The Supernaturals

Epilogue

“The Doors are now firmly shut, and the floors are no longer clean and free of dust”

Kelly paid for the meeting room at the Waldorf Astoria with the severance pay she had been issued the week before. At the table were nine people, four of whom were now happily unemployed.

George Cordero, Leonard Sickles, Harris Dalton, Kelly Delaphoy, Jennifer Tilden, Jason Sanborn, Damian Jackson and Julie Reilly spoke in hushed voices, catching up on what they’d each been doing over the two months since Halloween night at Summer Place.

Wallace Lindemann had committed himself to a hospital in Westchester County, New York for treatment of alcoholism and a possible schizophrenic condition brought on by his stay in his only investment left in the world. As for Lionel Peterson, he had moved to become head of Fox News, where, as Julie Reilly put it, absolutely no one would ever take him seriously again. Julie, Kelly and Jason had been released from their contracts by the network — the company was “moving in another direction” with reality television. Julie had not been offered the anchor chair for the nightly news, and that had forced her out along with Hunters of the Paranormal. Damian Jackson had been forced to accept early retirement from the Pennsylvania State Police, on the grounds that he had been overworked to the point that his reports no longer made sense. As for the network, it was being sued by every one of the sponsors that had bought into the primetime Halloween special — a debacle that had forced the aging CEO to step down (with a full golden parachute, of course).

The door opened and everyone turned to see Gabriel Kennedy being wheeled into the meeting room with John Lonetree pushing him along. Gabriel was parked at the head of the table, and then John took a seat next to Jennifer. She leaned over and kissed him. Jenny was resplendent in a bright yellow dress, and her weight had come back strong. Her life had totally turned around. She could even listen to “oldies but goodies” stations again without feeling bad over Bobby Lee McKinnon and his sacrifice for her. She smiled at Lonetree and leaned back in her chair.

Gabriel took in all of the faces around the table. He tossed a large folder onto the table, and once again looked from face to face.

“John, would you like to start? Then I’ll give you the police findings.”

Lonetree squeezed Jenny’s hand and then slowly stood.

“The Dream Walk is where the story starts and ends. When I was under, I was able to see the very beginning — the creation of Elena Lindemann, if you will. In all actuality, Elena Vilnikov was born Vasily Gregory Vilnikov in 1881—the only son of Russian parents who were distant relatives of the Russian royal family, the Romanovs. Vasily had twin sisters, who were four years younger. The father doted on the girls, to Vasily’s severe detriment. The boy was ignored, ridiculed, when all he wanted in life was to be loved. As you may remember from Leonard’s photographs, there were no girls that matched Elena’s age in the family, only the boy and the two younger sisters. Vasily had a warped impression of just what his father hated about him. That was the spark, we think, that ignited Vasily’s plan to become what he knew his father loved: a girl.”

John paused for a drink of water and looked toward Gabriel, who nodded his encouragement.

“During the Dream Walk, I witnessed Vasily’s turning point. He burned his father and his sisters to death in their house. He escaped with his mother, who we may assume covered up for him until the day she died, leaving the boy alone in the world and free to become anyone he wanted. We can only assume he had launched into a homosexual affair with F.E. Lindemann at some point. At what point Frederic was talked into actually marrying and allowing his lover to become a full time woman…that’s only conjecture.”

“We do have proof — the bodysuits in the sewing room, sewn by Vasily’s meticulous hands,” Gabriel reminded everyone.

“As for the children of Elena and F.E. Lindemann,” John continued. “Now, Vasily obviously couldn’t have children. So they created changelings. Children were stolen from their mothers at birth — or were cut directly from their mothers’ wombs. There were no end of immigrant mothers, pregnant and seeking help. The Lindemanns were handily positioned, taking in those pregnant immigrants. Alone in a new world, they would never be missed. To outward appearances, it looked generous, assisting those lonely women by providing them work and lodging.”

“You mean to say that none of the Lindemanns’ eight children were their own?” Damian interjected. “That they were—?”

“Changelings,” John said.

“The sons of bitches.”

“Yes,” John agreed. “One of those young women was the sister of the German opera star, Gwyneth Gerhardt. Gwyneth came looking for the girl after she got pregnant and ran off to America. She tracked her to Summer Place and suspected something wasn’t right. I witnessed her death when she got too close to the truth.”

“The trapped spirits in the subbasement?” Julie Reilly asked.

“Yes. They were the mothers of the changelings. They were brought to Summer Place and buried in the subbasement, along with twenty-two other women whose births weren’t successful.”

“My God,” Jennifer breathed.

“But the hauntings supposedly started long before the death of Vasily — er, uh, Elena,” Kelly countered.

“That is more speculation,” Gabriel said as John took his seat. “I finally had a talk with the silent movie star’s companion, a lesbian who had a long-standing affair with her. She finally admitted that Vidora Samuels told her she had been raped by a man. Now, we can speculate that it may have been F.E. Lindemann who had committed that crime, or it could have been Vasily. The actress never could identify her attacker, so she just said there was no one there — that was how the haunted house stories began. We can presume the same story goes for the gossip columnist. But since her assault was attempted in broad daylight, she may have seen her attacker.”

“So why not tell the police?” Julie asked.

“Because, we have since learned, the newspapers she wrote for were mostly owned in silent partnership by F.E. Lindemann.”

“Shit. They skipped through life without a care in the world. But their own children, they seemed to have been cursed, themselves,” Jennifer said.

“You bet they were,” Gabriel said. “Not one of them died of the causes listed on their gravestones. As a matter of fact, there isn’t one body in any of those graves.”

That sent everyone to asking questions all at once, but Gabriel was patient and let the voices around the table calm before he continued.

“The children were each lured home one at a time and killed by their parents.”

“What…what for?” Jason Sanborn asked, feeling sicker the more he heard.

“Who knows? Maybe because they were indeed changelings, maybe because Elena couldn’t call them her own, or maybe just because they weren’t babies any longer. The one thing we do know for sure is that all eight of the bodies were buried right alongside their birth mothers in the subbasement. That has been confirmed through DNA testing. Altogether, we are looking at one of the first substantiated cases of a brutal serial killer who was into devil worship on a major scale. With the eight changelings, there were thirty-one bodies unearthed under Summer Place.”

“I think,” John said as he stared at the table, “that Elena, or Vasily, was so evil that his power kept growing even after his death. Hell, maybe we’ll never know how the entity was really created. But everyone here must understand: where there is one, there is another, and another.”

Everyone talked for another half an hour and then Gabriel cleared his throat. He picked up the folder he had placed on the table when he entered the room.

“This is from Lord Henry Wilcox in the House of Commons in Great Britain. He has requested our services, naming each and every one of us specifically. It seems he has some trouble on his estate in Scotland. Several people have disappeared, and he wants us to investigate. The police and Scotland Yard have come up with no viable answers. Although I initially turned him down, he has become quite the persistent gentleman. He has placed an offer of one million dollars compensation for each member of…well, each of us, to find out what is stalking his estate.”

The room was quiet, and Gabriel waited for the refusals to spill forth with vehemence that would be well deserved. Instead, each person looked to the next.

“I’m out of work, so a million dollars looks pretty damn good to me right about now,” Julie said.

“I hear that,” Kelly Delaphoy agreed.

“Are you people nuts? Wasn’t Summer Place whacked enough for you?” Leonard asked, rising to his feet.

George Cordero placed his hand on Leonard’s and pulled him back into his chair.

“That translates into: when do we go?” George smiled at Leonard, who only grimaced.

“Detective Jackson, what do you say?” Gabriel asked the large man to his right.

“That’s former detective Jackson. And just to let you know, I didn’t save as much money as I should have. So, I agree. When do we go?”

It was agreed. They would do just one more investigation to get everyone back on their feet again.

As men and women started gathering their things, it was John Lonetree, with Jenny on his arm, who asked the question.

“By the way, Gabe, what did Lord Wilcox say? You stopped at ‘each member of’.”

Gabriel hesitated, then smiled. “Why, it was that stupid name that Julie called us during that damned Halloween special.”

“I don’t remember,” John said. “I was a little preoccupied at the time.”

Most in the room rolled their eyes, but it was Gabriel who reminded John what they had been nicknamed during that long, dark, and very stormy night in Pennsylvania.

“Each member of the team known as…the Supernaturals.”