22
Maggie couldn’t shakethe distinct sensation that the building was staring at her. She huddled close to Gideon instinctually, staring up at the darkened windows. The windows and doors of the first floor were boarded up and painted a faded red to match the brickwork of the structure. But from the second floor up, they were left as gaping black holes to stare out at the world around them.
She shivered.
The gothic architecture of the building reached high up into the night sky. A few spires of the old structure still held on despite the ravages of New England weather and lack of care. They stabbed at the stars like jagged fingers, black silhouettes against the faint glow of moonlight.
The grass had long since been neglected to be cut, except for the paths that were clearly used by whatever rental security company was paid to patrol the grounds. Judging by the human-sized holes in the tornado twist fencing, they weren’t terribly good at their jobs. The long grass swayed in the breeze, the rustle joining that of the leaves in the nearby trees as the only sounds to greet them that night.
If ever there were a single building she had seen that was most definitely haunted, it was this one. The sprawling Kirkbride complex was shaped like a bat from above. The once-central building spanned out in two directions in a staggered pattern, creating the illusion of wings. Vague images flashed through her mind of wandering those corridors, weaving through hallways and finding ways to hide from the understaffed orderlies to have a few moments to herself.
She knew where to go. Gritting her teeth, preparing herself for what was about to happen, she marched forward toward the fence and one particularly large hole. Harry and Gideon followed at her heels. The moon was half full, giving them plenty of light to explore the exterior of the building without flashlights. But once they got inside, she suspected it would be much too dark to see.
She would worry about being seen by the guards, if Gideon hadn’t already paid them off on the way up to the old asylum.
“Any plans on getting in?” Harry asked from behind her. They had brought a bolt cutter, despite the fact that they really probably didn’t need one. They had a lich, after all. But she would prefer not to get thrown around like a ragdoll like she had in London if she could help it.
“I’m sure the local teenagers have found a way in.” She walked along the edge of the brick wall. Her voice came out more strained and tighter than she intended.
“Are you all right?” Gideon sped up to walk closer to her side.
“Yeah. Just…memories. I can feel them. I don’t know what they are, but I know they weren’t—they weren’t nice ones.” She cringed as she looked up at the rusty open-air corridors on the outside of some of the buildings. She remembered being sat out there like a bird in a cage with others in their white gowns. But the caged balconies were fantastic compared to the alternatives. In her memories, the grated coverings were shining and new. Now they were rusted and half-collapsed, grown over with vines that climbed the whole side of the building, nearly devouring it. “I don’t think there were many happy memories made here by anyone.”
“I suppose not.”
The heaviness in Gideon’s voice made her heart ache, but there wasn’t anything she could do for him at the moment. They were doing a little bit of good, old-fashioned, nighttime breaking and entering.
And she had her own shit to contend with. Namely, that with every corner they rounded, she swore she could see figures moving through the grass or on the other side of the windows and gates. But as she focused on them, they were gone.
Ghosts.
Why is this creeping me out? I have a lich for a boyfriend.Oof. Boyfriend? When had that happened in her head? Great. I’ll figure that shit out later.
“Gideon?”
“Yes?”
“Um. Is this place haunted?”
“Very. And?”
She pointed at a figure that she could just barely see out of the corner of her eye. “Is that one?”
“I—” He paused. “Yes. Hm. I am not making her manifest. Can you see her?”
“No. I mean. Yes. But not really. Just—like—out of the corners of my vision.” Maggie whined. “I don’t want to see ghosts!”
“It’s not that bad.” He chuckled. “You get used to it. I can command them to go away, if you like.”
“No, it’s fine.” Not paying attention to where she was going, since she could apparently see dead people now, she staggered for a few steps as she tripped over an old brick pathway, but she caught herself before she bit it. It was more embarrassing than anything else, so she smiled back at Gideon to show she was fine. “They belong here, we don’t.”
“I doubt they feel that they belong anywhere.” He furrowed his brow as he looked off toward one of the other buildings. “That is entirely the problem.”
“Why is it I can sort of see ghosts now?” Focusing on the task at hand, she rounded another corner in search of an easy way into the building. Or at least something with a chain they could cut. She wanted to scope the place out before she gave in and let Gideon carry her through a broken window.
“I suspect it is due to your proximity to the talisman.”
“What is that thing, anyway? Besides your means of fixing the phylactery.”