Page 35 of Spooked
While part of me wants to insist Mouse stop this charade and turn the car around to head back to the clubhouse, another part thinks this is exactly what I deserve. We’ll arrive at the Sullivan House, find it’s just another decaying monstrosity of times gone by, no ghosts, no Maeve. And then I won’t have to pretend anymore.
It’s that side that wins out. I stay silent on the drive, promising myself that if everything goes to shit, there’s always a bullet in my gun that can end my suffering.
When Mouse turns into the gate that I’d left open on my previous visit, and proceeds up the drive, the flash of lightning doesn’t even surprise me, though I don’t expect that my brotherswill share the apprehension of impending doom. At least I can relax in the knowledge that my brain injury affects only me, and that they won’t experience anything but an abandoned and neglected empty house. Though they may have a word to say about the track that certainly isn’t suitable for bikes.
We pull up, get out of the car, and have to wait for a few minutes for the bikes to come to a stop behind us. From their grimaces and the way Blade checks his ride, they’d found the track a challenge.
The sudden silence once all engines are cut off is oppressive. Until there’s the sound of another engine coming up the driveway.
All turning at once, we look to see who the fuck has come out on this stormy night to visit the Sullivan House.
When the chauffeured car stops, Mouse and I both recognise the woman stepping out.
It’s Mouse who hisses the warning. “That’s Siobhan Sullivan. She owns this house.”
“And Maeve is?”
Suspecting Drummer’s asking for clarification on the relationship between them, I answer, “Her niece.”
The old woman approaches, her stick striking the ground with each step. “Get out of here now,” she demands. “You’re trespassing on private property.” She sneers as her eyes fall on the cuts we’re wearing, and with the misguided arrogance that comes with age, spits out, “You’re a bunch of criminals. I insist you leave.”
Drummer’s not a man you can order around. Lazily, he leans back against his bike. “You employed SD Construction. The SD stands for Satan’s Devils, in case you didn’t know. You are conducting business with our club. Just so happens we’ve a reason to check this place out. We take security seriously, andwhen alerted that someone was on the premises, we were on the case straight away. You can thank us later.”
The last comment almost causes her to have conniptions. Her mouth opens and shuts, and her body judders in rage. Then she finds her backbone again. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll deal with any miscreants.”
With only a rise of his eyebrow, fully visible in the headlights still glaring from her car, Drummer challenges her. “You’re prepared to meet an armed assailant intent on stealing from the house?”
“There’s nothing left worth taking,” she states fast, confirming my suspicion, she’s sold anything of any value.
It’s at that moment that a scream comes from inside the building behind us. Siobhan starts forward, waving her stick threateningly. “Leave this to me.”
“Not fuckin’ likely,” Peg states. He marches forward, takes her by her arms, and steers her back to her car. He nods to the chauffeur. “Get her out of here.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“You do that.”
I’ve already had enough of the altercation. Leaving them to it and conveniently forgetting I’ve put everything down to my imagination, I swing/hop my way to the entrance and push inside. That Mouse, Drummer, Blade and Wraith are right behind me suggests that I’m not the only one who heard the scream that can only have come from Maeve, unless someone else is haunting this place. Standing in the hallway, I shout out, “Maeve?”
My voice echoes, mockingly bouncing off the empty space around me. I try again. “Maeve! Can you come to me? Follow my voice.”
It’s like the building is alive—walls seem to be moving, closing in all around. Whispers and murmurings reach my ears,but none of the voices are those of my brothers. Something compels me to ignore my companions and let the house lead me where it wants me to go, which is to the stairs. I climb them laboriously, swearing at the awkwardness of manoeuvring my crutches and bad leg. I almost slip in my haste to ascend and have to pause to regain my breath and balance.
“Maeve?” I call out again. Hearing sounds, I continue to move upward. It’s on the second floor that I’m faced with several closed doors, but there’s one in particular I feel drawn toward. I twist the handle of the door to Maeve’s childhood bedroom, pushing it open as apprehension seeps into my bones.
“Thank fuck,” I announce, as I see Maeve’s figure standing in front of me. I step inside, reaching for her as her body shimmers, flickers, and disappears.
A hand lands on my shoulder, startling me. “Just me.” Mouse’s reassurance comes as he adds, “I saw her too, Brother. She’s here in spirit, but not in the flesh.”
He saw her, too? At this moment, I can’t deal with the implications.
I can’t cope with everything that’s going on. My head is spinning, and pain throbs at my temples. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“She’s still in the hospital, Hound,” Mouse’s steady voice sounds. “You must have seen an image that she’s projecting.”
This shit is way out of my realm of belief or understanding. I can only think Mouse is highly susceptible and is picking up on my delirium. Before my accident, I’d never experienced anything that wasn’t one hundred percent real.
“My brain’s fucked,” I determine.
