Chapter Thirty-Four

There was an odd stillness in the old mansion following the episode with the news crew. The ghosts knew they had escaped something big. Who knew what would have happened if Koji had not acted so heroically? Likely, they would have been put on display like a carnival side-show. Destiny would never have gotten a moment of peace.

As with any tidbit of news, Dustin's outburst was being whispered and hissed of through the halls and walls. Embellishment, to be expected of course, especially from a particular little sister, gave him the strength to vanquish not one, but ten rude, would be suitors. (It did not take Bea, however, to overplay the exploits of Ezra, Phineas, and Gus. They gladly did that themselves.) Unable to just relax, Destiny decided to go out and run errands. Dustin had stayed with her as long as he could, and they enjoyed each other's company as she tried to summarize the big events of the past forty years.

Her day of errands came to a quick close, however, after the unsettling amount of stares she got at the laundromat. She was glad she was suspended from work for a while. It seemed as if everyone in Liberty Square had seen the newscast. Celebrity status being something she wanted no part of, she quickly gathered her clean clothes and went home.

By the time she got to the mansion, everyone had relaxed considerably. This was most evident in Emily, who skipped through the foyer chanting, "He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me..." pulling petals off an already wilted daisy.

"She's in a good mood," remarked Destiny, folding a towel.

"Uh huh," Dustin replied distractedly, clumsily handling a pair of jeans. Laundry, he quickly realized, was not only something incredibly embarrassing to a chap such as himself, but maddeningly difficult.

Laughing, Destiny gently took the pants from him and finished the chore herself. With a sheepish smile, Dustin mumbled, "Sorry about that," and scratched the back of his neck.

Grinning, Destiny chuckled, "I'd rather have you be a good cook. You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think more has happened to me in a week than in the past fifteen years."

"Is that good or bad?" asked Dustin.

Carefully, Destiny placed a small rag on top of the towel pile. "I'd have to say..." Drawing the word out, she rolled her eyes upwards. The more impatient Dustin looked, the longer she took. "...aaayyyyy... Good. Very good."

"Oh, very good. Well, that's nice," he commented dryly.

"Hey!" Flinging a pair of socks through his face, she picked up the laundry basket and they went to the linen closet to put away towels. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the smirking face of George Gracey. "George," she asked with an arched eyebrow, "what are you doing in there?"

Darting his eyes around, he put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Clairece and I are hiding from L. L. She'll never look in here." He beamed proudly.

"But it's a really obvious spot."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. "If you were looking for someone like me, would you check the obvious places? Or would you search all the really inventive ones?"

She had to laugh. "It's odd how the gears in your mind turn sometimes."

Tapping the side of his head, he said, "You forget, I was an attorney. I made a, heh, living thinking backwards in logical nonsense." Azure eyes widening as he peeked over Destiny's shoulder, he suddenly shut the door.

Destiny turned to see the youngest ghost skipping down the hall. Occasionally, she paused in her bounding to peek into a room. She stopped by the couple and Dustin winked and pointed to the closet. Hardly able to contain her laughter, the dead girl flung open the door. "Ha! Found you!"

"No fair!" griped Gracey as he stepped out. "You little cheater!" He tickled her to the point of giggly squeals. After exhausting her, he picked her up and put her on his shoulders. "What say we go find Clairece, hmm?"

Watching George's and L. L.'s interaction, Destiny couldn't help but remember her own father and all the moments they shared. Feeling a cold touch on her shoulder, she looked into Dustin's loving and concerned eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, fine." She smiled and started putting away towels. "Just thinking." As she reached up towards the top shelf, the sheet Dustin had haphazardly tossed up there yesterday tumbled out. Lunging down, Dustin tried to snatch it before she did. Seeing his worry, she smirked and quickly grabbed it. With a flick of the wrist, she shook out the bedclothes to survey it. "Okay," she laughed, "who cut eyeholes in the sheet?"

George looked up at Little Leota and she looked down at him. Grinning like Cheshire cats, they declared, "Dustin did it!"

"Why do I get blamed for everything around here?" the Englishman asked.

"Because," L. L. climbed down from her father's shoulders and he placed her on the floor, "you're the perfect scapegoat, Mr. Dust." She gestured for Dustin to stoop down so she could whisper in his ear. "See? I told you to just admit your feelings."

"And I can't thank you enough." He ruffled her hair before she dashed off to search for Clairece.

"Hey," Destiny peered at a corner of the sheet. "It's monogrammed." She waved it tauntingly at George. "'G. G.'"

His jaw dropped in shock. "My blankie!" he cried, snatching it and holding it close.

Rolling her eyes, Destiny put away the rest of the towels and slid the basket under the bottom shelf. Well, laundry was done at least. Now what? "You guys are unemployed and don't want to be seen by a lot of people. What do you do to break the monotony?"

"Count down the seconds until you go mad," George mumbled. He stared into the distance and clutched his sheet in his fists.

"And if you're already crazy?" Destiny joked.

The dead aristocrat daintily folded his "blankie". Carefully, he placed it on the uppermost shelf. Then he smoothed out any wrinkles. Normally, Destiny would have laughed at the flamboyancy, but there was something very thoughtful about his actions. "That sheet used to go to my bed when I was a young boy. It's the only thing I have left of my childhood. My mother embroidered the initials." He spoke softly. "It was the last gift she gave me before she left." He sighed.

"I'm sorry," Dustin apologized. How was he to know? He had just grabbed a random sheet out of the closet. It did not occur to him to check it for a name.

As if he had not even heard Dustin, George continued. "Lunatic. She took an axe to my father's head. Supposedly he'd been with another woman. I was only ten years old." He stared up at the shelf.

Destiny didn't know what to say. The fact George sounded so calm about it made a reply even more awkward. Now she knew how everyone else felt when she was blunt about her childhood. "I was ten when my father died, too. Funny how history repeats itself, huh?" She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned and smiled. "One day, you're going to have to write all this down. A story that bizarre would make millions. And I'll probably need that money when I get fired."

Sheepishly, George said, "Sorry I squandered the family fortune. You would have been set."

"Say," Dustin cast nervous glances, "your mother isn't here, is she?" An image of Destiny waking to find a homicidal maniac standing over her bed, wielding a glistening hatchet, flashed across his mind's eye.

Shaking his head, George said, "No. I've never seen her here." He smiled his smug, yet thoughtful and mischievous smirk. "Would-would you like to see her? Her portrait, I mean. I don't think I properly showed you the gallery." His azure eyes sparkled anxiously a Destiny.

Smiling back, the mortal couldn't refuse. George was in his "tell-all" mood. After keeping his painful secrets in for decades, he was finally getting them off his chest and it was doing him a world of good. The smarminess had been replaced by joviality; he was enjoying the fatherhood he never experienced when he was alive; and he had a new, dare she say, healthier glow. It seemed that she was the only one he told these things too. The thought that she was helping him so much made her happy. Destiny wondered if she had gone through any such transformation after being around Dustin. Thinking back on the past few days, she didn't have to wonder for long.

"Sure. I was curious about what was on those paintings. Never got a good look at them while you were showing off your corpse." She smirked at his sheepish expression. "Plus, I'd like to take a good look at the ceiling. Since I've got time on my hands, maybe I can do some repair work."

George chuckled. "Great. I have a spice rack that needs to be fixed, too, and-and the fan in the parlor wobbles oddly, and then there's the upstairs-Hey!" He had to float very quickly to keep up with her.

Lit and sans corpse, the gallery was a peaceful place. However, once the entryway was closed, it still radiated that feeling of foreboding. The air was thick and dense, suffocating. Fully lit by the light of the candles held in the hands of the gargoyle sconces, the portraits were much easier to see. George, with help from Dustin, swept away years of cobwebs to reveal the detailed faces underneath.

"Is that her?" Destiny asked, pointing to a painting of a silver-haired woman clasping a rose and smiling sweetly.

"Yes," George answered darkly, his hand resting on the metal frame. "Don't let that smile fool you. I've never forgiven her for what she did. I admit, my father was out of line and I do sympathize with her for having her trust betrayed, but that's no excuse for taking a life. I wish they would have gotten a divorce. They wouldn't have. That whole social standing thing, you know. People of their generation believed that you should be miserable rather than end a marriage. Doubly so if you were of the upper-class."

Turning around, George noticed that Destiny's attention was now on a portrait of another woman. "And that," he said in a quiet, reserved voice, "was Lily."

Lily stood with a salmon colored parasol daintily held in her gloved hands. Her light brown hair was pulled up in a neat bun on top of her head, and thick ringlets dangled in the back. She wore a maroon top, which contrasted a bit with her light pink, puffy, short sleeves. Her skirt was white with a paisley flower pattern on it. Around her neck was a thin gold chain from which dangled a heart shaped locket with a tiny diamond in the center of it. A solemn frown curled her pale lips downward.

"She looks a lot like how I imagine Grandma did when she was young," Destiny observed. "She was really pretty George. George?" The ghost didn't reply.

Sadly, he floated up to the picture. "I haven't looked at it in so long," he murmured. "With the exception of the hanging skeleton stunt, I really don't come in here. It's just so painful." He shut his eyes before they could fill with tears.

Now standing beside Destiny, Dustin whispered, "They were so in love. There was no doubt in my mind the feelings they had for one another."

"Did you know her well?" asked Destiny.

Nodding, he told her, "Lily was the first friend I made in the states." He tried to suppress chuckles. "She was the first person I gave a ride to. I still didn't know my way around and I was so nervous. I said I could drive, so I was just thrown in a cab and given the job."

Dustin bashfully grinned down at his feet. "I just got so flustered. I think she noticed how nervous I was. She hadn't said anything up to that point, and then I head from the back, 'I thought London cabbies were supposed to have the best road memory'. And I replied, 'Yeah, but I'm from right outside of London.'" He smiled fondly at the memory. "She laughed and patted my shoulder and gave me step-by-step instructions. I don't know why she didn't earlier. Must have liked watching me panic. We met again when Asher was invited to a party here and brought me and Bea along. As a joke, she gave me a compass. I kept it on my dashboard for the rest of my life."

Studying the portrait again, Destiny said, "I wish I could have met her."

"You two really would have hit it off-" He was cut off as George let out a startled cry. When he looked up, he saw what was wrong.

The portraits were stretching. But they weren't just growing longer. As they lengthened, more and more of the paintings were being shown. A smirking man in a green derby had actually been sitting on the shoulders of a man…who in turn was sitting on the shoulders of another man…who was waist deep in quicksand. The next portrait, the stern, bearded visage of one of George's uncles, who wore a black suit and a sash, and clutched some rolled up document, was revealed to be standing on a lit keg of dynamite in his briefs.

"Must have gone out with a bang," Destiny murmured. "Why isn't he wearing pants?"

"Don't ask," Master Gracey blurted. His eyes were still transfixed on the paintings.

The mad mother was now sitting on a long gravestone. It read 'Rest in Peace Dear Beloved George'. At the base of the headstone was a bust of George (Senior), with a small ax embedded in it.

Lily's was probably the most gruesome of all. She was balanced on a thin, unraveling rope. Beneath her petite feet was a crocodile waiting with open jaws.

"Oh Lily," George whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Geor…"

Blinking confusedly, he looked at the painting. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"…ge…"

"Ge! I heard a ge!"

"George!"

Destiny's eyes grew wide. "I heard it that time!"

"So did I," said Dustin. "It sounded like it was coming from the painting!"

All three of them stared at Lily's portrait, waiting. Then they heard the voice again. It was so soft they had to concentrate to understand it. It was a muffled, echoic noise, like something yelled through a megaphone that had a thin rag covering the end. "Please…Please God!"

George screamed, "LILY!" He grabbed the frame as if to shake it. "I can hear you! Speak! Please!"

Louder this time, it said, "George! I've been waiting for so long!" It was coming from the canvas, but the picture itself didn't move. She sobbed. "It's hard to get through and it doesn't last long."

"Where are you?" George patted down the painting, searching for some kind of hidden door. "Just float through! You can do it!" he commanded frantically.

"I've tried! Oh, lordy, have I tried! I'm stuck in here, George. It's a prison. I can hardly see and hear the outside. I was cursed to remain in this foggy limbo. I can only get through for a short time, but it takes so much energy. Destiny will be cursed too, if Leota isn't stopped!"

"Stopped? Stopped from what? How do you know Destiny?"

Softer, Lily explained, "I try to listen whenever I think anyone comes in here. I mean, really I have nothing better to do, do I?" The chuckle did not quite come out. "Mostly, though, I hear Leota. She taunts me, tells me that she's got a plan to get out. She just needs someone, and I'm sorry to say I think that someone is our great-granddaughter."

Speaking up, the mortal asked, "What does she need me for?"

"I don't know, honey. I wish I did. But," her tone lightened, "Leota's getting angry. Seems she was going to get into the heads of everyone in the city with that stunt earlier. If it wasn't for that Koji fella stepping up and putting a halt to it, it might have worked."

Laughing, George lightly stroked her painted cheek. "It's so wonderful to hear your voice again, Lily. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, darlin'. I'm-It's getting tough to get through. I can't speak much longer…"

"No! Please stay!" he sobbed. "Please!" He beat the frame with his fists, crying out. "I'm sorry, Lily! I'm so sorry for everything!" Ectoplasmic tears rained down his cheeks. "I need you."

"Shh, shh," she soothed. George could almost feel her stroke the hair off of his forehead like she used to when he was worried. As Lily's voice grew fainter and fainter, they could hear her sing. "The heart may fear the darkness, but please don't be afraid…" Then she was gone, sucked back into the purgatory.

George slowly sank, falling to his knees on the carpet. Destiny and Dustin tentatively approached him, not knowing what to do. They stood back and waited for him to say something. But he was lost in his own thoughts. It had been another one of those nights when he should have been paying more attention. But then again, how was he to know what was about to transpire?

October 1927...

It was almost midnight, but no one made a move to leave or go to bed, probably because they were so sleepy. Bea, who felt the others lacked common sense, had retired to one of the Gracey's guest bedrooms and was now sleeping soundly. Dustin was drifting off in his chair, letting a glass of wine and the warmth of the fire dull his senses. Phineas kept drifting off, too, but he seemed to be exhausted with sickness. Over the past couple of days, he had become pale and had even lost weight. Amelia came back into the foyer from checking on Bea. Leaning over the love seat, she wrapped her plump arms around Phineas's neck and hugged him. Smiling up at her, he patted her hand and she took a seat on the arm of his chair. The only noise came from a tall, thin man who was a lot less skeletal looking than he would later be in his ghostly form. Ezra tweaked with the dial on the radio.

"Ain't never anything good on at this time," he griped. "No one plays new music this late."

"Probably because they've got enough sense to go to sleep," Lily joked. She sat on a sofa, leaning against George, the top of her head resting on his cheek. He had his arms wrapped around her waist. Occasionally, she'd pull his hand down on her belly and they'd both giggle as the baby kicked.

"Well, I know someone who isn't tired." George smiled. Lily smirked up at him. "You're not going to let me sleep either, are you?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

When Dustin gave him a questionable look, George explained, "If he's active, she sleeps facing my back so I get kicked all night." The others laughed, even George.

"What do you mean, 'he'?" Lily asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. She turned her torso to face him and poked his chest. "I think she's a girl. And who are you to argue ?"

"Fine, fine!" He raised his hands in surrender. "Just wait 'till he's born. We'll see who's right." Lovingly he stroked her belly. "Won't we Alexander?"

"Alexia," Lily corrected.

"Bah!" Ezra gave up on the radio and took a seat at the far end of the couch. "Nothing good on."

Phineas looked up wearily. "Did you try the oldies station?"

"I hate old music."

"I like old music!"

"New!"

"Old!"

Lily rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. The brothers always quarreled. Remembering her days as a young girl in the church choir, she got an idea. Softly, she began to sing, making up a lullaby as she went along.

Rest your weary head, my dear,

Close your weary eyes.

Though the day is long, my dear,

Soon you'll realize...

Phineas and Ezra stopped their bickering and listened. George put his comforting arms around her again and snuggled down into the cushions. Dustin let his head fall back and he shut his eyes. Amelia was oddly alert.

Lily continued, raising her voice.

Sleep now is calling to you,

To wrap you in sweet bliss.

And soon it will claim me, too,

So take my night's last kiss.

The heart may fear the darkness,

But please don't be afraid.

Your soul shines bright through night's mists,

And guides us to the day.

So rest your weary head, my love,

And close your weary eyes.

The silver moon hangs high above,

In starless, darkened skies...

Exhausted, she tucked her head under George's chin. That melodious voice with that Georgia twang he loved so much, had nearly lulled him to sleep. He saw Amelia get up before his eyes shut. As slumber took him, he heard his aunt say, "Dustin, psst! Wake up! We need to talk. Come with me to the kitchen, now. You know Lily's due any day now…"

George lifted his head from his hands and stared blearily at the striped wallpaper. Now he knew she wasn't talking to him about the possibility of an emergency drive to the hospital; she was planning was getting rid of his child. Rage flared in him. How dare he! How dare Dustin plot against him like that! Why, he should wring his neck-

"George?"

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into the face of the traitor. Dustin had betrayed his trust. If he had told him Amelia and Lily's plan, he could have put a stop to it!

"Are you all right?"

"All right?" Of course he wasn't all right! If they weren't already dead… But they were dead. And Dustin thought he had been helping Lily. George knew that every intention Dustin had was good. Shaking his head, George stood up. For a moment there, he had thought like his mother. He shuddered. At least he was able to control that rage and reason through it, unlike-

"Weakling!"

"What?" Destiny and the two men turned to the source of the yell. It had come from the other side of the gallery. "Not her, too."

"You pathetic weakling!" George's mother spat. "Just like your father: break down and cry like a baby when things don't go your way. You little brat. I should have killed you too!" Cackling maniacally, she sent chills down the trio's spines.

Dustin tightened his grip on George's shoulder. Sneering at the painting of the mad matriarch, he hissed, "Come on, let's leave."

The crone clicked her tongue. "Tsk, listening to some foreigner now? Hmm… And who's this hussy?"

Destiny bristled and clenched her fists.

"Oh, right. The granddaughter. I can't believe you bred with that piece of trash!"

George's nostrils flared. With a shaking hand, he pointed at the picture. "Shut up, mother!"

"I should have known you would be stupid enough to fall for that tramp! Men, none of you think with your brains. I should have strangled you when you were born, you worthless little-"

"GO TO HELL!" The yell hadn't come from George. It had sprang from Destiny's lips. She put a protective arm across George's shoulders. "Don't you dare speak to him like that! You have no right, you withered hag!"

George's mother seemed at a loss for words. Unfortunately, she thought of something to say. "You talk boldly now, you repugnant harlot, but just you wait. You'll get yours."

"Let's leave," Destiny murmured. She and Dustin walked George out. Even with the door closed, they could hear, "She'll get you! She'll get you all!" followed by crazed laughter. Thankfully, it quickly died down, just like Lily's voice had.

"Something about Lily's portrait was really familiar," Destiny said, breaking a silence that had lasted for nearly five minutes. The three of them were sitting solemnly on the foyer couch, mulling over what had just happened.

Emily skipped through the room. "He has my heart. He doesn't have my heart. He has…"

"Where does she keep getting flowers?" Dustin asked as the bride disappeared through a wall. "And who is she even talking about?"

Lifting her chin from her palm, Destiny's eyes brightened. "That's it! The heart locket! My grandmother gave it to me when I was a kid!"

"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't think I saw it again after…that night. She must have put it on our daughter, and she, in turn, gave it to you." Hopefully he asked, "You don't still have it, do you? It's just that I gave it to Lily on our first anniversary, so it's very special."

With a smile, Destiny chirped, "Yeah! I just wear it on special occasions. In fact, when I got here, I unpacked it and put it in the dresser drawer. I keep it in a cushioned velvet black box to keep it safe. Would you like to see it, George?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Please." He watched as Destiny went to her room. Patiently he waited, tapping his fingers on his knees. Then he twiddled his thumbs for a bit.

Destiny came back to find the two men engaged in a thumb war. When she cleared her throat, they broke it up immediately with embarrassed chuckles. Staring at her feet, she sighed. "I'm really sorry, George, but I can't find it. I know I brought it with me, and I remember putting it in the drawer. I emptied it out, and all the other drawers too." When she looked up at his face, she felt even more wretched. "The next time I talk to Koji, I'll ask him if any of those freaks have sticky fingers. I can't think of anywhere else it would be." Exasperated, she huffed and put a hand on her hip. "I'm really sorry."

Trying to mask his disappointment, George mumbled, "It's all right. I was just hoping to see it again. I hope we can get it back."

Destiny sat next to George. She hugged him and he embraced her back. "I love you, Grandpa."

Pulling back, he blinked in surprise and smiled. "I love you to, granddaughter." Staring past her head, he glared at the closet door. "Would you help me do something vaguely symbolic?"

In the backyard, George burned his sheet. Destiny watched as the wind carried away the ashes. The breeze whipped her hair across her face but left the two dead men unaffected. Silently they watched the black specks as they scattered and faded into the distance. No one said anything as they all pondered the same thing: What did Leota have planned?

A/N: For returning readers, you'll notice I changed the song. I was just too uncomfortable with using "I'll Fly Away." It was against the TOS to do that, and I apologize. This new song is one I wrote and I've titled it, "Lily's Lullaby."