Ghost House

by Alexandra Adornetto

  The two brothers stand facing one another until an earsplitting shriek from the nursery shatters the silence. Alex seems to fold at the waist like all the stuffing has been knocked out of him. When he looks up again, his eyes are bright with unshed tears. All he cares about in the world has been lost.

  Without warning, the vision steers me back to the nursery, where Isobel is on her knees clasping a bundle of blankets to her chest and rocking back and forth in silent lamentation.

  When the gunshot sounds downstairs, her mouth opens in a silent agonized scream. She doesn’t need to see his body to know that Alex, too, is dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Released from the vision, I fell to my knees on the footbridge, panting for air. Isobel still hovered on the other side of the river. The backdrop didn’t look real, like a charcoal sketch that could disintegrate at any moment. I realized the Hunt sisters were right—I was looking directly into another dimension, into the spirit realm. Like the legendary River Styx, the lake separated the world of the living from the world of the dead. Isobel’s voice called out to me, as silky as a siren’s.

  “Come with me, Chloe,” she said. “It’s so peaceful here.”

  My mind was cloudy and my vision seemed to tunnel, blocking out Mavis and May as they called my name. On Isobel’s side of the river, the clouds rolled away and a resplendent light broke through, bathing everything in a dreamy bronze sheen. Isobel was no longer a chilling phantom; she was beautiful, even serene in her glittering golden world. I couldn’t stop the idea from sprouting in my mind like a weed. Maybe there was a place where all self-doubt and suffering could end. Maybe I was being offered an escape from the desolation and hardship that life brought with it. Isobel was showing me the way. All I had to do was follow her. I felt my feet start to move, inching closer.

  “You can rest here, Chloe,” her fluty voice affirmed. “Nothing will ever trouble you again. You can be with the one you love. She’s waiting for you.”

  Behind me, the bridge was beginning to fall apart, crumbling like powder and pushing me forward into the brilliant light. I could hear the voices of the Hunt sisters somewhere, but I didn’t know what they were saying and I wasn’t really listening. I was ready to follow Isobel into the blissful white. I stretched out my hand, and just as our fingers were about to lock—

  “Wait!” a voice cried out, and Alex’s figure appeared on the riverbank. He was side by side with his former love, and yet there was so much distance between them. His luminous blue eyes were full of dread, but through my trance, I couldn’t work out why. “Chloe, don’t take her hand!”

  “Alex!” I was so overjoyed to see him all I could think about was joining him. “I’m coming with you! I’m choosing peace.”

  “You’re choosing death,” he replied. “This is an illusion. With every step, your life ebbs away, and soon you will be trapped in the shadows with us forever.”

  “But I want an eternity with you,” I said and watched an expression of triumph spread across Isobel’s face.

  “Of course you do,” she crooned. “There is no heartache or loneliness in our world.”

  “There is only heartache and loneliness!” Alex cried. “Don’t listen to her, Chloe! If you cross over, you won’t be able to get back! You’ll be trapped there forever! She wants you dead, Chloe! She wants to see you throw your life away.”

  He moved forward like a flash and succeeded in snapping the connection between our fingertips. I reeled back, feeling as if someone had thumped me in the chest. At the same time Isobel let out an incensed screech.

  “Go back!” Alex yelled, but I couldn’t. It was happening again. The world was shifting before my eyes as I was caught in the throes of another vision. The transition happened so fast this time, it made my head reel. But the setting didn’t change; it was the same place…only different.

  * * *

  It’s dawn and the sun fights weakly to break through the canopy of dense cloud. The river seems younger, fresher somehow, and I realize it’s because the weeds haven’t started to emerge and the dock isn’t yet wasting away. Isobel wanders along the riverbank, unaware that her hem trails inches deep in mud. She walks aimlessly, clutching a bundle to her chest. It’s the body of her infant son. She doesn’t seem distraught anymore, just dazed and distant. There are leaves caught in her hair and scratches along her arms as though she has rushed here full pelt through the woods, crashing into the scrub along her way. Her face is smudged and tearstained as she looks vacantly around for someone to help her. But there is no one left. Alex is already dead, slumped on the library floor, and although I can’t see it, I know Carter is swinging from a tree on the end of a noose. The servants have fled in alarm and the house is empty. Isobel has nothing to live for anymore and no one to turn to. She is completely alone.

  There’s desperation in her movements as she slumps, defeated, on a slope and gingerly places the little lifeless body beside her. She’s still rocking rhythmically back and forth as if to soothe the pain. Then she does something unexpected. On her hands and knees, she begins scrabbling in the dirt, grabbing handfuls of stones. She stuffs them into every pocket of her elaborate dress, into her soft leather riding boots, her bodice and her hooped petticoat, weighing herself down. Then, cradling her dead child in her arms, she moves like a sleepwalker toward the water. She’s humming a lullaby, a tune I recognize, as it used to trail after me in the corridors of Grange Hall.

  “Lullaby and good-night, thy mother’s delight

  Bright angels beside my darling abide.”

  Isobel stops singing and bends to kiss her baby’s stone-cold cheek. She’s hit by a fresh wash of distress and shakes her head vehemently, muttering under her breath. She looks down into the swathe of fabric and then shakes it fiercely. But there is no response, no cry of life. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to will the truth away, but when she looks again, nothing has changed. Her body convulses with tearless sobs. The sound she makes is so alarming I want to cover my ears. She doesn’t sound human anymore; she sounds like a wild animal. Even though Isobel Reade has done her utmost to torment me since my arrival, it’s impossible for me to hate her in this pitiful state.

  Suddenly she is silent as she looks out at the glassy water. For the first time, the unbearable anguish in her eyes fades, replaced by a strange kind of acceptance.

  The reeds rustle as she pushes through them to the water’s edge. It must be cold, but she doesn’t even shiver. It’s as if all her senses have shut down. This can’t be happening. I watch dumbstruck as she wades into the black lake up to her waist and doesn’t stop. The stones and the heavy fabric of her dress drag her down to her watery grave. With her child still clutched in her arms, Isobel sinks below the water. I expect a struggle, but only a few bubbles appear on the surface of the lake, and she’s gone.

  I turn away as the baby’s blue blanket drifts to the surface and floats away, carried by the gentle ripples of the water.

  * * *

  As the vision faded, the past and the present seemed to merge. Now Isobel’s ghost was standing right in front of me. Any sympathy I felt for her was snuffed out by the ferocious look in her eyes. I had no time to escape or even back away as the ghost rushed forward, her face contorted in a vitriolic mask. There was nothing I could do to stop what happened next.

  Her spirit invaded my body like a million tiny electrical currents. The alien presence made me feel like I was literally being split in two. I wanted to scratch and tear at myself, but I knew I couldn’t get her out. Already I could feel the ghost sapping my energy, siphoning away my life force. Sharing a body with the dead was enervating, and I was losing the battle fast. Alex watched on, horror scrawled over his face. His body was braced as if he wanted to run forward, but there was no point now. Isobel was beyond his reach. How could he stop her without hurting me? For minutes the internal tug-of-war continued
, and I was certain I would never come out of this alive.

  “Let her be!” his tortured cry rang out. “Isobel, stop!”

  “You always knew this was how it would end.” The voice of Isobel spoke through me. It was alarming to feel my mouth move and know that I wasn’t controlling it.

  “Haven’t we seen enough death?” Alex implored. “Do not force an innocent girl into the same fate. Even you are not that cruel. This is your chance for redemption. Take it!”

  “She’s not innocent,” Isobel hissed. “She will destroy us both.”

  I felt myself struggle to the surface for a brief moment. “Alex!” I managed to croak out before Isobel beat me down and resumed control once again.

  I screamed as I felt my internal organs shift, but the scream quickly morphed into a maniacal laugh. Isobel forced my body to the ground, pressing my face into the mud. My arms and legs thrashed as I struggled with myself. I couldn’t tell anymore which movements were my own and which belonged to her. I could feel myself edging closer to the shadow world. There was a strong swallowing sensation, like I was headed toward a whirlpool, but I couldn’t command my legs to stop moving. I tried to send messages to my brain, but the interference blocked them. The shadow world whispered to me, voices from the beyond calling out. Some were crying, some moaning. The light had waned now, and I was looking into a skeletal land that looked as if it were made from nothing but dust and bones. I was right on the fringe, on the verge of taking the final step. A host of spirit beings appeared, hovering above the ground, their faces wasted and reedy arms extended in welcome. Something was happening. I could feel my spirit starting to detach, leaving my body behind, an empty vessel.

  An indistinct figure appeared in my path, glowing with a soft light. The outline of a woman emerged, her face rubbed out like on a news show when they try to protect the identity of a witness. I could see that she was wearing flowing clothes, and her dark curly hair hung lose around her shoulders. I recognized that hair. I saw it every day on my little brother.

  “Mom?” I whispered.

  The vision grew clearer, her face coming into focus until there she was, standing right in front of me like it was just another ordinary day. She was wearing her favorite blue sweater, and it was the only speck of color in the gray wasteland behind her. I was gripped with a sudden fear. I didn’t want the vision to end. I couldn’t lose my mother a second time.

  “Surrender.” Isobel’s taunt rang in my ears. “And you shall never be separated from her again.”

  I stood and took a decisive step forward, longing to run into my mother’s arms.

  “Chloe, wait.” She held up her hands and smiled at me like I was a child again. “This isn’t what I want for you.”

  “Mom…” I heard my voice crack. “I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave?”

  “My time was up,” she said. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I never wanted to go.”

  “Then let me come with you.”

  “No, my darling.” She shook her head. “Your life is just beginning.”

  I hugged myself, trying to keep from falling apart. “It’s too hard without you,” I whispered. “I can’t do it.”

  “You’ve always been strong,” she replied. “Even when you were just a little girl. You told those ghosts to leave, and they did. You can do it again.”

  I could feel her presence now, like a protective shield around me, an unexpected ally. But my mom was not a spirit in torment. She didn’t belong here. She had already passed on to the next life, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay for long. I might never get another opportunity to see or speak to her again. Right now she was so close, within reach. But it couldn’t last.

  “Don’t you want me with you?” The hot tears I’d been holding back sprang forth now to course down my cheeks.

  “I want you to live, Chloe,” she said. “Remember all your dreams? I want to see them realized, every last one. One day we’ll be together again. But not today.”

  “When, Mom?” I whispered. I was so reluctant to let her go; I wanted to grab her and hang on for dear life.

  “When it’s time,” she answered. “You’re going to do great things with your life. I’ve always known you would. And I’ll be watching. Just remember who you are and make me proud, okay?” She was already starting to fade.

  “Okay,” I said, then added as a desperate afterthought, “I love you! I don’t think I said that enough.”

  “I know you do.” She smiled. “I love you, too, my darling girl. I’m always with you.”

  “Wait! How will I know if I’m making the right decisions?”

  Mom smiled as if she had total confidence in me. It was the same smile that had gotten me through countless challenges in life so far. I felt bolstered by it.

  “You’ll know because they’ll be yours.”

  Then, just like that, she was gone. But the power of her presence remained behind like a healing aura. I felt my strength return and slowly swell inside me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and took control of my body. Every inch of it belonged to me and me alone. I was going to live, because that was what my mom would have wanted. This wasn’t just about me anymore. I needed to live for my father, for my little brother and for Grandma Fee. I was choosing life and closing the door on the world of the dead, locking them back where they belonged. I wouldn’t let my mother down. With a sound like splitting wood, Isobel was evicted from my body. The ghost flew out and landed on the riverbank. She looked up at me, this time with genuine bafflement in her eyes.

  “It’s not possible,” she gasped.

  “You have to go,” I told her brazenly. “You can’t stay here.”

  She snarled at me, but I stood my ground. I remembered my mother taking my hand when I was six years old and imparting these words: They only exist if you allow them to exist, Chloe. I knew what I had to do then. I had to lock Isobel out of my head and at the same time lock her out of this world.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I said. I could feel my mind starting to close already, pushing against her, forcing her out. She could only hold on as long as I did. If I didn’t believe in her, she had nothing to cling to. My whole body contracted with the effort, but it was working. I was literally willing her into nonexistence.

  I realized something then. Mom had been right all along. I saw ghosts only because my mind was open to them, always wondering when the next one might appear. But a closed mind is like a closed door. They cannot get in.

  “You don’t really exist,” I told her. “You’re dead.”

  Dead. The word seemed to echo, bouncing off the trees and hitting Isobel in the chest. She let out a harrowing wail and the shadow world began to shrink around her. I could see an expression of pure relief flood Alex’s face. I didn’t want to let him go, but there was no way around it. It seemed as if a portal was opening before me like a vortex and the memories of the past were being sucked back into it. I saw Carter, noose in hand. I saw the infant James swaddled in his blanket. I saw Alex’s sketchbook and Becky the maid and Benjamin in his boat as they all flew past me and vanished into the twister of gray light. Then it was Isobel’s turn. She stretched her arms up to the sky and opened her mouth in a pitiful howl as she was engulfed and torn away from the house she had haunted for more than one hundred and fifty years.

  “No!” Her scream reverberated through the woods long after she was gone.

  There was only one person left.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered as Alex in turn began to blur at the edges. He was still the most devastatingly beautiful vision I’d ever seen. I longed to run to him, but his form was transparent now, glowing and intangible. He had been so real to me; now I felt like I was watching him die. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but there was something I needed to say.

  “You’ll never know how much you meant to me.�
�

  His eyes didn’t leave mine as he raised one hand in a final farewell. Then he, too, surrendered to the light. It swallowed him up…and Alexander Reade was gone. The churning vortex disappeared with a crack and I was left staring at an ordinary lake.

  I turned back to the world of the living, where the Hunt sisters were waiting for me. But my legs didn’t seem to be working properly. All my energy had been leached from the internal battle. The last thing I saw was May’s beaming face and the sisters running to catch me before I hit the ground.

  There was only one thought left in my head. It’s over now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The next few days passed in a blur as I tried to piece together what had actually happened at the lake. When I woke in my bed, with Grandma Fee and members of the household standing over me, I had no recollection of the events that had transpired. But it started to come back to me in disjointed flashes, like a dream. One thing was certain: Grange Hall was a different place now. The presence of the ghosts could no longer be felt in its walls and arbors. Even the sisters confirmed their EMF reader was now picking up zero activity. Alex and Isobel were gone.

  The one image that kept coming back to me was Alex’s brilliant eyes as he was wrenched away into the afterlife. We hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye.

  Alex was now a part of my past. I would think of him incessantly over the next few months, but then it would inevitably begin to taper off. Eventually he would be nothing but a distant memory recalled fondly from time to time. I had no physical record of our time together, and there weren’t any photographs or mementos to keep his memory alive. I wondered whether there would come a time when I’d try to conjure his face in my mind but it would be blurry.

  Christmas had crept up on us and was now only days away. It was going to be a low-key family affair, just the way we wanted it. I didn’t feel like we had much to celebrate. Even the expulsion of the ghosts wasn’t the victory it should have been. If truth were told—and I hated to admit this—the house felt kind of empty without them. The Hunt sisters had spent the past few days parading around, proud as peacocks because the Baton Rouge Paranormal Society was going to publish their paper entitled “The Haunted Homes of Rural En­gland.” They seemed to think it would kick-start their careers as professional ghost busters, and I pretended to be happy for them. They were leaving soon, to spend the remainder of the holidays with their families.