AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Conor?” Isaiah tried, but he wasn’t answering. Isaiah took his pencil from his pocket and tucked it into Conor’s pocket. “For later. When you need it.”
The attendant, a big, burly man, had arrived. “All right, now, Conor. Time to go,” he said gently. He helped Conor from the chair, but Conor resisted, balling his fists.
“He’ll come tonight—they’ll all come! You’ll be trapped here and he’ll come for you one by one! One by one. All seven. One, two, t’ree, four, five, seven!”
“Let’s go, Conor. I know you don’t want the restraints.” The attendant led Conor by the arm, but he locked his feet and splayed a hand against the doorjamb, refusing to move. He was like a boy all of a sudden, wide-eyed and beseeching.
“Miriam!” he said.
“What did you say?” Sam said, stepping into the hall as the attendant hauled Conor away.
“The lady in my head! Her name is Miriam.”
“You think it could be my mother?” Sam asked Evie.
“We might’ve had a chance to ask if somebody hadn’t been so eager to get rid of him,” Evie said.
“I object!”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that I hate to be wrong,” Sam said. “But you’re right.”
Evie smiled. “Music to my ears, Sam Lloyd.”
“So the ghosts can possess people, make them do things,” Memphis said, mulling over Conor’s story. “Why? What do they want? And why are they haunting this place?”
“Pretty sure it’s not for the beef stew,” Sam said, patting his stomach and wincing.
Memphis made a face. “You ate that?”
Sam shrugged. “I was hungry.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Now I gotta figure out a way to talk to Conor.”
“Well, you can figure it out after I talk to Luther Clayton. That’s the whole reason we came here, don’t forget,” Evie said, pacing.
“Well, thanks to you, they’re not gonna let us back in that ward. Could you stop with that back-and-forth? You’re making me dizzy. And you remind me of your uncle.”
Evie glared. ?
??That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“So: Don’t. Pace.” Sam held up his arms in a shrug.
“I can’t help it. It’s being cooped up in here.” Through the barred windows, Evie looked out at the dismal weather. She could see the tinsmithing shop and the barn where some of the male patients tended peacefully to the animals. But that hadn’t always been the case here on Ward’s Island. Evie could sense it in the walls, like a stifled scream waiting to explode.
Down the hall, singing drifted out of the music therapy room, and Evie was grateful for the distraction of it to drown out the asylum’s secret confessions. She wandered down and stood just outside the room, observing. The shell-shocked patients were there. Once again, they faced one another, holding up their hands and staring into their empty palms. As Evie watched, fascinated, one of the men placed an imaginary object on the table. Without pause, another of the patients put his hand on the “object,” and after examining it, he transferred it to his left hand. Evie watched for another minute until she realized exactly where she’d seen this scenario before: It reminded her of those soldiers playing cards in her dreams. And then, as one, the men turned their heads toward Evie.
“They never should have done it,” they said in unison. They fell to the ground, screaming and writhing as if in great distress. Nurses rushed in to help the men back into their chairs. The men still reached their hands toward Evie. “Help us. Help us. Help us.”
Evie staggered down the hall, desperately in need of air. She stumbled outdoors and sucked in a lungful of cold mist. The rain was a solid wall. Evie couldn’t even see the pier through it. “Miss O’Neill. Are you all right?”
One of the nurses had followed her outside.
“When is the next ferry back to Manhattan?” Evie asked.
“I’m afraid no one’s leaving.” The nurse nodded toward the heavy rain. “The storm’s getting worse. They’ve canceled ferry service until tomorrow. You’re all stuck here for the night.”
Theta sat in the window seat, staring out at the incessant rain. “What’s the one thing I made you promise me?” she said on an angry plume of cigarette smoke.
