LUCAS THRASHED INSIDE himself. No. He watched himself go through motions he couldn’t control. No! he screamed, but the sound never made it past the space between his skull and his brain, it never reached his throat. He fought to break free. This isn’t happening! And yet, despite his panic, his heartbeat was steady. Even his pulse was no longer his.
Jeanie’s hair spilled to the floor in easy waves of gold. He smoothed his fingers across her forehead, staring down at his little girl as her eyes rolled back into her head. Lucas’s fingers, Jeff’s fingers, squeezed the cross held fast in his hand. So hard it cut into his palm. Strange how he had stared at it only hours before, wondering what it would feel like to stab something so blunt into the side of his own neck. He had begun to wonder if that’s why Jeff had given him the cross in the first place—to repeat what Schwartz had done in his jail cell. Because this house had become Lucas’s prison. Maybe his blood was supposed to soak into the rug where Audra Snow’s blood had spilled so many years ago.
But now he understood. Jeff didn’t intend for Lucas to kill himself. Hell, he hadn’t ever meant for Lucas to write a book about him at all.
I’ve taken a liking to your method . . . your ability to bring the past to life—to resurrect it, if you will.
Jeffrey hadn’t been speaking figuratively in his letter, and he hadn’t been referring to Lucas’s writing. Jeff Halcomb had known that he’d be taking his own life as soon as he knew Lucas was the right man for the job. Jeffrey needed a vessel for his own disembodied soul, and Lucas was the perfect host.
And Jeanie? How had Jeffrey known about her? Caroline had expressed her worry about Lucas noting that he lived in New York with his wife and young daughter on the biography page that appeared at the end of his books. Who knows what kind of weirdos are out there, she’d mused. But even if Jeff had known about Jeanie, how could he have been sure Lucas would bring her to Pier Pointe? How would he guarantee himself a sacrifice?
That’s what Echo was for.
Echo must have been going back and forth between Jeffrey and Lucas. Jeffrey probably suggested the box of photographs himself. It’s why she had appeared so conveniently, just in time to keep Lucas from packing up again and hitting the road. Jeff had told her to leave the cross at the front desk. Echo had never been there to help, never been there as a friend.
Dad, what if he makes you do something?
Lucas had been arrogant. Had underestimated Jeffrey Halcomb’s power.
Those people that died? They probably didn’t think they were gullible, either.
He had been desperate to believe his luck had turned. He had allowed blind faith to draw him forward, to pull him to this very place.
Fighting against Halcomb’s movements, his right arm rose over his head at half speed. A shout of defiance lodged in his throat, Jeff’s throat, as they stared down at the girl draped across their knee.
You are Lucas Graham! Lucas screamed the mantra inside his own head, desperate to shake free of Jeffrey’s hold. You can do anything!
Anything but provide for your family, Jeff reminded him.
Your failures are only failures in your mind!
And in Caroline’s mind. In your daughter’s mind.
You will only succeed if you believe you deserve it!
What you deserve is to be punished, Lou, for what you’ve put your daughter through. This is your punishment. You lose, Lucas. Only God wins in this house.
“Don’t worry,” he heard himself say. “I’ll finish your book. That’s all you really wanted out of this anyway, right?”
Jeffrey Halcomb’s word was his bond. He had promised Lucas a story, and a story Lucas would get.
“Death is the beginning of eternity,” Jeff whispered.
His arm swung down.
Lucas screamed inside himself.
The cross sank deep into the flesh of Jeanie’s abdomen. Warm blood bubbled out from between his fingers as she bucked against his knee.
Lucas wailed. Thrashed. Used up the last of his energy to break through. But rather than overcoming that strange, involuntary existence, Jeanie began to fade. The walls of the house began to shiver.
She’s becoming a ghost, he thought. She’s dying.
Death was clear. The blood that soaked Jeanie’s shirt was assurance of that. But it wasn’t she who was fading—it was Lucas’s vision that was blurring. He was the one who was disappearing. Because Jeff already had a soul. He certainly didn’t need two.
Blood poured onto the floor.
And what about the others?
Who cares about the others?
The dead, lying motionless around them, began to open their eyes as though waking from a long, lucid dream.
All of them save for two.
Echo remained where she had fallen, motionless, unbreathing, unneeded. Jeanie’s breathing continued to waver as she bled out. For the chosen one to live, some had to die.
“Death brings life,” Jeff said. Lucas tried to yell again, but he couldn’t. He was too tired. Exhausted. Heavy.
“Life brings death brings life.” A girl’s voice—Jeanie? No, it was unfamiliar, joined by another, by a third. There were eight people in total, all sitting up now, all crawling toward the center of the circle they had made. Their hands pressed into the blood that pooled beneath Jeanie’s limp and supine frame. They smeared bloody fingers across their faces and throats, tasting new life as it poured from their sacrificial lamb.
Jeffrey didn’t look away from the dying girl in his lap, but he did smile. He couldn’t help it as the sound of laughter filled the room.
Joyous. Happy.
They believed that they too were alive, just like him, able to wander beyond the walls of the house. But how does one wander without a body to do it with?
They thought everything was just as Jeff had promised.
Because they were desperate. Sad and reckless like they’d always been. Disaffected, rejected, toeing the edge of insanity with their boundless, teetering hopes. They had trusted Jeff to fix it all, to mend their broken lives.
And so had Lucas Graham.
NORTHWEST NEWS 1 TRANSCRIPT