Chapter 14 – Learn from the past

“So, as a medium, do you—”

“Please, don’t call me that,” Maya grimaces.

Still unable to communicate with the outside world, Jenks and she had gone back down to the first floor. Maya feels almost safe here, isolated from the chaos outside. Almost.

“Oh… my apologies,” Jenks, a bit sheepish, continues. “Do you really think there’s anything to be gained from helping … these … ghosts? That they’ll help us in return? “

She can see how crazy it is for him to say such a sentence out loud. She understands him: without her sensitivity, wouldn’t she be exactly like him?

“I can’t swear to it … but it helped me once.”

“Well, that’s something! Uh… so how do you go about… communicating? Cartomancy? Automatic writing? Catoptromancy?”

“And I’m the expert?! I don’t even know those terms!”

He tries an awkward smile.

“I did my homework…”

At least he believes her, that’s something.

“Usually, it’s just sensations,” she explains. “Chills down my neck, impressions. Here, it’s… different. Much stronger. I don’t have to look for it, they come to me. I often see a woman in red. And during the ceremony, I saw several, but I think that was due to the tea.”

“Yeah, I have my little theory on that…” Jenks nods, looking thoughtful. “Anyway, the question is: now that we know the only help we’ll be getting for now is from the dead, where do we start?”

Maya thinks in silence. A phrase, buried deep in her memory, suddenly resurfaces. A soft, slightly raspy voice, her grandmother’s.

“If you look into the darkness… if you look long enough… you’ll notice that something looks back at you… It’s a choice, darling. It’s your choice.”

Why is she remembering that? Her grandmother had been dead for many years now. So… why had she said that? She couldn’t remember.

“The mirrors…” Maya murmurs to herself.

Then, louder, she turns to Jenks.

“At Sea View, I found some special little mirrors. They helped me… see, gave me direction. Maybe we could start there?”

Jenks squints, intrigued.

“A scrying mirror?”

“You know what that is?” Maya gives him a surprised look.

He chuckles softly despite the heavy atmosphere.

“As I told you, this investigation has changed a lot for me. I’ve become interested in… certain things. But tell me, wouldn’t a simple mirror suffice?”

Maya thinks for a second before responding.

“I’d prefer something small, something I can easily carry. And most importantly, something I can use even here, in these corridors.”

Jenks nods, looking serious.

“Maybe we could make one. If I remember correctly, you just need a surface tinted in black, right?”

“In black…” Maya murmurs, searching her memory. Then her eyes light up. “In the Indian salon, there’s a shelf. It’s filled with crystal and stone spheres. I think there’s one made of obsidian.”

“Would that work?” Jenks asks, furrowing his brow.

“I think so, yes.”

He nods, determined.

“Alright. Then let’s start there. But for now, I don’t think these corridors lead us to the ground floor. Let’s get out of here and try to reach the salon without drawing attention.”

Maya nods and leads Jenks through the winding secret passages, her mind wavering between focus and apprehension. After several minutes that feel like an eternity, she finally recognizes the path to her room. But upon reaching it, something is wrong. Immediately, she notices through the one-way mirror that the room has been ransacked.

Jenks steps in front of her, instinctively adopting a protective stance. He moves cautiously, his eyes scanning every corner. The door to the room has been broken in, a huge gaping hole in the center, as if someone had smashed the wood with a heavy object, then pushed the chair blocking the handle.

The mattress has been turned over, tossed aside, exposing the box spring. The sheets are nothing but a mass of torn fabric, ending any idea of using them to rappel down through the window. The furniture is gutted, drawers overturned, their contents scattered across the floor. Even the vanity has been smashed, its mirror shattered into pieces, reflecting shards of light in the dimness. Maya clenches her fists, her throat tight.

The devastated room looks like Camille’s. Did the young girl try to find her in a panic or in anger? Or is it Hugo, searching for something? Or worse… for her? Jenks, methodical as ever, quickly surveys the room. Then he turns to Maya, a serious but reassuring look on his face.

“All clear.”

Maya takes a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic heart. She silently congratulates herself for not following her first instinct to stay locked up in here.

“We can’t stay here.”

Jenks nods and moves ahead, slowly approaching the gaping hole in the door. He carefully observes the dimly lit hallway. Nothing moves. After a few seconds of stillness, he turns back and gives Maya a discreet gesture to follow him. She moves forward, her gaze drawn to Camille’s room, its door wide open. No sign of her—or Sara.

The next hallway appears just as empty, and an oppressive silence surrounds them until distant voices rise from downstairs. Jenks freezes to listen, his features hardening. Then, after exchanging glances, he signals for her to follow. They turn toward the service staircase, near Ashford’s room. Maya takes the opportunity to try the door, but the handle doesn’t budge. Jenks places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and they cautiously descend the stairs leading to the winter garden and the reception hall.

The voices grow clearer as they move. They come from the main entrance, just across the hall. They move quickly, sticking to the walls and carefully avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray their presence. When they finally reach the hall, they slow their pace, on high alert.

Hugo stands there, facing the front door, his back to them, still as a predator in the midst of a hunt. The oppressive energy he radiates makes Maya feel a cold sweat running down her back. Outside, Jeffrey and Robert stand in the snow. Their breath forms white clouds in the cold air. They hold their shovels like makeshift weapons, the knuckles of their hands whitened from their tight grip. They seem tense, their faces twisted by palpable nervousness.

Hugo’s voice rises, sweet as honey, laden with a false politeness so exaggerated it becomes sinister.

“Gentlemen, don’t stand out there freezing! The night is so cold… And you still have a lot of work to do if you want to clear the way to the gate, don’t you? Please, come in. After all, we’re among friends, aren’t we?”

He tilts his head slightly, and his tone shifts, adopting a childlike nonchalance that makes his intentions even more threatening.

“I’d be delighted to play with you… You’ve been soooooo kind to Jimmy, I can’t wait to return the favor.”

His resentment oozes. Jeffrey and Robert, visibly uncomfortable, exchange a glance before cautiously retreating. They slowly move away into the garden, disappearing behind the hedges, likely seeking another refuge. But Hugo, unfazed, throws one last barb at them, humming in a cheerfully sinister tone.

“Oh, but I’ll come looking for you… As soon as I can get out. And then, we’ll play. I can’t wait…”

Maya, hidden with Jenks just a few steps away, feels her breath shorten. As soon as Hugo slightly turns his head, Jenks grabs her arm and pulls her swiftly into the Indian room. They press themselves against the wall, hiding behind the door, holding their breath. Hugo’s footsteps echo, slowly fading away into the hallway. When the silence returns, Jenks cautiously peeks his head around the door crack and signals her that the coast is clear.

“Strange conversation…” he murmurs, clearly unsettled.

Maya, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Hugo stood, mutters aloud.

“He can’t leave…”

“Beg your pardon?” Jenks asks, surprised, turning to her.

“Jimmy… He knew about the mirrors, the secret passages in the walls. He’s the one who gave me the key. And what he knows, Hugo knows too. He could have left here at any time, for weeks, months. But he didn’t.”

A flash of understanding crosses the inspector’s face.

“Because he can’t. But why?”

Maya searches for her words, digging through her memories.

“Jimmy… He mentioned something… Sigils.”

“Sigils?” Jenks repeats, furrowing his brows.

“Yes, he used that word. Do you know what it is?”

“If we believe what I’ve read on the subject, a sigil, or cabalistic seal, is a magical symbol, a sort of geometric figure used to represent an entity or to seal something.”

Maya furrows her brows, intrigued.

“Could a drawing stop him from leaving?”

“Honestly, if you’d asked me in the old days, I’d have said no, but … it looks like we’re on the verge of communicating with the dead, so it looks like anything’s possible. “

Jenks quickly peeks his head out into the hallway, then moves toward the front door Hugo left wide open. Maya follows with hesitant steps, staying alert for any sound. Jenks inspects the doorframe, examining one side, then the other. His fingers then brush the doorframe, where something seems to have caught his attention.

“Here,” he murmurs, pointing to a drawing etched into the wood, complex and winding, made up of lines and semicircles.

Maya steps closer, her gaze fixed on the symbol.

“I’ve seen something similar before… At the Sea View Hotel. In the store room, Jimmy kept occult books, strange vials… And there was a symbol painted on the wall, similar to this one.”

Jenks straightens up, thoughtful.

“Did he carve this here to prevent Hugo from leaving?”

“I think so. And I believe it’s not the only thing he hid…”

Nervously rummaging through her pockets, she pulls out the notebook she had forgotten. She quickly heads back to the Indian room, approaching the fire while flipping through the pages.

“Jimmy gave me this earlier… It was so chaotic, I completely forgot about it.”

At first glance, it seems no different from the other journals she had skimmed through in the house: mundane, scattered notes with little apparent interest. Yet, one sentence comes back to her mind, spoken by Jimmy during a calm moment.
“He told me to read it by a heat source…”

Jenks, intrigued, gazes at the pages for a moment before extending his hand.

“May I?”

Maya hands him the notebook. The inspector wastes no time and heads toward one of the small emergency lamps casting a flickering light in the corner of the room. He brings the pages of the notebook close to the bulb, almost touching the paper with the glass. Slowly, lines of writing begin to appear, as if drawn by an invisible hand.

“Magic!” he jokes with a satisfied smile as Maya’s surprise shows on her face. “Sympathetic ink. An old trick. Heat reveals what’s been written with certain liquids. Now, let’s see what it says…”

Maya quickly moves closer to read, her eyes scanning the first lines as Jenks heats another page. The words that emerge speak of curses, rituals, and deeply buried family secrets.

“I think this belonged to the former owner… Jimmy’s aunt. She mentions a ‘family curse’ that has lasted for generations. Some of the family tried to put an end to it… Only some?”

Jenks points to the dark walls surrounding them, his expression grave.

“Clearly, some members of this family weren’t complaining about the trade-off. Do you have any idea how wealthy Mrs. Winterbourne was before she died?”

“Not really…”

“She was rich. Very rich. Enough that some would probably accept the curse if it meant a life of luxury and privilege.”

Maya grimaces, a wave of nausea rising in her throat.

“Who would do that? Who would subject a family member to such a thing?”

Jenks shrugs, his gaze distant.

“You’d be surprised. I could make you an endless list. Ryan Rand, Phoenix, and Atlas would probably be right at the top.”

Maya looks away, shivering despite the warmth of the lamp. As she continues reading, one name immediately catches her attention: Hugo Hall.

“Here. Mrs. Winterbourne hadn’t spoken to her brother in years. You were right, inspector: she probably didn’t even know she had a nephew. The last time they exchanged, Hugo was returning to India to become a magician even though he was a respectable school teacher. Their father owned Blackmere at the time and didn’t approve of his choice.”

Jenks nods.

“India was known for its schools of magic and occultism. I can imagine that choice wouldn’t have sat well with a man grounded in traditional values. And Mrs. Winterbourne? She didn’t approve of her brother’s choice either?”

Maya flips to another page.

“She seemed to understand. She writes that she would have fled their father too if she had the chance. He must have been…”

“Atrocious,” Jenks finishes for her. “If he carried the curse, their childhood must have been hellish.”

Maya shudders, terrifying echoes of memories flooding back: visions of Hugo’s violence on a still-baby Jimmy, piercing screams, and bloody scenes. Shaking her head to dispel the images, she turns another page.

“Mrs. Winterbourne was deeply interested in esotericism, including Indian traditions. She explains that her family history is very much linked to India, and that she thought she’d find some answers there. She talks here about both beneficial and negative possessions…”

“Beneficial possessions?” Jenks raises an eyebrow.

“Apparently, yes. In some Hindu traditions, they are organized within a religious framework. The possessed person temporarily embodies a deity, which is considered beneficial for the community. Some possessions are also seen as the work of benevolent spirits wanting to deliver a message.”

“I’m pretty sure Hugo doesn’t fall into any of those categories… unless I’m missing the message.”

His sarcasm pulls a nervous smile from Maya as she turns another page.

“Any clue that could help us deal with our friend?” he leans in towards the notebook.

Maya continues to flip through the pages, her eyes quickly scanning the lines revealed by the heat.

“Hmm… here, she talks about an exorcism ritual. She says that after going through the notes of ancestors who had been interested in it, she found nothing conclusive.”

Her finger stops on a particular page. A series of patterns is sketched there, lines and arcs that seem strangely familiar.

“Here! It looks a lot like the pattern carved on the door.”

Jenks leans in to get a better look.

“What does it say?”

“That the sigils can contain the entity. He can’t destroy them himself and…” she pauses, rereading the lines to make sure she’s not mistaken, “… the closer he gets to them, the more painful it becomes for him.”

“Interesting,” Jenks murmurs.

“Apparently, these sigils can create a zone he cannot leave. But they have to work together, in a network.”

She thinks for a second, her thoughts racing.

“Jimmy… He must have carved them all around the house. He wanted to be sure that if he lost control, Hugo wouldn’t be able to leave.”

Jenks straightens up slightly, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

“So, he can’t destroy them himself. That’s actually good news!”

Maya grimaces, her concerned expression betraying her thoughts.

“Yes and no… It’s not good news if we’re trapped here with him. And with this freezing night outside, that’s exactly what we are.”

Jenks nods gravely.

“You’re right. So, let’s not waste another minute. Since we don’t yet have the support of the living, what … dead … can help us? “

Maya carefully closes the small notebook and slips it into her pocket. She quickly moves towards a display case, her eyes scanning the stone and crystal spheres neatly arranged. One of them immediately catches her attention: a sphere of deep black, so absolute that it seems to absorb all light around it.

She opens the display case, and her fingers close around the obsidian sphere, cold and smooth under her palm, sending a shiver down her spine. She lifts it carefully, weighing it in her hand.

As her gaze lingers on a nearby display case, she spots intricately worked round Indian mirrors. But as soon as her eyes focus on them, a dull unease rises within her. A heavy, oppressive weight falls on her chest, inexplicable but overwhelming. She would never touch those mirrors, not for anything in the world. She looks away and steps back slightly.

“I’ve got it.”

Jenks nods, casting a quick glance toward the door to make sure they are alone.

“Alright. It’s your turn, Maya.”

The young woman takes a deep breath, holding the black sphere carefully in her hands. She focuses on its smooth, opaque surface, letting her gaze slide beyond it, searching for something in the infinite darkness that seems to absorb everything. At first, it’s difficult. A part of her remains aware of Jenks’s presence, though he has the courtesy to look away. He keeps an eye on the corridors and the hall, giving her the mental space she needs to concentrate.

Slowly, Maya slows her breathing. Her breath becomes steady, almost imperceptible, and she lets her thoughts quiet, her muscles relax. She sinks into the silence, into that strange state of calm where she is no longer quite present. Her eyes stay fixed on the sphere, but her mind begins to travel.

At first, there is nothing. Just the deep, uniform, endless black. Then, almost imperceptibly, tiny white particles appear in her field of vision, as if someone had shaken a snow globe and the flakes were floating gently before her eyes.

A figure begins to form. Blurry. Distorted. Camille. Maya feels her heart beat faster, but she doesn’t look away. The young girl vanishes as if swept away by an invisible wind. Another figure emerges, trembling, unsteady. A young woman dressed in clothing from another century. Maya guesses: Sara. Then she too fades away, replaced by a new vision. The interior of a kitchen briefly appears: a stove, cluttered shelves, hanging utensils. Maya blinks, and everything disappears again into the darkness.

She slowly comes back to herself, and the room around her takes shape again. An odd sense of relief fills her, accompanied by a newfound determination. She turns to Jenks who seemed to be watching her with concern.

“Is everything all right?” he asked solicitously.

“Yes… Our first ghost seems to be waiting for us in the kitchen, Inspector.”

“Very well …Then let’s not waste another minute…”

On high alert, they reach and cross the dining room toward the kitchen. Their ears remain tuned to every sound, each creak in the darkness making them hold their breath. The exact location of Hugo in this maze remains a disturbing mystery.

Maya stares at Jenks, a look of concentration on her face, as a question burns on her lips.

“Inspector, do you have any idea what Camille experienced when she was at the Sea View Hotel?”

Jenks slowly turns his head toward her, surprised.

“Why this question?”

“It might help. Perhaps this spirit was drawn to Camille for a reason? “

Jenks sighs and, with a gesture of his hand, seems to search for the right words before answering.

“A nasty story, really. I understand why the poor girl didn’t want to talk about it. Did she tell you she was an au pair?”

“Yes, a few years ago, while waiting for her student visa.”

“Her host family made a stop at the Sea View back then. The parents had organized their son’s surprise birthday party. From what I read, there were birthday balloons almost everywhere in the hotel.”

A distant memory suddenly crosses Maya’s mind.

“They were still there last year. I guess Hugo likes souvenirs…”

“Like most psychopaths,” Jenks responds dryly, looking resigned, before continuing. “Anyway, a game of hide-and-seek was set up. The little boy and his friends had to hide, and our young Camille had to find them while the parents enjoyed the show room. She didn’t find the child.”

Maya shudders, a cold chill running up her spine.

“What do you mean?”

Jenks stops, then slowly turns toward her. His gaze grows more serious, as if weighing each word he is about to say.

“The boy wanted to hide on the elevator roof, going from one floor to the next. No one knows how he managed to open the doors, but anyway, he fell several meters. Fatal…”

A heavy silence settles between them, Maya unable to hide her shock.

“My god… Hugo?”

Her question is barely a whisper, a growing fear in her mind. Jenks sighs, rubbing his neck before answering in a softer voice.

“A child wouldn’t have had the strength to open those doors on their own, and apparently, he hadn’t been very nice to Mr. Hall. Jimmy was with the adults when it happened, but my instinct tells me that Hugo could have suggested the idea to the child and made it easier for him. Anyway, young Camille came out of it traumatized… Do you really think this will help?”

Jenks stares at her for a moment, his dark, penetrating eyes. Maya clenches her fists, trying to regain her composure.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”