“An SLS Maverick 1300, a Prime digital recorder and, just for fun, an old-fashioned REM pod.”
“Okay.” Jericho shrugged and disappeared down the hall.
I turned my attention to Carmen. He finished scribbling on the paper and slid it my way.
“Tell me about you, Carmen. What brings you here today? I know you’re a pro. You’re legit, that’s for sure, but why Gulf Coast Paranormal?”
“Nothing as powerful and mysterious as what that guy has got going on. Are you going to make me play fetch, too? Come on. That’s lightweight stuff. Tell me you’re just funning that kid.” He tugged on his crisp baseball cap, but I didn’t join in the backslapping. I wasn’t trying to insult Jericho by asking him to dig through the supply closet. It was an honest test.
“I didn’t send him to look for a sky hook, Carmen.” I accepted his application and skimmed it over, pretending that I cared. On paper, he seemed a great fit, but I didn’t like his attitude. Sierra would encourage me to give him a chance, no doubt. Maybe I should. Maybe.
“Hey, I’m just as committed as you are—and as committed as the rookie you’ve got rummaging around the storage closet. I don’t have abilities, and I’m not religious. Frankly, there is nothing special about me except for the fact that I won’t run from a fight. I may not be the most well-spoken individual, but I’m trustworthy and I’ll be there when you need me.”
I met his gaze evenly. “We aren’t necessarily looking for someone with gifts, Carmen. Just the fact that you can run some serious equipment will be helpful—I can see by the notes my wife left me that you are very proficient in that area. As a general rundown, it appears you have used a lot of what we use here. In fact, probably more than what we use. So, you used to work with Mississippi Paranormal Group. What happened with that gig? I haven’t heard much from those guys recently. Brad and Peach used to lead MPG, right?”
“Like most groups, there can be lulls in activity. You know how it is. Brad and Peach broke up. A few months went by, and I got an email from Peach saying she was closing shop. They tried a change of hands, bringing in new people, but they could never get back their mojo.”
He kept his mouth shut after that, which was odd. I felt like Carmen was the kind of guy who liked to talk. Before I could ask more questions, Jericho was back with two of the three items I asked for.
“I Googled it. There is no SLS 1300. This resembles one that I’ve used before, but here are the other two things you wanted. Really, Joshua?” He put the equipment on the table carefully and stood his ground with an annoyed expression.
“Well, my wife left me to decide, but I’d rather hold off on making rash decisions. It’s clear that you two have chops. Tonight is your lucky night. Be back here at nine o’clock and be ready to work until about two in the morning. You’re responsible for your own meals, but you will get to take breaks every couple of hours. We aren’t hard-asses here. You guys game?”
Carmen and Jericho grinned and shook hands with one another. And then with me again. They both thanked me as we walked out of the office and I locked the door behind us. I felt good about both of them in different ways. Jericho tugged at my heartstrings. And on the other hand, Carmen seemed confident, and his knowledge of equipment would certainly be a big help to me personally.
Macie could rig, but like Sierra, she was a tiny little thing. I needed some help carrying some of the heavy gear. It wasn’t so bad when you were rolling things into a building, but lugging heavy equipment up three flights of stairs was no joke.
I got into the vehicle and checked my phone and turned the ringer back on. Three hours and counting until the investigation at Wayland Manor began. Judging from the half-dozen texts I got from my mom, I wouldn’t be taking a nap or just chilling until then.
I turned toward home, but I had one stop to make first. Dad and I were going to have to talk, one on one. Man to man. He wasn’t going to like it, he wouldn’t appreciate it, but he had this coming.
This had been coming for a long time.
Chapter Five—Jai
1896
“Mā mā, qǐng bāng máng!” The little girl banged on the wall of the closet one more time. Her salty tears fell into her open mouth. “Mama, please help! Let me out!” Her naturally red lips were pale, like her skin, her eyes swollen from all the useless weeping. Jai had soiled her dress and had no choice but to sit in her own urine. Trapped for at least an hour or two, her terror multiplied. She’d only come in here to return a lost doll, but she had fallen into a trap.
She would die here. That’s what Mary Alice intended, what everyone wanted except her mama.
“Mā mā, please!”
Her pleas would do her little good. Her mother did not know she was here, and she would have no reason to believe such a thing. How could Mama know that Jai needed her?
She was supposed to play outside, behind the house, out of sight. She was supposed to wait for Mama to return, but she had been disobedient. Jai’s mother left with the others, gone to wash the laundry, the same as every week. When she came back, she would do other labor, like brush cleaning floors and ironing linens until the items were crisp. Just like the lady of the house wanted them.
Jai never meant for this to happen, to be caught inside and trapped in this closet. But once set, the trap had been a sure one. When she saw the poor thing, the porcelain doll with the missing arm and crumpled dress, Jai wanted to rescue it. Little dolls, like babies, needed love and attention. She dreamed of having a little sister to love, to care for, though she would never have that. But Mary Alice’s babies fascinated her.
How could she have guessed it was a trap?
The careless Mary Alice never took care of her dolls. She had left them outside before. Today’s event, although not unusual, was disturbing. Jai found the missing arm on the stairs. The younger girl intended to return the broken little thing to Mary Alice’s bedroom upstairs—she was light of foot and could easily sneak past the nosy housemaids. If she was careful.
The housemaids were a nasty lot, even the younger ones. They did not like her kind, they openly criticized. Even if Jai could not speak English well, she knew enough to understand that she and her mother—and the other women from her country—were not welcome here. But she did not understand why.
Their hatred saddened her because she thought the housemaids with their starched aprons were a pretty bunch. Like pretty birds they were, with their blond and brown hair and blue and green eyes. Even the housemaids curled their hair. Jai’s hair never held a curl, no matter how she tried. No matter how many rags she slept in. Mama had tried more than once.
“Filthy yellow beasts! What are they doing here?” the women would say.
But as Mama explained, it would do no good to argue or defend herself. “Bǎo chí ān jìng, Jiǎ. We will not be here long—do not make a fuss. Your uncle will come fetch us directly.”
But he never came, and Jai knew they would not leave here easily.
Yes, she thought of all their hateful words as she cowered in the closet. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep, but she felt as if she would smother, unable to breathe.
“Mama,” Jai cried, but no tears came, and she was sure she would die in this horrible hole. There was nothing magical about this house at all. When they first came to the Dark House, Jai knew they needed to leave. She could hear the unhappy voices murmuring quietly in the background. The ghosts of yesterday cried here in this unholy place.
Those first days had left her hopeless, but Jai found ways to pass the time. She and Mama and two other women slept in a wooden shack with a leaking roof, on the road near the Dark House but not too close. Jai walked to work with Mama every day. She was not allowed to go inside the house by herself, but sometimes she did anyway.
She met the pretty Mary Alice first, but it quickly became clear that the other girl had no intention of being her friend. No, the cruel girl had something much more sinister in mind for Jai—she liked torturing her, in small ways
at first, with pins, burns and later with biting bugs. If not for the dolls, Jai would run far away and never come back. She would even leave Mama behind if she had to.
Despite the agony, Mary Alice’s doll collection became Jai’s obsession. Jai loved dolls of all kinds, but she owned none. Mama wisely hoarded every penny, for one day they would leave this place. But oh, the dolls were so lovely, and their voices were the loudest. How could dolls have voices? But these did. Like Jai, they seemed lost here.
Hopeless. Lifeless. Their pretty faces were the only thing that made the Dark House bearable.
Suddenly, she could see that she wasn’t alone. There was another voice in this place. Jai could see him now that she squinted against the blackness.
A boy in a white shirt and black pantaloons stared back at her—even in the dark, she sensed his utter hatred. Why did everyone hate her? What had she done to deserve such hatred?
The intruder must be a gui, a ghost. The boy with black eyes, darker than even her own, growled at her. She pushed against the closet door. Not a ghost! He had to be an emoi. A demon. What was he doing here? The people down here in this hot, humid place did not seem to notice that they were surrounded by whispering darkness.
Get out! This is my space!
“Mama!” she cried as the smell of her wet clothing assaulted her nose. All she could do was bang her head against the door and stare into the black.
He was on all fours now, like a weird sort of doll. His head turned around and around and around, spinning easily like a toy. Jai screamed at the horrible sight. She banged harder now as he inched forward, his black eyes shining, practically sparkling as he growled again.
My space! Get out!
“Let me out of here!” Jai shrieked desperately, and to her surprise, the door came open. Light filled the dark, stinky space. Her rescuer was none other than her captor, Mary Alice.
“What is all the fuss, China? Do you know what my father will do to you if you make too much noise? He will send you away—you will vanish like a feather on the wind. Like dust on the breeze. Vanish. Can you say vanish? Of course you can’t. Maybe he will burn you up instead. That is what he does sometimes. I have seen him do it. I’m not supposed to watch, but I do.”
Mary Alice did not appear to care that Jai sat in wet clothing, that she was dehydrated and wanted to vomit. She did not notice the emoi in the closet, but when Jai closed her eyes slightly, she saw him at the back, hiding in the only remaining shadow. She would never go in there again. No, never!
The terrified child had no idea what Mary Alice was talking about. All she knew was she wanted out. Out, out, out. Out of this closet and out of this house. Jai scurried out of the closet and began talking too fast and not in English. Her terrified mind would not allow her to process the words, the experience, the horrible boy in the closet. Thankfully, she did not see him now.
Mary Alice squatted down in front of her, holding the doll that had lured Jai to her torture chamber. She waved it before the younger girl’s face. “She does not belong to you. These are their dolls. All of them, the ones he makes into dust. Phew. You stink. Did you piss yourself? Scaredy-cat. You were not in there that long. How did you manage to get stuck inside? The door opened simply fine for me.”
Jai did not believe her, did not believe a word of what she was saying, at least the words she could understand. She stared at the doorknob. There was no lock, no way to lock the door unless someone stood on the other side and held it. Mary Alice was such a cruel person; she had proven her hatred for Jai many times by making her bleed, tempting her with dolls and the torturing her when she dared to touch one.
“You lie!” She whimpered as she scooted away and then rose to her feet clumsily. She felt tired, tired all over, like she had drunk a cup of Mama’s special tea, the kind she drank whenever she was sick with the fever. It always made her sleepy.
“I never lie. You should know this is the truth. He burns them up, but I always keep something. These are mine. They are all that is left of them—and they are mine. Why did you break her?” Mary Alice demanded in a loud voice.
Then the voices returned, the whisperings of dozens of angry people, mostly children, some adults. Jai had to leave, needed to run. The maids would discover her inside the house soon, and then there would be nothing to prevent her from getting a good beating. That was the last thing she wanted.
“No, not me,” she whispered in fear as Mary Alice towered over her. Jai’s back was against the wooden stair railing. Mary Alice’s pretty face went blank, expressionless, and her pale hand rose high and threatened to give Jai a brutal swat. As Jai closed her eyes and clutched the wooden bannister, the closet door began to swing open, wide open. Then the shadow boy, the emoi, raced toward them both. And the next thing she knew, Jai was falling.
The snapping of wood and a tumbling doll were the last things she heard and saw before she died. Mary Alice screamed at the sight, but Jai could not see her anymore. She was walking the streets of Shanghai, her little brother’s hand in her own. How sweet—he would be her little doll now. Xin had been a baby when he died, but he was growing here in the Land of Death. Strangely enough, she could see the sun on the horizon, but there was no doubt she was dead. All the way dead.
Still, if she paid attention, she could hear the voices. They were clearer now. They were not threatening her, and the boy wasn’t trying to hurt her either. She could see him, the emoi, watching them from the other side of the street. She clutched Xin’s hand, and they began to run. Her brother asked no questions and followed her. But the voices—she could not make them go away. They swirled around her, and no matter how far she ran, Jai could still hear them. She pleaded with them in her native tongue, but they wanted her. They needed her. She was one of them. Had she burned in the fire too?
“No! Go away!”
With one last hiss, she heard them fade away. Their pleas for help vanished as quickly as her life. Even the emoi had vanished. But at least she had Xin now.
Poor Mama. She would miss Jai, and Jai would miss her, but Xin’s hand was warm and safe. And that’s all Jai ever wanted to be.
Warm and safe.
Chapter Six—Macie
“There is beauty in repetition,” my grandmother used to tell me. “Comfort too, if you open your heart and appreciate it.” I think what she really meant to say was there was comfort in repetition. Like shelling peas or canning peaches or hanging sheets on the clothesline. These were things we had done year after year without fail growing up. I never saw the beauty in any of it because my heart was always elsewhere, mostly wondering where Jocelyn and our mother were and what they were up to. In the beginning, staying with my grandmother felt like an extended vacation, but then school started and no Jocelyn.
Christmas came and went and no Jocelyn.
Then my birthday and her birthday and nothing. Later she called occasionally, but our mother never did. I was four years younger than Jocelyn, but it may as well have been a decade. We were never close, but I loved her.
For the life of me, I still did not know why she and Mom left. And why I was left behind. My grandmother would never talk about the bad blood between her and my mother.
“Macie, you need some help? Need a hand?” Carmen asked me as he dogged my steps. He was encroaching on my personal space.
“No, I’m good. On second thought, will you ask Joshua or Sierra if we need to bring that fold-up table? I think we have everything else.”
He looked like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. “Sure. I’ll go check the sheet.”
He left me alone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Carmen’s pushy presence made me queasy. How was I going to get through the night with this guy? But then Ray appeared, and with his silent smile came a strange comfort.
“Last of the gear?” His easy presence settled my nerves, and I crawled into the back of the van to run over the checklist.
“Looks like it,” I answered as I made tick marks on the printed shee
t. Man, this was a lot of equipment. Not to mention my own equipment, my pens and notebooks that were stuffed in my backpack. I was not sure how the team would react to my weird skill set, but they seemed to accept Cassidy pretty solidly. And my sister. But I could not draw or sketch or paint. I did not have any luck with spirit photography, either.
Automatic writing was my thing. The problem was controlling it when I needed to. When I got too deep into a trance, I tended to lose my way—which meant they had more control than I did. That was frightening. In the beginning, it had been completely overwhelming.
“Have you done many of these? Investigations, I mean?” Ray asked curiously.
“More than a few dozen. There’s beauty in repetition.”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “A few dozen? Wow, that’s a lot. I guess I am the rookie on this investigation. Can I ask you something?”
I finished my checking and got back out of the van. I liked Rayvon Jericho, but I didn’t want to get too close to anyone. Although again, I liked his vibe much more than Carmen’s. Poor Carmen. He seemed to rub people the wrong way without even trying. I could relate to him, but that didn’t make me like him.
“Depends. What’s your question, Ray?” I slid my hands into my leather jacket and fiddled with my keys. It was a nervous tic I had. I hoped Ray didn’t pick up on it.
“Jericho is fine. Hardly anyone calls me Ray. Except my auntie.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Jericho it is. What’s your question?”
“Your sister, Jocelyn.” He hemmed and hawed without coming right out and asking me what he wanted to know. My stomach sank at this line of questioning. Did I really want to answer?
“Are you open to receiving a message from her? Have you ever received one?”
I shook my head without thinking about the question too much. It was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn’t even think about it, and I couldn’t say why. “Why?”
“Sometimes those that have passed over come through and want to speak. I thought I would ask first. I’m sorry if it comes across as insensitive. I really do apologize.”
The Wayland Manor Haunting (Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Two Series Book 1) Page 4