Page 65 of The Haunting of William Thorn

Some secrets were hidden in shadows, kept from the light.

Others, the more damning secrets, were buried, but unlike Robert Thomas as they first thought, he was never buried in the back garden of Hanbury Manor.

And it turned out that his remains had been cleaned and preserved, placed in a box and hidden at the back of a draw like a dirty secret.

This change in detail unearthed more questions.

If Robert’s bones were kept in a chest, concealed away with all the other dark past, then who was buried beneath the gravestone?

William spun on the window, slapping the lid closed and turning his attention to the view beyond Hanbury Manor. He clawed at the dust and grime coating the glass, leaving finger marks until he could see outside.

The gravesite lay in the distance. William’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes rested upon a man standing beside it.

He’d seen this man before, a face etched in oil paints but also the face of the man behind him. Teddy Jones, Edward’s lost great-uncle, leaned against the gravestone.

His gravestone.

If what William believed was true, Teddy was wrongly buried and hidden beneath another name. Concealed in a place no one would have the thought to look.

Teddy Jones wore a loose shirt, rolled up to the sleeves, his grey skin shimmering in the dull light.

William watched the apparition draw a cigarette to his mouth, inhaling deeply until smoke left parted lips, carrying skyward.

Remnants of soil caked his bare arms, smudged around his clothing like he was just taking a break from gruelling garden work.

“They buried your Teddy in the gardens,” William admitted, unable to remove his eyes from what he was seeing. “That’s how they hid him. They pretended to bury their son but put Teddy there instead, knowing no one would go and dig up the grave of a grieving family…”

Edward didn’t respond, although William heard him move. There was the shuffling of feet, the grunt of laboured breathing. Any moment, Edward would stand beside the window and witness what caught William’s attention.

He would’ve looked away from Teddy Jones’s ghost if he hadn’t lifted his hand in what looked like a salute. Fingers outstretched towards the window, curling inwards as if he was reaching for something.

The box under William’s arm grew heavy, and he knew exactly what Teddy wanted.

Peace. To be reunited with his love, who’d been shut away in a box for years. A love who’d used William himself to dig up that grave with his bare hands – and now he knew why.

He could not bring them back from the dead, but he could at least bring them together.

Regardless of time or the physicality of the corporal world – Teddy and Robert’s love for one another defied natural laws.

And yet, to William, their love was the most natural thing of all.

“I know what I need to do,” William whispered, breath fogging on the glass before him. “I finally know how to free Hanbury of its sins.”

Then he heard it – the click of a lock and the turn of a handle. He spun around, suddenly aware that Edward hadn’t moved towards him but away from him.

Edward stood in the now open doorway, letter-opener in hand, the softest yet saddest smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You did it. You solved the mystery and helped me even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Edward.” William took a cautious step towards him. “What are you doing?”

“Making up for past wrongs,” Edward said, his smile faltering, the grip on the letter-opener trembling. “You’ve done this for me, so I am going to do this for you.”

“Stop it,” William snapped, anger, fear, and panic colliding inside him. “Don’t–”

But it was too late. Edward closed the door on William before he could run across the room to stop him.

The box of bones cracked against the floor, spilling its contents around him.

Not caring for anything but preventing Edward from making a mistake, he thrust his full weight into the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

He heard the lock click again, followed by the jingle of keys. That didn’t stop him from fighting.

He slammed his fists into the wood until his flesh and bones ached. He screamed and pleaded until his throat dried and threatened to close. Then, when he knew there was nothing he could do, William leaned his forehead against it and cried.

“This was always going to happen,” Edward’s voice was muffled beyond it. “I owe Archie a debt and vow to see it through. Just like he wanted a future at Hanbury for you, I will ensure it. No matter what.”

Words flooded out of William so loud he didn’t care if the living and dead could both hear them. “But what if I want you in it? Did you think about that even for a second before making sure a stupid… fucking unhinged decision?”

“There are still unanswered questions, ones that Mike may have. It’s worth a try.” Edward went quiet for a moment.

“Can we stop prioritising the dead, hey? Why not focus on us, the living, and not making stupid decisions!”

“When it comes to you, William Thorn, no decision is stupid. Quiet now…” William could almost picture Edward turning towards the sound of pounding feet. Mike was coming back to finish it, drawn like a moth to the flame from of all my shouting. “Cover your ears, and don’t come out until it is over.”

Something gentle tapped against his foot. Looking down William saw the keys being slid beneath the door – a last gift from Edward.

William knew he’d be too late, regardless of how quickly he picked them up and began jamming the keys into the lock. Unlike the movies, a fight never lasted long. Especially when one of the parties was already at death’s door. But that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Well, well, well,” Mike Dean’s deep voice filled Hanbury’s expanse. “Do you know what I’ve just found?”

Edward must’ve said something quietly, but William didn’t catch it.

“We could put this behind us, me and you. My father, and his father, are well practiced in the art of hiding things. And I have a place we could dump it, somewhere no one would ever find it.”

William was either too distressed, or lost to his mind, to even begin to understand what Mike was talking about.

“What do you want from us?” Edward shouted, voice breaking with the force.

“Peace. I want the secrets to stay hidden. Names to not be tarnished. It’s my duty, as it was my father’s duty, to make sure what happened here never sees the light of day.”

He heard a door to the study slam shut, followed by a deep grunt. William’s mind roared with the need to get out of the room, to help Edward and to prevent any more mistakes from happening.

“We’ve got two options. Either we can leave Hanbury behind,” Mike said, “no one has to know what you did, and my family’s past can stay where it should be left.

No one has to know what my great-grandfather did.

The world will continue as if the past never happened.

Or you refuse and get the joy of spending the rest of days buried alongside your dark truth. ”

“Who killed Teddy Jones?”

“Circumstance killed him.”

“Who. Killed. Teddy. Jones.”

Mike answered Edward, but his voice was too quiet for William to hear. Whatever answer he gave conjured a war cry out of Edward.

There was a struggle. Brief. Over before it ever really began.

A heavy thud landed against the door, followed by the tale-tell sign of a body sliding down wood. Heavy panting and broken, rasped breathing told William all he needed to know. Someone was hurt – and badly.

Neither man spoke again.

“Edward,” William shouted, trying key after key until the right one fit. “Edward, Edward, Edward ! Answer me…”

Only silence replied, broken occasionally by a groan.

When the lock finally clicked open, something wet splashed against William’s foot.

Blood seeped in beneath the crack in the door, puddling and soaking beneath cracks in the wooden panels.

It took considerable effort to push the door open, considering something weighty leaned against it.

Not once did he stop shouting for Edward; whose silence was louder than any scream William could release. But that all died as he saw the carnage outside the room.

Slumped in the precipice to the secret room, Mike Dean lay, bleeding out.

The letter opener was jammed into his gut, blood-slick hands clutching at it, shaking so viciously he had no hope of freeing it.

He was alive, for now, but that didn’t mean he saw anything beyond his own pain.

Because as William walked around him, leaving bloodied footprints in his wake, Mike just stared through him, mumbling something beneath his rasped breath.

Edward was slumped against the desk, legs outstretched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open long enough to watch William come to kneel before him.

“What did you do?” William sobbed, clutching his jumper, wanting nothing more than to unleash his relief. “Talk to me. God, Edward, you scared me. You fucking scared me. Edward Jones, just say something!”

Edward simply smiled up at William, tired eyes glittering with an emotion William couldn’t place. Was it shared relief or the shock that came because he was still alive – something they both didn’t expect? “I’m okay now.”

“Really?” William barked as Mike Dean dribbled a mouthful of blood down his chin. “You look like shit.’

Edward sat up, leaning his weight into William, skin paler than fresh paper. “I feel like shit.”

“Never do that again,” William said, clutching him tight. “Never ever do that again. Do you understand me?”

Edward’s eyes fluttered closed and stayed like that for a beat too long. William released his grip and laid a hand on his cheek, glad to feel a pulse as his other hand searched for one. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” William stammered, snot and tear blending to one as he hulked out a laugh. “Don’t try and distract me.”