The Soul Jars: Lillian Darkwood Mystery

By R.M. Burthom

Lillian Darkwood has mysteriously won a free trip to England to visit a beautiful yet creepy castle abandoned for centuries. Upon her arrival, Lillian discovers that she's one of eleven strangers chosen to participate in an adventurous quest: find the Cabinet of Souls hidden somewhere in the castle, break the Wilburton Curse that has been around forever and win the eight-million-dollar castle as is. Nothing to it, right?

They embark on their search alone with nothing but a map of the castle and a cheap flashlight. A decision the eleven defenseless adventures might not live to regret. It doesn't take long before the glamour and the determination to win fades as they discover they're not the only ones wandering the castle corridors. Several unworldly creatures don't want the humans there and will stop at nothing to prevent the living from achieving their goal. As the near-death experiences and terrifying ghostly encounters start to pile up, Lillian realizes that this is no longer just an exciting hunt through a castle. It is a fight for their lives.

Will the mismatched group of participants be able to solve their differences in time to break the curse? Will any of them get out alive before the ghosts and demons of the castle prevail?

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.M. Burthom
• Release date: Nov 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201218034

Book preview

Chapter 2

Wrought iron gates creaked in the wind, high above Lillian’s town car as it turned off the boulevard. She peered eagerly through the windshield as her driver shadowed the procession of vehicles. A long stretch of driveway beyond the gate beckoned the cars towards the clutches of Whispering Castle. The castle towers loomed in the distance, gloomy yet majestic, against a backdrop of dark, angry clouds. Both the ill-omened weather and the splendor of the towers awaited the arrival of the eleven gullible victims. Only the castle knew how blissfully oblivious they were of the days ahead.

The cars reached the cul-de-sac and pulled to a halt, excited passengers and their luggage spilling out at the base of the castle steps. Pellets of rain smacked the pavement around large rolling suitcases, while the scuffle of various styles of shoes evaded the chaos of town cars coming and going.

The castle’s attendants, Bonnie and Martin, resembled rats scurrying about a tasty carcass as they rushed to secure all the luggage behind the castle’s distinguished ebony walls. All the while a dark corpus of clouds maliciously chocked the sky. The storm was closing in fast, and no one dared to be a casualty to its viciousness.

Don't go scratching up my suitcase, growled Brooke in a thick British accent. I’ve designer clothes in there, and I don't want them ruined. She glared at Martin and her driver, as they struggled to remove her bags from the trunk. She took a long drag on a thin, menthol cigarette, clutched in between her fingers, showing off manicured nails painted a bright red. Teetering on her kitten heels, she waddled into the castle.

Brooke Mathis was a short, blonde-haired woman in her mid-fifties. She wasn’t fat, but a little on the chunky side. Brooke, a clothing designer, was wearing a vintage style outfit from her own collection. Martin read that she owns a vintage clothing boutique in New York City.

Another car door opened and a young newlywed couple, Jorge and Patti Fosse, fell out. They were holding hands and laughing. Jorge was a young Chinese man of medium height, with black rimmed glasses and spiky black hair. Bonnie had heard that he had invented an app for iPhones. Jorge's wife, Patti, was tall with a slender silhouette. Her perfect skin was highlighted by her long brunette hair that flowed down her back in soft waves. The magazine article Bonnie had read described Patti as being bubbly and bright. In the same article, Jorge described his bride as a young, hot model, still waiting for her big break. In interviews, however, Patti came across as being stupid. Brooke wondered which was true. Was Patti really stupid, or did she only play stupid because she believed that was how models were meant to act?

The second-to-last car pulled up, and Bonnie rushed to get the door. Out stepped Darwin Palmer, a very tall lanky man with a thin pencil mustache and salt & pepper hair. Although he used a cane to walk it was merely for a show of sophistication. Bonnie heard that he worked as a lawyer in a firm he owned, making him a great addition to the group of visitors.

Thank you, my dear. Please watch my baggage, it's a little on the hefty side. Darwin forced a smile as Bonnie struggled with his bags. A respectable gentleman would have offered to help Bonnie, but Darwin just twirled his cane in a gloved hand and smirked. Then he sauntered idly after the others, barely acknowledging the grandeur of his surroundings.

The last guest to arrive was Lillian Darkwood. She stepped out of the town car and glanced up at the enormous castle. It loomed over her, eerie and haunting. Its once smooth stone was pitted and scarred. Black moss protruded from the cracks, like reaching arms, wanting to pull her inside its walls. Lillian had been in other castles, but none had the eerie aura of Whispering Castle. Lillian shivered, not from the damp air, but from the excitement of the possible adventure that lay ahead. During the flight to England, Lillian had researched the castle and discovered it had quite a reputation as a historical landmark with a very dark past.

Lillian smiled shyly at Martin as he grabbed her bags from the trunk. She was a tall, lean woman with dark hair that came to rest between her shoulder blades, and intense green eyes. Although Lillian looked modest, Martin knew she was the opposite. Martin had read Lillian’s Facebook page like he had the others who had one. Lillian was a widow of five years and wasn’t one to shy away from anything. She was a high school teacher, and a young adult mystery author with a deep interest in the paranormal.

Lillian followed Martin into the castle and stood in the vast entrance hall with the other excited guests. Lillian made small talk with two women whom she learned were Modena Parks and Brooke Mathis. As they chatted about who they were and what they did for a living, Lillian admired the grandeur of the entrance hall with a stunning crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the plaster, cathedral style ceiling. The plaster of the dome was hand painted with vivid images of victorious battles. The oak walls displayed large framed paintings of lords and ladies, whom Lillian assumed were the former residents of the castle. Branching off the entrance hall were four corridors; three were open, and one had a wall that appeared to be built more recently than the other walls. The wall was made of dark oak, matching its adjacent walls. But this wall contained a single door painted the same color as the wall, rendering it almost invisible. Lillian found the new wall both odd and mysterious. It was evident the wall was built to hide something that lay beyond, and Lillian was dying to find out what it was. Lillian considered sharing her observations with her new female companions but decided to keep them to herself. She tried to listen intently to Modena chattering on about the black magic novelty shop she used to own in Toronto.

Bonnie reappeared and ushered the guests into the drawing room. Lillian paused outside the entrance to the room as if invisible hands were holding her back. She glanced around the entrance hall as a strange feeling of terror suddenly gripped her. She sensed something was wrong with the castle. Her breath caught in her throat as a feeling of pure evil swept over her.

Are you alright Ms. Darkwood? inquired Bonnie who had come up behind her.

Yes, thank you. I’m fine. Lillian shook the feeling off and joined the others in the drawing room.

There were eleven guests in all. Martin had gone to square away the luggage into the appropriate rooms upstairs. Then he busied himself with the task of preparing dinner for their guests, who were both tired and hungry from their long trip to the castle. Meanwhile, Bonnie set to work pouring drinks for their guests. The drawing room was the perfect place for the guests to continue getting to know one another, while they awaited their first dinner service in the mysterious castle.

Jorge and Patti sipped white wine while holding each other in the cream faux suede chaise. Brooke, dragging on another one of her skinny cigarettes, stood chatting with Darwin, admiring his cane as they enjoyed their glasses of sherry by the window. The brewing storm had arrived, and the window rattled with the pelting of the rain. Cole Blakemore paced in front of the crackling hearth. He took a large swig of his whiskey, emptying the glass for the third time and helping himself to the bottle for more.

Think you need to slow down on the sauce a little bit, bud, said Dan Adams. All that liquor is not good for your health.

Yeah, well, it’s none of your business how much ‘sauce’ I choose to drink, Cole growled, pointing his index finger rudely at Dan. He ran his hand through his red hair and gazed into the hearth, taking a swig of his refreshed drink.

Among the other guests was Helen Pratt, a short, homely young woman in her early twenties. She looked more mature than her age in black dress slacks and a glittery top. Helen sat with the others but didn’t pay any attention to the goings-on. She was too busy bopping her head up and down to the tunes on her iPod as she sipped a glass of Coke on the rocks. Lester Watson, a short chubby factory worker in his late thirties, was dressed in a flannel shirt and baggy blue jeans. Lester seemed out of place as he sat trying to make polite conversation with Modena Parks and Lucy Cox. The three of them were drinking from a pitcher of English Ale that Martin had purchased from a local village.

Lucy was a sophisticated, well-dressed, bleach blonde whose primary goal was to make sad attempts to entertain others. Modena was a heavy Algerian woman as tall as she was broad, with long brown hair and wild, piercing blue eyes. Her father was Algerian, and her mother was white. Her intense blue eyes were a gift from her mother.

Martin announced dinner, and they all followed Bonnie back out into the entrance hall and then up a cold, grey, stone-spiraled staircase to the second floor. Bonnie informed them they would be eating in the great hall, located at the end of the dark corridor past the bedrooms. Lillian thought it was a strange place to have a dining room. She figured the bedrooms probably were used as something else back in the castle's functioning days or perhaps the great hall had been something else back then. The great hall contained three mismatched tables, one round and two oval. Lillian had taken an antiquities course while she was researching a novel many years ago. This certified her to notice none of the tables or chairs came from the same period, nor were they of the same size or wood type. The two oval dining tables featured a sophisticated four-course place setting of expensive antique white china, complete with priceless silver cutlery and crystal glasses. The tables also contained embossed place cards marking the seating arrangement. The third table held their dinner in various covered dishes. Martin had brought all of it up from the kitchen, located on the main floor, with the use of the dumbwaiter. It was there that he completed the prep work in a small storeroom transformed into a makeshift serving room. Hanging over each table was a chandelier, each with twenty white beeswax candles. A fully equipped bar at one end of the room attracted Cole’s attention immediately.

Please sir, take your seat, said Martin, coming up behind Cole as he headed toward the bar with a glass in hand.

What? I want another drink, Cole slurred, staggering.

That’s fine sir, Martin said, pointing to Cole’s seat. I’ll fetch you a drink.

Okay, fine, you do that, Cole mumbled. He slumped heavily into his designated chair and watched as Martin prepared him a drink.

The rest took their seats, noting the unusual seating arrangement. All the women were at one table and all the men at the other. Dinner progressed quickly with polite chitchat as they tried to learn a little about each other. Patti and Jorge kept making mooneyes at each other across the room. They were upset because they had to sit apart.

A modern flat-screen television mounted on the wall opposite the bar flicked on just before coffee and dessert were served. Everyone in the room stopped talking and directed their attention to the mysterious stranger on the screen.

Chapter 3

The mysterious stranger was a sickly looking man hooked to an oxygen tank. He was Caucasian with hair white as fresh snow. The man sat behind a big mahogany desk in a dark wood paneled study. He looked to his right and waved annoyingly at the air like he was swatting flies. Then the man turned back to the camera, licked his chapped lips and started to speak with a thick British accent.

If you are all here that means I, Sir Ronald Wilburton, am deceased. First, I would like to tell you about my castle, which you presently have the honor of visiting. This castle has been in my family for hundreds of years. The very first of my family to live here was a happy young couple named Eugene and Mandy. They were happy and in love just like Patti and Jorge. Both their parents had this castle built as a wedding present with the hope of having the many rooms filled with lots of grandchildren. Unfortunately, Mandy died in childbirth while delivering her second child, a girl. Their first child was a boy, the man paused, coughing profusely. A nurse rushed into view and helped him drink some water and adjust his oxygen. Catching his breath, he waved the nurse away and continued.

As the boy, Henry, grew older he grew to hate his sister Nellie. He blamed her for killing their mother during childbirth. Eventually, the heartbreak of the loss of his one true love became too much for Eugene and he hung himself from one of the rafters in the west wing library. That only gave Henry more reason to loath his sister, Ronald paused to drink a sip of water.

The castle and the children were left to Eugene’s brother, Samuel. He is who I am a descendant of. Samuel took Henry and Nellie and raised them in the castle along with his own six children as if they were his own. The reason I asked my loyal servants, Martin and Bonnie, to invite you all here is to help solve a mystery that has haunted this castle and my family for hundreds of years. Although my family was of noble Catholic blood, we all ended up dying and ending up in hell. Now, I’ve done more than my share of good in the community through various organizations and charities during my life, and I don’t wish to spend eternity in hell because I don’t believe I belong there.

This is just a bunch of bull, yelled Cole in a drunken stupor, waving his hands around and almost falling off his chair. How much more of this ludicrous crap do we have to watch?

Martin paused the video and served Cole a stiff mug of steaming coffee.

I don't want your damn coffee, Cole said, throwing the cup across the room. The liquid barely missed hitting the men sitting nearby, and the mug smashed on the floor in a dozen pieces.

I guess you don’t want a shot at the inheritance, then sir, said Bonnie sternly.

What money? Cole slurred, trying to get up out of his chair to leave.

Sir, if you shut up, drink your coffee and watch the video, then you just might find out, said Martin stiffly, as he served Cole another cup of coffee.

Cole mumbled something under his breath that nobody could understand and Martin turned the video back on.

Sir Ronald Wilburton reappeared on the screen and continued to speak. Henry made a point of making Nellie's life miserable. He did every horrible thing he could think of to her. Then one day, Nellie started a relationship with a mysterious man who everyone believed to be pure evil. He brainwashed and manipulated poor Nellie into murdering her brother. They believed that Henry went out of his third-story bedroom window by force. Nellie told the constabulary that he probably just fell. Although everyone suspected it was Nellie who pushed Henry out the window, nobody could prove it.

"Nellie's relationship with the mysterious evil man continued for several years. They lived together in the west wing. After Nellie's disappearance, the family closed the west wing, and it remains abandoned to this day. It’s unknown if her lover murdered Nellie, but her apparition has been spotted numerous times wandering the corridors in the west wing. The story states that before she disappeared the devil forced her to place a curse on my family members that have lived and will live in the castle, from then into eternity. I also heard that Nellie wrote a letter before she disappeared. The letter explains that she was indeed the Devil's Mistress and that he was to blame for her brother's death and all the other evil things she had done to the family. Nellie held her father solely responsible. She felt his leaving ruined her life. She claimed if it were not for him dying she would never have gotten involved with the devilish man. Nellie claimed the man was there at the right time to help heal her anger and sorrow over the sudden loss of her father.

Your job is to find the Cabinet of Souls hidden somewhere in the west wing and break the spell by releasing the souls of my family from the Soul Jars. My wife died young before bearing me a child because of my infection from the Wilburton curse. Therefore, I regrettably have no children to leave my estate to, and I hold Nellie to blame for that as well. Whoever breaks the curse that has imprisoned my family for hundreds of years so that my family can finally rest in peace in heaven, will be the one to receive my entire estate. Good luck and good health, believe me, you’re going to need it."

Sir Ronald Wilburton disappeared from the screen and silence fell over the room.

I still think this is a bunch of bull crap, said Cole, breaking the long silence. Who in their right mind would want this dingy old castle anyway? It probably has more ghosts and ghouls then I’ve ex-girlfriends, and I went out with lots of loose chicks if you know what I mean, he added with a snicker.

For your information, Sir, this dusty old castle is worth eighty million American dollars, said Martin stiffly. If you or anyone else here is not interested you are welcome to leave at first light. If you wish to stay, you are in it for the duration and are not to leave until the mystery is solved.

But that could take years, whined Brooke. I can’t be here that long, I’ve a business to run.

Then I guess you’ll be the first to leave in the morning? said Bonnie with a smile.

Oh no, I want in on the loot. I’m staying, Brooke shot back.

Martin smirked. We shall leave you alone to give you all time to make your decision. Please feel free to help yourself to the dessert tray or more coffee. Bonnie will come back later to clean up, said Martin.

When you wish to retire for the evening you’ll find all the entrances to the bedrooms labeled in regards to who sleeps where, said Bonnie.

Martin and Bonnie excused themselves to go clean up in the kitchen, leaving the group alone with their thoughts. The group sat quietly sipping coffee and munching on their chosen desserts. Cole helped himself to the bottle of whiskey and perched himself on one of the bar stools.

So, who's staying and who's running away? Cole snickered, flapping his hands like a bird flying. He swayed slightly and eyed the others. Lester wondered if Cole would fall off the stool in his drunken stupor. There was no way he was picking him up off the floor if he did.

I think we should all stay and make a game out of it, Patti said, giggling as she gave Jorge a playful wink.

It’s a game, you stupid woman, grumbled Darwin.

Jorge was going to say something about Darwin’s offensive comment to his woman but Patti shook her head and whispered, Leave it be, in his ear.

I think it’s late and perhaps we should all retire to our rooms to unpack and think. This is a decision we must each make individually in private, Modena suggested in her thick Algerian ascent. Those who wish to leave will not be thought badly of. It’s one's own choice to stay or go. This decision is not a group decision; you must decide what to do on your own.

The others, all except for Cole, agreed and slowly retired to their bedrooms for some privacy with their thoughts.

Chapter 4

Lillian's room had a ten-foot ceiling, which held a massive chandelier that hung in the middle of the room. On the left side of the room was a solid, but elegant walnut canopy bed elaborately dressed with ruffles, ribbons, and drapes forming a canopy around the frame. The bedding was made up of stark white silk linens, embellished with a velvet quilt and lavish ruffles and frilled pillows. There were also two dark-stained walnut chairs, a marble-topped dressing table, and a working stone hearth. Unlike the great hall, all of these furniture pieces were of the same time-period and coordinated. Lillian had the impression that this furniture had been in the palace for a very long time and the room appeared to welcome her arrival.

Branching off the room was a smaller room containing an enormous walnut wardrobe, and two antique drawer stands with marble tops much like the dressing table. Back in castle days, this room was known as the dressing room. Lillian rolled her larger suitcase into the dressing room and proceeded to unpack. Since she didn’t intend to leave the castle anytime soon, Lillian figured it would be best to empty her luggage before sneaking out of her room to explore. The impending adventure that lay before Lillian intrigued her and she wasn’t about to pass it up. It wasn’t the money or the possibility of winning a medieval castle that had captured her interest. It was the possibility of solving the mystery of the curse placed on the Wilburton family via the cabinet of souls, damning them all to hell.

Lillian’s unpacking had moved to the main room. As Lillian set her hairbrush and some other personal items on top of the dressing table, her eye caught something on the oak floor sticking out slightly from underneath the dressing table. Curious, she bent over to retrieve it. It was a corner torn from a sheet of parchment, stained and browned with age. She turned it over and read, March 24, 1842 - To my beloved Nellie.

Hum, Lillian thought, Sir Ronald Wilburton mentioned Nellie in his story. Perhaps this used to be Nellie’s room before she moved to the west wing.  Could this be a letter written to Nellie by the mysterious evil man whom she had a relationship with before her disappearance? The one referred to as the devil? Perhaps it was a clue that would explain what had happened to Nellie. Did Nellie disappear all those years ago or was she murdered, and her body stashed somewhere in the west wing, where she had lived with the mysterious evil man? Finding this small piece of stationery had opened a whole other mystery to solve beyond finding the Cabinet of Souls and breaking the Wilburton curse.

With hopes of finding the rest of the letter, Lillian opened the dressing table drawers one at a time and rifled through them. She found some old jewelry and dried-up makeup in the first two small, upper drawers. Nothing exciting there, thought Lillian. The third drawer contained a photo album with a thick, brown leather cover. Lillian ran her fingers over the embossed cover and two brass clasps before opening it. Inside the front cover was some scrolled writing, which read: To my daughter Nellie, Happy 16th Birthday, Love Dad.

That’s strange. I thought Nellie’s father died long before her sixteenth birthday. Perhaps he had left this album with Samuel to give her on her sixteenth birthday. That would explain how she had gotten it. Lillian shrugged, and proceeded to flip through the book.

Twelve moisture-stained, gilded gold pages containing a few very faded photos of people who were possibly Wilburton family members followed the inscription. Lillian set the album back in the drawer with intentions of revisiting it later to examine the photos more closely.

The last drawer was the one Lillian had been anticipating. Inside was a pile of torn pieces of parchment similar to the scrap she had found on the floor. Lillian grabbed a bunch out of the drawer and laid them on top of the dressing table. She spread them out and turned some of them over to reveal the black ink writing. They appeared to be many torn up letters.

Gee-whiz, this is going to take some time, Lillian muttered, and it would be helpful if I had some tape and something to sort these in.

Lillian remembered that she saw several hatboxes on the shelf in the wardrobe when she was hanging up her blouses earlier. Lillian hadn’t gotten into exploring the wardrobe yet, but she hoped one of the boxes would be empty. Perhaps they would also contain something to help unfold the mystery of what happened to Nellie Wilburton.

Geez, these smell dreadful, she mumbled to the boxes, as she tried not to inhale too much of the stale mildew smell while she set to work being nosey. Lillian opened each hatbox, hoping for it to be empty or contain something worthy of her interest. They all, unfortunately, held nothing but musty, old-fashioned hats. While Lillian investigated the boxes, the overall atmosphere of the room changed. A cold draft swept through the dressing room, and the oil lamp flickered but didn’t turn off. Even though the owner of the belongings was long dead, Lillian had a feeling that someone didn’t like her snooping through their stuff.

So, Nellie, Lillian said to the empty room as she returned the boxes to their rightful places in the wardrobe, was this your room? Are all these torn-up letters yours? Lillian returned to the bedroom and crossed to the dressing table. As she sat down on the crushed velvet seat of the chair, she realized all the scraps of parchment she had left on top of the dressing table were turned upside down by an unseen hand. It was as if someone didn’t want Lillian reading them. What are you trying to hide, Nellie? Is there a dirty little secret hidden in these letters? Nellie, is there something you’re afraid I might discover? Perhaps the answers to your disappearance are hiding in these pages.

A soft knock on her door startled Lillian, rudely interrupting her thoughts. She got up from the dressing table chair and walked to the door. Again someone knocked, louder this time.

Who’s there? asked Lillian, pressing her ear to the door.

Ms. Darkwood, please open the door, a female voice called in a harsh whisper. Ms. Darkwood, its Helen Pratt, please open the door.

Helen? What could she possibly want this time of night? Lillian wondered, opening the door a crack. Helen stood in the corridor still fully dressed. Lillian opened the door further and pleasantly said, Helen, please come in. What is it I can help you with?

Helen looked both ways up and down the corridor before stepping into Lillian's room. It was as if she was afraid someone had followed her. Lillian glanced into the corridor before she closed the door behind Helen, but saw no one. Lillian returned to her seat at the dressing table in an attempt to hide the stuff on top of it. Helen perched on the edge of the dressing bench at the bottom of the bed.

So, what can I do for you, Helen? What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning? Lillian asked curiously.

I’ve a sense you and I are the only two rational people here. Everyone else is a bunch of bumbling idiots. So I was thinking... perhaps we could help each other, Helen said with a shrug. I’ve no interest in this castle aside from the financial gain involved in selling it. That is, after we solve the problem of the curse, of course. I think, with my scientific know-how and your unique ability to unravel mysteries, we would make an excellent team, finished Helen, laying it all on the table.

That’s an interesting proposition, Helen, but I’ven't decided if I'm going to stay or not yet, Lillian lied. How is it you seem to know about me when I know nothing at all about you? Lillian probed. I like to know someone before considering teaming up with them.

I’m surprised you don’t remember me, Ms. Darkwood, said Helen. I was your student five years ago. I was the quiet A student who sat behind Stanley Morrison.

Ah yes, Stanley Morrison. How could I forget the worst class clown I ever had? I think he spent more time with the principal in his office than he did in my class, Lillian laughed. I remember you now, Helen. You were my best student that year, or any year, for that matter. How strange for us to meet again like this. How have you been keeping?

Fine, thank you. I’m in my third year of Biochemistry at Brockdale University. When I’m not studying, I spend all my free time interning for a small, privately funded lab.

It sounds like you’re doing well for yourself. How is it you managed to get sucked into this insanity?

My parents received a letter, Helen said, and I figured since I'm way ahead in all my classes I could afford a little adventure as long as I keep up with my studies in between. Besides, I've always had an interest in studying Parapsychology on the side, continued Helen.

I’ve been studying Parapsychology as a form of research for my mystery novels. Perhaps sometime you would like to borrow some of my texts? responded Lillian, excited that she had something in common with one of her former students. Lillian was pleasantly surprised. Apparently, she had rubbed off on her students more than she had realized.

So, does this mean you agree to our partnership then, Ms. Darkwood?

Yes, I guess we could give it a try, but only if you stop calling me Ms. Darkwood. Please call me Lillian.

Okay, I guess, I can do that, replied Helen, smiling. I’m going to leave now so you can get some sleep.

Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ve a feeling tomorrow is going to be no picnic, agreed Lillian, walking Helen to the door and bidding her goodnight.

Alone again in her room, Lillian returned the torn letters to the dressing table drawer and turned in for the night. Uncovering their secret would have to wait. Perhaps Helen would prove useful to her, in many ways. She would see, once specific trust parameters were established. Lillian hoped to solve more than just the source of the curse. She also wanted to solve the mystery of what happened to Nellie.

Chapter 5

Morning came, and the bedroom doors opened one by one. Excited chatter and an air of suspense filled the air in the corridor while everyone made his or her way to the great hall for breakfast. Martin and Bonnie were both surprised that all the visitors were still present; nobody had chosen to leave. Cole was the last to rise, wearing dark sunglasses to mask his bloodshot, hangover eyes. There were no place cards on the tables this time, so Jorge and Patti sat together whispering and giggling like two crazed lovebirds.

Will you two please give it a rest? I’m liable to barf up my breakfast. Just the sight of that makes me sick, barked Cole, pouring himself a black coffee from the carafe warming on a portable gas burner that sat amongst the spread of toast, muffins, and croissants.

I’m surprised you can eat breakfast after the horrible way you treated your body yesterday, pouring all that poison into it, remarked Dan. He grabbed a low-fat muffin from the basket and sat down beside Lester.

It’s nice to see you all decided to stay for the hunt, said Martin, entering the room. In a moment Bonnie will be handing out a map of the castle and a small knapsack containing some provisions and a flashlight. Please take note of where the west wing is because this is where your adventure begins. Also, take note of the blacked out areas consisting of the east and south wings. Nobody is to enter those wings under any circumstances. If you do, there will be dire repercussions.

What you are going to do Mr. Butler, whip us? laughed Cole.

No, I’ll have you removed from the property immediately, and you’ll have to figure out how to get back home on your dime without our assistance, said Martin sternly. And you’ll kindly call me Martin, not Mr. Butler. Now if nobody else has any smart remarks or questions, I’ll leave you with this. Be sure to carry your map with you at all times. I assure you that it’s not hard to get lost in the many corridors, tunnels, and back passages. I wish you happy hunting and good luck. I hope to see you again at dinner.

Bonnie handed out the maps, and the guests had their first look at how massive the castle was. The structure was four stories high. The west wing was five times larger than the east wing. The drawing room, family history library, great hall, bedrooms, and a wide variety of other places were all located in the north wing. There were some corridors and tunnels inside the walls that were all marked ‘enter at your own risk,’ as they could be dangerous due to improper upkeep. Lillian noticed the south wing wasn’t on the map although Martin had mentioned it. To Lillian, this said, off limits, but please explore me.

Lillian knew there had to be a lot more hidden pathways than were marked on the map. These were the ones she was most interested in discovering as Lillian felt they held the real secrets of the castle. She also had a feeling that the south wing contained the most mystery since it was the only wing blocked off. What were Bonnie and Martin hiding? Or perhaps it was one of the Wilburtons who boarded up the wing because they were the ones with something to hide. Lillian didn’t want anyone to know she had decided to pair up with Helen to increase her chances of accomplishing the required task, plus unveiling all the other secrets as well. Lillian wasn’t sure if Helen would remain on board for the long haul, but if she were genuinely interested in parapsychology, she would most definitely be up for all of it.

The remainder of breakfast progressed in an eerie silence as each contestant mulled over their map and planned their strategy of exploration. Yesterday Lucy had been trying to hit up Dan to collaborate with her. She was very skittish and wasn’t into combing through cobwebs to battle ghosts and curses. It was apparent that Dan had finally warmed up to the idea, possibly in exchange for the occasional sexual favor, if Lucy did that kind of thing. Either way, they sat close together while examining the map, talking tactics in muffled whispers.

Cole had foolishly left his map on the dining table and wandered off towards the west wing with a newly opened pack of cigarettes and a fresh bottle of whiskey. There was no secret to where he went; all you had to do was follow the smoke trail he left in his wake. Against Dan’s wishes, Lucy left his side to chase after Cole to give him the map but when she turned the corner into the west wing Cole was already gone from sight.

Brooke had also gotten up without planning her search and disappeared into the west wing alone. She presumed it best to stick to the main corridors to avoid risking breaking any of her expensively manicured nails. Slowly the others left for the west wing as well. Patti and Jorge were too busy exchanging spit samples with each other to strategize or look at their maps.

Lillian nodded to Helen, and they both left to do their planning in the drawing room on the main floor. Lillian spread her map out onto the closest table and they both hunched over it.

So, here's what I'm thinking, Lillian started. I think the others will probably start their investigation in the main corridors. I suggest we begin with what is not easily visible, the hidden corridors behind the walls. I’ve a feeling there are a lot more than what’s showing on this map. However, I think we should start with the hidden corridors marked on this map. That way we may get lucky in finding the corridors nobody knows about, or Martin and Bonnie don't want us to find. Either way, I think the answers we seek lies behind the walls, in the corridors and tunnels. What do you think, Helen?

Well, actually I was thinking the same thing last night when I came to see you, Helen pointed out. The answers are always hidden in the undiscovered and never in plain sight.

I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page. Now we all we have to do is find the entrance to our first corridor. This map only shows where the discovered ones are, Lillian said, pointing at the map. What it doesn’t say is how to get to them. There must be an entrance somewhere.

Perhaps Bonnie or Martin would be able to assist us with that? Helen suggested.

I doubt that, replied Lillian, shaking her head. She folded the map and jammed it in her jeans pocket. Come on, we can find it ourselves.

Chapter 6

Lillian and Helen made their way down the corridor to the entrance hall. It was darker and eerier than they remembered it from the evening before, but the girls didn’t let it frazzle them. Off the entrance hall was a grand, black marble staircase that spiraled upwards, reaching to each floor of all four wings. Lillian looked up and marveled at how each landing appeared to circle the grand entrance for each of the four stories. It was beautiful, yet felt sinister. Lillian tore her eyes away from the sight and started up the staircase. Lillian was halfway up to the second floor when she realized Helen was no longer with her.

Helen, are you coming? Lillian asked in a harsh whisper. You’re not afraid, are you?

No, of course not, Helen whispered back in the same tone Lillian used. Somehow she had slipped past Lillian unnoticed and was standing on the second landing rubbing her hands over the stones of the wall. Look at the wall here, it's uneven as if some of the stones had been added later or moved at some point.

Lillian walked up to where Helen was and examined the wall herself. She pushed her hands on the individual stones, unsure of what she was searching for, and then suddenly one of the rocks gave way and slid inward slightly.

Lillian, look, gasped Helen, as some more of the stones slide inward slightly, revealing the shape of a door.

Yes, I see it! Lillian answered excitedly as she glanced around quickly to be sure nobody else had witnessed their discovery. They could hear voices from a distance, but nobody