The Haunted Air (32 page)
Authors: F. Paul Wilson
“Maybe it's not. But then again, maybe all the violent deaths in Menelaus Manor somehow created a focus of Otherness. Maybe that focus was concentrated in the fault line beneath the house. When I crossed the threshold I hit a trip wire and ⦠boom.”
Lyle shook his head. “I still think that little girl's connected to Gia.” He turned to her. “Did she look at all familiar to you?”
Gia shook her head. “Not a bit. If she is a ghost ⦔ She shook her head. “I've never believed in ghosts either, but what else can you call her? If she is one, I think she may have died in the sixties. She looked dressed to ride a horse, so her clothes don't date her, but she kept singing a songâ”
“âI Think We're Alone Now'?” Lyle said.
“Yes! You heard it too?”
“Yesterday. But I didn't see her.”
“Well, it's a sixties songâlate sixties, I think.”
“Nineteen sixty-seven, to be exact,” Jack said. “Tommy James and the Shondells on the Roulette label.”
Lyle and Charlie stared at him in surprise. Gia wore a wry smile; she was used to this.
Jack shrugged and tapped the side of his head. “Chock full of useless information.”
“Not so useless this time,” Gia said. “It gives us an idea of when she might have been killed.”
“Killed?” Charlie said. “You think someone killed her?”
Gia's face twisted. “You didn't see her. Her chest had been cut open.” She swallowed. “Her heart was gone.”
“That could be symbolic,” Jack said, giving her hand a squeeze.
He wished to hell Gia had never come within miles of Menelaus Manor. This was all Junie Moon's fault. And his for agreeing to drive Junie to her medium. If they'd stayed at that damn party â¦
“After all the blood we just saw?” Lyle said. “If that's symbolism, it's way overboard.”
“Tell them about Sunday night,” Charlie said.
Lyle looked uncomfortable as he told them about the shape in the shower, the blood-red water flowing into the drain.
A real
Psycho
moment, Jack thought.
Psycho
moment, Jack thought.
He described the writing on the mirror before something shattered it. Then â¦
“I'd seen blood on Charlie's chest on Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe
seen
isn't the right word. Had visions? Hallucinated? But Sunday night was different. I was the one with blood down my front then, and when I pulled up my shirt it looked like my chest had been cut open. I ⦔ Lyle looked at his brother. “We both could see my heart beating through the hole.”
seen
isn't the right word. Had visions? Hallucinated? But Sunday night was different. I was the one with blood down my front then, and when I pulled up my shirt it looked like my chest had been cut open. I ⦔ Lyle looked at his brother. “We both could see my heart beating through the hole.”
“Dear God,” Gia whispered.
“It lasted only a second, but if whatever's there thought that would scare us off, it was wrong. Sleep's been pretty hard to come by since then, but we're staying. Right, bro?”
Charlie nodded, but Jack didn't pick up a truckload of enthusiasm there.
“You think that's what it's trying to do?” Jack said. “Scare you off?”
“What else? It's sure not trying to make friends. And it doesn't seem to want to hurt usâ”
Jack had to laugh. “You damn near drowned less than an hour ago!”
“But I didn't. Maybe I wasn't supposed to. Let's face it, if it wanted to kill me, it had its chance Sunday night. It could've smashed my head instead of my bathroom mirror.”
“That's a point,” Jack said. “But maybe you're not the one it's interested in. And the question remains: Why now? You've been in that house for almost a year, you said. Why should this thing wait for my arrival on Friday night to start manifesting herself?”
“Not just your arrival,” Lyle said. “Gia's too.”
Jack looked at him. “You're just not gonna drop that bone, are you?”
Lyle shrugged. “I can't help it. I still think it's connected to Gia.”
“Can we stop with the âit' business?” Gia said. “âIt' is a âshe.' A little girl.”
“But do we know that for sure?” Lyle said. “Maybe it can take on any form it wants. Maybe it's chosen to look like a little girl because it knows that's what'll get to you.”
Gia blinked. Jack could tell she hadn't considered that possibility. Neither had he. Uneasiness crawled through his gut. Maybe Gia was involved after all.
After a heartbeat's pause, Gia shook her head. “I don't buy that. I think she's limited in what she can do and she's trying to tell us something.”
“What?”
“That back in 1967 or thereabouts a little girl was murdered
in your house and she's buried in the basement.”
in your house and she's buried in the basement.”
Silence at the table, everyone staring at Gia.
She stared back. “What? Look at what we've got.” She ticked off her points on her fingers. “A little girl with a hole in her chest, singing a song from 1967, leaving a trail of blood to a basement
full
of blood, that drains away through a hole in the floor. Open your eyes, guys. It's all right there, staring you in the face.”
full
of blood, that drains away through a hole in the floor. Open your eyes, guys. It's all right there, staring you in the face.”
Lyle gave a slow nod. He glanced at Charlie. “I think we need to learn more about our house.”
“How we do that?” Charlie said.
“How about that old Greek who sold us the place? I didn't pay much attention at the time, but didn't he go on about how every time the house has changed hands, he's been involved? What was his name? I remember it was a real mouthful.”
Charlie grinned. “Konstantin Kristadoulou. Can't forget no mouthful like that.”
“Right! First thing tomorrow I'm going to call Mr. Kristadoulou and set up a meeting. Maybe he can shed some light on our ghost.”
“Include me in that meeting,” Jack told him. “I've got a stake in this too.”
More than you can imagine.
“Will do,” Lyle said.
Gia leaned forward. “But what about tonight? Where are you sleeping?”
“In my bed.”
She shook her head. “Aren't you ⦠?”
“Scared?” He smiled and shrugged. “A little. But I figure it must beâ”
“She.”
“All right,
she
must be trying to tell us something. Maybe she wants us to do something, then she'll go away. How can I find out what that is if I'm not there?”
she
must be trying to tell us something. Maybe she wants us to do something, then she'll go away. How can I find out what that is if I'm not there?”
Sounded logical enough to Jack, but he thought he spotted something in Lyle's eyes as he spoke. Working on another agenda, perhaps? Jack wondered what it could be.
He'd worry about that later. Right now his first imperative was to escort Gia back to Manhattan and convince her to stay there. Bad enough to feel that the Otherness had painted a bull's-eye on his back; the possibility that Gia might be targeted too dragged a coil of concertina wire through his gut.
First his sister, then Gia and their unborn child ⦠was that the plan? Crush his spiritâdestroy everyone he loved or mattered to himâbefore crushing him?
Listen to me. Sound like a raving paranoiac.
Hey, everybody! I'm so important, there's a cosmic power out to get me and everybody close to me!
But ⦠if he had indeed been drafted into the supposed shadow war, it might be true.
Jack felt the breath leak out of him. He had to find a way to get himself discharged, even if it was dishonorable.
But first-first-
first
: place Gia out of harm's way.
first
: place Gia out of harm's way.
“Like I told you before,” Fred Strauss said, his voice halfway to a whisper. “He's a ghost, a fucking ghost.”
Eli Bellitto lay in his hospital bed and stared at the flickering polychromatic beacon of the TV screen in his darkened hospital room.
“Who's a ghost?” Adrian said.
Strauss sat at the right foot of the bed, Adrian at the left. The big man had propelled himself into the room in his wheelchair. His left knee was braced and straight out before him. Even in the dim light Eli could see the pair of ugly purple swellings on his bare scalp. His long arms hung at his sides, almost touching the floor.
“The guy who clobbered you and stabbed Eli,” Strauss
said, his words clipped with impatience. “Haven't you been listening?”
said, his words clipped with impatience. “Haven't you been listening?”
Adrian's short-term memory hadn't quite recovered yet and he'd been having difficulty following Strauss's excuses for coming up empty in his search for their attacker. Even Eli found his repeated questions annoying:
Adrian shook his head. “I have
no
memory of it. I remember having dinner last night, and after that ⦠it's all a blank. If it weren't for my knee and this pounding headache, I'd think you both were having me on.”
no
memory of it. I remember having dinner last night, and after that ⦠it's all a blank. If it weren't for my knee and this pounding headache, I'd think you both were having me on.”
Adrian had regained some of his recent memoryâat least now he accepted that this was August instead of Julyâbut he'd made this same statement at least half a dozen times since his arrival. Eli wanted to throw something at him.
I'm the one who's suffered the real damage! he wanted to shout. You just got a knock on the head!
He clenched his teeth as a new gush of magma erupted in his groin. His left hand flailed about, found the PCA button, and pressed it; he prayed he hadn't already used up this hour's morphine allotment.
What a day. An afternoon from hell. A nurse, a three-hundred-pound rhino in white named Horgan had come in and insisted he get up and walk. Eli had refused but the woman would not take no for an answer. She may have been black but she was a Nazi at heart, leading him up and down the hall as he clung to his rolling IV pole, his catheter snaking between his knees, his half-full blood-tinged urine bag dangling from a hook on the pole for all to see. Agony enhanced by humiliation.
And then Dr. Sadiq had visited, telling him that he had to walk
more
, and how tomorrow they'd be removing his catheterâEli's buttocks clenched at the thought of Nurse Horgan dragging the tube out of him, and that caused another eruption of pain. Dr. Sadiq said he anticipated discharging Eli tomorrow morning.
more
, and how tomorrow they'd be removing his catheterâEli's buttocks clenched at the thought of Nurse Horgan dragging the tube out of him, and that caused another eruption of pain. Dr. Sadiq said he anticipated discharging Eli tomorrow morning.
Not soon enough as far as Eli was concerned. As long as he could take this PCA unit with him.
“In other words,” Eli said to Strauss as the morphine took effect, “once we trim away all your excess verbiage, we are left with the simple fact that you've failed us.”
The detective spread his hands. “Hey, I can only do so much. It's not like you two've given me a whole lot to work with.”
It frightened Eli to know that his attacker was still unidentified.
He knows me, but I don't know him.
He could be in the hospital now, pretending to be visiting someone else, but all the while waiting for Strauss and Adrian to leave so that he can come in and finish the job.
If only they had his name. The Circle could take it from there. With their connections they'd make short work of him.
“Did you bring me his number?” Eli asked Strauss.
“Yeah.” He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Got it here.”
“Dial it for me.”
“You're kidding. It can't be traced and he doesn'tâ”
“Dial it now!”
Shrugging, Strauss punched the number into the bedside phone and handed Eli the receiver. After four rings, Eli heard a disembodied voice say the client he'd called was not available. He handed the phone back to Strauss.
“Leave the number on the nightstand.”
“Waste of time, I tell you. Guy doesn't keep his phone on.”
“I'll keep trying. Who knows? I may get lucky.”
Eli wasn't sure exactly what he'd say, but the phone number was his only link to the man who'd violated him.
“Hey,” Strauss said, pointing to the TV screen. “Isn't thatâ?”
Eli shushed him and turned up the volume when he recognized the Vietnamese child's face. He missed the introduction as the scene cut to a dark-skinned woman reporter on a crowded sidewalk, a scene obviously shot earlier in the day.
Her name was Philippa Villa and she was doing man-on-the-street interviews about how, in the wake of little Duc Ngo's recent abduction, people thought child molesters should be treated.
Child molesters! Why did everyone assume that the child was going to be sexually molested?
As each bloated visage from Manhattan's multihued lumpen proletariat flashed onto the screen to mouth predictably banal comments about capital punishment being “too good for them,” Eli's anger grew. These ignoramuses knew nothing of the Circle's exalted purpose, and were casting them as perverted lowlifes. They were being egged on by this reporter, this Philippa Villa. The Circle had a powerful link within the media. Eli would see to it that this woman's career came to a screeching halt.
He was about to change the channel when the reporter's grinning face filled the screen.
“And if you think the folks we've just seen are tough, you should have heard one woman who did not want to appear on camera. I wrote down what she said: âThe guy who snatched that little boy should be castratedâ'”
Eli stifled a moan as he relived the moment when the blade of his own knife sliced into his tenderest flesh.
“â
And after that he should have his hands cut off so he can never touch another child, and then his legs cut off so he can never stalk another child
â'”
And after that he should have his hands cut off so he can never touch another child, and then his legs cut off so he can never stalk another child
â'”
He saw Strauss lean back, as if trying to distance himself physically as well emotionally from the TV.
“ââ
and then his tongue ripped out so he can never coax another kid into his car, and his eyes put out so that he can never even look at a child again
â'”
and then his tongue ripped out so he can never coax another kid into his car, and his eyes put out so that he can never even look at a child again
â'”
He saw Adrian wince and run a trembling hand over his face.
“ââ
I'd leave his nose so he can breathe in the stink of his rotten body.
'”
I'd leave his nose so he can breathe in the stink of his rotten body.
'”
Eli felt the PCA button crack under his thumb. He hadn't realized he'd been pressing it so hard.
Forget the reporter. Eli now had somebody else he would much rather ruin. If he could find her.
“Did you hear that?” he said to Adrian and Strauss. “Did you hear what that woman said about us?”
“Not
us,
” Strauss said. “She knows nothing about The Circle. And besidesâ”
us,
” Strauss said. “She knows nothing about The Circle. And besidesâ”
“But she thinks she does. She thinks she knows our intent. She knows nothing of our purposes and yet feels free to mouth off in public and accuse us of being child molesters. Are we going to stand for this?”
“I don't see that we have much choice,” Strauss said.
“There are always choices.”
“Really? And what are they here?”
Strauss's unruffled attitude irked Eli. “Find this loudmouthed woman and teach her a lesson.”
“I think you're overreacting, Eli,” Strauss said.
“Easy for you to say!” Eli hissed. He wanted to shout but was wary of raising his voice. “You're not the one with the stab wound or the concussion!”
“Finding this woman won't make you feel any better.”
“Oh, it will! I guarantee you, it will!”
Eli was well aware that he was overreacting, but he'd been hurt and he was in pain, and Strauss had given him no target for retribution, offered scant hope of providing one in the foreseeable future. Finding and ruining this woman would provide a much-needed outlet for his pent-up fury.
“How am I supposed to find her? She hasn't committed a crime.”
“Contact Gregson.”
“Gregson's with NBC. This was onâ”
“Gregson will know what to do.” Eli felt his anger bubbling over. Did he have to lead Strauss by the hand? Did he have to do
everything?
“If you can't find our attacker's name, then get me this woman's name! Do
something,
damn it!”
everything?
“If you can't find our attacker's name, then get me this woman's name! Do
something,
damn it!”
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