Chapter Seventeen

Paige emerged from the overgrown field and crept to the back of the small yellow cottage. Shadows moved around inside as she crouched down below the window and sprinted across to one of the twin structures. Peeking around the concrete wall, she looked behind trees and scanned the winged fountain before making a break for the van. The keys are under the seat, she thought, just leave. She crawled around to the driver’s side, opened the door and flinched at a pair of handcuffs dangling from the steering wheel. Hiding behind the door, she slid down the van, pulled up her knees and buried her head. Gabriel haunted her. She twirled the bulky necklace around her finger and wept into her arms. Twenty-seven years had passed since that fateful Halloween night, but to Paige it had just happened. She wiped her face, replaced the keys under the seat and closed the door. She refused to mourn him.

Startled by the sound of crunching gravel, Paige peeked around from the front of the van. A faint green light combed the edge of the sugarcane field while a bright red light glowed from inside the cottage. She ducked back behind the van. The crunching intensified. Slouching down, she inched closer to the sound. Muffled cries led her to a nearby oak tree, but behind the girth of the massive oak stood Regan. Tied to a small pine tree with her mouth duct taped shut, she stamped her feet and mumbled something inaudible. Paige stood before the damsel in distress with folded arms and a smirk.

“Well, hello there,” she said. “I take it you need Little Miss Fashion Queen’s help?”

Regan mumbled something inaudible as Paige grabbed hold of the tape and attempted to rip it off but her fingers slipped. With a stronger grip, she grabbed hold of the other side and yanked it across until the offending mouthpiece surrendered. Regan gasped. Frizzy haired with a torn dress, her face lined with anger and fear, she somehow managed to retain her beauty.

“Where have you been?” she snapped. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you! Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re in? This is all your fault Little Miss Fashion Queen!”

Paige considered replacing the tape. “I have no problem leaving you here,” she said.

Regan held her tongue while Paige wrestled with the knotted rope binding her arms and wrists around the tree. She wiggled around and barked orders until Paige finally loosened the knot and then stepped aside letting Regan take over. After freeing herself, she brushed off her dress, patted down her hair and regained a semblance of composure.

“Let’s go,” she said, fumbling with her high-heeled shoes and removing them from her feet. “Where were you anyway?”

“Where were you?” Paige asked.

“Locked in the attic. Come on, we need to go.” Regan grabbed for her arm but stumbled back.

“There’s something I need to do,” Paige said, pulling away from her.

“Oh, and what’s that Princess?”

“I have to meet with Vincent.”

Regan laughed and shook her head, “Have you lost your mind? You don’t need to see him. Now come on, let’s go wait in the van.”

“No,” Paige said, pulling back her arm again. “I have to meet with him. That’s why I’m here.”

“Honey, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but–”

“I’ve been talking to Gabriel,” she said. “I plan on having a little chat with the devil and his gold pocket watch.”

Extending her long red fingernail, Regan replied, “You listen to me, Paige, there’s no such thing as ghosts, and anything you see, is a trick. If Gabriel said you need to see father, than believe me, you don’t.”

“But it’s just the opposite,” she said. “Gabriel told me to get in the van and leave. He doesn’t want to be saved.”

Regan scanned the property and then fell back against the tree. She stared at the biological remains dangling from Paige’s neck and hung her head down. Her toes played in the dirt.

“He really said that?” she asked. “He said he didn’t want to be saved?”

Paige nodded.

Leaning forward, Regan asked, “So you know what’s going on?”

Paige nodded.

“So, you remember everything, like, everything?”

“Not entirely.”

“Oh, well, you and I, we didn’t get along so well, just in case you don’t remember.”

“It’s coming back to me,” Paige said.

Two shadows appeared down the gravel road. Hunched over and moving fast, the two figures raced closer with their elongated arms dangling by their sides and their necks awkwardly extended. Surrounded by a bright red light, Regan clinched her fists and stood in front of Paige as the two figures approached. Expressionless and vacant-eyed, they held out their long arms, their thin fingers brushing Regan’s curls before they flew off their feet and slammed into the gravel road. Regan brushed away her wild hair and tossed her shoulders back.

Paige exhaled her belated breath. “Are those the guys that tied you up?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Regan huffed. “I can’t tell them apart.”

“Who are they?” she asked, “Are they like us? Created in a lab?”

Regan shook her head, “No, they’re not like us. They’re brainless creatures without a soul.”

Paige walked over and looked down at the two men. They resembled Alain, exactly like Alain. She shuddered and turned away. Regan joined her and stood over them, nudging one with her toe and then rubbing her shoulders.

“Kendal lost her twin,” she said.

“I know,” Paige answered, “so did I.”

Regan nodded, “I know. I might have lost mine too.”

“What happened, Regan? Where is everyone?”

“Everything went wrong,” she replied. Her high-heeled shoes dangled from her fingers as she raised her hands into the air, “They could all be dead for all I know!”

Paige shook her head, “No, they’re not. I think I saw Billy over by the fields, and there’s at least two people inside the cottage.”

Raising her eyebrows, Regan asked, “Billy? What happened to Professor?” The two men moaned and twitched their arms. Regan stepped back, grabbed the rope by the pine tree and wrapped it around their feet. “Come on,” she said, “we better go. This won’t hold.”

They jogged back to the van and ducked down in the backseat where Regan hastily explained the extent of her knowledge. She had snuck onto the property before they arrived and stole the medicine for Michael, but Alain found her and locked her in the attic. Vincent later threw Ashley in the attic. Kendal eventually came to the rescue and informed them that Michael had been taken to the morgue along with Alain.

“What morgue?” Paige asked. “There’s a morgue on the property?”

“Yeah, it’s downstairs,” Regan answered, “next to the library.”

After Kendal freed them, Ashley went to retrieve Michael in the hopes that the medicine would still work. Regan intended on rescuing Paige after she freed Billy, who was handcuffed to the steering wheel of the van.

“I looked in the pits, but you weren’t there, so I headed back to the van, that’s when the freaks nabbed me. Billy went to check on Ashley and Michael.”

“What about Kendal?” Paige asked. “Where did she go?”

“As far as I know, she’s still at the morgue trying to revive Alain. I told her he’s a lost cause. That medicine can only do so much. I don’t know about Michael.” Regan sighed and shook her head, “I can’t talk to him, but maybe he’s just blocking me. I’m sure that’s all it is. Michael can’t die,” she laughed. Digging through a plastic bag on the floorboard, she fished out a miniature liquor bottle, cracked it open and chugged it down. When Paige asked about Vincent’s whereabouts, Regan shrugged and figured he was in the library.

“This happens all the time,” she said, searching for another bottle. “We come up with a scheme to get the meds for Michael, and father uses it as leverage. In the end, he likes to sit back and watch it all play out. He’s a sadist.”

“I have to see him,” Paige said. “If I’m going to save Gabriel, I have to face Vincent.”

“Well have fun,” Regan said, cracking open another bottle. “I’m staying right here. It was nice knowing you, again.”

Paige peeked through the van’s green curtain and reached for the door handle.

“Don’t be stupid,” Regan said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s just wait for the others.”

“I’m going.”

“Princess, listen, Michael has a plan, let’s just–”

“Michael’s dead!”

Brushing back her long thick hair, Regan sucked down her drink and threw open the door. “After you,” she said.

Paige followed behind a barefooted Regan toward a circular section of the house. Creeping in through a side door, they entered a stairwell and ascended the steep wooden steps leading to a metal door at the top. Once inside, Paige stayed close behind as they tiptoed across the room. Moonlight shone through a small window providing relief from complete darkness. Paige scanned the area for dangerous perpetrators. A strong musky smell, combined with mildew and furniture polish, assaulted the air causing her to let loose an unexpected sneeze. Regan turned around, narrowed her eyes and mouthed, shut up! They crept toward an open doorway and Paige, thrown off kilter by the sneeze, ran into a piece of furniture covered with a white sheet. An out-of-tune piano squawked from underneath and Regan whipped around again. Paige mouthed an apology. The open doorway led to a long hallway where an owl themed cuckoo clock hung on the wall. With outstretched wings, its large black eyes darted from side to side keeping in rhythm with the ticking of the second-hand. A balustrade carved out of dark oak curved down to the first floor. Stepping off the stairs, they stood before two large wooden doors. Regan turned to Paige with bulging eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and pushed her way inside.

Wall-to-wall shelves of hardback books decorated the spacious room. Cigar smoke fogged the atmosphere and clouded the high-vaulted ceiling as they crept across the black-and-white checkered floor. Cuckoo clocks clustered the walls along with antique tools and portrait paintings hung in gold frames. An old world globe stood in the back corner along with a Civil War map that stretched out above a dark cherry oak desk. Puffing on his cigar, a man in a yellow fedora hat sat behind the desk and motioned for them to come closer.

“Dere she is,” he grinned.

Regan and Paige glanced at each other and stepped forward.

“I do love dese nights, with duh full moon shinin’ overhead.” Vincent pushed out his chair and shuffled around the desk with his gold-handled walking cane. “Regan, my condolences. I must say, he lasted longer dan I thought he would.”

“What are you talking about, Fath–”

“Michael in duh morgue, he an Alain both. Ashley dere too.”

“You’re lying,” she said.

Vincent stood before his daughter and pointed his cigar in her face, “You out.”

Regan flinched and shook her head, “I’m not out. I can’t be out! Where am I supposed to go?”

“Figure it out, girl.” He sat down on top of his desk and pointed to a cuckoo clock with his cane, “Paige, you right on time.” A muddy red glow, stained and singed, outlined his frame and then quickly dimmed out. His deep obsidian eyes twinkled.

“You an I, we got some catchin’ up tuh do.”

Paige crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You first,” she said.

Vincent smiled and chuckled to himself, “Don’t you worry, I’m always first, little girl.” Paige eyed the gold chain dangling from his vest as a wild grin spread across his face.

“You like nursery rhymes, little girl?”

Paige held her tongue.

Vincent laughed and threw his head back. “Sure yuh do!” he exclaimed. “How ‘bout dis one, dere was a young woman who swallowed a lie, now I don’t know why she swallow duh lie, I guess she’ll die.”

The large wooden doors slammed shut as Paige turned around and noticed she now stood alone. The shadows of the library moved closer.

“Regan done flew duh coop,” he grinned. “Course, she never took a liken tuh my rhymes.”

Waving smoke out of her face, Paige asked, “You plan on killing me too? Stick me in the morgue? Lock me in the attic? I’ll take that over the pits.”

“Time’ll tell.”

“What lie have I swallowed?” she asked.

“You swallow whatever I feed yuh, an tuh be fair, Paige, I ain’t killed nobody.”

“And Gabriel?”

“We get tuh that.” Vincent slid off the desk and strolled over to a long altar positioned against the wall. Black and red candles danced in the stagnant air oozing wax that mixed and cooled forming icicles off the sides of the shrine.

“Yuh gotta please duh spirits, Paige,” he said, placing a lock of hair next a picture of Alain. “Dey like my fiddle playin’, keeps em pacified. Dey like my offerin’s too.” An assortment of jewelries and trinkets lined the altar along with dried flowers, gold coins and unopened whiskey bottles. Photographs and portraits were placed between the candles with hair clippings attached to each frame. Gabriel’s photo sat in the center of the shrine along with a mocha-skinned woman with electric amber-green eyes. Paige leaned in closer.

“Dere she is,” Vincent whispered in her ear. “Duh woman in duh red dress.”

She flinched and backed away.

“You feel it, Paige? Energy’s in duh air, life feeds on death,” he paused to relight his cigar. “Look around, girl, can yuh smell it? We surrounded by death. We surrounded by energy.”

A surge of electricity engulfed the room as the bright halogen bulbs flooded the library with blinding radiance. “Let dere be light!” he exclaimed.

Paige narrowed her eyes and looked around the room. A stone sculpture sat atop one of the bookshelves, an impish creation with clawed fingers and goat-like ears, it clutched a copy of Charles Darwin’s work, The Descent of Man.

“We descendants of light, an I’ve scanned duh great abyss. I know what’s in duh king’s tomb. I know what’s on duh other side.” Vincent’s cane tapped the floor as he shuffled back to his desk. “I know who lurks in duh Great Pyramid, an believe me girl, it ain’t King Tut.” He laughed and propped his feet on the desk.

Paige stood transfixed, absorbed by a gold-framed oil painting on the wall across from the altar. She recognized the symbol, the Egyptian eye with a long tail curling out from the side, the all-seeing eye, she thought. It watched her, as if reading her mind and calling her out, the tapered eye sensed her subversion. It tasted her contempt with its long spiral tail.

“The Eye of Horus,” she said, turning around, “is this the guy lurking in the Great Pyramid?”

Vincent chuckled, “Why yes, yuh might say dat.”

“And this painting?” she asked, “The phoenix rising from the flames?”

Vincent nodded, “Rebirth. Only a select few get dat privilege.”

Underneath the two paintings sat a stone pyramid. Hand-carved and nearly six feet in height, the gold-plated sculpture featured the twelve signs of the zodiac. Carved into all three sides, the symbols were painted vibrant shades of red, gold, green and blue. Sunrays wrapped around the pyramid like jellyfish tentacles beaming from an orange sun. Paige shook her head, walked across the room and stood before his desk.

“Why did you trick me? The woman in the red dress, what was the point?”

“Incentive,” he said, “an for my own personal amusement. Gabriel ain’t supposed tuh die, Paige, he gonna rise from his ashes, just like duh phoenix. You an I, we want duh same thing.”

“For different reasons, I’m sure,” she answered.

“No matter duh reason.”

“You had Alain poison him?”

“I did.”

“Then why bring him back?”

“My business.”

“And if I back out?”

“You won’t.” Vincent adjusted his hat and tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “You think you know about dis an dat, but girl don’t know spits from grits.”

Paige smirked and shook her head, “I can’t believe you’re a scientific genius. You’re more like, what did Michael call you, oh yeah, a southern fried swamp dweller.”

Vincent laughed and leaned back in his seat, “We got a live one here, don’t we? I’ll sure miss Michael’s tasteless wit. You gonna help change dat.”

Paige stepped forward and placed her hands on the desk, “How does this play out, Vincent? Because I’ve seen the other side too, and I don’t think your spirits are all that pleased.”

Vincent dropped his legs and leaned over the desk, “Yuh need tuh take a few steps back, little girl.”

Paige folded her arms and stood her ground, until the ground failed her. Large cracks appeared in the walls as chunks broke off and fell to the floor disappearing through the black and white squares. The ceramic tiles liquefied beneath her feet and she lunged forward, clinging to the desk as the walls crumbled around her. A blinding array of colors engulfed Vincent and swallowed him whole until the room became white-washed and void. Dizzy and disoriented, she fell into a dream flooded with lost memories and familiar voices. She clung to the desk, the only thing solid left in the room where Vincent sat and smoked his cigar.

“Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.” He smiled and tapped his cane on the ground. Paige looked around to see the walls intact and un-breached. She steadied herself.

“Your professor was wrong, girl, dizzy spell gonna keep comin’ back. Longer yuh here, worse it gets.”

“You’re messing with me again,” she said, glancing at the heavy wooden doors. “Quit playing games, I came here willingly.”

Vincent pulled out his gold pocket watch, “Ain’t playin’ games,” he said. “We got holes round here, an you in one, been swallowed up by one of dem worms.”

Weak at the knees and unable to stand, she pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. The recurring déjà vu rattled her sanity. She looked around the room, at Vincent, the pyramid, the black-and-white checkered floor, the all-seeing eye, the altar–she winced at the picture of Gabriel.

With a tooth-filled grin, Vincent relit his cigar and propped up his feet. “Dere’s a good girl, just have a seat now. I got you in my sights, Paige, duh ghost of your past is duh ghost of your future, if yuh read me. You read me girl?”

She nodded.

“Dis ain’t you’re fishin’ hole.”

“I know.”

“Well give duh dog a bone, yuh do know spits from grits.” Vincent poured a shot of whiskey and slid it across the desk. “I see dose clouds burnin’ off, so let’s get down tuh business.”

Paige picked up the shot glass, swallowed it down and slid it back to Vincent. He smiled and puffed his cigar.

“What year we livin’ in, Paige?”

“I don’t know.”

Pouring another shot, Vincent lifted the glass into the air, sucked it dry and violently shook his head, “Whew! Mighty fine! Here now, let me show yuh something.” He pulled out a newspaper from a side drawer and threw it across the desk. Paige picked it up and read the main headline: Gabriel Cross collapsed outside nightclub, dead at 18. Her hands trembled when she saw the date, November 1, 2001.

Vincent stood from the desk, shuffled across the room with his gold-handled walking cane and picked up the picture of Gabriel. Setting it down before her, he reclaimed his seat, smoked his cigar and removed his yellow fedora hat revealing a smooth baldhead. Paige dug her fingers into the chair.

“Need help with duh math?” he asked, resting his elbows on the table while stroking his black goatee. “2028. Yuh been missin’ for quite some time, but I knew you’d be showin’ up. I told Alain where tuh send yuh.”

“I’ve been missing for twenty-seven years?” she asked.

“Vincent grinned and nodded, “Paige gonna catch dat fly.”

“It’s the library,” she softly said.

“Look down, girl.”

Paige gripped the chair and glanced down at the floor. The black-and-white ceramic tiles repeated their chessboard pattern, but next to Paige, a large white square filled the space of four smaller ones.

“I warned yuh girl, shoulda taken a step back. Yuh saw what happens, but we ain’t ready yet. We gonna wait till duh next train rolls by.”

“Alain pushed me in,” she said, staring at the large white square. “He poisoned Gabriel and then forced me to come here with him, and then, I woke up in my bed.”

“Twenty-seven years later,” Vincent nodded. “Regan found yuh, went against my wishes an took yuh home tuh Justin an Allie. She ain’t duh brightest star in duh sky.”

“And they just went along with it,” she said, her voice quavering, “my parents, they just, they just pretended like nothing happened and kept me inside.”

Vincent shrugged and poured another shot. “Well now, in their defense, I insisted no one tell yuh, till I determined how tuh handle duh situation. Regan threw a curveball, but it’s workin’ out fine now.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why go through all of this?”

“My business.”

“Do you even care that your two sons died tonight?”

“We gettin’ off subject.”

Paige stared at the picture of Gabriel and rubbed her forehead, “Why me?” she asked. “If you’re able to, if you can trav… if you have access to, this, then why involve me?”

Vincent chuckled and slammed his shot. “I ain’t steppin’ on dat square! No ma’am, an back den, it was a new revelation. We got things sorted out now.” Vincent poured another shot and slid it across the desk. Paige caught the glass tumbler and slid it off the edge, smiling as it shattered to the floor. Slapping his knee, Vincent howled with laughter.

“We gotta live one here!” he exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yuh coulda just slid it back!”

“Why did you have Gabriel killed?”

“Ain’t no beatin’ round dat bush!”

“He was a threat to you, wasn’t he, you and your little council.”

“Yuh got it wrong girl, ain’t nobody a threat tuh me!”

Paige stood from the chair and backed away from the desk. She wanted to run for the heavy wooden doors, but Gabriel’s picture stopped her. Reaching for the frame, she gently ran her fingers through the lock of hair clipped to the side.

“Took it duh night he died,” Vincent said, checking his gold pocket watch. “Brought him back here from duh hospital, got duh morgue next door, fixed him up myself for duh viewin’.”

Paige yanked the hair clipping off the frame and stuffed it into her pocket. “He was a sacrifice, wasn’t he? I remember now, you’re all a bunch of lunatic occultists. Satan worshipers.”

Vincent rested his cigar on the ashtray and crossed his arms on the desk, “I please duh spirits, Paige, talk to em’, but I don’t worship nobody.”

“Why did you have Gabriel killed?” she asked again.

“He talked too much. Boy talked louder dan a backwoods preacher. Higher-ups wanted him silenced, I obliged.” Vincent unscrewed the top of the whiskey and held it to his mouth. “Ain’t got no more glasses round here, gotta take it straight from duh bottle,” he murmured.

She watched him take a long swig and then looked down at the picture of Gabriel. The black and white photograph enhanced his beauty, his half scowl/half smile, his windblown hair and magnetic eyes–his knowing eyes. He knew too much, she thought. Paige remembered. She remembered his secrets, his betrayals and his fall that Halloween night. He played both sides, Vincent, the higher-ups, he played the celebrity, the good son, the lost boy–Gabriel had everyone’s number but no one had his, not even Ashley. Know your enemy, he once told her, she now understood what he meant.

Vincent checked his gold pocket watch again and took another swig from the bottle. Straight from the bottle, she thought, just like the night he died. She remembered the phone conversation. She’d been staying at Gabriel’s house in New Orleans. He called from a pay phone to tell her about the newborn clone he’d just stolen, something he’d been planning for months, even had a name picked out. Matthew and Robin took the baby to an undisclosed location, but Gabriel was afraid for Paige to be at his house. He told her to meet him at The Cottonmouth, a club down on Bourbon Street. He told her Vincent was drunk, drinking straight from the bottle, that’s the only reason I got away with it, he’d said. Paige stroked the lock of hair in her pocket and sat down across from Vincent.

“Gabriel was easy to love,” she said.

“Oh my yes, yes he was.”

“You felt betrayed by him.”

“Dat boy betrayed a lot of people,” he said, “duh wrong people.”

“You tried to recreate him with Abbey, thinking he might be loyal, the perfect creation, the perfect son, but that didn’t work out either.”

“Duh hell you gettin’ at?” he asked.

Folding her arms, she replied, “You were mad at him for stealing Abbey so you had him killed.”

Vincent took another drink and shook his head, “Yuh got it wrong, little girl, I never planned on killin’ dat boy. My hands were tied. I loved Gabriel, I made Gabriel. Made you too.”

“And your hands won’t be tied again?”

Placing his hands on the table, Vincent pushed himself up and leaned over the desk, “No one ever gonna tie my hands again. I’m duh medicine man, ain’t nobody got what I got.” He reached into his drawer, pulled out a vile containing a white powder and placed it on the desk along with a piece of notebook paper.

“You gonna give him this.”