FanStory.com - Veil of Secrets - Chap 8by Begin Again

Antonio moved cautiously through the rows of gnarled vines, his breath clouding in the chill night air. He felt an unfamiliar pull — a faint and fragile presence beyond what he felt for Miriam, like a whisper carried on the wind. It was as though someone was reaching out to him, their emotions raw and desperate. This was a new sensation, and he wasn't sure he understood it.

He stopped near an old stone well, his gaze drawn downward. There it was again!

He felt more than heard a child's voice — not words, but emotions — fear, loneliness, and a heart-wrenching plea for help.

Antonio pressed a hand to his chest, the sensation overwhelming him. "A child," he murmured aloud, the realization startling him. "A young boy, I think."

Moonlight glinted off something small and metallic wedged between the stones. He knelt and pulled it free — a tiny toy soldier. His throat tightened as memories of his own loss surfaced, unbidden and painful.

"Who are you?" Antonio whispered, his voice trembling. "Come to me, and I will try to help."

The cold intensified, and shadows danced at the edge of his vision. He spun around, startled, as Eleanor materialized, her expression grave.

"You feel him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Antonio nodded, still uncertain what was happening. He held up the toy soldier. "A child — a young boy, I think," he said, his voice quivering with his emotions. "Who is he? Why was he here?"

Eleanor's gaze lingered on the soldier, her spectral form flickering. "I don't know his name, but I sense that Miriam is connected to him. She might have hidden him to protect him from someone or something. Maybe she is with him."

Antonio's jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes. "Could Cornelius be involved?"

"It's possible," Eleanor replied softly. "But I sense there's more to this than even Cornelius knows."

Antonio stood. The toy soldier clutched tightly in his hand. "I didn't come here to watch Miriam suffer. And now a child."

Eleanor tilted her head, her gaze distant. "Trust what you're feeling, Antonio. You might be their only hope. I've tried, but so far, I've failed to reach her."

"Eleanor, I don't even know where to start." He looked toward the cottage and the barn. "I feel drawn in that direction, but is it a clue or just her familiar presence?"

"I, too, have felt a powerful pull and questioned if she was reaching out or if it was just everything she touched." As they walked, Eleanor noticed a change in Antonio. His nervousness settled, and he became calm. Was it determination that enveloped him?

Suddenly, Antonio stopped, his gaze shifting from place to place. Wide-eyed, he faced Eleanor. "Something is pulling on me. Not physically, but my body senses a need. Does that make any sense?"

Eleanor reached out and touched his arm. "It does. Stay calm and let it come to you. This is not something you can force. If it is Miriam or the child, the connection must come from them."

He stood motionless, almost as if frozen in time, with his eyes closed, yet his lids flickered from time to time. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, surveyed the area, and took slow, cautious steps toward a small, ivy-covered cellar door.

The broken padlock hung loosely, the door slightly ajar. He hesitated, his breath visible in the icy air, before pushing it open. The hinges creaked, breaking the heavy silence.

He hesitated and turned once again to face Eleanor. "I — I feel her, Eleanor. The sensation is weak, but somehow I know it is her, and she was not alone."

,
"Do you feel another presence? The child?" Eleanor hesitated, reaching deep into her body for answers, before asking, "Or is it something dark and threatening?"

"A chill — maybe fear — but not evil." He swallowed hard, biting his lip. "I've not walked this path before, but if it's Miriam, I must." Without any further words, he descended into the cellar. It was dim, illuminated only by slivers of moonlight filtering through the cracks above. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, disturbed by his presence. Antonio's eyes fell on a trail of footprints in the dust — some of them small — leading deeper into the cellar.

He followed them to a corner where the footprints abruptly stopped near a stack of old crates. On top of one lay a scrap of paper. Antonio picked it up, his breath catching at the crude charcoal drawing of a woman with long hair holding hands with a small boy.

"Miriam," he whispered, his throat tightening. "You found him."

The realization hit him like a wave. Miriam had been here. She had found the boy, protected him, and left behind traces of her presence to guide him. Antonio stared at the drawing, feeling a mixture of awe and urgency.

A soft rustling behind him made him turn sharply. Eleanor stood at the entrance to the cellar, her eyes wide with concern.

She surveyed the cellar, allowing her own senses to mingle with those with the cellar walls. "Miriam was here," she said, stepping closer. "Do you feel the presence of the boy?"

Antonio nodded, holding out the drawing. "Miriam found him. She hid him here. But why?"

Eleanor looked at the drawing, her expression unreadable. "The boy is terrified. Whatever he's running from, it's powerful. Miriam must have sensed the danger and acted."

Antonio's fists clenched. "If Cornelius is involved —"

"It's possible, but we can't be certain," Eleanor interrupted. "There's more to this than we understand. We need to find Miriam and the boy before it's too late."

Antonio's gaze hardened. "Then let's keep going."

Eleanor saw a light flicker in the mansion as they exited the cellar. "Antonio, I need to go to the house. Do you want to come?"

He closed his eyes for a second and then allowed them to open slowly. He stared at the drawing of Miriam and the boy. "Go if that is where you need to be. The cottage — you said that was her home. Maybe —" He couldn't finish his sentence and turned away.

"I understand, Antonio. Your newly discovered abilities can be overwhelming. Rest at the cottage. I'll be but a few moments."

He nodded, attempting to hide his grief yet understanding that she knew and understood.

Grazing in the garden, Willow brayed and shifted, moving closer to the cottage door.

A calmness slipped over Antonio as Eleanor disappeared. He patted Willow's back, feeling a warmth in his heart. "Are you welcoming me into her home, my friend? Do you keep watch over who comes and goes?" Scratching the mule between his ears, Antonio felt in control again, and he made his way toward Miriam's home.

The moonlight bathed its crumbling facade in a cold glow, and the air grew heavier as he approached. He hesitated at the door, his hand brushing the worn wood. The faint scent of lavender drifted toward him — a reminder of Miriam.

The door creaked open under his touch. Inside, the room was still and thick with dust. Something drew him deeper, his gaze landing on an ornate mirror propped against the far wall. Its surface shimmered faintly, alive with a strange energy.

Antonio's breath caught as he approached. Then he saw her.

"Miriam," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Her form appeared in the mirror, faint and ethereal. Her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes filled with sorrow and urgency. Antonio reached out instinctively, his palm meeting the cold surface.

"Miriam, what's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why are you here?"

Her gaze dropped to the toy soldier in his hand, her expression softening. Her voice came through faintly, a desperate whisper. "He's Angela's grandson. You must protect him, Antonio."

Antonio's heart pounded. "Angela's grandson? Why is he here?"

Miriam's hands trembled as her voice grew more urgent. "The boy — his name is Travis. Cornelius mustn't find him. It's more important than you realize."

Before Antonio could respond, the mirror's surface darkened. A cruel, mocking laugh filled the room as shadows rippled behind Miriam. Cornelius materialized, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Miriam!" Antonio shouted, slamming his palm against the glass.

Cornelius gripped Miriam, pulling her deeper into the shadows. "You can't save her, Antonio," he sneered. "Or the boy. They're mine."

Miriam's eyes locked on Antonio's, desperate. "Save him!" she cried, her voice piercing the void. "Save Travis!"

With a final, agonized cry, she disappeared into the shadows. The mirror returned to its lifeless state. Antonio fell to his knees, the toy soldier still clutched in his hand as despair overtook him.

The room grew colder, and a faint shimmer signaled Eleanor's return. She materialized beside him, her face etched with concern. "Antonio, what happened?" she asked.

He looked up, his eyes filled with anguish. "I saw her, Eleanor. Miriam — she's trapped in the mirror. Cornelius is holding her there. She said the boy was Angela's grandson. His name is Travis."

Eleanor's expression turned grave. "Angela's grandson? That means — he's connected to Miriam's family." She hesitated as the thought settled into her mind. "And to you."

Antonio gripped the toy soldier tighter. "I don't understand. How can this evil man trap Miriam? I can't lose her again."

Eleanor placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "We won't let that happen. But did you see the boy?"

"No, but she screamed for me to save him." Antonio's gaze shifted to the mirror. "Do you think he is hidden, and Cornelius is searching for him, threatening Miriam?"

"Cornelius knows about Travis, and he'll stop at nothing to take him and the vineyard."

Antonio nodded, his resolve hardening. "Then we find the boy. And we protect him. Whatever it takes."

Eleanor nodded. "It's time I tell Garth and Matthew what we know."

*****

The police station was quiet, the low hum of the fluorescent lights punctuated by the occasional shuffle of papers or telephone calls. Garth leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, while Donatelli flipped through his notebook, his coffee growing cold beside him.

Donatelli leaned forward, addressing Garth, "Has any of your team been able to get any leads on who master-minded Doyle and Rossi's escape?"

Garth tossed his Stetson on the nearby chair. "Nope. The team's been drawing blanks at every turn." He stared at the ceiling tiles. "Everyone is tossing out ideas, but no one has anything firm to suggest they were involved."

"What about Frank?"

"What about him?" Garth snapped. "If you're thinking of pointing a finger —"

:
"No! I'm not!" Donatelli snarled. "Give a guy a break, will ya? I wasn't pointing any fingers at Frank. I thought he might have heard something through his connections."

"Now that's grasping at straws — asking the underworld about a crime, especially one involving one of their own."

"At this point, I don't care who gives me anything to work with — the longer Doyle is out there, the deeper this will get."

"I agree. The man belongs behind bars forever, but somehow, he has manipulated the system once again and is free, planning who knows what."

"It took a lot of leverage, manpower, money, and skill to pull off two simultaneous crashes, a major escape, and not leave a trace. That screams the mob to me."

"It does. Maybe a new faction trying to take over the Chicago area, including Bayside, since Frank is retired and Jack Lexington is small potatoes compared to New York."

"Those two sets of tire tracks — it doesn't make sense unless another group outsmarted the first one, meaning Doyle and Rossi aren't where they thought they would be."

A faint chill swept through the room, and both men stilled. Garth glanced at Donatelli, who raised an eyebrow. "She's here," Garth muttered.

Eleanor materialized in the corner, her spectral form shimmering faintly. " And good evening to you, Garth. Sorry to bother you two, but we need to talk," she said without preamble, her voice urgent.

Donatelli leaned back, his expression skeptical but focused. "This better be good, Eleanor. Finding Doyle is my priority. And things aren't going very well."

"It's about Miriam and the boy," Eleanor said, stepping closer.

Garth frowned, his posture straightening. "Rebecca told me you haven't been able to reach Miriam. Isn't it possible she just decided to return to her afterlife as originally planned?"

"No! She would never leave Rebecca like that." Eleanor sighed. "Besides, there's evidence that the missing boy is connected to Miriam."

Donatelli chuckled. "Don't tell me I've got people out looking for a missing boy — the same boy that the shoe you found belongs to — and he's a ghost, too! The reporters will have a field day!"

Eleanor glared at Donatelli. "You can't be serious — making fun and doubting me." She looked around the office. "By the way, where is Danni? Or isn't she privy to your top-level meetings, either? After all, she's a ghost."

"Whoa! Eleanor, calm yourself. He was just teasing you. We all have had our doubts, which you erased, but it is a little unnerving to learn there are more ghosts than people running around."

"You'd be surprised, Garth, but I'm not worried about the average spirit. Most are here watching over loved ones. They mean no harm."

"Except to make me think I'm going crazy." Donatelli took a swig of his cold coffee and made a face. "Ugh! That stuff's as scary as you telling me that the bad guys are ghosts."

Eleanor glared at Donatelli and Garth before snapping her fingers. Two large steaming mugs of coffee appeared on the desk.

"Oh, you're a godsend, Eleanor. It's the Moroccan kind that Danni gets me." His hand reached for the mug, and the two mugs disappeared. "Hey, bring them back."

"Not until you promise to hear me out and stop with your jokes. This is very serious." She glanced toward Garth. "Since it involves Rebecca, I thought you'd at least listen."

Garth's eyes met Eleanor's, and the smile slipped from his face. "Come on, Donatelli, listen up. Eleanor has never led us astray. I might not understand it all, but I'm willing to listen. Besides, that's the only way you are going to get that coffee."

Donatelli nodded. "Okay, you have my full attention — after I get the coffee."

Eleanor snapped her fingers, and the mugs reappeared. Eleanor moved closer — her expression serious. "Now that I have your attention, here's what you need to know about Miriam and the boy."