Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) (15 page)

Fuck him! He opened that fucking door. I told him not to.

He turned away and limped up the stairs, his chin and leg throbbing with pain. He couldn’t put weight on the leg so he pulled himself along as much as walked. The dust from the stairs got into his mouth and lay thickly on his tongue, tasting of lime and filth. Once more, he looked back. Roger was being dragged into the back room, his hands clawing on the concrete in an attempt to get away from the eager hands pulling at his legs. For a moment, it looked as if he might get away, but then he was dragged into the pitch black with a heartbreaking wail and the door slammed shut behind him, muffling his screams.

The woman who stood at the bottom of the stairs looked at Lyndon one last time, and then she too disappeared. Lyndon snapped out of his trance and crawled out of the basement. He pulled himself up by the doorframe and limped out of the South Hall.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” His frantic voice was no more than a sigh in the emptiness of the abandoned wing. “What am I going to do now?” He thought about waking John Norris or Logan Masters. Heck, he would even settle for Jim McLeod right now, though the beardy Scot would probably make fun of him.

“I don’t know what to say…” Tears streamed down his eyes as he stumbled through the hall. “What if they think it was me who killed him? Who’s going to believe that there’s a bunch of psychotic, naked women in the basement?”

He didn’t know what to do; all he wanted was to get out of the house. Fatigue gnawed at his senses while the slow buzz of marijuana and blood loss made him sluggish. The hallway felt as if it would never end, and he cried softly. Lyndon didn’t come from a loving home, yet for the first time since he’d been a child, he longed for his mother. The house was so dark without a torch, and fear consumed him. He saw ghosts in every shadow, his paranoia flared up, and more tears came.

As he entered the main entrance hall, he heard soft, wet footsteps on the marble floor behind him. Lyndon whimpered. He couldn’t look back; the fear was too great. He tried to increase his pace but his right leg still hurt too much.

“Please, please…” his voice cracked. The footsteps followed him as he shuffled through the rooms, trailing blood behind him in long, slick tracks.

Relief washed over him when his hand closed over the doorknob of the entrance. The metal was cool under his hot, sweaty palm. He flicked his wrist and pulled the door open, a rush of fresh air caressing his skin as he stepped outside. For the first time, Lyndon dared to look back, and he saw the shape of a woman in a thin, white nightdress. She was different from the other spirits, less malevolent somehow, but there was something in her blank eyes that terrified him, and he stumbled away from the house. Soft humming voices filled his mind, and he scratched at his blood-soaked temples, his nails sinking into the deep wounds.

“Naw… I got out, please, I got out! Leave me alone!” Something landed under his eye and he slapped at it, the impact of his own hand making his ears ring and his jaw tremble. The skin flap on his chin tore a bit further, and Lyndon cried out with pain. His path was obscured by shadows that flitted around him with increasing speed, and though his leg hurt, Lyndon quickened his pace, desperate to put some distance between himself and that terrible house. “Get out of my head,” he screamed at the whispers, and he broke into a run, his bad leg barely holding him up. “Get out.”

He failed to see the cliff, not until he was right beside it. The toes of his Doc Martins peered over the edge, and he had to flail his arms to stay balanced. The shadows disappeared instantly, clearing his vision.

“I can’t let you go, I’m sorry.” The voice was soft and feminine, and Lyndon slowly turned to face the speaker. It was the woman in the white nightgown.

“Who are you?” his words were no more than sobs. “What do you want from me?”

“The Angels have claimed you, and it’s time for you to join us, Lyndon.”

“How do you know my name?” he whined, his shoulders slumped. His heart was heavy and he felt so tired. The idea of having to live with what he had seen, to know what was out there, was a burden he wasn’t sure he could carry. He couldn’t picture himself going back home to his parents, to sleep alone in a bed again. To close his eyes would mean seeing that woman again, her black teeth snapping at him. It would be seeing Roger’s nose explode with blood and gore… it would be reliving those terrible minutes back in that basement.

“You know what to do,” the woman urged him. Lyndon nodded. He looked down at the cliff and back to the spirit who floated a little above the ground. Then he stepped off. His body plummeted down, and for a moment, Lyndon soared like a bird. It was a magnificent feeling. His body released endorphins, and his trousers tightened against his erection. The world was the most beautiful place from here, and he had never been happier in his whole miserable life. Then he hit the first rocks. The impact shattered his collarbone and shoulder. The next hit broke both his legs, and the third collision smashed his skull, the bone splinters penetrating his brain, killing him instantly.

By the time his body reached the bottom of the cliff, there was very little left that was recognisable as Lyndon Farrow. His battered corpse landed in a patch of poppies, which gently kissed his dead flesh in the summer breeze.

Chapter 10

The heat made sharing a bed a special form of torture, Freya decided, but the way Bam lay shivering against her clammy body, she couldn’t bear to tell her she needed more space. Her friend was hot, yet she had the covers pulled up to her shoulders and goose bumps were visible on her skin.

That must have been some dream,
Freya thought, so she let the tips of her fingers slide across Bam’s arm.

“You’re awake too?” Bam’s voice quavered.

“Yeah.”

“How can anyone sleep in this heat?” Oliver sounded muffled through the pillows. “Three in a fucking bed too. We must be insane.”

“Sorry, Ollie.” There were tears in Bam’s voice. “I’ll go if you want.”

Oliver turned around, his eyes shining mildly in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

“I’m sorry, Bam. I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired. It’s been a weird day.”

“That it has.” Freya sat up in the bed. She couldn’t sleep anymore, and she just wanted the sun to come up. “Do you remember when we used to sleep like this all the time? Back in school?”

Oliver moaned, turned around, and threw his head demonstratively into the pillow.

“Yeah, good times…” Bam’s voice trailed away. Freya’s mind conjured the image of the four young people lying in two singles pushed together to make one bed.

“Chuck was still alive then.” Bam looked at her with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t be sorry. Those were different days. Chuck… well, things were different then.”

“Why do you think you started dreaming about Chuck, Bam?”

“It wasn’t a dream.” There was no venom in Bam’s voice, and she pushed herself up against the headboard until she sat next to Freya. “I don’t think it was.” Her eyes fluttered and she leaned back, a sigh escaping from her lips. “Maybe it was a dream. I’m not sure now. Everything is so messed up.”

The regular sound of Oliver’s heavy breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep. Freya envied him for his ability to sleep under any circumstance. Sleep didn’t come easy to her at the best of times, and being in a bed with her freaked out friend on a hot summer’s eve wasn’t helping. Something was bothering Bam, and Freya wanted to know what it was. She didn’t believe her friend had been attacked by a ghost, but something had definitely rattled her pretty badly.

“This ghost or dream, or whatever it was, must have come from somewhere.” Freya ran the back of her index finger down Bam’s arm. “I think you might know why. Care to tell me?”

Bam crossed her arms over her chest and hugged her shoulders. Her head hung down and tears glistened in her eyes. Freya’s brow furrowed in worry.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I think it’s because I have the potential to be happy here. It’s bringing out all my demons.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Chuck was still alive, our… our relationship was complicated.” Bam didn’t meet her eyes, her chin resting in the cross where her wrists came together.

“Chuck was a little overbearing, I remember. He was overprotective.”

Bam gave a snort filled with bitter resentment, and she turned her head sharply to Freya.

“It was worse than overbearing, Frey. He wasn’t overprotective, he was possessive. Chuck considered me to be his, and he didn’t like sharing his toy. He only tolerated you two because he liked you.” Bam’s pretty face was screwed up and ugly with the malice from her words.

“I don’t understand.”

“You have this effect on men, Freya. Look at the builder guy; he’s totally into you.”

“What does this have to do with Chuck?”

“The only reason that Chuck hung out with you is because he found you attractive, which was fine with me, because that meant he let me hang out with you too.”

“You’ve lost me. You really have. What are you trying to say here?”

“That Chuck treated me as his possession. That he ruined any chance I had of happiness with other guys. Not because of love, but because he was a horrible person.” The tears came so sudden and with such ferocity that Freya was taken aback by Bam’s outburst. “And I let him, Frey. I let him rule me, and I did everything that he wanted.”

“What did you let him do?”

“I let him decide who I could date, what I could wear… I let him touch me, Freya…”

The words hit like a mallet to the head, and every muscle in Freya’s body tensed. Her back pressed into the headboard as she tried to comprehend what her friend was telling her.

“You… let him… touch you?” She tried to keep her voice steady, void of emotion, but the image of Chuck touching his sister made her stomach cramp up. “He forced himself on you?”

“It’s more like he guilt-tripped me into sex. Chuck always had this power over me, and I would do anything for him. He knew that.”

“He raped you.”

“I wouldn’t call it rape. I never said no.”

“This is disgusting.”

“You’re making me feel dirty.” Tear-stained eyes turned to her, and guilt knotted Freya’s thoughts.

“No, not you… him. You were a victim in this, Bambi…”

“Don’t call me Bambi, please. You know I hate my real name.”

“Sorry. This… this is so much to digest.” Freya threw her arms around her friend. “I had no idea, Bam… if only you’d told me. I could have helped you.”

“I couldn’t tell you. I was a part of this, Freya. I didn’t say no. I agreed to everything. It was just how it was.”

“He used you. Don’t put this on yourself. That’s not right.” She leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “Jesus, no wonder you dreamed what you did.”

“I… I don’t know. I just want to be happy, and I thought this place would do it for me. I’d be with you and with Ollie, and everything would be okay. But it’s not. I think I may be losing my mind, and I have to admit, I’m frightened of this house now. Maybe you’re right, maybe it was just a dream, but I can’t stand having another dream like that again. I just can’t.” She shook her head with such force that Freya feared she would bump her head against the wood, and so she pulled her friend towards her, wrapping her arms around her.

“You need to find some help, and work your way through your past.”

“I know.” Bam’s tears flowed freely again, Freya could feel them stain her t-shirt. “Oh God, Frey, what am I going to do?”

Freya rocked her back and forth for several minutes in silence, her heart heavy and her mind spinning. She didn’t know what she would do without Bam, but she knew that her friend couldn’t stay here. There was too much going on with the house and Freya couldn’t play babysitter. She wished she could, but this was the worst possible time for Bam to have a breakdown.

“How about you take a break? Go see your parents in Los Angeles for a while? Take in some sun, go see Disneyland. Maybe get some therapy while you’re there?” She pushed her gently away and lifted her tear-streaked chin, forcing Bam to face her. “How does that sound?”

Bam nodded, but there was doubt in her eyes, and Freya knew that sending her friend to parents who had neglected her all her life wasn’t ideal, but she had no better ideas.

“We’ll drive to Glasgow in the morning. Find ourselves a hotel and get a ticket for you to go to LA.”

A loud snore from Oliver made both girls jump. They exchanged another glance and laughed softly.

“I don’t want to go to my parents.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No, LA will be fine. I have some other relatives there. But I’ll be back as soon as I can. I want to do this; I want to run this hotel with you guys.” The corners of her mouth curled. “Pursuit of happiness and all that shit.” She sniffed, but with a brave smile.

“Good girl. Nothing can keep you down for long.”

“Unless you find out that this house really is haunted. Then I’m not coming back.”

“If that’s the case, I’m burning this place to the ground and moving to LA with you.” They hugged, laughing softly into each other’s necks. Freya hoped that she was doing the right thing in sending Bam away.