Before I met Bill, I fell in what I thought was love with another man. Looking back now, I can’t say what it was, or whether he tricked me into falling for him in order to further his own agenda, which was to produce an heir who would benefit from our combined abilities. His name was Sam, which I later learned was short for his real name, Samael. At first, I wasn’t aware of who he was or of his intentions. I’d never met anyone apart from our own ancestors who possessed the abilities we have, you see. It came as a shock to learn not only were there others like us in the world, the circle once included men, too. Samael not only possessed similar abilities to ours, his seemed far more superior in some ways, like he’d had many more years to practice.
When I became pregnant, I learned of Samael’s true nature. He showed me who he really was, a sorcerer who knew I was gifted, even though I had forsaken my powers and hadn’t put them to use since I was a teenager. When I think on it now, I wonder if I made a horrible mistake when I turned away from my birthright. Maybe if I hadn’t, I would have seen him for who he was before it was too late.
When Samael learned we were to have twins, he was elated. He assumed we’d marry and raise the children together. I had no such desire at the time. I was young and independent. I wasn’t interested in being married then. I expressed this to him, inciting a wrath of anger and contempt. He wanted our children to be the most powerful entities to have ever lived. I wanted the opposite. I wanted the two of you to be normal children with normal lives.
I convinced myself everything would be all right, and when you and Corbin arrived, I assumed I could find a way to flee, to rid myself of Samael forever. To do this, I needed help. I couldn’t stop him on my own. I was weak and out of practice. I decided my best option was to confide in your grandmother. I told her everything and begged for her help, knowing she would find a way out of my predicament. What followed is the reason you and she were estranged.
Your grandmother wanted me to play nice at first and wait out the pregnancy. Once the babies were born, she had a plan to save the three of us. She never told me her exact intentions; she just asked me to trust her. Several months later, the two of you were born. The day we arrived home, your grandmother said I looked tired and suggested I get some sleep. She offered to watch the two of you while I did. I woke a few hours later, finding you in your crib, but not your brother. I searched for him and discovered he was gone. While I slept, your grandmother made a deal with Samael. He could take the boy if he left the girl. He was to leave for good, and neither of them were to ever return again. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I couldn’t fathom how my own mother could betray me. But she did, and Samael got part of what he wanted, at least one child to raise the way he saw fit. He accepted the deal, and my sweet Corbin was gone forever.
I spent many years of my life in search of him after they disappeared, even though I always knew I’d never find him. I never did. Once they were gone, your grandmother had cast two protection spells using a book she referred to as the book of enchantments. One spell was to shield me from finding my son, and the second kept him and his father from finding the two of us.
I wish I could see you now to apologize. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, and I’m certain now that you know of their existence, you’ll want to seek them out, to make them part of your life, as I did in the beginning. As you got older, I considered what might have happened had I found your brother. I have no idea how he was raised, who he is, or what he is capable of doing. There was good in his father, but there was also evil. Whichever road you choose to go down now, use caution. Think of yourself and of your own family, if you have one. And always remember how much I love you.
—All my love, Mom
Addison folded the letter in half and set it on the coffee table. She leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. Luke knelt beside her and draped a hand around her neck. He didn’t speak, and neither did Lia. They waited, giving Addison the time she needed.
“Just when I think I know who I am, I realize I know nothing,” Addison said.
“You know yourself, Addison,” Luke said. “You know who you are—a caring, compassionate person. You’re the same woman today that you were yesterday. The letter only adds more transparency.”
“I have two different types of energy flowing through me, not one,” Addison said. “Joan knew. She said I had to make a choice.”
“What choice do you need to make?” Lia asked.
“When I place the stone into the book of enchantments, I believe I’ll find out.”
Addison leaned back. She stared at the clock on the wall, watched the seconds pass by.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Moments gone.
Stolen moments.
Moments she’d never get back.
“I should be mad at Marjorie,” Addison said, “but I’m not. I don’t know whether my grandmother was right or wrong to do what she did. It’s possible she knew who Samael was—who he really was. Maybe she was protecting us. I can’t see her doing what she did otherwise. All I know is, I’m tired of everyone’s protection. This is my life, and I can make my own decisions. I’ll live my life on my own terms.”
Addison put Amara Jane to bed and went downstairs. She removed the book of enchantments off the shelf and held it in her hand.
I will uncover your secrets, all of them, the ones you’ve hidden from me.
Soon enough.
She set it on the floor next to her and picked her cell phone out of her pocket.
Let’s forget the old-fashioned way for now and bring necromancy into the current century, shall we?
She pulled up the internet on her phone and typed in the name Samael. She scrolled down the page. The articles she found were conflicting.
Some described him as good.
Others said he was evil.
Others still said he was a combination platter of the two.
Which is it then, Samael?
Are you good, are you evil?
Or are you both?
Samael was described as an archangel, an angel of the highest rank. Another article said he was the angel of darkness, one who brought about destruction, even though he had once been the chief of the warrior angels, the servants of the Lord.
Somewhere along the line, it appeared Samael may have been banished from the Lord’s good graces. And though his kick out of heaven didn’t mean he was altogether bad, it did lead to a fair amount of tomfoolery when he seduced Eve and impregnated her with Cain.
And here I was thinking Cain’s conception was Adam’s doing.
She was more confused about the truth of Samael’s identity now than before.
And who had chosen her brother’s name?
Her mother or Samael?
A secondary search of the name Corbin didn’t suggest his name was anything of significance. It seemed to have neither angelic nor demonic influences. It was Anglo-Norman and was the average, run-of-the-mill name, with one exception.
The name Corbin signified a man with polished, dark hair and a brusque tone of voice, one who was also sometimes called a raven.
“You will seek the raven, as the raven has scoured the earth in search of you.”
It had been among the last words spoken by Joan Waterhouse before she withdrew herself from Addison’s presence. She’d said the raven sought Addison at night, with a desire to make her like him, whatever he was now. At least she hadn’t said he desired to kill her or do her harm. Or maybe he did, and Joan had left that part out.
How did Corbin even know he had a sister, and how long had he known?
Maybe their father had told him.
Addison told herself it didn’t matter. She had other more pressing issues to deal with, starting with an overdue meet-and-greet with Theodore Price, the sole survivor of the car crash.
Theodore Price’s house was a modest, single-level, Cape Cod style, with a white exterior made of wood slats. Blue shutters trimmed the front
windows. The yard was tidy and symmetrical, right down to a bi-level row of perfect, rectangular shrubs, looking like they’d been manicured by Edward Scissorhands himself.
Addison walked to the front door and knocked. A trim man with an absence of hair answered. He leaned against the side of the door and crossed his arms, staring at Addison like she’d interrupted his favorite television program. He was much different than the charming, attractive boy he’d been in his youth. And yet, his eyes were the same. They still had the same gentle glimmer they’d had in the car the day Addison had seen him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I hope so,” Addison said. “I’m looking for Theodore Price. Am I at the right house?”
He nodded. “Everyone calls me Theo. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Scarlett Whittaker and Sara Belle.”
Theo stepped back and waved a hand back and forth. “Nope, no thank you. I’ve relived that nightmare enough times. I’m done with it.”
He attempted to swing the door closed, but Addison wedged her foot inside before he had the chance.
“Please,” she said. “I have no interest in dredging up the past and making you relive it. I’m only looking for a few answers to just a few questions, and then I’ll never bother you again.”
He stared down at Addison’s shoe, a knee-high black boot—a boot blocking him from immediate freedom. “Move your foot, lady. Okay?”
It wasn’t the nicest response she’d ever heard.
It wasn’t icy, either.
If anything, it was a plea for understanding, which played on an emotion she didn’t want to have at the moment—guilt.
“If you could hear me out, I’d appreciate it,” she said. “Five minutes.”
“Why should I?”
“If you let me in, I’ll explain.”
He considered her request. “No. Now please leave.”
His use of the word please furthered her guilt. She retracted her shoe and nodded.
“I understand how you must feel,” she said, “and you don’t know me, so why would you talk to me? I guess I’ll figure it out another way.”
He nodded. “Thank you for understanding.”
The door closed, and as she turned, she heard the lock click. She bent down and sat on his front porch step, wishing she could reenact the scene, try again another way. A few minutes passed and she took out her cell phone, sending Briggs a text message:
You’ve had time to think.
Any chance you’ve decided I could take a look at the files today?
Two minutes later, he hadn’t responded, and she decided to leave. Halfway back to the car the lock on Theo’s door clicked again, and she turned.
Theo stepped outside. “What did you mean when you said you’d figure it out some other way? Figure what out?”
“I don’t know ... everything, I guess.”
“What’s everything?”
It was her chance, her one chance for a redo.
Where to begin?
“I want to know what really happened the day of the car accident. I want to know who the driver of the other car is, and why he fled the scene, leaving Scarlett and Sara to die, and you in critical condition. I want to know why the Belles became hermits in the wake of their daughter’s death. A few years in hibernation? Yeah. Okay. It makes sense. Grief is a process. But decades? Seems like a long time to never get over it enough to live a decent life. I’d like to know why Cecilia Belle’s mother Josephine was banned from visiting her daughter, until one day when they allowed her to come over, and then she died the day after that. I’d also like to know what happened to Libby Carrington.”
“Wow,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, one more thing. All these questions I have? I intend to find answers for every single one.”
“Are you some newbie detective with nothing better to do than scour old case files? I don’t know if they told you, but you’re not the first one to try and reopen the case. You’re not the second either. I mean, it’s been a long time since anyone has, but do you get where I’m going with this?”
“No one ever gets anywhere.”
“Right, and talking about it got old about twenty years ago.”
“I’m not a detective,” she said. “I don’t work for a department, either, or a news agency.”
“Then who are you?”
“Someone who knows more than they should sometimes.”
“Ahh, well, you’re going to need to fill in the blanks.”
The door had already been closed on her once.
Why not take a risk?
“Have you ever had a dream you couldn’t explain?” she asked.
He scratched his head. “I still don’t follow.”
“Have you ever dreamed about an event in your life or in the life of someone else and discovered something you didn’t know—something you found out really happened? It may not have even been a dream. It could have been intuition. Let’s say you knew you needed to call a friend one day, and when you did, you learned he was going through a depression because he’d just had an argument with his wife, which led to her saying she wanted a divorce.”
She stared at the blank look on his face.
He hadn’t.
She was losing him.
Again.
“I ... uhh ... no,” he said. “Why?”
“I have those experiences sometimes.”
He shrugged. “Why tell me?”
“I know a few things about all the mysterious events surrounding Belle Manor. Even though they happened long ago, I’ve seen them.”
“You’re saying you dreamed about something you couldn’t know any other way, and it turned out to be true?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Ahh, you know, I don’t believe in those things. Not to take away from your own experience or anything. I just don’t.”
His eyes left hers and wandered back inside the house.
He was seeking a second escape.
“I have a pot roast in the oven,” he said, “and my wife will be home in about twenty minutes. I should go. Good luck on your ... you know ... what you’re trying to do.”
He turned and walked inside the house.
Think, Addison.
Think fast.
“You were taking Sara to get ice cream the day she died,” Addison said.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve told a lot of people the story.”
“You wanted to take Scarlett to see a movie.” Addison thought back to the conversation he’d had with Scarlett in the car. “American Graffiti was playing at the drive in. She said she couldn’t go. She was staying the night at Belle Manor.”
“Told a lot of people that too.”
“Scarlett got upset with you because you offered Sara a second scoop of ice cream if you could steal Scarlett away to watch the movie.”
He seemed intrigued now. Addison could tell. But it still wasn’t enough.
“I’m sure you’ve talked to at least a few people about everything I just told you,” she said, “but what about when you asked Scarlett what had gotten into her and told her she was acting kind of crazy? She apologized and said she had lost something, but she didn’t tell you what she’d lost.”
Theo staggered toward her. “How did you ...? How ...? There’s no way. You couldn’t know the rest of our conversation. No one knows I told her she was acting crazy.”
“Theo,” Addison said, “I think you should let me in.”
Given the meticulous, tidy exterior of the house, the inside made no sense. Theo, or his wife was—or they both were—hoarders. Hoarders of crystal figurines, hoarders of stacks upon stacks of newspapers, hoarders of an entire shelf full of empty cardboard paper towel holders. They were equal opportunity hoarders.
Theo followed Addison’s eyes around the room and said, “The, uh, outside of our house is my domain. The inside is my wife’s. For years, I’ve tried to help her
get organized. I even hauled off a truck full of this stuff once. She has a hard time getting rid of things, so it didn’t go over well. I blew up, and she almost left me over it. Now, I guess you could say I learn to deal with it the best way I can. That’s love, I suppose.”
He glanced down at his hands and avoided eye contact, like he was ashamed for her to see the conditions in which he lived.
“My father is like this to a degree,” Addison said. “When my mother died, he refused to get rid of any of her things. All of it is still everywhere, displayed throughout his house like she could walk right back in the door and pick up where she left off, even though he lives somewhere else now—next to me, actually.”
“You know why he does it, don’t you?”
“I didn’t for a long time. I do now. What she left behind ... they’re more than just things to him. They’re memories, sentiments he’s placed a value on, which makes them too precious to part from.”
He stretched his arms out to the side. “As you can see, I understand.”
I noticed an enticing aroma coming from the kitchen. “When you said you were cooking a pot roast, I have to admit, I thought it was a way to get rid of me.”
He raised a brow. “I’m not a liar.”
“I’m sorry for making false assumptions. I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s all right.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, Theo smiled.
“You seem nice. Come on, follow me to the kitchen,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me how you know about the conversation I had all those years ago with Scarlett?”
“It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t believe in things he can’t explain.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re here. I haven’t kicked you out yet. May as well give it a try.”
Theo slid an oven mitt over his hand, opened the oven, and stabbed the roast with a prong.
“Yep, about fifteen minutes more, I’d say.” He freed his hand and looked at Addison. “Go on. Sit down, start talking. Seems like you’re good at it.”
Belle Manor Haunting Page 11