{"id":14,"date":"2010-08-24T16:14:51","date_gmt":"2010-08-24T16:14:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/?p=14"},"modified":"2012-07-02T22:01:51","modified_gmt":"2012-07-02T22:01:51","slug":"that-fateful-halloween","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/that-fateful-halloween\/","title":{"rendered":"That Fateful Halloween"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The<\/a><\/p>\n

A Black Spectre Adventure<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

BRENT GREGOR had long dreaded Halloween. The holiday, if one could call it that, brought nothing but old, very painful memories of that night so long ago. The night that he never wanted to remember, but could never, ever forget.<\/p>\n

But this particular Halloween, as Brent stood on the downtown rooftop in the cold night air, things were different. For nearly six months earlier, in exchange for the ability to walk again, he had taken on a new guise \u00e2\u20ac\u201c that of The Black Spectre. In exchange for the simple joy of once again standing on his own two feet, of feeling like a whole man, of feeling stronger than ever before, he was forced to stalk the night and bring justice to those who have none. It was a price he had been well prepared to pay.<\/p>\n

As he gazed down on the cold, bitter streets of Terminal City, his mind drifted elsewhere. He couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help but wonder if this particular Halloween would be any different from the last fifteen. For as strong as he was physically, it was those terrible memories of that fateful night so long ago that still haunted him deep inside.<\/p>\n

Bernard Worthington, Brent Gregor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dignified and faithful valet, sat in the long black car and tightened his thick wool coat around his neck in an attempt to escape the growing chill. It would take some more time to get used to nights like these. He wondered how Master Gregor withstood the evening temperatures as he prowled the rooftops above. He wondered even more if this nightly vigil would continue once winter had fully set in.<\/p>\n

Worthington was startled when he heard a small tap on the glass of his car window. His thoughts raced for a lie that he hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t been prepared to tell that would explain his presence. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been certain that he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d parked the car well enough into the dark alley so as not to be seen.<\/p>\n

He let out a quick sigh of relief as the dark figure with the gleaming skull mask peered inside. Mere seconds later, The Black Spectre climbed into the back seat and closed the door behind him. Worthington wondered if the cold had been too much for him as well, but he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t about to suggest it.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re back earlier than I expected, Sir,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d was all that he could muster without being impolite.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I just can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stop thinking about it,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent Gregor answered as he pulled off the hat and mask. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Please, take me home.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course, Sir,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington answered as he started the motor and put the dark-curtained automobile gear.<\/p>\n

Brent said nothing more on the long drive back to Lakeview Heights. Worthington checked on him via the mirror periodically. The troubled expression on his face said more than could ever have been spoken with words. As Brent Gregor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s trusted servant and the only \u00e2\u20ac\u0153family\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he had left, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d hoped the young man would have found more than physical strength with his newfound abilities. Perhaps it would take more time, he thought.<\/p>\n

As they entered the upscale neighborhood, Brent finally spoke up again. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Take me by the Patterson House, please.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Worthington glanced back at him again, puzzled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you sure, Sir?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent answered with reassurance. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be fine. But don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t park too close. Keep the car hidden.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Worthington did as instructed and steered the car the extra few blocks to the Patterson House, a large, old manor with an ornate porch that sat well off the street. The children of Lakeview Heights knew this house well, and it had been a ritual for as long as anyone could remember for all \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Trick-or-Treaters\u00e2\u20ac\u009d to visit it each Halloween. One by one they would each step up on the porch and stare into the smudged window on the front door to see if they could spot a ghost. Brent wondered if the children still did this. He quickly got his answer.<\/p>\n

As soon as they came into view of the house, he could see them lined up. And there in the middle of the group was the tallest child and ringleader, Julius Kennelly. Only this was Julius III, the son of his own youthful nemesis. Some things never change, he thought, as the memories of his own terrible initiation rushed straight back to him.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

JULIUS KENNELLY II, then all of fourteen, looked at them, eye to eye, one at a time. Pointing at each one with his pirate sword, he asked, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So, who\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s brave enough to go up there and look?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Young Brent, barely ten at the time, immediately knew that he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t. He stepped quickly back behind the others so as not to be noticed. He hoped deep in his heart that someone else would decline, too, so that he would not be the only one.<\/p>\n

Julius was the first to look, of course, showing himself to be the bravest. One by one the other children followed and peered into the dark windows of the front door. Brent assumed that none of them saw anything, because they all turned away, giggling nervously. Still, that wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t enough to give him courage enough to do it himself.<\/p>\n

His heart sank as the other two young children, Billy Wentworth and his little sister Abigail, perhaps more afraid of Julius than whatever ghost lurked inside that old house, stepped up on the porch and looked in as well.<\/p>\n

At last, it was down to just young Brent. He hoped that no one had noticed that he was the only one who had yet to look.<\/p>\n

But they did.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Julius asked him and tapped his sword in his hand. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You gonna do it or not?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent wanted nothing more than to race down the street, back to where Worthington waited for him by the car. He stared wide-eyed back at Julius. His pulse pounded. His lip quivered. The other kids stared at him, too, waiting. If he chickened out, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d never hear the end of it.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Come on, you little baby!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d shouted Julius. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Get up there!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent stood frozen in fear. He wanted to move. He wanted to do something. But he did not want to go up on that porch.<\/p>\n

He looked around for sympathy.<\/p>\n

There was none.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Come on, let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s leave the little baby by himself,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d laughed Julius. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He needs to go home to his Mommy.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Julius started off, leading the other kids away.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Wait!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d called Brent.<\/p>\n

Julius turned back around. This was Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s final chance.<\/p>\n

He looked up at the porch. He did everything he could to steel his courage and started down the walk. He gripped the tiny handles of his toy pistols. He knew they wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do any good, but it still made him feel better. He could barely feel his feet touch the cold sidewalk before he found himself take the first step of the creaking old porch.<\/p>\n

Before him, inescapable, was the large front door. The bottom half was solid wood, but the top half was split into two large windows of equal size. There would be no quick peek. He would have to look deep inside.<\/p>\n

Brent finally reached the door itself. There was just enough light from the gas street lamps to see into the front hallway. The inside was dark and littered with shadows. It still frightened him, but not so much as he had expected. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d done it.<\/p>\n

Brent felt a quick sense of relief and was just about to turn away when something caught his eye. It was glowing and just appeared out of the darkness.<\/p>\n

Without thinking, he turned back to get a better look.<\/p>\n

It was a face. A woman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s face. She was in pain. He could have sworn she called out to him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Help me!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

With ghostly hands, she clawed for the doorway.<\/p>\n

Brent screamed at the top of his lungs and raced off the porch. He barreled straight through the gaggle of children, knocking some of them down in his wake.<\/p>\n

He could hear Julius\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 laughter as he raced down the street as fast as his small legs could carry him. He didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know if he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d truly seen a ghost or if it had only been his imagination. But he knew he wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t feel safe until he was home.<\/p>\n

Brent rounded the corner and felt a huge sigh of relief when he saw Worthington standing next to the long, black family car. He ran straight into the large Englishman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s arms with such force that it nearly winded the middle-aged man. Worthington looked down at his young charge, whose eyes were full of tears and whose body shook uncontrollably.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why, Master Gregor,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington asked. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Whatever is the matter?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent just shivered and held him tightly.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

BRENT could still feel the clutch of Worthington\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s grasp as he stood hidden in the shadows that overlooked the old house. He smiled for a moment at the memory of Abbie when they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been so small. He had disliked her so much then. How things changed.<\/p>\n

Looking back at the ritual that was repeating itself before him, he felt for the smaller ones that were bullied by young Julius III and thought that perhaps the apple could be swept away from the tree.<\/p>\n

As the younger Julius stepped first up onto the porch, as his father had done so many times before, Brent focused his gaze on the door and outstretched his hand.<\/p>\n

As soon as young Julius reached the door, it swung ferociously open. Something unseen and with a strange tingle grabbed him by the waist and pulled him inside the dark portal. The children stood silent with mouths open wide as the door slammed shut and Julius III found himself on the inside, pounding on the glass, trying to get out.<\/p>\n

The children screamed and scattered in every direction.<\/p>\n

None were left to witness the door swing back open and young Julius came fast behind them into the night.<\/p>\n

Brent chuckled to himself, then wondered with a sense of guilt if he had used the son to gain revenge on the father. But perhaps the next Halloween, young Julius and the other kids that came after him would think twice before bullying the smaller ones into looking inside.<\/p>\n

At least that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what he told himself as he instructed Worthington to take him home.<\/p>\n

As they turned away from the Patterson House and drove the few blocks back to the Gregor Mansion, there were other, more painful memories that gripped the back of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was continually plagued by the images of what had happened later that same night, so long ago. When he walked back into the dark, empty foyer and looked up at the tall, winding staircase, it all came back to him. As if he were reliving it all over again.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

NANNY MIRIAM rushed quickly in to lead young Brent up the grand marble staircase that led to the second floor. Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s young mother, Sarah, rushed up to her son\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s room, kissing his forehead and holding him tightly until he had fully calmed down and was ready for his bath. Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s mother was as beautiful as she was melodic, her auburn hair let down for the night and cascading across her shoulders.<\/p>\n

After Miriam had gotten him ready for bed, Brent hoped that his father would be home soon. Though he was safely at home and recovered from his ordeal, he wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t feel truly comforted until his father was there with him.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

BRENT followed his memories up the grand staircase and down the hall to his old room. He hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t been in there in years, but it was immediately obvious that Worthington and the other servants had kept it clean and maintained, as they had the rest of the house. As he peered at his small bed, he thought it looked just the same as he remembered. It seemed like only yesterday since he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d stayed in that room last. He wanted it to feel so much longer.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

YOUNG BRENT sat up in bed the moment he heard his father coming up the long, winding staircase and then down the hall. He knew his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s footsteps \u00e2\u20ac\u201c quick and deliberate. Thomas Gregor was not a man who wasted time getting to where he was going. He was young and handsome, a man of courage and action. Everything a young son could dream his father to be.<\/p>\n

Though it was very late, Brent had resisted falling asleep before his father returned from work at the Court House. Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes lit up when Thomas opened the door. He was tired, but smiling, happy to finally be home with his family.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Did you win your case to-day, Father?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d asked Brent.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What are you still doing up?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound disappointed. His relief to be home, in the comfortable arms of his family, was too great for him to sound truly stern at this hour.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153He just couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get to sleep before you got home,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sarah Gregor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s soft, soothing voice chimed in behind his father. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He had a bit of a fright to-night.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Thomas brushed her tresses aside and gave her a soft kiss before going to Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s bedside.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Did you go with those kids to look at that old house?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent looked down, answering, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Father.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Thomas shook his head, but he more than understood the power of peer pressure. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It was that Julius Kennelly, wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d his father asked.<\/p>\n

Brent hung his head again. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Father.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Listen, Son,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas told him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Being brave doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mean doing a dare just because some older child like Julius puts you up to it. Being brave is standing up for yourself. Not letting others push you around. Do you understand?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Father,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent answered.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, I hope it didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t frighten you too much.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I saw something there, Father,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent told him.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas asked. Sarah perked up as well. She hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t heard this part of the story.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It was a face. A ghost. She cried out,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent told him.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you sure it wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t just your imagination?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas asked, unconvinced.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think so. It looked real.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Whether it was real or not, Brent was certainly convinced.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I assure you, Son, there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s no such thing as ghosts. Now you need to go to sleep.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas kissed his young son on the forehead then tucked him beneath the wool covers. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You can tell me more about it to-morrow. I love you, Son.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I love you, too, Father.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent smiled. This is for what he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been waiting. Now he could sleep soundly, comfortable and secure. Father was home.<\/p>\n

As Thomas stood at the door, he held Sarah and looked proudly at his only child. Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s young voice called out to him again.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Father, are there any ghosts in our house? I hear noises at night.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Thomas and Sarah smiled, then Thomas answered reassuringly, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think so, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an old house, and if there are any ghosts, then they would all be family and they would be here to look over you, just the same as we all do.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent wished his parents good night then closed his eyes as his father pulled the door closed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not all the way, Father.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thomas replied. He stopped so that a narrow bar of light from the hall stretched safely across the floor to Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s bed on the opposite wall.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I love you, Brent. Good-night.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

AS HE stood at the doorway for one last moment, it suddenly dawned on him that this was how the room must have looked to his father. Now finally able to stand again, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d never seen the room from that vantage point before. It was like a glimpse into the past, into another body. A chance to see a brief part of his own past, but through his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes.<\/p>\n

Brent turned around to find Worthington standing dutifully behind him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you certain you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re all right, Sir?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Bernard,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he answered, though with not as much reassurance as before. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Just thinking.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Brent handed Worthington the hat and mask, then removed his cloak and gloves. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Please, put these away if you don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mind. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be in my study.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course, Sir,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington answered.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

SADLY, what Thomas and Sarah Gregor had not known was that there had been a ghost out that night. A frightening one. While they were upstairs tucking in Brent, they didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t suspect the ghost that was making his way through the darkness across the mansion grounds. Neither they, nor their servants \u00e2\u20ac\u201c who had all retired for the night \u00e2\u20ac\u201c heard the breaking of glass in a distant, downstairs room as the ghost made his way inside. They didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t sense the lumbering footsteps as the ghost wandered through the endless hallways to where a light shone down from the staircase.<\/p>\n

They had no idea he was there at all until they came downstairs and surprised them in the hallway. Sarah barely managed a scream before a large hand with only three fingers covered her mouth. The other pointed a gun to her head.<\/p>\n

Thomas had no time to react, even if there were anything he could have done, before the husky voice barked out to him in broken English, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153In there \u00e2\u20ac\u201c if you wants her to live!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Three-Finger Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Vogel shoved Sarah forward, pointing them both towards Thomas\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 study. Moving into the dimly lit room filled with bookcases that stretched to the ceiling, Thomas was finally able to get a look at their attacker and assess the situation. Vogel towered over him and held his wife\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s very life in his iron grip. He was a huge man with bulldog-like features, dressed in a dark coat that seemed to barely contain his bulky form. There was nothing Thomas could do at the moment except comply and pray for her safety.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Open the safe.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Three-Finger Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s instructions were quick and guttural. Thomas took one look in his wife\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s frightened eyes and wasted no time in doing exactly as Ned ordered. He pushed aside the framed portrait that covered the safe and spun the dial as fast as he could. In seconds, the vault was open. He looked back at Ned, hoping to be rewarded for his obedience.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Empty it,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d was the only response.<\/p>\n

Thomas looked frantically on the desk. He grabbed an empty portfolio from beside a sword-shaped letter opener and scooped the papers and money inside with one quick motion. He turned back to Ned again, pleading with his eyes for his wife\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s safe release. If only he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had a weapon or some means to fight back. If anything were to happen to her or Brent, he thought, he would never forgive himself. Thank goodness Brent was upstairs asleep. Hopefully, he would stay safe.<\/p>\n

BUT Brent hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t been asleep. He had nearly drifted off when he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been jolted awake by his mother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s stifled scream. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d already faced one terror that night, but that one was nothing compared to what had happened downstairs. Whether the previous ghost had been real or imaginary, he had no idea. But this one had most definitely been real.<\/p>\n

As Brent stood at the top of the stairs and stared down at the dark hallway below, all he could think about were those terrible sounds coming back to haunt him. Worse yet was the still-stinging feeling of how helpless he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d felt. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d wanted to save his parents, and yet knew that there was little he could have done. He was only a child at the time and completely powerless. The memory of it all sickened him.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

WORRIED and frightened of what could be happening below, young Brent crept to the top of the stairs just in time to see Ned force his parents into the study. Though he only caught a glimpse, it was certainly long enough to see the gun in Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand.<\/p>\n

They needed help. And there was no one there but him.<\/p>\n

Brent ran quietly back to his parent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s bedroom and pushed open the large door. It creaked just a bit \u00e2\u20ac\u201c enough to make him stop and wait. But no additional sounds followed. As best he could tell, he was still safe.<\/p>\n

He rushed to the phone. He didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know how to call the police, but he knew well enough to ask for the Operator when he picked it up.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Operator? Operator?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he whispered quietly, his small voice full of panic.<\/p>\n

There was no answer. The phone line was dead.<\/p>\n

His young heart raced, terrified and barely able to think. Worthington and the other servants were all downstairs in the far wing. There was no way to reach them. If anything was to be done, Brent would have to act alone.<\/p>\n

Brent rushed back to the top of the stairs. He could hear the shouts of Ned and his father, broken only by his mother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cries.<\/p>\n

As Brent gripped the marble balusters of the banister, quivering from the sounds below, the words that his father had spoken just a short while ago suddenly came back to him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Being brave is standing up for yourself. Not letting others push you around.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

The man had a gun. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s why Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s father couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t fight back. But Brent had something his father didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t. He had surprise. He had to be brave. He had to do something to help. If he could knock away the man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s gun, his father could fight.<\/p>\n

Swallowing hard and mustering far more courage than he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d done to step on that porch, Brent crept quietly down the stairs.<\/p>\n

Careful not to be seen, he slid silently to the suit of armor that stood sentry in the hallway and quietly plucked the sword away from its mount. It was much heavier than he expected and he almost dropped it.<\/p>\n

Quickly, he moved to the open door of his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s study and peered inside. Just a few steps away, Ned stood there clutching his mother while his father bundled papers and valuables into a portfolio. Once again, fear overtook him. He was ready to drop the sword and run. But his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s words rang ceaselessly in his head. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Being brave is standing up for yourself.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

THE adult Brent walked slowly back down the stairs towards the study below. With each footstep his legs grew numb and plodding. He could hear each foot drop against the marble surface, but could no longer feel the sensation as they touched each step. His nightly duties long over, the Spirit Force was leaving him, forcing him to rest. He needed to make it downstairs to the study where his wheelchair waited. No matter his fantastic abilities, he could never truly escape it.<\/p>\n

When he finally reached the dark-paneled room, he stared up at the tall ceiling and high bookshelves. How huge that room had looked when he was small. It still looked huge to him in his adult years. Feeling his balance give way, he reached for the wall to keep from falling. He shifted his weight towards his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s large mahogany desk that sat there unmovable like a stone crypt. It was a just image, Brent thought, since his father had died upon it.<\/p>\n

He took another lurch forward and reached for the desk, hoping to catch himself and work his way around. But his strength had gone completely and he collapsed to the floor. He was helpless again.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

WITH no more time to think, young Brent made one bold move. Raising the heavy blade above his head, he charged in as fast as he could. He swung the sword down onto Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s outstretched arm with the pistol. But the blade was old and was dull and it only managed to knock Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand down, the pistol still firmly in his grip. Ned shouted more in surprise than pain.<\/p>\n

Sarah Gregor dropped to the floor as Ned whipped around to face his assailant. Ned had already pulled the trigger before Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s young face registered in his mind. Both Thomas and Sarah\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cries were immediately drowned out by the sound of the gun blast. Brent didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even realize what was happening until the bullet ripped into his side and knocked him to the floor, stunned and bleeding.<\/p>\n

In the only moment available to him, Thomas Gregor grabbed the letter opener from the desk and lunged at Ned\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s throat with all his might. But Ned was a formidable opponent and his deadly instincts were sharp and well-trained.<\/p>\n

The second shot hit Thomas clean in the chest. He fell almost in mid-air, slumping down face first on the desk.<\/p>\n

Instinct took over again as Ned pointed the gun once more at Sarah as she screamed and clambered for her husband. Without even thinking, he fired the gun a third time. The bullet threw her backwards as it grazed across her head. She crumpled to the floor in a hysteric bundle of tears, blood running down her beautiful, delicate face. Ned stared at her coldly, his large finger still on the trigger, taking in the realization of what he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d just done. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d never killed a woman before.<\/p>\n

Or a child, for that matter.<\/p>\n

He hesitated, then lowered his pistol just a bit. Instinct told him that the threat was over. This had not gone at all as planned and there would be hell to pay.<\/p>\n

He scooped up the portfolio from the floor then leaned over Thomas Gregor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lifeless body. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This is what you get for sticking your nose where it don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t belong.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Ned turned back to the door. Brent was lying there in a pool of blood, grasping his side. His face was turning pale. Approaching footsteps echoed down the distant hall. Maybe the kid would live, he thought. But if Ned didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t move soon, there would be still more killing to be done.<\/p>\n

Ned returned to the prostrate corpse of Thomas Gregor. Young Brent watched in delirious confusion as Ned dipped a thick, stubby finger into his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s blood and drew an \u00e2\u20ac\u0153X\u00e2\u20ac\u009d on the back of his shirt. Then Ned grumbled in his husky voice, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You been marked.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Ned rushed past Brent lying nearly unconscious on the floor and back down the hallway. He made his way back out the way he had come in. As he crawled out the window, he could hear the screams of the Servants as they discovered the bloodbath he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d left behind.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

WORTHINGTON rushed into the study to find Brent still on the floor as he struggled to pick himself up.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sir!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington exclaimed and rushed to Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s side.<\/p>\n

Though no tears streamed down Brent\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s face, Worthington could see them in his Master\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes and knew that the pain was not from falling. Not completely.<\/p>\n

Worthington lifted Brent up beneath the arms to get him in a sitting position. Though he was not a young man anymore, it was something he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d practiced many times over in the past several years. And each time he was glad that he still had the strength to do it.<\/p>\n

Seeing that Brent was physically well, Worthington grabbed the wheelchair and steered it over behind his employer. He lifted Brent again then pulled him up gently into the cushioned seat.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you all right, Sir?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington asked again, dutifully. He tried not to think of what would have happened had he not been there.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m okay,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent answered quietly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d like to just sit in here alone for a while.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Sir,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d said Worthington, then backed towards the open door. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153If you need anything…\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Brent replied, then gave a bit of a smile. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And Bernard, thank you. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know what I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d do without you here. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just great to have family nearby on nights like this.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Always here to be of service,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Worthington reassured, then closed the door behind him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A Black Spectre Adventure BRENT GREGOR had long dreaded Halloween. The holiday, if one could call it that, brought nothing but old, very painful memories of that night so long ago. The night that he never wanted to remember, but could never, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-black-spectre"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lightningbugpress.com\/blackhoodpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}