The next week everything went well. There were no accidents among the work crew. Everything seemed to settle into place. The demo of the first floor progressed, and they were almost ready to begin putting new plaster up. Vic continued helping Megan with her design choices. Choosing the most historical fabrics, wallpaper, and furniture choices available. William and Liam made no mention of the pretty lady. Everyone had forgotten the incident with the priest. All in all, everything was going great.

  Even the weather seemed to be cooperating. The sky had been clear, with sunny days and moon-filled nights, without a snow cloud in sight. Vic hadn’t felt so good since before she took this job. Her heart felt light and happy working on the historical elements of the home. She helped Michael pick out the right moldings on a website for reproduction and new architectural details. They also had the supplies to cast molds of the occult symbols that were still intact so they could replace the broken ones.

  The days continued with uninterrupted progress on the house. Vic did not have any more nightmares about Edward Charles, or the beast. Everything was finally looking up. Vic pulled herself away from her work and went looking for Michael as she passed through the construction zone, flitting from one room to the next. She found him in the music room talking to a carpenter about the windows.

  “Michael,” Vic walked over with a printout. “I found an artisan who specializes in recreating historic wallpaper. They’re located in Chicago. We can send them pictures of the wallpaper and they will recreate it for us if it’s not already one they supply and ship it to us.”

  The crew member with Michael walked off and Michael turned to Vic. She walked over to the Wallpaper. It was a cool blue color, with white vines, leaves, and flowers. It was old and faded. Sections were missing where plaster had fallen away and the work crew had to remove a crumbling wall along one side. Vic indicated a section of the wallpaper that was still intact and showed the pattern best. Michael took out his phone and took several pictures with it, both with the flash and without.

  “Do you really think that the ghosts are gone?” She let slip. She had been trying for days to breach the question, but couldn’t. It’d been so peaceful she didn’t want to jinx it. However, she wasn’t a superstitious person. So she didn’t know why she’d had so much trouble getting the question out.

  Michael didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. Can’t you feel the cleanness and airiness?” He took another picture. “I haven’t heard anything weird, smelled no cigars, and the children are not talking about the pretty lady anymore. Plus there are no more deeply dark shadows.”

  “Yeah, but…I don’t know.” She hesitated. It was weird. She went her whole life believing that things such as ghosts and hauntings didn’t exist. She didn’t give them much thought because it was all hocus pocus. She knew people truly believed, but in her worldview, it didn’t exist. Not even God. She thought that was also made up by people who needed some way to make sense of the harsh realities of life. And now…she’d seen ghosts and experienced several things that didn’t have an easy explanation. She also felt disappointed that the haunting had been taken care of so easily. But maybe that’s just how it was. Not like in the movies where the priest cleansed a house, but the entities kill him and keep haunting the house and picking off the people. Thankfully nothing terrible had happened.

  “Liam…” came Megan’s voice down the hall, high-pitched and quavering. Michael looked toward the hall. “Liam, where are you? Stop hiding from mommy.”

  Michael broke away from taking pictures and headed for the hall. Vic followed him.

  They found Megan walking from room to room looking for Liam. Megan strode toward Michael when she saw him. “Michael, is Liam with you? I can’t find him anywhere.” Her voice shaky.

  Work stopped as they turned to Megan and listened to the exchange.

  “No. He’s not with you?” Michael stopped in front of Megan.

  Vic stood off to the side. Megan glanced at her and then back to Michael. “No. I left William and Liam in the playroom. William was playing on the tablet, and Liam was playing with his cars. I stepped out of the room for 2 seconds and when I came back he wasn’t there. I’ve looked all over the upstairs and I’m not finding him downstairs.” She clutched at his shirt and tears welled in her eyes.

  Michael wrapped his arms around her and held her. “We’ll find him. He’s got to be here somewhere.” He looked into her eyes and smoothed her hair. “Everybody will look. We’ll find him. It will be okay.”

  All the men were standing around listening in already and Michael told them that Liam was missing, even though they’d overheard Megan talking to Michael. Everybody moved in a different direction and began looking for the boy.

  “We’ll find him, don’t worry!” Vic said to Megan.

  Vic split off from them to look for the boy. Michael stayed with Megan. Throughout the house, everybody called for Liam. Vic noticed that once everybody left the cavernous great hall the sound of their voices dwindled. She stepped into the servant’s stairwell and thought she’d check the upper floor. She hadn’t been in this stairwell in over a week. When the door closed behind her all the voices became muffled. She was expecting the stairwell to be brighter, and airier, but it was still dark and menacing. She guessed this stairwell was creepy even before the ghosts.

  She climbed the stairs to the second floor, and could already hear people searching. She heard the door beneath her on the first floor open and then footsteps descend. She climbed to the third floor and entered into the servant's quarters.

  “Liam…” She called. Vic flipped the light switch on in the dark hallway, flooding the windowless hall with brightness. “Liam…” she called again. She turned the corner and entered the first, small, servant's room.

  Dinghy curtains covered the one window facing the front of the house. The room had one iron bed against the wall to the left. A forlorn-looking chest of drawers sat across the room. “Liam..” she called. She walked across the threadbare carpet to a door in the corner. This led to a small closet. “Liam…are you in here?” The closet was empty. Before she left the room she looked under the bed. There was nothing except shadows.

  She left the door to the room open when she exited into the hall so that she knew it had already been checked. Terry, one of the crew came through the door that led out of the servant's quarters to the rest of the third-floor rooms. She said ‘hi’ to him and went to the next door, while he took the first door on the opposite side of the hall.

  “Liam…” they both called in unison. She walked down a narrow hallway right outside the last room she was in. It ended at a small room tucked right up under the eaves of the house. She opened the door calling for the boy. The ceiling sloped down on one end and the ceiling where she was standing was only a few inches above her head. There were no windows in this tiny room. The bed barely fit. She pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight. She flashed it around the small space, looked under the bed, and then bent over to peek around a corner where the ceiling was very low. Liam wasn’t in here either.

  He couldn’t have gone far. He must think it’s a game and is probably hiding somewhere listening to everybody searching. In the next room, she heard a small noise, that of somebody shifting. He must be hiding in here. “Liam…” She shined her phone light into the room. Dinghy white walls and an empty metal bedframe greeted her as she looked around. An old dresser sat at the back of the room where she heard the noise.

  “Liam…are you here?” She walked to the dresser, which was pulled away from the wall. She leaned over the top and peered behind. Her breath hitched in her throat. A black shape jumped into her face. Precisely three things happened then. First, she found herself falling backward into the empty bed frame, second, she heard a shrieking sound, and third, she heard cawing. The shrieking had been here, and the cawing? That was a stupid crow that had flown into her face from behind the dresser.

  Terry rushed into the room to see what had happened. He found her lying on the empty springs of the bed frame, and a big, black crow hopping around cawing.

  “Stop laughing and help me up.” She reached up for him. He continued to bellow as he helped her. Then they both stood there looking at the crow. A few other crewmen peeked into the room to see what was going on. With some help, they captured the crow which verbally made its dissent known about being manhandled. They let it go outside and it promptly flew away.

  She continued searching, but Liam was nowhere to be found. She found Michael and Megan back in the great hall. She was crying and holding onto William tightly, and Michael had his arms around both of them. He looked at her and she shook her head no. Everybody returned to Michael with the same look of defeat. The boy was not found.

  The police were called. Michael consoled his wife while they waited. Vic fidgeted and needed something to do, so she went to the breakfast room and made everybody coffee and tea while they waited. Nobody went back to work.

  They didn’t have to wait long before the police arrived. Vic answered the door and found Officer Curtis and Donaldson. The same two officers who came when the priest was found deceased in his car. “Hello, Officer Curtis, Officer Donaldson.” She led them to Michael and Megan who were in the library. Megan was sitting on the sofa sobbing into Michael’s shoulder, while William sat next to his mom and holding her hand. He was crying too.

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  Vic stayed in the hall while they talked to the police. She felt out of place and didn’t know what she should be doing. Shortly after the Officers came out of the library to question me. I told them everything that had happened that morning.

  “I want everybody present to remain in the living room until we return. We are going to search the house.” Vic went into the living room with Michael, Megan, William, and the five crewmen. Nobody talked, but Megan and William cried. The boy was scared and didn’t know what was going on.

  It took them about twenty to thirty minutes before they had finished searching the house and the grounds and found nothing. Officer Donaldson entered the living room. “Mr. Williams, we have not yet located your son, but we have questions about one of the rooms in your basement. Could you come with us?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Michael pulled away from Megan and gestured for me to come with him. Vic followed them.

  Officer Donaldson took them through the great hall and down the servant’s stairs to the basement. From there he took them to the cellar. The room Vic kept finding herself in after sleepwalking.

  Officer Curtis looked up when they entered the room. “This room has a draft, and I’m pretty sure it’s coming from behind this shelf.”

  Michael walked over to the shelf, and tried to look behind it, but the gap between the wall and the shelf was so narrow he couldn’t see anything. He grabbed onto the shelf to try and move it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  He gestured to the two officers to grab the shelving unit to help him move it. Officers Curtis and Donaldson came over and grabbed the opposite side of the shelf and the front. Vic joined them, and they slowly dragged the heavy shelf away from the wall. Once it was pulled far enough away from the wall, they looked behind it.

  In the middle of where the shelf had sat was an iron door. A door none of them knew was there. Etched into it were the occult symbols found in other areas of the house.

  “I didn’t even know this was here,” Michael gestured.

  “That door is spooky,” Officer Donaldson said.

  “Spooky or not Donaldson, we have to look behind it.” Officer Curtis reached for the doorknob shaped like a human skull.

  “There’s no way the kid is in there. It just took 4 grown-ass adults to move that shelf.” Donaldson said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” Curtis replied.

  “I’m not afraid. It’s just spooky is all.” Donaldson followed behind Curtis as he pushed the door open.

  Behind the door lay a stone landing with a spiral staircase leading downward into the earth. Michael and Vic followed behind the officers. The police had their flashlights out, and Michael and Vic pulled out their phone lights.

  There was a cold draft blowing up the staircase, and cobwebs hung from the low ceiling. It was clear that no one had been down these stairs in a long time.

  The sounds of their feet hitting the stone echoed down the passage, which wound downward for quite a distance. At the bottom, a short hallway ended at another iron door. This door showcased a grisly image of what could be considered a demon trying to work its way free of the iron. Vic’s skin prickled with anxiety and dread the closer she came to the door.

  Curtis shuddered and pulled on the door, its hinges creaked as he tugged it open. A blast of colder air rushed through as the door was fully opened. Flashing their lights through the door exposed a cavernous room. The floor was stone, as were half the walls, with the upper walls and ceiling being made of the natural cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling.

  “What is this place?” Vic followed the others in.

  “I have no idea.” Michael flashed his phone around trying to take it all in.

  “This is bonkers.” Donaldson flashed his light around, while Curtis walked to the middle of the room where the floor was stained a dark brown color. “It gives me the creeps.”

  Michael and Vic walked over to the stain on the floor, which had a large pentagram painted in red underneath the area. The stains coated the floor in a somewhat circular pattern.

  “This is an old blood stain.” Curtis beckoned Donaldson over. “What the hell happened here? This looks like some kind of ritual shit.”

  Donaldson walked over and trained his flashlight on the stain. The brown stain was old, dull, and had been here for a very long time.

  “The official story is that Edward Charles and seven of his social club members died in a fire.” Michael looked at Vic and then at the old stains. “But this doesn’t look like a fire, and we haven’t seen any evidence of a fire in the house.”

  “Who is Edward Charles?” Curtis inquired.

  “He was the man who built this house in the 1890s. The newspaper articles said that during a New Year’s Eve party, he and the seven members of his social club died in a fire they had started.”

  “And it didn’t burn down the house?” Donaldson didn’t believe it.

  “No, It was only contained to the room they held their meetings in.” Michael shivered.

  “Pretty convenient if you ask me.” Quipped Donaldson.

  “The past ain’t our problem. Let’s look around real quick and get back to looking for this man’s kid.” Curtis turned with his flashlight and strode through the room.

  “You got it.” Answered Donaldson.

  Vic looked around. There was a large standing mirror near the occult circle. It was nine or ten feet tall and had carvings of ghastly imps on the frame. Across the room from it looked to be an altar. Burned candles and wax were placed about it. Then Vic spied a desk with a couple of books atop it. She walked toward the heavy wooden thing. She delicately touched the small, leather book and carefully opened the cover. It was handwritten in cursive and appeared to be a journal. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was the journal of Edward Charles.

  The Next book was larger and appeared to be hand-stitched of a pale, yellowed leather. She picked it up. It was stiff and had a weird waxy smell. Inside she found strange illustrations, and parts of it were written in Latin. She surmised that this must be some sort of Grimoire. It was starting to appear that the good philanthropist and spiritualist was into something darker. She grabbed both books to take with her.

  In another area of the room sat a massive mahogany table, with intricately carved wooden chairs. Atop it sat several brass candelabras and crystal bowls filled with ash. Unlit torches hung from the walls in brackets, with an occasional painting. The paintings depicted humans being tossed into hell and other gruesome images.

  “Okay, there’s nothing here. Let’s get out of this freakshow and keep looking for your kid.” Curtis ordered.

  Michael took a few moments to continue looking around, under, and behind things all the while calling for Liam.

  Vic had this feeling of being watched as she walked toward the door.

  Officer Curtis walked over and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Come, he’s not down here, but we’ll find him. I’m sure of it.” And with that, they exited the cavernous space and ascended the spiral staircase.

  They returned to the main floor and continued looking for Liam, after not finding him anywhere in the house they split off into teams and began searching the neighborhood and issued an Amber Alert.

  They spent hours combing the neighborhood, but the boy could not be found. Megan sobbed into Michael’s shoulder inconsolable. Vic’s stomach dropped out and dread settled in. More police had been called in and interviews were once again conducted.

  “Is there anybody who would want to take your boy?” Officer Curtis interviewed Megan a second time.

  “No. There’s nobody.” She hesitated. “Wait…Their old nanny, Martha.” Megan looked at Michael.

  “You think Martha could have taken the boy?” Officer Curtis wrote on his notepad.

  “Martha quit the other day. She was in a huff and saying some pretty crazy things.” Michael held his wife tighter.

  “What kind of crazy things? Do you think she’s unstable?” He motioned for Officer Donaldson.

  “She had dragged both boys downstairs yelling about evil spirits and needing us all to flee the house. She’s a very devout woman.” Michael said.

  “Can you call her? Maybe she’ll fess up to grabbing Liam.” Officer Curtis took more notes on his notepad.

  Megan pulled out her phone and dialed Martha’s number. It rang until the voicemail picked up. She hung up and dialed again, again, and again.

  Finally, Martha picked up, “I have nothing good to say to you, Megan. After the way you and your husband treated me like I was some sort of crazy person, after all the years I’ve worked for your family and your children. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Well, do you?”

  Megan sobbed, “Martha, Liam is missing.”

  “No, not that sweet little boy. What happened? I tried to warn you the house wasn’t safe.”

  Officer Curtis took the phone from Megan. “Ma’am, this is Officer Curtis with the Detroit Police Department. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

  “Oh my gosh! This is serious. Of course I can Officer. What do you want to know?” Martha’s voice quavered.

  “Did you take Liam Williams?” Officer Curtis was direct.

  Martha spluttered. “No, I did not! I can’t believe you’d ask me such a thing. I cared for those boys as if they were my own grandchildren. I warned them that there was evil in that house and that they should have left immediately, but no, instead they treated me like I was crazy.”

  Officer Curtis calmed her down, got her address from her, and told her they would be over shortly to interview her in person. The Police finished up at the house, the workmen left, and soon it was only Michael, Megan, little William, and Vic left in the house. Vic didn’t have words for them. What was there to say? She excused herself and went to her room, leaving the family to grieve in private.

  Once she was in her room she started a fire, sat down in one of the chairs, and opened the cracked, brown leather cover of the journal she had found in the sub-basement.

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