When You're Close, page 17
Nathaniel's gaze darted between the two detectives, anxiety clear in his eyes. "Huldra House is the strongest building on the island," he retorted, his voice wavering but defiant. "It's made from the black rock. If it's not safe here, then where is?"
Finn knelt beside the bed, bringing himself to eye level with Nathaniel. "The storm isn't our only concern," he admitted, honesty clear in his tone. "There's someone dangerous on the island... The person who killed Lord Carmichael and Ivar Ward, and we think he might be here in this house. We don't want anything to happen to you."
The boy's face paled further. "Is my mother safe?" he whispered, searching Finn's eyes for the truth.
Choosing his words with caution, Finn replied, "Lady Ferguson is in a place where no one can hurt her."
Nathaniel's eyes filled with tears, his voice barely a whisper. "I want to see her."
Before Finn could respond, a deafening crack of thunder erupted outside, shaking the window panes of Huldra House. Nathaniel let out a heart-wrenching scream, his body trembling violently.
The howling wind thrust forward, shattering the window and scattering shards of glass around the room. The unnerving shatter of glass seemed to freeze time for a split second. The storm's rage invaded the sanctuary of the room, and Nathaniel's mental clarity was ripped away, replaced by raw panic. As the wind whipped papers into the air from a nearby desk, his cries were swallowed up by the roar from outside.
"My pictures, my pictures!" Nathaniel cried, his voice cracking with distress
Amelia, always the quick thinker, moved swiftly to Nathaniel's side. She took his shaking hand in hers, gently drawing his focus to her. "Nathaniel, look at me," she urged, shouting over the gale. "Just breathe, okay? We'll breathe together!"
Nathaniel's terrified gaze locked onto Amelia's calm one. Inhaling deeply, she began counting out loud. "One... two... three..."
The room became a whirlwind of fluttering papers, some sticking to the wet floor, while others clung to the furniture. Finn, acting on pure instinct, lunged for an old, heavy dresser nearby, heaving it with all his might to barricade the broken window. The room once more became like a sealed tomb, separated from the calamity outside.
Amelia continued. With each count, Nathaniel's breathing began to synchronize with hers. The rhythmic counting acted as a lifeline, grounding him amid the chaos. The man's tremors slowly started to fade, and the panic in his eyes was gradually replaced by a vulnerable trust..
Breathing heavily, Finn knelt to gather the strewn drawings. The papers were covered with detailed sketches of Huldra House, each line meticulously drawn, showcasing Nathaniel's undeniable talent. But it was a peculiar drawing among the others that caught Finn's attention. It depicted a man, seemingly in a doctor's garb, standing ominously in front of Huldra House. His face was obscured by a shadow, but there was an air of sadness to the drawing that was unsettling.
Amelia, having managed to comfort Nathaniel somewhat, joined Finn and peered over his shoulder. "Who is that?" she whispered, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Finn shook his head, equally puzzled. "I'm not sure.”
Nathaniel, his eyes still filled with tears, looked towards the drawing Finn held. "He was from the island, he died a long time ago," he whispered. "Doctor Freeman. He lived here for a while when I was a child."
Finn, absorbing the new information, felt a strange sensation as if he was uncovering something he was supposed to. “But you've drawn him in a doctor's coat? Surely he wasn't wearing that around here very often? Wouldn't he have been in his normal clothes?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “He did wear the white coat a lot. He worked here. There was a fire, you see. The island used to have a small clinic hospital back then, we had to in case of emergencies, and there was no helicopter to the island. The clinic burned down, and so did several houses. It was terrible. Mother let the doctor and a nurse use parts of Huldra House that were unused as a temporary hospital for a while.”
Finn though things over for a moment, the wind outside, still rattling against the make-shift dresser barricade.
“Were there patients here?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Nathaniel. “Some of the people hurt in the fire. And there was one other patient. He was a young child who needed constant care.”
"Do you remember anything about this kid?" Finn probed gently, cautious not to overwhelm Nathaniel further.
Nathaniel took a deep breath, his pale fingers tightening around the bed sheet "I was young. But I remember... he was a bit older than me, always in bed, always looking out of the window. He had machines with him...beeping ones."
Amelia leaned in, her voice soft. "Did you ever speak to him?"
Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded. "A few times. He said he wished he could go outside, see the cliffs and the sea. But he was too sick."
Finn exhaled, wondering about the relevance of this memory. "Do you remember his name?"
Nathaniel seemed to search his memory, then finally whispered, "Jamie. His name was Jamie McCulloch."
“What happened to him?” Amelia asked.
“I... I don't want to talk about that,” Nathaniel stuttered.
“Why?” Amelia pushed.
“No... Please don't,” Nathaniel sobbed, suddenly his demeanor becoming more erratic once more.
There was a look on Nathaniel's face. A look that Finn had seen in so many expressions through the years. An expression of guilt. Finally, it started to make sense.
“Nathaniel,” Finn said, gently. “You did something to the boy, didn't you?”
"Don't make me, please," he said, shaking his head.
Finn took out his phone. He did a quick search for Jamie McCulloch and Huldra House, and there it was. An article in black and white. Finn skimmed it, the implications swirling around in his mind.
Suddenly, there was another sound of glass smashing somewhere down below. Somewhere within the countless rooms and hallways of Huldra House. Amelia looked at Finn nervously.
“The wind again?” She asked, but the fear creeping into her voice could not be hidden.
Then another smash of glass, and a loud clatter.
“We're being drawn out of here,” Finn said grimly. He turned to Nathaniel. “Nathaniel, it's going to be okay. Inspector Winters and I are going to go and investigate that sound. We'll lock the door behind us, and I want you to listen to me very carefully. Barricade your door and don't open it unless one of us comes to get you.”
Nathaniel shook his head, breathing heavily.
Amelia patted him on the hand. “We'll be right back, don't worry.”
But Nathaniel said nothing, he slid back beneath the covers.
Finn and Amelia left the room, locking the door behind them. Standing for a moment, Finn waited until he heard Nathaniel doing as he said and barricading his door. Turning, Finn saw the still hanging body of Lady Ferguson. It was a sin to leave her like that, but he knew that her killer was close and trying to entice them down into the darkness of Huldra House.
Now, Finn was finished with hiding in the shadows of the place. He turned to Amelia and whispered:
“He's here. He knows this place, so he has an advantage,” Finn said.
“What the hell is going on, Finn?” Amelia said, frustration clear in her voice. “Do you know who the killer is?”
“I do,” Finn said. “And that's what I'll use against him. Come on!”
They descended down the attic stairs, past Huldra House's dead host, and towards a head-on collision with a violent killer capable of anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Finn moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of Huldra House, Amelia shoulder to shoulder with him at each and every turn. The storm roared outside, causing the old building to groan in protest as though it were alive and trying to speak to them. The eerie whistle of the wind penetrated the walls, filling what should have been silence with a melancholy wail.
The occasional creak of the floorboards beneath their feet seemed thunderous in contrast. Amelia's eyes darted nervously around, taking in the dark corners and closed doors. The house felt different, menacing even, in the absence of Lady Ferguson.
"Over there," Amelia whispered, pointing towards a wet trail of footprints on the plush carpet. They were fresh, each print crisply outlined. The path they marked meandered unpredictably, as if the person making them was attempting to throw off any pursuers.
"Someone's definitely been here," she added, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Finn bent down, inspecting the footprint closely. He grimaced. "Not just someone. It's him. The killer."
Amelia's gaze shot up to meet Finn's, searching his eyes for clarity. "How can you be so sure? Explain."
Finn straightened up, looking around cautiously. "It'll take too long now, Amelia. Just trust me. We need to be careful, every step we take."
Amelia nodded, though she more unsettled than Finn had ever seen before. The two of them continued, following the trail, aware of the danger lurking in the shadows. The violent storm outside seemed to batter the house like a heavyweight boxer. With each passing moment, the storm was getting more intense, and Finn felt as if even Huldra House would not survive it.
Following the wet footprints, Amelia and Finn moved stealthily through the corridors of Huldra House. Every so often, the illumination from the occasional lightning flash painted fleeting, silvery images on the walls, like ghostly fingers crawling along the surface. The thunderous clap that followed each burst of light made even Finn jump at times.
Walking side by side, they made their way down a long, grand hallway adorned with portraits of the island's forebears. Suddenly, an unsettling noise reached their ears—a rumbling sound of stone grinding against stone, followed by a loud crash, as if a part of the old mansion was collapsing.
Amelia's eyes widened in alarm. "Did you hear that? Sounds like Huldra House is coming apart at the seams!"
Finn nodded gravely. "Maybe it should."
As they pressed on, they were caught off guard by the sound of shattering glass from a nearby room. Rushing towards the source, they found themselves in a large drawing room where a grand window had succumbed to the tempest outside. The relentless wind and rain swirled inside, soaking the carpet and sending curtains flying like phantom figures.
Finn pulled Amelia back, trying to shield her from the piercing wind and flying debris. "With this storm," he shouted above the roar, "it's near impossible to tell if a noise is nature's doing or the killer's."
Before Amelia could respond, a chilling laugh echoed through the hallway, a sound so dark and sinister that it sent shivers down Finn's spine. It wasn’t a spontaneous laughter, but calculated and maniacal, intending to instill terror.
Without exchanging words, both Finn and Amelia, driven by their duty, darted towards the eerie cackle. The dark corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in front of them, but they pressed on, racing against time and the elements, knowing that if they didn't stop the killer now, he would killer again, starting with poor Nathaniel.
Amelia's eyes widened when she seemed to spot a fleeting shadow moving past a doorway just behind Finn. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, chasing the elusive specter "Finn! There!" she cried out, pointing.
Startled, Finn quickly spun around to follow her. The atmospheric gloom of Huldra House seemed to thicken as they continued their pursuit, a murky mixture of murder and malice seething out of every blind corner and flapping curtain.
As they hastened, a loud flash of lightning striking the land outside the house, distracted them. And that was when he pounced. A set of shadowy hands reached out from another doorway, ensnaring Amelia and pulling her into the inky darkness within. The door slammed shut before Finn could act, and a heavy thud echoed through the corridor as something was wedged against it from the inside. Amelia's terrified scream penetrated the wood, filling Finn with raw, cold fear.
"Amelia!" he shouted, panic evident in his voice. Without a second thought, Finn began to violently ram his shoulder against the stubborn door, each impact sending sharp pains through his body. Again and again, he hurled himself against the wooden barrier, desperate to reach Amelia.
With a final, thunderous crash as loud as the storm outside, the door gave way. Finn's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, finally landing on Amelia's crumpled form on the cold stone floor. A thin trail of blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, her breathing labored and uneven.
Kneeling beside her, Finn cradled Amelia in his arms. "I'm here. You're safe," he whispered, his voice trembling.
She looked up at him, dazed but defiant. "I couldn't see his face. He wore a black hood... like the wraith."
Finn's brow furrowed in thought. "He's using the legend. Either he believes he's some kind of reincarnation of the wraith, or he's leveraging the islanders' fear of it to cloak his actions."
Amelia tried to stand, wobbling slightly. "We can't let him get away," she rasped before having to sit down again.
Finn's protective instincts flared. "I'm not leaving you."
With a weak smile and fire still in her eyes, Amelia responded, "You have to. He'll kill again. We can't let that happen. He left through that other door. I think it leads into another part of the house. I'll... I'll be fine. Please, Finn. Go!"
Their eyes locked for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Taking a deep breath, Finn gave Amelia a brief, reassuring squeeze and reluctantly charged back into the storm-ravaged halls of Huldra House, the echo of the killer's laughter still taunting him.
As Finn darted through the hallways of Huldra House, the world was deeply troubled outside, the wind now well and truly a hurricane. Thunder growled and the rain spat venomously, both elements acting as nature's symphony to Finn's desperate mission. Suddenly, the lights flickered erratically, casting eerie, shuddering shadows, before going out entirely. The only illumination now came from the intermittent flashes of lightning, capturing the mansion and its players like a flash bulb.
Finn continued on, the darkness failing to deter him. His ears perked up to the sound of the storm's fury being supplemented by the shattering of glass again. But this time, the force was undeniable. One by one, windows exploded inwards, blown in by the force of the gale outside. With every shattered pane, the storm's voice was given entrance, making the indoors almost as chaotic as the outside.
With every step, Finn felt the foundations of Huldra House quiver. The venerable structure, once an imposing monolith, now seemed frail and susceptible to nature's wrath. Finn almost implicitly felt that the house would falter without its Lady.
Suddenly, a dark silhouette came into view at the end of the hallway. The hooded figure stood still for a moment, an ominous presence framed by a burst of lightning, a pitch-black hood across his face. Recognizing his quarry, Finn, driven by anger and adrenaline, charged straight at him.
The two collided with a force that seemed to shake the very walls of the house. They grappled fiercely, fists flying, each trying to overpower the other. Finn could feel the grit and strength of a life spent on the sea in the man’s hands, but he was a son of the swamps and the New World, his own rage and desire to protect gave him an edge.
They rolled on the floor, wrestling, each landing blows. The killer managed to connect a solid punch to Finn's face, momentarily stunning him. But Finn retaliated by leveraging his body weight, flipping the hooded figure over, and pinning him to the ground. With swift hands, Finn reached out and yanked the black hood from the man’s head.
"Bruce?! Bruce McCulloch?" Finn said, already having surmised the truth. The face of the fisherman they'd met at the Fair Folk Inn stared back at him, sweat and desperation evident in his eyes.
Bruce's voice came out in panicked breaths. "You won't get out of here alive, yank. No one will!"
Finn's grip tightened with anger. "I know why you did it, but none of this will bring him back!"
But before Bruce could answer, a deafening crack resounded from outside. Both men turned their heads just in time to see a massive tree, uprooted by the storm, crashing towards Huldra House. The ensuing impact was colossal. The walls buckled, and the ceiling caved in, sending a deluge of debris, wood, and stone crashing down on the two adversaries. Something immensely heavy struck Finn across the chest and he fell. The world turned black and silent.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Everything swam before Finn's eyes, a disorienting blend of darkness, pain, and intermittent bursts of color. The pounding in his ears matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, slow and heavy. Each time he tried to pull himself to consciousness, the weight on his chest seemed to pull him under again, stopping him from getting a full breath. He felt like he was going to be crushed to death, one inhalation at a time.
He faintly registered the sound of hurried footsteps. A sense of urgency bubbled up in his semi-conscious mind. The killer! He was getting away! Pushing through the haze of pain, Finn became increasingly aware of the heavy beam pinning him down. With immense effort, he tried to push it off, but it barely budged.
Dizziness then took Finn again, and he felt like the world seemed strangely unreal.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light, brief yet intense, like an electric arc. As his vision adjusted, Finn saw several slender, pale hands, their fingers long and delicate, gripping the wooden beam. They seemed to glow faintly, and moved with a purpose, pulling at the beam in concert with his own efforts. With their help, the beam lifted and rolled to the side.
Shaken and gasping for breath, Finn pushed himself up, looking around desperately to thank his saviors. But the room was empty. No trace of the ethereal hands or their owners remained. The only evidence that they had ever been there was the now displaced beam and his own freedom. Finn didn't know if he could trust his own eyes anymore.
The room was in ruins. The collapsed ceiling and broken walls surrounded him, splintered to pieces by the old tree. But what drew Finn's attention was a massive gap in what used to be the outer wall. Through it, he could see the raging storm and the silhouette of the fleeing killer, heading straight for the cliffs at the edge of the property. The same cliffs that sat above where Ivar Ward's body had been so brutally chained days before.
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