped into my resolve; I needed to change it. I needed to save her if I could. Her baby was doomed to grow up without a mother. Her soul was relegated to spending the next century repeating the same tragic (and still unknown) demise over and over and over again. I couldn’t just watch it happen, I had to do something. So much was out of my hands, but not that. Not while there was still time.

  “Peyton, we can’t change the past, you know as well as I do. Without Dorothy’s death, Ada and Jill might never exist for all we know! We can’t alter history. We’re just here for some answers.”

  He was right, of course. But how could I just sit back and watch her die? Especially at the hands of that horrible, slimy doctor! How could I sit there and do nothing? I couldn’t imagine a worse version of hell. Drake seemed to understand me at least. I knew he didn’t like it anymore than I did, but as always, he was the voice of reason. Still, I longed for a compromise and an alternate option we just hadn’t considered yet.

  He pulled me toward him and once again, I allowed his warm body to soothe me. I’d done my best to keep my distance since our kiss. I’d forcefully plastered my mind with images of Ryan, but it did little to relieve the constant ache that I felt when I was around Drake. The burning desire to touch him—or look at him—pervaded all of my senses. I could still feel his soft kiss on my parted lips when I closed my eyes. But the thought of the doctor’s flickering tongue and his suggestion of other forms of compensation suddenly interrupted my thoughts of Drake and turned my stomach.

  Drake continued to hold me. My thoughts were more like somersaults and I couldn’t handle the growing sense of guilt I felt toward Dorothy. All alone in that empty hospital with no one but a lecherous doctor, a mean nurse, and a newborn baby to comfort her.

  Drake released me and watched me thoughtfully. The fading afternoon light accentuated his curly hair and broad shoulders. He was absolutely beautiful.

  “I suppose we have to find Junior,” he said with a sigh and a shrug as he stretched his long legs out before him. “Even if we just get some answers for Ada and Jill. You’re correct though, there’s no way I will allow you to go backto that hospital, not on your own.”

  I was glad he was finally on my side, and I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him, but I resisted the impulse.

  “I don’t even know where to begin looking,” I admitted. “I tried to ask Dorothy where Junior lives but she was too upset to tell me anything.”

  He shook his head. “She had a boyfriend, correct? I can’t recall anything about the name Junior but perhaps it’s the same man?”

  “Going by a nickname?” That made sense. I couldn’t imagine any decent woman from this time period dating more than one man. Keeping it a secret would have been nearly impossible. I wracked my brain to think of the name I read in the article. “George” I said at last, “George Griscom. But even if he is the same person, I have no idea where to find him. I didn’t look it up when we left and my map just shows the places where Dorothy went.”

  “We’ll have to return to the public records building,” he said.

  I nodded and stomped my foot in a moment of frustration as I took out the pocket watch.

  “Shit! 4:50! They close shop in ten minutes, we’ll never make it in time.”

  I cursed 1910 for not having Wi-Fi.

  Drake was thoughtful for a minute before a dark idea clouded his handsome features.

  “What?” I asked.

  “There is someone who might know where to look.”

  “I don’t think I have it in me to visit anymore escorts or prostitutes or hookers or ladies of the night or whatever the hell else you call them.”

  “Ma minette, your jealousy is quite becoming,” Drake said as he patted my thigh and I frowned at him.

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Oui.”

  “Non,” I argued and crossed my arms against my chest. He was about to speak so I beat him to it. “So… whom are we going to visit now?” I asked apprehensively.

  The smile dropped from his lips entirely. Drake’s eyes had a somber expression that extended to all of his features.

  “My brother.”

  ***

  The sun shone bright orange on the horizon as we pulled up t
o an impressive block of buildings near the west end of town. Anger and confusion dominated my emotional state as I stared at Drake with a deep frown. There was so little I knew about him and I felt more foolish than ever. He knew every aspect of my life. Everything there was to know about me: my thoughts and my history and my relationships; he knew all of it. I had no secrets where he was concerned (minus, perhaps, the depth of my attraction toward him). And yet I knew absolutely nothing about him. His family and the relationships he pursued as well as the sort of person he’d been were all mysteries to me. I suppose some of my anger was directed inwards for not trying harder to press him for details. I’d been so distracted with my own life, I overlooked everything in his—an intensely complicated history that he kept a secret.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said, trying to conceal the hurt in my voice.

  “I don’t,” he replied darkly. Then in response to my confused facial expression, he amended, “it’s complicated, mon amour. There’s much more to it than I care to explain.”

  “You’ll have to try,” I said, swiveling in my seat to face him directly. “I’m not going in that house without an explanation, Drake.”

  He sighed.

  “I was sixteen years old when I lived here. I was also a different person then.”

  “What were you doing here?”

  “My brother and I came to live here with my uncle and his family. My father thought it might toughen us if we lived in the city. But really, we just had more freedom than ever before. I didn’t deal with the freedom particularly well, but Lucien handled it even worse.”

  “Lucien? He was your brother?”

  “Oui.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He’s… he’s much more than I can put into words. I loved him; he was my only brother, but from the time we were children, we wanted different things. When we arrived here, we grew even further apart. He started drinking and gambling, and spending excessive amounts of time in disreputable establishments. My uncle, of course, became furious. He built an empire for himself here and my brother was more or less squandering his money and his good name. Remember when I told you how important people’s images are? My uncle was no better, and just as twisted and dishonest as Lucien, but he, at least, had the good sense to hide it. We came from money and we acted like it. I blush with shame when I remember some of my regrettable actions while I was living here,” he said.