In the Angel's Keeping
A Killian Kendall Expanded Universe Short Story
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 2
“Killian, are you okay?” Judy called.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. I’d almost forgotten she was there. A trickle of sweat dropped into my eye and I swiped at it, then wiped my hand on my shorts.
Now that I knew I was in a graveyard, I looked for the headstone. I spotted it a few feet away, not far from the statue I’d been so intent on. I moved closer and pulled the vines away. The top of the marker was dome-shaped, with a relief carving of a ship at full sail in a circle. The inscription was worn and overgrown with moss, but I could still make it out: “Captain Elijah Marnien. Born October 16, 1795, Died October 15, 1860.” He’d passed away the day before his sixty-fifth birthday.
“Killian? Did you find something?”
“Just a minute,” I mumbled distractedly.
I looked around and noticed a second headstone a few feet away. I made my way to it and ripped at its vine covering. “Amalie Marnien. Wife of Captain Elijah Marnien. Born May 5, 1833, Died March 16, 1855.”
She’d died so young, only twenty-one years old.
I turned my attention to the statue. I began tearing the vines off the stone, but it was a different story than with the smooth gravestones. The vines were surprisingly strong and stubborn, and they had more surface to cling to. I realized that to really clear them away, I would have to cut them. I did manage to pull enough of them aside to figure out what the statue was. It was a beautifully carved angel, arms raised in a silent benediction, wings unfurled majestically behind.
“Killian?”
“I’m coming.” I pulled out my phone and took a few photos, then fought my way out through the thorny growth.
“Oh my God!” Judy gasped when she saw me. “What happened to you in there?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re all bloody.”
“I am?” I looked down at my hand and saw drying blood smeared across my fingers. I realized the sweat I had been wiping out of my eyes was actually blood. “I guess I got a little torn up by the briars.”
“You look like you barely escaped alive. Adam is going to kill me. What was in there? I hope it was worth all that.”
“Graves. The captain’s and Amalie’s, along with a statue of an angel.”
Judy’s eyes widened. “Very interesting.” She took a closer look at me. “Those scratches are going to start stinging very soon, if they haven’t already.”
They hadn’t, but she was right. By the time we got back up to the house, my skin felt like it was on fire.
Adam was coming out of the front door as I reached the porch. “I was wondering where you guys disappeared—” He stopped mid sentence and did a double-take that would have been comical if I hadn’t been so distracted by the stinging. “Dear God! What the hell happened? Is that blood? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It just stings.”
"What stings?" Steve asked, appearing behind Adam. "Whoa! What happened to you?"
“That’s what I’d like to know!” Adam exclaimed.
“Judy and I needed to talk so we walked around back.”
“And tangled with a homicidal, weed-whacker wielding skeleton?” Steve asked.
“Talk about what?” Adam asked at the same time.
I decided to skirt the ghost issue for the moment. “I found a cemetery with Captain Marnien and Amalie’s graves.”
“You found Amalie’s grave?” Steve asked, my scratches momentarily forgotten, at least by him.
“Yeah, in a briar patch in the woods, where the underbrush hasn’t been cleared. I saw something back there, and when I went to see what it was, I found this." I showed them the pictures on my phone.
Steve was still reeling from the news. “I can’t believe Victoria didn’t mention this when she was showing the house.”
“Maybe she forgot,” I suggested.
“It’s more likely she didn’t know about it,” Adam observed. “We’ll worry about that later. Right now, let’s put something on all those scratches. You look like you were pulled backwards through a hedge. I think I have a first aid kit in the trunk of my car."
After fetching his first aid kit, Adam proceeded to basically sterilize every exposed inch of my entire body with disinfectant wipes. The scratches weren’t as bad as they looked after he washed all the dirt and blood away. That’s not to say they didn’t sting like crazy just the same.
Once that was done, it was time to get to work unloading even more furniture and arranging things in the newly painted rooms on the second floor.
My boyfriend Micah joined us around noon. He texted me when he arrived, and I met him on the front porch.
As soon as he saw me, his jaw dropped. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Early morning exploration."
"Of what? A cave full of angry cats?"
"A cemetery I found in the backyard."
"Oh really? I want to see."
"Later maybe. Need to finish up the house first. I'm so tired of moving furniture."
"I heard that," Steve yelled from inside.
"It's hardly a secret," I yelled back.
We were just wrapping up for the day when Judy asked us all to gather in the foyer. "I'd like to spend the night here tonight, if that's okay."
We all looked at her in confusion.
"We're not open yet, you know?" Steve joked.
"I know. But after what happened yesterday, I'd like to spend the night, see if I can get any more information."
"What happened yesterday?" Adam asked with a frown. "More information about what?"
Judy turned to me with an arched eyebrow. "You didn't tell them?"
I tried to will myself out of sight, but, of course, I couldn’t have a practical superpower. Seeing dead people? Check. Terrifying nightmares that occasionally came true? Also check. Turning invisible on command? Not a chance.
"Tell us what?" Kane asked.
Even Micah was watching me expectantly.
I'd have to thank Judy later for blowing my cover. With gritted teeth, I admitted, "I...may have seen Amalie yesterday."
"As in the woman who lived here when the house was built?" Micah clarified. "The dead woman?"
"You actually saw her?" Steve breathed reverently.
Adam looked skeptical. "You're saying you saw a ghost?"
I nodded.
Kane's eyes were wide. He looked thoroughly horrified. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"I dunno." I shrugged. "I was embarrassed. I felt like I was losing my mind, seeing things."
"How do you know you weren't just seeing things?" Adam asked.
"See. Now you think I'm crazy. This is why I didn't tell you."
"I don't think you're crazy. I just—"
Judy interrupted. "For the record, I believe Killian saw exactly what he said. That doesn't mean he's crazy. It means he has gifts."
"Gifts?" Steve and Kane asked in unison.
I sighed. I was getting tired of hearing about this. I didn't want anything to do with my so-called gifts. Besides, I still wasn't entirely certain that I wasn't simply sliding down the slippery slope to insanity.
Judy launched into her spiel about how psychic abilities were like talents and how she thought I had a gift for interacting with the dead. When she finished, Steve blinked owlishly, as if he wasn't quite sure he understood everything. Adam looked skeptical, Micah looked interested, and Kane looked more frightened than ever. I never would have pegged him as someone who would be so easily spooked.
"Why are we just standing around casually if this place is haunted?" Kane demanded.
"I don't think we have anything to be afraid of, Kane," Steve said. "From what I've been able to gather, Amalie has never been violent or dangerous."
"Yet..." Kane said ominously.
"I hate to sound like a Doubting Thomas," Adam interjected, "but I have to admit I'm finding all of this a little hard to swallow. Aren't we a bit old to believe in ghosts?"
Judy arched an eyebrow. "Oh, they're real, but they aren't like the ones you see in horror movies. Often they're simply the spirits of people who died violently or suddenly, with something important left unfinished."
"Unfinished business," Kane said.
Judy flashed him a smile. "Yes, unfinished business."
"Will they go away if their business is finished?" Micah asked.
"Sometimes, but not always. I'm not sure why they don't. Maybe they're trapped in this plane, unable to cross over because of some decision they've made. Or maybe they simply prefer to stay here."
"I hope she leaves if we figure out what she wants," Kane said emphatically.
"Why?" Steve objected. "Is she actually harming anyone?"
"A ghost could be bad for business," Adam pointed out pragmatically. "Not that I necessarily buy any of this." He turned to Judy. "And you want to spend the night here because...?"
"I just want to sleep here," Judy explained. "Sometimes I pick up things in my sleep that I miss when I'm awake. Or perhaps it's just my subconscious pointing out things I overlooked the first time. Either way, I find it helpful."
Steve nodded. "I guess it can't hurt anything, but the beds aren't made up yet."
"No worries. We can rough it."
"We? Sorry, but I need to go home," Adam said. "I have a project due in the morning that needs a few finishing touches."
"I have, uh, homework," Kane added quickly.
"It's summer, school's out," I pointed out, and received a nasty look for my effort.
"It's not necessary for everyone to stay," Judy said. "Except for Killian."
"Me?"
"Yes. You've mentioned before that your gifts extend to dreams, and, for reasons as yet unclear, Amalie seems partial to you. You may pick up things I don't, or she may show you things she won't show me."
I frowned. After seeing Amalie, spending the night in this place was the last thing I wanted to do, but before I could argue, Micah asked, "Would it be alright if I stayed too?"
"I don't see why not," Judy replied.
"I'll stay, too," Steve announced.
This was quickly spiralling out of control.
"It's a supernatural slumber party," Kane said with a snort. "You can do each other's hair." He'd cheered up considerably as soon as he'd learned he didn't have to stay the night.
"Maybe I'll just leave you here," Adam said warningly.
That shut him up.
"Well, I'm all dirty and sweaty from working all day, so can we at least go home and shower and change before setting up Camp Wannaleave?" I asked.
"Of course."
"Why don't we meet back here at eight?" Steve suggested. "That way we'll have time to get dinner too."
Micah turned to me. "Why don't I pick you up after I shower and grab my sleeping bag? We can get dinner together."
I nodded. If I had to spend the night, at least Micah would be there too.
I took a quick, stinging shower after we got home, then threw a few things in a backpack, grabbed my sleeping bag and went downstairs to wait for Micah. When he rang the doorbell, Kane somehow managed to get there before I did.
"Micah's here," he yelled unnecessarily, considering I was standing three feet away. "Hope you guys are ready to star in your very own horror movie."
I glared at him. "Why are you so irritating?"
He batted his eyelashes. "I annoy because I care."
"I'm sure everything will be fine," Micah inserted, looking amused at our antics.
"Are you?" Kane asked ominously. "You have all night for your souls to be sucked from your bodies."
"Ghosts don't suck your soul out," I snapped. "That's demons."
"Bite me."
"That's vampires, and if you don't shut up, you'll be a ghost soon." I almost added 'just like your brother,' but caught myself just in time. Kane didn't know about Seth's appearances, and I thought it was best to keep it that way.
"Okay, you two," Micah jumped in with a grin. "You guys fight like brothers."
Kane and I simultaneously turned mock glares on him. "Are you ready for dinner?" he asked me.
"Yeah, although I don't have much appetite."
"We'll go get your favorite pizza," Micah offered. "Maybe that'll help."
"Hey, it's my favorite too," Kane complained.
"Well, you can always still come along..." I teased, already knowing the answer.
Kane grimaced. "No thanks. Not even pizza is worth spending the night in that house waiting for the icy hand of Death to grab me by the shoulder."
"Icy hand of Death?" Micah gave me a disbelieving look. "Is he always this melodramatic?"
I laughed. "Yeah, and he's the straight one." I pushed Micah out the door. "Let's go before Kane drives me insane."
"Too late," Kane yelled as I shut the door in his face.
As promised, we stopped at my favorite pizza place, and I was surprised that my appetite returned once I saw that melted cheesy goodness, despite my nerves.
After dinner, we drove out to Amalie's House only to discover that we'd somehow beat everyone back.
"How about you show me that graveyard while we wait?" Micah suggested.
I shrugged. "Sure."
It didn’t take long to show it to him. I wasn’t up to climbing through the briars again, and, with the evidence of my last visit still quite obvious on my skin, neither was Micah.
“Is that the statue?” he asked, peering into the gloom caused by the rapidly darkening sky and thick grove of trees.
“Yeah, it’s an angel,” I answered distractedly. The wind had picked up as we walked across the yard. I stared warily at the foreboding black clouds gathering on the horizon. “Is it supposed to storm tonight?”
Micah followed my gaze, then pulled out his phone. “My weather app says yes, and, judging by that sky, I’d say it's right for a change.”
“Great, the perfect setting for contacting the dead in a haunted house,” I grumbled. “Judy couldn’t have ordered better weather.”
“It’s just a summer storm.” Micah took my hand and tugged me towards the house. “It’s not an omen or anything. It’ll be over in no time, probably before Steve and Judy even get here.”
I glanced once more over my shoulder and fervently hoped he was right.
We hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when a drop of water landed on my shoulder. I looked up at the heavy sky and another drop hit me on the cheek. "Here it comes," I said. "Let's go!"
I tugged Micah's hand and we picked up our pace, but we were only halfway across the yard when the sky opened up and the rain fell in torrents. Laughing, we dashed to the front porch, where I noticed Steve's car in the drive and lights on inside.
Lightning arced jaggedly across the sky and a deafening crash of thunder followed almost simultaneously. I threw myself through the door with a yelp.
Steve was in the foyer as I exploded inside. He jumped as the door flew open, clutching his chest. "Are you trying to kill me?" he exclaimed.
I tried to compose myself as Micah joined us, closing the door behind himself. "I don't think it's me you have to worry about."
"Very funny. Where were you guys? I saw your car when I pulled up, but you were nowhere to be found."
"Micah wanted to see the graveyard."
"I did, too." Steve sounded disappointed. "Any sign of Judy?"
"Not yet, but that's a pretty serious storm that just blew in," I reported. "I hope she makes it before it gets much worse."
Just then, another bright flash of lightning lit up the windows and a huge crash of thunder shook the whole house.
"It was a dark and stormy night..." Micah muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, the door burst open again, and everyone jumped. We relaxed when Judy rushed in, pushing the door closed behind her. Her hair was damp and her dark shirt was speckled with water droplets.
"Hello, everyone. It's raining," she announced unnecessarily.
"Thanks for the weather report, Captain Obvious," I commented dryly.
She chuckled. "It appeared out of nowhere. The wind is really gusting. Should be an interesting night." She rubbed her hands together eagerly.
"So what's the plan?" Steve asked.
Judy took a deep breath. "Okay... For purposes of full disclosure, I've never really done anything like this, which means we're going to be feeling our way along."
Another loud crack of thunder made us all jump. There was an almost constant rumbling at this point, and the storm only seemed to be intensifying.
"That's not very reassuring," I said.
"Just because this is all new to me doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it a lot. I do have a plan. First, we need to figure out if there's any common thread connecting all of the manifestations."
We all thought for a few moments, but no one volunteered anything. The only sound in the room was the thunder and rain pounding against the windows.
"I can't think of anything," Steve said finally. "Although I've been here every time something happened, I've never seen or heard her myself."
"That's something, though. If you've been here every time..."
"But I've also been here lots of times when nothing has happened."
I hated to draw the attention back to myself, but I knew I had to speak up. "Something has happened every time I've been here."
"Aside from seeing her yesterday, what else has happened?" Steve asked.
"Remember the door slamming the first time we were here? And then the second time, for the walkthrough, I heard footsteps in the hallway but nobody was here. Then earlier yesterday, I thought I heard a baby crying. And that was all before I ran into Amalie."
"Okay, we may be getting somewhere," Judy said.
"What do you mean?"
"You might be some sort of catalyst, Killian," she explained. "Certain people seem to draw supernatural activity. No one knows why. It's usually a young child right around the age of puberty, but a few people seem to attract it throughout their lives. And then there are sensitives."
"Sensitives?" Steve asked.
"A sensitive is someone who is receptive to other planes of existence. Some people call them mediums or psychics. It used to be known as the sixth sense."
"Are you a sensitive?" Micah asked Judy.
She nodded. "To a small degree, but more importantly, it seems Killian has a much stronger gift."
"If Killian's presence is what's causing Amalie to act up, then why did things happen before we ever came to the house?" Steve asked. "According to Victoria, reports of strange goings on have been around almost as long as the house itself."
"The more I think about it, the more I think that it isn't so much that Killian is causing her to act up. I believe she's trying to get our attention for some reason. Maybe she can sense that Killian is a sensitive so she's stepping up her efforts when he's here, but it sounds like she's been attempting to make some sort of contact for a long time."
Just then, a sharp flash of lightning lit up the room, followed almost instantaneously by an ear-shattering crack of thunder. The whole house seemed to shudder as the power flickered.
"Do you have a flashlight in case the lights go out?" Judy asked Steve.
"Oh great, just what we need," I grumbled. "Being in a haunted house during a storm just isn't complete without the electricity going out. I swear I've seen this movie."
"I don't think I have a flashlight here," Steve said, sounding a little nervous.
"We all have flashlights on our phones," Micah pointed out calmly.
"Of course," Judy said with a laugh. "Does it make me old that I always forget that?"
"We're definitely not old," Steve said with a frown.
"Okay, fogeys," I interrupted. "Judy, you said you had a plan?"
"Yes. Well, sort of. Doesn't Amalie have a fixation on the cupola? That's where you saw her, right?"
"She was at the foot of the stairs leading up to the cupola."
"Perhaps she has some connection there. I think we should check it out, see if we sense anything now that we're intentionally looking."
My eyes grew wide at the idea of climbing up to the cupola again — in the middle of a storm, no less — but I took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, but we should all go."
"Why?" Judy asked.
"We shouldn't split up. None of that stupid horror movie, 'pick 'em off one at a time' stuff."
Judy laughed. "I don't think that's necessary. She's not hostile."
"You weren't there. She felt sad at first, but then, it was like she was...angry at me."
"Angry? At you?" Judy asked.
"Or angry at something, anyway."
"You didn't mention that before," Steve said.
I shrugged.
"Either way, I'd rather Killian and I went alone," Judy said firmly. "I want to recreate the setting when he saw her as closely as possible."
Steve looked disappointed, and I could tell Micah was dying to accompany us, but he leaned back against the wall without a word. His eyes followed us as we left the room.
I switched lights on as we went, although not every fixture had a bulb in it yet.
Almost as soon as we were out of the room, Judy started talking to me in a low voice. "Killian, I know you're still unsure, but I have no doubt that you are a sensitive. Now we just need to figure out how strong your gift is. Your impressions and feelings could be invaluable to figuring out the reason behind this haunting."
"But I don't have any impressions, and my only feeling right now is carefully controlled terror."
She laughed. "I know this must be somewhat scary, considering it's all new to you. Describe to me what happened the time you heard the footsteps and the time you actually saw Amalie."
I quickly told her both stories, which didn't take long since there wasn't that much to tell. When I finished, she asked, "What were your impressions when you were in the hallway, or in the cupola?"
I thought back. "The time in the hallway, I felt...it was almost as though a presence was there with me, but I couldn't see anyone — or anything. I felt nothing in the cupola. Well, I got kind of dizzy on the stairs going up, but that was all. Actually, come to think of it, that happened the other time I was on those stairs, too."
"Very interesting. Maybe you felt something in the staircase, some latent emotions."
By then we'd reached the hallway on the third floor. I flipped the switch and a single light bulb lit the corridor. It was enough to see that the cupola door was closed. We walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door. I felt a chill as Judy reached out and lifted the latch before turning the knob. The door swung open with an eerie creak, the perfect sound effect for a B-movie scene.
She stepped back. "Light?"
It suddenly seemed as if we had run out of words, or maybe we were too preoccupied with our own thoughts to waste energy, or perhaps Judy felt the same sense of tension and foreboding that I did.
I reached around her, keeping her in front of me, and threw the switch. Nothing happened. I flicked it up and down a few times, but it was obvious the bulb had burnt out. The dim light from the hall hardly reached past the first couple of steps. Beyond that, there was just an inky gloom punctuated by the flashes of lightning.
Judy turned her phone flashlight on. "Good thing Micah reminded me this existed."
Her phone cast a weak path up the worn wooden steps. I wasn't at all eager to go up there, but I was even less keen on staying in the hallway by myself. When Judy started mounting the stairs, I turned my own phone light on and followed close behind her. About halfway up, she stopped abruptly with a sharp intake of breath.
"What is it?" I whispered hoarsely.
Instead of answering, she rushed up the last few stairs with me close on her heels. Once in the cupola, she turned and stared back down the stairs.
Flickering, blue-white light lit the room as one streak of lightning followed after another with almost no pause in between. The roll of thunder was almost deafening up there, like a passing freight train. The window panes rattled from the wind, rain, and thunder. If I hadn't been so terrified, the sheer majesty of Nature's fury would have been awe inspiring. It was as if we were in the very heart of the storm.
Judy spoke, her voice jerking my attention back. "Something happened on these stairs."
My throat was tight with fear, but I managed to croak, "What?"
"I'm not sure. I felt a wave of pain, physical pain, and I sensed...death."
I had to gulp several times before I could speak again. "Amalie?"
"No, I don't think so. It felt...different. I felt mourning, too. And..."
"And what?"
"I don't know. Whatever it is, it's a part of the steps now, like a psychic stain."
We were both quiet for a minute. "Why would she come to this room?" she asked, almost to herself.
"She came to watch for her husband," I answered. "The realtor said that in those days, you could see quite a ways up the river from here. He was a sea captain. She would come up here to wait for him. When he didn't come back when she expected him, she thought he had died at sea." I was babbling and I knew it. I'd told her this story before, but it was preferable to the silence. "Maybe that's why she keeps coming back. She's still waiting for her husband. And that's why she's mourning. Maybe she even committed suicide by throwing herself down the stairs."
"Utter bullshit." Judy waved away my suggestion. "That kind of melodramatic romantic crap only happens in old Victorian gothic novels. No real woman strong enough to run a house like this by herself would pine away waiting for a husband she barely knew to come back."
"Barely knew?"
"He was much older than she was, right?"
"Yeah..."
"And he was away at sea for months at a time, probably for much of the year. No doubt she did keep watch for him, if for no other reason than to be ready for him when he arrived, welcoming him the way a good wife was expected to, but I seriously doubt that she was so in love with him that she killed herself when he failed to appear on schedule.
Besides, your story never mentioned her dying tragically, and, trust me, the newspapers of the time would have mentioned it if she had. My guess is that she died of some illness. There is the taint of death on these stairs, though. What is it that draws her here?"
I was about to suggest we go back downstairs and discuss things with everyone else when lightning hit somewhere close to the house. The accompanying sound was like an explosion that left my ears ringing. The flash itself temporarily blinded me. When I blinked away the spots, I realized that the hall light was out now, too. Until it was gone, I hadn't realized how the dull glow had been a sort of safety blanket. The only illumination left came from our flashlights and the ever present lightning.
"That was close by," Judy commented. She was trying for a casual tone, but her voice was a little shaky. "Maybe we'd better go check on the others."
"Sounds good to me," I agreed weakly. "I doubt this is the safest place to be right now."
She started down the stairs with me right behind. Again she stopped abruptly about halfway. I reached out to steady her, but she didn't seem to need it. Her body had gone rigid. I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I couldn't see anything, but I somehow knew we were no longer alone.
Judy sat down with a heavy thud, revealing Amalie standing in the exact same place where I'd last seen her. Our eyes locked, and, despite having seen her once before, I found I was far from prepared to come face to face with her again. Even in the flickering lightning, I had no trouble making her out.
I was struck by how different she looked from the ghosts you see on TV or in movies. She wasn’t some wispy apparition or pale, transparent figure — and yet there was something insubstantial about her, something that let me know she didn't belong in this world.
She was wearing the same dark mourning dress and the same intense expression. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes — she wanted something.
A wave of anguish crashed over me, so powerful and raw that I knew it wasn’t mine — it was hers. Whatever had happened to her, the heartbreak and fury still clung to her, undiminished by the passage of time. The intensity of her emotions settled heavy in my chest, squeezing my heart with its weight.
The apparition turned away abruptly, shattering the spell. My knees buckled and I sat down heavily on the steps behind Judy.
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