What Rose Above

Twenty-Four

Last week marked the second time I'd both talked to a murderer and listened to them confess. I might have witnessed Byron getting hauled into the back of a police vehicle too if I stayed a little longer. But I left before Christian and his team arrived. And Byron was only arrested thanks to my tip, letting Christian know where he was over text; which I got an earful for. But it didn't bother me.

Still to this day, I wasn't sure if ratting Byron out was the right move. Well no, I knew it was the right move, of course. He murdered five people. But the guilt always came back to haunt me. The only thing that helped me to feel better about my decision was knowing Byron was prepared to get caught, and reminding myself of all the bad things he'd done. Two wrongs don't make a right, that's what my mother always told me.

Speaking of my mother, I needed to call her again soon. Even though Byron was locked far away, she wasn't too keen on allowing me outside for an unreasonable amount of time just yet. And so, I agreed to check in with her every couple of hours. Just a simple text. Whatever helped to put her mind at ease. She was just ecstatic that we didn't have to live in fear anymore.

Which meant, Junior and I wouldn't have to live with our father for the time being. So, I guess things worked out well. For the most part.

I pulled out my phone and opened my mother's contact.

Staying in the museum for another hour. I'll let you know when we leave.

I read my text over, then pressed send.

"What's on your mind?" Patty poked my elbow.

"Hmm, just thinking." I sighed.

"Well duh." She rolled her eyes. "I'll let you slide for now though. Must be something pretty heavy." I, too, rolled my eyes, but cracked a smile.

"So, how long has this museum been here? It feels pretty old." I looked over the cream painted walls that stretched along the wide hallways. This museum was nothing like the museums in the city. It was much smaller and more confined to Lake Bellinor's history.

Patty shrugged. "Honestly, I don't even know. My father just told me about it recently. You'd think I'd know Lake Bellinor had a museum. But I had no idea!"

"Think it'll help with your project?"

"Man, I sure hope so. If not, that's a major bummer." Patty pouted and folded her arms. "Anyways, I'm going to head over there to check out some of the displays. You better not leave me, Loftman." She pointed to the photos on the wall in the opposite corner of the area before narrowing her eyes at me. I rolled my eyes again.

"Sheesh, I'm not. I'll be right here. Looking around, duh," I said.

"Just saying," she hummed.

I shooed her away. She snorted, then skipped towards the photos with her journal in hand. I pushed my hands into my pockets, strolling along the glass cases in the middle of the floor. There were all kinds of historical items locked within the glass. There was even a set of human remains as one of the displays. Leave it to me to be enamored by that, of all things.

I pressed my face closer to the glass—not touching it.

Simply examining it at a closer angle.

Under the glass, there were paragraphs explaining the display in detail. And beside those paragraphs, was a painting of a woman. A plain, white gown. Long, black curls.

A sharp inhale took my breath away.

I'd know that face anywhere. The woman from my dreams had such a distinct face that it was hard to forget her. There was another picture beside the painting. It was a black and white sketch. But the sketch showed women bound in shackles among other things.

"Nova Williams. . ." I read her name. Just as her name left the tip of my tongue, glimpses of her passed through my head. Her and all the other people I saw in my dreams latching onto me.

I continued reading under my breath, "Black American woman. . . She was one of the first few women in Lake Bellinor and the first black woman to be executed . . . after being accused of being a witch during the Salem trial period. . ."

"Hey, did you find anything interesting?" Patty's voice made me jump. I felt her breath grazing down the side of my face. She leaned forward to glance over my shoulder. "What's this? Salem Witch Trials? We had those in New York?"

I nodded. "Mhm-hmm, I think we had a few well known ones."

"Wow. Who's this?" Patty sounded amazed.

"It's her," I whispered.

"Her?" Patty frowned.

"The woman who haunts me. . ."

Patty's eyes widened. She read the information about her to herself. When she was done, she looked back at me. "You're sure?"

"Very sure," I said.

"Does this mean she was a witch, after all?"

"I don't think so, Patty." I snorted.

"Just thought I'd ask because that would be an awesome twist." Patty grinned.

"I think . . . this is her justice."

"Um sorry, I'm not following. What do you mean?"

I pressed the pad of my thumb to my chin. "For the longest time, I thought this woman was haunting me . . . but this gives me a different sense. She was a victim. But whenever I feel her energy, she doesn't feel angry. It feels like . . . desperation. And acceptance.

"They're all clawing at me with a bit of hope. I used to think they were trying to drown me in the lake. But as the dreams progressed, it felt like they were saving me. All of their hands joined to lift me to the surface. And they never stop calling for me from the water."

"That's deep. . ." Patty whispered. "So, do you think this is why you and Mr. Jefferson gained this ability? Her spirit has been gifting this ability to people and passing it over for centuries?"

"Maybe." I shrugged. "But why?"

That was the only question I wanted to understand.

"Well, from the way you've put it . . . her and all those other lost souls protect the lake."

"Protect the lake?" My eyebrows inched together.

"That makes sense, right? And oh! What if this is their way of getting justice? They fight for the dead—who obviously can't speak—through people who can still use their physical bodies like you. The living. Tyler, we need to tell Mr. Jefferson about this!"

I thought long and hard about what Patty said. Honestly? It wasn't a horrible theory. Was it the truth? I wouldn't ever know unless I had a chance to talk to Nova myself. But for now, I'd like to think Mr. Jefferson and I were chosen as voices for the dead.

I laughed. "Maybe you're right, Patty."

Patty's grin widened.

It was funny to think that I used to hate the idea of having this ability. But it gave me more purpose than I'd ever thought I had. For once, I felt accomplished. Not like a burden or the son my parents wished they never had. And damn, it felt good to think someone was the potential in myself before I did.

***

It took me way longer than it should to have finished this book. But honestly, I'm just happy to have finally marked it complete! This books certainly needs a heavy rewrite because it could be so much better than it is now. But it'll have to wait until the near future..

Thank you to everyone who read book in the Lake Bellinor series and stuck with this book (even through all the crazy long waits for an update)! All of your support is very much appreciated.