House of the Angels

The 9th Floor

Walking into the dark was nerve-wracking enough for some of the angels, but they pressed on with Esther and Molly at the front, holding up the orb of pale yellow light to clear the darkness.

The angels walked onward through that long, dark hallway with their shoes shuffling along the cold, hard cement floors that were littered with dust, dirt and debris. Esther became greatly disturbed by the things she saw within the eye of her mind as they quietly walked onward. She saw snatches of personnel rolling and wheeling a cart down the darkened tunnel with something long draped in a white sheet. They hadn’t even walked the whole length of the tunnel and already it was full of death and despair that threatened to crush them with every step.

Further up they trailed until the angels found themselves walking up a slope, through a wide open doorway and into a dark room full of cells that were crammed together along the walls, their iron bars slowly rusting away with age. The air was heavy but cold as ice for there were no windows to let in the sunlight and the pipes dripped with water droplets that fell to the floor and formed dark puddles.

Esther and the others soon began to hear the voices again, a mix of sadness and pity beginning to stir in their hearts as they made room for Anne to step in.

“Whomever is here that wishes to speak, speak now.” Anne ordered, her voice loud and clear. “Come out of the dark and speak.”

Anne caught only small words and snatches of phrases but it was enough to have told her what might be down here in the lowest level of the asylum. Boys…..petty thieves…..locked away…..1966…..innocent…we can’t get out!

“Come out here now.” Anne ordered again. “We won’t hurt you. We’re here to help.”

Out from under the staircase at the far end of the 9th floor Anne could see several ghostly specters making their way out of their hiding place, their figures as transparent as a thin sheet of ice. They wore denim or brown leather jackets, jeans with gashes in the knees or black t-shirts. Their hair had been slicked back with hair-grease but their faces were far from lively young men. They appeared terror-struck at the sight of Anne standing there like a stone, beckoning for them to come out into the light.

“Do you have names?” she asked them.

“We’ve hardly forgotten our names.” Said the eldest ghost. “But we remember is this godforsaken place.”

Anne was suddenly struck with a wave that was heavy with suspicion. “Dan, give me the ledger.” She said.

Dan handed her the ledger and Anne quickly flipped through the pages until she came to the last one. Someone in Donella’s family must have continued her work by searching through the files of patients confined here, listing them off by the floor they had been kept on. She found the names of the eight boys who had been confined to Lafayette Asylum in the fall of 1966. Darrel, Hank, John, Randy, Patrick, Stephen, Tim and Jeff. To her amazement the ghosts responded to the names.

“Did you die here?” Anne questioned.

“Yes.” Responded Jeff, the youngest ghost.

“What happened?”

“The doctor used us for his experiments.” Jeff explained. “They took us away, one by one. When they came for me I was the only one left.”

Anne was horrified to learn of the gruesome manner in which the spirits had died, a painful death in which the boys proclaimed their innocence until they drew their last breaths.

“Sybilla,” Anne said in a low, hushed whisper. “We have to get them out of here. They’ve been trapped here for fifty one years and they desperately want out.”

“We’ll use the jar.” Sybilla told her. “Dylan, you good to go?”

“Got it.” Dylan responded.

The angels all stood back in a circle as Dylan drew out a huge cross with the salt canister and a circle, placing one of Sybilla’s clay jars right in the center. Once it was done, the angels joined hands and began to speak in that same tongue Sybilla, Anne and Doctor Jacques often spoke at the voodoo ceremonies.

“Spirits, come out of the dark and into the light.” Sybilla and the others chanted in one collective voice. “We are here to help you. You have nothing to fear, come out!”

They could feel the energy of the spirits leaving their hiding place under the staircase and drifting towards the jar. They transformed in an instant from transparent white apparitions into glowing blue-white orbs that slowly drifted towards the center of the circle. The chanting grew faster and more indiscernible, but the joy Sybilla and Anne felt as the spirits came willingly to the protective urn was unlike anything they had ever felt before.

“Seal it off.” Sybilla ordered. “The last spirit has entered the jar!”

Dylan clamped the lid onto the jar and sealed it until it had been shut tightly. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when all was said and done but his revelry was broken when he heard loud howls echoing in the corridors.

“The hell is that?” he questioned fearfully.

“Sally’s minions.” Sybilla answered dangerously. “They know we’ve got what they want. Get’cho weapons ready!”

Everyone drew their weapons and kept their feet planted firmly on the cement floors. The angels’ hands curled around their weapons, gripping them in a tight white-knuckle grasp as the hoots and howls echoing in the corridors grew louder and louder with each passing second.

The howls grew louder until at last the enemies appeared around the corner. Black shadows that swirled and zipped around the angels, taunting them in wicked voices and speaking all manner of blasphemy against them. The black disappeared and transformed into the figures of the criminals who had been kept here, men who had killed, men who had betrayed their families, sociopaths and crazed lunatics who had killed to satisfy their own bloodlust. The souls of the damned had returned to do Sally’s bidding….this time with a vengeance.

“You cannot defeat us.” Hissed one of the ghosts. “We are legion!”

“One legion is no match for those who serve God.” Sybilla retorted.

Sybilla removed her favorite shawl from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her brilliant white-gold wings appeared from her back, six in all and flecked with bronze at the tips. From her belt she drew a double edged sword made of bronze and charged right into the fight with the other angels, slashing, hacking and fighting like mad to get past the terrible spirits. Metal scraped against metal, sharp edges of hooks, swords and sai scraped against the flesh of the full-formed apparitions, leaving long, bloody gashes and blood spilling onto the floor.

Grey fought like mad with one of Sally’s minions, kicking, lashing and sticking him with whatever he had. He threw one leg straight up, sending the toe of his foot crashing right into the brute’s jaw and knocking him on his back with one deft blow, giving Grey enough time to put an end to the miserable bastard. He took on one after the other, moving like lightning, dodging every fist, foot and weapon that could come his way.

Eve, Rachel and Miriam dodged every blow that came their way, striking back with a vengeance as they raced up the metal stairs to the mezzanine walkway. Miriam hooked her elbow and hit one of the dreaded minions right in the chest and sent him falling over the rails to the floor below.

“Shit,” Rachel hissed. “There’s no way they’ll be able to get out of that alive. They’re coming too fast.”

“Not unless we have a better option,” Miriam said. “Eve, if you’ve got any ideas, now’s the time to put them to use.”

It took Eve all but a minute to think when she suddenly remembered. “You guys remember St. John’s Night?”

Rachel and Miriam nodded.

“I’ve got an idea,” Eve said. “It might work.”

The screams and shouts of Sally’s minions grated their ears and struck the girls with panic. There was no more time to think. If they waited any longer they were sure to be overrun

“Ok…ready?” Eve said.

“Ready.” Rachel and Miriam replied eagerly.

The three girls waited, crouched behind the iron rail on the mezzanine high above the ninth floor; waiting for their opportunity to come. A small clutch of Sally’s minions were charging their way with jagged weapons drawn, screeching and hooting like wild men.

Rachel, Eve and Miriam steadied themselves up onto the rail, keeping their balance and trying not to fall. They were dangerously close. Any second now….

With a frightening rebel yell the girls leapt over the rails and landed on the ground with a concussive *CRASH!*. Chunks of cement flooring flew in all directions, knocking the disgusting creatures against the walls with a resounding *SPLAT!*. Eve, Rachel and Miriam each drew their weapons and continued to fight. Blood splattered onto their faces as they hacked and slashed their way out of the fray, felling one wretched soul after another, the black spirits disapparating from their vessels as they fell.

“Girls let’s go!!” Sybilla called out. “That’s the last of’em!”

Eve, Rachel and Miriam finished off the last of Sally’s minions and took off with the other angels, charging with them up the stairs and sealing off the door to the ninth level.