“You scared the hell out of me!” Bill laughed and gripped his chest.
Byron flashed his yellowing grin and said, “Here’s a few things I came across for the shop, Billy.”
Bill grinned and thought to himself how lucky his brother was at finding such nice items as usual.
“You’ve always been the lucky one. You need to buy yourself a lottery ticket.”
Byron paced the tile floor, silently ignoring Bill’s compliments on the jewelry and watches. Bill knew this would be one of his brother’s quick visits, just by how absent minded he seemed. Byron would be gone soon.
Something was dawning on Byron—a tingle on his skin. Something was happening at the church in the desert. He didn't know what yet, but something was going on. He needed to get out of the shop and on the road as quickly as possible.
Bill continued to appraise the haul, simply adding, “Yes, these are very nice. I'm sure they will sell quickly.”
Byron barely acknowledged that he had said anything before awkwardly replying, “Yes, yes, that will do. I will talk with you about it later. I have some things to tend to.”
He threw his hand up, waved goodbye, and walked quickly out to his car. Bill watched his twin practically jog to his car. It was so strange, but not entirely out of the ordinary, Bill was positive that his brother had a secret to tell, but he never had the guts to ask. Some things were better left unknown.
It seemed like, out of nowhere, his brother would flip a switch. One minute fine, and the next he would be spacy, as if half his mind went somewhere else. He had been that way most of their life, and on the rare occasions that he showed any anger towards his brother, it was the type of rage that Bill was reluctant to incite again.
Bill thought of a story they had been told as children about twins, an old tale that he refused to give credence to most of the time, but on days like this, when his brother up and disappeared, it crept into his mind.
One soul split in two—a dark half and a light. It was said that one of them could see into other worlds, a power that was as corrupting as it was a gift.
Their grandmother would often tell them of such souls. He wondered now if she used the story as a warning. The way she would look at Byron was as if she expected him to confess something to her… his secret perhaps? Why was Bill left out of these surreptitious details about Byron’s life? His grandmother had always said that it was possible for one of them to walk into such worlds… if they found the path.
Did she mean Hell?
Why would his brother be the one given such a gift and not Bill? The old woman knew the answer, but her concern was quite clear. Bill would always laugh at her when she spoke that way. He would tease her when she wasn’t around. It was better than believing such things were possible, and that his peculiar, quiet brother was the one with the ability to do so. Most of the time he was content to play dumb and look the other way. He would lie to Betty for Byron, though his brother didn’t deserve that, and neither did his wife.
It seemed like Bill was being slighted in some way, but as usual he would keep his feelings to himself. He would stay behind in his boring, normal life, with his mouth shut and attempt to sell a few, dusty antiques to vacationers and tourists.
****
Byron, meanwhile, cursed as he pushed the accelerator to the floor. His shaking hands raised a bottle of whiskey to his cracked lips. Benjamin was at the church. He could sense it.
He cursed furiously and punched the dash, begging the car to go faster. The bastard was in his special place. His territory. And he would pay.
The old black car fishtailed as he steered it off the road and raced through the portal. His confidence faltered, and he worried if bringing Allan there may destroy everything that he had worked for years to create… if the girl, number fourteen, would be his downfall.
It had been many years since he made such a grievous error—since nineteen eighty-two in fact—when he had cut that young woman’s arm off as she slipped into the real world.
The shadow hunters had stopped him from chasing her to the other side long enough for a trucker to discover her. What a calamity that was.
He had spent nearly a year in paranoia, hoping that the other wanderers hadn’t caught wind of the girl found in his territory. Luck was with him then, but he worried now that it had all dried up. He looked down to the pistol on the seat beside him.
He would kill them all.
****
Casey and Javier parked out front of Stillwater, weeds jutted up through cracks in the neglected parking lot. Not another car could be seen. The asylum was now abandoned and rundown. This was clear by the state of it. Most of the windows had been shattered and heavy chains held the front doors closed.
She hoped this place could give her the clues she needed to find her birth mother, to know, once and for all, if the visions she had been shown were true, and not just a deep need to explain her mental problems.
Javier patted her shoulder, silently assuring Casey that this was the next step. They checked the building for a way inside. Casey needed to find the records office. Surely there would be information there that could help her understand it all. Javier whistled and motioned for Casey to follow him. She glanced ahead and took note of the closest busted-out window. He made it there first and lifted himself into the opening. Brushing the remaining broken glass from around the opening, he pulled her into the building.
“We need to find anything about a woman named Annemarie… my mother,” she whispered.
“We’ll find her,” Javier said.
Casey and Javier stood there for a moment, taking in the place before flipping on flashlights. In the years of nonuse, it had fallen into disrepair.
Javier thought it looked almost like a horror movie he had once watched, but kept that to himself. Unfortunately, Casey was already thinking the same thing as the beam of her flashlight revealed their surroundings. Wallpaper rolled down the walls to the floor and a loud dripping noise could be heard from somewhere down the hall.
Casey immediately became concerned that any important paperwork could be wet, but she tried not to give up just yet. Javier wanted nothing more than to help her find what she needed, and to get the hell out of this sad old place. Both were unnerved by the amount of vandalism and hoped they wouldn’t encounter any of the people responsible.
Discarded trash and burnt spots covered the floor of the abandoned hospital. Signs that others had come here—to live or just to get high—were everywhere. Graffiti was scrawled across the walls. Pentagrams and inverted crosses. It wasn’t those satanic symbols that bothered Casey, but rather the feeling of smothering hopelessness that radiated from the cracked walls. As they walked, their feet crunched over shards of glass, used needles, pieces of broken wood and other things that vandals and squatters had left behind. Javier stooped to pick up an envelope that had stuck to the sole of his shoe.
He opened it and nodded, “Everyone here was kept in the dark until they were just let go. What a way to lose a job. No wonder it was just left this way.”
“That’s terrible,” Casey said.
“I felt it as soon as we stepped foot in here. Despair, heartache, anger and loss,” Javier said. “When places like this go under, it leaves behind so much.”
“Imagine living here,” she said and her voice broke as an overwhelming sadness swept through her.
Whispering Creek had been hell, but her mother must have been living an absolute nightmare.
“Let’s keep going, find what we need, and get out of here,” Javier said, sensing Casey beginning to break down.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANNEMARIE
As they continued to explore the ground floor, Javier wondered if the top floors would be dangerous to traverse since the building was rotting away. Casey rounded a corner and, amid the dirty mess, she saw large set of wooden doors. On the wall, to the right of the doors, was a dusty plaque on which she could barely make out the word RECORDS.
; Her heart skipped a few beats and she nudged Javier with her elbow, illuminating the plaque with her flashlight to show him. They had reached the doors to hopefully discover the answers she had sought for so long. He nodded his head and hoped to God they would find the information Casey needed.
“Stay alert,” he whispered to her.
He felt afraid, dreading that somehow everything would already be lost before they could find what they were seeking in the records room, that someone had burned the files or tossed them in the trash when the hospital had closed.
Javier felt miserable for thinking that, but he knew what this meant to the damaged girl. If she came away empty handed it would crush her. Casey took a few cautious steps and pushed the door open slowly. A thought crossed her mind. It was very likely that all she thought she was experiencing was nothing more than an inherited mental condition.
Maybe she was losing her mind.
Casey hesitated, anxiety gripping her to the point of nausea. Javier put his hand on her back, gently pushing her onward. She needed to know the truth either way.
The records room, much like the rest of the asylum, was like a set from a movie. Everything seemed to have been left in mid-use, as if the people there had vanished in the middle of what they were doing. Partially completed papers had been left on desks with pens laying on top of them. Coffee cups sat on tables with dried, dark residue in the bottoms. Dust had settled over everything in a thick grey blanket.
Casey walked to a filing cabinet that had been left with one drawer hanging open, the top of which was stacked with manila folders. A set of wire-rimmed glasses was perched beside them.
At first, she was hesitant to rummage through the files, as if she was intruding on some diligent nurse’s hard work she had intended to finish, but after a few minutes, Casey shook the feeling away from her. A note beneath the feminine eyewear had been left by whomever ran the records room. Casey blew the dust away to read it.
“We’re in luck. This note says they were to incinerate all of these files,” she said. “But it appears they abandoned that job when they found out they were unemployed.”
“Is that luck or fate?” he answered. “Go on, let’s start looking.”
“I need to know if this is real, or if it’s me,” Casey whispered to herself and turned back to the filing cabinet.
Javier came over next to her and started pulling the files up looking for Casey’s birth mother’s name. The pair went through file after file, and name after name, but none of them yielded any information on the woman Casey thought to be her mother.
They went through drawer after drawer, digging through the personal information of patients that had resided there. If they had more time, God knows the secrets they could have uncovered. A place like this would undoubtedly have its share, and Casey was certain Annemarie would be included in them.
Casey could sense something urgently pushing her to move forward and faster. Her heart thudded in her chest. They were close. She could feel it.
Javier moved a tall stack of folders onto a dusty desktop, remembering that Annemarie was the name he was looking for. His fingers bled slightly from a multitude of tiny paper cuts from digging through the aged envelopes and files. His eyes kept scanning and searching. He also felt an energy building, calling to him. They were too close now. The file had to be there.
He tossed the unlucky ones aside, shaking his head after each one that wasn’t labeled Annemarie. Desperation swept over them, a sickly feeling knotting their guts. Casey swept a stack of the useless folders to the ground cursing. Javier placed a hand on her shoulder and she took a breath. It seemed to focus her for more hopeful rummaging and they got back to it.
With the filing cabinet nearly empty, Casey wanted to cry. She was beginning to think that there wouldn’t be any remaining information about her birth. Javier sensed her emotions fraying. Casey slumped forward and allowed herself to cry a bit while leaning against the nearly empty filing cabinet. She let a few more tears to run down her flushed cheeks and stared at her shoes, trying to come up with an idea of what to do next.
Javier, however, continued to sort through another small group of files. Not wanting her to see how hopeless he was starting to feel as well, he let a few tears escape, but wiped them away quickly so Casey wouldn’t see him and think about giving up. They had come all that way, hoping to find any clues related to her mother that could point somewhere. Anywhere. A place that her sister might have been looking for as well, an address to a house that her sister could have visited, anything to that would bring them closer to finding her.
Casey had hoped that they could locate her sister’s name, since this was the last place the twins had had physical contact. Maybe something there would provide a clue to where they should journey next…
In the terrible silence, Javier was nearly sent into cardiac arrest when Casey suddenly squealed loudly. Javier jumped in the air where he was standing, as Casey pulled a file from the bottom of the bottom drawer.
“Here it is!” Casey called out.
She was trembling when she brought it over to show him.
“Oh my god,” she kept mumbling.
Her whole body was shaking. In her hand was a faded folder, grimy and dusty, and at the top there was a light scribble of feminine handwriting that spelled out the name Annemarie.
Casey sat on the edge of the desk and opened it.
Javier hated to sound doubtful, or to dash her hopes but he had to ask, “Can we be certain?”
She nodded, with tears welling in her eyes. Weeping silently, she held up a faded photo. It was almost impossible to make out for sure, because it was so discolored, but there before their eyes was a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Casey… and the name on the file was certainly the one she had been looking for.
Javier felt tears form in his eyes as well. The spirit vine had led them to a major piece of the puzzle.
Casey pushed back her emotions, and began to look at the only information she had about her birth mother. She was nearly crushed by the condition of the file. It was almost indecipherable with the dust and grime. The pages were torn here and there and most of the information seemed to have been purposefully blacked out. Despite this, Casey still scanned every page very carefully, and then… there it was. A paragraph in the very back of the file on the bottom of the last page. Listed under the heading Medical/Death, was a paragraph that survived some of the damage:
Patient Annemarie was pregnant and missing one arm when brought here. She rambled daily of having been kidnapped and abused... Obviously showed signs of severe mental illness as well.
She succumbed to blood loss after giving birth to twin girls. The babies were given to separate families. Baby “A” was placed in the home of a goodly religious woman of ordinary means. Baby “B” was placed into the care of a wealthy family who had a biological child as well.
The notes were signed by a nurse named Johnson. Casey nearly dropped to the floor as the voice of the nurse singing to her and her sister filled her mind—the same song her sister had sung through her own body. Casey was shaking uncontrollably. If she hadn't been sitting she would have toppled over onto the filthy floor.
She looked it all over again and again—Annemarie had definitely had twins and she had been plagued with the exact same condition that seemed to be destroying Casey’s life now. Annemarie’s struggle had ended after she gave birth. It made her daughter wonder if she would lose her life at the end of this journey as well.
Casey had to decipher what to do next with the information she had just discovered. The puzzle pieces were there to be put together. She knew that her visions showing her sister in distress had to be real, that the ayahuasca had revealed to her the truth about why, for her whole life, she had felt like half a person.
How could she use it to help her sister?
Casey ran through the visions in her mind, trying desperately to discover where they should turn next. There was no information about Annemarie�
��s family or the address of twin “A”s new home.
Casey vividly recalled seeing an image that stood out—it seemed to be important somehow. During one of the visions that her sister had passed to her, there was something her mind kept recalling—an emblem or insignia of some kind. It gave her chills. Her head swam and she faded, losing consciousness.
Javier tried to pull her up to her feet. Frightened, he shook her, trying to get her to speak.
Casey awoke and shook her head. She called out to him, “No, no… a minute more!”
He still held her by the shoulders, but stopped shaking and pleading with her. Going silent, he waited for her to see what was left in her mind.
Behind her closed eyes, Casey saw an image. It was blurred, so she tried to focus… to make it clearer. After what seemed like an eternity, the image became less blurry. Taking on a soft glow, a symbol finally stood out. From what Casey could make out, it was a crown, below which appeared to be writing—the entire name still a bit blurred.
“A family name?... Something with a J…. Is it Jeskey?” Casey was mumbling now.
Javier made sure to take note and remember what Casey was saying.
“A crown emblem… a family name with a J. It's on a jacket or shirt pocket. It has to do with why she or my sister were trapped… or held prisoner.”
For a few more seconds, Casey tried to hold the picture in her mind, but it was leaving her and fading. She repeated to Javier all the things she recalled from her vision. Taking his notes and the file with Annemarie’s information, they ran to the car.
Casey and Javier were unsure where to go or what to do next. Recalling a market on the highway not far up the road, Javier figured they would go there and ask around for anyone who might know the crown design or the name Jeskey. Maybe they could be directed to someone else who may know. Casey agreed that it was probably their only option. Feeling tears running down her cheeks, she wiped her face. The urgency was nearly overwhelming her.
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