Legends of Windemere

Winchester Mystery House

“Are you sure this is okay, ma’am?” Max asks as he is led down the sterile hallway. He sees other patients resting in their rooms or the common areas, all of them wearing the same white gown. “I know you treat sensitive cases here, so I fully understand if you want me to come back another time. Honestly, I’m not exactly thrilled that my boss is pushing this. Give him a day and he’ll probably change his mind.”

“That may be true, but he was very adamant about the situation,” the nurse replies with a calming smile. Stopping at a locked room, she fumbles with her keys while someone on the other side taps at the frosted glass. “Kate comes and goes, so she might be better and home by the end of the day. It’s been like this for about ten years. Nobody ever comes to visit, so maybe you will cheer her up.”

“That would be the highlight of my week,” the detective mutters while they wait for the tapping to stop. The noise shifts to a banging rhythm that Max recognizes as a popular lullaby from nearly forty years ago. “Not sure if you’ve lived in the area for a while, but do you know anything about her daughter? She’s a person of interest and we’re trying to find information about her past to help with a case.”

The nurse turns a little pale, her hand gripping the key instead of turning it. “Lived in Riverhead all my life and I went to school with Dawn. She was quiet and didn’t have many friends. I’d like to say she was normal, but people didn’t really go near her. We always saw her talking to herself and the world felt creepy when she was around. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you anything about her.”

“Thanks. Figured it was worth asking.”

“If it helps, Kate has been very calm and talkative this morning.”

“Hope she stays that way.”

The woman inside hurries to her bed as the door opens, her eyes wide when Max walks into the room. Kate Addison’s brown hair is a tangled mess that rolls down to her waist and is has crayons stuck in many of the knots. Her white gown has been colored with child-like pictures, most of which are people and birds. She does her best to smile, but the corners of her lips repeatedly threaten to turn it into a frown. In contrast to her disheveled clothes and hair, Kate’s nails are beautifully done in red and orange. She puts her back against the wall and folds her legs, her hands gently tapping rhythmically on her knees.

Max takes note of the bandages around her wrists while he claims the only chair in the room. He gulps down a lump in his throat as the nurse leaves the door open and moves far enough away that she can only hear loud voices. Pulling out his phone, the detective prepares to record their conversation, but is surprised to see that it is out of power. Max realizes that it is for the best since Kate is staring at the device like it is a gun aimed at her head. He puts it away and rubs his eyes while clearing his mind in the hopes of remembering everything that the woman tells him.

“I am detective Max Boros and I’m investigating a case where your daughter is a prime suspect,” he explains, watching Kate’s face for reactions. A spark of fear is in her dilated eyes, but it is quickly replaced by anger. “We are looking into her past for signs of a pattern or an explanation for what is going on. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but we could really use some help getting insight. Your daughter is very guarded, so I’m sorry to say that you might be our only source of information. Sorry for the rambling, but I’m trying to figure out the best approach for this. I don’t want to upset you, ma’am.”

“It also sounds like you don’t want to be here, Mr. Boros,” the woman says with a sudden smirk. Drawing a green crayon from her hair, she lazily reaches out to draw on the wall. “I haven’t heard from my daughter since she moved out of the house. Not unless you count unsigned Mother’s Day cards. Can you tell me what she’s suspected of?”

The detective scratches his chin as he considers sharing that information, but senses that she already knows the answer. “Several murders and disappearances that took place in her hotel. We don’t know if she did them herself, hired somebody, or if this mysterious husband is behind the whole thing. Right now, she’s our top suspect because whenever we catch a killer, the incidents keep coming.”

With a chuckle, Kate gets off the bed and goes to the desk, which she climbs on top of to see through a high window. She can see a river surrounded by reeds and picks out the spot that she once took her daughter to feed some ducks. The birds can be seen outside as rain begins to trickle down, leaving trails along the glass. For a terrifying moment, the woman swears she sees Dawn standing on the water, but the vision disappears after a few blinks. Returning to the bed, she lies down with her feet on the pillow and her eyes locked on the ceiling.

“I never wanted the child. We were too young and he was just starting to move up in his career,” Kate explains as she scratches at her bandages. She ignores the sense of being watched, which is a feeling that has persisted for years even with proper medication. “Thought we used all the protection we could, but it still happened. Tried to abort her, but Dawn remained strong. I even lied and paid money to get two more attempts with the same result. Drank heavily, started smoking, and did whatever I could outside of having my optimistic husband beat me. He kept talking about making it work and he got his way when the baby arrived. Even when she was a few hours old, I knew she was wrong. Something in her cries made my stomach twist.”

“I’m not sure this information is relevant,” Max blurts out, unnerved by the rising venom in the woman’s voice. His mouth goes dry when she glares at him and he reaches up to push his glasses back up. “My apologies. All I mean is that I don’t see how this would influence your daughter due to her age at the time. We did learn that you raised her instead of putting her up for adoption.”

“My husband stopped me and look where that got him. Dawn and her imaginary friend collapsed a house because he sent her to bed without dessert,” the woman says, turning to stare wide-eyed at the detective. Taking two crayons out of her tresses, she makes matching spirals that eventually become a tangled mess. “That’s when I knew I was trapped with her until she decided to leave. Had to do homeschooling after a kid she claimed was bullying her in first grade went missing. She told me Corvus did it to prove a point. That’s her imaginary husband who comes and goes depending on her mood. Anyway, I knew it could get me in trouble if she was allowed in public. Dawn eventually wore me down by the age of thirteen and I was on some powerful meds that made me forget what kind of creature I brought into this world. Two if you count Corvus, but I usually don’t bother with that ghost.”

“So is your daughter the devil or something?”

“I wish. The devil would be a blessing compared to Dawn.”

“Think I’ve heard all I need to hear.”

“If you don’t believe me then go to our old home. A lot of stuff is still there because nobody dares to go inside.”

“Thanks. I hope you get better and can leave here soon.”

Kate breaks into maniacal laughter, which draws the nurses into the room with syringes to calm her down. Max hurries into the hallway as the woman snatches one of the needles and jams it into her own neck. Her eyes flutter from the medication, but she does not fall. Moving faster than anyone expected, Kate wrestles away two more of the syringes and plunges them into her temples. Twitching and gurgling, she collapses onto the bed where the workers fight to keep her alive.

Carousel Bar Monteleone

Reporters are already waiting upstairs as Gemma and the children are led out of the basement by several police officers. The bodies of the criminals are still downstairs, the doorway quickly blocked off with tape and two large security guards. Whispers that the kidnappers were the same group of young men causing trouble in the pool during the day is spreading throughout the lobby. Rumors fly about in regards to their reasons and how they died, very few believing that a single detective could defeat them. All of the guests are being held back, except for the parents who are allowed to rush forward and claim their child. Not wanting to deal with questions and still processing what she has seen, Gemma takes advantage of the public reunions and slips into the nearest stairwell.

“Not interested in being a celebrated hero?” Dawn asks as she walks down from the upper floor. No longer wearing her pirate costume, she is dressed in an elegant gown of amber stain and a matching tiara. “Thank you for solving that so quickly. I was worried we would have a real problem on our hands. My husband says he had nothing to do with it, but how else could those men have found the abandoned play area and funhouse? I’m sure he meant well, but he’s been rather crabby.”

“I don’t have the patience for you,” Gemma replies in a tired voice. Moving further up the stairs, she finds herself blocked by the other woman’s leg. “You expect me to believe it was an abandoned funhouse? That was a place of death. Maybe the kids were too light to set off the traps or they activated when I went through the slide entrance. Either way, that place makes no sense.”

“Might not have been one of our better ideas,” the hotelier says with a shrug. Hopping onto the railing, she slides down a few steps to stand behind her playmate. “It isn’t easy keeping this place fresh and interesting. I have plans for a movie theater and maybe a horseback riding area if I buy the park across the-”

“Goodnight, Dawn,” the detective mutters before heading up the stairs. She can feel a boring stare on her back and pauses without turning around. “I’m tired and have a lot on my mind. To you this is a game, but to me it’s my job. You’re a monster who needs to be stopped. For some reason, I’m the only one in that position.”

“Do you want another riddle?”

“I never solved the last one.”

“Of course you did. I think.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“But you need to play the game.”

Heading back down the stairs, Gemma punches Dawn in the face and is surprised to find that the woman continues smiling. She backs away as her enemy licks the blood off a split lip, the crimson liquid appearing to transform into lipstick. Fearing that a reporter will hear the scuffle and investigate, the detective puts her hands in her pockets and disappears up the shadowy stairwell. She vaguely hears fluttering wings below and glances over the railing, expecting to see a raven. Instead, Dawn remains standing where Gemma left her, the brown-haired hotelier staring forward and whispering to herself. There is no sign of a bird beyond a circle of feathers around the brown-haired woman’s bare feet. With a wide yawn, the detective heads to her room and leaves the mumbling hotelier behind.

Bran Castle

The basement hallways are so bright that Gemma staggers for most of her wandering and runs her hand along the walls to find the turns. Carnival music is playing from speakers in the ceiling, the black boxes creating thick beams of shadows that the detective can step into to give her eyes a rest. None of the doors have handles, each one with a single word on it that range from yogurt to anvils. The glint of pipes and metal panels shows through areas that have lost their blinding white paint. An electric hum can be heard from the damaged sections, which shiver whenever Gemma walks too close. The sound also emanates from red doors that are all marked as paperwork and leave crimson paint on the fingers of anyone who touches them. Sniffing at the coating, the detective picks out the aromas of cherries and blood.

Flickering lights and the creaking of a distant door gives enough of a warning that Gemma can brace herself for a cackling wind. It strikes her from behind and rattles the speakers, which briefly switch to a solitary violin playing a mournful tune. The gale becomes strong enough to shove her down the hallway, a violent whip pushing her around a corner. She is knocked off her feet and sent rolling while tiny studs grow from the floor to make it a painful journey. With the slam of an unseen door, the wind stops and Gemma skids to the edge of a pit that she would have missed if not for her foot dangling over thin air. The white sides make it impossible for her to gauge the size of the hole, so she turns back to retrace her steps. After a few feet, she slams into a mirror wall that is blocking her path.

Not wanting to alert the kidnappers, Gemma covers her mouth to curse against her hand and returns to the pit. She slides her feet to avoid falling in, the opening still difficult to see even though she knows it is there. With her injured eye itching from the strain, she puts the bandages back on and is surprised to see the hallway get darker. Slightly unnerved by the sudden change, the detective sees that the pit is only four feet across, but the other side is nothing more than a thin ledge. The gaping mouth of a slide is in the far wall, which is decorated to look like the entrance to a circus tent.

“No other way to go,” Gemma whispers as she puts her gun away. Wiping her hands until they are dry, she backs up enough to get a running start. “Leap, dive in, and slow my descent to avoid getting noticed. With the way things are going, I’d probably come launching out in the middle of the kidnappers.”

Stretching and bouncing on her toes, Gemma takes a final look around to make sure there are no other paths. Releasing a long held breath, she sprints toward the pit and leaps as close to the edge as she can. A rush of hot air hits her from below and she swears there is a churning cloud of steam at the bottom of the shaft. Before she can think any more about it, the detective plunges through the opening and hits a plastic slide. The slick tunnel prevents her from getting a grip, so she races into the depths from where she can hear the carnival music and children laughing. Flashes of gawking faces appear along the walls, each one of a man with jet black hair and tight, pale skin. Attempting to stop herself, Gemma spins and takes the rest of the slide with her back to whatever is waiting for her. To the tense woman’s surprise, she silently lands in a pit of foam shapes that is surrounded by a low, padded wall.

Shielded from view by the obstacle, Gemma carefully moves to get a look at what is an immense play area. Climbing nets, obstacle courses, ball pits, and every manner of entertainment you would find in a children’s entertainment facility can be seen. The detective hunkers down a little more when she spots zip lines of various heights, several kids happily soaring from one end to the other. A collection of trampolines in the floor makes running from one station to another fun, especially when the one of the circular spots spouts colorful bubbles. Even with the joyous atmosphere, Gemma notices that the children slip into brief moments of shivering fear. Their eyes routinely search out the nearest kidnapper, the six men dressed like pirate clowns and one out of place mime. If the kids stare for too long, the irritable criminals shout at them and brandish a blunt object to threaten them. Only the mime has a firearm, which he is repeatedly checking to make sure it is loaded and the safety is off.

Drawing her own weapon, Gemma is about to slip behind a nearby playhouse when an argument breaks out. Too far away to hear the words, she watches the mime flail and sign to the clowns. They hurry to herd the twenty children into one of the bouncy castles and use large padded blocks to create a wall in front of the entrance. Still unhappy about something, the mime continues ranting without speaking and smacks two of the clowns for laughing. Sensing that tensions are running too high, Gemma steps out of her hiding place and prepares to yell at the criminals. Her voice stops when she sees their leader point his gun at the bouncy castle, the children inside screaming and hurrying to the back. Without a second thought, the detective raises her own weapon and shoots the mime in the head. The five clowns jump back in surprise as the man utters a curse and falls onto a trampoline that launches the corpses onto one of the zip lines.

“This is the police! Surrender and nobody else will get hurt!” Gemma shouts, praying that they will listen. Clenching their blunt weapons and making squeaks with every step, the criminals spread out to rush the detective. “I don’t want to shoot any of you, but I will if you threaten me or the kids. Drop your weapons and put your hands above your head. This is your last warning!”

The clowns sprint toward Gemma, so she aims and shoots at the one who is furthest away from the bouncy castle. Her gun makes a strange click and falls apart in her hands, which causes the criminals to laugh and slow down. Not wanting to get cornered, she runs toward the climbing wall and scales it in the hopes of jumping to the top of a large playset. A pink-haired clown attempts a running swing with his bat, the polished wood skimming her exposed calves. The glancing blow makes her skin burn, but she ignores the sensation and curls her legs to draw him closer. Using only her arms, it is more difficult to climb and the criminal easily gains on her. When he gets within reach, Gemma kicks him in the face and watches him fall to the mats below. To her surprise, the padded ground pivots down to drop the man into a black pit that swallows him whole.

Leaping to the playset, the detective clambers into what is a kitchen playset and sees that a sad-faced clown is already inside. The man lifts his bat to hit her, but the chamber is so small that he hits the ceiling and drops the weapon. Kicking him in the groin and elbowing him in the face, Gemma spots a slide and shoves the criminal down. The clown sails off the far end and hits a climbing nets, which shreds him into pieces like it is made out of razors. Scrambling down the ladder, the detective vaults over another enemy and hits a trampoline that gives enough for her to land comfortably. The fat clown cautiously moves around the circle and waves for his friends to help cut off the woman’s escape. Gemma jumps over a swing aimed at her knees and is sent flying into bouncy castle by the trampoline. Behind her, she can hear the man choking and gagging as his throat is filled with sticky bubbles that become acid when they pop.

“The hell kind of play area is this?” Gemma asks as she watches a short clown crawl into the bouncy castle. Not wanting to fight with such awkward footing, she scrambles out a door in the back. “This place is insane. What is going on here?”

As if in response to her question, the inflatable house rapidly deflates and traps the clown inside its folds. The man flails and shoves in an attempt to get out, but his movements become slower and less noticeable as the seconds tick by. A hissing runs along the edge of the collapsed structure, which fuses to protect even oxygen from getting inside. What little is inside is release through the last hole that is sealed by a faint spark. His bat manages to break free right before he runs out of air and stops moving, the weapon remaining still on the ground.

The final criminal is unsure if he should continue chasing Gemma or retreat through one of the double doors on the other side of the room. Backing away from the detective, he trips over a toy train and plunges into a ball pit. With a muffled scream, his hand bursts from below and tries to grip the edge of the hole. A loud sucking sound echoes throughout the room as the man is swallowed and the plastic orbs gradually stop shifting. Staring at the ravenous ball pit, Gemma makes her way to the where the children are trapped and frees them. The entire time, she gets the sense that something is watching her and laughing at the fear growing in her chest.