O’Toole House Chapter 19
Gabriella knew not to expect much when she got to the Foundation headquarters in Boston the next day. When she got back to headquarters the day before, Amelia told her that she’d spoken to McGovern and he could get her into the archives in the morning. It was the only opportunity they had within the next week, so Gabriella agreed.
The schedule had taken some negotiating. It was Madelyn’s last shift before she left for Brazil, but she offered to come in early. Then Elliot had actually offered to stay a little bit later on his shift in order to allow Gabriella to go. She knew it was mostly because he felt bad about what happened over comms the other day, but she wasn’t going to refuse the offer.
So now here she was in Boston yet again, looking up at the intimidating building that she already knew she hated. Parking here was surprisingly simple. She just went into the little lot behind the building and as she’d parked, she’d look out over the highway, remembering when James had been out here for an equally horrifically managed task.
How much of that case and its aftermath had contributed to his breakdown? She wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer to that.
There was snow falling as she walked into the main headquarters of the Foundation. Not much, but enough to send an unpleasant little chill down the back of her neck that wasn’t just the idea of being here. She really didn’t want to be here. The last time was bad enough. This time, she had a vague promise that she could get into the archives and find the parts of O’Toole’s history that weren’t included in the Foundation’s writeup of the case. And the archives were going to be a mess, so once she actually managed to get into them, she would probably have to hunt down what she was looking for.
But first she had to go to McGovern’s office so he could get her in there. Which might be the hardest part of all of this.
Gabriella walked through the elegant front hallway, all gleaming marble and horrifying oil paintings. Then up the stairs, to the much less elegant hallways full of offices. He’d given her his office number and she had it on her phone as she went down the hallway, pausing for just a second at a large picture window. The snow was piling up on the windowsill, slightly concealing the Zakam Bridge beyond. She took just a second to admire the view before continuing down the worn hallway.
When she knocked on the door labeled Branch Liason, her heart was hammering. She’d be polite. They didn’t need to be friends, she didn’t need to forgive him. Even if he was just one part of this. Gabriella was perfectly capable of hating the entire thing. She just needed to be professional.
The door opened and McGovern smiled at her. “Gabriella, hi.”
“Hi.”
He looked at her for a second, almost startled, and she wondered what exactly it was. She and James shared a somewhat strong resemblance, so maybe it was that. Or maybe he was just nervous. Which she was alright with.
“How was the drive?” he asked as he beckoned her into the room.
“Fine.”
Under the lights in his office, she could see McGovern really didn’t look all that great. His suit didn’t fit right, hanging awkwardly off his large frame in places. He just looked tired. And yeah, definitely awkward and guilty.
“So you’re here for archive access,” McGovern said, picking up a printed form. “For that, you’ll just need to sign a release.”
“A release for what?”
“Just a form they want everyone to sign now that there are no archivists on duty. Saying you’ll care for the books and follow instructions.”
That was really vague and the longer she looked at the equally vague instructions on the form in front of her, the more tense McGovern seemed. “So I sign this and they can tell me to do anything they want?” Gabriella asked.
“They only mean in regards to the archives.”
The form didn’t mention the archives at all. “I don’t know about that,” she said, glancing out the single window in McGovern’s office at the snow coming down.
“Gabriella, we really don’t have a lot of time. So if you’ll just sign it, we can go downstairs and get you what you need.”
“Right, let me just sign it without reading it,” she snapped, surprising herself. “That always works out so well.”
McGovern looked shaken and she fought the urge to apologize. “I’m going to call Amelia,” she said, taking out her phone. “I get it, but…”
Gabriella’s gut was screaming at her not to sign this paper. She took a picture of it just before McGovern pulled it back and put it in his drawer. “We can deal with it later,” he said. “Come on, let’s go down and get what you need.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she knew what she needed. O’Toole definitely, then maybe anything about demon deals, though Father McEnerney and Rosa both had some information there. But she had dodged whatever that form was, so she just followed McGovern out of the office and over to the elevator.
“How is James?” he asked once they were alone in the elevator.
“He’s okay.”
“I want you to know I understand my role in what happened and-”
“Listen,” Gabriella interrupted, turning to face him. “I know you have a horrible job, James has told me enough about what you have to deal with. And you didn’t intend to hurt him. But he got hurt, really bad. And I don’t know if he’s actually going to recover from it. But I’m not the one who deserves any kind of explanation. He does, on his terms and when he’s ready.”
She’d never spoken to a higher-up like that before. Was it really less than two years ago she’d followed Robin into the woods without voicing a single concern? But then she remembered James’s desperate grip on her, like Gabriella was the only thing holding him to the world.
And then the way he’d sat frozen at the bottom of the supply closet. And the little gasping noises he kept making. Gabriella had thought he was dying. She’d been waiting for Jolene to say he was having a heart attack too, that he was dead.
Because the Foundation had threatened layoffs if he didn’t get this case done immediately and on their terms. Then removed the security that could have prevented this from happening.
“Of course,” McGovern said quickly. “Sorry, you’re right.”
The elevator doors opened as her phone buzzed with a text. She pulled it out now, knowing she was about to lose service.
AMELIA
Checking in. Please respond.
She texted back quickly, just saying she’d arrived and nothing to report yet. Another drab hallway later and they were at the entrance to the archives. Unlike last time, the check-in desk just outside the archives door was dark and empty. Everything that had been on it had been cleared away and she was pretty sure they were using the area for storage. Large, lumpy shadows rose in the darkness beyond the desk and Gabriella couldn’t identify what they might be.
Super creepy, even for the Foundation.
McGovern went behind the desk and opened a small cabinet. After a few tries, he found the right key and brought her into the archives.
Which were also a mess. So many folders and books that were at least three hundred years old were just stacked on the ground and the tables. Just inside, a Dunkin Donuts iced coffee cup melted on a bookshelf just inches from a set of reference books.
“I’m going to leave you to it,” McGovern said. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. But I’ll be back down in about an hour and we’ll see from there.”
Gabriella was staring at the coffee. That condensation was going to drip all over the shelf and cause water damage if it wasn’t cleaned up. Part of her wanted to go wipe it up right now, but she had her own things to do.
McGovern left and Gabriella took a second to get situated. She set her bag on the table, ignored the coffee, and looked at the long outdated map of the different sections before walking down the narrow aisles to where O’Toole’s information should be.
Records had been merged with the archives for the time being, so it was a happy surprise to see a folder with copies of both her and Father McEnerney’s notes on the case, along with what the Foundation researcher, long since laid off, had been able to dig up too.
There were a few articles from local newspapers, printed off the internet. A blog post about the Fitchburg Demon House. A few mentions of it on social media, all with the same general facts but enough differences to be of note. Then a printout of a 1942 newspaper article about a deadly fire on Pritchett Street, ignited by rags soaked in kerosene under the rug in the front hallway.
Gabriella shuddered and took a picture. James would have something to say, and maybe it would be worth having the fight with Bradley someday. But she was too tired to stir it up again right now. Even if she had had the phone service necessary to send the picture to him.
She flipped through to the O’Toole House’s property transfer notice. It had been transferred to the care of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts after the recent death of…Duncan O’Toole. To be transferred to his heirs when they were found.
She looked at the date. This was less than ten years ago. But no, that was accurate. Death of Duncan O’Toole from natural causes at the age of ninety-seven. Property included a house in Fitchburg and a notebook.
And the notebook was right here as well.
Gabriella brought the notebook back to her table and flipped to the first page. It was a ritual of some kind and after taking a moment to decipher it, she was able to understand that it was supposed to be a summoning. So he was diving right into it from Page One. She took a picture, then turned the page to see another ritual.
She continued flipping through the different summonings and lists of materials in his home, yard, and root cellar until she reached a set of nearly blank pages. Then there was a draft of his will, signed about eight years before his death and marked in Anchorage, Alaska. So not only had he not been eaten by demons, he’d fled the state and ended up thousands of miles away. She took a picture of that too.
Would they miss this notebook if it was gone? Then she spotted the note, edited and scribbled out in places, but legible and written on fairly new notebook paper.
To my relatives,
The house is yours, but beware of the demons. I summoned them, but I don’t know if it worked and I’m too afraid in my old age to go back and see.
Another picture. Then her original research notes, clipped together in a neat pile of photocopies. Then an update from Father McEnerney saying he’d found no evidence of demonic activity, but cleansed it anyway. Case marked closed.
Then Sarah Bana filed a case at the same location several months later. It was marked medium priority and arrived at the North Worcester County Branch, where it was signed off on by Captain James McManus approximately a month and a half ago to enter the scheduling queue.
She felt silly brushing her fingers over the copy of his signature, but caught herself doing it anyway before she started taking pictures again.
“What are you doing?”
The voice behind her was loud and angry and Gabriella let out a tiny scream as she spun around. A man was standing in the doorway. He was thin and red-faced, with a frown and the bushiest eyebrows she’d ever seen.
“Researching for a case,” she said. “Mr. McGovern knows that I’m here.”
“And did he say you can take pictures of private property?”
Technically no, but he hadn’t said not to. “There’s no photocopier,” she said.
“You’re not supposed to take any pictures!” the man snapped. “Let me see your release form.”
Shit. “Release form?” she asked innocently.
“The form you’re supposed to sign before you come down here. You didn’t sign it?”
“Was there one about the archives?” Gabriella asked, keeping her voice sweet and non-threatening as her eyes strayed back up to his eyebrows.
“Listen,” the man said, stepping closer to her. “Delete the photos and sign the form and we’ll forget this happened.”
“I can delete them, but then I have to go back and write everything out,” Gabriella said. “But I’ll do that.”
“The archives close in ten minutes.”
“But sir-”
“Delete the photos, sign the release, and be on your way. You can come back another day if you’re willing to follow the rules.”
“What’s going on?”
McGovern was here now, coming in behind the eyebrow man. “Did you say she could take pictures?” the man demanded.
McGovern looked at Gabriella, who stood up. It didn’t make her even close to either of their heights, but it helped. “Not specifically,” he said. “But that was never an issue before, so-”
“And she doesn’t have a signed release. Why would you let her down here?”
“We were going to discuss that with her captain,” McGovern said. “Since it didn’t mention-”
“She needs it before she comes down here. Come on, Richard. You know that.”
The man turned back to Gabriella. “What’s your name?”
“Gabriella McManus, sir.”
The eyebrow man glared hard at her for a second and there was something more than disapproval in his eyes. If she was standing somewhere more ominous than the archives of a non-profit organization – even one as haunted as the Foundation – she’d swear it was hate.
“Delete the photos, sign the form, and then leave.”
If she deleted the photos, she’d still have what she remembered and her few scrappy notes, but they’d lose a lot of detail. “Sir-” she started.
“Young lady, you’re not leaving this room until I see that those photos are deleted.”
The sudden anger was so hot that it almost knocked her backward. “Excuse me?”
“You’re deleting those photos and signing the form or you will be written up.”
Gabriella had never been written up before. Hell, she’d barely ever even gotten a disapproving glance from James, let alone any of the higher-ups. But this man was looming over her with his furious eyes and wild eyebrows, even as McGovern tried to get between them.
“Harding, I can take care of this.”
“You shouldn’t have even let her down here if she didn’t sign the form, Richard,” the man – Harding – said. “The pictures. Now.”
There was no way anything had uploaded to her cloud storage while she’d been down here. But she wasn’t going to get out without deleting them, so she reluctantly took out her phone, highlighted the twenty photos she’d taken, and hit Delete. Harding watched expectantly, so she went into the recently deleted file and deleted them permanently.
“Good,” Harding said. He motioned toward the O’Toole materials. “Richard, how about you get these back where they belong while Ms. McManus and I wrap up here.”
He wasn’t going to hurt her. He was an ego-driven man with power in this institution, but nowhere else. It was all bluster. But he was between Gabriella and the door. And the same instincts that told her not to sign the form were now telling her not to follow him anywhere.
“Come to my office and sign the release, then you can go.”
“I’m not signing it.”
Her voice hadn’t shook. James would be proud of her, her voice hadn’t shook.
“Excuse me?”
“I said I’m not signing it!” Gabriella exclaimed. “It doesn’t say anything about the archives, it just says that while I’m in this building I’ll do whatever I’m instructed to do and the Foundation isn’t held responsible if I’m hurt. That has nothing to do with anything in the archives. I want to speak to my captain before I sign it.”
“But you’re already down here.”
“I gave her permission,” McGovern said.
“Yes, and we’ll discuss that when we’re done here,” Harding told him. “Young lady, you have two options. Either you sign the release form and we both move on with our days, or I write you up for trespassing and insubordination.”
“I’m not trespassing! I have permission to be here.”
“She does.”
“Stay out of it,” Harding snapped at McGovern. Then he turned back to Gabriella. “It’s your choice.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Then I’m filling out the forms as soon as I get to my office. They will go to your captain, he will see how you behaved here today, and your decision will be permanently on your record.”
He was right. Even if it was bullshit, it was never coming off. James’s original appeal against the false write up from Robin was still in process. “Fine,” Gabriella said, then picked up her bag and walked out of the archives.
Nobody followed her out and as the elevator doors closed behind her, she nearly collapsed on her shaking legs. She was being written up. No, not just that. She had a disciplinary action on her record.
Apparently she could join the fucking club.
When she got to the ground floor, she didn’t stop moving until she was out the door on the cold, busy Boston street. And she didn’t stop to take out her phone until she was in her car, off of Foundation property, and sitting in a tiny gas station parking lot nearby.
She texted Amelia.
GABRIELLA
Leaving Boston now. I need to talk to you when I get back.
***
When Gabriella got to headquarters, she was still shaking and the horrible traffic on the way back didn’t help. She got out of her car, slammed the door a little too hard, and stomped up the stairs and into the building.
It was quiet inside. “Hello?” she called as she walked up the stairs into the living room. “Amelia?”
“Hang on!”
Amelia and Madelyn came down the hallway. Amelia was clearly attempting to look stern, but lost it the second she saw Gabriella. “What the fuck happened?” she demanded through her laughter.
“Oh my God,” Gabriella moaned, sitting down heavily on the chair in the living room. “You’re going to get an email about me.”
“I already got an email about you,” Amelia said, sitting on the couch. “Trespassing? What the fuck?”
“I know!” Gabriella said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “He wanted me to sign this release form, but look at it!”
She pulled out her phone with a shaking hand, found the picture she’d taken in McGovern’s office, then handed it to Amelia. “What…” Amelia started, zooming in on the picture.
“McGovern said I could talk to you about it before I sign anything, but the other guy said I had to sign it or I’d be considered trespassing.”
“Yeah, don’t sign this,” Madelyn said, reading it over Amelia’s shoulder. “They tried to get me to sign similar things after my surgery last year.”
Gabriella remembered Madelyn calling them in tears about the harassment over her sick time, and the quiet way James had talked her down before tearing someone apart over the phone about it. “And I got in trouble for taking pictures of the information about O’Toole,” Gabriella said. “Which has never been an issue before. Even McGovern said this was wrong.”
“Spine of steel,” Amelia muttered, handing Gabriella back her phone. “Listen,” she said. “We can appeal the disciplinary action, but it won’t do any good. It’ll go into the queue and get lost forever.”
“Whatever,” Gabriella muttered.
“Other option,” Amelia continued. “You sign it, it goes in your file. They tell me to give you some kind of discipline. And we say I did because I’m way too fucking tired to punish you right now.”
Madelyn snorted as she sat down beside Amelia. “Unbelievable,” she said. “This fucking place.”
Gabriella’s phone rang and she looked down to see Bradley’s name on the screen. “Oh, Bradley just checked his email,” Amelia said.
Gabriella answered. “Hello?”
“What the fu-”
He, too, couldn’t get the question out before he started laughing. And then she was laughing too.
***
After she’d taken a few minutes to cool off, get what she remembered into a notebook, and have a cup of tea, Gabriella opened her email. Sure enough, there was a copy of the disciplinary form in there as well. But there was also an email from Richard McGovern, arriving from a non-Foundation email address.
Gabriella,
Download this to your phone or personal device.
Regards,
Richard McGovern
She was on her phone already, so she clicked on the file he’d sent, hoping he hadn’t accidentally sent her a virus. But no, a gallery of thirty images, from Duncan O’Toole’s notebook and case file opened instead.
