The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller (23 page)

Virginia had the best knowledge of the large
stone mansion, the best insight on the thing they could come face
to face with once inside, and it was this knowledge that frightened
her. Surely, she would be the one they would look to for guidance.
The last thing she wanted was to let Isaac down, to not be there
for him if he needed her. Even as her hope faded, nothing, not
Lucius, nor her fear of this wretched place would tear her from his
side.

Earlier, Isaac was sure he would find his
daughter and would somehow be able to save her. But while the night
waned on and his thoughts meticulously formed painful knots inside
his head, he began doubting his faith. His confidence was at an all
time low. He could no longer feel Amy near him, or hear her voice
inside his head. He gently brushed his hand across the 9mm in the
inner pocket of his long tan coat, hoping tonight he would not have
to use it on himself.

And then there was Simmons, the fish out of
water. The man thrown into situation he could not grasp. The man
given a part he could not play. The man everyone looked down upon
and everyone doubted. Daniel Simmons, the man who doubted himself.
Something monumental would happen for him at this place, he could
feel it. A voice inside urged him to turn back. It told him he
wasn’t strong enough—told him he was worthless. But for once,
Simmons ignored the voice, and was finally prepared to prove it
wrong.

The group came to the entrance of the
mansion. At the end of the path, they walked up three stone steps,
stood between the tall, circular pillars, and stared at the double
doors in front of them. Here they were just a few small steps away
from being enclosed within the cold, stone walls, cut off from the
world they knew. This could be the point of no return, the point
where their lives changed forever. They took a moment to view the
world around them, to breathe the air, since each of them knew this
could be their last chance.

Isaac cautiously stepped toward the large
double doors, waiting, as though he expected them to open on their
own, and focused his eyes on the double brass handles. He leaned
toward the right handle and felt the bitter, aged brass between his
fingers. He let his hand rest upon the brass until the icy chill
swept over, and then gripped the handle tighter. But as he built
the courage to turn the cold brass, the door cracked open.

Isaac let go of the handle and watched the
door rock back and forth on squeaky hinges. He tilted his head and
looked through the inch wide crack in the door but couldn’t see
anything inside, only dense, black space. Virginia and Simmons
crept closer and stood behind Isaac. He turned toward them, raising
his eyebrows, then laid his hand flat against the door and pushed
it in.

The heavy wooden door swung open, aching as
it stretched its joints, and stopped just before hitting the inner
wall. Isaac took a small step forward and stood in the doorway,
peering down the dark corridor. A faint light flickered from around
the left corner. The glow of the light was not constant but
increased and decreased at random, casting odd shapes and patterns
on to the right wall of the corridor.

The group passed through the doorway and
headed down the dark corridor to the lighted room at the end. No
one closed the door; it felt safer to keep it open. Isaac
immediately noticed how much colder it was inside the mansion than
outside in the wind and rain. The air was frigid and damp, and
smelled of old things, old times; a smell that only takes form
after ages of isolation and in places of great, forgotten memory.
This dark place had a story to tell, and it would tell the story to
anyone willing to listen. It didn’t matter if the story was
enjoyed, only that it was given the attention it deserved.

The lighted room at the end of the hall was
just big enough to hold a small wooden table in the center with two
chairs nestled beneath. An antique lantern burned in the middle of
the table, a small key next to it. Warm, thoughtful gifts from the
illusionist. The soft flame from the lamp emitted the only light in
the room, and although it wasn’t much, the flame was better than no
light at all.

A thin, empty bookshelf hung at eyelevel on
the inner wall with layers of old dust resting atop. A small
fireplace in the far left corner of the room acted as a median
between two doors. One door continued straight ahead from the
entranceway. The other door exited from the left, on the other side
of the lamp and table.

Virginia pocketed the key first, and then
picked up the lantern and held it up in front of her. The lamp was
about half full. She figured they probably had a few hours left
before the flame would die, and hopefully in two hours time, they
would be far away from this place.

“Who wants to hold it?” she asked. Isaac and
Simmons looked over at each other without saying a word, and then
turned back toward Virginia. “Okay, I guess I will.”

Isaac walked over to the fireplace and knelt
down in front of it. A slight amount of ash was still present at
the bottom of the cavity, scraps from a fire that had probably
burned over a century ago. As he leaned closer, he noticed an
object lying toward the rear of the fireplace. “Can you shine the
light over here?” Virginia walked from behind the wooden table
holding the lantern with both hands and stood behind Isaac. “Shine
it down there,” he said, pointing to the dark hole in the wall.

Virginia leaned over, held the light just
over the fireplace, while Isaac reached toward the object in the
back. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s our old friend,” Isaac said, pulling
the small stone statue from the fireplace. He brushed the dust off
with his hand then held it over his shoulder for the others to
see.

Virginia set the lantern back down on the
table and reached out her hand. “Can I see it?”

The cloaked figure sat in her palm looking
up at her with its hands outstretched. This was the first time
Virginia had seen the statue in any other form than a picture, and
now as she held it in her hand, the thing they were up against
seemed that much more unreal.

“Should we take it with us?” asked
Isaac.

“Maybe we could somehow get him back inside
of it,” said Simmons. “The spirit, I mean.”

Virginia shook her head and handed the
statue back to Isaac. “Not likely,” she said. “Lucius was never
inside of it. He’s a part of another world. The statue was probably
a gateway, but I doubt there is anything we could do to force him
back through.”

“So, what
can
we do?” asked Isaac,
tossing the statue back into the fireplace.

“Continue doing what we’ve been doing. We
need to find your daughter. Lucius obviously wants us to find her,
or he wouldn't be leaving things behind to help us.”

“So we find her. And then what?”

There was no easy answer to the question,
nothing she could say to ease the overwhelming pain Isaac felt
inside. In the end, there was only the truth.

“And then hope for a miracle.”

5

Amy maneuvered through the dark passageway,
unaware of where she was heading, or who was taking her there.
Something had happened back at the house, and now for some reason,
she was no longer in control of her body. Something else was here,
inside of her. It carried her to this place, and it told her where
to move, what to touch, and what to see. Her thoughts were all she
had left, and even they didn’t feel safe anymore.

“Who are you?” Amy asked the visitor.

She couldn’t feel her lips move, perhaps
they hadn’t. Something hung above her in all directions, swinging
back and forth, clanging together. She could feel the cold sting of
it brush against her neck, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“What’s happened to me?” she cried, unable
to hear herself.

“Patience,” the thing whispered. “You will
know all the answers in time.”

Her body came to the end of the dark
passageway. The clanging sound was behind her now, and the cold
sting had vanished. Ahead, she could see many strange figures
swaying about in the darkness, hissing at her. She felt her lips
form a smile, and the figures suddenly stopped moving, stopped
glaring at her, and quickly hid in the shadows.

“Am I dead?”

The thing didn’t answer, not at first.

The smile disappeared from her face.

“Fear not, my child, for your father is
coming and soon it will all be over. I promise,” it said, ushering
her into the ghostly chamber. “Soon it will all be over.”

Amy believed it.

6

They decided on door number one at the end
of the corridor. Virginia held the lantern chest high and close to
her body. The small flame had a way of brightening a room,
reflecting off the walls and shining light in otherwise dark
places. But once they passed through the first door, the flame was
no longer able to spread its radiance as far. An ocean of darkness
surrounded the group from every direction, swallowing the light
with ease, as Virginia led them into the heart of the mansion.

They moved slowly through the large room,
scanning the shadows for anything that moved.

From just a few steps in, it was clear that
not only was this room much darker than the last, but much quieter,
too. They could no longer hear the splatter of raindrops hitting
the ground, or the crackle of lightning splitting open the dark sky
above. Even the rolling thunder was diminished to just a minor
vibration as the thick stone walls sucked up the shockwaves and
blasted them back out with little effort.

The group came to a square bar at the center
of the room. Isaac brushed his hand across the bare countertop and
pulled the clumps of dust off with his fingers. What was once
probably a fine bar was now just a wasteland of dust on old,
rotting wood. Giant white webs filled the shelves below from corner
to corner while black web spinners hovered motionless in the center
of the nest, poised and waiting to trap their next victim.

Virginia set the lantern down on the counter
and looked around the room from inside the bar. Her eyes began to
adjust to the darkness and everything steadily came into view.
Behind her was the door from which they had entered the room. She
had the urge to run down the dark corridor, through the open door,
and fall out into the field, into the rain. But, oddly, her feet
felt anchored to the floor. There was more to do here, more to see
and find in this place, yet she didn’t want to forget the way out,
if and when the opportunity came to leave.

To the right of the exit, not far down the
wall was another door, with a tall, empty cabinet filling the small
space between the two doors. The wall rounded off further down and
swung into an open doorway parallel to the bar with what looked to
be a kitchen poking its head out from around the corner. A long,
narrow window at the back of the kitchen looked outward; its glass
black and scratched, impossible to see through from such a long
distance. She looked to her right and saw a fireplace in the far
corner of the room in roughly the same position as the one in the
small entranceway. This fireplace was much bigger, with a brick
stoop at the base and a long wooden shelf a few feet above. The
fireplace seemed so empty and alone in the dark corner of the large
room. No portrait or painting hung above, no rug thrown below.
Items likely packed up and shipped out after the mansion was
investigated over a century ago—after the unexpected death of its
owner.

In a similar manner, this group of three
began their own investigation at this late hour, but so far finding
little left to uncover.

No spirit. No daughter.

Nothing.

Isaac stepped out of the bar and began
calling his daughter’s name, soft at first, then louder each time
after. He stopped momentarily and listened, but heard nothing in
return, only his voice echo through the halls and fade to nothing.
He continued calling a few more times, gave up, and banged his fist
down on the counter.

As the force of the blow shook the rotted
wood, a rat jumped out from below the bar and scurried between
Virginia’s legs. She yelped, gripped Isaac by his coat, and watched
the rat run across the open floor. The rat’s tiny feet slapped
against the cold stone, until it found a safe spot behind a long
slanted staircase nearby.

“Sorry,” said Isaac, glancing down at
Virginia clutching his arm. After she released her grip, he grabbed
the lantern from the counter and walked over to a pair of doors at
the right of the staircase. The others followed behind, making sure
to stay within the circle of light shimmering off the floor.

Isaac peered down at another set of brass
door handles, identical to the ones from the front door. Something
about large double doors yearned of importance, an awareness that
whatever rested on the other side was special to someone, and they
wanted everyone to know it.

He handed the lantern to Virginia and
reached for the handles with both hands. He curled his fingers
around the cold brass, forming a fist of each hand, and then turned
both handles. A third of the way down the handles stopped instantly
and jerked back up to their original position.

The double doors were locked.

But now Isaac could feel something else,
someone standing motionless on the other side of the doors. It
watched him, smiled as he yanked at the handles. It could see the
fear in his eyes, feel the pain in his heart, and it was ready and
willing to release him from the pain, give him a
gift
,
but only for a price.

How much will you take?

How far will you go?

Then, like a sweeping storm, the feeling
passed.

Isaac let go of the handles, backed away
from the doors, and looked around the large room. He focused on the
slanted staircase, and no matter how much he turned away, his gaze
kept coming back to it. He thought about the rat, how it had leapt
out of the bar and startled Virginia, nearly giving her a heart
attack. He wondered if the rat was still under the stairs, perhaps
having a heart attack of its own.