by J. K. Zimmer
He let out a deep sigh and pulled the door open. She wrapped her hand around the diary and slipped her phone under the back cover.
Thanks,” she said, giving him a smile, hoping to pacify his erratic behavior.
He was unmoved. “Follow me, Sophie,” he motioned. “We have the castle to ourselves for a couple of hours.” He led her down a narrow rock path. She looked up, the moonlight now filtered through heavily leafed trees that seemed to stand as sentries to the entrance of the castle. The surroundings were eerie, and a cold chill gripped her. Suddenly the barren pathway gave way to instant beauty. A statue of a man holding a book stood before them. It was surrounded by hundreds of flowers, all nestled around the stairs leading to the front door.
Kian turned and stared into her eyes. “Did the beauty surprise you, Sophie?” he asked almost in a whisper.
She couldn’t get free of his stare. “As a matter of fact, yes, it did. I wasn’t expecting—”
He cut her off, moving close enough that she could see his pulse beating hard in his neck. “There are many things history professors don’t expect, Sophie,” he said, as his eyebrows narrowed and his voice grew louder. “Like how it feels to work your brain into a frozen frenzy for a degree, only to be denied by a self-centered, egotistical female professor. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you, Ms. Hanes?” he asked, edging closer to her.
His sudden outburst startled her. “Kian, you’re right. I don’t know at all what you’re talking about.”
He threw his hands up into the air in front of her. “Of course you don’t, but you will,” he said, his voice shattering the quietude around them. He bent over, grabbing the sides of his face and digging his fingers into his temples, pushing hard in an attempt to reduce the sudden pain. He closed his eyes as he rubbed the sides of his face.
“Are you all right?” Sophie asked, trying to read him.
He straightened. His face was red and wet with sweat. Sophie was taken aback by the unnatural smile on his lips, but he seemed to have regained his composure. “You will experience some unexpected things tonight.” He put his arm around her waist, ushering her forward. “Go ahead, open the door,” he said in a calm voice.
Sophie froze. Her hand on the door. No, she didn’t want to go in. She wanted to run, but to where? She was in the middle of nowhere. The castle that she had so looked forward to spending time in now seemed almost horrifying. She wanted to call someone for help, but who? She was trapped, at least for the time being.
Sophie reluctantly squeezed the handle, and the heavy door eased open. There before her was the atrium, just as Anya had described it in the diary. She scanned the room. Fine paintings of children and country scenes hung on the walls. High-backed chairs upholstered in brown fabric and trimmed in green matched the wallpaper that hung on the far wall. The room was beautifully serene.
Something else was there—a presence. Sophie turned. Kian was watching her, a sickening smile pasted on his face. Could he sense the strong presence, too?
“I’d like to look around the castle alone if that’s okay,” she said, looking up the staircase.
“As I said, you have a couple of hours to explore. I’ll be out in the garden if you need me, Sophie,” he said, turning to leave, watching her as he passed.
Her intuition told her to run, to get to the road and wait for someone to stop and help her, but she couldn’t. The castle was compelling her to stay.
Sophie stood riveted at the bottom of the stairs, her focus upward. She felt an immediate pull to put her foot on the first step. She followed the steps up to the landing and stopped at the first door, her heart racing. This room had once been Anya’s. The diary fell from her hand and lay open on the hardwood. She looked railing to the main floor. Kian was gone. She quickly slipped her phone into her pocket and picked up the diary.
“Three, you said you have seen violence done to those who are helpless, and you have heard their cries for help, but you continue to allow the dreadfulness to occur. Am I not patient with you? Why do I feel as if I am in a tomb with life still in my chest?”
“You ask again of me Anya, but I do not grow tired of your questions. I have promised you safety. And my promises are pure like silver refined more than seven times. Remember that though the wicked strut and perform their evil deeds, it does not go unseen by me. The time will be soon, and you will be delivered. And when your deliverance comes, it will be sweet. But most of all, it will be justly executed.”
“I will remain resolved in your promises, Three, and not ask accusingly of you again. I will remain strong even when I do not understand.”
Sophie sensed pain in the words of the diary. She turned the knob and entered Anya’s room. Standing quietly, she could see Anya near the window, pleading with Three at that moment, in her room. Or was it all in her mind?
“Why did I need to hear that conversation?” she asked, looking again at the open book in her hand. Raising her eyes, she peered into the dim light that engulfed the room, her voice echoing back.
“You struggle as Anya did.”
Shocked, Sophie reached for something to steady herself. Somehow, her hand found the top of a chair, and she gripped it while listening to the sounds that swirled around her.
“Three, is it you?” she asked, speaking once again into the air.
“You struggle with anguish in your heart every day, allowing your enemies to gain the upper hand.”
Her legs wobbled as she touched a small sitting table. “I don’t understand. I have no enemies.”
“Your greatest enemy is within you. Your heart has glazed over as Anya’s did because of the hurt done to you at the hands of another—Trey.”
“What?” She turned, seeing her reflection in a mirror across the room. It reflected what was going on inside of her, yet she continued to speak. “He never hurt me,” she said, struggling with the fear building within her. Sophie’s mind began to race. She was having a conversation with a spirit. She covered her eyes with her hands for a moment. How did Three know about Trey? What had possessed her to allowed Professor Smith to bring her here? And who was speaking to her? “There’s no one in this room,” she shouted, her breathing arduous. She walked hurriedly to the open window, allowing the breeze to sweep her face. Sophie closed her eyes, trying to relax. Her heart slowed, and her mind was able to reason again.
“Oh, but he did.”
She turned quickly, straining to see who or what was speaking in the dimly lit room, convinced she was losing her mind. There was no one there. “Why are you saying these things to me? You’re only in Anya’s mind, only in the diary. You’re not real. You’re only a—”
“He left you for someone greater than himself. He longed for you to experience what he had found, but then, as now, you wanted only to do things your way. You, too, will learn as Anya did. You must trust me. Listen to the words that have gone before you. Allow others who have your best interest at heart to help you. They have been sent by Three.”
The room grew quiet. Sophie’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She turned again to the open window, looking out into the garden. It was draped with a thick, gray mist and smelled of musty, dying vegetation, just as Anya had described.
“Three, Trey, the diary? All these random thoughts marching through my mind like a parade. I’ve got to leave this place.” Sophie started to turn from the window when she caught a glimpse of a man. It was Kian. He was near a fountain, and he wasn’t alone. The water reflected another image. He was talking with someone, but she couldn’t make out if it was a man or a woman. Perhaps someone who lived at the castle? Right now, it didn’t matter. She just wanted to get back to the cottage and talk to Kevin. Her mind reeled. She needed him. She needed to go home. And the diary? The diary would stay in Dool. She wanted nothing more to do with it.
Sophie hurried quickly down the staircase, hearing every protest of the wood under her feet. The uneasy feeling she’d had in the bedroom continued to grow as she descended the stairs. Her senses were
heightened by the castle, by just being inside of the old structure. Her eyes scanned shut doors, mirrors, and antique furniture as she hurried to the main floor. The entire castle seemed to be gasping for breath, or maybe it was just in her head.
Kian was waiting at the foot of the stairs. “You look spent, Sophie.”
Her eyes assessed him. His eyes were cold, reminding her of an icy sea. She tried to look away but couldn’t, and this was all too familiar. She recognized it from the diary, Anya’s descriptions of Sean. Kian’s finely chiseled jaw was set hard like a block of slate. He looked at her with a perverse smile. Was this the real Professor Smith?
“Kian, you mentioned a surprise, but could we hold off on that until tomorrow?” she asked, pulling her jacket closed. “I’m really tired.” Just then, Sophie’s phone rang. Her eyes dropped to her pocket, and before she could retrieve it, Kian grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard enough to cut circulation to her entire arm.
“What are you doing with that? I thought I told you to leave it in the car!” he yelled, yanking the phone from her unzipped pocket.
“It’s just a habit. I carry it with me all the time. Kian, stop, you’re hurting my hand,” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes from the pain. She watched as he threw the phone to the floor and smashed it with the heel of his shoe.
“Come on,” he growled, pulling her by the arm out the open door of the castle. “That little trick cost you, Ms. Hanes!” he shouted. “I should have known you’d do something stupid,” he said, pushing her against the side of the car. “I was going to make the trip to Castle Regal seem like a history game. You know, like you’d play with students? But you had to go and ruin it. Something else history professors are good at.”
Sophie watched things unfold in slow motion, like a scene in a movie she was forced to be a part of. How could this be happening? How could someone like her get mixed up in a mess like this? She could see the professor’s mouth moving but couldn’t make out his words. Sophie touched her face, now damp with perspiration. She began to feel lightheaded, and she was about to vomit. There was a hard jerk on her arm, and she felt fingers dig into her scalp as she was pushed down, hitting the car door as her body fell into the front seat of the professor’s car. Her fear was at an all-time high as she imagined what would happen next. A man sat behind the wheel, but he wasn’t the professor. Everything was blurry now, and Sophie couldn’t think. She tried to figure out who the man might be, but nothing came to her. Who was driving?
Chapter Seventeen
Kevin
Kevin checked his watch for the third time. “Taylor said he’d pick me up at about eight, but it’s after nine,” he said out loud. His pace quickened in the loading area. “Where is he?” Kevin felt his phone vibrate in his shirt pocket. A number he didn’t recognize. “Gates here.”
“Gates, its Taylor. Don’t ask any questions, just listen,” said the strong, firm voice on the other end of the line. “The reception is terrible where I’m sitting so just the facts. I’ve got Sophie in my sight. North of Dool Goregoo Castle. Did you get that?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?” Kevin asked, spotting the rental car area.
“The professor brought Ms. Hanes to Goregoo Castle later than she told me he was going to. That’s why I’m not at the airport. Something’s gone wrong, Gates. This doesn’t look right.”
Kevin stopped, dropping his gear around him. “What do you mean something’s gone wrong, Taylor? Where’s Sophie?” His heart beat fast and hard under his shirt. He could feel the blood pulsing furiously through every artery and vein in his body. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself for letting her take this stinkin’ trip on her own. Kevin pulled his baseball cap off and ran his hands through his hair as he listened. From the start this didn’t feel right, he thought, trying to keep his emotions in check.
“I saw Gipson talking with Smith earlier. They were outside the castle. Sophie was inside alone, best I could tell. Things seemed to be okay until about fifteen minutes ago. The professor went back inside the castle, and minutes later, the tracking device in her phone went dead. Shortly after that, I saw Smith pull Ms. Hanes out of the castle and force her into his car, and then they drove off.
“No!” He hit his head with the palm of his hand. He had just tried to call Sophie. It only rang three times, then nothing. Smith must have found her phone.
“Gates, are you still there? Man, they’re taking off in a hurry. I’m going to lose my reception.”
Kevin heard desperation in Taylor’s voice. “You’re breaking up. Which way are you headed?” The line went dead. “Come on, Taylor, talk to me,” he said, the volume of his voice rising as he felt his desperation getting the best of him. “A map, I need a map,” he said, quickly pulling his luggage to a row of chairs near the Hertz Car Rental port. He tossed his credit card on the counter and handed his badge to the gentleman behind the desk. MapQuest popped up on his readout. “Goregoo Castle, come on, faster, faster,” he said, eyes glued to the screen.
“I need you to sign here, please,” sounded the enthusiastic voice of the attendant. Kevin scribbled his name on the document and grabbed his card and badge. “Thank you, Detective. Just follow the arrows to the car terminal. I hope you enjoy your stay in our fair corner of the world and—”
He was well on his way before the man had a chance to finish his well-rehearsed speech.
Kevin wheeled from the parking lot and sped north to Dool, hoping to find someone at Folks Pub that could help him with a few precise directions. It had been more than three years since he had darkened the doors of one of the oldest establishments in the area. He walked in, surveying the room. It brought back mixed emotions, not only because of why he had been there before but also the fact that Sophie had been there a couple of times that week. Kevin recognized the man behind the bar and pulled up a stool. The man gave him a long stare and then a smile erupted from behind his ample handlebar mustache.
“Aye, Detective Gates. Am I right on the name?” he asked, holding his hand out in greeting.
“Hey, good memory, Derry,” Kevin answered. “And doesn’t your name mean good lover?” he asked with a grin.
“No, you are to be corrected, sir. It means great lover,” Derry said, his eyebrows rising amicably.
“I stand corrected. Derry. Great lover,” Kevin said, smiling.
“What brings you back to our small town, Detective?” he asked.
“I’m searching for someone, and I need some directions. Do you think you can help me?”
“Probably,” he said, filling a glass with fizzy water.
“You remembered,” Kevin said, lifting his glass in a toast to his friend behind the bar.
“That’s right. You don’t drink so much,” Derry said, raising another glass to complete the gesture.
“Your friend, what’s his name?” Derry scratched the top of his head where hair used to be. “Ah, Gipson, yeah, that’s his name. Well he was here today, too. Are the two of you working together again?”
Kevin sipped his fizzy water. “Yeah, you could say that. We just haven’t met up yet.” He looked away, not making eye contact with the barkeeper.
“He was with others today, Detective. He was with an Irish man and an American woman.”
“Yeah, did you hear anything, Derry?” Kevin asked, still nursing his drink.
“No, not much, just a trip to Goregoo, and—” he stopped and left his place to wait on another customer who had just sat down at the other end of the bar.
Kevin watched him. He’d had conversations with him in the past. He could be trusted.
“Let me think,” Derry said, returning a few minutes later to their conversation. “When the young woman was visiting my new singer, Taylor, I heard Gipson and the other gentleman talking about the woman.” He nervously started to rub the counter with a rag. “Mr. Gates?” he asked, looking over the top of his glasses. “Do you know her very well, the American woman they were talking about? I mean, a
re you all friends or something?”
Kevin lowered his glass to the counter, following it with his eyes. What should he tell the bartender? He didn’t know if he had a connection with Smith or even Gipson. But Derry had always been up front with him in the past, on the right side of the law. “I know the woman, Derry, and of course Gipson, but the other man not so much,” he said, waiting for a response from Derry. “Look, I need all the information I can get, so if you know something…”
A wrinkle formed on the man’s brow. He leaned onto his side of the bar. “They talked very low, Mr. Gates.” He gave a quick glance at his other customer. “I don’t think it will go so good for the young woman if she hangs around those two for very long, if you know what I mean,” he said, his eyes shifting again to those sitting at the other end of the bar.
Kevin looked hard at the bartender, recognizing the look on his face, and knew too well what Derry meant. It ate at his soul like maggots on a dead carcass in the hot sun.
“Can you give me directions to Goregoo castle, Derry? The way you’d go if you had to travel there not really knowing where you were going?” Kevin asked quietly.
Derry complied, giving brief directions that would take Kevin directly to the back of the castle.
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help, Derry. Oh,” Kevin pulled a card from his jacket and slid it across the bar, “if you think of anything else, would you give me a call?”
“You betcha, Detective.”
“And one more thing, Derry, if you see Gipson, don’t tell him I’m in town, all right?”
“You got it, sir. And sir? May the luck of the Irish be with ya tonight,” Derry said, watching the detective depart as he would any other paying customer.
Kevin followed the somewhat familiar road of three years ago. That was until the bartender’s directions had him turn onto a narrow, paved county road, one he and Gipson had not driven on while working together to find the three missing women. He remembered Gipson had done all the navigating since he was somewhat familiar with the lay of the land, or so he’d said. Kevin had driven about two miles when he caught the first view of a large white stone and block structure to his right. There it was. The directions were perfect, he thought, smiling at getting his second break of the night. He shut the lights off and pulled the rental halfway into the grassy area of the ditch, parking several yards past the wall, not wanting to be too obvious about his intent just in case someone curious drove by. Opening the trunk, he grabbed his handgun, locking the clip in before slipping it into his belt. The sky was clear and the moon was bright. Maybe the luck of the Irish really was with him.