Braden ' Power of 3' Read online

CHAPTER 3

  THE DISCOVERY IN THE ATTIC

  FRIDAY 5/3

  JAMIE

  Strange dragging sounds coming from the attic above my bed woke me and I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom that had been my dads. Moonlight filtered through the half opened blinds casting weird shadows over the heavy antique furniture filling the room.

  Spooked I pulled the doona over my head and snuggled deeper into the soft mattress of my four-poster bed. I lay there listening to the muffled sound of the hall clock outside the door chiming the third hour. All at once memories of the stories dad had told me of this, the bewitching hour came flooding back. Images of witches and warlocks filled my head and my imagination ran riot as I envisioned them preying on helpless creatures imprisoned in the attic.

  I was scared shitless and thought of switching back to the bedroom down the hall where for the last week mum had insisted that I sleep. Something about this room had spooked her and until now I hadn't understood. There was something definitely lingering here, I could feel it all around me and I hoped that it was my dad

  A loud thud next to my bed made me jump. Anxiously I peeped from under my doona and saw the clothes that I'd thrown over my chair last night fall in a heap. I watched transfixed as they moved slowly across the floor before coming to a halt at the foot of my bed. I was met with glowing eyes willfully penetrating mine.

  Suddenly a sleek fur ball leapt through the air landing unceremoniously on my head.

  "Where did you come from cat?" I whispered hoarsely almost too afraid to speak. Purring effusively the cat crawled under my doona and curled in a ball beside me as if it were an old friend.

  I stroked the cats black silky fur and it raised its head cocking it to one side as its glowing eyes once more looking deeply into mine.

  Footsteps above my head put an end to my curios encounter as the cat leapt from the bed. Frightened I stared up at the ceiling. Beads of sweat poured down my face as I listened to the sound of books being thrown on the floor.

  Suddenly all was quiet and an eerie stillness descended on the manor. Filled with trepidation I slipped out of bed and peeked out of the bedroom door into the hallway.

  The oil lights that I'd insisted mum leave on made the hallway seem creepy and nervously I ventured toward the attic stairs.

  Apprehensively I stood looking up into the dark abyss of its stairwell knowing that I should investigate but too afraid to go any further.

  "Jamie! What are you doing out of bed?" Mum yelled startling me.

  I spun around to the sound of her angry voice. She looked shaken and I hurried to her side.

  "Did you hear those noises too?"

  "Whatever are you talking about Jamie?" she demanded as her gaze dropped to the purring creature around my leg. "What is that cat doing here?"

  "I don't know; I guess he came with the house."

  "Don't be so flippant young man get back to bed! I'll see you in the morning."

  Abruptly mum turned on her heels and returned to her bedroom leaving me standing there nonplussed.

  I let go of a sigh. "Women...who gets them, hey cat?"

  STACEY

  Waking up to the sound of seagulls squawking as they flew around the harbours edge outside my bedroom window gave me a wonderful sense of peace. I had to admit that it had been bliss the last week not hearing the sound of honking city traffic.

  Feelings of guilt washed over me as I thought how harsh I'd been with Jamie last night. He'd looked so afraid standing there in the hallway with that scruffy looking cat that I'd pretended I hadn't heard those strange noises in the attic.

  I really had no objection to the cat; it would be good company for him. What could I say; it just joined the long list of mysteries surrounding this old house.

  However I didn't want Jamie disappearing into that attic like he'd been doing the last few days. God only knows what could be up there!

  The thought of strong black coffee made me get out of bed and I stumbled downstairs into the wreck of the old kitchen.

  Grumbling I walked over to the old wood stove and tried in vain to light it. Biting my bottom lip with frustration I refrained from using profanities and took myself outside.

  Breathing in the fresh salty air I felt myself unwinding, my problems paling into insignificance as I watched the splendor of a new day dawning. Enthralled, I watched the fishermen on their trawling boats silhouetted against the vibrancy of the rising sun. They seemed so at peace with their life as they cast their nets over the tranquil waters of the harbor that I couldn't help but envy them.

  Sighing, I wondered as I stood there surrounded by this indescribable magic, how different my life might have been if I had grown up here as my husband had done with loving parents. Would I still have this restlessness in my soul...this endless need to belong?

  It was a question I was unable to answer. Yet strangely as I heard the squawking of the seagulls trailing the fishing boats searching for fish, memories of my childhood...standing as I did now, looking out over a harbour came flooding back.

  I turned away from the beauty around me and walked back inside trying to rid myself of those unwanted memories. Those lonely years spent in an orphanage were ones I chose to forget.

  However as I tried to bring some sanity back to my messy kitchen I couldn't escape from what haunted me. Who was I? I asked myself as I stared at my disheveled red hair reflected in the cracked mirror hanging above the old meat safe. Were those my fathers green eyes or my mothers staring back at me? I wondered. And whom could I blame for this short dumpy body of mine that gave me such grief?

  I had long given up hope in finding the orphanage that held the records of my birth; like the strange people who'd adopted me it seemed to have disappeared without a trace.

  Lost in my thoughts the horrendous sound of the plumbing groaning told me that Jamie was awake and in the shower. I couldn't wait to see his smiling face, it was just the medicine I needed. Brushing aside my problems I busied myself preparing breakfast.

  All was going nicely until once again my every attempt to light the archaic monstrosity that was supposedly a stove failed. Slamming a few pots and pans around I vented my frustration unaware that I had an audience.

  "Feel better now Mum?"

  "Jamie! How long have you been standing there?"

  "Long enough to see the mood you're in! No sleep hey? Ghosts kept you awake?"

  "What are you talking about Jamie?"

  "Come on mum, admit it! You heard those noises in the attic last night."

  "Jamie there's no such thing as a ghost...and yes I did hear noises. What else would you expect in such an old house?"

  "Whatever!" Jamie rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

  "And just where do you think you're going young man?"

  "Just exploring, I want to see where dad used to hang out."

  "What about breakfast?" Typical, just like his father I thought. He'd never hung around either when I was in one of my moods.

  "It's okay mum, I'm not hungry."

  Before I could reply I heard the back door slam.

  Poor Jamie, I couldn't blame him for rushing off. I wished I wasn't around me either.

  I decided to skip breakfast also and went upstairs to get dressed. Passing the bathroom I smelt "Old smelly bum' as Jamie had aptly named the loo doing her favorite party trick again.

  Holding my nose I ran down the hallway into my bedroom. No way was I going to shower amongst that stench. I made a mental note to harass a plumber.

  Throwing some clothes on I quickly made the bed and walked downstairs to the lounge room trying to ignore the empty cardboard boxes waiting to be filled.

  "Was there no rest for the wicked?' I declared to the stray cat that had decided our couch was her new home. She just looked up at me with that look of disdain that cats save for ones considered inferior and resumed licking herself.

  "Humph...just you wait till dinner time Puska...we'll see then who is the boss!"

  I s
lumped down next to her. Puska? What made me call her that? I shrugged dismissively I must have heard Jamie call her that last night.

  Absentmindedly I stroked Puska's sleek body hoping that I would at least get a welcoming purr. Nothing! She just continued to ignore me.

  Despondently I looked around the room. I had no idea how I was going to make room for our furniture arriving from Sydney next week. The whole house was filled with horrible antiques that I would dearly love to get rid off. However as much as I hated them Jamie thought they were 'cool'. And unless I wanted to devastate him I knew that anything that had been part of his father's childhood had to stay.

  Arming myself with cardboard boxes I resolutely made my way to the attic. Clearing the attic to make space for our things had been something that I'd avoided; one look into that creepy space had been enough to make me never want to go there.

  It was incredibly dark on the attic stairs and the unmistakable sound of mice scurrying underneath made my skin crawl. Suddenly a loud clap of thunder shook the house, alerting me to the storm that had been brewing for days. I began to worry about Jamie and strangely as I thought of my son, I had the eeriest feeling that I was not alone.

  My heart beat faster as I remembered those noises I'd heard last night. Could someone be hiding in the attic? Lightning flashed outside the small porthole window beside me illuminating the attic door as it slowly creaked open.

  In disbelief I watched as a ghostly light flickered toward me. Spellbound I felt a gentle touch caress my shoulder. I froze, unable to move as a foul stench of decay wafted around me.

  Minutes seemed like hours until finally the sound of shattering glass broke the restraints of my mind, jolting me back to reality. Shaken, I reminded myself that there was a logical explanation for everything and forced myself to enter the attic.

  The sound of heavy wooden shutters banging back and forth against a shattered window greeted me. Shivering from the gusty wind responsible for my moment of insanity I hastily dropped the cardboard boxes and gingerly stepped over the broken glass strewn across the floor.

  With great difficulty I latched the heavy ancient shutters and to my horror inadvertently plunged the attic into darkness. Cursing I stumbled around searching for the light switch, however finding it brought me no joy. Hoping it was nothing more than a blown fuse I cautiously made my way back downstairs to check the meter box in the kitchen.

  To my annoyance I found all of the fuses in the meter box intact. "Darn it, wouldn't you know it, a bloody blackout!" I cursed. Muttering profanities I retrieved the old oil lamp Jamie had found from the kitchen cupboard and lit the wick. I watched the flame grow; something was going my way at last.

  Reminding myself that as a journalist I'd faced far more daunting prospects I determinedly returned to the attic. Ridiculously this thought comforted me, that was, until the lamplight revealed a black hooded figure standing by the attic window.

  Terrified I turned to flee tripping over a furry object at my feet in the process. "Meow, meow." I heard as I landed against the motionless figure. Frozen I stared into its featureless face. Its hood slipped revealing its hard wooden chiseled head. I gasped. The object of my fear was a store dummy!

  Nervously I laughed as that pesky stray cat rubbed herself against me apologetically.

  "You're a darn nuisance cat!" I scolded as indignantly she ran off voicing her displeasure.

  I stared at the dummy wondering how I hadn't noticed it earlier when I'd closed the window shutters. The long black cloak adorning its strange clothes gave me the creeps, especially the crimson symbol of twisted snakes weaved across its back.

  Reminding myself why I was here in the attic I pushed the dummy aside and wandered around looking for space for our belongings. However I couldn't get that peculiar symbol out of my mind and I wondered if Eric's parents had been involved in a cult.

  Thick trailing cobwebs hanging from the rafters claimed ownership over the attics odd contents, defying their removal. Thwarted by their hindrance I gave up looking for any evidence of cult activities and aimlessly strolled through this liar of mystery.

  No wonder Jamie had constantly disappeared up here, I thought, he'd be in his element investigating all these hidden treasures. Amused I saw evidence that he'd already moved in, pillows and cushions filled a cozy nook under a huge desk and books lay scattered across the floor. Even his Ipad was there in readiness for our elusive Internet connection, and it seemed, half the kitchen as well!

  So this is what my son gets up to when he disappears! Stuffing his face and reading... Books? Jamie? Now that really puzzled me! I'd never known my son to read a book unless he'd been forced to.

  Curiously I began to flick through them fascinated by their content and age. Witchcraft and Wizardry filled their pages alongside strange ethereal drawings of other worlds. Captivated I searched unsuccessfully for the authors name and publishing dates inside their crude leather bindings.

  I stood there rummaging, wondering why Jamie hadn't told me about them when suddenly a metal box fell to the floor spilling its contents at my feet. Stunned I stared at my husbands missing diary and the wad of ribbon tied paper by its side.

  I could hardly believe my eyes; I'd been searching for Eric's diary ever since he'd died last year and to find it like this was extraordinary! Quivering with emotion I began to believe that more than chance had been at play.

  As I bent to pick up Eric's diary the title on the cover page of the wad of paper caught my eye. It said 'Mysterious Braden'. I gasped; it was the novel my husband said that he'd write one day.

  Tears of joy ran haplessly down my cheeks as I picked up Eric's novel. With shaking hands I untied the ribbon binding it releasing the secrets within. Echoes of my beloved husband lingered around me as I luxuriated in his familiar scent wafting gently from its pages and once again I mourned his loss. Oh, how I missed him.

  Overwhelmed with sadness I stood motionless staring mindlessly at the lamp's growing flame beside me. I felt numb, devoid of all emotions as my mind drifted into a place where there were no painful memories. A place where I could allow myself to feel my husbands strong arms around me, feel the soft touch of his lips.

  "Stacey" I heard him murmur as I felt the warmth of his breath on my cheek. A warm fuzziness embraced me lulling me into submission as a ghastly apparition materialized before me. Hypnotically its tortured eyes stared at me beseechingly, its emaciated hands reaching out to me.

  Terror snatched me from its spellbinding grasp as the pages of the novel slipped through my fingers to the floor and I turned to flee.

  "Mum! Wait!"

  Terrified I spun around at the sound of my son's voice.

  "Jamie, did you see it, did you see it?"

  "Stop shaking mum, it's just me! Calm down you're as white as a ghost. There's nothing there! Come on I've got dad's diary, let's get out of here." Jamie commanded as he grabbed the lamp.

  Speechless I did as I was told.

  Hours seem to pass before I'd regained any semblance of sanity as we sat in silence at the kitchen table.

  "Alright, now tell me how you just happened to be in the attic Jamie?"

  "I was checking on those noises I'd heard last night I was worried that they'd found dad's diary. I was going to hide it when I saw you. Sorry mum I should have told you that I'd found it but I wanted to check it out before you read it. I didn't want you freaking out."

  "Jamie, I don't understand. Whatever has your father written that would upset me?"

  "I guess only you can answer that."

  "Okay Jamie get lost before you make me any angrier. In future no secrets you hear! And until I say so, the attic is out of bounds."

  I watched my son through the kitchen window as he headed for the boat shed. He looked as if he had the worries of the world on his shoulders. I felt terrible; I should have listened to him instead of jumping down his neck.

  I stared at the diary lying there on the kitchen table it looked different somehow. I picked it
up wondering why Jamie felt he had to protect me from what Eric had written.

  It felt light in my hands and even though it looked like the diary I'd given Eric many years ago its cover was almost new. Puzzled I began to flick through it and found that the middle pages of the diary had been torn out.

  Anxiously I checked the date of the first entry. It was the twelfth of January, two years ago, the year before Eric died. I realized that this was a different diary written at the time Eric had travelled here to Braden to sell his family home.

  I was overcome by a sense of foreboding and filled with dread I began to read.