“I was once young and handsome and favored by your love,” Arnold remembered.
“You are still loved. Please let me continue your life through Bridgeton.”
“No.”
“I can make you.”
“But you won’t because you love me, Miss Gee,” Arnold said softly, dropping his aging persona. The young man who so enjoyed her bed stood there. “I wish we could have had our own children. I would be more confident of my legacy if I knew Bridgeton shared our genes.”
“When Bridgeton takes over, you’ll have to disappear. Your body will start to naturally age again. I’ll have to restart the clock.”
“Then we should have fifty/sixty years ahead of us.”
“That’s not enough time,” Miss Gee protested.
“It will have to be. Maybe by the end, you’ll have found someone else to love.”
“Arnold, you know nothing of the demon heart. It’s every bit as fragile as a human heart, just thicker skinned.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Father Santos looked at the transparent men who stood above their graves. He could see the crosses they wore. Some were tucked under roughhewn shirts, others were displayed proudly on their chests.
“They died in their sleep,” Cid reminded Father Santos. “They woke into a nightmare. They spent days watching their bodies bloat on the cellar floor. Proud professional artisans reduced to this. No promised light, no salvation, and no last rites.”
“I can give them last rites,” Father Santos said. “But until we can unblock this house, the light isn’t coming for them.”
“We originally thought that the floor kept them here in the basement. We were wrong. It was the fear and pain of their essence being digested over and over again.”
“No wonder some of them lost their faith,” Father Simon said.
“Faith and hope are the only things that keep a person sane, Padre,” Jon said from behind them.
Father Santos looked up to see the lean Irishman staring down at them from the stairway.
“You must be Jon O’Connor,” Santos said.
“That I am. Blue Daniel is keeping an eye on things upstairs. We’re a bit worried Bridgeton has entered the house.”
“On it,” Jesse said, running up the stairs.
“I’d be tucking in your collars, and start acting more mason-like,” Jon advised.
One of the burly ghosts waved the priest over to the wall and ran his hand over the crack and coached them in Italian what to say.
Jesse skidded to a halt. Bridgeton Atwater was headed for the library. Since they had never conversed, Jesse decided to play dumb. “This is a closed construction site. Can I help you?”
Bridgeton looked at the handsome contractor. “Are you aware of who you are speaking to?”
“No, should I be?”
Bridgeton frowned.
“I’m Jesse Holden. I’m a contractor specializing in the structure of this home.”
“I’m the heir apparent, Bridgeton Atwater.”
Jesse extended his hand. He was surprised when it wasn’t taken. There was something odd about the man before him. He was stiff as if he was a new marionette with his strings too tight. That’s it, thought Jesse. Someone else is pulling his strings.
“Who’s in charge here?”
“That would be Wayne Shipley. I’ll go and fetch him.”
“Thank you. I’ll wait for him in the library.”
Jesse left, walked a few feet down the hall, and radioed Wayne. He then returned to find Bridgeton staring at the portrait.
“Ah, the patriarch of your family,” Jesse said, leaning against the door jamb.
“My great-granduncle,” Bridgeton acknowledged.
“You don’t look much like him,” Jesse said.
“It’s unfortunate.”
Jesse was surprised. “I think you’ve done quite well genetically.”
“That’s what my fiancée thinks,” Bridgeton said. “Why are you still here?”
“Wayne asked that I stay until he arrives, just in case you have any questions. Also, this is a haunted house. No one should move about by themselves.”
“I’ve never had any problem before.”
“Good for you. Personally, I’ve been attacked. My boss was possessed, and two of our contractors were held hostage for hours.”
“Where is your boss?”
“Meeting with Congressman Atwater,” Jesse said.
“Why?”
“Because the job is near completion. Unfortunately, we’ve found a problem with the foundation.”
“Why wasn’t I called?” Bridgeton demanded.
“That you will have to take up with Ms. Pickles,” Jesse said. “I just work here.”
“Why are you still here?”
“I thought we just went over this?” Jesse said, starting to suspect Bridgeton was either losing his nut or wanted him out of the room. “Ghosts. You can’t be alone in the house.”
Wayne walked into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were arriving so early.”
“I’ll leave the two of you to your business,” Jesse said and walked out of the room. He waited a moment, and when he heard business being conducted, he felt safe to leave the two of them alone.
“The priests have it in hand downstairs,” Cid told Jesse as he entered the kitchen. “Pete and I decided to give them some room.”
A crash followed by a thud echoed through the building.
“Wayne’s alone with Bridgeton in the library,” Jesse said running out the door.
Cid and Pete caught up to him. They took the stairs two at a time.
They found Wayne unconscious, lying on the library floor. His head was bleeding, but the man still lived. Salt and glass pieces were imbedded in the wound.
“He’s set August free,” Faye said.
“I’ll go warn the priests,” Pete said leaving the room.
Cid started to administer first aid. Jesse ran to the window to get better reception so he could call for an ambulance. He saw movement below. Bridgeton was walking outside with purposeful strides towards the lake without his coat on.
“Bridgeton is heading for the water. There’s no boat, just an iced-in dock.”
“The keys are gone,” Faye said looking into the open safe.
“Bridgeton is going to get rid of them!” Jesse said running out of the room.
“Jesse, we have a copy!” Cid called after him.
“We never tested them!” Jesse called back, reaching the
