Shadow Land

by Adam J. Wright

  Amy took a cautious sip. The drink was pleasant-tasting and warmed her insides immediately. “It’s good,” she said, taking another sip.

  Victoria smiled. “And good for you. Now, it’s going to take us a few days to find out exactly what is ailing your father but you can come here and visit him anytime you like.”

  Amy nodded, wondering how she was going explain her dad’s absence at the station. She was going to have to tell everyone he was sick. She didn’t like the idea of lying to her colleagues but she could hardly tell them the truth, that her dad been enchanted by King Arthur’s sword. It sounded ridiculous even to her and she’d seen the strange ice that had emanated from his body, had seen the Blackwell sisters’ Volvo freeze with her own eyes.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Victoria asked.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m just worried about my dad, is all.”

  “Well, that’s understandable but rest assured that Devon and I will do all we can to wake him up. We’ll get him on the road to recovery in no time, I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay,” Amy said, unsure why she trusted the witches but unable to deny that she did. “I should get back to the diner, deal with my dad’s car, create a cover story.”

  “I’m sure it will have thawed out by now,” Victoria said. “The freezing effect is centered on your father’s body so as soon as we took him from the car, the ice would have started to melt.”

  “Aren’t you afraid it will freeze your house?”

  “The enchantment can’t escape that room. There are hundreds of years’ worth of wards protecting the rest of the house from whatever happens to be in that room. Now, let’s get you to your car.”

  Amy followed her outside to the clearing in which the house was situated. Before she got in to her car, she turned and looked at the rambling house with its steep gables and arched windows. She’d never heard of this house, even though it was only a couple of miles north of town. She wondered if the illusory wall of trees was the only privacy measure set up around the building.

  “You’re wondering why you aren’t familiar with our house, aren’t you?” Victoria said.

  “Yes, I am,” Amy admitted. “Can you read minds too?”

  “Not at all, that’s Devon’s gift. But it’s obvious that someone who has lived in this area all their life, as you have, would be surprised that this house exists. As far as you were aware, there was nothing out here but woods.”

  “I assume it’s hidden by spells. But why the need for secrecy?”

  A sad look entered Victoria’s eyes. “There was once a time when people like us were persecuted.”

  “But those times are gone.”

  “True, but this house has been here a long time and so have the spells that protect it.”

  “I can understand wanting to protect your family,” Amy said. “My dad is the only family I have left. Please protect him too.”

  “Of course,” Victoria said.

  Amy got into her car and drove along the short road to the illusory trees. The last thing she saw before she passed through the spell was Victoria Blackwell watching her with a concerned look on her face.

  When she got to the highway, Amy pulled over and put her face in her hands, letting the tears she’d refused to shed in front of the Blackwell sisters flow freely. She’d been forced to put her dad’s life in the hands of two witches because whatever was affecting him was way outside her experience.

  Nothing in her training as a deputy had prepared her for the paranormal events she’d had to face since Alec Harbinger had come to town, and she hated him for it. Worse, she hated herself for being so useless where the paranormal was concerned.

  She’d taken this job to help people but in a world of monsters and witches and enchanted swords, how could she hope to make a difference?

  Wiping her eyes, she got back on the highway and drove toward Darla’s Diner, all the while thinking about her dad lying on a bed in the witches’ basement, surrounded by ice.

  13

  I woke up to the sound of rain lashing against the cabin window and the tantalizing smell of bacon in the air. I dressed quickly and went downstairs to find Felicity in the kitchen, spatula in hand, making breakfast. Two frying pans sat on the stove, one full of sizzling sausages and rashers of bacon, the other loaded with fried eggs. A mound of toast sat on a plate on the counter, next to a full pot of coffee.

  “I thought the smell of bacon might bring you running,” Felicity said as I stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen.

  I grinned at her. “You know me too well. Anything I can do?”

  “You can pour the coffee.” She began transferring the food from the pans to the plates.

  I poured myself some coffee and added creamer and sugar. “You having tea?” I asked her.

  “No, I’ll have coffee today.”

  I poured another mug and followed Felicity into the living room, to the small dining table that sat in the corner. She placed the plates on the table and I set the coffees down next to them. “It smells delicious,” I said, sitting down.

  Felicity sat down and reached for her coffee. She drank most of it before touching the food on her plate.

  “I’ll get the pot,” I said, heading back into the kitchen. When I got back to the table, her mug was empty. “I didn’t think you liked coffee much,” I said, pouring a refill for her.

  “I don’t, but what Victoria told us about the sheriff worried me. I spent most of the night researching Excalibur to see if I could find out what it did to him. I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Victoria said they have everything under control.”

  “I know but I can’t bear to think of Sheriff Cantrell under an enchantment. He isn’t the nicest man in the world, I know, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  I knew what she meant. The Blackwells were taking care of the sheriff but I felt a little responsible for his condition. He’d been at my house when the sword had enchanted him and he’d only been there because of my involvement in the Sammy Martin case. “Did you find anything?” I asked Felicity.

  She shook her head and sighed. “Not really. I can’t find anything in the lore that mentions Excalibur putting anyone into an enchanted sleep. There’s no precedent for it as far as I can see.”

  “Why would it do that to him?” I said, taking a bite of toast. “And why Cantrell?”

  “I don’t suppose we’ll know that until we find out what it’s actually done. I just hope Victoria and Devon can bring him out of it.”

  “I’m sure they can,” I said. “They may be eccentric but when it comes to magic, they know their stuff. But I guess this means we’ll have to do our own research into opening a portal at Butterfly Heights. The witches will probably be too busy.”

  “I can look into that,” Felicity said, finishing her second coffee. She began eating her breakfast, her actions slow and thoughtful. I guessed she was already working on the portal problem in her head.

  “Hey,” I said, “do you want to stay here when I go to the police station? You could probably use some rest.”

  “I’m fine. The coffee should kick in soon. And I’d like to see the town.”

  “Even in this weather?” The rain was still lashing against the cabin, and through the windows, I could see dark clouds hanging over the lake.

  “I’m from England, remember? I’m used to the rain.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. We ate breakfast in silence while the rain drummed against the windows. When I pushed my empty plate away, I said, “That was amazing. I could get used to having breakfast with you every morning.”

  That hadn’t come out as I’d intended. “What I mean is—”

  “It’s fine,” Felicity said, putting her hand on mine. “I know what you mean.” She collected the dishes and took them to the kitchen quickly. I heard her fussing around in there, washing the dishes and putting them away.

  Way to go, Harbinger, I told myself.

  I got up
and went to the kitchen, where Felicity was putting the plates into a cabinet.

  “Felicity, what I said just now…I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”

  She closed the cabinet and looked at me. “I know you didn’t. It’s just that being here with you—living here with you—brought back some of the feelings I was experiencing before I went to England and it’s making me feel a bit awkward. I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

  “Me either,” I said.

  “Perhaps this cabin wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea,” I said. “I like spending time with you. I’m sorry I opened my big mouth. What I meant to say was that breakfast was great. That’s all.”

  “You didn’t mean anything else?” She was asking a genuine question, not accusing me of overstepping some boundary that might exist between us.

  “No,” I said. Although now that I thought about it, maybe my comment had been a Freudian slip. Being here with Felicity, seeing her first thing in the morning and getting to talk with her before starting work, was awesome.

  I’d been keeping my emotions in check because of the conversation we’d had some time ago about keeping our distance from each other. God, that conversation seemed like it was a lifetime ago now.

  “Okay,” she said, taking the knives and forks from the drainer and putting them into the drawer.

  Did she sound disappointed?

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

  “No, it’s fine.” She picked up the last plate from the drainer and began wiping it.

  “If you want me to go stay at the lodge with Marv and Edith—”

  She laughed. “No, there’s no need for that. That would be silly when we have this lovely cabin. Besides, I don’t think you’d be able to stand it there for long. Marv would probably hire you to bust some ghosts.”

  I grinned. “I’d have to get some coveralls and a proton pack.”

  “I could just imagine you dressed up like that, prowling around the lodge with Marv next to you, asking if you could hear any weird noises.”

  “And Edith saying there’s no chance of that around here.”

  Her laughter became uncontrollable and she leaned her hip against the counter for support, removing her glasses so she could wipe tears from her eyes. The plate slipped from her hand and hit the floor, smashing into a dozen pieces that went skittering across the linoleum.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her, moving forward to pick up the pieces.

  Felicity nodded and mock-scolded me. “Look what you made me do!”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said innocently. “You were the one imagining me as a ghostbuster.”

  We both laughed and then our arms were around each other and we were kissing. She tasted of coffee, sweet and rich.

  When our lips parted, her breath whispered against my mouth, her dark eyes wide, still glistening with tears of laughter. “I didn’t expect that to happen,” she said.

  “If you didn’t want it to—”

  “No, I wanted it to.” She leaned forward and kissed me again, her hands gripping the muscles of my back, pulling me closer to her.

  I had no idea how long we’d been standing there, locked in an embrace, when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Who can that be?” I said.

  “It’s probably Marv coming to request your services as a ghostbuster.”

  I groaned. “It had better not be.”

  “You should see who it is,” Felicity suggested.

  “Yeah, I should.” I went back into the living room and looked out through the window. Steve, the security guard from Butterfly Heights, was standing out there. He wore a dark orange slicker and a faded John Deere cap that was pulled down low on his head, rainwater cascading from the peak like a miniature waterfall.

  I opened the door. “Steve.”

  “Mr. Harbinger,” he said. “I’d like to talk with you, if I may.”

  “Sure, come in.”

  He stepped inside and reached into the slicker, producing a large white envelope. “I have something you might be interested in.” He handed it to me.

  Felicity came in from the kitchen. “Would you like a coffee, mister…?”

  “Waylon. Steve Waylon. You can call me Steve, miss, and coffee would be great. It’s nippy out there this morning.”

  I opened the envelope and slid a sheaf of papers out of it. They seemed to be photocopies of Ryan Martin’s records from Butterfly Heights.

  “I shouldn’t be giving you those,” Steve said, “I could lose my job and much more just for copying them, but something has to be done and Dr. Campbell is ignoring the problem.”

  “Something has to be done about what?” I asked him.

  “The problem at the Heights. I told Campbell ages ago that we needed to get a P.I. to look into it but he told me I was being ridiculous. I let it go at the time but when you came to the Heights and I saw that you were a P.I. I called Campbell and told him he should hire you. He refused.”

  Felicity came back with a mug of coffee and gave it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “So after Campbell refused to hire you, I thought that if I gave you what you wanted, you might help.” He pointed at the papers in my hand. “Those are Ryan’s records. They should tell you everything you need to know about Ryan, his problems, and maybe why he killed himself that night.”

  “You think he killed himself?”

  He shrugged. “I think it’s the obvious answer. He was very disturbed.” He took another sip of coffee. “So now that I’ve given you those, will you help me with my problem?”

  “What problem is that exactly?” I asked.

  “The Heights,” he said. “It’s haunted.”

  “That’s understandable,” I told him. “A tragedy happened there some time ago and something like that can lock certain energies into the atmosphere.”

  “I don’t mean ghosts. It’s more than a ghost.” He took a sip of the coffee. “Something weird happens there. You’d have to see it for yourself.”

  “Dr. Campbell won’t let us near the place.”

  “I can get you in there after he’s gone home. He works until late most days but I work shifts, so sometimes I’m there all night. Please say you’ll take the job. If I have to deal with it much longer, I’ll lose my mind and end up as a patient.”

  “Take a seat,” I said, gesturing to the sofa. “I need to know more about what’s happening. Is it connected to what James Elliot said about being shown things he didn’t want to see?”

  Steve sat down and put his mug on the coffee table. Felicity took a seat in the armchair and I noticed she already had her notebook in hand, pen poised over the page.

  “Not exactly, no. But it affects everyone at the Heights,” Steve said. “The patients and the staff. We have a huge turnover of personnel because no one wants to work there for long. The residential patients don’t get a choice, of course, so they have to endure it.”

  “That can’t be helping them with their problems,” Felicity said.

  “No, it isn’t, it’s making them worse. They already have a problem separating fantasy from reality so if they experience something weird, it just gets chalked up as a hallucination when they mention it in their therapy sessions.”

  “What exactly are they seeing?” I asked.

  He frowned and stared at the coffee table for a moment before replying. I could see he was remembering something he’d rather forget.

  “It’s a song,” he said. “A sad song without any words. Just notes being sung by a woman’s voice. It comes from nowhere and it moves around the building.”

  “Sounds like typical ghostly activity.”

  “If you listen to it for long, it gets inside your head, makes you see things.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Images. Visions. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain because the memory of what they were fades after a while.”

  “It could be a ghost
showing you things from its previous life,” Felicity said. “Perhaps it’s someone who was a patient when the building was the Pinewood Heights Asylum.”

  “Yes, the old Pinewood Heights Asylum,” Steve said. “That’s what I told Dr. Campbell. I said it’s probably something that’s been around since then. There are terrible stories about the old asylum. He told me I must be imagining it.”

  “So Dr. Campbell knows the building used to be called Pinewood Heights?” Felicity asked.

  He nodded. “Of course. The place was infamous. Everyone knows what the Heights used to be called and what happened there.”

  “Yet Dr. Campbell told me it’s been called Butterfly Heights since the day it was built,” she said. “Why would he do that?”

  Steve shrugged. “I have no idea. He knows all about the Pinewood Heights Asylum.”

  “Has Campbell heard the ghostly singing?” I asked.

  “He says he hasn’t.”

  “Are you particularly sensitive to the paranormal?” I asked him. “Have you seen or sensed things before? Things that other people didn’t know were there?”

  “Perhaps when you were a child,” Felicity added.

  “No,” Steve said. “I don’t see things that aren’t there. The patients have heard the song too, and so have other members of staff.”

  “I don’t mean it isn’t there,” I assured him, “just that you may be more sensitive to that kind of thing.”

  “It’s real,” he said. “Everyone hears it except Campbell. Come to the Heights tonight and you’ll hear it too.”

  “We’ll be there,” I said. “What time?”

  “I’ll call you when Campbell leaves.”

  “Okay.” We exchanged business cards. “And thanks for these.” I held up Ryan Martin’s records. “I know you’re risking a lot by giving them to me.”

  “I’m trusting you not to tell anyone about them.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  He got up and went to the door. Before he left, he turned to us and said, “If that ghost isn’t stopped soon, it’s going to make everyone in Butterfly Heights go crazy. I hope you can help us.”