Angel - Grange Hall Mystery.
By Allyson.
Disclaimer - Joss Whedon owns all rights to Angel and its characters - not me unfortunately.
It had all started with an ominous message left on the answer machine one day when the trio wasn't in to hear. It had sounded like a young girl sobbing into the phone, surrounded with strange screeching and muffled sounds in the background.
"Help me! Please . . . you've got to help me or I'll die. Come to Grange Hall, quick. Please? Can you help me?"
With that the line had gone dead. She left no name or a contact number, just the name of a house. It unsettled Angel; the distress in her voice called out to him. After searching through the local directory, Cordelia found the only Grange Hall in the book, on the other side of LA. It had turned out to be a guesthouse that catered for murder-mystery weekends. The owner, Mrs. Lawds, wouldn't confirm any disturbances at the house and so Cordelia was forced to book a hotel room there so that they could investigate the phone call.
Packing up Angel's car they drove over to Grange Hall. Angel had come up with a plan that had Doyle and Cordelia pose as a couple so that they could join in with the murder-mystery weekend. The three of them going in together would have created too many questions, so Angel was going to slip in unnoticed and hide out in their guestroom undetected. That way, he insisted, he could snoop around for more clues about the phone call without creating a disturbance. Cordelia hated the plan from the beginning and still hated it as they pulled up outside the towering Grange Hall in all its imposing splendor.
They were shown immediately to their room by the strict Mrs. Lawds, with specific instructions to be at dinner for 7pm. She left leaving Cordelia and Doyle staring at an old fashioned four poster bed with red curtains. They looked at one another, both uncomfortable with the situation.
"I'll take the bed," Cordelia announced, after a moment, lifting her carry case onto the covers. "That's okay, right?"
"Yeah, sure," murmured Doyle, seeing the steely glare she gave him. "I'll be okay on the couch."
He threw his small bag onto the red plush couch that faced the bed and looked around their room. Besides the four poster bed and the small couch, there was also a matching chair, side table, a walk-in wardrobe and tea/coffee facilities. Everything was in the same gothic design with plush red velvet to contrast. A door lead to an en-suite bathroom that looked far too modern compared to the rest of the house. The whole place put Doyle ill at ease, knowing only part of it was because of Cordelia's presence with him.
There came a knocking at the window, startling Cordelia from her unpacking. Cautiously, she pulled the curtain back and sighed in relief when she saw Angel staring back at her, from where he sat on a tree limb.
"You almost gave me a heart attack!" accused Cordelia, opening the window. "Next time give me a warning."
"I thought that was what I did when I knocked," replied Angel.
"You have a lot to learn about the still living," Cordelia responded with a glare, before turning away.
Angel cleared his throat. "Err . . . Cordelia?"
"What?" she turned sharply towards him. Angel gestured towards the window. Cordelia's face softened as realization set in. "Oh, yeah, I forgot," she replied. "Come in, but don't tread dirt all over the carpet."
She went back to her unpacking while Angel clambered inside, closing the windows and curtains behind him.
"Nice room," Angel commented, giving the room a quick glance over.
"Hmmm," agreed Doyle, less than half-heartedly.
Angel turned to find Doyle looking at the walk-in wardrobe in fascination. He was ideally trailing one hand over the intricate designs inset into the wood. Angel went to stand by him to have a look at it. To Angel it just looked like a carved wooden door on a wardrobe with pretty floral pictures.
"Doyle?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
Doyle managed to pull his eyes away from the closet to frown at Angel in confusion and doubt. "I just had the strangest feeling . . ." replied Doyle. "Something's not right here. Everything's wrong."
"Did you have a vision from the Powers That Be?"
"No," responded Doyle, shaking his head. "I would have remembered the pain- splitting headache that comes with it."
Cordelia had paused in the action of sorting out her make-up and looked at the two men, suspiciously. "What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you stressing over a closet?"
Doyle looked at her and then back at Angel. "I can't explain it but I've got this bad feeling in my gut that . . ." Doyle's voice trailed off and his stare returned back to the wardrobe. He reached out and took hold of the handle. There was a click and the door swung open on its own accord. Doyle made to enter the wardrobe when Angel put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Doyle? What are you doing?"
Doyle didn't reply. It was then that Angel saw Doyle's slack expression and glazed eyes. He let go of him.
"Is this some sort of side effect from his link with the PTB?" asked Cordelia, walking over to them.
"Come on," said Angel, taking her hand, ignoring her quip.
"What?" demanded Cordelia. "Where?"
Angel didn't reply as he followed Doyle into the wardrobe, leading a confused Cordelia behind him.
"Hey! No way!" Protested Cordelia. "You have got be kidding me! I'm not getting into a closet with you two; that's taking working relationships to an all time low."
She was surprised then when she didn't thump into a wardrobe wall or trip over Angel's heels. It was too dark to see but as Angel lead her forwards she got the feeling they had entered a secret tunnel that was getting further into the house. After a few moments of walking, Cordelia could just make out a dim light coming from up ahead. It silhouetted Doyle and Angel, somehow giving Cordelia comfort. A light meant an exit and an exit meant a way out from this dingy tunnel.
Blinking to adjust to the sudden light, Angel and Cordelia found themselves emerging from another wardrobe into another room. It looked like a two- story library with more books than Cordelia had seen in her lifetime. An open fire was blazing away, warming up the room. The only furniture in the room was a long table on one side and two big armchairs and a side table containing a decanter of whisky sat in front of the hearth. A rickety ladder lead up to more tightly packed bookcases. The only way in and out of the room, besides the hidden tunnel, was a door on the top level. Otherwise the room was empty.
"Wow," murmured Cordelia, in awe. "They really are trying to keep up with the whole creepiness of the house."
In front of them, Doyle turned at her voice. He looked confused and bewildered but Angel saw that his eyes had regained focus. "Where are we? How did we get here?"
"You brought us here," Angel replied. "Don't you remember?"
"No," frowned Doyle. "One minute I was staring at the wardrobe in our room, the next minute I'm standing here."
"Creepy," commented Cordelia, as her attention was distracted elsewhere. She found herself inexplicably drawn towards a crystal sphere sitting on the mantelpiece. The light from the wall mounted lamps refracted rainbows around the sphere, making it appear almost mystical. "Oh my . . . have you ever seen anything so beautiful before?"
Doyle and Angel turned from their discussion to see what she was talking about. Tentatively, Cordelia reached out to touch the orb when an unfamiliar voice stopped her.
"Don't touch that. You're not supposed to be in here."
Cordelia looked up startled and found Mrs. Lawds staring down her nose at her from the upper level, the door still closed behind her.
"I'm sorry," replied Cordelia, feeling like a naughty child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "It was just so beautiful and we didn't -"
"We?" interrupted Mrs. Lawds.
Doyle stepped into view while Angel stayed hidden from sight. Mrs. Lawds turned her steely gaze towards the half-demon. "We didn't realize this room was off limits," Doyle apologized, reaching over and taking Cordelia's hand in his and pulling her towards the stairs. "We were just leaving in fact."
Mrs. Lawds watched both of them closely as they made their way up the ladder and then escorted them out of the room. Cordelia and Doyle watched as the old lady made a display of locking the library before turning back to them.
"Dinner is at 7 o'clock," she told them, promptly. "Please see that you're on time. Stay to your room or the dining hall until that time."
With a prim nod she swished down the corridor towards the stairs, leaving Doyle and Cordelia lost in a maze of unfamiliar corridors and rooms. * * * * It took almost over an hour of exploring the huge mansion to find their way back to their guestroom again. When they finally entered the room they found Angel sitting in the hard back red velvet chair thumbing through a leather bound book. He didn't seem surprised at their extended absence.
"You're back," was all he said.
"What are you reading?" asked Doyle, curiously.
"Family history of the Grange Hall residence," he replied, not looking up from his page. "I think I know what's going on around here and why we were asked to help a girl that we haven't actually met yet. Dating back to the 1900's there have been many cases of suicide and foul play. It all started with the original owner's daughter, Sarah Grange. She made a lover's pact with their young gardener, Thomas O'Hardy, that they would always stay together. When her father found out about them he sent Sarah away to live with an Aunt and banished Thomas from the house. The night before Sarah was due to leave, the housekeeper found both Sarah and Thomas's bodies in the library. Both had died from massive overdoses of rat poison."
"How terrible," murmured Cordelia. "And gross. Rat poison - eeww!"
"Lovers pact turns into suicide, got it," summarized Doyle. "But how do we fit into this?"
Angel placed the book down and looked thoughtful. "I think the ghosts of Sarah Grange and Thomas O'Hardy are reenacting their last night together. They died unhappily, chances are they never completely passed over to the other side," he said.
"Why does it have to be supernatural?" asked Cordelia. "It could be a coincidence all these murders and suicides. Had it ever occurred to you that it was probably some eccentric murderer in this area?"
"I hope not," replied Angel. "I only kill demons."
"Assuming you're right about these ghosts," Doyle said. "When do you think they'll try to stage another bloodbath again?"
"Tonight," replied Angel. "Today's when the accident actually happened according to this book."
"Great," muttered Cordelia, unenthusiastically.
"When you go down to dinner, make sure all the other guests don't stray out of your sight," Angel instructed, standing up and heading for the door. "I'll be nearby. I'm going to look around for anything suspicious." He left the room so Cordelia and Doyle could change for dinner.
* * * * Cordelia tried not to let her jaw hang open in amazement when she stepped out of the en-suite bathroom. Doyle stood near the couch wearing a clean black evening suit and white shirt; looking a lot more handsome than what she had given him credit for. The suit had to have been borrowed from Angel, Cordelia convinced herself. He hadn't heard her enter the room she realized as he cursed silently to himself as he finally mastered knotting his tie. Cordelia caught herself staring and cleared her throat, embarrassed. Doyle looked up startled and his eyes widened when he saw Cordelia.
"You look amazing," he told her, sincerely.
"Thanks," Cordelia replied, glancing down at her knee length black halter- necked dress. "You don't look so bad yourself."
"You think so?" Asked Doyle, hopefully.
Cordelia nodded as she picked up her purse. "Come on," she said. "We can't look suspicious being late for dinner."
With that she took Doyle's arm and lead the way out of the room and down to the huge dining room. They realized on entering that they were alone. There were no other guests to be seen. The long oak dining table had only two places set as well. Doyle and Cordelia looked at one another both confused and wary.
"Where is everyone?" asked Cordelia. "We can't be the only two guests here, can we?"
Doyle shrugged his shoulders as he surveyed the room. "Maybe Mrs. Lawds could tell us?" he suggested.
Behind them they heard the door close and then a key turning in the lock. Cordelia moved to the door, trying to open it.
"Hey!" she called out, banging on the door. "Open up. There's people in here!"
Doyle rattled the handle too but knew it was futile.
"It's for your own good," came Mrs. Lawds voice from the other side of the door. "I don't mean to harm you but you must stay in here until tomorrow."
They heard her footsteps echoing down the corridor away from them.
"Tomorrow!?" exclaimed Cordelia, indignantly. "I'm not sleeping in here with Doyle!"
"Hey!" protested Doyle, looking hurt.
"You know I didn't mean it like that, Doyle," responded Cordelia, moving away from the door in frustration.
"What was that?" asked Doyle, suddenly.
"I said I didn't -"
"No, no, not like that," interrupted Doyle. "That noise. A scratching sort of sound."
She froze on the spot, listening. When at first she couldn't hear anything she turned to snap at Doyle, when suddenly she heard it. Slowly, she turned towards the sound. It was coming from behind a wall.
"Doyle?" she murmured, as the noise became louder.
Instinctively, Doyle moved to stand in front of Cordelia in an effort to shield her from harm. He reached to grab a weapon and ended up holding a fork. He almost laughed at the irony of it.
Without another warning a section of the wall slid away partially and a figure was silhouetted in the entrance. It was Angel. Doyle and Cordelia let out relieved sighs before turning on him.
"Angel, man, you almost put me into an early grave," said Doyle, putting the fork back down onto the table.
"Haven't you heard of using a door?" accused Cordelia. "Last time I checked it was still the most popular way of entering a room."
"Sorry," apologized Angel, though he looked a little puzzled at the fuss they were making. "I found a new secret passageway." He looked at the table. "Am I interrupting something special? I thought you two were dining with the other guests?"
"We were but it turns out we are the only guests here," replied Cordelia. "And then that creepy Mrs. Lawds locked us in here so we'd be safe."
"Safe?" repeated Angel, with a frown.
"She didn't say what from," replied Doyle.
"I think she's going senile," added Cordelia.
"Let's go," said Angel. "We need to speak to Mrs. Lawds - I think she's connected to all this somehow."
Cordelia made a move to enter the hidden passageway when Angel grabbed her hand to stop her.
"Maybe I should lead," he suggested. "I've got better night vision than you and I have a better knowledge of the layout now. Grab hold of Doyle and follow me."
"Fine," huffed Cordelia, grabbing hold of Doyle's hand and following Angel through the wall.
* * * * The tunnel led them down to the library again, this time through a concealed doorway in one of the bookcases. As it sealed up behind them, Cordelia shook off Angel's and Doyle's grip. Her attention was once again drawn towards the crystalline globe sitting on the fireplace mantle.
"What now?" Doyle asked Angel, watching as Cordelia walked passed him.
"Explain to me again what happened when you went down for dinner," replied Angel.
While Angel and Doyle talked, Cordelia had made her way to the fireplace. After studying the orb in fascination, she reached out a tentative hand to touch it. As her fingers touched the cool surface, she was unaware of the brighter glow it began to emanate. She was also unaware of Angel and Doyle's conversation and even less aware of them approaching her and calling her name. She only became alert when Doyle shook her gently by the shoulders.
"Take your hands off me."
Doyle's eyes widened in shock. Not at Cordelia's words but at the tone of her voice. That oddly lilting voice wasn't Cordelia, it was someone else. "Cordy?"
Cordelia pushed him away roughly. "This isn't fair! Why are you doing this to me? I thought I meant something to you."
Doyle looked at her disconcerted. "What?"
"Doyle, that's not Cordelia," warned Angel, in understanding. "She's Sarah Grange now. The lovers pact, remember?"
"But there's no Thomas O'Hardy," began Doyle, before suddenly stopping. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Cordelia and his posture went rigid.
"Hello, Thomas," murmured Angel, under his breath. He stepped backwards a little and watched his two friends carefully.
"How can you say that?" demanded Doyle to Cordelia, his accent becoming broader. "I gave you everything I could. I would have married you."
"How can you marry me if you're not with me?" Cordelia demanded.
"We've talked about this before, Sarah," Doyle replied, exasperated. "I cannot and will not enrage your Father anymore than we have already done so. If he found out I'd followed you to your Aunt's house, he could separate us forever."
"But I want you with me now!" protested Cordelia, tears coming to her eyes.
"Just wait five more years until you are of age," Doyle tried to reason. "Then I will come for you, with money and a house."
"No," replied Cordelia, striding over to the small side table and opened a drawer. She took out a small pistol; shiny, modern and fully loaded.
"Cordelia! No!" Angel called out in warning, stepping forwards to stop her. He was stopped by a strong grip on his arm. Looking around in surprise, he found it was Mrs. Lawds who restrained him. How had she gotten in without being seen or heard?
"I will not wait five years," continued Cordelia, oblivious to Angel's interruption. "I cannot wait another five minutes."
"Let go of me," demanded Angel to the landlady. "I have to stop her. They're my friends and I won't let them die while they're possessed by ghosts."
"You cannot interfere now," Mrs. Lawds responded, sternly. "They had their chance to escape this path and they chose to ignore my warning instead. Once begun it will not stop."
Cordelia aimed the gun at Doyle, who was just standing still in front of her, watching in sympathy.
"You don't want to do this, Sarah," he murmured.
"I'm sorry, Tom," she replied, tears freely falling now. "But if I can't have you no-one else can. This is for the best. I promise."
With that she fired. Doyle grunted in pain and jolted to his knees. "Sarah!" he managed to say in shock, before crumpling into a heap on the floor.
"Doyle!" shouted out Angel, pulling against Mrs. Lawds iron grip. Panic coursed through him as he watched a sobbing Cordelia bring the gun shakily to her own head, ready to fire. Behind her, the crystalline globe shone out radiantly, surrounding her with a rainbow of bright colours.
"NO!" Angel cried out, anxiously. Spinning, he threw a right hook at Mrs. Lawds, both loosening her grip and sending her to the floor. He lunged towards Cordelia and knocked her off her feet. As they rolled to the floor, the gun went off wildly, shooting a bullet through the magical orb and shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. A flash of light lit up the room and Mrs. Lawds let out a scream of terror.
From his vantage pint next to Cordelia, Angel watched as the pale ghostly forms of Sarah Grange and Thomas O'Hardy left the bodies of his two friends and embraced in front of him. They then took a hold of the struggling Mrs. Lawds between them. They turned as one towards Angel and a decidedly groggy Cordelia.
"Thank you for freeing us," Sarah's ghost thanked with a happy smile. "I knew you could do it. We are forever in your debt."
"Just doing our job," replied Angel, modestly. "What about Mrs. Lawds? She's a ghost too?"
Thomas nodded. "Mrs. Lawds was the person responsible for our tragic deaths. She told Mr. Grange about Sarah's love for me and helped to get the rat poison to kill us. She killed herself not long afterwards and her guilt has continued this bloodshed. Until now."
"She will be punished," added Sarah. "Fairly. And it's all thanks to you and your friends. Luck be with you, Angel."
The three ghosts shimmered out of existence before Angel could respond back. After a stunned moment of silence, Angel clambered to his feet and then helped Cordelia up. She was unsteady but otherwise okay.
"Are you alright?" Angel checked.
Cordelia nodded. "Just a huge embarrassment factor that's all. I'll be fine."
Angel nodded in relief before rushing over to where Doyle lay. Cordelia crouched down next to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Oh my god," she murmured, in distress. "What did I do? I didn't mean to hurt him, Angel, I swear."
"I know, Cordelia," soothed Angel, kindly, as he moved Doyle's head to one side to check his pulse. "You were possessed, it wasn't you. I can't see or smell any blood."
"Does that mean I missed?" asked Cordelia, hopefully.
Angel shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know. I saw him fall under the shot."
Doyle shifted suddenly causing Angel and Cordelia to draw back slightly in surprise. He took a short ragged breath before slowly opening his eyes. He groaned in agony before smiling up at his two closest friends. "Hey," he greeted, eyes sparkling once again.
"You're not dead?" asked Cordelia, worriedly.
"Err . . . I don't think so," responded Doyle. "Is that a problem, Princess?"
Cordelia just smiled warmly at him in response.
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Angel, concerned, helping to steady Doyle as he struggled to sit up. "I saw you get shot but I can't see any blood or a wound . . ."
Doyle frowned and began to pat his jacket and shirt repeatedly. He fished into his inside jacket pocket and brought out a stake. It was buckled halfway with a bullet lodged within it. He brought it up to eye level and looked at it in amazement. If that hadn't been there he would probably be dead now.
"Angel's suit, eh?" commented Cordelia, knowingly. "Lucky you."
"Thanks man," replied Doyle, in relief. "I owe you one."
"Don't thank me, Doyle," responded Angel, with a half-smile. "I forgot I'd left that in there."
Doyle didn't know how to respond to that.
"Come on," urged Cordelia, as Angel helped Doyle to his feet. "The sooner we get out of this creepy house the better."
Both men nodded in agreement and followed Cordelia out of the library. After collecting their belongings, they piled into Angel's car and left Grange Hall behind them, quiet and empty at last.
THE END.
By Allyson.
Disclaimer - Joss Whedon owns all rights to Angel and its characters - not me unfortunately.
It had all started with an ominous message left on the answer machine one day when the trio wasn't in to hear. It had sounded like a young girl sobbing into the phone, surrounded with strange screeching and muffled sounds in the background.
"Help me! Please . . . you've got to help me or I'll die. Come to Grange Hall, quick. Please? Can you help me?"
With that the line had gone dead. She left no name or a contact number, just the name of a house. It unsettled Angel; the distress in her voice called out to him. After searching through the local directory, Cordelia found the only Grange Hall in the book, on the other side of LA. It had turned out to be a guesthouse that catered for murder-mystery weekends. The owner, Mrs. Lawds, wouldn't confirm any disturbances at the house and so Cordelia was forced to book a hotel room there so that they could investigate the phone call.
Packing up Angel's car they drove over to Grange Hall. Angel had come up with a plan that had Doyle and Cordelia pose as a couple so that they could join in with the murder-mystery weekend. The three of them going in together would have created too many questions, so Angel was going to slip in unnoticed and hide out in their guestroom undetected. That way, he insisted, he could snoop around for more clues about the phone call without creating a disturbance. Cordelia hated the plan from the beginning and still hated it as they pulled up outside the towering Grange Hall in all its imposing splendor.
They were shown immediately to their room by the strict Mrs. Lawds, with specific instructions to be at dinner for 7pm. She left leaving Cordelia and Doyle staring at an old fashioned four poster bed with red curtains. They looked at one another, both uncomfortable with the situation.
"I'll take the bed," Cordelia announced, after a moment, lifting her carry case onto the covers. "That's okay, right?"
"Yeah, sure," murmured Doyle, seeing the steely glare she gave him. "I'll be okay on the couch."
He threw his small bag onto the red plush couch that faced the bed and looked around their room. Besides the four poster bed and the small couch, there was also a matching chair, side table, a walk-in wardrobe and tea/coffee facilities. Everything was in the same gothic design with plush red velvet to contrast. A door lead to an en-suite bathroom that looked far too modern compared to the rest of the house. The whole place put Doyle ill at ease, knowing only part of it was because of Cordelia's presence with him.
There came a knocking at the window, startling Cordelia from her unpacking. Cautiously, she pulled the curtain back and sighed in relief when she saw Angel staring back at her, from where he sat on a tree limb.
"You almost gave me a heart attack!" accused Cordelia, opening the window. "Next time give me a warning."
"I thought that was what I did when I knocked," replied Angel.
"You have a lot to learn about the still living," Cordelia responded with a glare, before turning away.
Angel cleared his throat. "Err . . . Cordelia?"
"What?" she turned sharply towards him. Angel gestured towards the window. Cordelia's face softened as realization set in. "Oh, yeah, I forgot," she replied. "Come in, but don't tread dirt all over the carpet."
She went back to her unpacking while Angel clambered inside, closing the windows and curtains behind him.
"Nice room," Angel commented, giving the room a quick glance over.
"Hmmm," agreed Doyle, less than half-heartedly.
Angel turned to find Doyle looking at the walk-in wardrobe in fascination. He was ideally trailing one hand over the intricate designs inset into the wood. Angel went to stand by him to have a look at it. To Angel it just looked like a carved wooden door on a wardrobe with pretty floral pictures.
"Doyle?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
Doyle managed to pull his eyes away from the closet to frown at Angel in confusion and doubt. "I just had the strangest feeling . . ." replied Doyle. "Something's not right here. Everything's wrong."
"Did you have a vision from the Powers That Be?"
"No," responded Doyle, shaking his head. "I would have remembered the pain- splitting headache that comes with it."
Cordelia had paused in the action of sorting out her make-up and looked at the two men, suspiciously. "What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you stressing over a closet?"
Doyle looked at her and then back at Angel. "I can't explain it but I've got this bad feeling in my gut that . . ." Doyle's voice trailed off and his stare returned back to the wardrobe. He reached out and took hold of the handle. There was a click and the door swung open on its own accord. Doyle made to enter the wardrobe when Angel put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Doyle? What are you doing?"
Doyle didn't reply. It was then that Angel saw Doyle's slack expression and glazed eyes. He let go of him.
"Is this some sort of side effect from his link with the PTB?" asked Cordelia, walking over to them.
"Come on," said Angel, taking her hand, ignoring her quip.
"What?" demanded Cordelia. "Where?"
Angel didn't reply as he followed Doyle into the wardrobe, leading a confused Cordelia behind him.
"Hey! No way!" Protested Cordelia. "You have got be kidding me! I'm not getting into a closet with you two; that's taking working relationships to an all time low."
She was surprised then when she didn't thump into a wardrobe wall or trip over Angel's heels. It was too dark to see but as Angel lead her forwards she got the feeling they had entered a secret tunnel that was getting further into the house. After a few moments of walking, Cordelia could just make out a dim light coming from up ahead. It silhouetted Doyle and Angel, somehow giving Cordelia comfort. A light meant an exit and an exit meant a way out from this dingy tunnel.
Blinking to adjust to the sudden light, Angel and Cordelia found themselves emerging from another wardrobe into another room. It looked like a two- story library with more books than Cordelia had seen in her lifetime. An open fire was blazing away, warming up the room. The only furniture in the room was a long table on one side and two big armchairs and a side table containing a decanter of whisky sat in front of the hearth. A rickety ladder lead up to more tightly packed bookcases. The only way in and out of the room, besides the hidden tunnel, was a door on the top level. Otherwise the room was empty.
"Wow," murmured Cordelia, in awe. "They really are trying to keep up with the whole creepiness of the house."
In front of them, Doyle turned at her voice. He looked confused and bewildered but Angel saw that his eyes had regained focus. "Where are we? How did we get here?"
"You brought us here," Angel replied. "Don't you remember?"
"No," frowned Doyle. "One minute I was staring at the wardrobe in our room, the next minute I'm standing here."
"Creepy," commented Cordelia, as her attention was distracted elsewhere. She found herself inexplicably drawn towards a crystal sphere sitting on the mantelpiece. The light from the wall mounted lamps refracted rainbows around the sphere, making it appear almost mystical. "Oh my . . . have you ever seen anything so beautiful before?"
Doyle and Angel turned from their discussion to see what she was talking about. Tentatively, Cordelia reached out to touch the orb when an unfamiliar voice stopped her.
"Don't touch that. You're not supposed to be in here."
Cordelia looked up startled and found Mrs. Lawds staring down her nose at her from the upper level, the door still closed behind her.
"I'm sorry," replied Cordelia, feeling like a naughty child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "It was just so beautiful and we didn't -"
"We?" interrupted Mrs. Lawds.
Doyle stepped into view while Angel stayed hidden from sight. Mrs. Lawds turned her steely gaze towards the half-demon. "We didn't realize this room was off limits," Doyle apologized, reaching over and taking Cordelia's hand in his and pulling her towards the stairs. "We were just leaving in fact."
Mrs. Lawds watched both of them closely as they made their way up the ladder and then escorted them out of the room. Cordelia and Doyle watched as the old lady made a display of locking the library before turning back to them.
"Dinner is at 7 o'clock," she told them, promptly. "Please see that you're on time. Stay to your room or the dining hall until that time."
With a prim nod she swished down the corridor towards the stairs, leaving Doyle and Cordelia lost in a maze of unfamiliar corridors and rooms. * * * * It took almost over an hour of exploring the huge mansion to find their way back to their guestroom again. When they finally entered the room they found Angel sitting in the hard back red velvet chair thumbing through a leather bound book. He didn't seem surprised at their extended absence.
"You're back," was all he said.
"What are you reading?" asked Doyle, curiously.
"Family history of the Grange Hall residence," he replied, not looking up from his page. "I think I know what's going on around here and why we were asked to help a girl that we haven't actually met yet. Dating back to the 1900's there have been many cases of suicide and foul play. It all started with the original owner's daughter, Sarah Grange. She made a lover's pact with their young gardener, Thomas O'Hardy, that they would always stay together. When her father found out about them he sent Sarah away to live with an Aunt and banished Thomas from the house. The night before Sarah was due to leave, the housekeeper found both Sarah and Thomas's bodies in the library. Both had died from massive overdoses of rat poison."
"How terrible," murmured Cordelia. "And gross. Rat poison - eeww!"
"Lovers pact turns into suicide, got it," summarized Doyle. "But how do we fit into this?"
Angel placed the book down and looked thoughtful. "I think the ghosts of Sarah Grange and Thomas O'Hardy are reenacting their last night together. They died unhappily, chances are they never completely passed over to the other side," he said.
"Why does it have to be supernatural?" asked Cordelia. "It could be a coincidence all these murders and suicides. Had it ever occurred to you that it was probably some eccentric murderer in this area?"
"I hope not," replied Angel. "I only kill demons."
"Assuming you're right about these ghosts," Doyle said. "When do you think they'll try to stage another bloodbath again?"
"Tonight," replied Angel. "Today's when the accident actually happened according to this book."
"Great," muttered Cordelia, unenthusiastically.
"When you go down to dinner, make sure all the other guests don't stray out of your sight," Angel instructed, standing up and heading for the door. "I'll be nearby. I'm going to look around for anything suspicious." He left the room so Cordelia and Doyle could change for dinner.
* * * * Cordelia tried not to let her jaw hang open in amazement when she stepped out of the en-suite bathroom. Doyle stood near the couch wearing a clean black evening suit and white shirt; looking a lot more handsome than what she had given him credit for. The suit had to have been borrowed from Angel, Cordelia convinced herself. He hadn't heard her enter the room she realized as he cursed silently to himself as he finally mastered knotting his tie. Cordelia caught herself staring and cleared her throat, embarrassed. Doyle looked up startled and his eyes widened when he saw Cordelia.
"You look amazing," he told her, sincerely.
"Thanks," Cordelia replied, glancing down at her knee length black halter- necked dress. "You don't look so bad yourself."
"You think so?" Asked Doyle, hopefully.
Cordelia nodded as she picked up her purse. "Come on," she said. "We can't look suspicious being late for dinner."
With that she took Doyle's arm and lead the way out of the room and down to the huge dining room. They realized on entering that they were alone. There were no other guests to be seen. The long oak dining table had only two places set as well. Doyle and Cordelia looked at one another both confused and wary.
"Where is everyone?" asked Cordelia. "We can't be the only two guests here, can we?"
Doyle shrugged his shoulders as he surveyed the room. "Maybe Mrs. Lawds could tell us?" he suggested.
Behind them they heard the door close and then a key turning in the lock. Cordelia moved to the door, trying to open it.
"Hey!" she called out, banging on the door. "Open up. There's people in here!"
Doyle rattled the handle too but knew it was futile.
"It's for your own good," came Mrs. Lawds voice from the other side of the door. "I don't mean to harm you but you must stay in here until tomorrow."
They heard her footsteps echoing down the corridor away from them.
"Tomorrow!?" exclaimed Cordelia, indignantly. "I'm not sleeping in here with Doyle!"
"Hey!" protested Doyle, looking hurt.
"You know I didn't mean it like that, Doyle," responded Cordelia, moving away from the door in frustration.
"What was that?" asked Doyle, suddenly.
"I said I didn't -"
"No, no, not like that," interrupted Doyle. "That noise. A scratching sort of sound."
She froze on the spot, listening. When at first she couldn't hear anything she turned to snap at Doyle, when suddenly she heard it. Slowly, she turned towards the sound. It was coming from behind a wall.
"Doyle?" she murmured, as the noise became louder.
Instinctively, Doyle moved to stand in front of Cordelia in an effort to shield her from harm. He reached to grab a weapon and ended up holding a fork. He almost laughed at the irony of it.
Without another warning a section of the wall slid away partially and a figure was silhouetted in the entrance. It was Angel. Doyle and Cordelia let out relieved sighs before turning on him.
"Angel, man, you almost put me into an early grave," said Doyle, putting the fork back down onto the table.
"Haven't you heard of using a door?" accused Cordelia. "Last time I checked it was still the most popular way of entering a room."
"Sorry," apologized Angel, though he looked a little puzzled at the fuss they were making. "I found a new secret passageway." He looked at the table. "Am I interrupting something special? I thought you two were dining with the other guests?"
"We were but it turns out we are the only guests here," replied Cordelia. "And then that creepy Mrs. Lawds locked us in here so we'd be safe."
"Safe?" repeated Angel, with a frown.
"She didn't say what from," replied Doyle.
"I think she's going senile," added Cordelia.
"Let's go," said Angel. "We need to speak to Mrs. Lawds - I think she's connected to all this somehow."
Cordelia made a move to enter the hidden passageway when Angel grabbed her hand to stop her.
"Maybe I should lead," he suggested. "I've got better night vision than you and I have a better knowledge of the layout now. Grab hold of Doyle and follow me."
"Fine," huffed Cordelia, grabbing hold of Doyle's hand and following Angel through the wall.
* * * * The tunnel led them down to the library again, this time through a concealed doorway in one of the bookcases. As it sealed up behind them, Cordelia shook off Angel's and Doyle's grip. Her attention was once again drawn towards the crystalline globe sitting on the fireplace mantle.
"What now?" Doyle asked Angel, watching as Cordelia walked passed him.
"Explain to me again what happened when you went down for dinner," replied Angel.
While Angel and Doyle talked, Cordelia had made her way to the fireplace. After studying the orb in fascination, she reached out a tentative hand to touch it. As her fingers touched the cool surface, she was unaware of the brighter glow it began to emanate. She was also unaware of Angel and Doyle's conversation and even less aware of them approaching her and calling her name. She only became alert when Doyle shook her gently by the shoulders.
"Take your hands off me."
Doyle's eyes widened in shock. Not at Cordelia's words but at the tone of her voice. That oddly lilting voice wasn't Cordelia, it was someone else. "Cordy?"
Cordelia pushed him away roughly. "This isn't fair! Why are you doing this to me? I thought I meant something to you."
Doyle looked at her disconcerted. "What?"
"Doyle, that's not Cordelia," warned Angel, in understanding. "She's Sarah Grange now. The lovers pact, remember?"
"But there's no Thomas O'Hardy," began Doyle, before suddenly stopping. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Cordelia and his posture went rigid.
"Hello, Thomas," murmured Angel, under his breath. He stepped backwards a little and watched his two friends carefully.
"How can you say that?" demanded Doyle to Cordelia, his accent becoming broader. "I gave you everything I could. I would have married you."
"How can you marry me if you're not with me?" Cordelia demanded.
"We've talked about this before, Sarah," Doyle replied, exasperated. "I cannot and will not enrage your Father anymore than we have already done so. If he found out I'd followed you to your Aunt's house, he could separate us forever."
"But I want you with me now!" protested Cordelia, tears coming to her eyes.
"Just wait five more years until you are of age," Doyle tried to reason. "Then I will come for you, with money and a house."
"No," replied Cordelia, striding over to the small side table and opened a drawer. She took out a small pistol; shiny, modern and fully loaded.
"Cordelia! No!" Angel called out in warning, stepping forwards to stop her. He was stopped by a strong grip on his arm. Looking around in surprise, he found it was Mrs. Lawds who restrained him. How had she gotten in without being seen or heard?
"I will not wait five years," continued Cordelia, oblivious to Angel's interruption. "I cannot wait another five minutes."
"Let go of me," demanded Angel to the landlady. "I have to stop her. They're my friends and I won't let them die while they're possessed by ghosts."
"You cannot interfere now," Mrs. Lawds responded, sternly. "They had their chance to escape this path and they chose to ignore my warning instead. Once begun it will not stop."
Cordelia aimed the gun at Doyle, who was just standing still in front of her, watching in sympathy.
"You don't want to do this, Sarah," he murmured.
"I'm sorry, Tom," she replied, tears freely falling now. "But if I can't have you no-one else can. This is for the best. I promise."
With that she fired. Doyle grunted in pain and jolted to his knees. "Sarah!" he managed to say in shock, before crumpling into a heap on the floor.
"Doyle!" shouted out Angel, pulling against Mrs. Lawds iron grip. Panic coursed through him as he watched a sobbing Cordelia bring the gun shakily to her own head, ready to fire. Behind her, the crystalline globe shone out radiantly, surrounding her with a rainbow of bright colours.
"NO!" Angel cried out, anxiously. Spinning, he threw a right hook at Mrs. Lawds, both loosening her grip and sending her to the floor. He lunged towards Cordelia and knocked her off her feet. As they rolled to the floor, the gun went off wildly, shooting a bullet through the magical orb and shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. A flash of light lit up the room and Mrs. Lawds let out a scream of terror.
From his vantage pint next to Cordelia, Angel watched as the pale ghostly forms of Sarah Grange and Thomas O'Hardy left the bodies of his two friends and embraced in front of him. They then took a hold of the struggling Mrs. Lawds between them. They turned as one towards Angel and a decidedly groggy Cordelia.
"Thank you for freeing us," Sarah's ghost thanked with a happy smile. "I knew you could do it. We are forever in your debt."
"Just doing our job," replied Angel, modestly. "What about Mrs. Lawds? She's a ghost too?"
Thomas nodded. "Mrs. Lawds was the person responsible for our tragic deaths. She told Mr. Grange about Sarah's love for me and helped to get the rat poison to kill us. She killed herself not long afterwards and her guilt has continued this bloodshed. Until now."
"She will be punished," added Sarah. "Fairly. And it's all thanks to you and your friends. Luck be with you, Angel."
The three ghosts shimmered out of existence before Angel could respond back. After a stunned moment of silence, Angel clambered to his feet and then helped Cordelia up. She was unsteady but otherwise okay.
"Are you alright?" Angel checked.
Cordelia nodded. "Just a huge embarrassment factor that's all. I'll be fine."
Angel nodded in relief before rushing over to where Doyle lay. Cordelia crouched down next to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Oh my god," she murmured, in distress. "What did I do? I didn't mean to hurt him, Angel, I swear."
"I know, Cordelia," soothed Angel, kindly, as he moved Doyle's head to one side to check his pulse. "You were possessed, it wasn't you. I can't see or smell any blood."
"Does that mean I missed?" asked Cordelia, hopefully.
Angel shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know. I saw him fall under the shot."
Doyle shifted suddenly causing Angel and Cordelia to draw back slightly in surprise. He took a short ragged breath before slowly opening his eyes. He groaned in agony before smiling up at his two closest friends. "Hey," he greeted, eyes sparkling once again.
"You're not dead?" asked Cordelia, worriedly.
"Err . . . I don't think so," responded Doyle. "Is that a problem, Princess?"
Cordelia just smiled warmly at him in response.
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Angel, concerned, helping to steady Doyle as he struggled to sit up. "I saw you get shot but I can't see any blood or a wound . . ."
Doyle frowned and began to pat his jacket and shirt repeatedly. He fished into his inside jacket pocket and brought out a stake. It was buckled halfway with a bullet lodged within it. He brought it up to eye level and looked at it in amazement. If that hadn't been there he would probably be dead now.
"Angel's suit, eh?" commented Cordelia, knowingly. "Lucky you."
"Thanks man," replied Doyle, in relief. "I owe you one."
"Don't thank me, Doyle," responded Angel, with a half-smile. "I forgot I'd left that in there."
Doyle didn't know how to respond to that.
"Come on," urged Cordelia, as Angel helped Doyle to his feet. "The sooner we get out of this creepy house the better."
Both men nodded in agreement and followed Cordelia out of the library. After collecting their belongings, they piled into Angel's car and left Grange Hall behind them, quiet and empty at last.
THE END.