Chapter 34

By

Brynn Morgan

Copyright © 2023 by – Brynn Morgan – All Rights Reserved.

It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

Chapter 34

Lainie arrived back at Hasting's house with Bella, and everyone was outside on the porch, waiting. They had paused the seance until Lainie came back with the girl.

Emily rushed out to the car and opened the door for Bella. She looked up at Emily with sleepy blue eyes, and her face was solemn. "Hey, Bella," Emily said softly.

Bella got out of the car slowly, looked at all the people gathered on the porch, and then spotted Davis. He smiled at her, and she walked over to him and hugged him tightly around his waist. She looked scared and frail.Lainie walked over and stood beside Emily, and they approached the group." I'm scared to let her in there," she said worriedly to Davis. "She has not been in that house since her mother died."

"We will watch her like a hawk, Lainie," Emily assured her. Vivian had recovered and was no longer shaking as she had been before. She walked over to Bella.

"Thank you for coming, Bella. I need your assistance tonight," she said, talking to her as she would talk to a colleague. Bella was a beautiful child, and she was unique with her pale blue eyes that were so full of intelligence and she had white-blond hair. She also had the gift of sight; only Vivian could read that as she held her hand. She could be a mighty force with the proper training.

Davis led Bella inside the entryway, and they made a space for her at the table with all the other participants. "I believe you will react differently this time, Penelope," Vivian whispered in the darkness. "Now that Bella is here with us," Vivian struck a match and lit her candle. Her voice was low. The only light again came from the eerie glow of the candles, casting shadows on the walls and ceiling."Penelope, we are back with you now. Are you still here with us?" Vivian asked. They were met with silence. "Will you speak to us?" She asked. "Bella is here; I know she is your friend. She wants to help you as we do." Bella leaned in tight to Emily, and her eyes were wide with fright. Emily rubbed Bella's shoulder to dispel her fear as best as possible. "Penelope. Can you tell me what happened to you in this house?" Vivian asked softly.

Stefan had the pen poised a few inches above the paper. Suddenly, the pen moved so softly that he wondered if he had imagined it, but it did it again. It moved. The pen lowered to the paper and began to write.

DIE

Vivian looked at the word. "Die? Are you trying to say that you died here, Penelope, or are you saying that you want someone here to die?" she asked. "Could you clarify for me, please?"

Again, the pen scribbled DIE; every time this happened, Stephan would repeat it so the group could hear it.

"Did you die in this house?" Vivian asked once more and only received silence. She was extremely frustrated. She had hoped that Bella's presence would unlock something but had failed to succeed.

Bella stood up abruptly, startling everyone, from her chair and pushed it back with a scraping sound against the marble floor. She walked away from the table and wandered over to the grand staircase lit in candlelight. Beyond the stairs was thick, overwhelming darkness. Bella started climbing the steps, and Lainie hurried after Bella and climbed the steps behind her.

"Look," Stephan said excitedly, tapping Vivian on her hand. She looked up and smiled.The chandelier moved slowly, back and forth, and the bulbs blinked and then went out like extinguished stars. It was happening.

Vivian followed them up the grand staircase and motioned for Davis and Clarrisa to accompany her.

Bella reached the top of the steps, and doors shut down the hallway loudly. The chandelier swung erratically, back and forth, back and forth.

Vivian stood at the landing, and Bella was in front of her. Her small hand was on the railing. "Did you die in this house, Penelope?" Vivian asked.

Slowly, out of the shadows, a figure appeared at the far end of the hall near the room. Penelope was watching. She was listening. The Girl was enraged. Vivian sighted her, and she saw Penelope suspended in the air. Bella shook with fear, and her legs trembled. Penelope started advancing slowly, floating down the shadowed corridor to them, threatening and menacing.

"How did you die, Penelope?" Vivian asked in a shaking voice.

Penelope stopped; her brown dress swayed around her feet like a flag in the wind. Her black eyes were evil and bloodshot. Penelope's gruesome smile caused shivers down Vivian's spine. Without warning, Penelope flew down the hallway like a flash of light. She lifted Lainie explosively up and off the floor by her feet. Lainie screamed and struggled to loose Penelope's grip, but it was impossible. She was too strong. Davis tried to grab her from Penelope but was not quick enough. Penelope dangled Lainie over the staircase. Lainie looked down helplessly as she was held by her feet, and then Penelope hissed and dropped Lainie over the railing without a thought. Emily watched in horror as Lainie fell helplessly through the air and landed with a loud, sickening thud on the marble floor. Davis screamed, "NO!" and bounded down the steps to his sister's still body. Emily  rushed over and falling down beside her friend. She held Lainie's head in her lap and cried. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. Her dark brown eyes were void of life. She was dead. Lainie was snuffed out like a flame. The Sisters gathered around her with heads bowed in their long black robes, candles lit, and chanted a prayer of passing over her, their friend. It was a sad night with the loss of Lainie. Stefan looked up the stairs and feared for Vivian. He had never witnessed anything like Penelope.

Davis fell beside Emily and desperately reached for Lainie's body. He grabbed her from Emily, hugged her to his chest, and closed his eyes tightly, rocking back and forth. Davis sobbed, and Emily's heart broke for him. He had lost both of his sisters in that house to Penelope.

Penelope floated above them all and looked down at Vivian and Bella. She seethed with rage. Penelope started to move toward Bella, and Vivian panicked.

She ran and stood between them, between the ghost and the girl.

'No, Penelope!" She bellowed. "Not her!" Vivian got down on her knees and held her hands out."Take me! Not her!" Penelope slowly turned around and quickly, with one hand, lifted Vivian into the air. Vivian's eyes were wide with fright, and her voice shook as she whispered."Show me. Show me how you died, Penelope."Penelope pinned Vivian against the massive grandfather clock against the wall and looked into her eyes. Vivian stared into the dark, bottomless depths of Penelope's evil gaze.

***

Past – 1853

The day of Penelope's death:

Georgia hated anyone touching her things. She despised it. Georgia especially hated it when that creepy girl snuck into her room at night and touched her things. Georgia's dresses and her dolls were messed with, and her favorite dress, a pretty pink one with lots of ruffles, was ripped and then placed back in her closet by the girl. There was no proof of it and no way for her to prove it, but she knew it was her. It felt contaminated to her after the girl touched it, dirty. She would normally toss in the room at the end of the hall and let the wretch have it.Georgia wished that she would just go away. She wanted her Papa to send her away, but he would not, and she did not understand why.

On this particular summer day, Georgia was in a terrible mood. It was sweltering outside, and the humidity made her dark curls limp and ugly. She was thirteen now, and she was turning into a woman. She was bleeding, and her stomach cramped horribly.

She lay on her large bed, curled up in a fetal position to lessen the pain in her stomach. The room was comfortable with the thick draperies drawn closed. Her family was outside in the garden. She could hear them with their loud, annoying voices and high-pitched laughter. Georgia hated Catherine. She hated her new mother. She was not her mother. Her mother had died because of her weak little sister London, but she acted as sweet as sugar to her face. Georgia missed her mother, Elizabeth. She was so beautiful, and Georgia loved that she looked just like her. Georgia hated Catherine because Georgia was in charge of the house after her mother's death. She did whatever she wanted—treated the servants the way that she wanted to treat them. She was treated and revered like a queen. Georgia wished her Papa had never married Catherine because she ruined everything for her.

Georgia turned over and faced the wall, sulking. She began to feel sleepy, and she took a thick quilt, pulled it over her body, and snuggled it around her shoulders.

Her sleep was interrupted by the sound of her door opening slowly. The hinges screeched in protest. She did not sit up. Georgia knew who it was. It was the girl. That girl thought everyone was outside, so she took it upon herself to snoop through her things. Georgia waited. She felt her anger rising, and her body began to shake. On his last trip, Her Papa bought her a beautiful white satin and lace Parasol, and she could hear the girl trying to open it.

Georgia shook with rage, flipped over quickly, and Penelope stood before the dresser with the parasol extended. She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Penelope did not see Georgia watching her. She jumped when Georgia spoke.

"How many times have I told you not to touch my things, girl? Georgia asked in a dangerous voice, her dark eyes glittering with rage. Penelope turned slowly, still holding the Parasol above her head, and challenged Georgia with dark eyes that mirrored her sisters. Georgia crawled out of bed slowly, like a lion stalking its prey, and reached down, grabbed the riding crop she kept by her bed, and held it loosely in her hands. "You are a nuisance girl, and I have warned you... but... you... don't listen... because... you... are... stupid!" She brought the whip down across Penelope's shoulder, causing an angry red welt to form on her pale skin. Penelope winced but held onto the Parasol, turned, and ran toward the door. Georgia grabbed her by the hair and pulled her toward her. Penelope fell, and Georgia delivered blow after brutal blow with her whip. A lash landed across Penelope's face, and she dropped the Parasol, got up, and ran from the room and down the hallway. Georgia pursued her quickly.

Penelope fled from her sister, and usually, she could outrun her, but this time, it was as if the devil himself chased her down. The door to Paris's room opened, and she stepped out into the hallway, hearing the commotion. Paris took in the scene with a glance. Her angry older sister, poised with the whip above her head, was ready to strike out at the servant girl who had fallen again and scrambled to get back up as quickly as she could. "Catch her, Paris!" Georgia yelled, and Paris, who wished to have no part of it, went back into her bedroom and closed her door—completely ignoring her sister, who was beating Penelope mercilessly.

Georgia lashed out with her whip, and Penelope backed away, shielding herself with her hands and arms. They went out onto the landing, and Penelope backed toward the stairs. She was unaware of how close she was to the top step. Georgia continued forward, and Penelope looked backward and saw the step, but Georgia raised the whip to lash her again, and Penelope lost her balance and fell back. Georgia watched as Penelope fell backwards. She heard the sickening thud of bone hitting wood, and she could have run down and stopped her, but she saw Penelope's face, and she hated her, so she let her fall like a flailing rag doll without an ounce of concern.

Paris came out of her room, hearing the thuds, and when she saw Penelope at the bottom of the stairs, she cried out. "Oh my God, Georgia! What have you done?" she hurried down the steps and looked down at Penelope. She was unconscious. Penelope's head was twisted at an odd angle, and a stream of red blood trickled from her mouth and down her chin. Penelope's leg was broken, with bone protruding from the skin. Paris felt herself growing faint. "I think that she is dead, Georgia! "She screamed and grabbed her hair frantically. Georgia came down the stairs slowly and stood beside Paris. She looked down at Penelope and felt stirrings of panic in her gut. What was she going to do? She had killed the girl. She did not care about that so much. She just cared about what people would think of her being a killer. She was preparing to attend a Ladies' Finishing School in New York in a couple of months. What would happen now? The girl was just a servant and, therefore, was unimportant, but still, she needed to think and think quickly. Her future depended on it.

"Paris," she whispered. Paris ignored her, continuing to look down at the girl. Georgia grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard, desperately. "Paris!" she shouted. Her eyes were wide and wild. Her pupils were dilated. Paris looked at Georgia with wide eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. Georgia's voice was urgent."Listen to me. I need you to walk outside and get Papa calmly. I don't need you to start any commotion. Do you understand?" Paris's face was white as a sheet. Georgia shook her hard. "Do you understand me?" she looked at her sister intensely. Paris nodded her head with a fast motion. "Tell him that I need him and to please come immediately." She said and pushed Paris on the back forward toward the doors.

Once Paris had left, Georgia knelt by Penelope and got down at eye level with her. Her voice was cold as she looked at her. "Die, girl. Die. You are not wanted here. Nobody wants you. You are nothing. You should have never been born. Die. Die. Die." Georgia chanted over and over again softly, and Penelope gurgled helplessly.

Paris ran outside on the porch; she calmed down as best as she could, breathing deeply, and went and found her father in the garden, walking arm in arm with his new wife, Catherine. She approached him, and he bent down when he saw her approach."Dear Paris. Come to enjoy the afternoon with your family?" He asked happily. Paris tugged on his gray gentleman's coat tail, and her eyes were wide in her pale face. "What is it, child?" He asked, noticing the odd way she looked back at the house. Catherine loosened her grip on his arm and looked down at Paris.

"Are you ok, Paris? You seem flustered." Catherine said softly, touching Paris's cheek with her gloved hand. James kissed Catherine on her lips.

"You stay here, darling. I am going to go and check on Georgia." He told her and strode away quickly with Paris trailing swiftly behind him. Catherine looked after them as they trailed off but then brought her attention back to her children playing around the rose bushes.

James entered the house and immediately saw the servant girl lying on the floor. Evidently, she had fallen, and it was a severe fall. He glanced at the top of the staircase and saw Georgia looking shaken. His dark brows narrowed as he saw the whip dangling from her hand, the strips of leather brushing the floor, and then he looked down at Penelope and saw the welts on her arms, face, and legs. His tone was fierce, and his dark eyes were wide with fear.

"What... did... you... do... Georgia?" He gasped. His hand covered his mouth. Paris cried out.

"They were fighting, Papa, and the girl fell backward."

James knelt beside Penelope and placed his ear to her nose. She was not breathing. This could bring shame to his daughter! To his family! He had to fix this. He thought in a panic. "Paris, stay here with the body; if anyone comes in, tell them that the master said to stay outside." He looked at her sternly and ran out of the house quickly.

Georgia was frozen where she stood, and Paris remained sentry at the entryway door. James returned a few minutes later and looked grimly at the girl lying on the floor. He had hoped it was just a horrible nightmare, but unfortunately, it wasn't. He reached down and picked her up quickly. She was very light, and her head lolled backward. He climbed the steps with her, and when he got to the top of the landing, he placed her down on the floor in front of the railing.

Penelope's father reached into his coat pocket and extracted a long, thick rope.

Georgia looked on silently, and Paris, trembling, looked on in dread as her father looped the rope around the railing, tied it in three knots, and then, to the girls' horror, slipped a noose around Penelope's neck- his own daughter's neck. Paris lunged at her father.

"No, Papa! No! Please, no! She hit him on his shoulders, and Georgia rushed and pulled her off him.

"Stop it, Paris! " He whispered frantically, pushing Paris away from him. Sweat poured profusely down his face. He prayed that no one came in.

"She is already dead," Georgia said softly, in a sinister, cold voice that lacked emotion. "So what does it matter?" her voice was sickly sweet. James looked up at Georgia and recoiled; his voice was desperate. His blood ran cold at his unfeeling daughters' words.

"Turn away girls. You don't want to see this."

James hefted up Penelope's body onto the railing and held her there with his arms. To his amazement, her dark eyes opened slowly. She was not dead. She looked up at her father, who sired her. His blood ran through her veins. Penelope looked up at him pleadingly.

James looked down at the girl, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, he wished it could have been different. She was too far gone now, and he had to think of Georgia, so he rolled her slowly forward so that he could not see those dark, bottomless eyes dull into his soul, and James let her slip over the railing.

He sank to the floor slowly and bowed his head. A few minutes passed.

"Oh, my God! She's looking at me, Papa! She's looking at me!" Georgia screamed.

James rushed to his feet and looked over the railing. The rope swung back and forth, back and forth, and Penelope dangled from the end of the rope with her head angled, looking up toward them. She had the most terrified look on her small face. Her mouth gaped open as she struggled for breath, and her eyes filled with blood from the broken vessels.

Paris buried her face in her father's coat so that she did not have to look, and James looked directly into Penelope's eyes. He watched as she drew a final breath, and that terrified expression changed. He watched it change, transforming into the darkest and ghastly smile. James shivered in fear. What had he done? What had they all done?