“No, I am fine, I should be getting back to my companions. I need to digest what your spirits told me,” Helena rose and stepped towards the door before she forgot the one thing Sigmund asked her to do.
“Madame Griselda, why the construction on the house, does it honestly go on around-the-clock?”
“The Lady Chesterfield’s husband invented terrible weapons over the years, those weapons killed untold thousands of people. The Lady is haunted by the souls that died violently because of her husband. I had a vision, if the Lady had a home that was constantly under construction, the ghosts would never be able to find her. She sleeps in a different room every night. The construction will go on until the day she dies, or all those spirits become so lost they give up and haunt another building. The thing about spirits though, they never give up. Those thousands of souls will haunt this building and the land it stands on forever.”
“Did you ever think, she might obtain the same results if she built homes for the downtrodden,” Helena said before leaving the room.
Mister Wizard:
Helena left the house and did a double take toward the windows of the front parlor, they were indeed intact. She didn’t know what to think of that experience, her spirits lifted, she had some proof that she wasn’t wasting her time, Madame Griselda was pretty adamant that Missy still lived. She would need to think about the other things learned.
Helena gave the two men a wave as she hurried down the walkway towards Bessie. Both sat silent as Sigmund helped her into the back seat. Lane didn’t say a word, didn’t ask where they were going, he just knew they were going away from that unsettling house. After traveling a few blocks, Lane pulled Bessie to the side of the road, set the brake, and drew a small silver flask from an inner coat pocket. Sigmund did the same thing. If Helena had a silver flask, she would’ve as well. Instead, she just tapped Sigmund’s hand and took a sip of his.
“Did the two of you hear anything over the construction sounds?” Helena asked.
Both men shook their heads no.
“No glass shattering, no wood exploding, or no screaming voices?”
Again, both and shook their head no.
“There was no out of the ordinary sounds outside, but an unnatural feeling, a feeling of fear and dread washed over me. I hadn’t felt that way since before combat many decades ago. It’s a feeling I don’t care to ever feel again,” Sigmund watched his right hand holding the flask trying to steady a slight tremor.
“Where to now?” Lane asked his nerves calmer.
“I’m not sure. I know I’ve had enough of magic for today let’s go back to San Francisco. I’ll decide on a destination before we arrive,” Helena gave the flask back to Sigmund and settled into the seat.
Lane pulled Bessie out onto the road retracing their route. Sigmund sat on his side in quiet reflection. Helena’s mind raced.
What was that thing at the end? Helena thought: What did it mean death on white wings? Are birds going to start attacking people? Flocks flying out of the air picking the citizens of San Francisco’s eyes out? That seemed highly unlikely, too fantastical for modern times.
Helena closed her eyes trying to remember everything Madame Griselda said about Missy, the information didn’t do much good. San Francisco was surrounded by water on three sides, and she said somewhere dark. That contained too much area to search. She had to be missing something. Sick of magic for the time being, I need something more tangible, mechanical.
“Lane, take us to Professor Merryall. I need something concrete, besides I think he’s the smartest person I know,” Helena said, crossing her ankles.
Helena struggled with all the new information she had received. She spent the trip back to San Francisco rolling things over her in her mind, and nothing added up, there were too many missing pieces. She wanted to ask Sigmund, but, she was having severe concerns about where his loyalties lie. Lane seemed sweet enough but more of a mechanic than a great thinker. The only staff at the estate she ever spoke to was Miss Andrea, but Helena felt she held back only telling her half-truths or the bare minimum to placate her questions.
She had known Professor Webster Merryall for as long as she could remember, at least as long as Sigmund. Maybe she could get some straight answers from him. As a man of science, she hoped he wouldn’t let emotions deflect the truth.
The automobile pulled on to Howard Street, Lane blew the steam whistle at a roller door in a warehouse behind the Academy of Sciences building. Like magic, the door rolled open, Helena knew there was no magic here only science and mechanisms.
Bessie secured in the garage, the doors began closing of their own accord. Lane worked to shut down the boiler while Helena jumped out of the car to go find the professor.
Helena slowed her pace as she wove through the workshop awestruck, she spied gears, bobbles, thingamajig’s, and a few doohickeys, often times letting her fingers test the texture of items when she knew she wasn’t supposed to. A workshop was never a safe place to play with items if you didn’t grasp what they were.
She stopped before reaching the Professor, hearing his voice, but he wasn’t alone. Helena peeked from around a stack of unopened crates and spied the Professor and the insufferable Detective Doyle Longstreet having a private conversation. Not wanting to be rude, she almost turned away to let them finish in peace, but her attention was drawn back to the unbearable Doyle. His helmet removed left his hair disheveled, Helena had to admit it made him look kind of cute even
