Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) (18 page)

The rain refused to let up, so Logan had decided to let the guys sleep in. There had only been six mattresses clean enough to sleep on so the young men shared three between the four of them, while each of the mentors had their own bed. Being in the house seemed to keep the four boys docile all night, and Logan felt grateful for small miracles.

Movement on the communal mattresses indicated the guys were waking up, and Logan took this as a sign to get out of bed himself. He’d slept like a baby, oddly enough, better than he had in the tent. The house spooked him a little, and yet at the same time it felt comforting. Logan couldn’t figure out why, but he felt a connection to the old place.

“Morning.” John stretched his pudgy arms and scratched his naked chest, his face rumpled from sleep. “Och, this wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not at all.”

“It’s still raining.” Jim, already standing by his spot at the window again, said with a heavy voice. “Still as bad as last night. The wind seems to have died down a bit, though.”

“Well, as soon as it stops, we’ll collect the rest of our stuff.” Logan got to his feet and pulled his mattress to the side of the hall, where he stacked it against a wall. “Might be better if we sleep in here from now on. Should make it harder for boys to run away too.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, seeing the grimace cross Jim’s face.

Terrence was the first of the guys to get up. He folded his blanket in a neat square and put it on Jim’s bed. His dark eyes met Logan’s, and he could see he wanted to say something.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t get why Roger and Lyndon aren’t back yet.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“Nah, man. But knowing Roger, they probably had some wacky baccy, and they went to light one up. I didn’t hear of no plans otherwise. Roger would have told me.”

“Should we be worried?”

The young man shrugged, the corners of his full mouth curling down. “I don’t know, man. I really don’t. This could just be one of Roger’s little games. It’s just different from the shit he usually pulls, you know?”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the fucker is just hiding in the house somewhere, you know what I’m saying?” He wiggled his thick eyebrows at Logan, who raised his own in return.

“I never even thought of that.”

“Wouldn’t put it past him.” Terrence shrugged.

“We’ll go check the house today. Look at the places we haven’t searched for them yet.” Jim rubbed his neck, obviously agitated.

Terrence swung his wiry arm to loosen the muscles, and he looked around. “So what are we doing today, Boss? Are we searching for our missing brothers or are we clearing up more shit? I personally can’t wait until we get to do some of the bigger projects.”

“Jim and I will search the house for our two runaways. I don’t want you boys roaming through the house, so you focus on clearing up. Mr Jardin should have the plans his architect drew up for us by next week. That’s when this party is really going to get started.” He winked at Terrence, who replied with an impish grin.

“This is a pretty cool job. I hope Roger and Lyndon show up though. We’ll need all the help we can get on a job this size.”

Logan’s eyes inspected the high ceilings of the entrance hall, his hand fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt. “That it is, Terrence. That it is.” He turned to the boy. “Don’t you worry. If they don’t come back I’ll call the centre, see if we can drum up some more volunteers. I’m going into town today to see if anyone has heard anything from our two escapees.”

“I hope you’ll find them. And maybe you could give calling Tyrell another shot?” He seemed genuinely concerned, and it touched Logan’s heart. Terrence had come a long way from the loudmouth he’d met over a year ago, and he felt a surge of pride.

“I’ll think about it.” Logan winked and ruffled the boy’s scalp.

***

Dark clouds hung heavily above the Isle of Skye, but as Freya’s car approached, she felt as if she were chasing them away. Ahead of her, rain fell in torrents, but her vehicle never made it to the rainclouds. Her head swam, and beads of sweat dripped down her brow, their salty liquid landing in her eyes, stinging them. Twice, she felt the grass under her tires as she slipped a little off the road, causing her heart to pound.

“Stay on the fucking road, Freya; you’re high up, so don’t drive off a fucking cliff,” she hissed at herself through clenched teeth. It took all her might to keep the steering wheel steady. Freya felt as if she were driving through a dreamscape, her surroundings almost surreal in her feverish vision. She leaned forward, the heat of her face so intense she could feel it on the backs of her hands. The falling water mesmerised her, but she kept focusing on her destination, praying that she would make it without crashing the car.

As she drove up the steep hill towards Lucifer Falls, the sun peered through the grey mass, and when she entered the Angel Manor lot, the rain stopped abruptly. Freya gasped and halted the car. It wasn’t that the rain had ceased without warning, but her headache and nausea had disappeared as if by magic as well. She sat still, eyes wide, both wrists on the steering wheel, gaping at the clear blue skies, dumbfounded.

There was not even a trace of the fever she’d had only minutes earlier. In fact, she felt the epitome of health.
What the actual fuck is going on here? Am I just going insane?

Her muscles complained as she flung her legs outside the car, but other than that, she felt fantastic. With her recovered health came a pang of guilt for leaving Bam behind in Glasgow. She had to remind herself how terrible she had felt only moments ago, and that it had been a good decision to go. Perhaps she could convince her friend to come and join her. As soon as she’d had something to eat and a bit of a rest, Freya would drive down to Portree and give Bam a call to see if she was okay. And she’d ring the guy from the phone company too, because not being able to call from the comfort of her own home was a pain in the backside.

The door to Angel Manor opened and the guys spilled outside, each looking up at the sky in wonder. Logan was the last to leave the house, and Freya’s eyes caught his. The intensity of his gaze made her legs tingle and almost buckle. With a few steps, he reached her and offered her his hand, which she took gratefully.

“You’re back early. What time did you leave?”

“I set off a little before half four.” She blushed and bit her lip. “The B&B was just… too stifling.” No other explanation came to mind, and she was aware of how lame her reason for leaving was. Now that she was back at Angel Manor, she felt a hint of shame at how she’d acted.

“Did your friend get on her plane?”

“No, she still has to buy a ticket. I have no idea when her flight will be.” Her cheeks burned a little and she cast her eyes down at her feet. “I may not have won any friendship of the year awards today.”

“You drove her to Glasgow, not to the nearest train station. I think that deserves some kudos.” His fingers wrapped around her wrist, and sparks ignited in the depths of her soul.

“You do know how to make a girl feel better.”

“I try.”

She noticed that the young men all looked as if they’d just got out of bed, their hair ruffled, and they were dressed in t-shirts and shorts rather than the tatty jeans and long-sleeved shirts they normally wore while working on the house.

“Did you guys sleep in the house last night?”

“Yeah, there was a bad storm. It ripped our stuff to shreds.” He pointed at the campsite and the remains of four tents scattered across the soaking grass. Several of the airbeds had made a break for it. One of them was clinging to an overgrown topiary near the house.

“Oh my…” Freya’s hand rested on her lips.

“It was still raining until about two minutes ago. Then it stopped… just like that.” He snapped his fingers with a loud click.

“It stopped right before I arrived.”

“Maybe you brought the sun with you from Glasgow.”

“I didn’t know the sun lived there.” She tilted her head and curled one side of her mouth.

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” He chuckled softly, his hand never leaving hers, their eyes meeting for a moment.

“Freya?” Oliver’s voice broke the spell between them. She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she pulled her hand out of Logan’s grip.

“Hey, Ollie.”

“I didn’t think you’d be back until tonight. Or tomorrow even.” His hair was wet from what she suspected was a shower, and his face looked bright and fresh. “You missed one crazy storm last night.”

“I heard.” She nodded her head towards Logan. “It sounded intense. Maybe it’s a good idea to create a space for the guys to live in, seeing as their tents are pretty much ruined.” She pointed at the campsite, and Oliver’s eyes followed the direction of her finger.

“Oh my God, it’s worse than I thought.” He tangled his fingers in his wet brown curls. Freya could smell a hint of aftershave. “We can absolutely make space in the house. I know you didn’t want the boys to be in the same wing as us, but things seem to have been going very well, and with Bam gone…” Oliver glanced from Logan to Freya, “…there’s only Freya now.”

Freya rolled her eyes, but then she nodded. “I really don’t see the issue either. The guys have been very well behaved so far.”

In the distance, the four young men were picking their scattered belongings from the ground, all a little quiet and solemn. One of them, she thought his name was Mason, cupped his hands so that Terrence could have a leg up against one of the trees to rescue a dangling backpack. It was a sad sight.

“I guess we can try.”

“Good.”

Chapter 15

“Today I will get up,” Bam whispered, her voice no more than a raspy croak that garbled most of the pronunciation. She had spent the past forty-two hours in the cramped room with no food or drink, hallucinating from an intense fever. In her dreams, a dark figure sat on her chest, preventing her from moving, sucking the energy out of her.

For the first time in hours, she had a lucid moment, and she was shocked at the state of her body. Flaky dry tatters hung from her lips, and every breath hurt. Her skin hung like a loose sack around her bones.

“Can’t get away, Sis. You’re dying.”

“You can’t be here, Chuck… you can’t be.” Her tongue was thick and dry, and it stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Don’t worry, Bambi… I’m not here. This is only a projection. My soul is stuck in Angel Manor.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I can’t… not now. But you’re hurting yourself plenty.” Bam detected a hint of smug cruelty in her brother’s words. “You see, my dearest, I can’t leave Angel Manor… but neither can you. You are as stuck to that house as I am.”

“You’re wrong.” She turned on her side, all her organs groaning in protest.
If only this room wasn’t so hot.
“You’re stuck in that house, and I got away. I got away from you.” She cried but no tears came; she simply didn’t have any fluid left in her. Bam wanted to drink, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Something was holding her back, but she knew that if she didn’t break out of it, she would die.

“No, you didn’t get away. Only part of you left, Bambi. You bonded with the house, and it owns your soul now. It still has you, sis. That’s why you’re so sick.”

“How can it have my soul when I’m here?” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her tongue lolled from the corner of her mouth. If anyone had been present in the room, they wouldn’t have been able to understand her, but to Bam it felt as if she were having a lucid conversation. The muscles in her body cramped up with acidic pain flashes, her hands knotted into claws. Her once beautifully manicured nails were now broken and bitten down to the quick.

“You should have told Freya how you were really doing, sis. She could have saved you. She would have come to get you and brought you back. But you didn’t. And now the battery to your phone is dead, and you’re going to die in the next few hours.”

“I got away from that house.” The words were slow but determined.

“You didn’t get away from the house, sis. Something got away all right… but it wasn’t you.”

“Fuck you, Chuck. What do you mean, something got away?” Bambi coughed, her throat was so scratchy it felt as if she’d swallowed needles.

“When your body left the house, it took a part of the spell with you. It seems to have grown, Bambi dearest… and it wants you dead.” Chuck squatted next to the bed and cocked his head at her. She wanted to claw his eyes out.

“You’re full of shit. All I need to do is drink some water, and then I’ll be fine. The water is right over there.”

“It won’t matter. Can’t exist separated from your soul for too long. It knows it too.”

His taunting tone powered her with a sudden determination, and Bam gathered all her strength to push herself up from the bed. She made two failed attempts, where her arms simply refused to carry her weight, but the third time she managed to sit up straight.

“Third time’s a charm,” she muttered with an air of victory. Her hands sought support on the mattress, and she felt a cold clammy substance, filled with hard dry clumps, squelch under her fingers.
I fucking shat myself, this has to be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.