McCann's Manor

by Charlotte Holley

  Kim was at a loss. “Well, thank you for telling me all this. I feel much better now! Should I be staying by your side all the time to keep you from succumbing to his wiles?"

  "I don't have any answers, you know—which is why I'm talking to you about it."

  "Why haven't you talked to me about all this before?"

  "I don't know."

  "Have you talked to John about it?"

  "John would be scared to death if I told him any of this."

  Kim went back to her pacing. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Well, then, what can we do?"

  Liz scratched her head, cocked it to the side. “Maybe we could summon Ben and ask him. Ben probably knows something about Tarrh—or Ptarmigan—or both."

  "Yeah, or we can wait until we get a little farther along on the translations. That way, if we accidentally conjure up anyone but Ben, we can send him back, instead of just having more and more cans of worms to try to deal with. Besides, it's almost two in the morning—we need a little rest before John and Joel arrive in a few hours,” Kim said, looking at the clock on Liz's desk.

  Liz yawned, stretched, put all the drawings she had been working on in a neat stack. “You're right, but I haven't been sleeping very well, so I'm not sure going to bed will help all that much."

  "You're not sleeping? How long has that been going on?"

  "Oh, I don't know; couple of weeks maybe. Why?"

  Kim studied Liz's tired eyes and asked, “Just since we started the translations, is that it?"

  Liz stared back at Kim. “What are you saying?” she queried.

  "Let me think; you aren't eating much, you aren't going out much and now you tell me you aren't sleeping much either. You have been spending lots of time up here all alone drawing pictures of dead people—don't you see any kind of pattern emerging here?"

  "I'm just involved in trying to figure this thing out, Kim, what is the matter with you?"

  "With me? What's the matter with me? You know, for a psychic, you are pretty dense sometimes. You, of all people, ought to know you shouldn't lock yourself up alone with all these spooks playing around in your head all the time. You need to spend some time doing other things. Go to the movies, write letters. Lay off the pictures, already! I thought you were beading up here; I had no idea you were dwelling on ghosts.” Kim picked up the pictures Liz had shown her, shook them in her friend's face for emphasis.

  Liz snatched the pictures from Kim's hand, slapped them back onto her desk, stomped to the door, “You are the one who suggested I draw pictures to clarify my impressions; I was just trying to follow your suggestions. If you don't want me to do that, all you have to do is tell me; I don't need you to yell at me!"

  "I'm not yelling at you. I just don't think it is a very good idea for you to sit up here all alone and focus so much attention on the spirits when you yourself have just said you didn't want to do anything that might bring Tarrh back here.” Kim threw both hands in the air.

  Liz sighed, shook her head. “I don't think he's gone from here, Kim; do you? I mean, can't you feel him here? I think we succeeded in binding him for a while, maybe, from causing us any problems while we try to figure this out, but I don't think for one minute that he's not here, watching, waiting—listening. And maybe he isn't bound at all; he's just waiting until we think we're safe to spring out with some nasty new assault."

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?” Kim asked.

  "For what purpose? There is nothing we can do to banish him at this point; we have to have more information than we have now. Our normal little routine of cat and ghost isn't going to work with this one, and I was just trying to stay focused on the task at hand,” Liz said.

  Kim sighed and hugged Liz. “I'm sorry; I've been spending too much time on Missy and Leonard, too. I guess I'm scolding myself as much as anything. I just keep thinking, the answers are right in front of me and I still can't find them."

  Liz nodded and brushed a tear from her eye. “Yeah, it is pretty frustrating, isn't it? Try as I may, I can't get this whole thing out of my mind. I would rather think of other things, but I can't."

  "When was the last time you talked to Missy?"

  "I haven't seen or heard from her since I channeled her for John. Why?"

  "I was just thinking, she has to be here, too, whether we feel her or not. Otherwise, why would we both be in such a frenzy to investigate Leonard's death? Question is: why haven't we heard from her? I mean, is it because Tarrh has control over her and we have control over him for the moment; is she just satisfied we are trying, or what?” Kim shrugged.

  Liz nodded. “I know what you mean—her absence is spooky, isn't it? You would expect her to be evident right here waiting. This case is way out there compared to any we have had before."

  "I know. We're missing something and I don't know what it is for the life of me. Maybe you're right; we should try to ask Ben, maybe tomorrow. He's bound to have some information we haven't found yet,” Kim said.

  "Maybe we should go back to looking for the other secret passages instead. Ben must have kept journals or something. He may not be at perfect peace right now, but I'll wager he's more at peace than he has been in almost two hundred years. I would hate to disturb him unless we have to.” Liz said.

  Kim stared at her again. “You keep changing your opinion. Why is that? If I say we should do the very same thing you have just said we should do, then you change your mind and say no, we should do something else. What is going on with you?"

  Liz gave Kim a puzzled glare. “I'm tired, Kim; that is my single excuse for anything I may say or do; I can't tell you what I may have just said a minute ago because I'm exhausted. But listen to you! Every time I say anything, you're ready to bite my head off. That's not like you!"

  Kim was about to argue the point, but instead, took a deep breath, backed off. “It's several hours past my bedtime. Maybe, just maybe—I'm a little tired myself, you think?"

  "So let's go to bed, like we said we were going to do, huh?” Liz asked.

  "Okay, but I'm bunking in with you—or else you're going to promise me not to dwell on Tarrh or Missy when you're alone, until this thing with Tarrh is over. I want to know what's going on with you—I'm supposed to be watching your back, you know. I can't do that if you're on one end of the hall and I'm on the other—it's a long hall,” Kim said.

  Liz considered her friend's uneasy expression a moment before she spoke. Kim was worried and maybe even a little scared, an emotion Liz had never seen in Kim in all the years she had known her. “Okay, kid, you got it. Am I acting that out of it, or are you just being cautious?"

  Kim slumped a bit and let out a heavy sigh. “It's nothing I can put my finger on—I would just rather be safe than sorry since we're out of our league on this one. I don't want anything to happen to either of us just because we were so sure of ourselves that we went and bit off more than we could chew."

  "You think we bit off more than we can chew here?” Liz asked.

  "I don't know; I just want to play it safe, that's all. Maybe all the ghost stories John has told us are starting to sink in, or maybe I'm just tired beyond my endurance. Take your pick,” Kim replied.

  "Well, your room is closest—let's hit the hay!"

  Chapter 19

  Liz wandered through a maze of halls and rooms she could almost identify, but not quite. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she had seen this place before, but now it was different somehow, and cold—oh, so cold. She tried to focus, but she could still barely see in the dimly lit corridors she found herself exploring. Someone was calling her name, but when she tried to answer, she only found herself in the dark alone.

  "I'm here,” she said. “Who is it?"

  At last, she saw an imposing silhouette ahead of her, but the light was still far too dim for her to see who it was. She stepped cautiously toward the figure, identified it as a man, though she couldn't make out any of his features. “Elizabeth,” the man said, “what do you require of me?"

>   "That depends on who you are,” she answered, moving slowly closer to him, still trying to make out his features.

  "You have awakened me from my slumber; I would know why,” he said in a demanding tone.

  Liz stopped a few feet away from the man, squinted into the darkness yet again, but his face was still too dim to see. “Benjamin? Is it you?"

  She heard a great sigh then and the face before her gradually became perceptible. “Why do you disturb me?” The man asked again.

  "I didn't mean to; I'm sorry. I was only thinking of you; I didn't mean to awaken you.” Liz said shakily. Something was not as it should be, but she couldn't decide what the problem was.

  He gripped her arms with large, colder-than-ice hands and dragged her closer to him. “You know what happened to me, do you not?"

  "Spencer trapped you alive in your own vault, left you to die of suffocation—you and Timothy,” she whispered. Why was it hard to breathe; was it because she was afraid? The impression of Ben McCann she had earlier hadn't made her feel she had anything to fear from him. Why then, now, was she trembling in fear? She looked around, asked, “Where is Timothy?"

  His laughter echoed through the rooms that were cold as death itself. “Perhaps you only awakened me. What is it you require of me?"

  Something was wrong. Where was the cat? If this were really Ben, Timothy would be nearby. “I was wondering what you could tell me about the secret passages,” she lied.

  "The passages are a riddle; nothing more. If you can discover the answer to the riddle, you will learn everything you need to know,” he said, his grip on her arms never loosening.

  This man wasn't Ben McCann, but who? He did look like McCann, but there was no similarity in his manner to the man she knew as Benjamin. Was it Tarrh?

  Again the echoing laugh. “Your thoughts betray you, Elizabeth. So, you do not believe I am Benjamin? You think you know who I am?"

  Liz swallowed hard, felt her heart pounding out of control. Could he read her thoughts?

  "Is that so surprising to you? You want to know why I do the things I do; you think I am a monster. What do you care why? I am what I am,” the man said simply.

  Liz fought back the building panic she felt as she looked into the eyes and watched while the countenance shifted and the face gradually lost the appearance of Benjamin McCann. He was a big man, like Ben, but his hair was darker, longer and fuller. He regarded her with cold eyes. “Let me go,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Who are you?” she repeated.

  He hissed at her through clenched teeth, shouted, “You know who I am! Say it—say my name."

  She stopped herself from complying, but only barely. She raised her chin in defiance. “No,” she replied calmly. She took a deep breath, waited for the wrath she was sure would come.

  He laughed again and again, his echoing cackles trailing off into nothingness. “Why do you disobey me?"

  "I'm not one to be commanded by anyone as rude or brutal as you,” she spat at him before she could consider the consequences of her words.

  His hands tightened against her flesh; she became aware there was no feeling in her arms below where he clutched her now. He brought her closer to his face, frowned at her menacingly. What was he going to do with her?

  "Ah, and well you should wonder what I mean to do with you, woman. I could be done with you in an instant; you know that, don't you?” he thundered at her.

  She kept her chin high, fixed him with her flashing blue eyes. “You don't know anything but cruelty, do you? Did you ever stop to think kindness might get you more results than violence?"

  "Hah!” he roared, “you think kindness means anything to me? It is less to me than a drop of water is to the ocean."

  She was trying not to think how afraid she was. He would feed on her fear; she knew that. She took another deep breath, willed her heart to slow. “It must have meant something to you once.” She tried to flex her fingers, but had to look at her hands to make sure she still had fingers. Her head ached and the dizziness she had felt so often of late crept in on her again. He was trying to get inside her mind, not just to read it.

  "You know nothing about me,” he growled, “so do not think you can trick me with words!"

  "I'm not trying to trick you,” she said. “Obviously, though, you don't have to squeeze my arms off to prove you're stronger than I. You can let me go; I won't try to run from you."

  He scowled at her, loosened his grip a bit and waited for her next thoughts, her next words. She kept her silence. “Have you nothing to say? You have so many questions about me; are you not going to ask any of them?” he demanded.

  "Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your slackening your grip on me. You speak English well,” she commented.

  He let her go completely, stood back to stare at her. “Your thoughts are not so obvious now,” he observed.

  She forced herself into a yet calmer state of mind, waited to see what he would say next. They studied each other in silence for a few moments. Was it her imagination, or had the room grown brighter? She looked around, found the corridor in which they were standing to be very like the one in McCann's house, but it wasn't the same hallway.

  "You thought the house was McCann's design, didn't you?” he asked almost cordially.

  She shrugged. “I suppose I did."

  He nodded. “I built this house with my own hands. Benjamin found the plans for it amongst my things and took them with him to the New World, along with all my manuscripts. He built his house overlooking the river, where mine stood watch over the ocean."

  "Is that why you are angry with him?"

  "Angry with him? Is that what you think this is about? He wanted to know all the secrets of magic—my magic—but he didn't want to use it the way it was supposed to be used,” he said, his eyes clouding over with indignation.

  "I see,” Liz said.

  "What do you see? You see nothing!” he shouted. “He is the one who summoned me, through the reading of my words. He called me to come to him. And I came. For what? To be thrown back into the otherworld and bound by him to stay there. He refused to use the powers of the house; said he feared them—the weak fool!"

  "Powers of the house?” Liz asked.

  He glared at her, said, “You would like for me to tell you about that, would you not? That is what they all want to know. Then when they learn the truth, it is too much for them. They run from it."

  "I'm not interested in the powers of the house,” she said. “I am there to heal the spirit of the place and those who have died there."

  He laughed, and it seemed to Liz the whole house shook. “You think I believe that? Spencer wanted the power for himself. I could have protected Benjamin from him, but Benjamin bound me. Leonard wanted to discover something no one else could say they knew, but so did Melissa. Together, they unbound me again only to curse the day they had done it. They wanted me to go away and let them have their glory—but the power is mine, no one else's."

  Liz listened with interest. “They unbound you? How did they do that?” she asked. What was this strange phenomenon she was witnessing? Tarrh's face seemed to fade in and out, being replaced occasionally by what looked like a woman; and the voice—it almost seemed to be a chorus of voices. What was going on? Was this Tarrh, or someone else? Before Liz could adequately observe the alternate face, it shifted again to being the man.

  He folded his arms across his chest, shook his head. “But if you knew that, you could send me back, couldn't you? So, you see, if you learn my secret, I will have to kill you, just as I killed them. This time, I am not going back, you understand me?"

  "Yes, I think I do,” Liz said. “But what is so bad about Tir nan Og?"

  "Tir nan Og? Tir nan Og is not bad, but that is not where I have been. I was cast into a dark and cold blackness where no other soul could see or speak to me, there to remain forever. I will not go back there, I tell you,” the conglomerate voice fairly screamed.

  Liz was growing m
ore confused by the minute. She pondered his words numbly, the dizziness in her head coming to a blinding pitch. She struggled to remain standing. He was trying to gain access to her mind and body. He meant to push her soul out into the darkness he had known and possess her body for his own. She was nauseous as she felt her consciousness begin to fade. “Wait, please. I don't want to send you back there. I'm only trying to help the others. Perhaps we can help you as well."

  "What could you do to help me?” he demanded. “You are not even able to defend yourself against my power."

  Liz couldn't think anymore. She could barely speak. Visions of her life were coming before her and she felt as if she were about to die. With her last conscious thoughts, she summoned her angels to protect her, heard his surprised gasp. Then things began to clear for her, and she could speak once more.

  "There must be something I can do. Who cast you into blackness the first time? What did you do to deserve that?” she asked.

  "You expect me to tell you that? You are either very brave or very stupid, woman. I shared my secrets once and it cost me my soul. It shall not happen again.” he said with a glowering look.

  She waited until his anger subsided a bit, edged a step farther away from him and leaned on the wall. Then she noticed it; the low ceiling, the windowless rooms off the corridor. They were in the secret second floor of the house. It was very like Ben's house, but it differed in that the walls hiding the octagonal room from view in Ben's abode were missing from this dream-scape house. She peered into the darkness that would have been the library in Ben's manor, but perceived only an endless black abyss surrounded by massive supports that spanned the distance between the top of the house down into the blackness.