The Wayland Manor Haunting (Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Two Series Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  After a few seconds, he chose the latter with a pronounced whine. I tried not to hold it against him. He didn’t really know me, did he? Yeah, poor guy.

  Okay, computer. What do you want to tell me? Oh, neat!

  The camera stream from Wayland Manor sent me a notification that there was something wrong with the footage. I tapped on the link in the email. The stream came right up, after a few fuzzy seconds. I didn’t see anything wrong at all.

  All six screens displayed beautifully. My eyes went to the screen with the light arrays first. That screen was brighter and tempted me to watch. No, nothing happened there. But the other screens…those were interesting. I watched in surprise as a shadow traveled from one screen to another, crossing all of them one at a time. What? This was incredible. I checked the settings to make sure it was being recorded. Yep! All was well.

  But that one door, the closet door upstairs, it began to move slightly. Forward and then back again. Only an inch, then two inches and then nothing. It was like someone was playing games with me. Whoever was on the other side of the screen wanted me to keep watching. Why? I double-checked, and I was indeed recording everything. Good thing, too. It was rare to get this kind of evidence. I kind of wished I could head over to Wayland Manor and check out this phenomenon. Nope. It was barely six a.m. I glanced at my oversize watch with the large leather band; it was my favorite piece of jewelry. In fact, it was my only piece of jewelry. So much for getting a few hours of sleep. I cinched back my hair in a ponytail and stared at the screen. I decided to minimize the other screens and focus on this one.

  What am I watching? An open window causing the door to move. I don’t think we left any doors ajar. Doors opening on their own are often caused by just that.

  Tapping on the keyboard, I drew my leg up in the chair and stared at the near blackness. I pulled back the camera’s view so I could get the whole door in the shot. I scribbled down the time on a notepad, just to record near the time I got this notification. I didn’t set up the system to send Sierra notifications. From what I gathered, she and Joshua had their hands full with their young daughter. I had a mind to help them, not make them lose sleep.

  I yawned and pondered the idea of making coffee. Yeah, why not? It wasn’t too early, was it? What I really needed to do was pour some coffee in my eyes. They were heavy and oh, so tired. Oh, well, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, I thought sourly.

  All of a sudden, I heard scratching. The scratching was coming from the other side of the screen, not from inside my studio apartment. I glanced at Sherman. Naturally, he wasn’t interested in protecting me or discovering what that sound might be. Thanks again, Sherman. How long are you going to be mad at me for taking you away from Bozo? Or are you punishing me for not being Jocelyn?

  As if he read my mind, Sherman got up, turned around in circles three times and stopped so his back was facing me. Then he collapsed on his bed again with a whimper.

  Thanks for nothing, dude. I leaned back in my rickety computer chair and watched the door. Would it open again? Was the activity over?

  No, wait a second. Did it move again? I couldn’t tell. I’d been staring at the screen for so long, I was afraid to look away. Even though my eyes were burning from lack of sleep.

  But yes, the door swung open. Wide open. I held my breath as I leaned in closer. The blackness of the closet terrified me, but I could not tear my eyes away. Suddenly a face appeared, and not a girl’s face either. It was a young man’s face—no, a boy’s face. He screamed silently, his black eyes locked on me, and then the door slammed shut. There was no mistake about what he said. I heard his words in my head loud and clear.

  GET OUT!

  My hands were still shaking when I picked up the phone to call Sierra.

  NIGHT TWO

  Chapter Thirteen—Jericho

  We were amazed at the footage Macie shared with us. To my mind, this was the most compelling paranormal video I had ever seen. What was that thing in the closet? At the heart of it, I believed it was human—or it once had been human. And if it was human, we would be able to communicate with it. This thing, what we’d caught on video, that was the real problem here. Not the man downstairs, not even the creepy vibes we all got in the yard…it was completely and totally this thing.

  But as Sierra reminded us often, teamwork makes the dream work. Sierra took another psychic walk through the house, only this time, I accompanied her. True, most paranormal investigative teams did not employ mediums, but I was relieved to see that this group was different. And they usually got to the truth—backed up by evidence, and that’s all that mattered.

  It was strange how many times Sierra and I appeared to pick up on the same things. Like us feeling a lot of activity in the kitchen. People working, maids with starched aprons cooking and cleaning, preparing for elaborate shindigs. All residual energy.

  “Yeah, I get that too, Jericho.” The affirmations did wonders for my confidence. Hearing her say, “Yes, I feel that,” or “Yes, I see something similar,” erased those years of uncertainty.

  “How do we get rid of the residual energy? Or can we?”

  Sierra eyed me suspiciously. “You really don’t know? I mean, you are a healer, and you don’t know?”

  I rubbed at my tanned skin and shrugged. “Nope. All I know is…well, that’s just it. I don’t know much.”

  “If the homeowner wants us to cleanse the place of residual energy, we can, but we usually bring in other groups to do that. Residual energy is easy to banish, with the right incense, prayer and intention. The other energies, those are a bit more difficult to manage.”

  See? That’s why I needed to be with this group. There was no replacing hands-on training. Yeah, I was extremely grateful for this opportunity and planned on staying with Gulf Coast Paranormal—if they would have me. Even if it wasn’t for a paid position. Let Carmen have the money, I needed/wanted the camaraderie. No question. This really wasn’t a competition to me.

  I wanted to stick around.

  Sierra walked around the sunroom slowly, and I glanced down at Joshua, who had his headphones on. Macie scribbled in her notebook beside him. Carmen sat in the folding chair beside Joshua and stared back up at me.

  “The man here, I get a different vibe from him. Not like the one upstairs at all. The man downstairs, he was unhappy, sad, angry. He didn’t like the changes that were happening, but there was something more going on here. Much more than meets the eye.”

  Sierra squatted on the floor, her hands rubbing over the uneven Sheetrock. It hadn’t been painted yet, and there was no Sheetrock mud either. Obviously, it was a work in progress, but it didn’t look like much. It didn’t reflect well on the contractor. It looked more like a rookie had done it. The Sheetrock was crooked, and the lower edge was crumbling. There was still plenty of light in the sunroom. The sun would be going down in about fifteen minutes.

  I was breaking out in a sweat and couldn’t say why. “Sierra, does all this ever make you sick? I mean, physically?” I was curious about how her abilities worked. I knew she had them, but she was not very forthcoming with that information. I was genuinely curious.

  “No, I’m not really a physical medium, although there are times when I feel what they feel. I’m more like a psychic knower. Do you know the difference?”

  “I’m ashamed to say that I don’t know the difference at all. Isn’t that sad? I know I’m a healer, but sometimes I get sick. Certain spirits make me sick.”

  Sierra smiled patiently. “You have to do a better job of protecting yourself, Jericho. You can’t allow the dead to thrust their emotions on you, and don’t invite them to do so unless you really want to experience that.”

  “I don’t think I have ever consciously decided to allow the dead to share their emotions,” I answered honestly. “Yet, I’m feeling sick.”

  “It’s just that lack of mindfulness that will invite disaster. Put a wall up, in your mind. Say aloud, ‘You can’t touch me,’ or ‘No one can touch me.’ These
small things will help you live with your gift.”

  I considered her words, but she turned her attention back to the Sheetrock. “Joshua, would you mind joining us, please? Bring your flashlight and EMF detector.”

  “Got it. On the way.” The radio crackled loudly, and we waited for Joshua to make an appearance. I knew Macie was itching to get into that closet upstairs, but the team felt as if this particular part of the Wayland Manor haunting could be put to rest with a little research. The word CARETAKER came through the Ovulis ghost box more than once. Although we never got a name, it was clear that this person, whoever it was haunting the renovation area, thought of himself as a caretaker. Officially or unofficially, this was his job and he took it seriously.

  Joshua began waving his EMF detector up and down the wall. Again, on a whim, we tugged at the Sheetrock and were mortified to find ungrounded electrical wire, all kinds of shortcuts, badly cut Sheetrock and even trash behind the wall. Including a liquor bottle.

  “I’ve seen everything now,” Sierra said as she shook her head. “I’ve seen all kinds of things hidden in walls—shoes, books, talismans. But never liquor bottles and cheese puff bags. This guy needs a swift kick in the pants.”

  “Sierra, use your camera and take a few pictures of this mess. This is beyond ridiculous. It makes sense to me now. This caretaker doesn’t want this contractor getting away with this. He’s putting everyone at risk here. Imagine if this wall caught on fire.” The Ovulis went off again, and this time it spewed out a bunch of profanities.

  “What did it say?”

  I didn’t answer Sierra because I was not going to be the one to repeat them. Joshua said, “This caretaker fellow is angry. We’ll do an EVP session in a minute, but I’ve got a hunch.”

  Joshua found a hammer lying around and used it to pull back the Sheetrock. They didn’t replace the pipes, there was no insulation…nothing at all in these walls was going to be different than what they had before except the Sheetrock.

  “Macie, come join us. Carmen, you may as well join us too. The more the merrier.” The sun disappeared, and the incomplete sunroom was growing darker by the minute. The glass windows had not yet been installed, so one entire wall was open to the elements. The Ovulis rested on the side wall, and we’d found the trash and bad wiring on the opposite wall.

  Macie and Carmen appeared quickly, and I was happy to see that Macie had her notebook in her hand. I was interested in what she picked up. Would it be different than what the Ovulis captured? “You ready to do some writing?”

  She reached for the chair and sat down, opening the notebook and taking the cap off the pen. “I don’t feel much in here right now. I think he’s outside. He doesn’t like that we are all in here.”

  “Should we leave?” I asked hopefully.

  “No, it’s all good. Let me ask a few questions. Go ahead and turn the Ovulis off. I don’t want to confuse him, and I get the feeling he can be easily confused.”

  We got quiet as Macie waited to connect. Then she began to write. More like scribble. First one page and then another. Scribble, scribble, scribble.

  “It’s a warning. He says that someone, a living person, wants to burn this place down. They want to destroy it. The Caretaker is trying to protect the place. It’s weird,” Macie’s blank eyes stared into nothing as she scribbled in cursive on the yellow legal notepad. She turned another page and continued scribbling. “He’s trying to tell anyone that will listen. This guy, the people working in here, they aren’t to be trusted. I think if we let him know that his voice has been heard, that we are taking his warning seriously, he’ll be happy.”

  “We can do that, Caretaker,” Sierra said in an authoritative voice as she took more pictures of the room. “We will make sure Amanda knows the truth about what’s going on here.”

  And then, just like that, Macie stopped writing. It was as if a fountain had been turned off, right at the spigot.

  “Look at this!” Joshua seemed even more aggravated about the shoddy workmanship. “We really need to call Amanda and tell her what we found.”

  “I agree, but let’s take some decent pictures too. We want to back up the claims with facts.” Sierra’s blond ponytail bounced as she nodded her head. “I don’t think we need to move the Caretaker on. We’ll leave that up to Amanda too. For now, it’s enough. We got the message.”

  Footsteps, multiple footsteps drew our attention to the second floor, but I was feeling a tug in another direction. Sure, they were up there, the children, the trapped ones. But the ones outside, they were demanding attention.

  We would not deny them.

  Chapter Fourteen—Macie

  I couldn’t hide my anxiety any longer. I was dying to go out to the burning place, to the crematorium. I really dreaded it but needed to do it at the same time. “We need to go out to that location, guys. Out to the crematorium. This is where we’ll see what we’re looking for. This is it. The man, the one who burns things, burns people, he’s out here. I told you what I saw in my dream. I can feel him close by. He’s real, and he’s angry, and he wants to harm us, especially the ladies.”

  Sierra said, “I agree with Macie. I can feel his rage, but it’s all confused. I took your dream to heart, Macie. I did my research before we got here. You are right, there used to be a crematorium on the property from 1845 to about 1900. From what I could uncover, there was no bad press about the place, but just imagine. Crematoriums weren’t all that popular except during war times.”

  “Hey, Jericho? Do you have your flashlight?” I asked.

  “Yes, I have one.” He clicked it on, and the five of us began making our way to the wooded area.

  I suddenly hoped a snake wouldn’t appear. I hate snakes, almost as much as my ex-boyfriend. Total dirtbag. The ex, not the snakes. We paused as we heard rattling in the bushes. Probably some wildlife, a squirrel or a rabbit doing its best to stay out of the way. I whistled softly; I don’t know why. Nobody whistled back. We didn’t hear the leaves shuffling again.

  Sierra continued, “Anyway, the crematorium wasn’t attached to the house. As you can see, it’s a ways from the house past the trees, which look pretty old. No crimes were reported in the paper—no suspicions. Mr. Wyatt Wayland was an upstanding citizen, by all accounts. The only thing was he was very wealthy. I mean, there was no reason for him to be in the cremation business. I don’t know, it seems strange to me.”

  I followed behind Jericho. “I don’t care what the papers say. There was something funky going on with this man. He’s not on the up and up. Not at all.”

  “Let’s try the Ovulis and see if we have any luck with that. Maybe this Wyatt Wayland wants to talk,” Sierra said to Carmen, who appeared extremely uncomfortable with the idea of going to the woods at the back of the manor house.

  Joshua piped up, “I’ve got the SLS too. Just in case we need it. Any idea where this location might be? Are we just going to ramble around out here?” Nobody answered, except me.

  “About a tenth of a mile in that direction.” We cleared the distance in no time and then kind of waited.

  “If you look closely, you can see the remnants of a large, low building. It was originally made of brick, but eventually it started to crumble. Yes, he preferred children. He really liked burning the children.” I blinked back tears, afraid of what the others might think of me and my emotional state.

  Everyone watched me, but at least Carmen and Joshua had equipment running. “Whoa! Go back over there, Macie,” Joshua said. “Yeah, right there. Put your hand out in front of you. There’s a small image, right in front of you. Just standing there. Look at this, Carmen.”

  Carmen hurried beside Joshua and began watching the screen. “Now there’s two of them. Two children? I mean, they look like children. Small and moving strangely.”

  They were trailing after me, but I knew exactly where I was going. Here it was, the building! If I closed my eyes, I could hear their screams. The screams of all the children. Oh, God! Did he burn them
alive? No! That couldn’t be right.

  I fell on the vine-covered ground and clutched at my face with my hands. Then I dug out my notebook and pen. “I have to write! I have to get the words on paper! I know he’s trying to communicate.”

  “Can you see the children?” Carmen demanded without concern for anyone’s well-being. I heard Sierra’s camera phone going off. She was doing her best to gather evidence, but she wouldn’t get much out here. Not unless she had skills with spirit photography, like my late sister.

  “Children, I see children. Some of them are burned. Some of them are not, but they are all afraid. He’s here—he’s a collector!” I blurted out as I kept my eyes closed and tried to make sense of what it was that I was seeing. Was this man killing children, or were they already dead? I saw a little girl with blond hair, big blue eyes and a runny nose. He gave her a doll. Another doll. It was his way of sharing his collection with her. Maybe she would grow up to be like him. Maybe he could teach her how to tend to the dead.

  I popped the cap off the pen and opened the notebook. Cracking my neck, I waited for my hand to begin receiving messages. It did not take long. I gasped as I felt that strange connection, that odd feeling that comes over me when I am working with the dead. “He says it is his duty. He can’t let them rot. He collects them, but he doesn’t keep them. He’s really insistent about that.”

  “Great, he’s a weirdo with a conscience,” Carmen muttered as he set up a REM pod near me. It pinged to the yellow and stayed there the whole time I was writing.

  “Quiet a second,” I barked at him. Thankfully, he shut up because the dead guy was very sensitive about judgment. Very sensitive indeed. “He feels judged by everyone. It is a compulsion of his, cremation and tending to the dead. He doesn’t want to let them rot. Wayland—yes, this is Mr. Wayland—he believes he is helping the children. But…” I sobbed at the scene that played out in my head.