The Legend of Darklore Manor and Other Tales of Terror (16 page)

     "Can't we sue him or something?" I asked.
     "I'm afraid not," Sandra said. "Weiss made sure that his ass was covered. The contract I signed gave him the right to edit the article at his discretion. Not only did he make us look like amateurs, he didn't mention Ron or Jake by name and removed any allusion to the fact that their deaths might be related to the Darklore curse. I thought he'd make a big deal about it, but instead he made every attempt to distance himself from any controversy. I guess he figured that since he sent them into the house with undeniable knowledge of the curse, he might be liable for a lawsuit blaming him for their wrongful deaths."
     Sandra vowed to set the record straight, but before she could even begin her uphill battle, her spirit was crushed beneath an avalanche of devastating events. She wrote a new article and tried to explain the true details of our investigation, but without any evidence to verify the facts, people scoffed at her claims. This started a chain reaction. Once her reputation had been sullied, she couldn't get anyone to publish her work. This caused her to lapse into a deep depression, wherein she stopped writing altogether until eventually her book deal fell through.
     Over the next several weeks Sandra became despondent and we grew more and more distant. A few months later, I returned to Pennsylvania and got a low-profile job editing copy for a local newspaper. I tried not to think about the horrible events of the past, hoping to lay them to rest and get on with my life, but the memories of Darklore Manor lingered to haunt me, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not escape its relentless shadow.
     The Darklore curse reached its zenith in 1968 when three area teens were reported missing after setting out to spend Halloween night inside the abandoned mansion. Seventeen-year-old Eric Shipley, along with sixteen-year-old James Murphy and Andrea Mather vanished overnight and were never seen again.
     Police investigated the unexplained disappearances but found nothing to validate the claims that the three had entered Darklore Manor. On November 9th, 1968, the following article appeared in the Salem Gazette:
LOCAL TEENS STILL MISSING
Parents of the three Essex Township teenagers who have been missing since October 31st report that they still have hope that their children will be found safe and unharmed. In statements given to the police, friends of the missing teens reported that the three Ipswich High School seniors had plans to hold a séance on Halloween night in Darklore Manor, the deserted mansion along Old Salem Road.
     This once-stately Victorian manor has stood unoccupied for the last twenty-seven years and has since fallen into a decrepit state of disrepair. The mansion has been the sight of several unexplained occurrences since the mysterious disappearance of its last owner, Damon Darklore, who vanished in 1941 along with his wife and daughter.
     Sheriff George Hill and his deputies have investigated the mansion and reported no noticeable signs of forced entry. "There's something very wrong about that place," stated Hill, "you can actually feel it. Something's just not right. I wish the city would just tear it down and be rid of it, once and for all."
     Despite Sheriff Hill's statement, the popular belief was that the teens somehow gained access to the mansion and once inside, the three held a séance to speak with the dead. But according to the rumors things went horribly wrong, and instead of merely communing with spirits, they disturbed and awakened some unnatural force that trapped them within the house and eventually caused their deaths.
Three more years passed before fate drew me back to the unhallowed halls of Darklore Manor. During that time, I researched numerous ancient legends in my quest to shed light on the darkest crevices of the realm of the supernatural. I became well-versed in the mythologies of the world and sought out every bit of information I could find on the various theories of the afterlife. While I spent my days trying to find answers to explain what I had encountered during our tragic expedition, I dreaded falling asleep for fear of the horrific visions that awaited me each night in my dreams. My slumber was haunted by disturbingly vivid nightmares of being trapped inside Darklore Manor with ghastly specters of the dead. Though they were only dreams, they filled my heart with unimaginable terror and I awoke each day thankful to find myself safe in my own bed.
     In October of 1971, I received a phone call that changed my nightmares to reality once again.
     "I need to talk to you, Miss Moore." The young man's voice conveyed a sense of urgency as he spoke. "It's very important, to you and Miss Faraday."
     "Who is this?" I asked. "What do you want?"
     "I'd rather explain it in person. I just want a moment of your time. Please, Miss Moore, I need your help." There was a desperate sincerity to the caller's voice that made me want to trust him and help him. Intrigued by his mysterious request, I agreed to meet him at a coffee shop near my work.
     As I sat and waited in the crowded cafe, I was caught off-guard by the person that approached me. He was much younger than I expected, looking to be only sixteen or seventeen years old. He was tall and slender with sad brown eyes that matched the color of his shaggy hair. He offered a timid smile, then took a seat opposite me. The wrinkled condition of his faded jeans and flannel shirt made me think that he had slept in his clothes.
     "Thank you for coming, Miss Moore."
     "So what's this about?" I asked, even more curious than before.
     "It's about the house... the one in Gloucester... the one you've been dreaming about."
     "What?" I exclaimed, trying to conceal my alarm over the fact that he somehow knew about my dreams.
     "I have them too—the horrible dreams about that place. They're not just nightmares, though, are they?" His eyes glanced downward and he stared blankly into a cup of coffee that he clutched between his nervous, pale hands. "There's something inside them that calls to you. Once it gets your scent, it latches onto you and never lets go."
     "Who are you?" I asked.
     "My name is Theo. Theo Thompson."
     As I struggled to remember why his name sounded familiar, his next sentence brought things to light.
     "My parents were victims of the Darklore curse. They died right outside the mansion gates ten years ago."
     "Yes, I remember reading about the accident."
     "It wasn't an accident," Theo said heatedly. "Something deliberately caused my father to crash his car that night. I grew up in Gloucester, and I know all about the ghosts that haunt the manor. I've read all the stories and heard all the rumors that circulate in the local gossip. I pay close attention to what people say, especially when they start to whisper in private. I know all the horrific secrets that have been swept under the rug since the Darklore curse claimed its first victim."
     "So what made you decide to contact me?"
     "You know that story about the teenagers who disappeared near Gloucester three years ago?"
     "Yes. They were supposed to have been inside Darklore Manor."
     "That's right," he confirmed. "They were my friends. It's my fault they're dead."
     "What makes you think that they're dead? The paper only said they were missing and as far as I know, no bodies have ever been found. They could still turn up."
     "No, they won't. I know because I saw them go into that house, but they never came back out. The police searched the place but didn't find any trace of them. That means they're still in there... and they're not alive."
     "What do you think happened to them?"
     Theo sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. "My grandfather belonged to the Knights of Thule, so did my father. After my parents died I found an old brass key hidden among my father's personal belongings. I never saw anything like it. It was the key that was given to him when he became a member of the Knights of Thule."
     My curiosity was piqued. "So what's this got to do with your missing friends?"
     "They wanted to hold a séance in Darklore Manor on Halloween night. It was a dare. I told them about the key I had. They knew a way to get into the house through an unlocked window. I was afraid to go inside. I gave them the key, then chickened out. I'm responsible for whatever happened to them inside that house, and in a way, Miss Moore, so are you."
     "How am I responsible?"
     "The magazine article about your investigation inside Darklore Manor mentioned the secret door you discovered in the library—the one with the strange keyhole."
     As he spoke, a grim realization began to sweep over me.
     "I gave them the key," he said solemnly, "but you told them where to use it."
     My stomach began to twist in knots as the full weight of Theo's words set in. I was unable to respond to his accusation.
     "The nightmares we have... it's them," he said, "they're haunting us, and it won't ever stop until we find their bodies and set their souls free."
     "No, Theo, it's not your friends that haunt your dreams. It may look like them and sound like them, but it's something else. Something's been in that house for a long time. It may have existed deep in the earth below Darklore Manor for centuries before the mansion was ever built. I've done some research on the history of the area and I found some startling legends dating back hundreds of years. According to Indian lore, the area was the resting place of an ancient spirit that had the power to command the shadows. The surrounding woodlands were shunned by the regional tribes who believed that the forests harbored dark spirits that hunted men."
     "I don't doubt that the stories are true, but it doesn't change the fact that my friends are dead and their spirits are trapped inside Darklore Manor."
     "There's nothing we can do."
     "Just ignoring the problem isn't going to make it go away or help us sleep at night. We have to do something to set things right."
     "So what's your plan?"
     "I'm going inside the manor and I need your help."
     "I... I can't..." I stammered. "I can't go back there. I'm sorry."
     "That's okay. I didn't really expect you to, but I need you to convince Miss Faraday to come back with me. If she can make contact with them, maybe we can put their spirits to rest. I can't get in touch with her, though."
     "That doesn't surprise me. She doesn't talk to anyone anymore. We haven't spoken in years."
     "Please, Miss Moore—if you ever want your life to be normal again, please help me."
     "All right, Theo. I'll see what I can do."
     It came as no surprise to discover that Theo had hitchhiked all the way from Gloucester to plead his case with me. I agreed to give him a lift back to New York and introduce him to Sandra, but I made it clear that after that, he was on his own. He was hoping that Sandra would drive him back to Gloucester if he could convince her to return to Darklore Manor.
     Our first task was locating Sandra. In an attempt to sever all ties to her past, she had moved from her old residence and left no forwarding address. After hitting a dead end with all my old contact information, I made a phone call to Sandra's mother who was more than happy to provide me with her daughter's new address. Sandra had purchased a bungalow in a secluded area of wooded countryside in upper New York State. The remote setting was a drastically diverse change from her town house in the city, but it was a perfect location for someone who wanted to shut herself off from the rest of the world.
     We arrived at her home late in the afternoon. I told Theo to wait in the car while I went inside and broke the ice for him. Sandra didn't seem surprised to see me when she opened the door, but I was somewhat unprepared for the startling change in her appearance. Her sandy blonde hair had turned completely white and her face and figure looked extremely gaunt, as if she had been slowly withering away for the last four years. I tried to conceal my shock at her appearance as she invited me inside, but it was no use attempting to hide my feelings from her.
     The interior of her house was cluttered with religious artifacts from every known culture on Earth. The walls were covered with mystical symbols, crosses, sacred talismans and holy wards, while incense and votives burned before pagan statues that adorned ritual shrines of protection. She was apparently trying to create a spiritual buffer zone to keep something at bay.
     Ignoring the obvious questions about her home and appearance, I began the conversation with some innocent small-talk. "So how have you been?" I asked.
     "I'm fine," Sandra replied, flashing an unconvincing grin, "I've been doing some work in the private sector. I have some very influential clients." She picked up an open bottle of wine from her kitchen counter and asked, "Can I pour you a glass?"
     "No, thank you."
     "Suit yourself," she said, then emptied the remainder of the wine into a crystal goblet and gulped it down.
     "I thought you had a rule about drinking alone."
     "Rules were made to be broken. I was just drowning some old memories."
     I picked up a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills from the kitchen table. "Having trouble sleeping?" I asked.
     "No," Sandra laughed, "I take those once in a while to help me relax. Like I said, I'm fine."
     "Don't lie to me, Sandra. I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you're not being honest."
     "I don't know what you're talking about."
     I decided to get straight to the point. "I know that you're still having the dreams about Darklore Manor. I'm having them too, and we're not the only ones."
     Sandra dropped her stoic facade and her expression changed to one of serious concern.
     "Why did you come here, Pam?"
     "You know about the three teenagers who disappeared in the mansion, right?"
     Sandra didn't respond.
     "They went in there because they read the article about our investigation. They tried to make contact with the ghosts that haunt the manor, but now I think their souls are trapped in there. I've been contacted by one of their friends who thinks that you might be able to help."
     "Nothing can help them now," she said coldly.
     "Why?"
     "Because I know what happened to them inside that house."
     I stared at her incredulously. The certainty in her voice was unnerving. "How do you know?"
     "I saw it... I saw it in my dreams." She stared into the bottom of her empty goblet as if it were some sort of crystal ball. "I couldn't tell anybody. Even if anyone actually believed me, there would have been another investigation. More people would have gone into that hellhole and more people would have died. I won't have any more deaths on my conscience."