Belle Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “I do,” Addison said.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t want to worry you.”

  He ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll worry more if you don’t tell me. We’re in this together, right?”

  “All right. My abilities seem to be getting stronger. I’m not sure why.”

  He raised a brow. “In what way?”

  “When I was young, I found a penny on the ground. I picked it up and had a vision of the man who’d dropped it. I saw his present, and I saw his future. I saw his death. I was too young to understand what I was seeing. I didn’t know about the abilities I possessed at the time. It never happened again, not until today.”

  “What happened?”

  “Do you remember Barry, the guy who works at the library in New York City, the one who helped me find information on Roxanne Rafferty?”

  Luke crossed his arms and leaned back. “If you told me about him, I don’t recall.”

  “I had other plans today. I was going to visit Theodore Price, the guy who survived the car crash. Then last night, I dreamed about Barry. When I woke up, I knew I needed to see him. I knew he’d have information on the woman I saw last night, and I was right.”

  “What happened?”

  Addison told Luke about her meeting with Barry.

  When she finished, he said, “Did you tell him about your vision?”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t know how long he has left to live, do you?” Luke asked.

  “It’s not long. It’s hard, you know? Why is it important for me to see the end of his life when there’s nothing I can do to change it?”

  “What will you do? Will you tell him?”

  “He doesn’t know the exact day, but he knows it’s soon. For now, I need to focus on something else.”

  “What if you had the dream because there’s something you can do for him?”

  Like what?

  She already assisted the dead.

  Was she now to help the living?

  “I’m off, Luke. Way off. I have been ever since I touched Barry. I don’t want to fear what will happen when I touch someone, but I’m not sure I’m ready to see everyone’s future. It’s draining enough to see their past.”

  Addison needed to unwind, to return to center. While she’d been pregnant, Luke had turned one of the rooms in the house into a place of refuge, a place where she could communicate with those who had passed on. He’d even given it a name, “The Red Room,” after the scarlet-colored paint Addison had chosen for the walls. Tonight was the first time she’d used it after she’d decided the best way to center herself was to return to the beginning, where it all started—with Sara.

  Addison sat in the middle of a round, black rug, rested her hands on her knees, and closed her eyes. She visualized Sara, pulling out the details of the round curves in her face, the dimples on the sides of her cheeks, the pink tracksuit she wore the first time they met.

  With a clear vision of Sara frozen in her mind, she said, “Sara Belle, I command you to appear.”

  A beam of light appeared in front of Addison. It was small at first, no larger than a knob on a door. It grew several feet in length and hovered there. Addison expected Sara to come through. When she didn’t, Addison pushed her hand inside it.

  “Sara, take my hand,” Addison said. “Hear my voice and come toward me.”

  A force of energy surged through Addison’s hand, and she drew it back, pulling Sara into the room with her.

  Sara glanced around and then looked at Addison and said, “Hi. Where am I?”

  “You’re in my home,” Addison said. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. You’re safe. Remember me?”

  Sara stared at Addison a moment and nodded. “You were at the hospital. You have a baby. Where’s your baby? Can I see her?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s nighttime.”

  Sara turned her head and gazed out the window. “I don’t like night. I don’t like it when it’s dark.”

  “Do you remember what happened the last time you saw me?”

  Sara nodded. “You came with me. We were in the car. Nanny was taking me to get ice cream. I was going to get chocolate chip. We didn’t get ice cream, though.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I’m tired,” Sara said. “I want to sit down.”

  Sara sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and squeezed the teddy bear with her arms.

  Addison sat beside her.

  “Do you know why you didn’t get any ice cream?” Addison asked.

  “Don’t make me say it. I don’t want to say it.”

  “Don’t make you say what, Sara?”

  “I don’t want to ... you can’t make me.”

  “I’m not trying to make you do anything, honey,” Addison said.

  “Yes, you are. Everyone tries to make me do things I don’t want to do.”

  “I won’t ever make you do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?”

  Sara stared at Addison. “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Sara set the bear down next to her and said, “I’m sad. When I see the other kids in the hospital, I try to talk to them, but they never talk back. No one wants to be my friend.”

  “I think they would be your friend if they could see you.”

  “Only you see me. You and the angel.”

  The angel?

  Was it possible someone had been watching out for her all this time?

  “Who is the angel? What does she look like?”

  “She wears a white dress, and she’s really shiny. Even her hair is shiny. She smiles at me when she sees me, and that’s how I know she’s nice.”

  “Tell me about the angel.”

  “She’s not a kid like I am. She’s old.”

  To a child the age of Sara, her perception of old was relative.

  “Where do you see the woman—at the hospital?”

  Sara shook her head. “She’s in the window behind my house.”

  It was a revelation Addison hadn’t expected.

  “You leave the hospital and go home to the manor?”

  “Sometimes, when I think about home real hard, I close my eyes and say I want to go home. When I open my eyes, I’m there. I want to see Mommy and Daddy, but I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “The angel says I can’t. She says I have to stay outside.”

  “She talks to you?”

  “Well ... kinda. Not with words. She says things with her mind. I know what she’s thinking.”

  “Why doesn’t she want you to go into the house?” Addison asked.

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me.”

  “Do you see anyone else when you’re there?”

  “Once there was a man in the window.”

  “Does he talk to you too?”

  She nodded. “He asks me to open the door and let him out. I almost did one time, and then I saw the angel, and she said I shouldn’t.”

  “Do you know the man?”

  Sara thought about it. “I think so. I can’t remember.”

  “What can’t you remember?”

  “I forgot what people look like.”

  Addison assumed the angel Sara referred to had to be Libby Carrington.

  But who was the man?

  Why was he trying to get out?

  What would happen if he did?

  “I have something to show you,” Addison said.

  “Oh ... kay.”

  Addison dangled the locket in front of Sara. “Have you seen this before?”

  “Umm ... I don’t know.”

  “Did someone give this to you or your nanny?”

  Sara eyed the locket and then stuffed a hand inside her pocket. When she pulled it out, it was empty. “Why do you have Mr. Pickles’ locket?”

  “Is Mr. Pickles the name of your bear?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  �
��Who gave the locket to you?”

  Sara turned her shoulders in. “I don’t know.”

  “You were looking for your nanny when I met you. I want to help you find her. Would you like to be with her again?”

  Sara’s eyes lit up, and she nodded. “Yes, please. She’s nice.”

  “I’m not sure where to look for her. Can you help me?”

  “I think she’s at the hospital.”

  “Why would she be there?”

  “I saw her after the bad thing happened.”

  “The bad thing ... do you mean the car crash?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What did Scarlett say when she came to see you?”

  “She laid next to me in my bed and said not to worry. She said she had to leave, but she would come back to get me. She never came back. She left me there all alone. I waited a long time, and then you came.”

  “You waited in my hospital room?”

  Sara nodded. “It looks different now. It has pretty colors on the wall. When I was there, I floated over the bed, and I could see myself.”

  Sara had witnessed the moment her spirit detached from her body, the separation between her physical self and her soul.

  “What did you see when you were floating?” Addison asked.

  “I saw my nanny. She gave me a hug. She was crying.”

  “Why was she crying?”

  “Because she had to leave. A nice lady came to get her. My nanny said she couldn’t go yet. She couldn’t leave without me. The lady said she had to go because it was time. My nanny said she was sorry she couldn’t stay longer. She told me she’d come back, and then she walked through the door, and it turned into a wall again.”

  “Do you remember Libby, the nanny you had before Scarlett?”

  Sara thought about it. “Yeah. Kinda.”

  “Can you tell me about the last night she slept over at your house, the night she went missing?”

  Sara was no longer listening. She tensed, and her eyes shifted to the corner of the room.

  “What is it?” Addison asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Sara struggled to speak, and then said, “Do you hear it?”

  Addison looked over.

  No one was there.

  They were alone.

  “You’re safe here,” Addison said. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  Sara wasn’t convinced. “I have to hide.”

  “Why? What are you worried about?”

  “I ... I’m ... I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t want me here, talking to you. He said I need to stop.”

  “Who says you need to stop?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t see him. I only hear what he says in my mind.”

  Sara’s spirit began to fade, the light ebbing from inside her.

  “Wait!” Addison said. “Please. Don’t go. Let me help you.”

  Her words came a moment too late.

  Sara was already gone.

  Addison opened the book of enchantments and flipped through the pages until she found one containing several lines of verse and a poorly drawn sketch of an owl. The owl was Addison’s spirit animal, an alter she transformed into when the need presented itself. She set the book on her lap, focused on the words written on the page, and chanted:

  Ancient mothers far and near

  Heed my voice, lend an ear

  Give me wings, and allow me flight

  Protection and the gift of sight

  As you guide me toward the present

  Addison closed her eyes, thought of Belle Manor, and released the book. It slipped through her fingers onto the floor. When her eyes opened, she felt the night’s brisk, cool breeze, and she found herself in midair, hovering over the manor. Through the moon’s cascading light, she caught a faint glimpse of herself in the manor’s window.

  She’d done it.

  She’d transformed into an owl.

  Addison flapped her wings, angling herself toward the window ledge. The window was open, not by much, just enough for her to duck beneath it. She stuck the landing and bobbed her head beneath the glass, trying to nudge the window open a bit more. Three quarters of the way through, her backside became stuck on the window latch.

  Don’t freak out.

  Everything will be all right.

  But everything wasn’t all right.

  Addison rocked her body back and forth, squeezing beneath the crack in the window until she broke free, the force so strong it launched her inside. She tumbled onto the floor, shaken, but unharmed.

  Voices echoed from the manor’s lower level.

  “Did you hear that?” a man asked.

  “Yeah,” a woman said. “It sounded like it came from upstairs.”

  “I’m sure it’s no big deal,” the man said. “I bet it’s just a—”

  “You don’t know what it is or isn’t until you check it out,” the woman said. “We can’t just assume everything is fine up there. She could be hurt. Go check on her.”

  The man sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll go.”

  “Wait,” the woman said. “If it’s not her, and it’s something else, you should take this.”

  This?

  What was this?

  A bat?

  A gun?

  A knife?

  Worse?

  Addison wasn’t waiting around to find out.

  She scampered out the door toward a dim light coming from inside a room on the opposite end of the hall. She entered, looked around, and froze, shocked to find Cecilia Belle laying on a bed, dressed in the same nightgown she’d worn the last time Addison saw her.

  Cecilia pushed a pair of glasses over the rim of her nose and blinked down at Addison. It was too late. She’d been seen. Addison’s gaze shifted left to right, looking for an alternate means of escape. There wasn’t one, and the sound of the man’s heavy footsteps ascending the stairs meant he was close.

  There was no place left for Addison to go.

  Without uttering a word, Cecilia grabbed a mug off of her nightstand, tipped the liquid out, leaned down, and placed the mug on its side on the floor, a gesture Addison found peculiar.

  All these years living like a muzzled dog has rendered her insane.

  Cecilia waved Addison closer. “It’s all right, my feathered friend. I won’t hurt you. Come here. Get behind the bed. Hurry now. You must do what I tell you. There isn’t much time.”

  Cecilia had spoken to Addison as if she expected her to understand what she’d just said.

  Do what she says, or don’t?

  I have no other options, no means of escape.

  With a great deal of reluctance, Addison did as she was told.

  A man entered the room seconds later.

  “Yes?” Cecilia asked. “Come to clean up my mess, have you?”

  “I ... what happened in here?” he stammered.

  “Who knows? My arms must have been flailing about while I slept, and I knocked the cup onto the floor. Doesn’t matter. It’s just water, anyway. I’ll clean it up.”

  The man sighed. “I’m here now. I’ll do it.”

  “Like I said, there’s no need. It’s nice to take care of things myself once in a while.”

  Cecilia opened the drawer on her nightstand, removed a handkerchief, and bent down, blotting it over the water. She looked back at the man and said, “Why are you carrying an umbrella? It’s not raining.”

  “I ... I was just ... it doesn’t matter,” the man said. “I heard a noise and came to check it out.”

  He turned and left the room.

  Cecilia stayed silent for a minute, and then said, “Stay there, my friend. I’ve known him a long time, and I don’t think he’s done with me just yet.”

  Addison held her position. Cecilia may not have been lucid, but she was right. Minutes later, footsteps swished along the floor toward them, and the man revisited the room.

  “A mop?” Cecilia said. “You’r
e being a bit ridiculous don’t you think? A splash of water won’t do much damage.”

  “It will preserve the floor,” he said.

  “The floor is fine. At any rate, hand me the mop. I’ll do it.”

  The man breathed a sigh of frustration. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You haven’t been this chatty in months.”

  “Who knows? Maybe I’m starting to feel like myself again.”

  From her hiding spot, Addison saw a man’s hand scoop one of the pill bottles off the nightstand. He jiggled it back and forth as if gauging how many pills remained.

  “How have you been feeling the last several days?” he asked.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Do you think your meds are still working?”

  “How the hell should I know? You have me taking an entire drugstore full of pharmaceuticals. I’m sure they work the same way they always have.”

  “It’s not true. You take what you need, nothing more.”

  “Of course, it’s true. No need to lie about it.”

  “Doctor Farnsworth is stopping by tomorrow. I’d like him to assess you again. It’s been a while since he’s checked you out. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  “See what he has to say about what?”

  “Have you taken your sleeping medication tonight?”

  “Not yet. I dozed off about an hour ago, though, without it.”

  “You need to take it. I’ve brought you another glass of water so you can.”

  The man sat on the edge of the bed. From Addison’s hiding spot, she had a slight view of his face. If he angled his head a bit more to the right and glanced down, he’d see her.

  “I’ve been thinking it may be time to up your dosage again,” he said, “or even switch you to something else. It’s possible you’re so used to the medication you’re on, since you’ve been taking it for a while, that it’s not working like it should anymore.”

  “How would you know whether it does or doesn’t work?” Cecilia asked. “You’re not the one taking them. I told you. I feel fine. Best I’ve felt in years, in fact. I’m not interested in seeing Farnsworth tomorrow or any other day. He’s pushy, and I don’t like it.”

  There was a heap of dissatisfaction in Cecilia’s tone. It was easy to understand why. The man spoke to her like she was a foolish child, incapable of deciding what was best for herself, and though Cecilia was several marbles short, she articulated her words with precision. Maybe that’s what had the man worried. If the meds didn’t have the effect they once did, and Cecilia became herself again, what would it mean for him, a man who seemed to have questionable motives?