The Ghosts
Of
Centre Street
A Haunting In Kingston
By
Michelle Dorey
About This Book
It’s a bolt out of the blue when Barry and Myra inherit a gorgeous manor home, one that they would never have been able to afford. The house is a wonderful place to start their family. Solid limestone walls, high ceilings on tree filled acreage. What’s not to love about the place?
The old woman bequeathed them a blessing...or so they thought...at first.
Very soon they discover they’re not alone here. It begins insidiously as soon as they move in with cold spots in the living room. Malevolent forces stir; the presence of Myra’s unborn child lashes them into an escalating fury. Soon, crashing noises and objects flying through the air intensify.
Their home is a battleground, resting uneasily on powerful, mystical land.
Any reasonable person would flee, but they can’t. If they do, an unspeakable evil will be freed. They have to stand and fight, no matter the cost.
No matter the grief.
A powerful tale of gruesome spirits and ordinary people colliding in a supernatural thriller!
Copyright 2016, Michelle Dorey
ISBN: 978-1-927984-86-4
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
91716mobi
Dedication
To Corliss, my sister who read to me as a young girl. We made it across the ice!
Contents
About This Book
Dedication
Before we begin, a word…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
A Note From The Author
Before we begin, a word…
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Chapter One
Barry Ryan's gaze shifted from the cell phone to the cab's window, spying the entrance to the doctor’s office. Stella was one of his regulars; his was the only taxi she’d take to her various appointments for the last three years. But the pace of the appointments had picked up in the last month. What used to be every few weeks was now every other day. Well, at eighty-six, what would you expect?
He looked back down at his cell phone sitting in his lap, willing it to ring. Why hadn’t Myra called? She said she’d do the test as soon as she got out of bed. His leg twitched a steady rhythm up and down under the steering wheel and he shifted once more in the seat. They’d been through pregnancy tests before, getting their hopes up, only to have them dashed a month later. But this time...this time was different, and he knew it. Myra would carry their daughter to term.
Yeah, and it was definitely a girl. Absolutely, unequivocally, a girl. He smiled picturing the baby in his arms. Even though his ‘touch’ told him what was going on, he still needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. He snorted. Better not let Myra know about that metaphor! They had been waiting and hoping and planning just for this for so long. Hell, they’d been married for years and Myra was getting nervous. Two more years for her and the big three-'O' would arrive.
The apartment would have to go. It was fine for just them, but with a kid? Way too cramped. Besides the neighbourhood was a little on the rough side—no place to raise a daughter.
He jumped at the buzzing cell phone. His mouth was suddenly dry. “Hi.” It came out as a hoarse croak.
“Hey! It’s positive! We’re going to have a baby!” Myra’s voice was full with delight. He could picture her wide green eyes, and the edge of her teeth biting her lower lip the way she always did when she was excited.
“Oh my God! I knew it! And you did the test correctly, the way—”
“I followed the directions exactly! It’s true! I think the baby’s due in June.” She let out a squeal followed by bubbling laughter.
“June huh? Wow!” His hand gripped the phone tightly. June. That wasn’t all that far away...only seven months. They would each really have to put in extra hours now so they could get a new place before she delivered.
Movement to the side caught his eye. The door of the doctor’s office had opened. Stella had stepped out and her back was to him when she turned to say goodbye to the receptionist.
He did an eye roll and smiled. Myra couldn’t have called five minutes earlier? “Sorry, babe, I gotta go; my passenger’s here. I’ll call you later. Love you!”
He clicked the phone off and opened the car door, hurrying up the set of stairs. It had rained earlier and with the carpet of wet leaves coating the sidewalk, it was more treacherous than usual for the old woman.
“Hold on!” He took the last two steps in one bound, placing his hand under her elbow. When the frail bones in her arm pressed his palm, she felt like a bird under the long dark coat.
“Holy doodle, it’s a cold one today! Thanks, Barry, but I should be able to manage.” Her steely blue eyes were framed by wrinkled, parchment skin. Thin, boney fingers curled around the iron railing like a claw.
“No way, Stella. With the wind today, you’d blow away like a leaf.” He tightened his grip as she gingerly descended the first step. “What’d the doctor say? You gonna live?”
Her eyes closed for a moment. “Hmph!” Opening them, she gestured at the car. “Let’s skedaddle.” She resumed maneuvering the granite steps silently.
Barry’s gut tightened and he looked at her closely. Normally, there was a friendly banter back and forth between them when he asked her this. She’d always counter with a line about outliving the fool doctor, but not today. That wasn’t good.
He opened the front door of the cab and held her arm when she turned to take a seat. Her legs above the clunky, orthotic shoes were like twigs, the tan support stockings wrinkled at her ankles. She’d really aged in the last month.
Forcing a smile, he shut the door and strode once more to the driver’s side. When he got in, her head was turned away, gazing out the side window.
He took a deep breath. It was worth one more try to cheer her up. “Where to now? Not the Royal Tap Room again? Y’know, you can’t spend every afternoon there, flirting with all the young stud muffins.” He reached to tap her knee and grinned when she turned to face him. “I’m your driver, not your body guard.”
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Again, his gut sank to the floor when the familiar joke only resulted in a wan smile. He sighed and this time his voice was serious. “Stella? You’re not really okay, are you?”
Her eyes focused on his and she watched him silently for a few moments. “How is Myra doing? I’m sure you know it’s a little girl she’s carrying, right?”
The look of surprise on his face must have been the reason that finally, her lips twitched in a grin. She’d known? Hell, only he and Myra knew she was pregnant and that was just confirmed ten minutes ago!
“Everything will work out well. Don’t worry, Barry. The money and the house will be there when your daughter arrives. And June...it’s the best month of the year.” Her eyes filmed over with tears and she took a deep breath, shaking her head to dispel the sudden sadness.
“How the hell—?”
She let out a whisper of a laugh. “You think you’re the only person in the world with… what do you call it? The touch?” She let out another ‘Hmpf’ and again laughed lightly. “Me? I’ve always called it the grace.” She patted his knee. “I know things, Barry. Just like you, I can see the future and sense...well, let’s just say, I sense things, too.”
Slowly, his eyes closed for a moment. This meant a lot to her, talking about this. And...she had desperate health issues that couldn’t be ignored any longer. Fear and sorrow emanated from her tiny body, cloaking her in a dark cloud. How much time did she have left before...?
As he worked the car through traffic, he kept glancing over at her. She was watching him closely.
Holy doodle, the irony’s so rich! He jumped in his seat. Stella’s voice was in his head?
She gave a sharp laugh. “Oh dear, the look on your face, Barry!” She stared at him again.
Just like birds of a feather, Barry, we don’t really need words.
He yanked the car to the curb, stopping at a fire hydrant.
“How are you doing that!” He wasn’t scared, but shit, that was a surprise!
Watch your language, young man. Why can’t you say ‘doodle’ instead?
“Stella…” he croaked, this is a lot to absorb.”
“Okay, okay… I understand.” She sighed. “I guess I should have come clean with you earlier.” She looked away. “But like all people, I thought I had all the time in the world.” She chuckled. “What a silly old woman.” She turned back to him. “As I was saying, the irony is compelling.” She laid her hands primly on her lap and looked back at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”
Slowly shaking her head, she replied, “Well, you knew that Myra was pregnant before she phoned you, but even so, you needed to hear it…” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “straight from the horse’s mouth.” She let out another bark of laughter at the look on Barry’s face.
“You…”
“Yes, you ninny. But that’s not my point. My point is that I know my time’s very short, but it really didn’t… I don’t know… it didn't count maybe, until that fool doctor told me just now.” She looked over at the fire hydrant and gestured with a hand. “Let’s get me home, alright?”
“Okay.” He put the car in gear and wheeled back into traffic.
Shit! He sighed. There was nothing he could do to change the fact of her death. She was old and her time was close. Any fool could see that; you didn’t need to be psychic to know it.
He felt Stella’s hand on his arm, like a sparrow landing. “You’ve been like a son to me these past couple of years—making sure I get to the doctor, carting my groceries, and even shoveling my walkway the last three winters. You’ve been kind to me, Barry.”
“You’re easy to be kind to, toots.” His eyes were starting to sting.
“Bull patootie. How many other people do you bring presents to, when it’s their birthday? But more than that, you treat me like an equal, not some foolish old woman.” Her hand was now patting his arm, and he took a deep breath.
It’s not REALLY goodbye.
“Barry.”
He glanced over at her and her face was solemn.
“Barry, I never told you the date I was born.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I never told you my birthday.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “You have the second sight, son...same as me. It’s time you accepted that about yourself.” She sighed and shook her head. “Quick. Think of a number.”
He tried to sidestep her suggestion, but eleven sixty three popped into his head, part of the title of a book he was reading.
Immediately, she spoke again. “Eleven sixty three. Now guess my number.”
No! But like before, the words flashed before his eyes. He sighed. “Ninety-nine.”
“See?” She clucked her tongue and this time when she reached for his hand she gave it a quick squeeze. Her voice hitched when she spoke. “I just wish I had more time... I would have liked to be able to hold your daughter.”
“You’ll probably outlive me, Stella. As far as my daughter and holding her—”
“STOP IT! I’ve wanted to have this conversation with you for a long time. I always knew you didn’t want to go down this road but there isn’t much time left. Having the grace, the touch...the sixth sense is part of who you are, Barry. Accept it. It’s important.” Her blue eyes pierced through to his soul.
He snorted, once more trying to make light of it and dodge this conversation. “Not to me it isn’t. Being happy, not hurting other people, that’s what’s important.”
“What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault, Barry.” Her voice was soft and she reached over to squeeze his hand. “You saw something and you told her. We see only one of many outcomes which can happen. Your mother’s free will, her choice made the difference.”
A picture of his mother flashed in his mind and he shook his head, erasing the image like the etch-o-sketch he’d played with as a kid. Stella ‘knew’ too much. He couldn’t fool her but he didn’t need to talk about it either. It was still too painful to deal with. He had put it out of his mind and that’s where it would stay, by hell!
“Barry? All I’m saying is, don’t fight it any more. It’s a gift, kind of like being a child prodigy...being able to play classical music on the piano when you’re only four. Be aware of it, and don’t be afraid to use your gift. You going to need to at some point.” Stella sat back and closed her eyes.
Some gift! If anything it was a curse that brought more complications to his life than solutions. Not to mention the beat downs he’d gotten as a kid in school for ‘being weird’. And the one time he should have used it, he didn’t... He could have saved his mother, but kept his mouth shut.
He sighed. Still...he liked Stella. He looked over at her and his throat clenched, fighting tears that burned behind his eyes. There wasn’t much time. She was going to die soon. The exact time was vague in his mind. It could be a week or even tomorrow.
He reached over and touched her shoulder. “Stella, do you have any relatives left? Do you need me to call anyone...when... well, you know...?”
Her eyes opened and she shook her head, and closed them again.
He felt her presence leave just as he turned the car down the laneway leading to her stately Victorian era home; all of her essence that remained was a hint lilac in the air. A booming burst of thunder made him jump and he watched as raindrops the size of marbles railed down on the windshield. With a sigh he reached over to Stella and shook her arm.
“Stella? We’re here.”
A lonesome sadness engulfed him as he stared at her for a moment. She wasn’t moving at all.
“Stella.” His fingers tightened on her wrist, shaking her harder.
The only response was the bobbing of her head, eyes still closed while her lips had parted slightly. Barry sat still as a stone, watching her, his breath hitched tight in his chest. This couldn’t be happening. He felt like a zombie staring out the windshield. Nothing seemed real.
The rain poured down in torrents and an occasional spark of lightening flashed ac
ross the now blue-black sky. The outline of the two storey, grey limestone house blurred and wavered in the sheets of water rippling on the glass. From where he sat in the circular driveway before the entrance the home was imposing. The same thought he had every time he drove up to it, once again entered his mind: ‘What the hell is an old woman doing living in such a huge place?’ He looked back over to Stella’s body. Well, not anymore.
Like dark eyes, the two windows bordering the gabled entrance peered down at him. When the lightening flared once more, there was a shadow of a figure in the top floor window that vanished along with the flash of light.
Barry’s head jerked forward sucking in a gulp of air, staring at the image. But as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, and only darkness showed in the glass. The hair on the back of his neck tingled and his shoulders rolled in a soft shudder. He could have sworn that there’d been a woman in the window and she’d waved at him, but Stella lived alone.
When he turned to the old lady once more, curiosity mingled with the grief in his gaze. For all the times he’d ferried her around, he really didn’t know much about her life. Who really, was Stella Braithwaite?
Chapter Two
He was just finishing dressing when Myra stirred awake. Damn it. He should have grabbed his clothes and put them on in the bathroom.
She sat up in bed. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come?”
Barry gave his head a small shake. “No, you stay home. It’s going to be…” he shrugged. “Sad.” He looked away. “Forlorn, actually. There won’t be any mourners besides me, and she was a nice woman…” He sighed.
“You said her lawyer’s going to be there though, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. There’s a will and one of its mandates is, it's to be read on the day of her funeral.” He gave a small smile. “I guess I’m getting some sort of bequeath from her.” He stepped to the closet and grabbed his blue blazer and put it on. “How do I look?”
The Ghosts of Centre Street: A Haunting of Kingston (The Hauntings of Kingston Book 3) Page 1