Chapter 55
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Nigel’s pulse thudded in his throat as they climbed the stairs toward the seance room.
The tower might be stone, but the stairs to get to the third floor landing were part of the main house.
The shutters were long gone, and some of the windows had cracked under the onslaught of wind and debris.
Rain poured in through gaps, forming puddles beneath them.
The storm should have blotted out all light, but a red beam reached out from the tower above, painting the world in shades of blood.
Impossibly, the lantern was lit.
They’d just left behind the third floor and started up the steps to the seance room when a paler glow joined the scarlet.
Though they were encased in stonework now, the narrow windows were still glass, and had broken out entirely.
Shards glittered in their flashlight beams and reflected back the radiance seeping in from outside.
Nigel hurried to the closest window and peered out.
Rain lashed his skin, cold as ice and almost as hard.
The sound of the ocean was nearly deafening as the surf pounded against the island, a roaring animal seeking to devour them all.
A flaming ship rode the waves.
It was an old-fashioned yacht, its sails turned to sheets of fire, the wooden deck ablaze. Small figures stood along the rail, staring inland, their hair and bodies burning ferociously.
“It looks like everyone’s joining the party,” Lawson said. She was breathing heavily from the climb, but Nigel kept his worry to himself, knowing she’d refuse to turn back now. No matter what it might cost her.
“There’s nothing we can do about them, unless they’re able to come ashore.” Oscar started up the last bend in the stairs before the seance room. “Let’s keep going.”
The door was shut, and the scarlet paint on it looked wet and fresh. As Oscar reached to push it open, the snarling wolf’s head on the knocker snapped at him.
“Fuck!” He snatched his fingers back.
Nigel grabbed the baggie of salt out of his pocket and threw the contents at the door. A growl seemed to come from the knocker—then it was still and silent. The paint was dry and mottled with age once again.
Oscar opened the door, much more cautiously this time.
Inside, all the windows were blown out, but no shards littered the floor—the force that had destroyed them had come from inside the building.
The boards over the broken window were cracked in the middle, as if at a terrible blow, but held for now.
The table lay on its side, one leg broken, the chairs smashed into kindling. At the top of the narrow ladder to the light, the trap door was pinned open, and cold air flooded down from it along with the lantern’s crimson glow.
“They’re up there,” Oscar said, looking to the trap door. “The rest of you wait on the stairway where it’s safe. Safer, anyway.”
“Like hell,” Chris said bluntly. “We’re in this together. Give Tina and me the Faraday cloth—we’ll each grab an end and tie it off to ground.”
The silver thread in the cloth would act as a conductor, and once grounded would drain off the energy of any entity that passed through it. Whether or not that would work on Gloria, Nigel didn’t know for sure, but it would definitely hurt Ullman.
While Oscar shrugged off his backpack and Chris pulled out the Faraday cloth, Nigel prepared a canister of salt, tearing the spout off completely so nothing would impede its flow from the cardboard container.
“If we can subdue Ullman, maybe we can talk to Gloria. Tell her we didn’t understand, that we intend to reveal the truth about what happened here. ”
“Unlike a ghost, she isn’t stuck in the past.” Lawson armed herself with salt as well. “If we can just get her to listen to us, maybe we can convince her to stop attacking.”
“I hope so.” Oscar grabbed hold of the ladder. “If not…I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along.”
And so saying, he began to climb.