When You're Close, page 9
He cleared his throat, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. "What are you doing here? I thought you were resting in your room."
Amelia raised an eyebrow, her smirk still in place. "I could ask you the same. Sneaking about in the dark, screaming at shadows."
Finn rolled his eyes. "I was... investigating. So, were you heading to Nathaniel's room too?"
Amelia's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Yes," she admitted. "I had a feeling he might know something, or maybe even have seen something. I thought I'd try my luck."
"Why didn't you wake me up? We could have gone together," Finn questioned.
Amelia hesitated for a moment before answering, "You're already under scrutiny back in the States. If something went awry here, I didn't want you caught up in more trouble. Especially not in the UK."
Finn looked at her, touched by her concern. "Thanks for looking out for me," he murmured.
She offered him a small smile. "Someone has to, especially with a shriek like that."
They stood there for a brief moment, looking at each other in the darkness. Then, Amelia broke the silence. "We should stick together now. Let's go see what Nathaniel knows."
The two detectives began to navigate through the dark, winding corridors of Huldra House once more, the storm outside lighting their way.
“I'd turn on a light, but I have no idea where Lady Ferguson sleeps,” Finn whispered. “And the last thing we need is for her to wake up and find us. That would be a call straight to the Home Office.”
Amelia's brow furrowed as she clearly tried to recall the layout of the house from earlier that day. "I think the entrance to the attic is down this corridor and to the left," she said, glancing at Finn.
As they moved quietly through the hallway, a mournful sound echoed through the walls. The distant wailing grew louder as they approached an old wooden door that stood slightly ajar. It sounded otherworldly, sending chills down both their spines.
“What the hell is that?” Amelia whispered.
Amelia's fingers instinctively wrapped around Finn's hand. Her grip was so tight that Finn could feel her pulse racing.
"I'd crack a joke about our current predicament," Finn whispered, trying to lighten the mood, "but that noise again... It's drained the humor from me."
“You have humor?” Amelia said, her voice wavering. “I could do with some of that.”
The wailing noise in the room before them sounded again, a higher pitched howl. It barely sounded human to Finn.
A cry went up somewhere else in the house further off as if in response. Finn knew it had to be Nathaniel. Amelia looked up to the ceiling as if tracing the origin of the noise with her eyes. It had come from the attic.
“If that was Nathaniel,” Finn whispered. “What the hell is in this room and making that other noise?
The thought of someone or something else wandering around the house in the dark did not sit well with him. It was times like that he wished he was allowed to carry his gun.
The wailing sound erupted again from beyond the door. Finn squeezed Amelia's hand and then let go, making sure he had both hands ready for whatever was there in the darkness.
They exchanged a look, nodding slightly to each other. Amelia drew a deep breath, and Finn squared his shoulders. Together, they pushed the door open.
The room was dimly lit by the occasional flash of lightning outside, and in that fleeting illumination, they saw curtains billowing in and out from a window left on its latch. The terrible wailing sound intensified, the wind from the storm outside whistling sharply through the small gap.
Finn moved quickly to the window, securing it and silencing the eerie howl. The room plunged into a quiet calm, save for the muted rumbling of thunder in the distance.
Amelia let out a shaky laugh. "We're really letting this place get to us. I don't think you can arrest a wailing sound," she mused, trying to bring some levity back into the atmosphere.
Finn chuckled, looking down and realizing Amelia was holding his hand again. He thought of Demi and a guilt built up inside of him. He stared at their intertwined fingers before releasing her hand. "Between shrieks and phantom wails, this night is turning out to be quite the party," he said with a smirk.
Amelia grinned, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. "Let's just hope the attic doesn't have any more surprises in store for us."
With a renewed sense of purpose and the previous tension dissipated, the duo continued their journey to uncover the mysteries of Huldra House.
Amelia's heels clicked softly on a wooden floor, the sound amplified in the haunting quiet of the house. "The house is like a maze," she murmured. "But this hallway... it seems familiar."
The faded wallpaper, darkened with age and embossed with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, seemed to guide them as they continued onward. A red carpet runner led to the foot of a staircase, the polished banister reflecting the ambient light from occasional lightning flashes.
They began to ascend, and as they climbed higher, an all too familiar sound wafted down to them. The heart-wrenching sobs they'd heard before filled the air once again, echoing throughout the corridors. Both detectives exchanged concerned glances, now certain of the source.
"It's Nathaniel," Amelia whispered, gripping the railing tightly.
With caution, they followed the sorrowful cries, each step bringing them closer to the heart of Huldra House's secretive son. Reaching the landing, the sobbing became clearer, more pronounced, emanating from a dimly lit hallway that led to another set of stairs.
Amelia hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the staircase ahead. "That leads to the attic," she confirmed, her voice quivering.
As they approached the attic staircase, the sobbing became louder and more desperate, each lament a testament to years of anguish. They found themselves at a heavy wooden door, worn by time, its paint chipped and faded. A rusty padlock hung from a latch, signifying the room's occupant was indeed confined.
Summoning his courage, Finn stepped forward and knocked gently on the door. The sobbing ceased almost instantly, replaced by a deathly silence. After what seemed like an eternity, a voice, shaky and timid, broke the stillness. "Please, let me out."
Amelia's sighed like her heart ached at the vulnerability in the voice. She stepped closer, asking, "Are you being held here against your will?"
A pause. "Yes."
Finn and Amelia exchanged a quick glance.
"We're duty-bound to ensure your well-being," Amelia whispered, her eyes searching the door as if willing it to unlock.
Feeling a surge of determination, Finn re-positioned himself. "Stand back from the door, Nathaniel. I'm going to try and break it down."
With a few steps back to gain momentum, Finn threw his shoulder against the door with all his might. Again and again, he rammed the door, but it stood firm, refusing to yield. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he sighed in frustration. He would have switched shoulders and tried again, but as if to remind him that he wasn't quite 100%, the other shoulder winced again.
"It's no use," he said, panting. "The door's too solid."
Amelia looked at him, worry evident in her eyes. But Finn's face held a spark of determination. "I have another idea," he declared.
Amelia's followed Finn through the winding passages of the old house. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the silent corridor, heightening the tension of the night. The furious storm outside, still trying to find a way inside.
After descending a spiral staircase, they found themselves in a dimly lit room directly beneath the attic. An ornate window framed by heavy velvet drapes was visible, partially obscured by the torrential rain beating against it.
"Here," said Finn, a glint of purpose in his eyes as he moved towards the window. He pushed it open, allowing the howling wind to rush in, carrying with it cold, sharp raindrops that stung his face.
Amelia moved closer, her eyes widening as she took in the sight below. "Finn," she warned, her voice full of concern, "it's too dangerous."
But Finn was already gauging the climb. He could see, the deadly drop to the ground below, and then turning, illuminated by the regular crashes of lightning, a series of stone gargoyles protruding from the building's facade. Each one had a grotesque face that almost mocked him.
Finn was not one to shirk a challenge.
"I think I can make it," he murmured, half to himself, "If I can get to that first gargoyle, I can use them as a makeshift ladder to reach the attic window above."
Amelia hesitated for a split second, biting her bottom lip, "I don't like it, Finn. What if you slip?"
But Finn was already out the window, feet planted on the narrow ledge. He glanced down, swallowing the fear that rose in his throat at the sheer drop below. Taking a deep breath, he made a leap for the first gargoyle, his fingers just catching its weathered surface.
Amelia watched from below as Finn began his treacherous ascent. Every movement seemed agonizingly slow for him, the storm and rain threatening to wrench him from the side of the house with each passing second. Lightning and thunder growled through the dark clouds above.
He had almost reached the attic window. Reaching out with his fingers, touching the stone sill, a particularly fierce gust of wind caught him off balance, and his foot slipped from its precarious perch. Finn's heart raced as he found himself dangling by one hand from the window sill, three stories above the ground. The cold stone, wet and slippery from the rain, provided little grip. He could feel his fingers beginning to cramp, the energy draining from him as he clung desperately to the ledge.
Amelia screamed from below, her voice barely audible above the roaring storm, "Finn, hold on!" Finn looked down and saw her clambering out of the window.
“No! Amelia!” he screamed.
But the relentless rain and the fatigue of the climb were taking their toll. Finn's grip was weakening, the ground below seemed so far away, and the weight of his body threatened to drag him into the abyss. And Amelia wasn't going to get there in time.
One by one, his fingers started to slip.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Finn gasped as the wind and rain battered against his face. His grip was now threadbare. He knew he was going to fall. Amelia was struggling below, trying to scale the first gargoyle to reach him, but she couldn't make it.
His only hope was that somehow he could grab another one of the gargoyles on the way down, but they were drenched in the rain and so even Finn's ever hopeful attitude was now all but extinguished.
His fingers, slick from the rain, were starting to lose their hold on the stone sill, his thoughts a frenzied blend of regret and determination. He had no idea how long he could hold on. With every passing second, his desperation grew.
Suddenly, a pale hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him upward. Shocked, Finn barely had time to register the face that leaned out from the attic window. Nathaniel Ferguson, with wide, haunted eyes and disheveled hair, had come to his rescue. He pulled with all his might, dragging Finn into the safety of the attic.
Finn's breath came in ragged gasps as he lay on the floor, momentarily stunned by his brush with death. "You... you saved my life," Finn panted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at his unexpected savior.
Nathaniel, however, looked petrified, backing away slowly until he reached a dim corner of the room. He wrapped himself in a tattered blanket that lay there, curling into a protective ball, eyes darting around as if anticipating some unseen threat.
Finn stuck his head out of the window and looked down. Amelia had seen what had happened and had climbed back into the window below. She was looking up. Finn gave her a thumbs up. She disappeared inside, no doubt rushing up to the other side of the attic door.
Finn turned and approached Nathaniel cautiously, instinctively understanding the need to be gentle.
"Hey, it's okay," he began, voice soothing. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"I know," Nathaniel whispered, his voice trembling. "I've seen you. Through the slits in the door."
"You have?" Finn asked, intrigued.
Nathaniel nodded. "Sometimes the staff talk to me, when Mother isn’t watching. They told me about the American detective and his friend."
"That's me," Finn said, trying to keep the conversation light. "My name is Finn."
"And Amelia," Nathaniel added.
"That's right," Finn replied, wondering how much the man before him knew. "Have they told you about the recent deaths on the island?"
Nathaniel's gaze darkened, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edges of his blanket. "Yes. Ivar Ward and... Lord Carmichael?"
"Exactly," Finn confirmed. He hesitated before pressing on. "Were you out two nights ago? The night Ivar Ward was killed?"
Nathaniel's eyes widened, and for a moment, Finn thought he saw a flicker of something. Guilt? Fear? "No," Nathaniel said quickly, too quickly. "I never leave during storms. I hate storms. Mother locks me in here because I had an accident once during them, but... It makes me worse."
There was a pause, Finn’s eyes narrowing, trying to decipher the layers of emotion behind Nathaniel's gaze. "Do you know anything about the victims? Anything that might help?"
Nathaniel hesitated, and then, with a vulnerability that made Finn's heart ache, he whispered, "Ivar Ward and Lord Carmichael knew each other."
Finn's heart raced. "How do you know that?"
Nathaniel looked away, shame evident in his downcast eyes. "I... I heard the servants talking about it. They said Ivar Ward used to work for Lord Carmichael years ago."
"When?" Finn asked, sensing the importance of the revelation.
Nathaniel's voice was barely audible above the storm outside. "I don't know, you'd need to ask the servants. Frederick might know."
A bright flash of lightning sounded, and a roar swept through the room. Outside, the lightning struck something nearby, throwing arcs of blue lights and sparks everywhere.
The flare of lightning cast a blinding light into the attic room, illuminating it in a ghastly glow for a brief moment. The ensuing deafening clap of thunder seemed to shake the very walls of Huldra House. The overwhelming sound sent Nathaniel into a fit of terror.
Nathaniel's wide eyes suddenly looked lost, the storm in his mind out of control. With a pained scream, he began to upend furniture, sending chairs and tables crashing against the walls. His frail body displayed an unexpected strength as his fear propelled him. With one last scream, he dove under the sheets of his bed, hiding from the world that was causing him so much distress.
“Nathaniel, it's okay...” His heart broke for him. “I... I'm going to get you out of here.”
Moments later, the sound of the attic door being unlocked reached his ears. He held his breath and looked around for somewhere to hide. His gaze fell upon a large, ornate standing mirror. He slipped behind it, hoping his impromptu hiding spot wouldn't betray him.
Hidden behind the ornate mirror, Finn could barely process the rapid turn of events. Heart racing, he listened intently for any sounds that might give away the arrival of others.
The door opened and someone stepped inside.
Lady Ferguson, her usually stern countenance replaced by one of sheer maternal concern, rushed into the room. "Nathaniel!" she called out, quickly making her way to the bed where her son was hiding.
Tenderly, she pulled back the sheets. "It's alright, my dear," she whispered, her fingers brushing his hair in a comforting gesture. "The storm will pass. Just like it always does."
Witnessing the scene, Finn felt like an unwelcome intruder. Lady Ferguson, the formidable matriarch of Huldra House, was momentarily transformed before his eyes, revealing a mother's undying love and concern for her child. It was a side of her he hadn't anticipated, and it made him question the assumptions he'd held.
Seizing the opportunity as Lady Ferguson moved to close the open window, Finn stealthily made his way out of the room and headed down the winding staircase, his feet barely making a sound on the old wooden steps.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost crashed straight into Amelia, who was making her way up. They both stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding a collision.
"Well, at least you didn't shriek this time," she joked, trying to relieve the tension of the night. “Please don't climb out of a window again.”
“Agreed,” Finn said, knowing how close he had come to a fatal fall. “Though, I'm sure you would have caught me.”
Amelia gave him a playful shove. "What did you find out?" she whispered urgently.
Finn took a deep breath. "Nathaniel is in a sorry state, but he did give me something. He said that he overheard the servants talking. Apparently, Ivar Ward and Lord Carmichael knew each other from years ago."
Amelia's eyes widened. "A connection between the victims? Brilliant! That's our lead. But right now, let's get out of here before Lady Ferguson runs into us. I just hope Nathaniel doesn't tell her you were there."
“I have a feeling he won't,” Finn said, thinking back to his promise that he would get Nathaniel out of there. There were so many possibilities running through Finn's mind. He worried that, should he release Nathaniel, that he might prove violent, perhaps even be the killer himself. Was there a good reason for Lady Ferguson keeping him locked up there in the first place?
They continued their way back to their rooms, their steps echoing in the dimly lit hallway. As Finn prepared to enter his room, he glanced over at Amelia, who was doing the same.
"Let's not go wandering around again tonight," she suggested, her tone half-serious.
"Couldn't agree more," Finn nodded. "Tomorrow, we'll chase down that lead. But for now, a good night's sleep sounds like a blessing."
Amelia nodded, "Good night, Finn."
"Good night, Amelia."
With that, Finn entered his room. He climbed into bed, wondering if he would hear a knock on his window again. Sleep did not come easy, and when it did, it was filled with visions of Nathaniel's locked room and a horrid face at the window.
CHAPTER TWELVE
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