Chapter 18 – Digging up the past

Maya slowly raises her hands, her gaze locked on the barrel of the gun pointed in their direction. Every muscle in her body tenses, her thoughts race, but she remains silent, trying to steady her breathing. Beside her, Jenks mirrors her movement, his resolute expression betraying heightened vigilance, ready to react at the slightest opportunity. Harriet, on the other hand, is trembling from head to toe, her ragged breathing exposing her panic. Only Camille remains still, frozen in her trance-like state.

“You’re threatening a member of the press!” Harriet cries out, her voice wavering between outrage and terror. “This is disgraceful… a scandal!”

“Shut up, you damn journalist!” Robert snaps back, shattering any lingering illusion of the kind assistant. “And him, he really is a cop—do you think that’ll stop me from putting a bullet in your head?”

Harriet’s eyes widen in shock as she turns toward Jenks, stunned.

“You’re a police officer?”

“It’s a long story…” Jenks replies calmly, never taking his eyes off Robert.

The journalist shakes her head, flabbergasted.

“Was anyone here for the right reasons? Seriously?!”

“Shut it!” Jeffrey barks behind them, abruptly cutting off her rant.

Maya stays quiet, listening intently to the sounds around them. The echo of their voices bounces off the walls, breaking the oppressive silence. It’s only a matter of time before Hugo hears them… if he hasn’t already.

Robert steps forward slightly, gripping the gun with a force that betrays his stress. He struggles to keep his tone calm and composed, but the tension in his voice is unmistakable. Fear flickers in his eyes, even as he clings to the illusion of control granted by the weapon in his hand.

“Listen to me carefully,” he says slowly, the threat woven into every word. “We’re going to do this my way. And if any of you feel like playing the hero… you’ll only be cutting your life short.”

Robert, still holding the gun, keeps gesturing, every flick of his wrist reinforcing the implicit danger in his words.

“You’re all going to follow me nicely while Jeffrey escorts Maya to the Indian lounge, where she’s going to sit tight and behave.”

Jenks straightens, his imposing stature and voice as hard as steel.

“Maya isn’t going anywhere,” the inspector’s tone leaves no room for argument. “And do you seriously think we’re going to follow you just so you can get rid of us like you did with the other participants from the previous sessions?”

A tense smile crosses Robert’s face.

“Don’t worry about that, Inspector… Mr. Rand has been informed of the situation. He’s on his way, and he really wants to talk to you. So you get to stay alive… for now.”

His gaze shifts to Maya, gesturing toward her with his chin.

“As for her, that other psychopath wants only her. Consider it a… gift from us, a sign of goodwill.”

Maya, her muscles taut and eyes blazing with anger, snaps back immediately, her voice sharp.

“If you think you can negotiate anything with him, you’re completely delusional! He clearly has unfinished business with you!”

Jeffrey exchanges a quick glance with Robert, his face betraying a flicker of hesitation. Both men are fully aware of how dangerous Hugo is, even to them. Especially to them. For a brief moment, panic flickers across Robert’s face; his mask of confidence wavers, but he quickly regains control and points his gun at Maya once again.

“I don’t know, kid,” he mutters with a nervous grimace. “He seems really eager to get his hands on you… Let’s go.”

Jeffrey steps forward, grabbing Maya and Camille by the arms and shoving them roughly to force them forward. Maya struggles, yanking her arm back, but he only tightens his grip. Harriet starts shouting for them to let go when, suddenly, Jenks lunges at Robert.

With calculated speed, he tackles him, seizing his gun-wielding arm and shoving it upward. In the struggle, a gunshot rings out, the deafening blast echoing like an explosion through the hallway.

Harriet, in a burst of unexpected bravery, raises her pepper spray and aims straight at Robert’s face. She squeezes the trigger without hesitation, dousing him in burning mist. He staggers back, screaming in agony, his hands flying up to cover his searing eyes. The gun slips from his grasp, skidding somewhere into the darkened corridor, out of reach.

Seizing the moment, Maya yanks her arm free with a sharp twist, then spins around and shoves Jeffrey with all her strength. She manages to send him stumbling backward into the room he came from. Without wasting a second, she grabs Camille, pulling her along.

Jenks reaches out toward Maya, his gaze blazing with determination.

“The conservatory, now!”

They all break into a frantic sprint, racing past Robert, who is slumped against the wall, screaming and rubbing his face furiously. They rush past Ashford’s open bedroom, their breaths ragged, flying down the stairs at breakneck speed. Every step pounds against the floor, the tension rising with each passing second. They know the gunshot has drawn Hugo’s attention.

Harriet reaches the door first, her hands trembling as she desperately rattles the handle. She lets out a strangled cry.

“It’s locked!”

Jenks, his expression tightening, releases Maya’s hand and steps forward swiftly.

“Move!”

With a sharp motion, he pushes Harriet aside and begins slamming his shoulder against the door, the wood reverberating under the impact. Maya stands frozen for a brief moment, clutching Camille against her like an inert doll, the dead weight of the young woman making every movement more difficult. Beside her, Harriet anxiously bites her nails, her wide eyes filled with terror.

A furious scream erupts behind them.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

Jeffrey, his face red with rage, barrels down the stairs, stumbling slightly in his haste. His wild eyes lock onto them, so focused that he doesn’t notice the figure silently slipping up behind him from the hallway. Harriet does. Her lips tremble, and her hands flail, pointing frantically at something behind Jeffrey.

“The ghost!” she shrieks, her voice rising into a high-pitched wail that slices through the air.

Jeffrey freezes and, with a mocking snort, tilts his head slightly.

“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got, you crazy old hag?”

But his laughter is cut short when a violent blow strikes the back of his skull. He staggers forward with a grunt of pain and whirls around, only to find Hugo standing right behind him. The dim lighting deepens the shadows on his face, and the cruel smile splitting his lips makes him look almost inhuman.

Hugo doesn’t hesitate. Another blow lands, a solid fist sending Jeffrey crashing against the wall. The dull thud of impact vibrates through the floor beneath their feet. Maya holds her breath, unable to look away. One hit, then another. Hugo is relentless, methodical, his movements precise and cold. Jeffrey weakly raises a hand to defend himself, but his strength abandons him almost instantly. His face becomes unrecognizable, reduced to a swollen, bloody mess as the blows keep coming, merciless and unstoppable.

When Jeffrey finally collapses, Hugo straightens, breathing heavily. He exhales in satisfaction, his face splattered with blood, his clothes soaked in it. Slowly, he turns his head toward Maya, and his gaze glows with a sinister light. His white teeth, stained with red, gleam in a manic grin.

Maya should be relieved to see one of Ashford’s henchmen out of commission… but not like this. Not like this at all.

Harriet stumbles back, screaming, her hands pressed against her cheeks.

“The ghost! The ghost!”

Maya suddenly understands. Harriet still hasn’t realized that Jimmy Hall is very much alive… and he didn’t come alone.

Hugo’s guttural laughter rises as he takes a step forward, but Jenks chooses that exact moment to deliver a final, furious kick to the door. It finally gives way with a deafening crack. Jenks spins around and shoves everyone inside the winter garden.

“Move!” he shouts, pulling the women behind him.

They rush into the room, and Jenks slams the door shut just as Hugo hurls himself against it. The impact makes the structure tremble, but the inspector braces against it, using his full weight to block the entrance.

“Maya!” he shouts, struggling to hold the door.

The young woman spots a heavy bookshelf against the wall. Pushing herself up hastily, she releases Camille, wobbles for a second, then dashes toward the furniture. Her fingers tremble as she shoves with all her strength, the shelf groaning as it scrapes across the floor. After a desperate effort, she finally manages to tip it over against the door. The crash echoes through the space, barricading the entrance. But Hugo’s pounding continues on the other side—relentless, vicious.

Jenks straightens, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“That won’t hold him for long,” he says, his eyes scanning the room.

Maya, her heart hammering in her chest, takes in the winter garden, bathed in an eerie glow filtering through a majestic glass ceiling, entwined with ivy and climbing plants. She searches for an escape—their only chance to get out.

Large stone planters line the walls, overflowing with exotic plants in vivid colors: thick ferns, delicate orchids, and flowering shrubs. Vines coil around the columns and the wrought-iron furniture, adding a wild touch to the scene. In the center of the room, a large sculpted stone fountain murmurs softly, its clear water offering a striking contrast to the urgency of their situation.

The floor, covered in wide black-and-white checkered tiles, gleams in places, reflecting the pale light. Elegant yet sturdy wrought-iron benches are scattered throughout, inviting quiet contemplation. A long wooden table, adorned with a vase of fresh flowers, sits in one corner of the room, as if this space once served as a gathering or resting place.

Maya, breathless, scans the room anxiously, searching for an exit. Her eyes flick over the wrought-iron benches lining the walls and the wooden table in the center, cluttered with flower pots and small gardening tools. But nothing looks promising.

Behind them, the barricaded door trembles violently under Hugo’s relentless assault. The bookshelf groans and creaks with every impact—a chilling sound that shatters the fragile serenity of the winter garden.

“There’s no other door!” Harriet exclaims, clutching her face. Her panicked eyes sweep across the floor. “We’re trapped!”

“Look around!” Jenks roars, refusing to give in to fear.

He rushes along the walls, pushing aside pots and planters in search of a hidden exit or a place to hide. Maya tightens her grip on Camille and instinctively lowers her gaze. The checkered floor, seemingly uniform at first glance, appears slightly uneven in one spot, where a tile seems slightly out of place.

“There!” She hurries forward, carefully lowering Camille to the ground before dropping to her knees to inspect the tile.

She slips her fingers into a barely visible gap and finds a grip.

“There’s a hatch!”

Jenks immediately moves to her side, brushing away the surrounding plants that partially conceal the outline. With his help, Maya pulls at the tile. Slowly, an opening widens, revealing a metal ladder descending into impenetrable darkness.

“Where does it lead?” Harriet asks, half-hysterical, leaning over to look.

“I don’t know, but it’s this or Hugo!” Jenks retorts, turning to her.

He glances back—the door shakes violently under another brutal impact. Without hesitation, he gestures to Maya.

“Go down with Camille. Now!”

Maya nods, guiding Camille carefully as she starts descending, her feet slipping slightly on the cold metal rungs. Harriet hesitates for a moment, but the sound of the door beginning to give way convinces her. She follows Maya, gripping the ladder awkwardly.

Jenks turns back one last time. Hugo, furious, finally catches a glimpse of the room’s interior.

“I’m right behind you!” Jenks shouts before climbing down and pulling the hatch shut above them with a heavy thud.

Maya still holds Camille tightly, her heart pounding. If Hugo manages to break through the door, she wonders if he’ll be able to lift the hatch on his own. She prays he won’t, though the sheer force of his blows above them suggests he’ll certainly try. Closing her eyes for a moment, she fights to push down the rising panic—until Harriet suddenly bursts into sobs.

The journalist is in the grips of a full-blown panic attack, her trembling hands pressing against her face, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Jenks steps closer, trying to calm her with a firm but gentle voice, but the relentless pounding from above makes it almost impossible. Harriet seems unable to contain her nerves any longer.

“It’s him, I’m telling you! It’s Jimmy Hall! He’s come back from the dead to kill us all! He’s going to slaughter us!”

Her voice is thick with terror, her wide eyes desperately searching the air around her for answers.

The panic is overwhelming, and Maya has no idea how to make Harriet understand that the situation is far more complicated than she thinks. Jenks, trying to maintain his composure, responds in a firm yet reassuring voice.

“No, Harriet, he’s still alive. Jimmy Hall is not a ghost.”

But at those words, Harriet seems to lose her grip on reality even more. She whirls toward Maya, pointing a shaking finger at her, fury burning in her eyes.

“I thought you and your little friends burned him alive! You were supposed to have killed him, weren’t you? You let him come back, and now we’re all going to die because of you!”

Maya freezes, a cold shock spreading through her body. The accusation in Harriet’s voice hits her like a slap. She never imagined hearing something like this—especially from a woman she thought she understood, even just a little. The words cut like a knife, and for a moment, the pain leaves her paralyzed.

A heavy silence falls between them, and Maya, her hands trembling, stares at Harriet. Then she looks away, unable to bear the confrontation. She gently takes Camille by the arm and, without a word, moves further into the basement. Entering the next room, she quickly retraces the sigils with an old, rusted nail lying on the ground, ensuring that even if Hugo makes it down here, he won’t be able to cross the threshold. Meanwhile, Jenks keeps trying to calm Harriet, but it’s useless—she thrashes, agitated, her voice trembling with fear.

“Why the hell are we even here? We’re all going to die! He’s going to catch us! And Camille—why is she still wearing that mask? Why won’t she say anything?”

The inspector, visibly exhausted by her relentless questions, finally gestures for her to be quiet. He knows every second counts.

Maya turns her gaze toward the room ahead. The basement looks like an old wine cellar, its dark stone walls marked by years of dampness and neglect. The uneven dirt floor is damp and worn, littered with decaying wooden shelves, now rotten and broken. The closed doors around the room suggest this place was once used for storage—coal reserves, shelves for canned goods, or other supplies.

Jenks steps closer to Maya and, in a calm voice, asks:

“Do you know where we’re going now?”

The young woman hesitates, her eyes scanning the row of doors ahead. After a few seconds of thought, she moves toward the nearest one—a heavy, dark wooden door, worn by time, creaking slightly as she pushes it open.

The space beyond is nearly empty, the floor an even rougher patch of dirt, scattered with broken crates and shattered barrels. There’s no light here—the darkness seems to swallow everything around them.

Camille, moving like a sleepwalker, slowly steps into the room, her movements heavy, mechanical. She finally stops in a corner, her vacant eyes fixed on the ground. With a slow, deliberate motion, she raises a finger and points at the dirt in front of her.

A cold shiver runs down Maya’s spine, and she turns her head toward Jenks. He understands immediately.

He leans forward, gripping a broken piece of barrel in his hands, and begins digging into the ground with determination, his movements both precise and frantic. Maya, gripping her flashlight tightly, directs the beam onto the spot Camille is pointing to. The light wavers slightly, but it’s enough for Jenks to keep digging, each strike of his makeshift shovel sinking deeper into the earth.

Harriet, still in a state of complete distress, keeps shouting, demanding to know what’s happening. But Maya and Jenks pay her no attention.

Then, suddenly, the inspector stops.

He straightens, his eyes locked onto a single spot at his feet. He exchanges a heavy glance with Maya.

He doesn’t need to say a word for the tension in the air to become suffocating. The young woman presses her hand against her mouth in a reflex of horror.

A skull.

There, at their feet—a human skull, surrounded by scattered bones, emerging from the darkness of the past.

Harriet, who still doesn’t understand, finally falls silent at the sight.

Jenks, out of respect, steps back slowly, his face drawn. He looks at Maya, searching for answers, and she gives him a small nod.

Then, in a whisper, she breaks the silence and turns to Camille, her voice slightly unsteady.

“Sara?”

A second of silence. Then the reply—a breath of air, distorted by the distance between the living and the dead.

“Yes, I’m here…”

Harriet, shaken once again, opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Jenks interrupts her sharply with a quick wave of his hand.

“We’ve found a skeleton,” Maya continues. “Who is it?”

“It’s mine. I died here. I still remember the ground—so cold, so damp. Far from the light. No one to hear me. No one to see me. So alone…”

Maya feels overwhelmed, but she forces herself to ask the question burning inside her.

“When you said that Mr. Hall decided you had no value… Does that have anything to do with your death?”

“I couldn’t take what Mr. Hall was making me do anymore… I wanted it to stop, but I was so afraid. I could have left, packed my things, disappeared. But my mother would have scolded me for losing my job. I couldn’t. I could have told someone, but… who would believe me? I’m sure Madam knew, but she was even more afraid than I was of what he’d do if she stepped in. And I couldn’t leave the children with him. Poor Agatha… or even little Hugo…”

Maya exchanges a glance with Jenks.

Hugo.

Of course.

Sara was the governess of Jimmy’s father and aunt.

Sara continues, her voice weak but determined, as if trying to unburden herself—even in death.

“But one day, it all stopped. Mr. Hall stopped calling for me. He never touched me again. He locked himself in his room, refusing to speak to anyone, screaming and breaking things whenever we made too much noise. He didn’t want anyone to see him. He was the most violent toward me. He believed I had betrayed him—that I was weak and worthless.”

Maya frowns, a strange feeling creeping over her. These words… They sound familiar. As if she’s heard them before.

But she says nothing, letting Sara continue her story.

“He said he couldn’t stand to look at us anymore. And the angrier he became, the more the other took over him. One day, he hit baby Hugo so hard I thought the poor boy wouldn’t survive. After that, I packed Madam’s bags and told her we had to leave. She agreed. I told her I would keep Mr. Hall occupied while she got the children ready. I went back to his room and handed in my resignation. He became very calm and said he understood… but that the least I could do before leaving was bring up some wood from the cellar. He followed me, without a word. At least I was buying Madam some time. Then he led me down here and…”

At that moment, a deep unease washes over Maya—a wave of dizziness, a sudden chill creeping down her neck. She freezes, her face tensing. A sharp migraine erupts in her skull, accompanied by a vision so sudden and violent it nearly knocks the breath out of her.
She sees a man bent over the spot where the skeleton lies. He straightens, leaving behind Sara’s lifeless body—eyes wide open, seeing nothing anymore. Dark bruises in the shape of hands encircle her throat.

Then, slowly, the man turns, as if he is about to look at her.

Before Maya can react, everything goes black. A deafening crack of thunder, an unimaginable pain explodes through her. And then—silence.

Maya remains frozen, her body still trembling from the agony of the vision. When she finally lifts her gaze, she sees Camille standing in front of the skeleton, her frail body swaying gently back and forth.

Maya’s vision blurs, and it takes her a moment to realize that tears are streaming freely down her cheeks, distorting everything she sees. She quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

Jenks, too, looks shaken, staring at the skeleton with a grim expression. Harriet stands back, visibly disturbed by the skull and everything she’s hearing, even if she doesn’t fully understand what’s happening.

“If you can control his anger, he cannot reach you,” the ghostly young woman whispers. “That’s how… that’s how you’ll get out of here…”

Suddenly, Camille’s body stiffens. Then, without a sound, she collapses.

Maya leaps forward, catching her just in time before she hits the ground. She falls with her, landing on her knees awkwardly to soften the impact. Camille lies in her arms, her head resting lightly against her shoulder, and Maya feels faint, jerky movements—like someone waking from a long, deep sleep.

Without thinking, she reaches for the mask and carefully pulls it off. She lets it fall onto the dusty ground nearby, an empty shell now discarded.

“Camille?” she murmurs, her voice trembling.

The young Frenchwoman’s eyelids flutter weakly. Slowly, she opens her eyes, blinking against the dim glow of the flashlight. Her gaze, clouded with confusion, seems lost between two worlds, struggling to make sense of her surroundings. She scans the faces hovering over her, searching for understanding. Then, in hesitant, heavily accented English, she murmurs:

“Where… where am I? What is happening?”

Maya feels an immense weight lift from her chest. A genuine, almost disbelieving smile spreads across her face.

“Camille…” she breathes, unable to contain her relief.

Gently, she brushes a hand across the young woman’s forehead.

Harriet moves closer, while Jenks shifts slightly—positioning himself so Camille cannot see the skeleton.

A faint snapping sound echoes through the room.

Maya turns her head toward where she had dropped the mask. She watches as it splits cleanly in two. And in that instant, she swears she hears a faint breath—so subtle, so fleeting, like a final sigh.

She tightens her hold around Camille, a mixture of sorrow and relief washing over her.

Sara is gone.