Stolen Dreams (13 page)

Ian looked up from the equipment. “Something else inhabits
the dining room,” he repeated. “Now that doesn’t sound good.”

Mary sighed. “You unload the equipment,” she suggested. “And
I’ll take a look at what’s going on in the dining room.”

She stepped out of the parlor and back into the front hall.
The long, tall staircase was attached to one wall, and the hall continued to
the side and behind it on the first floor. The gas lamps only provided a little
light, and the huge, ornate furniture cast shadows onto the floor.
 
Mary’s heart began to accelerate and she took
a deep, calming breath.

You’re being
ridiculous
, she told herself. Y
ou’re
not afraid of ghosts.

She could hear her footsteps echo on the wooden floor
beneath her feet and felt her nerves intensify with every step she took away
from Ian and the front door.
 
She stopped
a few feet away from the door to the dining room and looked back over her
shoulder.
 
The door seemed so far away.
Maybe I ought to go back and get Ian,
she
thought.

She shook her head.
This
is ridiculous
, she chastised herself.
Sol
probably put in a subliminal tone that makes people anxious when they walk
around the house. Yes, that must be it. Well, I’m certainly not going to act
like I’m spooked. Sol would enjoy that far too much.

She took a deep breath and marched forward, placing her hand
on the crystal doorknob, opening the door and marching straight into the dining
room.

The door slammed closed behind her, and the gas lamps in the
room went out.
 

“Welcome, Mary O’Reilly,” she heard a menacing voice hiss in
her head. “We’ve been expecting you.”

A wave of terror crashed over her, unlike anything she’d
ever experienced.
 
She wanted to run, but
her legs were actually paralyzed with fear. “Who are you?” she whispered, her
voice coming out like a sob.

She heard the laughter echo within her head, like a chorus
of disembodied beings. “Let us show you.”

Suddenly she was caught up in a vision spinning through
time.
 
She twisted and turned like she
was riding a rollercoaster and caught glimpses of scenes thrown before her.
First there were flashes of darkness amongst the bright flashes of red and
yellow flames.
 
People were screaming,
running to try and escape the horror.
 
Lava exploded from the mountain nearby, and rivers of molten rock rushed
through the streets covering, burning and devouring all in its path. The cries
of pain as the lava burned through flesh tore at her soul.
 

The view twisted. The flames ended, and she was in a misty,
grey place with stone buildings and decrepit shacks all around her.
 
She could hear the cries of pain and of
mourning.
 
She saw the piles of bodies,
their flesh diseased and pock-marked.
 
She
saw children wandering in the streets, eating whatever they could find like
animals.
 

The scene changed and she realized this place looked
familiar.
 
She had seen photos of the
barbed-wired walls of the prison, the prisoners with their shaved heads and
tattooed arms, and the cruel, mocking calls of the guards as they herded the
group towards the concrete buildings.
 
The buildings on the edge of the compounds, the gas chambers.
 
She heard the cries and the choking. She
heard the last gasps of death.

Forcing her eyes closed, she tried to shake herself out of
the vision, tried to step out of the spell she was under. “I don’t want to see
this,” she tried to cry out, but unable to move or speak, Mary was helpless to
pull away.

“No,” she tried to scream as she was given a front seat view
to countless atrocities committed by mankind.
 
She saw evil triumph and innocence die.
 
She felt her own spirit weaken.

“This is who we are, Mary O’ Reilly,” the voices echoed. “We
will destroy the ones you save.”

She shook her head. “No!” she shouted back in her mind. “No,
you won’t.”

“This is
our
power, Mary O’Reilly,” it mocked her. “This is
our
world.
A world of hate and pain.
A world where the powerless are crushed by the powerful.”

“No,” she insisted. “You lie.”

“This is our world!” it demanded. “And we no longer find you
necessary in it.”

She felt as if all of the air in the room had been sucked
out. She gasped, fighting for breath. “No!” she screamed in her head. “You do
not control me.”

Darkness started to close in on her and she was beginning to
feel she had lost. “Please,” she whispered a prayer. “Please help me.”

“Mary!” Ian screamed, pounding on the door. “Mary, open the
door!”

The sound of his voice gave her hope. “Ian,” she
rasped,
her throat dry and hoarse. “Help me.”

A circle of light swept around Mary like a soft blanket, and
hope enfolded her. “Hey, sweetheart,” Mike whispered. “Can you walk with me?”

Energy flowed into her. Light replaced darkness and hope
replaced despair.
 
She took a deep, ragged
breath, like a person who had nearly drowned. “Mike,” she gasped. “Mike, it
was…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothed. “Now, come on, let’s get
out of this room before Ian decides to—”

The door burst open and crashed to the floor, its hinges
dangling from splintered wood. Ian charged into the room and stopped suddenly
when he saw Mary in Mike’s arms. “What happened?” he asked Mike, stepping up to
help Mary out of the room.

“Demons,” Mike said quickly. “Get her out of here now and
bring her back home. We can talk then.”

Ian led Mary out of the house and onto the front porch as
Sol came forward with the last pieces of equipment. “What happened to her?” he
asked, shaken at the pallor of Mary’s face and her unsteady movements.

“Your dining room door came crashing down on her,” Ian lied.
“Luckily I wasn’t too far away, so I could help her before it caused too much
damage to her or the baby.”

“But that door is supposed to be locked,” Sol blustered. “No
one’s supposed to go in there.”

Ian met the man’s eyes and saw the fear.
So, he knew something was wrong in that room
,
Ian thought.

“I’ll be asking you more about that room later,” Ian said,
“and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us about it. But now, I’ll be taking
her to the hospital to make sure everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, take her,” he said. “You want me to call an
ambulance?”

“No, I’ll take her on my own,” Ian replied. “But I’ll expect
you to lock up my equipment, and if everything’s fine with Mary, we’ll be back
tomorrow to set things up.”

Sol shook his head. “I can’t be here tomorrow,” he said,
sweat beading up on his upper lip. “I got a meeting in Chicago.”

Something was not right here. “You have a meeting in
Chicago?” Ian asked, letting his skepticism show. “And how would you feel about
letting me come back and set up my equipment on my own?”

Sol reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another
set of keys. “You’ve got my permission,” he said. “Only, let me call a guy and
get that dining room door fixed first. I don’t want
nothing
interfering with the study.”

“And you think the dining room will interfere with the
study?” Ian asked.

“I just
ain’t
interested in what’s
happening in the dining room,” he said adamantly. “We got that part of the
house closed off for remodeling.”

Ian took the keys, eliciting a promise from Sol that his
equipment would be locked up for the night, and then guided Mary to his
SUV.
 
“Did you get the number of the
truck that hit me?” Mary tried to joke as he helped her into her seat.

“I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go into that room
by yourself,” he said, shaking his head angrily. “I should have been there with
you.”

She placed her hand on his arm before he could close her
door, halting him in his steps. “Ian, it’s not your fault,” she said. “Neither
of us could have known what was waiting for me on the other side of that door.”

“But I should have…”

“How many times have we worked together each doing our own
thing and everything was fine?” she insisted. “You were only steps away.
 
You didn’t leave me unprotected. And, I think
it was your calling to me that broke me out of the trance they had me in.”

Ian sighed heavily and put his forehead against Mary’s
forehead. “If anything had happened to you…”

“Nothing did,” she said.

“Aye, something did,” he argued. “And we’re going to talk
about it once I get you home.”

In about fifteen minutes, Ian was pulling up into Mary’s
driveway where Bradley’s cruiser was already residing. Closing her eyes in
dismay, Mary sighed. “Mike is such a big-mouth guardian angel,” she said.

“Bradley’s got a right to know what happened,” Ian stated.

“But he’s going to worry,” Mary argued.

“I have a feeling he’s got good reason,” Ian replied.

The door to the house was open before Mary got the car door
open and Bradley was down the steps and across the yard in seconds. “Mary,” he
said, pulling her into his arms. “Are you okay?”

Immediately she felt the warmth from his embrace radiate
through her body, chasing the last vestiges of fear away, and smiled up at him.
“I’m doing better,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”

With his arm firmly around her shoulder and her body tucked
protectively against his, he led her back into the house. A few minutes later, resting
comfortably in a recliner in front of the fire with a cup of warm, chamomile
tea in her hands, Mary was ready to discuss the attack.
 

“First you need to know the dining room was supposed to have
been locked,” Ian said.
“So Sol knew something was wrong with
that room.”

“We both knew,” Marty said, appearing in the middle of the
room. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I had no idea it could attack.”

“It?”
Mary asked. “Was it there
when you bought the house?”

Marty shook his head. “No, the first time we met it was when
Sol and I were using
a
Ouija board in the dining
room,” he said. “It started controlling the pointer and it told us that it
could help us get rich and realize all of our dreams.”

“Did it tell you its name?” Mike asked.

Marty turned, saw Mike hovering next to Ian and jumped back.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Ah, well, hell has nothing to do with our Mike,” Ian
explained.
“Because he is, in fact, an angel.”

Marty stared for a few moments. “I
ain’t
never
seen an angel
before and I never thought they’d look like you.”

Mary waited for Mike’s witty rejoinder and was surprised
when he kept his serious demeanor. “It’s important,” Mike said. “Did he tell
you his name?”

Slowly shaking his head, Marty narrowed his eyes in
remembrance.
“Yeah.
Yeah, I think he did,” he said.
“It was one of the first times when we asked him. It was like one of those
little spring flowers.
 
You know those
ones that bloom before all the snow is gone.”

“Crocus?”
Mary asked. “His name was
Crocus?”

“No, it was something like that,” Marty said. “I
ain’t
too good at remembering, so I like to use stuff to
help me remember.
 
So the dining room
ghost was like a spring flower.”

“Was his name Crocell?” Mike asked, his eyes widening.

“Yeah!
Yeah, you got it,” Marty
replied with a smile. “That was his name.”

Mike took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, this is a lot
more complicated than I first imagined.”

“Mike, what’s going on?” Bradley asked, walking over and
sitting on the floor in front of Mary’s chair. “And who is this Crocell?”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that,” Mike replied. “But first, Mary
tell me what you experienced, everything you experienced.”

Bradley turned and took Mary’s hand in his. “Are you okay?”

She smiled and felt the pressure lessen. “Yes, I’m good now,
thank you,” she said. Then she looked over to Mike. “When I was walking to the
dining room, I really got a case of the creepy crawlies. I kept telling myself
that it was stupid, that I wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but I really wanted to run
back to Ian and have him come with me.”

“Which would have been a brilliant idea,” Ian inserted.

She looked his way and nodded. “I agree,” she said. “But I
convinced myself that I was being silly. I grabbed hold of the doorknob, opened
the door and marched inside, like I was going to show them.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “Several things happened
at once,” she continued. “The door slammed behind me and I was hit with this
overwhelming sense of terror.
 
I’ve been
in situations when I’ve been afraid before, but this was instinctual,
all-the-way to my core terror.
 
All I
wanted to do was run away.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bradley asked.

“Because I couldn’t,” she replied in a shaky voice.
“Because just when I was going to turn and run, I heard a voice
inside my head.
 
It knew my
name.
 
It said that they had been waiting
for me.”

“It called you by name?” Mike said.

“Well, it called me Mary O’Reilly, not Mary Alden,” she
said. “And it said or they said they’d been expecting me.”

“What the hell?” Bradley asked, turning to Mike. “What’s
that supposed to mean?”

Mike ignored Bradley and focused on Mary. “Why do you say
they?” he asked.

“Because when they spoke or when they laughed, it was like a
chorus of voices, not quite melding together, but echoing in my mind,” she
replied.

“And then what happened?” he asked.

“Using my thoughts, I asked ‘Who are you?’” she replied.
“And it laughed again and then suddenly it was like I was personally seeing all
of the terrible tragedies that had happened to mankind throughout the ages. I
think I saw Pompeii burning and I saw the impact of the Black Plague. Then I
saw a concentration camp and the scenes kept coming, each one as horrific as
the last, up to the terrible tragedies of today.”

“You saw evil,” Mike said, “in all its forms and
machinations.”

Mary nodded.

“Then what happened?” Mike asked softly, meeting Mary’s
gaze.

She looked directly at him and replied. “They said they no
longer find me necessary in this world and they tried to kill me. I felt like I
couldn’t breathe and everything was going dark. Then I heard Ian pounding on
the door, calling for me, and it snapped me out of whatever kind of trance they
had me in.
 
I tried to answer him, but my
voice didn’t seem to really work and then…” She paused and tears filled her
eyes, but she kept her gaze on Mike. “And then I finally prayed and you came.”

“I don’t understand,” Marty said. “Why would anything want
to hurt Mary? She just helps people.”

“Aye,” Ian said slowly. “She just rescues spirits that are
stuck here on earth and helps them go on to heaven. It must not make the other
side very happy.”

Mike nodded.
“Yeah, not happy at all.”

“But nothing like this has ever happened to me before,” she
said, shaking her head in confusion. “Why now?”

“Well, for a while you were under the radar a little,” Mike
replied. “But you’ve been doing more and more, and it takes them a while to put
a plan into action and get human beings to do their part.”

Mike looked at Marty. “When did you start hearing from
Crocell?”

“Last year, about this time of year,” Marty said. “And it
took us a couple of months to start getting really
creeped
out.”

“What
creeped
you out?”
Ian asked.

“Stuff starting moving around the room by itself,” he
answered, shivering slightly. “The door would slam shut, the windows would open
and the table would vibrate. Yeah, it was way too freaky for both of us.”

“But I thought that was what you wanted,” Mary said,
confused. “You suddenly had a haunted house. Why didn’t you use it?”

“Yeah, that was another thing this Crocell did,” Marty said.
“He would be all active when Sol and I were in the house, but when we had
guests arrive, nothing, nada. It was like he wasn’t there at all.
 
So, we got a bunch of write-ups that said we
faked the whole thing.”

Marty paused for a moment and looked around the room at each
person. “And then there were the dreams,” he said.

“What dreams?” Ian asked.

“I’d dream that I was in the house, and the house was filled
with guests, and I’d go into each of their rooms and I’d murder them,” he said.
“But in the dreams, it wasn’t a bad thing. It was like every time I stabbed
someone it gave me power.”

He looked at Mary.
 
“One time, I woke up and I found myself in the kitchen pulling a butcher
knife out of the drawer,” he admitted.
“Scared the hell out
of me.
 
I dropped the knife on the
floor and backed out of the kitchen.
 
I
spent the rest of the night sleeping in my car with a seatbelt on to make it
hard for me to sleepwalk.”

“Did Sol have those same kinds of dreams?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know. I never asked him,” Marty replied. “But I
finally told him that I couldn’t be there when we had guests in the house.
 
I made something stupid up, but he never
questioned it.
 
It was about that same
time that he decided we needed to lock up the dining room and tell the guests
that we were remodeling it.”

“But you weren’t going to remodel it,” Ian confirmed.

“No, but for some reason, that was the only place in the
house we ever felt it,” Marty said. “But Mary, it never ever called us by
name.”