Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) (21 page)

A flicker of emotion crossed the spirit’s features, and for a moment Agatha saw the soft-hearted Anne who had given her life to save the children. Then the face hardened and the wolf grin returned, filled with hunger and bloodlust.

“That’s not what the house wants, Agatha. We must appease it, for it serves the sleeping master.” The nightgown flowed around Anne’s form as if she were surrounded by water, the white fabric billowing in the still air, and her red locks writhing like live tentacles.

“The master is appeased by the sacrifice we made. No more blood needs to flow, Anne. That’s why we cast the spells, remember?”

“Can you not feel the hunger?”

She could. She felt it in every part of her being. The others could feel it too: the sisters in the basement, the members of the bloodline who were buried outside the house and no longer able to pass the threshold of Angel Manor.

“Are you keeping the living here?”

“I can’t, and you know it. I can only tempt them to stay. Only the child of the bloodline can bind them to the house… to the spell. Only she can force them to stay, not I.”

“What about the boy you killed?”

“I didn’t kill him, he killed himself. I just made him see it was the right thing to do.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t let him go.”

“Why would I let any of them go?”

“Because he would have told others. And there is one thing that will draw human beings… telling them not to go somewhere.”

Sister Anne seemed to contemplate her words, and then her face broke into a smile again. “I don’t need to tempt them. The Guardians will do so themselves. They will bring us new life in abundance.”

Sister Agatha reached out with her mind and found Anne’s. She saw the face of one of the guardians as he spoke to Anne, promising her many visitors to Angel Manor.

“They plan to make this place a hotel?” Her voice was high with panic.

“They will succeed. A new age dawns for us, the special one has arrived. She woke us all outside of the equinox.”

“No one knows what the prophecy means.”

Anne gave a sly smile. “We shall see what fate has in store for us.” And with that, her spirit disappeared, leaving Agatha with a growing sense of foreboding.

Chapter 17

“Are you headed into town?” Oliver didn’t even look up from his newspaper when he spoke.

“Yeah, I’m going to call Bam at her parent’s house. She didn’t call me when she landed so I’m starting to get a bit worried. I hate that it’s so hard to reach anyone here. I’m going to call BT as well.”

He took a sip from his coffee, still not making eye contact. “Don’t bother, I’ve already phoned them. They’re sending an engineer out on Monday.”

“That’s a relief. It means I won’t have to drive into Portree every bloody time we need to make a phone call. I can live another two days without a phone.”

“Oh, don’t go all the way to Portree. There’s a small town just south of Lucifer Falls. I think it’s called Aingeal or something. That place has a shop, a library and everything, even a phone booth if you can believe it, and it’s only half the drive.”

“It’s just off Lucifer Falls?” Freya raised her eyebrows.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, instead of going right, go left at the junction down below.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raised her thumb, and quickly felt awkward, so she rubbed her hands across her stomach as if she were straightening the fabric of her shirt.

“Bring me some aspirin okay? We’re out.”

“Again? I bought a whole box a few days ago… what happened to them? Have you been pretending they’re Pez?”

“No, I just get a lot of headaches. Must be the stress.” The paper rustled and Oliver’s brown eyes peered over the rim. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s been taking them. Those damn guys keep asking me for aspirins too.”

“Sheesh, no need to get so defensive, Oscar the Grouch.” Freya wrinkled her nose at him and tried to cheer him up with a funny face, but to her disappointment, she didn’t see a smile. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“My nights have been a bit restless,” he admitted. He flicked the page of his paper with a noisy gesture and broke eye contact. “Lack of sleep makes me grumpy.”

“Want to talk about it.”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’m going to head out and get this over with.” Freya inhaled deeply, her whole body resisting the idea of having to leave the grounds. She knew that as soon as she stepped off the property, the headaches and nausea would start. The thought alone made her quicken her step, but as she strode through the entrance hall, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Are you going out?”

Logan was standing against the doorframe of the South Wing, dressed in a pair of dusty blue jeans and a white sleeveless t-shirt. The sight of him made her squirm.

“Yes, just into town for an errand.”

“Can I hitch a ride with you? I want to pick up a few things too.”

“I can get them for you if you’d like. It’s no bother.”

“No, I’d rather go with you. It gives me a moment to myself, and I like the company. Unless you mind, of course.” The corner of his mouth curled in a twisted smile, and she laughed.

“Not at all, I’ll be glad of the company too.”

He strode casually towards her, both hands in his pockets. “I enjoyed talking to you last night.” He winked and she fought the rush of hot blood to her cheeks, failing miserably in the attempt.

“Me too.” She didn’t quite know how to act, so she picked up her pace again and opened the door. With a hop and a skip in her step, she darted down the stairs, Logan in tow.

“Are we going to Portree?”

“No, apparently there is a place that’s closer. Might give that a try. Portree is pretty far, and I don’t like staying away for too long.”

They stepped into the car, and Freya mentally prepared for the journey. Then she pushed the key into the ignition, turned it, and the car hummed to life. Logan fixed his seatbelt, and they pulled away from the manor. As soon as they left the grounds, Freya felt the familiar headache resurface, and she was unconvinced this was a coincidence. From the corner of her eye, she saw Logan pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” There was something hopeful in her voice. She wanted him to confirm how she felt, just so that she would feel less crazy.

“I don’t know. The worst headache just hit me. I hope I’m not getting a migraine.”

“I have that headache every time I leave the grounds. Then as soon as I get back, it disappears.”

“You said something like that before.”

Freya frowned and swallowed a lump in her throat.

“I think Bam had it too. That’s why I’m so worried about her. I just hope that it goes away when we’ve been gone long enough from the house. I would hate to think that she’s in the US with a stinker of a headache for the next few months.” She imagined Bam walking around with an icepack on her head and snarling at her parents. Her friend was not the most gregarious of people when she was unwell. The thought almost made her laugh, and Freya chewed on her lips. She tried to focus on the road, the urge to return to Angel Manor already nagging at her subconscious.

***

“Mrs Green?” Her hand clutched the black plastic handset of the old payphone. “This is Freya Formynder. I was wondering if Bambi had arrived home yet. I can’t seem to reach her on her cell phone. I dropped her off in Glasgow a few days ago and she said she was going to catch a flight to LA.”

“Freya?” The voice sounded broken. “You… you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” A cold fear clutched Freya’s throat.

“Oh, my poor baby…” Heartfelt sobs came through the phone and Mrs Green wailed words that Freya couldn’t understand.

“Mrs Green, what happened to Bam? … Mrs Green?” The woman wouldn’t respond, and Freya wanted to reach down the phone line and shake her. She pictured the overly-tanned woman, with her leathery skin and bleached blonde hair, screeching. A deeper voice sounded through the cries, and seconds later Mr Green’s baritone came through the phone.

“Who is this?”

“Freya Formynder, sir. I was calling to see if you’d heard anything from Bambi?”

“You mean, you don’t know?”

“Know what, sir?” Freya felt tears well up in her eyes and her throat was dry and raw. “Has something happened?”

“Bambi is dead, Freya. She died in Glasgow.”

“What… no…” Freya took an involuntary step back, her hand covering her mouth. “No… that can’t be. I only saw her a few days ago.”

“She slipped and fell in the bathtub. Hit her head. Drowned.” The man struggled with his words.

A high pitched wheeze escaped from her open mouth, but no other sound came. The grief was too deep, too painful to verbalise. Freya felt her knees buckle, and she sank to the floor of the phone booth, her forehead hitting the glass with a thud. The receiver didn’t reach that far down and it dangled near the top of her head. Freya was only dimly aware of the door opening, and Logan’s strong hands pulling her to her feet and out of the booth, where he allowed her to sit down again. She made herself small, sobbing, and he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” He listened for a moment. “This is Logan Masters, who am I speaking to?” There was a pause, and Freya buried her head in her pulled up knees. “Mr Green, I’m a friend of Freya’s. I don’t know what you told her, but…”

A voice crackled from the other side of the phone and Logan was silent again.

“Oh God… I… I’m so sorry. We weren’t expecting that. I…”

More crackling from the other side, Freya turned around and looked at him through her tears. He offered her a look of sympathy. “Mr Green…” The other man must have not let him speak because Logan was quiet again, and a hint of impatience flashed across his features. “I understand, sir. I’ll tell her…. yes… thank you. Goodbye.” He placed the receiver back on its cradle and stared at it for a moment, then he turned back to Freya.

“I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” The words burned at her throat as she spoke, but she needed to let them out. “If I hadn’t left… If I hadn’t left her there all alone…” Her chest ached, every muscle in her body cramped and a foul taste coated her tongue. Logan knelt down beside her and gathered her in a tight hug. He hurt her a little, but Freya welcomed the pain, there was a certain reality to it in a world that suddenly felt unreal.

“Shhh,” he soothed, rocking her back and forth. “This is not your fault. You aren’t to blame.”

“She was sick, like me… and I left her. I left her, Logan. I left her.” Her tears bled into his shirt, and she balled her fist around some of the fabric. “Oh God… I left her there to die.”

“Stop it, you did no such thing.”

“I should have known… but all I could think of was getting back to Angel Manor, so that I would feel good again. I was so selfish.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t be crazy.”

“I asked her to come, but she didn’t want to.” Her words were deep, sore hiccups. “I begged her to come back with me, but when she didn’t want to I gave up. I gave up on her. And now she’s dead, and I’ll never see her again. Ever… because she’s dead. Dead!” The word sounded alien to her ears, as if she had never heard it before.

This can’t be happening,
Freya thought.
Not to Bam. Not to a girl who was so alive, who was so full of energy. She can’t be dead.
The idea of Bam lying in some coffin somewhere, it was just too absurd for words. Her smiling face, the mischievous sparkle in her eye… Freya could think of nothing else. Snippets of memory that made up the puzzle of who Bam had been in life flooded her mind. The way she hiccupped when she laughed, or snorted drink through her nose when Freya made a face at her. The way she would crawl into Freya’s bed when she was scared, her body always the warmer of the two. The way she held Freya when she was sad, or stroked her hair with those brightly painted nails to ease a broken heart. All of that was gone. Bam would never be there for her again. Bam would never demand her attention again. All that was left was a void. For the last fourteen years, she had spent most of her days with Bam… that was more than half her life, and she would never see her again. Freya would have given anything to relive those last moments over again.

The shopping lay forgotten, as did Logan’s errands. The tall man half-supported, half-carried the crying Freya to the car, where he put her into the passenger seat with as much care as he could. She pulled her legs up to her chest, not even bothering with the seatbelt.

“Give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

She pushed her hand in the pocket of her jeans. The rough denim pressed into her thigh and scraped at the tops of her fingers, but she found the sharp metal key and freed it from its fabric prison. The car roared to life and the wheels crunched over the dirt road.

“The man on the phone… Mr Green?”

Freya nodded in response, her head resting heavily on the back of the seat and her eyes fixed on the window. Outside, the green of the countryside rushed past, trees flickered like the slats of a picket fence, creating a stroboscopic effect.

“He told me they had Bam’s body flown over to the US. The funeral will be held there. I think he told me what day… I… I can’t remember.”