O’Toole House Chapter 7
The next morning, Gabriella and Bradley were on their way back over to the O’Toole House. She drove this time, taking the back roads to avoid construction while Bradley went through some of the readings they’d gotten.
“They’re a mess,” he said for the fourth or fifth time since she’d arrived that morning. “None of this shit makes sense.”
“These are just the cellar readings?” she asked.
“No, it’s everything together,” he replied. “The cellar readings aren’t as ridiculous, there’s enough hallmarks of demonic activity that I’m not concerned about them. But the first floor readings are either absolutely nothing or these spikes that almost blew out the sensors. And just from what we have on the cameras right now, it felt like I was watching some cheesy horror movie. Blood dripping on the walls, shadows moving through the room, laughter. It was ridiculous.”
“Which lines up with the case,” Gabriella said as someone cut her off before moving into the other lane. She laid on the horn and gave the kid the finger as he shrugged, then looked away from her as they approached the red light.
“Were there any signs of demonic activity at the house after O’Toole disappeared?” Bradley asked her.
“I don’t know,” she admitted as the light went green. “So-” The kid weaved into her lane and she hit the brakes before starting up again. “I’m going to fucking kill whoever this is,” she muttered. “Um, there’s not a lot out there about him after that. Or the house. It didn’t get sold again until last year.”
“It just sat empty?”
“Yeah. Maybe because he went missing? Maybe it was a long legal thing.”
“Eighty-plus years is a long legal thing,” Bradley muttered as he looked back down at the printouts. “Who owned it during that time?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, glaring at him as he raised an annoyed eyebrow. “I’m going to go back today, but I barely got a chance to even look at any research yesterday. The Banas bought it from flippers who bought it just under a year ago. This was three months after I was researching the house, so it must have been right after Father McEnerney was out there. But I need to find out who sold it to the flippers. It’s weird it took them eighty years to find someone to inherit it, but I guess that isn’t completely impossible if he didn’t have family around here.”
They passed by her house shortly after and she wondered if she’d remembered to turn off the fan by her bed. Then they pulled up outside the Banas’ house a minute later. As they walked up the small walkway, Gabriella looked around the property. “I wonder if O’Toole did anything weird with the yard,” she mused. “Maybe the magic he pulled was concentrated there and the cellar and it’s just kind of leaking upstairs, spilling forth demons.”
“Maybe.”
Bradley looked angry, at least until he took a sip of water from his water bottle before putting it carefully back into his bag.
“If you’re sick, you should go home,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“If you get me sick, I’m going to-”
“I’m fucking fine.”
Anything she was about to say in return was interrupted by the front door opening. “Come on in,” Sarah Bana said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” Bradley said, ignoring Gabriella as they went into the house.
They followed Sarah into the kitchen again. “The activity the cameras picked up was pretty severe,” Gabriella said.
“I know,” Sarah replied. “I came home early to be here when you arrived and I saw the mess in the pantry. Nick was here earlier, but it must not have happened yet.”
Or he ignored that too. “Did you clean it up?”
“No,” she replied, motioning toward the small pantry off of the kitchen.
Gabriella looked inside. There were food packages all over the floor, the shelves nearly empty as their contents had flung themselves into a pile on the ground. The ceiling and top shelves were spattered in something sticky and red. At first glance, it looked like blood, but the room didn’t smell like it at all.
“That’s not blood,” she said.
“No, it is,” Bradley muttered, straining to see onto the shelf. “It’s just dried out. I said I saw it dripping on the cameras.”
That was embarrassing. But at least she hadn’t touched it to try to identify it. “We won’t stay long,” Gabriella said. “But we’ll take some pictures and in a little while, one of us will call to let you know our next steps.”
“Are you staying at a hotel nearby?” Bradley asked.
“Yeah, just over in Leominster.”
“We’ll see what we can do about getting it reimbursed. Did your representative explain that process?”
“She said not to hold our breath.”
“Those exact words?” Gabriella asked.
“Yeah.”
Great. James was going to love to hear that. No, not James. Amelia. This was going to be Amelia’s problem.
“Were you aware that the home had a bit of a reputation when you bought it?” Gabriella asked.
Sarah sighed. “No,” she admitted. “But I’ll be honest, buying it was mostly Nick’s idea. He’s been really adamant that we needed to buy a house and I didn’t really share his urgency. I mean, yeah, if you can, do it. But he found this one on the market and I was fine with it, so he managed everything. I’m sure he would have let me help, but I’m working and in the middle of my masters degree, so I just kind of didn’t.”
Maybe Nick had known? But why would he go for it anyway?
“Mom?”
The girl from the other day, Melissa, was in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a gymnastics jacket with her hair in a tight bun. Her eyes moved up toward the blood on the ceiling, then she looked cautiously at Gabriella and Bradley. “Hey, honey,” Sarah said. “You can go outside if you want, I’ll drop you off in a little while once we’re done talking.”
“I want to talk to them too.”
Bradley and Gabriella exchanged a look. “Honey…” Sarah started.
“Can I please, Mom?”
Sarah looked hesitant, which was strange considering she was the one who wanted this done. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s go sit down.”
“Can I talk to them alone?”
Sarah hesitated again. “I can take her,” Gabriella said softly. “If you’re alright with that.”
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “Um, okay. Thank you.”
“Where do you want to go?” Gabriella asked Melissa.
“Outside?”
She left Sarah and Bradley in the pantry as she followed Melissa out of the house and into the small backyard. It was somewhat unkempt, with uneven ground and dead plants scattered everywhere, but there was a small patio with a few chairs and a table along the back wall of the house.
“What do you want to tell me?” Gabriella asked her as they sat down.
Now that they were alone, Melissa looked frightened. Gabriella watched the girl try to get her thoughts in order as a cold wind cut across the yard. “I’m really scared of it,” Melissa said finally.
“Tell me about it.”
“It talks to me,” she said. “Not, like, a conversation or anything. But it wants to mess with me. It calls me names.”
“Can you tell me what kinds of names?”
Melissa glanced toward the house, then lowered her voice. “Whore,” she said. “Bitch. It says some sex stuff too.”
She was twelve years old. “Thank you for trusting me with that,” Gabriella said. “Do you…do you think you’re in danger?”
“Dad says I’m not.”
“So your dad knows what’s happening?”
“Kind of? He says maybe I’m imagining things.”
She was imagining the same demon as her mother. Right. “Have either of your parents heard these things at the same time as you?”
“Mom has. That’s why we’re at the hotel. Dad’s really mad about it, but she insisted. She doesn’t usually insist, so he must have realized she meant it.”
“Do you have any idea what could be happening?”
She didn’t actually expect the twelve year old to know, but it was a good way to get kids to open up, she was realizing. Melissa thought for a second, shivering. “No,” she said. “It started here, so maybe it’s something that was already here.”
“So there was nothing before this?”
“Nope.”
“Why is your dad so angry?”
“He said there’s nothing going on and nothing we should worry about. He’s wrong though. I’m scared of being here.”
No wonder they were outside. Gabriella would want to spend as little time as possible here too. “We’re going to figure out what’s going on, alright?” Gabriella said. “I know it’s scary and I can’t make promises. But we’re going to figure it out and do our best to get rid of it completely.”
“Thank you,” Melissa said, so quietly that Gabriella almost didn’t hear her.
Gabriella followed her back into the house a moment later. They went into the kitchen, where Bradley and Sarah were sitting at the table. As she got closer, Bradley noticed her and stood up.
“We’ll make our plan and talk to you later today,” he said. “Thank you for talking to us.”
He hurried out the door, moving past Gabriella. “We’ll call,” she said.
“Thank you,” Sarah said as Melissa sat beside her, moving her chair as close as possible to her mother’s.
Gabriella hurried out too. Bradley was in the passenger seat and she got in the driver’s side. “The kid had some info,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Are you about to puke in my car?”
“No.”
Lies. “It’s directing this shit at her,” Gabriella said as she turned the car on and Bradley slumped against the passenger window. “Dad’s telling her she and Mom are making it up, but the demon is really targeting her.”
“Asshole’s pretty insistent on ignoring it.”
“Yeah.”
They turned a corner and went a couple more blocks toward downtown. “Hey, my house is right here,” Gabriella said. “You want a water bottle or something?”
“I have one.”
Bradley was sitting up now, looking at something on his phone. Once again, he was completely fine before they were even out of the neighborhood. “So there’s demonic energy in the house,” she said. “We can confirm that.”
“It could still be something mimicking it.”
“I doubt it. Did you throw up there?”
“No.”
“Did you come close to throwing up?”
“No.”
“Did you look like shit and make me think you were going to throw up, fall over, and die in that bloody pantry? I’ll answer that one. Yes. Because of the demonic energy in the house.”
“There’s no actual reason why I’d get sick from demonic energy and you wouldn’t,” Bradley snapped.
“No, I think there’s one big reason.”
“McManus,” Bradley said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not psychic, no matter what you all seem to think. Psychics – real psychics – are incredibly rare. Some asshole from Marblehead is just not going to be a real psychic.”
“Why not?” Gabriella asked. “It has to be someone. Why not some absolute fucking asshole from Marblehead?”
Bradley rolled his eyes and scowled, then turned and looked out the window. They were silent until she pulled onto the highway. “You’re getting sick from the house,” Gabriella said. “It’s obvious. One of the psychics they hired claimed it was happening to them, but Sarah wasn’t sure.”
“It’s not happening to me either.”
“So then you have the flu. Great. I’ll drop you off at home.”
“Gabriella-” he started, but she waved him off.
“No,” she snapped. “It’s something. And I doubt you just have some weird flu that only pops up in my neighborhood. So the other option is that-”
“If I was fucking psychic, don’t you think I would have been able to help James sooner?” Bradley demanded.
Gabriella nearly stopped the car in the left lane at his harsh tone. “I didn’t know,” he continued, still angry. “I knew he was acting weird, but I didn’t know she was controlling him. I didn’t know, I thought he was being a dick because he was stressed or had some personal shit going on. And I have no idea where the fuck she is now, so it’s not like I can help with that either. So either I’m not psychic, like I keep fucking telling all of you, or I missed it. What kind of psychic does that make me if I don’t know that something that horrible is happening to someone I care about?”
The car was silent for a second. “Psychic, but not omniscient?” Gabriella suggested. “Believe it or not, you don’t actually know everything?”
She was a little relieved when he gave a short, bitter laugh instead of yelling at her again. “Fuck you,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this done.”
***
The next night, Gabriella knocked on James’s door after work. Once again, it was a surprise when the door opened. This time, her cousin Angie was standing there.
Angie’s long blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, choppy pieces falling around her face. She had her usual heavy makeup on, but was otherwise low-key. Even her clothes were simple, jeans and a tight green t-shirt.
“Gabbie,” she said, with surprise on her face. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just stopping by to check in with James,” she said.
“Hey, Gabs.”
James’s voice was soft, but not as lost as it had been recently. She walked inside and saw him stretched out comfortably on the couch. There was a huge box on the table beside him and based on the smell coming off of it, Angie’s friend Della had come through.
“How are you feeling?” Gabriella asked James, who looked over at her, but didn’t move to get off the couch.
He shrugged. “Okay,” he said softly. “Just hanging out with Angie.”
It was silly to be jealous, so Gabriella was going to let it go. It wasn’t like they were here having a normal conversation. Angie’s phone was sitting on the chair and James looked like he’d been half-asleep. There was a small plate of brownies on the table and the plastic wrap beside them had a weed leaf messily drawn on it. Angie motioned toward them. “Want one?”
Gabriella took a small brownie and wrapped it in a napkin. Angie looked surprised and Gabriella decided to ignore it. “Thanks,” she said.
“They’re good,” James said, his voice still quiet and kind of far away.
He’d clearly had one already. Gabriella was surprised he’d eaten something without knowing where it came from. But as soon as she was thinking that, Angie said, “I made them this afternoon. They came out pretty good.”
James smiled. It was also small and soft, but it was the first actual smile Gabriella had seen from him since before he’d been compromised. “I should save some of those for Graham,” he said. “He’d like them.”
She was pretty sure every single person on the team would like them. Gabriella liked weed once in a while, but not often. But she didn’t have work until a little later tomorrow and she had to go back to the fucking demon house when she got there. So the idea of eating about half of this tonight when she got home actually did sound really nice.
“Bradley too,” James murmured, closing his eyes. “We were in Boston last year and he was just out on the balcony, smoking. Like he didn’t give a shit if someone saw him.”
Right, that case. Another time the Foundation had completely fucked James over. “I’m stopping by before I go home,” she said to James. “Want me to bring him one?”
“Please.”
He smiled up at them as she wrapped a second brownie in a napkin. “It’s nice to see both of you,” he said.
Angie was watching Gabriella, but clearly didn’t want to be seen doing so. “I should get going,” she said to James. “See you later.”
“Thanks, Ang,” he said.
“Anytime.”
She turned to Gabriella. “Are you staying?”
Gabriella glanced at James. “You look tired, Gabs,” he said. “You should get going too.”
This wasn’t a rejection. “No, I’m going too,” she said to Angie.
“Walk down with me?”
That was new. Not that Angie seemed to dislike Gabriella, but she’d never seemed at all interested in spending any time with her, despite the fact that they were about three months apart in age. “Sure, yeah,” she said.
James moved his hand like he was going to reach for hers, then hesitated, dropping it again. Gabriella pretended not to notice. “I’ll come by in a couple days,” she said.
She wanted to say she’d be here tomorrow, but she knew that Amelia was going to be here. James smiled at both her and Angie, but didn’t move to get off the couch. When he closed his eyes, she motioned for Angie to follow her.
“I won’t ask what happened,” Angie said as they got down to her car. “It’s none of my fucking business if he doesn’t want me to know. He’s got people checking on him?”
“That’s what I was doing,” Gabriella said. “We have someone here at least once a day. His roommate works with us too.”
She knew that Angie had seen some shit she also didn’t like to talk about. So if this was rattling her, it must be bad.
“Thanks,” Angie said as they got to her car. “If he wants more, I can get it.”
After she left, Gabriella started walking toward headquarters, the napkin-wrapped brownies in her hand. She’d left her car keys in the living room, so she let herself in and went straight up.
“Just me,” she said as Bradley came around the corner from the bedrooms. “Just getting my keys.”
She grabbed them off the table then headed toward the door, stopping to press a brownie into his hand.
“It’s from James,” she said as he opened the napkin and looked distrustfully at it. “Our cousin Angie made them. Don’t eat it here.”
Now he looked much more interested. “Thanks,” he said.
She held up her own and he laughed slightly. “I’m going home,” she said. “Goodnight.”
