No Ghouls Allowed

by Victoria Laurie

  The fact that she communicated to me so clearly through Heath made Mama’s words real and undeniable, but I will admit that I both loved and hated hearing him relay her messages. I loved it because I missed her so much, but I hated it because it always reminded me that she was physically absent from my life, and no matter how often I “heard” from her, I’d still never feel her arms wrap around me or hear the lilt of her sweet voice in this lifetime again. Unless of course she came to visit me in one of my dreams, but even that fell short of having her here with me in this world.

  “She said that she loves Christine,” Heath said. “And she loves the way your dad has come out of his shell, Em.” Looking meaningfully at me, Heath added, “She also said that she’s happy you and your dad are talking to each other again. She’s super proud of how you’re handling all this.”

  My eyes misted and I blinked furiously. Nothing touched me more than hearing that Mama was proud of me. “Thanks, sweetie,” I whispered, and had to look away until I could compose myself.

  The van fell into companionable silence as Gilley drove us through Valdosta’s beautiful streets. I had a sudden pang of homesickness for the place that, only a dozen years before, I couldn’t wait to get away from, and found myself leaning my head toward the window to catch the lovely breeze and the sweet smell of fresh peaches, which was so much a part of my history. Summer was just gearing up and the smell more than the sights of my home city was taking me back to a time when I was young and carefree. Before Mama died and the gray cloud of sadness settled into our lives.

  “Hey!” Gil exclaimed, jerking me from my thoughts. “There’s Christine’s place—Porter Manor! They cut down all the trees along that ridge, M.J.”

  I turned to look out Gilley’s window, and sure enough, the massive house could now be clearly seen at the top of a ridge that’d once been thick with trees. The Porters had been a very private family, and they’d done nothing in the hundred and fifty years of owning the manor to make it more visible to the people of the town. “Huh,” I said, a little sad to see all the trees gone, but also impressed by the size of the place, which I’d never realized was as big as it now appeared.

  “Whoa,” Heath said. “It’s at least as big as any castles we’ve investigated overseas.”

  “It’s the largest single home in Valdosta,” Gil said smartly. “Mama sent me the listing when it went on the market. It had all the historic details, and the square footage posted at ten thousand square feet.”

  Heath whistled his appreciation. “That’s huge. Have either of you ever been inside?”

  Gil pulled over just below the ridge and we all gazed up at the manor. “No,” Gil said. “But I’ve always wanted to take a peek.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have?”

  He nodded. “Haven’t you?”

  I squinted up and nodded. “Yeah. I suppose I have.”

  “Well, we told Christine that we’d investigate it today, so we’d better get to it,” Heath reminded us.

  Gil put the van into drive and pulled away from the curb. I could see his curiosity was getting the better of him.

  Gilley had gotten a little braver about interacting with spooks in recent months and I thought that his boyfriend, Michel, was responsible for the change. Michel wasn’t fazed by much and that seemed to calm Gil down considerably on all fronts. Of course, I fully expected him to wait in the van until Heath and I completed the investigation and gave the all clear, but still, his enthusiasm for a ghostbust was something to be noted.

  After winding our way up the hill, we finally arrived at the bottom of the drive leading to Porter Manor. The entrance of the manor was a dirt drive flanked by two huge crumbling brick pylons. The drive was at least a quarter mile long and lined with ancient oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. At the end of the road was the manor, a regal-looking three-story Greek Revival plantation home, with white paint and black shutters, which was now a bit haggard with age and neglect. Only a large section of the middle was visible through the trees. Even so, what could be seen was impressive. As Gil hesitated at the bottom of the drive, I felt goose pimples rise up along my arms and I glanced back at Heath only to see his brow furrowed.

  “Cool, isn’t it?” Gilley said, his enthusiasm never waning.

  “It is,” Heath agreed, his gaze darting to me, and when I held out my arm to show him the goose pimples, he smiled and nodded. The place was ringing with spectral energy all right. “Let’s have a look, then,” Heath said.

  Gil took his foot off the brake and we made our way slowly down the drive, kicking up a good cloud of dust as we went. The closer we got, the more intrigued I became. The house was even bigger up close than it had appeared from down below at the bottom of the hill. It loomed like a behemoth at the end of the drive, growing in size as we approached until, when we parked near the front door, it seemed to block out the sun and cast us in shadow.

  An involuntary shudder snaked its way down my spine and I couldn’t help but smile. I’ve spent many years now creeping through haunted spaces, and what I used to fear, I’ve now come to appreciate in a way that only repeated experiences with the spirits of the dead can foster: namely, a wealth of admiration for historical landmarks that soak up the memory of the living so intensely that some spooks find it hard to leave. I love the mystery of digging through the ether to figure out the history of a haunted space; the identity of the ghosts haunting the hallways and why they haven’t moved on are the mysteries that continue to captivate me.

  “Do we have anything in here for protection?” Heath asked from the backseat, and I saw him looking over his shoulder into the back of the van.

  “I doubt it,” Gil said. “M.J. made me get rid of everything not nailed down in here before we set out from Boston.”

  He said that like it was my fault we didn’t have any of the magnetic spikes or the gear we normally used to ward off the more aggressive spooks. “The van was filthy, Gil, and you know it. Besides, I only told you to clean it out, not get rid of everything useful in it.”

  “How was I supposed to know we were gonna do a ghostbust down here?”

  I put a hand on his arm. “You didn’t. So this isn’t your fault or mine.”

  “Do you want to wait?” Heath asked, turning back to me.

  I eyed the house. “Nah. At most it’s probably some crotchety old relative of the Porters who just needs a good talking-to. We’ll be fine.”

  Gil offered me a level look. “You know who else always says stuff like that?”

  “Who?”

  “Velma, right before she, Shaggy, Scooby, and the rest of the gang go running for their lives.”

  I chuckled. Since our show, Ghoul Getters, had started to air on cable, Gil had become obsessed with the comments section of the show’s Web site, and a few of the “fans” who had compared us to Scooby-Doo. I’ll admit that it’d stung a little at first, reading their less than kind jabs, especially when I kept getting compared to Velma, but now I could actually see the humor in it. Gil was also starting to come around, to a lesser degree of course, but that was likely because most everyone compared him to either Shaggy or Scooby.

  The three of us stepped from the van in unison, and in silence, each of our chins tilted upward toward the second and third stories. High overhead was a circular balcony and my attention seemed drawn by it in particular. As I squinted to the black ironwork railing, a flicker of movement made me suck in a breath.

  “What?” I heard Heath ask.

  I pointed toward the railing and said, “I thought I saw something up there.”

  Heath said, “Huh. I saw something in that window.” And he pointed toward a large picture window to his right.

  In the next second I felt a great force hit me from the side and I was airborne, flying sideways into Heath, who let out a grunt of pain as we both tumbled to the g
round in a heap. Somewhere behind me I heard a loud crash, and a spray of rocks bit painfully into my back and shoulders. “What the . . . ?!” I cried, just as I realized Gilley was also lying next to me, his arm still wrapped around my middle.

  Bewildered, I watched him shake his head and try to untangle himself from me. “You okay?” he asked.

  I brushed a little of the debris out of my hair and lifted my left arm to allow him some room. “What happened?”

  Gil brushed at his own head, and small chunks of black debris clinked to the ground. Instead of answering me, he pointed behind him. “That planter,” he said, a little out of breath. “The second you turned your head, it came off the balcony and headed straight for you.”

  My eyes widened. The remnants of a large black planter lay smashed and broken exactly where I’d been standing. If that thing had hit me, there’s no way I would’ve survived.

  “Whoa,” Heath said, but I was too shocked to speak. “Em, you okay?” he asked after a moment.

  I nodded dully, still amazed that I’d come that close to death and hadn’t even known it. And then I focused on Gilley, who was looking a bit pale and shaken himself. Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him fiercely. “Thank you, sweetie!”

  Gil let out a small chuckle. “It was nothing,” he said humbly.

  I released Gil, and Heath helped me to my feet. We all moved tentatively over to the planter to inspect it, our gazes moving from the planter up to the third-story balcony, where it must’ve come from.

  “I’d say that somebody in there isn’t so happy we’ve stopped by,” Heath whispered. “Maybe we should go and come back another time? Like when we’re covered in magnets.”

  “You know,” I said, still staring up at the balcony, “I think that’s a great idea.”

  The three of us turned back to the van and got in. Gil’s hands were shaking a little as he reached down to turn the key, but all of a sudden there was another gigantic crash and the front windshield imploded.

  I screamed and so did Gil. In the next moment the three of us were back out of the van, and Gilley and I were shaking the broken glass off us. “Guys!” Heath said, pointing our attention back toward the van. “Look!”

  I was so stunned that all I could do was stand there with my mouth agape. On the top of the hood was another huge planter, which had cratered itself on the hood and imploded the windshield.

  “Another six inches and it would’ve killed us!” Gil exclaimed.

  “There’s no way we can drive out of here now,” Heath said. He was right. The van was at best inoperable and at worst totaled.

  “So what the hell do we do?” Gil squeaked, his gaze moving from the van to the house and back again.

  I turned toward the front door of Porter Manor, anger fueling my thoughts. “We find the son of a bitch throwing planters at us!”

  “We can’t go in there!” Gil screeched, and suddenly there was another loud crash and I ducked low, covering my head with my arms. Slowly I craned my head to look back at the van, which had been struck on the right front quarter panel by a third planter.

  Heath came up next to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the front door. “At some point whoever’s up there has to run out of pots.”

  Hurrying to the door, we were passed by Gil, who streaked up to the porch and trembled pathetically next to the door. “What the hell is going on?” he practically shouted when we joined him.

  “Don’t know,” I said. “You might wanna stay right here, though, honey. At least until we know what else could come flying off the balcony.”

  I then put my hand on the door and Gil said, “What if it’s locked?”

  I hadn’t thought of that, and tried the knob only to discover it was locked. “Dammit,” I muttered. “I should’ve gotten a key from Christine before we left.” No sooner had I finished that sentence than the front door suddenly clicked and swung open with a loud creak.

  “Whoa!” Heath whispered again.

  We stood there for several beats, frozen to the spot while we contemplated the fact that the door had just unlocked itself and opened wide. “I think maybe I should make a run for the road,” Gilley said, his eyes wide with fright.

  I grabbed his arm to stop him; something told me not to let him out of my sight. “Hang on,” I said, that foreboding getting stronger. A moment later a paint can came flying from somewhere above, hit the drive, and paint splattered everywhere. A second after that, several bricks smashed to the ground, kicking up debris that found its way to the porch and hit our legs.

  Both Gilley and I shrieked while Heath grabbed me around the waist and hauled my butt through the door. As I was still holding on to Gilley, he had no choice but to stumble along with me. The second we were through the door, however, it slammed behind us and we were plunged into the dim interior.

  “What the hell?!” Gil cried, his voice now quavering with fear.

  I let go of him and pulled away from Heath to go back to the front door and give it a tug. I wanted to know what’d happened outside, but the door was now locked again, and no matter what I did to the lock, it wouldn’t open.

  “It’s stuck!” I growled, yanking on the handle.

  Heath moved up next to me and I let him try, but he couldn’t get it to open either.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Leave it. We’ll find another way out.”

  “I don’t like this place, M.J.!” Gil said, sidling up next to me close enough to share my shirt.

  I took his hand again and squeezed it. “It’ll be okay, Gil. We just need to find another exit and we’ll be on our way.”

  “How’re we gonna get out of here, though?” Gil pressed. “We can’t drive the van in that condition.”

  I lifted my cell phone. I’d been clutching it the whole time we’d been at the house. “I’ll call Daddy,” I said. But as I pressed the HOME button, the screen remained dark. I pressed it again, with no luck. I muttered under my breath and tried to think of what to do.

  “Please don’t tell me your phone’s dead,” Gil whispered when I covered my eyes with my hand.

  “Try yours,” I told him.

  Gil reached into his back pocket, but his hand came up empty. Then he began to pat himself. “Where’s my phone?”

  “You don’t have it?” I asked.

  Gil shook his head even as he continued to pat himself down.

  “Here,” Heath said, handing me his cell. I pressed the HOME button, but his phone wouldn’t come on either. Meanwhile, Gil had dashed to a nearby window to peer through the pane. “It’s out there!” he wailed. “I must’ve dropped my phone when I pushed you fools out of the way.”

  “We’ll get it back,” I reassured him, moving up next to him to look through the pane to see where he’d dropped his cell.

  “Come on,” Heath said, taking charge. “Let’s find an exit and get the hell out of here.”

  I took his hand and grabbed up Gil’s hand too. Silently I berated myself for being so foolish as to arrive here so unprepared and unprotected. “We should’ve geared up before coming here,” I muttered angrily.

  “Well, we’re in the thick of it now,” Heath said, his head swiveling back and forth as he considered which way to go. “There’s nothing left to do but find a way out as quickly as we—”

  At that moment there was a loud slam from somewhere above us.

  “What was that?!” Gil squeaked.

  Heath tilted his head toward the stairs at the end of the entrance hall. “A door slammed shut somewhere upstairs. The spirit energy in here is pretty active.”

  “The ghoulies in this house don’t waste time, do they?” I asked.

  As if in reply there came another slam!

  Next to me, Gil jumped and squeezed my hand hard. “Where’s the exit?” he whispered. />
  Heath moved forward a few paces with us in tow. “Kitchens always have exits,” he said wisely. “And they’re usually at the back of the house. Come on, maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be down this hallway.”

  But luck wasn’t with us. The hallway we were in passed several large, empty rooms before it came to a dead end with no obvious sign of the kitchen or an exit. Heath frowned when we came to a stop and muttered an expletive. “I would’ve bet the house there’d be a door leading out down here.”

  “Let’s open a few of these doors and see if one of the rooms has an exit,” I suggested, pointing to the few remaining rooms between us and the end of the corridor.

  Heath nodded, but as we headed to the nearest closed door, we heard another nearby door open, then slam. Next to me Gilley jumped. “That wasn’t on the second floor!”

  “The spook is on the move,” Heath whispered, and he glanced at me as if to gauge my reaction.

  I pointed to my bare arms, which were lined with goose pimples. “I don’t like it,” I mouthed, careful not to let Gilley know I felt we could be in even worse danger. He was scared and trembling enough as it was.

  Heath still had ahold of my hand and he stepped a little closer to me before whispering, “Stick tight by my side and keep your antennae up.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. We walked quickly but quietly to the next doorway, which was the last one on the right, and peered in. To my relief I spied what looked like an exit in the far right corner of the room. “There!” I said, pointing to it so the boys would see. “That window looks big enough for us to get through. Let’s just open it and hop out.”

  “Oh, thank the baby Jesus!” Gil cried, letting go of my hand and dashing into the room. Heath and I were about to follow when the door slammed shut in our faces. It happened so abruptly that I cried out and stumbled back.

  Heath held his composure and reached for the door handle, but the second he laid his hand on it, he pulled it back and hissed through his teeth. “Dammit!” he swore, shaking his hand back and forth as if he’d burned it.