It had been six months since the new family had moved in; they had redecorated the house with their own furniture and were finally unpacked. The curb was lined with empty moving boxes to be picked up by the garbage truck on Thursday. Things were feeling good in The Murder House. Tate had kept a close eye on his brother, making sure to keep Isaac busy by teaching Tate about the darkness and all its great powers. Tate hadn't seen much of Violet since the night he cuddled her to sleep, but he knew as long as Isaac was in his sights that she was safe.
Violet had taken an interest in Logan, but she still didn't let her presence known around him. Since school was now out for the summer, he was always around the house. She didn't exactly find him attractive, just interesting. The way he moved around the house with such ease; only took him a couple months to figure out the entire area of the house, except the basement. Whenever he would start to open the door, Violet would make some strange noise in another room for him to investigate.
She even made a deal with Troy and Bryan; she would never get mad at them, no matter what evil tricks they did to her, as long as they kept their distance with Logan and Annabelle. They weren't too happy about it, but since Violet was already dead they possibilities were endless. It had been a couple months since their last trick on her and she was ready for a doozy one day soon.
Logan was in his bedroom playing music and reading when Violet left him. She wondered downstairs to the kitchen where Annabelle was sitting at the kitchen table with finger paints; getting her play clothes as dirty as possible. Nora was sitting at the counter with a cup of tea, watching in amazement. "I have wanted a child for as long as I can remember," she spoke quietly; her head was away from the doorway that Violet was standing in. "And when Thaddeus was born, I was so happy. I don't remember ever being so happy." Her smile started to fade. "That horrible evening after I hung up with that evil voice that chanted 'Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth.' I didn't know what was going on, but I knew something wasn't right. I ran to check on Thaddeus who had been asleep. And…" She stared out the window, seeing her painful memories of that night dance before her. "He was gone. My angel was gone."
She made took a long mournful sigh. "Charles said that whoever took him would give him back to us after we paid the ransom. I waited by the phone. I waited, and waited for someone to call me about my baby. But no one ever did. They returned my sweet Thaddeus, in jars, cut up into pieces. They killed my baby." She began blinking, trying to find the courage to not cry. "Violet, you will never know the pain a mother goes through when she loses her child. You will never understand the desperation of her actions to try and replenish what she lost. A feeling I will know for the rest of forever. When you lose your child, you lose yourself. Now, I look at any family who has a child and I am so envious. And envy will hurt you in the end. I see this beautiful little girl in front of me," she pointed to Annabelle. "And I know she is not mine. She is not my Thaddeus, but I can't hold back the desire to take her and raise her as mine."
She looked behind her at Violet. "I know I would not be a good mother to this little girl. I wasn't a good mother to my own. If I had been more attentive or… He would have never been taken from me, never murdered and placed in jars. Charles would have never tried to play God and bring back my only piece of pure happiness. But I still want her… if it wasn't for that horrible woman taking your mother's baby, I would have taken that one. But now she is all I want." She took a sip of her tea and went back to staring at Annabelle.
Violet already knew the story of Nora and Charles—and given the opportunity, Nora would tell her story of sorrow and pain again, and again, and again—but there was something about the way Nora told it to her this time that tugged at her heart strings. She knew she had to watch over Annabelle and make sure Nora didn't try to take her somewhere.
Violet started back upstairs when she saw Logan walking through the basement door. "Aw, shit!" she screamed. She ran after him but he was already down the stairs, as she listened to him saying "hello" into the empty basement, she decided it was now that she had to show herself. "What are you doing down here?" she asked. His head snapped around, facing her. "It's not safe down here. You're not safe."
"Who are you?" he asked, trying to follow her voice.
"That doesn't matter. You need to go back upstairs and never come in this basement, again." With each word he stepped closer to her until his hands clung to her delicate shoulders. He ran his fingers over her face. "What are you doing?"
He smiled. "I'm looking at you. You're very pretty," he said as he placed his hands at his side. "Why are you in my basement if it's not safe? How did you get in here? Who are you?"
"I live here. I'm a ghost of my former self." She watched his facial expression, expecting to see shock. "My name is Violet. I think that answers all your questions, now please go."
He laughed. "I knew there were ghosts in this house. You've been watching me, haven't you?" He winked at her.
She began shoving him up the stairs. "Don't get overly excited. This house can get quite boring. I'd watch a dog if one dared come on this property." She led him through the door and shut the door behind them. "You're a strange one, aren't you? I should be worried about your sanity, you didn't even startle at the news of my being a ghost."
She was still guiding him and he was fumbling over her feet. "Who am I to judge someone for being different?" he spoke with all sincerity.
"Even though the thing that differentiates us is a beating heart?" She was positively baffled by him.
He chuckled. "My eyes don't work. Your heart doesn't. So what? I like talking to people who don't take pity on me." She turned him to face the upstairs. "And by the way, ghost girl, I can take it from here." He smiled before grabbing hold of the railing and pulling himself up. She followed behind him into his room.
"This used to be my room… when I was alive and all that," she mumbled to herself.
Logan ignored her trip down memory lane. "How many ghosts are in his house?" he asked as he walked over to his stereo and turned it on. Nirvana music started playing and Violet smiled. She knew she liked him for a reason.
"Let's see…" she said to herself as she took a seat on his floor. "There's the Montgomery's and their… son who lives in the basement. A couple nurses that worked for Mr. Montgomery. Hayden. My mom. Moira. Beau. The twins. Myself. Chad and Patrick. Lorraine and her two girls. Travis. The home invaders. And Tate." She decided not to mention Isaac since it pained her to even think about him. She didn't even look at his expression, just stared into space.
"Wow. Who's Tate? Your voice changed when you said his name."
She jumped to her feet. "I'll tell you about them all another day. I have to go do some things."
He grinned. "Ghost things? Like scare people?"
"Something like that. Remember, don't go into the basement."
He nodded. "Bye, ghost girl."
She smiled. "Bye, strange boy." She turned around on the balls of her feet and headed out the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She didn't notice the familiar figure lurking in the shadows, watching her every move.
Tate had been in the basement when he heard Violet's sweet voice. He followed her upstairs and watched every breath she took and smile that graced her lips while talking to Logan. He was making her smile again. Something Tate hadn't seen in a while. She even laughed a few times; her laughter was his lullaby. He knew she loved him, but she wasn't safe with him until Isaac was gone.
Tate sat in the chair at the foot of Logan's bed; propped his feet up and watched Logan stir in his sleep. Logan's breathing went from quick to slow; he was waking up. "Have a nice dream?" Tate spoke with clarity and meaning. He watched as Logan shot up in bed and shuffled backwards, asking who was there. "I was watching you sleep and it looked like you were having a nice dream. I bet I know who it was about because I'd dream about her too if I could dream at all." Tate ignored Logan's constant question about his identity. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, I just wanted to talk to you."
"How'd you get in my room?" Logan continued with the questions.
Tate rolled his eyes. "Enough with the questions! I'm trying to talk to you and all you care about is unnecessary tidbits. I live here, well, more like I'm damned to walk these halls for the rest of time. This used to be my room, then Violet's, and now yours. The sky is blue just because it is. The chicken crossed the road just for the Hell of it. My name is Tate. There, does that answer all of your damn questions?"
Logan's eyebrows flew up. "So you're Tate. I don't really know anything about you, except that when Violet said your name I could sense something in her tone, what it was I'm not sure."
Tate chuckled. "I'm not sure what she feels for me, either. But that's not why I came in here." Tate put his feet down on the floor. "I need you to do me a favor." Logan cocked his eyebrow. "I see that Violet is quite fond of you and doesn't want you to get hurt—trust me, there are more things in this house that can hurt you than out there. I don't want Violet to get hurt. I need your help with protecting her."
"Me? You want me to help protect someone I can't even see?" Logan laughed at his request. "Plus, isn't she already dead? How could she possibly get hurt?"
Tate shook his head. "Just because her heart no longer pumps blood through her body, does not mean it can't be broken. Glass isn't alive and yet, you can shatter it into pieces beyond repair. Help me keep her safe from that. Please?"
Logan took a deep breath. "I can tell you love her and I wouldn't want something to happen to her, she's fun to talk to. What do you need me to do?"
Tate smiled and rested his hands on the bed railing. "Just talk to her. Keep her occupied. If she's not alone, she won't be susceptible to the evil in this house. It only really attacks when you're by yourself. I may need your help with something else, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Do we have a deal?" Tate held his hand out.
Logan closed his eyes and smiled. "Yes, we have a deal. And you do realize holding out your hand doesn't really help me locate it, right? I'm not a bat, I don't have sonar." Tate scrambled for his hand and they shook.