Chapter VIII

She didn't realize how much exhaustion had taken over her until she lied down on the cold, stone floor of the crypt. Her eyes became heavy and once again she drifted off into deep sleep. The dreams started again. 

"Stop this right now! What are you doing?!"

"Changing things... to how it should be."

A sound of a knife, and something heavy falling with a thud on the ground. 

In the darkness, she ran, trying to follow the sounds and hoping it wasn't too late. It seemed as if she wasn't getting anywhere because only the void and silence surrounded her. Finally she saw it; a light, but very small and faint, at the end of the shadows, but the moment she reached it...

She had woken up in a cold sweat, the spirit of Lucas Royston looking at her with his ghostly hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he said, rather concerned. "You were thrashing and it seemed you were running."

"I..." she said, catching her breath. "Just a nightmare, it seems. Just a nightmare." 

"Take it easy." he said. "It is a cursed place, where you are right now. Do not let the nightmares cloud your judgement. Right now, you must find the truth, and with it, you find escape."

"But what about the rest of you?" she asked. "All the spirits here? Will you all be free if I find out what happened?" He smiled sadly.

"Alas, I'm not sure." he answered. "For as long as I've remembered, all of us have been bound to this house. Even Emile and Basil." 

"So that explains why Emile just pops in and out." she said. "How... did he die?" 

"It was...rather gruesome, but you'll have to find out for yourself." Lucas answered. "It's vital you discover it. Telling you wouldn't exactly solve our problems."

She remembered the old journal she picked up from Dorothy's room and showed it to him. "You know what this is?" 

"Hmm, I'm not sure." he said with a frown. "I must have died before I saw that. Would you mind opening it for me?"

She showed him the contents of the journal, and the name on it made him frown. "I see..." he said. "So she did keep a record, but I do not think she was able to write a lot..."

"You knew Dorothy?" 

"A bit, yes. I only ever saw her when she moved into the house, but that was the last time I ever saw her." 

She stood up and stretched. She felt a bit more refreshed after sleeping, and she noticed that the spirits were back once again, some watching her, while others were murmuring amongst themselves in that cold, raspy tone. 

"She looks so much like her..."

"It's just a coincidence..."

"Maybe it is her... but why would she be here?"

"Nonsense! She died already!"

"Just ignore them." Lucas said with an exasperated sigh. "They loved gossiping in life, and so in death, that habit never changes. Now, are you ready to see another very important memory?"

"Sure, but I do have another question." she said. "About Basil..." 

"Ah yes, the rather pessimistic brother of Emile." he said with a wry chuckle. "Basil is... faithful to Michael to a fault. Perhaps... you should see what I mean." 

He once again covered her eyes, and after a few seconds, she once again found herself in an echo of the past. This time, it was at the kitchen. A dark-haired man wearing a dirty white apron was busy stirring contents in several pots while calling out to another man who was kneading dough. 

- - -

"Hurry with that bread, Emile! Sadly this stew will take another ten minutes to cook altogether." 

"Right, brother. We're expecting quite a number of guests today." 

"Indeed. The Master's fiancée is moving in today, and her family's invited for lunch, so we have to prepare the best meal there is." 

- - -

"Emile and Basil... they were preparing for Dorothy's arrival..." 

"Yes. As you can see, they're both quite faithful to the Royston family and have served us for the longest time. Emile was always kind and reasonable, but Basil... oh well." 

- - -

"This is a pain." Basil said as he put more vegetables in the boiling pot. "Had we not been expecting guests today, I'd just be tending to the vegetable garden!"

"Brother please, the Master is quite fond of her. We should give her nothing but the best."

"What does the Master see in her anyway? I heard she's just lower nobility. Who can even confirm whether she's nobility or not? She must be one of those harlots ---" 

"Brother, that is enough!" Emile said, aghast at his brother's words. "None of us have the right to say that, and shamee on you for even thinking about her that way." Basil merely muttered something under his breath as he finally turned off the fire, indicating that the stew was ready. He prided himself on being a cook for the high-class folks of Edessa, the country where the Roystons came from, and to serve someone whom he didn't even know, and was most likely of a lower class than the family he served, somewhat irked him. 

A few moments later, the two brothers heard the chatter of people coming into the dining room. 

"It's so beautiful here! It's so spacious, too!" 

"Well obviously, I mean... they're the richest people around here. It's amazing!" 

"Watch yourselves, we are guests. It would be rude to oggle around. Remember what Mother said." 

"Looks like they're here." Basil said with a sigh. 

"Remember, put your best foot forward, brother. We don't want the master to look bad." 

"Yes yes, I'll keep my mouth shut, then." 

- - -

Once again the memory abruptly ended, and Lucas seemed even more exhausted. 

"I think I've seen enough memories!" she said, gravely concerned at the spectre's condition. "I can go out there and just figure it all out." 

"There's... one more... you need to see." the younger Royston brother said as he sat on the ground. "The most important one that can help you."

"Are you sure? You're... fading." she said, noticing that he was becoming less and less visible. 

"Before I fade, I need you to know what has happened here. Hopefully it puts our souls to rest." he answered. 

She looked worried for the spirit's well-being, but he was insistent. From the way it looked, their souls had been trapped in the mansion for a long time, shackled by whatever dark forces were present. 

"This mansion... is gripped by a malevolent force." he began. "You must know... you must break it. Put us to rest, and get yourself to safety." 

- - -

The surroundings changed once again, but this time it seemed to be in a basement of sorts. It was pretty dimly lit, thanks to the candles scattered in the area. She couldn't tell how large the room was, but that wasn't the issue, for that familiar smell of rotting flesh and blood assailed her nose, making her stumble back slightly. 

Drip, drip, drip... There was something dripping from the ceiling, and when she looked up, the liquid hit her face. It was warm, smelled sort of metallic, and when she touched to find out, she was horrified to find out that it was blood. There was more dripping, and as she walked forward amidst the shadows, she felt her feet sink in to what she thought was a puddle of blood. 

Slowly, the light grew, revealing puddles of blood all over the stone floor, and hanging from the ceiling were dead bodies, some fresh, others rotten. They were all wrapped in dirty white blankets, and on the ground was a large circle of blood adorned with strange writing, and in the middle of it was another body wrapped in the same dirty white blanket. 

"What the... what is all this?" she asked, shocked and terrified at the sight of the grisly occult ritual. 

"It was... a necessary sacrifice, my dear." She turned back, and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was the handsome, sadistic face of Michael.

 "They cannot save you now."