by Nancy Glynn
“I hear that a lot. Do you have any pictures? My father didn’t have any since…”
“Yes, but when you go upstairs, you’ll find some on the walls. Oh, and you’ll be staying in your mother’s old suite. She would like that.”
“Thank you.” She went to turn but heard Lucy’s words of warning behind her.
“That fire in your heart, Miss Lana, is going to burn your soul. Be careful.” And with that, she returned to her preparation of tonight’s meal.
She stiffened at the words and then slowly continued on her journey. These people really liked to give advice around here. Unsolicited advice, but something told her she’d have to get used to it. It was coming whether she liked it or not.
As she ascended the stairs once again, she caught sight of the large paintings hanging on the walls at the top of the landing. She didn’t remember seeing them there when she first began her flight before being interrupted by James. Another strange aspect of this very old house.
The closer she got, the more ominous these pictures appeared. From the stairs, it looked like the objects were moving, goats with horns and wings, grazing at the grass, gargoyles dancing in the fields. But as she got closer, they stopped, frozen in time.
And then she saw the painting Lucy had mentioned. The one of her grandparents. She stepped closer and was shocked at how much she did look like her grandmother, only she carried a more regal look, classy and sophisticated, carrying an aura about her that told her so much about this woman she had never met.
In that moment, Lana felt proud to be her granddaughter and hoped to make her just as proud in what she had planned for Mr. Red. Her eyes trailed over to her grandfather, and he looked just how she envisioned him at his desk a short while ago. His blue orbs bore through her, but his arm possessed his wife ever so close.
There were other paintings displaying their love for each other. Some with them staring intently into each other’s eyes, holding hands, or even passionately embracing in front of sconces on a dungeon-like wall. Love definitely vibrated through these stone walls. There was no doubt of how they felt for each other, the same as her parents.
Except, her parents died in each other’s arms.
She shook her head to toss the morbid image out of her mind and continue on. Nearly stopping dead cold, a painting stood out that shouldn’t have been there. It was the strangest, most mysterious of them all. A portrait of her mother and father, Daisy and Christian. It was of them dancing at the birthday ball, her in her beautiful green gown and he in his black tuxedo, smiling into the camera, like the one she saw outside.
Then there was another one, this one on their wedding day but not in the church but in the park in the gazebo. This was the largest one with a light fixture beaming over it, spotlighting it.
And of course one of Daisy holding her baby with Christian standing over them, guarding them. It was bizarre to see herself in her mother’s arms, hanging on this wall of horror. When she looked closer, there was a cast of a shadow hovering over her. And it was in all the pictures of her parents. Maybe she was tired from the drive and ready for bed, but not before those tacos.
She walked past a closed bedroom door and followed the path at the end of the hall to the opened door, presuming it to be hers. Next to it was another room, and she had a feeling it was her father’s. That would be for another time to explore. She had all the time in the world.
Her bags were stacked against a wall next to a cherry oak dresser where she could pack her things away. A fireplace stood center, facing her bed with a flat-screened TV above it. A gorgeous chandelier hung over the King size bed with a canopy held by four posters. A portrait hung on the wall over the headboard; it was of her beautiful mother with her misty green eyes full of despair, staring at the artist. Who was the artist?
The lush, mauve carpet cushioned her feet after taking her sandals off. She could definitely get used to this room. It held a mystical quality that would lull her to sleep without the help of sleeping pills. Clicking on the bathroom light, she saw the vanity set her mother had described to her when she was little. Then her mother’s eyes would drift off into some dark memory, leaving little Lana to wander off and play with her dolls.
The thing was, Lana would make her dolls fly to her arms from their crib, not to her mother’s liking at all. Her mom would scold her for using her power so flippantly and to stop using it. Lana would nod and agree, crossing her fingers behind her back for telling a lie. She lied to her mother all the time about stuff like that. She had no choice. She knew this house was calling her, and she had to be ready one day.
She blinked the tears away, feeling foolish for being so weak, and took a deep breath. A knock at the door startled her.
“Miss Lana, dinner’s ready.” Lucy said.
“I just want to wash up and I’ll be right down, Lucy.”
“Okay. I see you then,” she yelled through the closed door.
While running cold water on her face, bent over the sink, she felt a feather fluff against her neck. It felt like something was tickling her. She spun around to find only an empty room. She threw the rag down and strode out into the suite. All those stories her mother had told her were starting to sneak into her mind.
The cross her mother wore everywhere glinted in her memory. Daisy had been buried with it, to protect her beyond this world. Lana would need to rely solely on herself. Not a special cross, just the gift she received from her sassy ninety-five year-old great-grandmother Marissa, her humorous grandfather Mark, and her beautiful mother.
That gift would not be wasted with her.
As she thought that, the fireplace lit up with angry flames licking toward her, the heat of them singeing her skin. She blinked and smiled. “Thank you. I love a cozy fire.” She gave a bravo clap and walked to the door and down for dinner.
The fire roared once more and then died down to an ash.
***
“The tacos were delicious, Lucy. I really needed that.” She sipped from her white wine to wash it down.
“I know you did, Miss Lana.” Lucy sat at the table after wiping her hands on her apron, and took her hands in hers. “I so sorry about your parents.”
“Thank you. I’m taking care of it.”
“Miss Daisy wouldn’t like that. Your father wouldn’t like it. Don’t displease them in their graves.” Lucy wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and then her nose.
“They’ve tried to protect me all my life from…the man as they called him, but I always knew there was something bigger happening. They had their heads stuck in the church with my grandfather, but did that save them? No! He still came for them. After twenty-five years of leaving them alone, he comes now. Why? Well, I’m not scared.”
“Shhh. Don’t say that. I don’t want you hurt too. When William, your grandfather, summoned me, Mr. Red made his appearance to me, warning me to keep my place. So I keep my place…right next to your daddy. He was such a good boy. And the love he shared with his mama.” She wiped her eyes again and looked off.
“It’s okay, Lucy. So, how old—or how long…”
“… have I been here?”
Lana nodded.
“Too long. Long before the first Lana came into our lives. Right after your Aunt Suzanna was taken by Mr. Red, Mr. Stone make his wish list for the staff at Stone Manor after it was built. I’d see Miss Suzanna walking the streets on his arm, looking dead in the eyes. It killed her mother, literally. Their three sons wanted revenge. They went after William but were defeated. He had slashed their throats to defend himself, or so he say.”
“I know. My dad told me the story.”
“You say stuck their heads in the church. You no go to church?”
Lana shook her head. “No. I never felt comfortable there for some reason. Uncle Eric used to tease me, saying I was the antichrist, but that would scare my mom so he stopped saying those things. She’d pray for me all the time, begging me to wear her cross. I wanted nothing to do with something that t
ouched a demon’s skin. No thanks.” She finished her wine in one gulp.
Lucy patted her hands and clicked her tongue. “I pray for you then. You have no idea what he can do,” she whispered as if the devil were sitting right there with them. “Even with your power, he fights dirty.”
That made Lana chuckle. “I’ve seen the dirt, and I’m cleaning it up. He has no idea who he’s dealing with. I mean, he created my mom knowing what would be in her blood, knowing what she could give him in a son.” She poured another glass of wine and continued. “He won’t be getting rid of me so fast. I have what my mom had but ten times more. I’ve used it to her disapproval. She hated it when I did and begged me to pretend I was a normal girl, but Mr. Red has messed with too many women in my life. First, my grandmother Rose who died trying to escape with my mom, then my mom whom he’s tortured for decades, then my older sister Emily, and now me. It ends with me.”
The solemn look on Lucy’s face didn’t change Lana’s mind. To imagine what happened in that foyer at a stupid birthday ball that should have been filled with joy and happiness, to think what Jack had planned for her mother made her head spin.
Lucy cleaned up and bustled around the kitchen in a worried frenzy, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and scrubbing the sink and counters. She turned when she heard the doorbell chime, glancing at Lana who set her wine glass down.
“It’s nine o’clock. Who could it be?” Lana asked.
Just then, James poked his head in the doorway and announced visitors.
“Who is it, James?”
“Your grandfather and Mr. Wessington. They want to see you right away, madam.”
Chapter 3
“Papa! Eric! What brings you two out to this little ‘ol town?” She hugged them each and led them in, relief washing over her.
Her grandfather still carried a youthful glint in his eye, but the cane gave his deteriorating ailments away. Eric was just as handsome as ever, still wearing glasses, but aging quite nicely. At only forty-six, he looked good, with a few grays sprinkled in his sandy brown hair. She used to flirt with him as a teenager, but her mother always nipped it.
Lana knew of their close relationship, how he was like a best friend to her mother, but she always got the feeling there was more than what her mother was sharing. She vowed someday she’d get Eric to admit to her what really happened back then.
“It’s still Uncle Eric to you, Missy. Just because you’ve moved yourself away from your family doesn’t mean you get to be too grown up.” He smiled and hugged her back. “You okay?”
Nodding, she turned to James. “Could you please bring these men whatever they want, James?”
“Yes, madam. What would you like, gentlemen?”
Eric’s eyes widened. “James? I just realized it was you. How the… never mind. I don’t want to know. I’ll just have coffee, black, if you have any. Mark, what about you, sir?” He clasped his hand on the older man’s frail shoulder.
“I’ll have the same. I want to visit with my granddaughter, Daisy.”
“Papa, you know it’s me…Lana. Going senile on me?” She smiled and guided him to the sitting room.
“Oh, sorry. Getting old, I guess.”
“Hush. You’re not old.” She helped him sit as Eric took the opposite chair.
She loved this room with the white marble fireplace and cream-colored upholstered sofa and armchairs. During the day, she imagined light filtering through the bay window, perfect for reading a book or listening to soft music on the stereo system.
James brought a tray with three large mugs of black coffee. “Anything else, madam?”
“No, thank you, James. That’ll be all.”
“Very well.” He shuffled off to some unknown corner of the house to await her orders, probably to his butler quarters.
“Lady of the house, are we? Your dad would be proud. And I can’t believe James is still here. He looks exactly the same. I forgot how crazy this town was.” Eric grabbed his mug and sat back. He squinted his eyes at her with that questioning gaze he always seemed to have for her. “Why are you here, Lana?”
She bent forward, closer for him to hear from her end of the couch, her breath almost touching his face. “Ever hear of the saying Build it and they will come? Well, that’s the gist of it.” She sat back, amused with herself.
“You’re funny. It’s true, though, isn’t? These dreams you had. The house spoke to you?” He sipped his coffee, waiting.
“Yes. As we speak, people are moving into Golden Hills, restoring it to what it once was. Some will have no memory of being anywhere else, and that this was their home the whole time. There will be people who will want me here and people who won’t.”
Mark cleared his throat. “Why won’t they want you here, love?”
“You know why. I’m here to put order back in place, sort of where my father left off and was supposed to do, what his father wanted him to do. I will do that. But there are certain people that will want it to be…”
“Jack Red,” Eric finished for her.
“Yes.”
“How are you able to afford all this? On a teacher’s salary, it’s not possible,” Mark asked.
“It’s all been done for me. When I went to have everything turned on and taken care of, it had already been done. I don’t ask how. I just move in and live here. The house does everything for me. I like it.”
“Well, I don’t! You’re in danger, girl!” Mark stood, shaking.
Lana stood and guided him back down. “Papa, please relax. I’m okay. I know how to handle things.”
“With your power, I presume? I told you as did your mother that it’s not meant for fun and games. She told you how she killed that young woman, Charlotte, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s how it can take hold of you. I killed that young boy in school, and, yes, he was a bully, but he didn’t deserve to die. You need to go see my mother to learn how to tame it. She’ll teach you the way.” He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
“James, can my grandfather have some orange juice, please?” she called out to the waiting butler. She worried about his blood sugar being low from his diabetes.
He appeared and nodded, leaving to fulfil his duties.
“I’m fine. I just want you to hear me,” he said, taking her hands in his. “You’re precious to me.”
“I know. And I do hear you, Papa.”
Eric interrupted. “That’s why I’m moving in with you.”
“What? No way. I don’t need anyone’s help!” She stared Eric down.
“Listen to Eric. He’s a good boy, loved your mother, and now he wants to help you. Let someone help you already, child!”
“But Papa…”
“I came with so I can bless the house whether you like it or not. Eric, can you get my things from the car, please?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll also get my belongings and will take your dad’s old room. Your parents would want that, Lana. You have to know that.”
She sighed and gave in. “I just don’t see the point. I know you’re sad about them being gone, but moving in with their daughter is not necessary. I’m a big girl now. I really don’t need you to do this, Eric.”
“Uncle Eric. And I’m doing it.” He stood and walked out to his car.
“Well, just for a short time, then!” she yelled out. Sitting back, she closed her eyes and sighed heavily.
“Don’t sulk, girl. It’s unbecoming of you. Now help me up and let’s do this.”
She smiled and grabbed his arm, slowly pulling him to a stance. “I wasn’t sulking, Papa.”
“You sulk like your mother used to when she didn’t get her way with Christian, not that it happened very often. He gave her the world. I want you to find someone like that. Promise me?” He caressed her face.
“Promise. But it won’t be a church-going boy, Papa. Sorry.”
“Can’t have everything, can I?” He cracked a smile and chuckled.
“Are you su
re you’re well these days? The church taking care of you?”
“I’m as well as a seventy-five-year-old man can be, I guess. And yes, they take very good care of me.”
The door opened and slammed shut, with Eric rolling his bags in and James running to fetch them like a good servant. “Thanks, James. I can get used to that real fast.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to her grandfather. “How’ll you get home, Papa?”
“The church is sending a car out to get me. It’s a nice service for the bishops,” he said, smiling with pride.
“Yes, of course, Bishop Mark Paul. Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? You can have William’s old room,” she said with a smirk.
“No, thanks. I sense him here still. Have you had any unusual occurrences since arriving today?”
Eric waited to hear the answer as well.
“Maybe just a small one.”
“I knew it! This isn’t a good place to be if you’re trying to heal your heart, girl. I really wish you’d reconsider and leave with us. I can see you’ve made up your mind, though. So, let’s get this going.”
It hurt her to let him down like that. To know that his life was filled with so much pain and loss from the women in it, and she was no better. He just didn’t understand she needed to do this. It was like her soul was stretching outside of her body to be here. This house nourished it in some wacky way. Even if it meant hurting the one man alive in her family still, well, besides Marissa, her great-grandmother.
“Marissa sends her love. She’s worried about you, too.”
“I need to guard my thoughts around you!” she lovingly scolded and kissed his cheek.
He patted her hand on his arm. “And I get that your soul needs to be here. Maybe it’s to finally get rid of that…man. Something your mother obviously couldn’t do. I miss her so much.” He closed his eyes to hold back the tears.
“I know you do, Papa. I do, too. That’s why I need to be here…for her.”
Eric clapped his hands. “Okay, here’s your holy warfare, sir.” He handed over a silver case of contained holy water and palms along with some Sage from Marissa.