The Girl in the Glass (17 page)

"Let's head for the parlor," said Schell.

Antony nearly tripped over the butler in the foyer. When he held the lighter close to the body, it became evident that the man had been strangled. His eyes were huge, his tongue hung from the side of his mouth, and there were angry black-and-blue marks around this throat. Schell knelt and checked the man's pulse.

"Forget it," he said.

Everything was happening so fast, and I was at least partially in shock from the sight of the bodies. Every second, I expected someone to leap out of the darkness and wrap their fingers around my throat. As we inched forward into the shadows, I tried to clear my mind enough to think what part of the house Isabel might be in.

We stumbled through the dining room, and it was there Morgan spotted two candles, which she appropriated. Antony lit them and gave his lighter a rest. Schell took one and gave me the other.

"I think the servants' quarters are on the other side of the house," he said. "You'd better go and find Isabel. Antony, go with him."

"Don't know if we should split up, Boss," said the big man.

"Time could be important," said Schell. "Miss Shaw and I will see if we can locate Parks in that parlor where we always met with him. We'll be careful, and believe me, if we need you, you'll hear me scream." Antony shook his head, still unhappy with the arrangement. I didn't think it was such a great idea myself, but I knew Schell was right. In the time we would spend trying to find Parks, something could be happening to Isabel. We moved through the dining room and came to a main hallway that connected the eastern and western sides of the mansion.

As Antony and I were inching along, listening for sounds of an intruder, he whispered to me, "I'll bet you wish I'd brought the gun."

"From here on out, I'll never try to dissuade you from carrying the gun," I said. Passing through the indoor swimming pool area, the candlelight reflected off the water and the large glass panes of the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a dazzling display. Beyond that, the ballroom was a vast, echoing box of blackness. Eventually we came to the hallway that held the door to the room in which Isabel and I'd had our tryst. We'd taken no more than two steps down that corridor when I thought I heard something at the other end.

Lowering the candle so that my vision would not be disturbed by the glare of the flame, I peered into the shadows.

"Did you hear a noise down there?" asked Antony.

"Yeah," I said, and as I spoke, I caught sight of something moving, like a blur. It darted from one side of the hall to the other. I stopped, and Antony walked into me. "There's something down there," I said.

"Kill the light," he said, and when I was too slow to carry out his order, he leaned over my shoulder and blew out the flame.

Smoke rose up in front of me, and for a second that's all I could see, but when that cleared, I saw it again—a white form, like a ghost. It leaped across the hall.

"Shit, I see it," he said. "What the hell is that?"

Next thing I knew, it was moving toward me at an incredible rate, as if flying just above the ground. I was going to warn Antony, but before I could get the words out, a very material fist struck me square in the face and sent me sprawling sideways against the wall. I dropped the candle and very nearly passed out from the blow but held on, teetering in a crouch halfway between standing and falling. I blinked once, twice, to clear my vision, and when I could see straight again, what I saw was Antony's shadow wrestling with the white form. They moved from one side of the hall to the other, banging into the walls, and the sound of the big man's grunts was interspersed with those of fists hitting their marks. My eyes began to adjust to the darkness in time to see Antony's silhouette cock back its right hand and land a haymaker directly into what should have been the phantom's head. The white form was driven back by the blow, but it seemed unhurt as it sprang forward again. Some small object hit me in the chest.

"Kid, the lighter. Find the candle and…"

I dove down and scrabbled on the floor to find the lighter. When I sparked it, I noticed the figure had its hands around the big man's throat. I wanted to believe it was just a man, but I wasn't convinced. It was nearly as tall as Antony, pure white, and disfigured in some way I couldn't focus enough to discern. The two were ever moving in and out of the glow from the lighter's flame, and I couldn't get a clear view for more than half a second at a time.

Antony was trying to say something to me, but his words came forth as a kind of gurgling, and judging from the position of the shadowed figures I could tell the thing was strangling him. I forgot my search for the candle, leaped up behind the phantom, and set the flame of the lighter against its back. There followed a high-pitched squeal, like the cry of a wounded animal, and then its elbow shot back and caught me in the chest. I was knocked off my feet by the incredible force of the impact and lay gasping for breath.

I lost consciousness for no more than a few seconds, and when I came to, I managed to prop myself up on my elbow and again flick the lighter to life. Just then another form appeared in a frantic whirl from behind the phantom, who had Antony up against the wall and was obviously wringing his neck. This new presence lifted something high in the air and brought it down on the head of the attacker. There was a dull thud. The phantom dropped its arms, staggered back, and Antony recovered enough to lash out with a right and then a left, landing two punches, either one of which would have put a normal man in the hospital. The thing retreated, turned, and ran into the darkness at the other end of the hall. A moment later there was a sound of glass shattering, and without turning to look, I knew the phantom had smashed through the window at the end of the hall in order to escape.

"Fuck," I heard Antony say in a hoarse whisper. "Kid, you still alive?" Then there was a hand holding the candle up to the flame of the lighter that was still lit in my hand. I turned and saw Isabel's face. She was leaning down to kiss me.

TALK TO ME

I
sabel and I had to help Antony along for a good part of the journey to the opposite side of the mansion. I got under one arm, she got under the other, and I know he must have been in pain and perhaps dizzy, because there were times when it felt like he was bearing down on us with his full weight. I wanted to know how he felt but didn't want to ask, as every time he tried to speak it came out as a rasping cough. Eventually, he let go of us, straightened up, and croaked, "Okay." Still he moved slowly, and we had to wait up for him.

We finally saw light ahead, emanating from the parlor where we'd had our initial meetings with Parks. I called out for Schell as we approached the room. He came to the door, holding the candle, and waved us on. As we entered, he said to me, "Parks is dead."

"How?" I asked, trying to see into the shadows beyond the bubble of the combined candlelight. Morgan Shaw appeared behind Schell like a specter of some kind herself, her face and hair aglow.

"Horrible," she said with an anguished expression.

"It looks like someone drove their thumbs into his eyes. His face is a bloody mess; empty eye sockets. There's nothing we can do here," said Schell.

Antony sidled past Isabel and me. "Boss," he said in a harsh whisper, "we've gotta scram."

"Yeah," said Schell, and then the sound of Antony's voice registered, and he looked up at the big man's face. "What the hell happened to you?"

"We ran into the killer," I said. "I'll tell you in the car. Let's go." Schell's gaze remained locked on Antony for a moment as he addressed Isabel. "Listen, the butler and the guard are already dead, are there any others still in the house?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "The other maids live in town. They go home at night." For the first time since she'd rescued Antony and me, there were tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, and I put my arm around her.

"Go," said Schell. Finding our way by the light of the candles, we moved quickly toward the front of the mansion with Isabel leading the way and Antony bringing up the rear.

It was a great relief to finally stand outside in the cool night air where there were no dark corners to conceal murderous things. I took a few deep breaths while waiting for Antony to catch up. When we got to the car, the big man handed the keys to Schell and waited for Morgan, Isabel, and me to squeeze into the backseat. As soon as the Cord was running, Schell put it in gear and took off, driving as fast as he could bear, down the long driveway. We passed the dead guard, lying next to his booth, and two minutes later were out on the road, making for home.

Schell eased off the gas once we had escaped the grounds of the estate. "Talk to me," he said. I filled him in on our meeting with the phantom, describing as best I could the look of it, the way it moved and its strength. When I was done, Antony, who'd been resting with his eyes closed, sat forward and said, still having trouble speaking in a normal tone, "Whatever he is, this guy's strong, like an animal. I hit him with shots that could crack stone, and he just kept coming. If it wasn't for Isabel here, me and junior would have been up shit creek."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Schell asked her.

"It had been dark outside for only a little while. Then, suddenly, all the lights went out. I left my room and went to find Mr. Parks to see if he needed my help. I found him in the parlor. He'd lit a candle and was sitting at his desk, looking at something. 'The phone line is dead too,' he said to me when I came into the room. I asked him if he wanted me to get Mr. Quigley, the butler, but he said not to worry about it, he'd find him in a few minutes.

"I was heading back to my room, when something passed me in the hallway—like a ghost. I ran back to warn Mr. Parks something was in the house. When I got to the parlor entrance, he was fighting the thing. It had his head in both its hands. Mr. Parks saw me at the doorway and yelled for me to run. As I ran, I heard him screaming for his mother, and I knew he was dying. I hid, and the fantasmo was trying to find me. Then I heard Diego's voice in the hall, came out, and saw them fighting with it. I went to help."

"The police are going to be looking for you," said Schell. "First they'll be looking for your body, and when they don't find it, they'll be looking for you. You and Morgan had both better stay at my place for the time being."

Schell's proposal was met with silence, and eventually he said, "Okay, that's settled."

"Did the killer leave anything behind in the parlor?" asked Antony.

"No," said Schell, "but I took a framed photo that was sitting in the middle of Parks's desk. His body was slumped on top of it. It may or may not be important."

"He was looking at that picture earlier," said Isabel. "I brought him tea in the late afternoon, y el sujataba esa foto, mientras charlaba por teléfono. Later, when I went to tell him dinner was ready, he was still on the phone, still looking at the picture."

"Here," said Morgan and held up the picture I hadn't been aware she'd been carrying. In the thick shadows of the backseat, I could barely make out the scene. It looked like a group of people standing in a black rain. Then a car passed us, and the fleeting illumination from its headlamps revealed the precipitation in the photo to actually be blood splattered on the glass of the frame.

"Who are they?" I asked Schell.

"Well," he said, "Parks is one of them. Who the rest are, I don't know. It could very well have nothing to do with the killing. What we can be relatively certain of is that the person who offed Parks is the same person responsible for the deaths of Charlotte Barnes and the other children."

"The same person who left me the notes," said Morgan.

"Yeah," said Schell. "There's something going on here, and it's got nothing to do with ghosts." Schell's statement put a cap on the conversation, everyone no doubt mulling some piece of the puzzle or, as in my case, wondering what in God's name it was that Antony had done battle with. Ghosts may not have been a part of it, but this creature seemed far worse than any airy spirit. I was reminded of The Worm's definition of the dybbuk.

After a while, there came a sound from somewhere in the car. At first I thought it was Antony, moaning slightly from his wounds. Eventually, though, it became clear that someone was humming. The moment I realized it was Morgan Shaw, who was sitting to my right, she broke into song—a subdued, sleepy version of "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams."

I noticed Schell turn his attention from the road and give a quick glance into the backseat. His face was lined with consternation and his brow was furrowed. Antony turned profile then too, and I saw Schell flash a quick glimpse at him and give a brief elevation of the eyebrows, as if to say, What the hell is this?

Antony gave a slight shrug, and his face broke into a smile. I'm not sure whether Morgan saw their reactions, but either way she continued unfazed, carrying on to the end with genuine feeling. Isabel, who had rested her head on my left shoulder, put her lips to my ear and whipered, "La señora blanca está loca." Her hand was in mine, and I gave it a squeeze to indicate my agreement. When the last line of the song had come and gone, there was an awkward silence, which was eventually broken by Schell.

"Nicely done, Miss Shaw," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Schell," she said and then leaned back and closed her eyes. When we got within a half mile of the house, Schell turned off the headlamps and slowed down to see if we were being followed. We hadn't seen another car for quite a while. He pulled into the drive and around the back, hiding the car from the road.

CHANGE

O
nce we were in the house, Schell drew me aside and said, "You let Isabel have your room, and I'll give mine to Morgan. I'll sleep in the living room, and you can take the couch in the Bugatorium. When the girl gets situated, come and see me."

I nodded and took Isabel down the hall to my room.

"Are you tired?" I asked her. From the look on her face I could tell she was exhausted.