The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4) (10 page)

“It’s fascinating to me, personally,” the Sheriff said, “that
grown men and women such as yourselves would sit here, night after night,
wasting your time, trying to make contact with deceased individuals. We already
know what happens in the next life, do we not, Brother Blackham? Have we not
learned that from the prophet, and hear it every Sunday from President Woodruff
and the leaders of our great church? With that knowledge, it seems odd to me,
and to most of the members of this community, that you would all choose to meet
here as you do, attempting to pierce the veil. The veil is in the temple, is it
not? Not here in your house, Brother Blackham. If I were your bishop, sir, I
would be looking into this dark habit of yours.”

“My interest in Spiritualism in no way impedes my faith, Sheriff
Stewart!” Henry replied with conviction. “It merely adds to it.”

“If there’s more to be added,” the Sheriff replied, “I look
to the presidency of the church to provide it, as is their privilege, not to
the corpses in the ground next door. That is what you do, is it not? Attempt to
speak with the bodies of the deceased in the cemetery just west of here? Seems
a rather perverted and obscene idea, if I say so.”

“It is not!” Langford spoke up. “What we do here is decent
and spiritual. You have no idea how wrong you are, Sheriff!”

“Decent and spiritual?” the Sheriff replied. “Three people
missing, and you say this is a decent and spiritual endeavor?”

“Let us show you!” Jacob offered. “We’ll conduct a séance
right now, and you can see for yourself the innocent nature of it.”

“I won’t!” Mary said. “I won’t be part of it again.”

“You can observe with the Sheriff,” Jacob replied. “Stand in
the corner of the room and watch.”

“Don’t!” Mary said to the Sheriff. “If Bingham comes, we’ll
be sitting ducks! He’ll pluck us away as easily as he took the others!”

“Sister Pingree is under the impression that the recently
buried murderer, Willard Bingham, is responsible for the disappearances,” Henry
told the Sheriff.

“Yes, I know,” the Sheriff answered. “She and I have spoken
at length about what goes on here. She has her opinion of the cause of the
disappearances, but I have other suspicions. The crimes I look into usually
have simple explanations. Having watched as the earth was piled over Willard
Bingham, I doubt his involvement.”

“You suspect one of us,” Henry offered.

“I’ve known most of you for years, so I find it hard to
suspect any of you,” the Sheriff answered. “Then again, when good people dabble
with the devil, who knows what can happen.”

“This isn’t anything satanic,” Jacob offered. “Let us show
you.”

“I would like to see what you do here,” the Sheriff replied.
“It might enlighten me, particularly if you will re-create what you did the
last two nights.”

“It’s always the same,” Henry said. “We sit around the table,
and I turn off the lights.”

The group began to move toward the seats of the table, Mary
hanging back, walking to the Sheriff and taking his arm.

“This is not a good idea,” Mary said to the Sheriff.

“I intend to observe, Sister Pingree,” the Sheriff said to
her, patting her hand, “so that I may discern the true nature of these
proceedings and claims. I am armed, so be calm.”

The others took their positions around the table, and Henry
moved to the gas light switch. Once they were all seated, he asked, “Is
everyone positioned comfortably?”

No response was given, and Henry doused the lights, plunging
the room into darkness. They heard the sound of Henry’s chair pulled from the
table, as he joined the others. Then they heard the sound of a match striking.

A flame danced in front of the Sheriff, and he brought the
match to a candle he produced, igniting the wick.

“We usually operate in the dark,” Henry said.

“The dark is a convenient cover for mischiefs and criminals,”
the Sheriff said, shaking out the match and lowering the candle. “Tonight you
will proceed with at least this much light.”

“Very well, but I cannot assure the outcome,” Henry replied.

“Our outcomes were never assured,” Lorenzo added.

“When Bingham arrives, I intend to know his whereabouts!”
Mary said, her voice quivering. She held onto the Sheriff tighter.

“Now then,” the Sheriff said. “Please continue, Brother
Blackham.”

Henry cleared his throat and let the room become quiet once
again. After a few moments, he began a familiar call to the spirits, one the group
had heard many times. After the call, the room once again fell to silence, and
they waited.

Lorenzo glanced at Jacob. He was seated to his right, next to
Peter Call and Langford Orton. Jacob was looking back at him, smiling.
I
wonder what Jacob has planned,
he thought, then broke his gaze and closed
his eyes, not wanting to appear too different from the others around the table
while the Sheriff was watching.

The silence continued for a few more minutes, and Henry
repeated the call, asking for those who had news of Abraham, Joseph or Althea
to come forward and share their knowledge. After, silence again enveloped the
room, and they waited.

Lorenzo had just opened his eyes when he felt the tingle at
his spine. This time, the signal caused him alarm instead of excited
anticipation. Something was about to happen, and he felt fear rising in his
chest, making it feel tight. He took a deep breath to try and relieve the
tension.

Then a breeze blew through the room. The entire group seemed
startled by it, having never experienced such a phenomenon before, and Lorenzo
looked once again to Jacob just as Mary screamed and the light from the Sheriff’s
candle flickered.

Standing behind Jacob and Peter was a tall man with wild
eyes. His hair was disheveled, and his face contorted into a smile that exposed
missing teeth. His hands landed on the men’s shoulders just as the light
extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

Mary screamed again, and was joined by outbursts from some of
the men around the table. There was fumbling as chairs were pushed back, and
after a few seconds Henry turned on the lights. Peter and Jacob were gone. The Sheriff
had his pistol drawn, and was already running around the table to the kitchen.
Others followed him.

The Sheriff ran out the back door and into the yard, where he
began a thorough search, ordering Langford and Jonas to assist him. The search
progressed throughout all the yards of the mansion, and eventually the Sheriff
came back inside, demanding to see each room of the house. He carefully
inspected each closet and bureau. After a half hour of searching, he stopped.

“You saw him, did you not?” Mary asked the Sheriff. “You saw
Bingham.”

“It certainly looked like him,” the Sheriff replied.

“His hands were on their shoulders,” Lorenzo said. “Did any
of you see that? He was touching them.”

“I saw it,” Espy offered. “It was Bingham, of that I’m sure.”

“It was someone who looked like him,” the Sheriff replied.
“Bingham is six feet under.”

“You see that it was none of us!” Henry said. “None of us
were involved with this.”

“I know no such thing!” the Sheriff replied. “There may be a
conspiracy here. More will have to be uncovered before I know it all, but I
intend to find out! I’m sending you all home now, but none of you are to leave
your homes or places of work until you hear from me. You will go about your
normal daily routines. If any of you take off, I’ll consider that an admission
of guilt and I will have you tracked down, you hear me?”

There was a murmur of assent through the group.

“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Consider your group disbanded,
Brother Blackham, by order of the county. No one is to gather here for another
séance under any circumstances. Now go on home. Go be with your families, where
you should have been tonight instead of here, practicing this wickedness. Go
on, get on home! All of you!”

Lorenzo found his coat, his heart heavy. Jacob was gone, just
like the others, and he felt helpless to do anything about it. He dreaded
having to tell Tabitha the news. His only hope was that whatever Jacob had planned,
it might save him from Bingham. And maybe, if he was lucky, it could save the
others, too. As he recalled Bingham’s wild, rabid eyes, he feared the worst for
his brother-in-law.

In the two weeks since the night Jacob was lost, Tabitha had
become increasingly despondent. Lorenzo had tried to comfort her, but she was
angry with him for having dabbled in Spiritualism, and her opinions, having
been at one time supportive, now switched to align with the town, considering
the séances at the Blackham mansion to have been evil in nature and the likely
cause of their missing relatives.

Lorenzo had reviewed in his mind Jacob’s final words in the
kitchen that night, hoping he might find in them something encouraging. The
more Lorenzo thought it through, the more convinced he became that Jacob may
still be alive, trying to execute some plan. It occurred to him that Jacob
might need assistance, and Lorenzo began to plot ways that he might help Jacob.
If he were to enter the River at the Blackham mansion, perhaps trance there as
well, he might be able to contact Jacob and the others who were missing. There
was a chance he could help, or at least discover what had happened to them. The
Sheriff’s order forbidding a séance didn’t preclude him visiting Henry and Emma
on a social call. He decided to go there in the middle of the day, when no one
would suspect that his arrival would be for an evening séance.

“Lorenzo!” Emma said as she opened the door. “Please, come
in!”

Emma’s graciousness gave him a sense of calm, lowering the
building anxiety he’d developed on the ride to the house. She escorted him through
the entryway and turned left, into the parlor.

“Henry’s out back,” she said. “Did you want to see him?”

“I would like to, yes,” Lorenzo replied. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Lorenzo,” she said, smiling. “It’s
good to see you again. It’s been so long since anyone came around. The house
feels very lonely. Please, sit.”

Lorenzo sat in a padded chair and awaited Henry’s return.
Within minutes Henry arrived, looking sweaty and dirty from yard work.

“Lorenzo!” he said, extending his hand as he strode into the
room. “Thank the Lord someone has finally come to visit. We feel like pariahs!”
After they shook, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You’ll have
to excuse me, I’ve been working in the yard.”

“I always thought it was Emma who kept the yard up,” Lorenzo
said.

“We both do. We love it outside. The roses are always in need
of care. So what can I do for you?”

Lorenzo took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I have a
favor to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“I want to try and contact Jacob, here in the house.”

The room went silent for a moment, then Lorenzo watched as a
sly smile spread across Henry’s face. “Oh, Lorenzo, I was afraid the whole
group had given up! I’m thrilled to hear you say that!”

“Not a séance, mind you.”

“No, of course not.”

“I want to try and contact him myself. Jacob and I always had
a special connection, and I think he may have been up to something the night he
disappeared.”

“Really?” Henry asked, his eyebrows rising. “What?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I continue to have the feeling
that he’s still alive, perhaps battling for his life. I’m hoping I can help
him, or at least find out more about what’s happened to him. And maybe the
others.”

“I am one hundred percent behind you,” Henry said
enthusiastically. “How do you want to proceed?”

“I’d like a quiet room, where I can remain undisturbed for a
period of time. I’m sorry Henry, but I can’t invite you to join me on this.
It’s something I have to do alone.”

“If you insist,” Henry replied. “I’ll put you in our master
bedroom upstairs. The children are at school and won’t be home for hours. I’ll
talk to Emma and we’ll remain silent downstairs, until you return. Will that
accommodate you?”

“You’re hospitality is unbounded, as usual,” Lorenzo replied.

“Anything to make some progress,” Henry said. “I’d like to
get this matter resolved so we can reform the group and continue our work. Come
with me, I’ll take you up.”

Henry led Lorenzo to the staircase and they ascended to the
top floor, moving through the hallway until they reached the master bedroom.
Once inside, Henry helped Lorenzo situate himself in a chair near the bed, and
asked if there was anything else Lorenzo required.

“No, I’m well enough off,” Lorenzo replied. “I don’t know how
long this might take, Henry. If you can give me as much solitude as you can, I
would be grateful.”

“Emma and I will be silent as mice,” he said as he left the
room, pulling the door closed. “Good luck, Lorenzo.”

“Thank you.”

He heard the faint sound of Henry descending the stairs. The
mansion was well built, and sounds didn’t echo through the house as they did in
most modest homes. As he appreciated the silence, he looked around the
well-appointed room. Directly in front of him was a beautiful mirror with a gilded,
ornate edging. He saw himself sitting, and decided to close his eyes and relax.
Then he slipped into the River.

He explored the interior. Henry and Emma weren’t in it.
They
must be outside,
he thought. He methodically checked each room, looking for
any sign of Jacob or the others who had disappeared. The house looked normal in
all respects, except for the faint loss of color it always seemed to exhibit
when viewed in the River. He drifted to an upstairs window at the end of the
hallway, and saw the couple in the back yard, working around a small barn. They
were far enough away that they’d never hear him if he were to call out. He
truly had the house to himself. Seeing the barn, he wondered if it should be
inspected, too. He decided to go outside, and began drifting to the kitchen door,
hoping he’d be able to open it. Ghosts had always been skilled at opening
doors, and he’d picked up the ability through many exercises with Jacob over
the years. He reached the door and grabbed the handle. No extra effort was
required to twist the handle and pull it open — it seemed designed to be easily
manipulated within the River.

Then he saw the front entryway, through the kitchen threshold.
His mind went into overdrive, trying to understand what he was seeing. It was
the kitchen door. The back yard should be beyond. Instead it was the front
entryway, as though he was looking in through the front door.

His heart began to pound in his chest as his fear grew.
Jacob
said something about seeing the kitchen when he looked out the front door. That’s
what I’m seeing now...did Jacob go into this new house?

He crossed the threshold, observing the duplicate house with
a sense of wonder. Things looked exactly the same; at least, the things he
remembered seemed incredibly similar. He drifted through the living room and
into the central room, where the large round séance table rested, vacant and
uncovered. Everything appeared normal, except for one thing: the coatrack. It
was loaded with a dozen different coats. He recognized them as the jackets of
the group. There, on a bottom hook, he saw his own.

Why are these jackets here?

He went around the séance table and to the kitchen, where he
opened the door to the outside. Another front entryway.

A third house, waiting for me to explore
, he thought.
But I haven’t
explored the one I’m in just yet.
He closed the door, and turned to drift back
into the other rooms, passing the séance table and the living room. He went
down the hallway. At its end he found the stairs, and to his left, another
hallway that ran west, with doors to rooms on either side. At the far end of
the hallway was door — he knew it to be an exit, leading to the garden. He
drifted to it, and opened it. Another kitchen appeared.

Now his mind was really reeling. He closed the door and
drifted back, the feeling that he could become literally lost by entering the
additional houses washing over him, making him feel anxious.
Finish
exploring this house first,
he thought.
Don’t miss anything. You might
miss Jacob.

He checked through the rooms in the hallway, finding no one
or anything unusual inside. Then he drifted to the stairwell and ascended.

In the long upstairs hallway he saw the windows where he’d
looked down on Henry and Emma, as they worked in the yard. He drifted to the
windows again, expecting to see them. They weren’t there.

They might have moved to another part of the yard,
he thought.

He entered each of the rooms upstairs, glancing out the
windows to check for Henry and Emma. They were nowhere to be seen.

Finally he reached the master bedroom, where he knew his
physical body was sitting. He opened the door, expecting to see himself sitting
on the chair.

Instead, he found a body slowly swinging from a rope.

Now he was on full alert. He approached the body carefully,
looking at the face, trying to see who it was. The head was three feet above
him, and the corpse had begun to drip a substance onto the ground below. The
man’s hands swung loosely beside him, and Lorenzo saw that the flesh had been
gnawed from them, leaving bone in some places. He drifted higher to see the
body’s face better. Although it was bloated and discolored, it was Abraham. He
could tell by the beard.

He heard a thump just outside the room in the hallway, and
thought it might be Henry or Emma, returned to the house.

They won’t return to this house,
it occurred to him.
They’ll
return to the first house. Whatever is there, it isn’t Henry or Emma.

It’s Bingham.

He turned to look at the doorway of the room, just as the
tall figure of Willard Bingham walked into it. His eyes were wild and wide,
just as he’d seen him in the flickering candlelight two weeks ago. Bingham saw
Lorenzo, and his mouth opened as though he was anticipating a meal. He rushed
toward him.

Lorenzo dropped from the River, sensing the room change. He
took a large breath and opened his eyes. The master bedroom. Five feet away was
where Abraham’s body had been hanging, dripping liquid onto the rug. He turned
to look at the door. Still closed, just as Henry had left it.

He spun his head, checking to make sure Bingham wasn’t in the
room with him. Empty. Just him, sitting in the chair.

He stood, feeling his legs shake under him. The sudden attack
of Bingham had frightened him.
If that’s what Jacob is battling,
he
thought,
God help him!

Then he wondered if he would have found Joseph or Althea had
he explored one of the other houses.

I have to go back in,
he thought.
I have to find Jacob.

He sat back down and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He
slipped into the River again, prepared to drop out quickly if he encountered
Bingham.

Instead, he found himself alone in the master bedroom, just
as the first time. He drifted into the hallway, expecting to see the murderer
as soon as he entered it. It was empty.

He walked down the hallway, stopping at the windows at the
end. Henry and Emma were still there by the barn, hauling large rose branches.

They’re here,
he thought
. Here in the first house, as I suspected. This
is the original, the real one. The others are copies.

He drifted downstairs and to the ground floor, then rounded
the corner and through the hallway toward the front entryway. He opened the
door, and there was the kitchen of the second house — and Bingham entering the
kitchen through the doorway from the central room. Once again Bingham smiled,
showing missing teeth, and ran wildly at Lorenzo.

Lorenzo’s first, instinctual reaction was to shut the door.
Once he had, he dropped again from the River.

He knows I’m prowling,
Lorenzo thought.
He’ll be waiting for me. If I’m going to
go back in, I need to wait until he decides to wander somewhere else instead of
waiting to pounce on me.

I’ll try again tomorrow,
he thought, and stood. He walked to the bedroom door
and opened it, then walked through the upper hallway. When he reached the
windows that overlooked the backyard, he couldn’t help but look out them —
Henry and Emma were still there by the small barn, working.

He walked downstairs and to the kitchen, leaving the house by
the back door so he could talk to them.

▪
▪
▪

“I should never have told you!” Lorenzo said.

“No, this can work, Lorenzo!” Henry replied.

Emma, who was by his side in the parlor, had a worried look
on her face, concerned with her husband’s enthusiasm. “Listen to Lorenzo,
Henry!” she said. “Please!”

“If we focus the séance on the duplicate house, I’m sure we
can pierce through! We can rescue the others! I’ll contact the Ortons and a few
more, and we’ll assemble tomorrow afternoon, in secret!”

“It won’t work,” Lorenzo said. “Someone will just get killed
in the process.”