Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) (9 page)

“That’ll be the last of it, Miss. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” A hint of the man’s halitosis hit her, and Bam fought against a grimace. He shoved a gloved hand towards her and she grabbed it, feeling the soft leather creak between her fingers.

“You made a good deal here.”

“So did you, Miss. There are a lot of pieces that will need restoration, and we came all the way out here to pick everything up.” When he spoke he inhaled sharply, which made his words sound like a chuckle.

Bam nodded in response, feeling out of breath just listening to him. She had hoped to get a little more money, but in the end she’d caved because MacDougal had offered to take everything off her hands in one go. If she could have spent more time, she knew she could have secured a better price, but everyone had agreed they just wanted the furniture cleared out before the kids arrived.

“There you go, as promised.” He handed her a crisp envelope, and Bam took it between her thumb and forefinger. She didn’t want to touch the man again. His bulging eyes were lined with puffy skin, and he blinked at her in a way that reminded her of a frog.

“Good luck with your, uh, hotel.” MacDougal looked around. “Beautiful spot, Lucifer Falls. Not the best loved though. But you know how tourists are. They don’t mind the occasional ghost story.”

“Ghost story?”

The halitosis and annoying breathing were instantly forgotten. Bam suddenly found herself very interested in what the man had to say.

“Don’t you know the stories?”

She shook her head. “I only know the one about Lucifer Falls being the place where the devil supposedly fell from the sky and fell straight through the earth and into Hell, if you mean that one?”

“No, though that is a part of it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You see, Lucifer wasn’t the only angel that fell from Heaven. He took several with him. Some believe that not all demons made it into Hell, but that some remained in the land. Almost two hundred years ago, a convent stood on the very spot where this house stands. The nuns of the convent were the guardians of unadoptable orphans. The whole thing went up in flames. There were only two survivors, one of them a nun and the other a little girl. It’s said the girl later built this house.”

“I didn’t know that.” Bam bit her lip.

“I’m sure there’ll be archives about it somewhere. It’s become a bit of a local legend. Every island has its dark side; this happens to be Skye’s.” The man grabbed his hat from the table and placed it on his glistening scalp, little wisps of white hair escaping from under it. “They say the nuns still haunt this place. Called themselves ‘Angels’, they did.” He gave her a knowing look and adjusted his headwear.

“Spooky.” She wrapped her hands across her shoulder and shivered. The man gave her a smug nod.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Thank you again.” He put on his brown raincoat. Bam held the door open for him and watched him walk towards his van, where the two movers stood having a cigarette. She stayed in the doorway until the van drove out of sight, her skin an exposition of tiny goose bumps.

“What are you staring at?”

Bam yelped and turned around to face Oliver. His brown curls hung flat around his head like withering flowers, and sweat stained his old work-shirt.

“Nothing.” She felt a pang of guilt because she had been thinking of ghosts again and Oliver hated talking about ghosts. “I got the cheque.” She held it up with false cheerfulness.

“Good job, Bam. I’m proud of you, girl.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, his lips burning hot on her skin, and Bam felt a tingle in her crotch.

“Thanks, I wanted more, but—”

“You did fine. This will provide us with a nice little buffer. It’ll give me the opportunity to build a proper kitchen in this place.” He took the cheque from her hand and held it up. “This is absolutely brilliant.”

“Plus, now all the stuff is gone, we can redecorate the living room.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan. While the builders do the hotel, we can focus on our little part of the house.”

Bam plucked a piece of plaster from his shoulder. “I’m not very good with the technical stuff, but I’m one hell of a decorator.”

He chuckled, and the sight of his crooked smile made the butterflies in her stomach twirl. Oliver wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever met – his nose was a little too broad for that and his chin was weak – but there was something in the way he spoke and smiled that turned Bam to pudding.

“Let’s go have some lunch.” Oliver put his arm around her shoulders, but Bam pushed him away, her nose wrinkled.

“Get off. You stink!”

Oliver bent forward and wafted the scent from his armpits in her direction with his hand, and Bam screeched and ran away laughing. Oliver chased her into the kitchen, his fingers pulling at her shirt. Bam came to an abrupt stop when she saw the expression on Freya’s face. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a letter in her hand and her brow a knot above her nose.

“What’s up?” Bam slid onto the seat next to her and gave her a worried look.

“This came today from the inheritance lawyer. They missed it somehow, but my aunt wanted me to have it.”

“What does it say?” Oliver took a seat on the other side of Freya and looked over her shoulder at the letter. Bam felt her stomach tighten, and she fiddled nervously with the plastic floral tablecloth that she’d used to bring a bit of colour to the dreary wooden kitchen.

“It’s just insane.” Freya sounded exasperated, and she sat back in the wooden chair, never taking her eyes off the letter. “I knew the woman had issues… but for God’s sake…”

“I’m curious now.” Oliver raised his eyebrows and leaned further forward.

“Okay, I’ll read you bits. It’s very long so I’ll spare you all of it. Here it goes.

“‘Dear Freya,

“‘If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead, and I never had a chance to instruct you with regards to Angel Manor. I will try to leave the instructions as clearly as I can in the journal since you are on your own now.’”
Freya turned the letter around to see if there was any mention of a journal.

“I haven’t quite figured out what the journal is, or where it is. It didn’t come with the letter. I’ll have to ask if it got left behind.”

“Go on,” Oliver urged.

“‘Your mother was the natural heir to this house, but she passed over her rights many years ago, and I don’t think she’ll serve as a Guardian. You are humanity’s last hope, Freya. I know you come from a Godless family, but the good Lord has a plan for you, and it is very important that you follow through with that plan. Not just for you, but for all of us. Without the Guardians, the world will be doomed. I don’t know how much your mother has told you about Angel Manor, but it’s different from any other house you will have encountered. It has secrets, which I’ve explained more about in the journal. What you need to know is that this house is not just bricks and mortar. It’s as near alive as any building can be. It was built that way almost two hundred years ago. The house protects the secret, but at the same time that very secret taints the house. It can be cruel and needy, much like an old family member, but it will love you and those who you choose to love too. But be careful, because it can get jealous, and like a scorned lover, the house will lash out, and it may try to hurt you if you don’t treat it properly.’”

Bam’s teeth gnawed on the soft flesh of her bottom lip, and she looked from Freya to Oliver with big round eyes. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. This house is alive?” The walls seemed bigger and darker to her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Oliver hissed between his teeth and rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.

Freya looked up and pursed her lips. “She goes into quoting the Bible here a lot, so I’ll skip that part. But this is where it gets interesting, and really crazy.

“‘In order for you to live your life in relative safety, I have built a safe haven in the West Wing. There, you can live away from the spirits that dwell in the house. We walled up the other wings and used salt in the mortar. The spells in the house are strong, but they are fragile, and I fear for the shadows that you will bring from your previous life. This place gives them strength. Learn the spells to protect yourself. It’s important. Should you ever accidentally release any of the souls, I’ve placed seven golden seals in the main room of this wing. It will be your sanctuary.

“‘During the seasonal equinox, you need to leave the house. Make sure there’s not a single living creature in the house at that time, this is very important. The spirits will feed off their life-force and become stronger.

“‘You will bond with the house the way I have, and once it has you, it will never let you go. The house will destroy itself if it doesn’t have a human bond, and all the secrets will spill from its core. You are blessed as well as cursed.’”

Freya rolled her eyes.

“Yada yada, a whole bit about Jesus saving me, and how he will protect the spirits of the house, and that I must forgive them because they weren’t meant to be evil, but the magic made them that way or something. Here’s another good bit…”

She cleared her throat.

“‘
Never enter the basements under the house. They are old and dangerous, and what lurks there is an unspeakable evil. The house is built as a fortress atop the basement. The knowledge of what lies in the dark has been lost for several generations. It’s our duty to protect it.’”

Freya looked up from the letter and pulled her lips into a thin line. “And then there is a bit that says it’s my duty to make sure there are heirs to the house. And she pleads with me to take her message seriously.”

“Holy smokes, Batman.” Bam put her hand over her open mouth and looked from Freya to Oliver.

“More like Holy smokes, Batshit, if you ask me.” Oliver whistled between his teeth, and Bam laughed nervously.

“I know, right?” Freya put the letter down, but she still stared at the blue handwriting, and Bam followed her gaze. The writing was scratchy, with straight thin loops that pushed through the lines on either side, and most of it was illegible to Bam. Her eyes met Freya’s, and she saw her friend’s face change a little.

“You know this is crazy, right, Bam?” Freya looked worried. “No such things as ghosts or spirits. There’s nothing in this house. I think my auntie might have been schizophrenic or something.”

“Oh, right.” Bam’s voice was barely audible. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her heels on the edge of the wooden chair. “There are a lot of rumours around this place.”

“That’s no surprise.” Freya leaned over and kissed her on the head. “There are a lot of stories about this area, so add a house to the mix, inhabited by crazy people, and voila… instant myth. Look at it this way: We’ve been here ten days now and we haven’t seen a single weird thing, so the place really isn’t haunted.”

Bam rested her chin on her knees and bit her lip. Her eyes wandered around the kitchen, then settled on Oliver.

“Except that we all got mysterious nosebleeds when we first arrived.”

“Probably just the air up here. We’re quite high up you know.” Oliver waved her words away with a flick of his hand, but Bam wasn’t ready to give up so easily.

“After we all touched the stones? Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?” She saw a darkness in his eyes then, one she’d never seen before, and part of her wanted to give up, but her innate tenacity wouldn’t let it go. “What about that brown stuff we saw? Or how the house suddenly looked a lot better the next day?”

“Come on, we talked about this.” Oliver slammed his palms on the table and got to his feet. “Why do you keep bringing up this bullshit? Bam, there are no ghosts. And until you bring me evidence that they exist, I don’t ever want to talk about this again.” His eyes shifted with an agitated passion that surprised Bam.

“Maybe we should just get those golden plates back… you know, just in case?” Her eyes watered, but she fought the tears. Freya shifted on her seat, clearly uncomfortable. She was the peacemaker, Bam knew, but Bam also knew that Freya was on Oliver’s side in this. Her friend was uncomfortable with the house, but for different reasons than Bam was.

“We can’t. We need the money. I’m not missing out on all that cash just because you’re superstitious, or because of some crazy letter from an even crazier woman.”

She sighed and suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Her legs slid off the chair and she leaned forward.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. For the record, I do believe in ghosts, but you’re right, this house doesn’t have any or we would have noticed by now.” A silence fell over the kitchen, and Oliver looked at Bam with suspicion. She returned his glare with a wet smile. “Promise, I’m not going to bring it up again. Let’s just eat lunch, okay?”

Freya slid her arms around Bam’s shoulders again and squeezed tightly. “Good idea. We should eat.”

They ate their sandwiches in silence, and all Bam could think of was visiting the Portree Community Library later in the week to do some research on the house, and on spirits.

Chapter 6