Castle of Sorrows

by Jonathan Janz

  “Don’t insult me,” Elena said. “You wouldn’t think twice about arming one of the men. Chad Wayne was provided a gun, was he not?”

  Jessie dropped her gaze.

  There came a resounding thud from the front door. Another. Someone pounding, but doing it slowly. Like a threat rather than a polite request for entry.

  “Give me Morton’s gun,” Elena said.

  Jessie listened to the persistent thud and told herself it was Ben or Teddy. After all, she had bolted the door after Wayne disappeared. Maybe Ben and Teddy needed back in. Maybe it was Professor Grant.

  Professor Grant is dead.

  No, she thought. That’s just paranoia.

  Then where is he?

  “The gun,” Elena insisted.

  “Wait here,” Jessie said and started past her.

  Elena stepped sideways to bar her progress. “I will not wait here. Give me the gun.”

  “Or what? You’re going to take it?”

  Elena stared up at her. “Sure. I’ll fight for it.” She gestured down the long hallway toward the heavy front door. “What if that’s Marvin? What if Castillo is with them?”

  “Agent Castillo wouldn’t do that,” Jessie said, but even to her own ears her voice lacked conviction.

  “You know he would,” Christina said quietly.

  Jessie glanced at her. “What about you? What’ll you do if I give Elena Morton’s .38?”

  Christina shrugged. “Let’s worry about that later. What are you doing about this?” And she nodded down the hallway at the thudding door.

  Jessie sighed. She held out the gun. “The safety is here. Keep it on until you’re ready to shoot, but more importantly, don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to. And even if you have to, be cognizant of what’s behind your target. Got all that?”

  Elena nodded, held out her hand.

  But Jessie said, “Don’t rest your finger on the trigger. Treat it like the safety’s off even when you know it’s on. When you are ready to fire—and again, only if it’s absolutely imperative that you fire—put your finger on the trigger, aim a little low because the gun will kick and when you squeeze, make it slow and smooth.”

  “Slow and smooth, got it,” Elena said.

  Jessie handed her the gun. “Follow me,” she said and made for the back staircase.

  “Aren’t you going to see who it is?” Christina asked.

  “Yes, but from a safe distance. They might try to shoot through the door.”

  They bustled after her. “So where—” Elena began.

  “The studio,” Jessie said. “It’s the one place with a panoramic view.”

  They began ascending the staircase.

  Christina said, “What if they’re aiming at us? Guys like that are experienced shots.”

  “We’re not going to be dangling out the window,” Jessie said with a wry grin. “You two hang back. I’ll check everything out.”

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” Elena said as they hustled up the stairs. “This place…this whole island…I’ve never felt energy like it. It’s like a geyser through which the flames of hell are pouring. It’s concentrated evil.”

  Nearing the fourth floor, Jessie said, “You think the castle is haunted?” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but the quaver in her voice betrayed her.

  Because it is haunted, a voice in her mind whispered. If any place in the world is haunted, it’s Castle Blackwood.

  “Haunted isn’t a strong enough word,” Elena said. “I’ve dealt in the supernatural my entire life. Even as a child, I was in contact with many types of spirits. Beings who were never even human. Creatures who make the darkest imaginings seem harmless.”

  They were nearly to the fifth floor, only one more to go. Below them the slow thudding went on. Whoever it was must have a bloody fist.

  They passed the fifth floor landing. Jessie tried not to remember the way Nicky’s dead body had flopped into the corridor, Marvin’s squeal of anguish.

  “What’s here is worse than anything I’ve ever encountered,” Elena said.

  “Shut up,” Jessie said in the studio entryway. “You two stay here. I’ll check out the front door.”

  “We’re not staying anywhere,” Elena said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Will you be able to see from up here?” Christina asked.

  “We should,” Jessie answered. “The porch isn’t covered. We’ll be looking directly down at whoever it is.”

  They moved swiftly to the front of the studio, Elena on her right and Christina just behind her. When they neared the window, Jessie put a finger to her lips to remind Elena to keep her mouth shut. She’d begun to like the little Russian woman, but there was such a thing as too much spunk.

  Jessie reached the window box, knelt on top of it and slowly brought her face to the clear glass pane.

  A tall man with a wild tuft of blond hair stood on the stoop, his fist bludgeoning the door in slow, metronomic thuds.

  It was Griffin Toomey. The one who’d shot Morton. She itched to lean out over the sill, take aim and put one in his brain. But with the gusting wind and the rain she didn’t trust herself to make the shot.

  Quit kidding yourself, the voice in her head taunted. You can make that shot in your sleep. You’re just scared of him.

  Jessie compressed her lips. She hated the voice but knew it carried at least a kernel of truth. She might not get a better opportunity than the one she had right now. She reached out, began to crank open the casement window. They were nearly a hundred feet away, Jessie estimated, and Toomey seemed immersed in what he was doing. The chances of him noticing her were small.

  Slowly, she cranked the window. She brought her head forward, leaned out slowly over the lawn. The entryway was slightly to her right, which allowed her a partial view of Toomey’s face.

  What she saw did not reassure her. Jessie had seen many images of drug addicts, and had even made arrests while on a case in Phoenix with Sean Morton. The look on Toomey’s face was very much like the zoned-out expression she’d seen on the faces at the Phoenix bust, but with Toomey there was something more, something purposeful and robotic about his movements that unnerved her more than his drugged expression did.

  Abruptly, Toomey stopped thumping and just stood there.

  Elena asked, “What’s he doing?”

  Jessie fluttered an impatient hand at her. Toomey took two steps back from the door, his eyes still straight ahead. It was at that point that Jessie spotted the gun in his other hand. And then everything happened very quickly.

  Eyes never leaving the door, Toomey swung the gun up and fired at them. There was a feeling in her scalp like she’d been stung by a thousand wasps. Gasping, Jessie stumbled back into Elena. The second shot pulverized the lintel, and then the bullets whined and pinged four times in quick succession, the castle façade absorbing the rest of the punishment. Dumbfounded, Jessie fingered the top of her head and was shocked at the viscous mass of gooey hair she encountered.

  Christina was watching her, horrified. Elena was talking to her, asking her if she was okay.

  Sure, Jessie thought. The top of my head feels like raw hamburger, but absent of that I’m right as rain.

  Then Jessie heard a muffled crashing, the shouts of male voices.

  Chapter Nine

  Elena was dragging Jessie to her feet. “Let’s get to one of our rooms,” Elena said.

  “That’s insane,” Christina said. “We’ll be trapped there. It’s just a matter of time before they break in.”

  Shambling together through the studio toward the back staircase, Jessie tried to think straight, but her thoughts were a disjointed stream of bizarre images. Toomey moving like some kind of sinister robot. Rubio’s hideous jack-o’-lantern grin. Jorge’s savaged corpse. Nicky Irvin’s obscene leer. And beneat
h it all, noises from that horrible night thirteen years ago replayed in her head like the discordant notes of some infernal music box.

  Elena was shouting at Christina. “You know this place better than they do. Is there anywhere they won’t—”

  “Of course!” Christina said. “The walls.”

  “The what?” Elena asked as they hustled down the staircase. Jessie tried to keep up, but her legs felt sluggish, as though she were slogging her way through a deep marsh.

  “There are passageways in the walls,” Christina explained. “It’s how I knew you were—” She cut off abruptly, shook her head. “Oh, just follow me.”

  Christina pulled ahead of them as they hurried into Christina’s room. Dimly, Jessie heard male voices. They were shouting at each other, one of them telling the others to keep it down for chrissakes. It sounded like Rubio and Marvin, but that quieting plea…could that have been Troy Castillo? She thought it was.

  Christina pushed the wall and the secret passage appeared. Did the forensics team even know of the passageway? Jessie wondered. They hurried inside, and Christina hauled the door closed behind them. They were properly hidden now, Jessie knew. But that didn’t mean they were safe.

  What if Griffin Toomey knows about the passageway? the wheedling voice in her head whispered.

  Of course he doesn’t! she snapped. If the others don’t, he won’t either. He’s just a lackey, after all, how would he know more than Marvin himself?

  Did you see the way he shot at you? He didn’t even look.

  Jessie’s throat constricted, and she was instantly, painfully reminded of her injured scalp. As she followed Elena down the dark tunnel, she brought her fingers up to inspect her wound. Not nearly as bad as she’d thought before, but still a mess and something that needed attending to. When and how that would happen were questions for another time, however, because now they were in danger of being killed, and a grazed scalp was the least of her worries.

  Elena barked her elbow on an outcropping pipe, sucked in breath, and Jessie realized two things. One, they had pulled even with a restroom. Two, there was enough light for her to see the other women. Not much, but enough. So where was it coming from?

  A moment later her question was answered. She peered into one of the bathrooms via a peephole situated within a shower stall.

  Jessie looked around. “Where does this lead?”

  “These tunnels snake around the entire castle,” Christina said. “I’ve never explored them all, but my son once did, and he said there are ladders going from floor to floor.”

  There was a silence as they considered this. Jessie listened for Marvin and his men, but at the moment the only sound was the distant roar of the storm.

  “We could take the ladders down, make our way out of here,” Christina suggested.

  Elena scowled. “And let them have the castle?”

  “I’m talking about finding somewhere safe,” Christina said.

  “And where is that?” Jessie asked. “If the castle isn’t safe, where is?”

  “The boat?” Christina answered.

  “Ben and Teddy went to check on the boat,” Elena reminded her, “and they haven’t come back.”

  They fell silent as Elena’s words sank in.

  Christina seemed to bounce in place. “So we just…what? Wait here? Hope they don’t find us?”

  “Let’s surprise them,” Elena said. “Let’s wait until they get near the master suite—”

  “We only have two guns,” Jessie interrupted, “and we have to assume Castillo’s on their side.”

  “Shit,” Elena said.

  “Let’s just find the ladder,” Christina said and had actually started to move again when they heard a male voice call, “You say they’re up here, Griff?”

  They froze. Jessie glanced at Elena, whose nerve seemed to have abruptly dried up. When Jessie looked at Christina, she sensed an even deeper fear.

  “Hold on,” Toomey answered.

  Jessie sidled past Christina and peered through the shower peephole. It was actually a rectangle of tinted glass about four inches wide and two inches high. They hadn’t moved far, so Jessie assumed this was Elena’s bathroom.

  Footsteps in the hall outside. Against Jessie’s arm, Christina’s body shuddered. Jessie put a hand out, took Christina’s.

  The footsteps grew more distinct before stopping.

  “You sure they’re here?” Marvin asked.

  Judging from the clarity of the mob boss’s voice, the killers were inside Elena’s bedroom now.

  Rather than answering, the footsteps started anew, coming closer, closer, then stopping. From where Jessie watched, she could only see the translucent blocks of glass that comprised the shower stall. Thus far the lights weren’t on in Elena’s bathroom, but Jessie thought she’d be able to discern any shapes moving on the other side of the glass wall anyway.

  “The bitches in here or not?” a raspy voice demanded. Rubio, Jessie thought. There was no mistaking that voice. If Satan’s voice were ever caught on tape, Jessie decided he’d sound very much like Raymond Rubio.

  “Give him time,” a different voice said. Marvin.

  A long silence. As they waited, Jessie could hear the other women’s respiration. She hoped the men couldn’t hear it too.

  “Man, what’re we waitin’ for. They’re probably escapin’ out the back or something.”

  “Raymond, shut the—”

  “What if they take our boat? How’re we gettin’ home then?”

  “If you say another word, so help me I’m gonna—”

  “Where’s he goin’ now?”

  Jessie’s heart dropped. Not only were the footfalls growing more distinct, but she thought she could see a shadow swarming on the glass block wall.

  Light flooded the bathroom.

  “Oh no,” Christina whispered.

  Jessie squeezed her hand to quiet her. Elena had moved up on her other side to peer through the slit of window. There was definitely someone just beyond the shower stall, a tall, slender shape moving slowly but purposefully toward the open shower entrance on the right. Jessie remembered the way Toomey had shot her without sighting his target. Almost like he was…what? Being controlled by someone else? Someone far more dangerous? Someone with a thorough knowledge of Castle Blackwood and its secrets?

  Toomey stepped into the shower stall.

  Elena stood rigid. Christina sucked in air, the hand clasping Jessie’s like a vise.

  Toomey was examining the wall, which, if Jessie remembered correctly, appeared from his side like large blue tiles of beige and navy blue, only one navy blue tile contained a two-way mirror. But Toomey couldn’t know that.

  Could he?

  “Look at him, boss,” Rubio said. “What’d I tell ya? Skinny bastard’s checkin’ out the shower instead of findin’ the women.” More shadows moved along the glass behind Toomey. Rubio called out, “Hey, Griff. There ain’t no naked ladies in there now!” This was followed by a gust of lunatic laughter, the sound almost as chilling as the sight of Toomey’s zoned-out eyes scrolling over the surface of the wall, doing slow vertical sweeps almost as though he were honing in on their whereabouts.

  That’s impossible, Jessie thought desperately. He can’t—

  Toomey stared straight at them.

  Jessie recoiled involuntarily. Christina uttered a strangled moan. Elena didn’t say a word, but in the enclosed space Jessie felt the medium’s body shaking.

  Without looking away, Toomey said, “They’re right there.” And pointed at them. And though Jessie wanted to look away from that accusing index finger, she couldn’t move at all, could only remember a movie she’d once seen with Donald Sutherland. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. When the body snatchers spotted you, their mouths unhinged, their eyes became full moons, and they pointed just like Toomey was poin
ting now. And even if he wasn’t screeching the way the body snatchers did, Jessie had never been surer of anything in her life than she was of the fact that something else was inhabiting Griffin Toomey’s body, something

  (Gabriel)

  ancient and monstrous and craving nothing less than blood and ripped flesh and the souls within, and then the men were talking in raised voices, Toomey telling them exactly how the women had gotten into the passageway. There were heavy footsteps hastening out of the bathroom, Toomey’s eyes rolling completely white, holding Jessie transfixed, though Elena was tugging on her arm now to get her moving.

  Light flooded the tunnel behind them and jolted Jessie back to her senses. Marvin or Rubio or both were coming now. Jessie got moving, Elena and Christina close behind her.

  “Oh yeah. This is it,” Rubio said in a voice that echoed down the passageway.

  “How you know?” Marvin asked.

  “I smell their pussies,” Rubio answered.

  “Oh my God,” Christina whimpered.

  “Keep moving,” Jessie said.

  They hurried deeper into the darkness.

  “Marvin’s men are up there,” Ben said.

  “Man, how the hell do you know that?” Teddy demanded.

  “I can’t explain it,” Ben told him, “but regardless of where they are, we need to get in there too, right?”

  Teddy looked away, but he didn’t argue.

  Keeping low, they hustled out of the forest and made it to the front door. Ben tried it, but someone had barred it from the inside.

  “The back?” Ben asked.

  “They locked this one, they’d lock the other ones,” Teddy said.

  Ben fell silent, agonizing.

  “We could break a window,” Teddy suggested.

  Ben nodded, dashed around to the east side of the castle with Teddy flanking him on the inside. The kitchen window seemed too high, the ground dipping a bit there, but the dining room window…

  “Looks like someone already had your idea,” Ben said.

  Teddy eyed the shattered window. “We’re gonna have another shootout, aren’t we?”

  Ben nodded, reached up and began hauling himself through the jagged frame. “But at least,” he grunted as he climbed through, “we’re not going to be taken by surprise this time.”