Chapter 13: A Vision in the Dark
Alyssa followed the main hallway until it turned the corner, leading her past another locked door. Further on was a set of stairs that led up to the second level and another door. Only this one, she discovered when she tested the knob, was unlocked.
The square room on the other side looked like a bedroom; a bed with a patterned quilt was off in one corner, a desk sat to the right of the door, and a boxy bookcase mostly hid the wall beside it. A small table stood next to the bed, with a tiny vase holding a dried flower on top of it. The flower was a luminous white that seemed to mirror the moon depicted in the painting hanging above the table.
Alyssa was mostly interested in the desk. With memories of all the information she had found in print in the tailor shop fresh in her mind, she quickly began searching around for newspapers or a journal. It only took a glance to find the worn brown book lying on the corner of the desk. Sitting in the nearby desk chair, Alyssa opened the slim journal and began to read.
'I can't believe it's already been seven years since Mum lost her sight,' an entry near the middle began. 'She tries hard to stay cheerful, but I know it's difficult for her. And it's only going to become more difficult as she grows older. I'm content to stay right here and take care of her, but I'd like to make the remainder of her life as comfortable as possible.
'I went to the bakery the other day, and Percy mentioned a good optometrist that lives in London. I haven't told Mum about my plan yet. I want to wait until I have enough money saved up. It's taken a lot of time and hard work, but I should be able to afford the operation before too much longer.'
The date marked at the top of the page was November 13th. Though no year was mentioned, Alyssa was positive the entry had been made days before Albert's murder. She read on, but there were only two more entries. The remaining pages were blank.
The next entry was from three days after the previous one. The brief paragraph mentioned that a distant relative had come for a visit, though Albert had his doubts about the man's legitimacy. Dorothy, on the other hand, scolded her son for being so suspicious, and agreed to let the man stay with them.
The following entry was even briefer, but disturbing. Albert complained about hearing strange noises at night for the past several days and was starting to lose sleep because of it. His final words were naively mentioning a string of burglaries around the neighborhood, and reminding himself to lock all the doors before going to bed. The date was November 21st.
Alyssa reread the brief paragraph sadly before turning back to the previous entry. She, unlike the Rands, knew the true nature of their mysterious visitor, and Albert had supplied her with his name; John Haigh.
Though she had never seen the name before, it gave her a chill. If he was anything like the previous Subordinate, they would be getting to know each other quite well, and very soon.
Alyssa set the journal down and got up to examine the rest of the room. The nearby bookcase, which looked handmade, contained multiple books about toy design, woodcraft, how to care for tools, and many other pieces of informative literature that one would expect to find in the possession of a skilled craftsman. Sitting on one of the shelves was a red toolbox, but it was locked tight.
After a quick tour of the rest of the room, Alyssa came to the conclusion that there was nothing else of interest to be found. Hands on her hips, she let out a sigh of frustration; all the other rooms in the house were locked, so if she couldn't find anything in here, she was at a dead end. Determined not to give up, she double-checked the desk and bookcase and poked around the table, but the sparse room had little else to offer. Rapidly running out of ideas, Alyssa went over to the small bed and felt beneath the pillow.
When her search proved fruitless, she tugged back the quilt and checked under the mattress. She didn't find anything there, either, but her search had brought her to another conclusion; the Rands' were ill equipped to hide anything, least of all large amounts of money.
The newspaper had mentioned this as being the motive for the murders, and since there was no mention of the money being recovered, she could only assume that the killer had taken it with him. Thinking about it made her remember the strange book from her grandfather's study—specifically the paragraph about Entities being drawn to someone pure but weak-willed. Easily manipulated. Whatever Haigh had been like before his possession, as a Subordinate he was now full of blood lust.
Alyssa found herself wondering if Subordinates felt greed as well, along with every other facet of the ugly side of human desire.
Shivering suddenly, Alyssa held still and listened, knowing that the possessed killer was lurking somewhere nearby. Her ears strained to pick up a sound—any sound—from within the house, but the air was thick with silence. She was too far away to hear Dorothy's sobs, and though she knew it must still be falling, she couldn't hear the sound of the rain anymore, either. The entire house felt unnatural, out of place—just like her own.
Shivering again, Alyssa turned away from the bed. Maybe she had missed something downstairs, or outside. Or maybe...
She stopped going over other places to check as something occurred to her. Silently scolding herself for not thinking of it sooner, she turned back around and knelt to peer under the bed.
The narrow space was dark, forcing her to stretch a hand out and feel around blindly. Amidst the uneven floorboards her fingers brushed something cold and hard. Feeling along its shape, she noted that it felt like some kind of ring. Thinking it might be a key ring, she started to pull it out where she could see it and was surprised when she felt a good deal of weight behind it. Something beneath the bed creaked.
Feeling curious and excited, Alyssa stood and began pushing the bed. It wasn't very heavy, but it still took a few minutes of pushing and tugging to move it away from the wall. Out of breath, she moved around it and knelt down again to see if the bed had been hiding what she thought it had been hiding.
The metal ring was anchored to a square of wood set in the floor and hinged in place. Feeling pleased with herself, Alyssa gave the ring a tug and lifted the hidden door, exposing whatever secrets lay beneath it.
Peering down, Alyssa saw what looked like a narrow passageway, extending straight beneath her. A faint light suggested that it led directly to a room below; the slight illumination was enough for her to see that there was a ladder anchored to one side of the wall.
Gripping the top rung, Alyssa carefully slid her legs down into the secret entryway, her feet finding a lower rung. As she descended the ladder, her nostrils were filled with the scents of soot and soil, along with a hint of dampness from the night rain.
When her feet hit bottom, Alyssa had to get on her hands and knees and crawl out of the small space. After getting to her feet and dusting herself off, she turned around and saw that she had crawled through the back of a fireplace.
It was made of red brick and wood, the mantel decorated with a single clock—all fake, of course. The fireplace itself was real enough but the chimney wasn't, so there couldn't ever be a fire lit there. Not without flooding the room above with smoke and ash, to say nothing of the rest of the house. There were no logs inside, only a heavy layer of soot, which had stained Alyssa's knees and palms black. She thought the whole thing was rather odd and a little more trouble than it was worth, but there wasn't much she could say about it—not when there were multiple secret passages in her own home.
Absently wiping her hands together, Alyssa moved around the new room, her eyes trailing over everything carefully. She had ended up in a dining room, with a long, rectangular table in the center, flanked with rows of rickety wooden chairs. An old-fashioned television set rested on a triangular cabinet in the corner, and propped beside it was a bright red fire extinguisher. To help the ruse, Alyssa assumed, since no fires were really being lit here.
The room, though large, was mostly empty, much like Albert's bedroom. A row of windows lined the back wall, half-hidden behind once white curtains, now grimy and yellow with age. A small cabinet filled with dishes was the only other piece of furniture to be seen.
Alyssa checked everything carefully—she wasn't looking forward to going back outside if searching the house proved useless. After checking both cabinets and behind the TV, she moved over to the table. She noticed that it was set with three empty teacups, and there was an old, slightly dented teapot in the middle. Lying next to it was a small key.
Relieved that her sooty journey hadn't been for nothing, Alyssa pocketed the key and turned from the table to look for another way out of the room. As she did, she suddenly noticed the dark stain on the floor.
It was dark brown and easy to overlook in the dim light, but there was no mistaking it. The stain started near the table and ran across the floor in patchy streaks, making a trail to the double doors that led out of the dining room. No doubt it touched the stain outside, made when someone dragged something—or someone—out of the room. Or, Alyssa realized, maybe it had been dragged into the room; she wasn't really sure.
After unlatching the locked doors, she pushed them open and stepped back out into the main hallway, near the front door. Rapidly forming a map of the house in her mind, she hurried down the hall towards the small locked door at the far end. To her relief, the key she just found fit perfectly, and she was soon stepping inside the new room.
She had unlocked a large, cluttered kitchen. A tall cabinet with glass doors stood to her right, filled with more dishes and an assortment of herbs and spices. Directly to her left was a wobbly-looking table. The speckled cloth draped over it hung crookedly over the side, and one of the chairs had fallen over. Lying discarded on the floor, mostly hidden by the table cloth, was a pair of muddy boots.
In front of her was a long counter, the length of which was lined with pots and pans of various sizes. There was a soft thumping from the old metal basin of the sink as the corroded faucet above it dripped steadily. After glancing at the bare table, Alyssa checked the cabinet and counter carefully for any more clues. When she turned away from the counter and faced the room again, she jerked back and nearly screamed in surprise.
The pair of boots she had glimpsed from the other side of the table weren't discarded after all; they belonged to the feet of a badly burned corpse. Alyssa recovered from the shock quickly and knelt for a better look, though she didn't care to move any closer.
The unfortunate soul was a man dressed in slacks and a dark shirt with suspenders. He was lying on his stomach and facing away from her, for which Alyssa was glad; she didn't really want to see what kind of damage had been done to the flesh of his face. Lying next to his charred hand was a broken camera, a slightly damaged notebook, and several photographs. He had been a reporter, Alyssa realized, and quickly reached out and picked up the notebook.
The memo hastily scribbled inside told her that the late reporter had been investigating the murders of Albert and Dorothy. He mentioned having found an important clue, but didn't say what it was. The memo ended there.
Disappointed, Alyssa continued to flip through the notebook for any further information. As she turned to the middle, a folded newspaper clipping fell out from between the pages and into her lap.
'Serial Killer Meets Grisly End', the headline read. Resting her back against the cool tile of the kitchen counter, Alyssa unfolded the article and carefully read the rest.
'After being on the run for over a year, serial killer John Haigh died in a steel plating factory last night. Haigh was responsible for robbing and murdering several pensioners, whom he would then dispose of via placing them in a container of sulfuric acid.
'Since the acid used in the crimes was stolen, police began staking out all local facilities housing vats of sulfuric acid in the hopes of catching Haigh. The suspect was then spotted at a plating factory in Horsharn and, in an ironic twist, lost his balance during the ensuing struggle with authorities and fell into one of the vats of acid, meeting the same end as his victims.'
The article had been issued on the 11th of May, 1962. Over a year before the deaths of Albert and Dorothy. As Alyssa folded the paper again, it dawned on her that the killer hadn't even bothered to change his name once he'd resurfaced as a Subordinate. She wasn't sure if that was gusty or foolish.
After setting the notebook back beside its unfortunate owner, Alyssa picked up the photographs for a closer look, though her stomach did flip-flops as she did.
She suspected that the photographs were the clue mentioned in the notebook; they were pictures of the crime scene itself, or so it it said on the backs of the photos. In actuality, they depicted the crime itself; a man dressed in heavy-duty clothing, thick gloves and some kind of protective mask was dragging a large oil drum behind the Rands' home, and something that looked suspiciously like a pair of legs was visible above the rim. Alyssa didn't wonder how the photographer himself had become a victim; he must have been extremely close to have been able to get such clear shots.
Alyssa felt saddened as she placed the photographs on the floor again, but there really wasn't anything she could do for the poor man. At least he wasn't suffering to the extent that the Rands were.
Leaving the charred corpse behind, Alyssa unlatched the door at the back of the room. A blast of cold air and rain hit her face as she opened it. She was tempted to close it again, but she had searched the house as much as she could; it was time to look someplace new.
But, as she stepped back out into the ruthless night, she realized she had already been here; she had unlocked the door that was near the dumpster. Shielding her eyes from the rain with both hands, Alyssa scanned the dim road for anything she may have missed. When her gaze reached the spot beneath the streetlight off to her right she felt a shockwave.
Someone was standing beneath the light. Alyssa only caught a glimpse before they moved out of sight, melding into the darkness like a shadow, but that was all she needed. She instantly recognized the simple white dress and the brown chin-length bob. Now oblivious to the pouring rain, her heart pounded as she raced to the corner.
"Mum?"
She turned the corner and spied the figure standing outside the small park. Her back was facing her, but as Alyssa ran nearer, she turned to look over her shoulder. Alyssa's heart skipped a beat as she saw her mother's bright face smiling at her in the darkness.
Alyssa tried to move faster, but the pavement was too wet, causing her to slip and fall. Her outstretched palms took the brunt of the impact, sending spikes of pain up her arms. Blood trickled off into the puddles in ribbon-thin streaks. As Alyssa pushed herself to her feet, her mother suddenly turned and disappeared into the park. "Wait!"
Feet sloshing noisily through the puddles, Alyssa hurried to the entrance. It was darker here, but Alyssa knew she would still be able to see her mother's white dress. But, as she hastily searched the small space, she soon saw that there wasn't a soul around.
After circling the park for several minutes, Alyssa stopped moving and covered her face with her ice-cold hands. Had she really seen her mother, or...?
"I need to get out of here," she murmured aloud.
She needed to get back to the safety of her own home, if only for a little while. She needed to sit down, warm up and gather her thoughts. Only, she thought bitterly as she returned to the spot she first appeared, she wasn't sure if she could return at will. She hadn't returned the last time until the after the Subordinate was defeated.
As if in answer to her question, something sparkled on the ground at her feet. Alyssa bent and picked it up and was shocked when she recognized it. The bright silver key that unlocked her grandfather's desk.
She was about to straighten again when she spotted something else, something dark and curved in the grass. Alyssa reached out and touched it with her finger and felt nothing but the ground. But her heart filled with relief and hope as she reached for the bottle hanging from her belt; it was almost hidden by the withered grass, but she knew she was looking at the same kind of mysterious circle that had sent her here in the first place.
With the bottle in one hand and the key in the other, she traced the already soaked ground with holy water before stepping into the center of the circle. The same tingling, disorientated feeling she felt before filled her, and the dreary November night vanished from her sight.