by James Hold
***
I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because of jetlag or the fear of making a complete fool out of myself. More than likely, it was because I couldn’t shut the damn whispers up. I had left the mirror packed up in my overnight bag and even after I moved it into the armoire which served as my closet, I could still here them. I tried to block them out. I tried to imagine my mental door. Nothing was working. I finally gave up after burying my head underneath every pillow and blanket I could find. I climbed out of bed, threw on my clothes from the trip to Kansas before heading downstairs.
There was a small lounge area by the front door decked out in big fluffy couches and chairs. Since the nights were getting colder out here on the plains, someone had been kind enough to light a fire in the fireplace against the far wall. I stopped, curling up on one side of the biggest couch with a sigh of happiness. The whispers were silent down here. There were no mirrors decorating the walls; only cheap paintings in even cheaper frames. It was peaceful.
Quiet.
I stared at the flames jumping around in front of me, willing them to ease my troubled mind. I decided to go over everything Cyrus had taught me so far. He was so worried about what could happen when we went to the farmhouse tomorrow. Me? I was more worried about what had already occurred. I wanted nothing more than to forget about the past few days which kept haunting me.
“Can’t sleep?” Cyrus stepped out of the shadows to hand me a silver flask. “This should help.”
“Liquor?” I looked up to him in surprise as I accepted the container he pressed into my hand. “I would never have suspected you were a drinker.”
“It’s not just any liquor.” Cyrus gave me a look of horror that made me laugh. “You are holding the ambrosia of the gods in your hands.”
I took the top off and sniffed. “Whiskey?”
Cyrus grinned as he perched on the armrest of the chair by my head. “Any strong liquor will do. They don’t call them spirits for nothing. I happen to like whiskey. Go on. Try it.”
I gestured for him to sit next to me as I took a swig of the amber liquid. The whiskey burned like hell as it went down. I choked, passing it back to him as quickly as I could.
“How in the world do you drink that?” I managed as I caught my breath between coughs. “It’s disgusting.”
“Perhaps so. Or perhaps you haven’t given it a proper chance.” Cyrus smiled as he took a sip. “We all need something to quiet our ghosts, Little One. I am no different.”
He passed the flask back to me. “Now tell me what troubles you. The spirits?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I swallowed another gulp as our drinking session officially began. The fire in my throat went down easier this time. “If I’m honest, I’m trying to make sense of this Sibyl business.”
“There is no point in trying to find logic where it doesn’t exist.” Cyrus accepted the flask. “And believe me, there is no logic where the gods are concerned.”
“I don’t believe in the paranormal, Cyrus. Or at least, I didn’t think I did.” I took my turn to drink, turning the flask in my hands. “Now, I’m not sure what to believe. I’ve seen people who shouldn’t exist. Not here; in Heaven or Hell, maybe. But not here.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the saying there are more things between heaven and earth…”
“Than we can understand.” I finished his sentence with a nod. “I have. I’ve never put much stock into it though.”
“If you didn’t believe, then why are you involved in this television show?” Cyrus was studying me in the firelight as if I were a puzzle he needed to solve. “That is what I can’t make sense of.”
“Elliot.” I answered before I could stop myself. “No, it wasn’t because of Elliot. I needed the money the production company offered me.”
“No, Little One,” Cyrus smiled and sipped. “I believe you are here because of your beloved. Were you afraid of losing him?”
“What do the dead have to say?” I decided to change the subject. I didn’t want Cyrus to see me as some lovesick college kid hanging onto her crush. So I turned the conversation back onto the subject he knew the most about. The same one I knew the least about. “I mean, once you die, your worldly troubles should fall away, right? What’s the point of coming back?”
Cyrus was right. The more I drank, the easier it became to swallow the whiskey. I was drinking too much and I knew I would pay the price tomorrow. I didn’t care. We continued to pass the flask between us until it was empty, alternating between staring at the flames and each other. Cyrus finally responded once the whiskey was gone.
“Life is a difficult thing to let go of, but the memories of that life are even harder to relinquish. No one can truly determine what the spirits will say. The most tortured souls often hold their secrets close, but once they share them, they are able to find peace. You will learn some horrible things, Eva. I want to warn you so you can be prepared.”
“It can’t all be bad. Do you have anything funny to go with all your melancholy?”
“During the time of the second Sibyl, one spirit wished for her to find the gold he had hidden from his family. He wanted to make sure it was still there so he could reclaim it if he were ever reborn. Believe me when I say that I spent two weeks trying to find his damn treasure. It wasn’t there.”
I raised an eyebrow as I asked the only thing I could think of. “How many Sibyls have there been, Cyrus?”
“You are the seventh Sibyl.”
There had been seven Sibyls. I wanted to ask him questions about these women. How did they survive their role without going insane? Did any of them actually want to talk to the dead? I wanted to know, but the whiskey was making it difficult to concentrate.
I decided to focus on what he said about finding peace instead of my questions. I could understand the need for peace. I curled up against Cyrus’ side and laid my head on his knee. He stiffened, but I ignored his reaction. I was sure it was the liquor making me so friendly, but I couldn’t stop myself or the words I found myself speaking.
“I am glad you are here with me, Cyrus. I think we can be good friends despite your creepiness.”
“I am still creepy?” Cyrus relaxed and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Perhaps creepy is a part of my charm.”
“You never did finish telling me your story.” I smiled to myself. There was something about Cyrus I found comforting. He was so solid; so focused on his position as my keeper. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything I could about him. “Are you drunk enough to finish telling me your secrets?”
“I don’t get drunk. It’s not possible.” Cyrus shifted beneath me. I couldn’t help but move too. I moved just enough to look up at him without removing my head from the spot I’d claimed. After a few moments, he continued. “You are the strange one, Eva. None of the others have been as curious about my past as you are.”
“I told you, we’re going to be friends.” I frowned. “Unless there is some rule you haven’t shared with me about Sibyls and Keepers can’t get to know each other.”
“No.” Cyrus shook his head. I felt his hand brush against my hair before he pulled back. “I don’t believe such a rule exists. I will share my past with you, Sibyl. Just as the rest of the dead do.”
“You’re being creepy again, bringing up the dead and all.”
Cyrus chuckled. “Do you want to hear this or not?”
“I do. I’m infinitely curious. You left off where you were first cursed by Apollo.”
“Yes, I remember.” Cyrus fell silent for a moment before he began. “As I said, I became tied to Delphine. As the weeks passed, men from my regiment came to Cumae searching for me. Despite my newfound status as her guard, Delphine didn’t trust me. She barricaded herself into her rooms. My men passed me by without ever learning of my fate.”
“Did they consider you a traitor? A deserter?” I didn’t mean to interrupt him, but I wanted to understand. “Were you ever able to speak with them again?”
; “No, they never found me.” Cyrus’ features looked twisted in the shadows. “I was given up for dead. As the years passed, I grew to hate the role thrust upon me. How could I not? I had no freedoms whatsoever. Delphine did not leave her father’s house unless forced to. She despised the looks she received from the townspeople. I was always behind her, acting as her shadow. Many labeled me her slave, and she did nothing to dispel those beliefs. Yet, her life was peaceful. Boring. It was torture for a man who had strived in the fires of war.”
“Didn’t you say she was ran out of town?” I studied the flames lighting the room around us. I tried to imagine what his world had been like. Cyrus was ancient. You didn’t have to be a psychic to see the age in his eyes.
“Indeed she was. Delphine had seen her hundredth birthday pass when the fear became too much for those who knew of her. It was in the spring when the mobs gathered to put an end to her life. She had survived in the comfort of her home for so long, she became convinced the world had forgotten about her. It hadn’t. As the mob crashed down her gates, I did the only thing I knew to do.”
“You fought them, didn’t you?” I turned just enough to see his face. “You must have, being her guard and all.”
“I wish I could say I had been so brave, Little One.” Cyrus smiled down at me. “But alas, no. A true warrior knows which battles to fight, and which to avoid. I pulled Delphine down into the servants’ quarters. The men who had come for her head looted the wealth her parents had left behind as they searched for us. They called out horrible things, promising to send her down to Hades before the night was through.”
“If the two of you were truly immortal, why didn’t you fight them? I don’t understand.”
“I would have fought them – Delphine as well. But it would have been for naught. Our days in Cumae were over. We both realized it. Killing the men who had attacked her house that night would have been a waste of Greek life. Since we had a method to escape, I saw no reason to send them to their deaths.”
“So you’re a big softie after all.” I had returned to my original position of resting on his knee with a smirk. “How did you escape?”
“A servant passage.” Cyrus chuckled as if the memories he were recalling were funny to him. Perhaps they were. “It was the easiest thing in the world. Delphine dressed in the clothes of a male servant. We slipped out into the night, using the light from the fires set in her house to find our way out of town. We returned to the forest where we had been damned. Though I hated her, I came to respect her. Here was a woman who had known nothing but luxury during her existence, yet she discarded it with such ease. Delphine accepted her banishment to the forests, adapting as I did to life in the wild.”
We fell into a comfortable silence then, watching the flames. Every once in awhile, he would stroke my hair and I was sure he was just as wrapped up in his own memories of his life as I was in the story he had told me. I found it to be very sad.
I don’t know how long we stayed on the couch, but soon, Cyrus was shifting beneath me. “You must return to your room, Eva. Whiskey can be wicked if you don’t sleep it off.”
I let Cyrus lead me up the stairs, finding my own steps unsteady. He was right. I needed sleep if I was going to survive my first day as a ghost hunter. As we crossed the threshold into my room, I found the whispers had gone silent.
I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
“Eva, you have got to sit still.”
Jonathan Ford was two seconds away from smacking the back of my head with his hairbrush as I adjusted in my chair for the umpteenth time. Not that I could blame him. He had been sent by Theia Productions to make sure I fit the role I was determined to play on our show. Connor had sent in a small army along with him. There were three people from Wardrobe along with countless people to set up the old farmhouse. I swear, he sent the entire Hair and Makeup department to make me more presentable which is where Jonathan fit into the picture. The man was a perfectionist with a vision; this is why he was getting so frustrated with me..
I wasn’t being very helpful.
“Fine.” I groaned as I slumped down into the chair. “I’ll behave.”
“Sit up.” Jonathan pulled at my shoulders until I complied. “There’s a good girl.”
He made small talk about his life in L.A. as he danced around my chair with scissors and potions meant to make my blonde hair even lighter. Thirty minutes of my life I would never get back passed as he worked. To be fair, I was taking the time to read up on the history surrounding the old farmhouse. It wouldn’t look very professional for me to be meeting with the family of the victims and not know the first thing about them.
I was struck by the sadness of the story. Samuel Tillotson had been a farmer; a good man who simply snapped after being confined in his small house for months after a massive blizzard hit Black Hollow in January of 1876. The newspaper clippings sensationalized the story. Journalists at the time claimed Samuel found his wife in bed with another man. None of these claims had any sources, nor did they make any sense.
If you are trapped in a small house during one of the worst snowstorms in history, how can people get to you? How could a lover trek through the ice undetected? And as far as the possession, well. I’d seen the nightlife Black Hollow had to offer when we pulled into town yesterday. There wasn’t any. I’m sure there was even less in 1876.
I switched my focus to the police report the guys in Research had managed to get a hold of. The handwriting was tiny and it was extremely difficult to read. I could make out how Samuel’s body was found with a knife buried in his chest. Catherine’s bones were piled up next to him. They couldn’t determine how long they had been there due to the frozen temperatures. The police were quick to note it was an apparent suicide, although no note was found and it was unclear whether Catherine had been murdered or died from natural causes during the blizzard.
The researchers had found us a good story. One filled with the promise of vengeance or, at the very least, madness. I chalked one up for them as Jonathan continued his assault on my poor hair. I must have made a face because the man’s chatter was interrupted by Cyrus chuckling from his perch by the door.
“You look miserable, Little One.”
“That’s because I am.” I grumbled as I blew at the strands covering my right eye. “You would be too if you were in my position.”
“Indeed I would.” Cyrus smirked. “Then again, I know better than to put myself in such a situation.”
“Just be quiet.” I pouted as he continued laughing at me. Jonathan huffed despite the fact my words weren’t meant for him. He fell silent as well as he tugged my newly bleached hair into thick pink rollers.
“There. It’s not much, but it is all I can do for now.” Jonathan clapped his hands as a group of women began to swarm around me with tackle boxes filled to the brim with creams meant to highlight my natural beauty.
I hated each and every one of them.
“Cyrus, go find Elliot.” I managed as a perky assistant brushed a thick paste across my forehead. “Tell him I want to see him right this instant.”
“I can’t.” Cyrus shrugged. “Bound to you, remember? I’m not allowed to leave my post.”
“You can’t or you won’t because you’re enjoying this too much?”
Cyrus gave me a lopsided grin. “Both?”
“Just go. No one could get past this group if they wanted to.”
“Very well.” Cyrus stood with a sigh of annoyance before disappearing into the shadows. He would have to learn how to use the door like normal people if he was going to act like a bodyguard. Well, a human one at least.
“Eva, what’s wrong?”
Elliot came through the door in a rush, his own face covered in the same goop being applied to me. “Cyrus said you needed to see me. It was important.”
“It is important.” I huffed, brushing aside the pair of hands tilting my chin upward. I was not rewarded for my efforts because th
ose hands returned, the woman muttering about difficult divas with dark circles as she continued her work. “Can you explain to me why I’m getting assaulted with hairspray and foundation? I thought we were just doing interviews today.”
“We are.” Elliot’s tone was full of the laughter he was trying so hard to contain. “Joey is going to be filming them though. Without the make up, you’d look like the dead underneath the lights.”
“Poor choice of words, Eli.” I forced my head straight despite the woman’s attempts to keep me in place. “We are starting filming? Today?”
“Yeah. The sooner the better. Joanna is meeting us over at the house in two hours. You’ve got to be ready.”
The more I thought about what Elliot said, the bigger the knot grew as it formed in my throat. We were filming. As in television.
What in the world was I doing?
“What you were meant to do.” Cyrus spoke up as if I had spoken my concerns out loud. “You were right. He was extremely pleased with your decision.”
Cyrus didn’t have to go into any further details. He could only mean Apollo. I made a note to ask him about how his contacts with a god worked.
“I’ll be just a minute longer then I’ll come to keep you company.”
Elliot started to come towards me but stopped when I shook my head, barely missing being stabbed in the eye with an eyeliner pencil in the process.
“No, take your time. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Me? Scared? I don’t know the meaning of the word.” Elliot waved my words away as if he rushed into my room every day. “Are you really ok? I’m sure we can put this off for a little longer if you need to.”
“Elliot, I have been in this chair for a good hour now, and from the looks I keep getting from your appearance people, I might be here for another hour. I do not want to repeat this process if I don’t have to.”
Elliot laughed. “Then we’ll do it. See you in a little while, Eva.”
“See you soon.” I muttered as he left the room. Cyrus took the papers from my lap as the women continued their work. I think I dozed off because one of them tugged at my arm.
“Ta da!” She cried out as I opened my eyes to the mirror she held in front of me. “What do you think?”
I couldn’t respond. The whispers I had been so successful at holding back were rushing forward. There was no time to prepare myself as there had been in the hotel room when Cyrus and I were practicing. I stared at the mirror with an expression of horror as the woman who I recognized from the newspaper drawings in my lap formed in the glass. Her eyes were hardened with a look of hatred. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. She held my gaze and began to speak.
“You have come to visit with me.”
“What…” I knew Cyrus was by my side. I could feel him there. He was speaking, but I couldn’t hear him over the woman. She continued, clutching at her throat as if trying to hide the wound stretched across it.
“I’ll see you soon enough, Sibyl. We have much to discuss.”
“The door, Little One. Close it. Now.”
Cyrus. He managed to break through the whispers and refocus my thoughts. I imagined my door, watched it appear across the image and slammed it shut. Cyrus had wrestled the hand mirror away from the woman, setting it aside face down on the table before pushing her away from me.
“Out, all of you.” Cyrus didn’t yell, but he didn’t need to. His voice was one they dared not disobey. I used the time it took for them to leave to try to gather up my thoughts. I felt disoriented and nauseous. When they were all gone, Cyrus knelt down by my feet. He took my chin in his hand to better examine my face.
“Are you alright?”
I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder. Cyrus held me until my body stopped trembling, saying nothing as I told him of the woman I’d seen as well as the words she had spoken. He was good to me. Cyrus didn’t try his usual tactic of telling me I didn’t have to go. Or offer me a chance to run away from Black Hollow as fast as possible. Instead, he let me work through the fear until I was well enough to pull away on my own. I wanted to go back to my little room to cry, but a promise is a promise. Besides, I wasn’t kidding when I told Elliot this beauty routine was too much to handle.
“Sorry.” I mumbled, reaching up to wipe my eyes then stopping before I smeared anything. “They are going to think I am insane.”
“They already do.” Cyrus offered me a small smile. “I believe the exact phrase the women were using was ‘difficult diva’?”
I wanted to smile, but couldn’t manage it. Instead, I shuddered. “Cyrus, if this can happen here, in a safe place, what happens when we get to the house?”
“Remember your door, Eva.” Cyrus took my hands and squeezed them. “I will teach you more as time passes, but for now, believe each mirror in that house is covered by the very image you created. Allow the spirit to speak with you only through Apollo’s mirror.”
“How do I keep them quiet?” I leaned forward. “The whispers. She was talking to me. I could hear her.”
“Block them out. You have to; otherwise, you can truly go insane from it.” Cyrus glanced around the empty room. “If it becomes too much, ask Apollo for assistance. Guidance. He has always aided his Sibyls. You are no different.”
“Is there a prayer, a chant?” I stood up to pace the room. “I’ve never talked to a god before. Do I give him an offering?”
I didn’t count my little spell back in New York. I wasn’t so sure it had qualified as actual contact with a deity since I never heard anything back from him.
“You already have by promising to showcase him on this project of yours.” Cyrus stood along with me, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Talk to him as you would to me. Well, not exactly like you talk to me. Be respectful.”
“Hey, I can be respectful when I need to be.”
It was Jonathan who knocked on the door to interrupt us. He gasped at the sight of me, clamoring with excitement over my new face as he pulled me over to the chair. As he pulled rollers from my hair, I looked to Cyrus who was still standing in place. Apollo could guide me, but it was Cyrus who would protect me.
I was sure about that.
Chapter Eleven