Page 13 of Feathered Web

At the landing, we found ourselves on the second story. The stairs continued up for two more floors. But Abernethy led us down the hall, opening each bedroom door as we went. The bedrooms were all beautiful, with high ceilings and the original wallpaper still intact. However, I noticed that some of the floorboards looked new, and the molding had clearly been replaced. Closet doors had been painted and the bathrooms were far more up-to-date than they should have been.

Renovations, I thought. Somebody had been renovating the house.

But why?

Wouldn’t the house be more attractive to history buffs if everything was kept intact, in its original state? As we listened to Abernethy talk about some of the inmates they’d kept locked up, I also began to notice that each room bore a number on the door, and those numbers looked all shiny and new. The carpeting was also new.

Abernethy prattled on, talking about the decor and the furnishings, but all the while I was searching psychically through the house, sensing for spirits. By now, I had encountered about seven or eight, including the little girl in the kitchen. I could tell a few of them were beginning to understand that I could sense ghosts and that Kerris could sense them, too, and so could Rowan.

As we made our way up through the bedroom suites and secondary parlors on the upper floors, I became more and more uneasy. Then, on the third floor, I heard someone whispering.

We need your help. We’re being held hostage. Please help us go through the Veil. Some of us are ready to move on but he won’t let us. I know you can hear me, so please, won’t you help us?

That wasn’t what I had expected to hear. I’d expected a threat, or a warning, not a cry for help. It wasn’t Penelope. While I hadn’t met her, I knew that I’d recognize her if she spoke to me. No, this plea came from a spirit trapped inside the house. I turned to Kerris and Rowan, wanting to tell them, but something told me to keep my thoughts to myself, in terms of saying anything aloud in front of Abernethy.

Are you in danger? It seemed odd to ask a spirit if she was in danger—she was still dead, after all, but there were threats to spirits and I didn’t want to make this ghost even more of a target.

If we don’t do what he wants, he threatens us with obliteration. He’s even worse dead than he was when we were alive. I don’t want to frighten people. I don’t like being used as a sideshow feature.

The woman solidified into view. She was wearing a dress from turn of the nineteenth century. She was a lovely young woman, around twenty. Or she would have been if she hadn’t been covered with sores and boils. She was standing at the side of one of the bedroom doors.

Who are you? I asked.

My name’s Agnes. My family institutionalized me here when I was eighteen. I died when I was twenty, she said. I developed tuberculosis and the doctor promised them he could cure me, but they needed to leave me here. I died a painful year and a half later. She gave me a long, sad look and I could feel her pain and the sense of loss.

A thought occurred to me. Did the owner remain here after he died? Surely, he couldn’t still be alive, not unless he’d been a shifter or a witch.

Agnes glanced around nervously. He left after he died, but not long ago, he returned. She summoned him back.

Who did? I was beginning to get seriously worried.

The Gatekeeper. The men made her do it. And once Dr. Myopa returned, he began to corral us again. I want to leave. I’m tired of being here. I want to rest.

So Penelope was here.

Do you know where she is?

The spirit shook her head. She looked tired and sounded tired. More than that, her entire demeanor shifted as she spoke.

No, I wish I did. Maybe, just maybe, she could do her job and help me escape.

“Are you all right?” Abernethy startled me out of my thoughts. I looked over to see him staring at me, his eyes narrowed.

I didn’t want to tell him I was conversing with ghosts in the house, since we had no idea whether he was part of whatever was going on.

“Sorry, just thinking about the past and what happened here. Do you ever feel like the past seeps through to the present?” I wanted some idea of whether he was just doing his job, or whether he was part of the kidnapping.

Abernethy paused, then sat on the bed in the room we were in. He looked at me, then at Kerris and Rowan.

“Every day I think about the past. Every day I walk through this house and think about the victims who lived here. My great-grandmother died here. When I had the chance to take this job, I jumped on it. It’s a way for me to reconnect to a past that very few in my family care about.”

In that simple speech, I knew—in my heart—that he wasn’t part of whatever Agnes had said was happening. His voice was clear and free of subterfuge. Over the past months, my ability to read people had grown, especially with the increase in magic I’d had to do in order to stop the energy reflux syndrome.

“What was your great-grandmother’s name?” I asked.

“Carolina. She was forty-five when she was infected with cholera. My grandmother was ten years old when Carolina was confined here, and three months later, Carolina died. They couldn’t even bring out her body for burial,” he said, sadness permeating every word.

“That must have been rough,” Rowan said.

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