A heavy bang in the front of the house sounded and she jerked upright. Barry was home? Quick as anything, she snapped the laptop shut. She’d have to wait until Barry left again before going back to shopping. After a couple of minutes sitting quietly waiting for him to appear, her eyebrows drew together. It had sounded like the front door closing, but what was he doing?
She wandered slowly through the dining room. “Barry? Is that you?”
Footsteps sounded on the floor above, walking across the hallway and then a door closed with a shuddering bang. She hurried through the room and glanced at the entrance looking for his coat or winter boots. Nothing there. A frown creased her forehead when she looked to the right up the stair case.
She stepped quickly up the stairs. “Barry?” There were four rooms on the upper level, a large master bedroom taking up most of one side of the house next to the bathroom, while two smaller bedrooms were on the opposite side. The doors to the small bedrooms were always shut to conserve heat but their bedroom and the bathroom door were open. She peeked into the bathroom, only to find the room empty save for the claw-foot bathtub, toilet and pedestal sink.
Pulling the heavy fleece bathrobe snug to her body, she stepped into the bedroom. The whimsical crazy patchwork quilt on the bed was a sharp contrast to the deep unease that was settling in her chest. Again, there was no one there in the room.
She stood silently looking around for any sign of what had caused the thud. But really, it was the footsteps that really creeped her out.
Who is up here?
She should call Barry. But the cell phone was down on the kitchen table. Her breath was ragged in her throat and she clutched the robe even tighter still.
After risking a peek out the crack of the bedroom door, she raced down the stair and into the kitchen. Her hands shook, clicking the phone on and tapping his name in the contact list. She gripped it tightly in her hand, cursing as the ringtone buzzed once, twice...in steady rhythm. There was no way she was staying in the house, not if someone was upstairs hiding. She raced to the front hallway and thrust her feet into her winter boots.
“Hello?”
“Barry! I think there’s someone in the house. I heard footsteps upstairs!” Her words were rushed, trying to hold the phone to her ear and shrug her arms into her winter coat.
“I’m two minutes away.”
“Hurry! I’m going outside and walking to the street. I’ll watch for you.” She clicked the phone off and her hand was a flash pulling the front door open and striding out. In the stillness of the snow, it seemed surreal, her feet ploughing briskly through the drifts up the laneway. Had she really heard someone or could it have been something outside?
She shook her head. No way. That was definitely someone walking across the second floor. She was physically sick, not mentally, and even that was just a cold. After a few minutes she was on the sidewalk, looking back at the house for any sign of life, any movement in the window.
Cars driving slowly by on the slippery streets made the falling snow swirl around her body, almost obliterating her view of anything but whiteness. At the sharp blare of a car horn she turned and saw the white cab lumber slowly into the laneway. When he stopped, she pulled the passenger door open and got into the warm interior.
“You okay?”His eyes were wide with concern peering at her.
“I’m fine! Scared as hell, but I’ll survive.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest and she tried to catch her breath. “It sounded like the front door closed and then there were footsteps upstairs. I thought it was you! When I went up, I checked our bedroom and the bathroom.”
“Not the other two bedrooms, right?” His face was a mask of worry mixed with anger.
“Are you kidding! No way.” She shook her head. This was too much for them to handle alone. “We should call the police.”
He looked to the side at the drifts of snow mounting higher in the driveway. “Were there any footprints in the snow when you walked up the lane?”
She’d been so scared, she’d never thought of that. Were there any other marks or footprints besides hers? She couldn’t be sure. But even so, maybe the prowler came around the house from the back yard. “Barry, I’m scared. We should call—”
“No. I know what the problem is.” He sighed and put the car in gear, inching slowly up the driveway to the house. He clicked his seatbelt off and turned to her. “Stay in the car.”
“No way! I’ve got my phone and you’re not going in there alone. I’ll stay by the door with my finger on 911 ready to press it.” She opened the door and looked over at him after she got out. “What do you think it is?”
He looked uncomfortable, looking down at the ground for a moment and then he let out a long sigh. His eyes met hers. “The house is haunted.”
Chapter 8
It didn’t register with her at all. She looked up into his eyes as if he had just spoken in Klingon.
“The who is what?”
Shit. This wasn’t going to go well. At. All. “The house.” He dropped his head and stared at the toes of his boots. “It’s sort of haunted.”
Myra grabbed his open coat. “Barry! This isn’t funny! There’s a burglar upstairs!” With a scoff, she let go and went to her phone pressing buttons. “I’m calling the cops!”
“No, Myra, they’ll think you’re crazy,” he said, keeping his voice calm.
She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. “I’m crazy? You’re kidding, right? I heard someone break in and go upstairs! You’re the one saying Casper’s come for a visit!”
He put his arm around her and turned her towards the driveway and street beyond. With his other hand, he pointed. “Look. There’s your footprints going out to the sidewalk.” He moved his finger. “Those are the only footprints.”
She looked up at him again. “You’re serious?”
The shocked look in her eyes told him he’d really screwed up. He should have told her everything about the house earlier. It was just that he'd wanted this so bad, and he thought he could handle it without involving or upsetting her. “I didn’t think you needed to know...”
“You never thought I needed to know?” Her jaw thrust forward and her lips pressed tight together. She huffed a loud breath that plumed before her face in the frosty air, hiding it for a moment.
“Myra...I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
The thump of her fist giving him a hard swat on the arm was well deserved. “Asshole! I was scared shitless earlier...” She shook her head and looked down at the step, “Frig! I’m still scared! But now I know it’s just...” Her fingers made quotation marks next to her face. “...’ghosts’—something you didn’t think was important enough to mention!”
He dropped his head again and scuffed some snow with his toe. “I’m sorry.”
“Whose ghost, Barry?” She slapped at his chest again. “Was someone murdered in this place? Is that why the living room feels so weird?”
He lifted his head and stepped to the door to pull it open. How could he have ever thought he’d be able to keep something like this from Myra? She was smart as a whip. She could finish a cross word puzzle in ten minutes while he struggled to get even the first clue.
“Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here and you’ve already got a cold.” He lifted his hand to guide her inside but she brushed it away like a gnat.
“Don’t touch me.” She slipped by him and ripped the winter coat away from her body.
He just barely missed getting hit on the shin by one of the boots she kicked off. Wow! He’d never seen her this mad at him. His stomach slumped lower to the floor watching the whites rim the blue of her irises. She was scared too.
He held his hands before him and looked softly at her. “Stay here, Myra, while I check this out. We’ll talk afterwards, I promise.”
He slipped his winter boots off and ducked into the living room to get the iron fireplace poker. Better safe than sorry. But, it wouldn’t be a person... well, a physical
person anyway; he’d bet his life on that one.
Myra stood with her arms crossed over her chest near the door but she purposely kept her eyes from meeting his gaze.
He took the stairs two at a time, brandishing the poker like a sword before him. When he reached the top step, it was just as she’d said. The doors to the bathroom and their bedroom were open but the other two doors across the hallway were shut tight. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he felt a chill when he stepped forward to open the first bedroom door.
But what he saw made his eyes pop wide. His hand hung frozen in the air as he watched the knob turn all on its own, slowly, making a low, scraping sound. He pulled back and when the door whooshed open and banged hard against the wall behind it, he almost jumped out of his skin
Myra’s voice broke the silence. “Barry? What’s happening?”
Her footsteps pounded up the stairs and he spun around to face her. “Stay there!”
He stepped into the room, and his breath formed a white vapour. The room was way too cold. They’d closed it off to save heat but this chill was like stepping into the vegetable room at Costco.
His knees started knocking as he looked around the room. The thought of going past the bed and inspecting the closet made his skin crawl. Somehow, he knew in his gut that the room was like a black hole in space, threatening to suck the life-force and energy from his body. He shouldn’t be in there!
‘Don’t be afraid. You are stronger.’ Stella’s calm voice in his head caught him by surprise.
His eyes darted back and forth around the room. Stronger than what? He took a deep breath and feeling just slightly more confident, he inched forward.
His mouth fell open seeing the flickering band of light under the closet door. “What the...?”
He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, flashing erratically, the sparks of light losing the battle with darkness as it burned out.
He reached to pull the chain attached to the fixture, extinguishing the last glimmer. Every muscle in his body was alert and energized, his movements stiff when he shut the closet door. He turned and gasped, coming to a complete stop.
A shimmering shape hovered next to the window. He blinked a couple times to clear his eyes, making sure the afterimage of the light wasn’t playing tricks with his vision.
The image was of a young woman in a dark dress with white lace at the cuffs of her sleeves. Her eyes were blue white and her face pale and ethereal. She nodded to him and without a word, lifted a translucent hand The lightness of her being turned shades of pink and blue and then faded from sight.
Like the day that Stella had died—was this the woman in the window he’d seen? Yeah, it had been this window!
Stella’s voice was in his head again. ‘Be at peace, Barry. Evelyn’s with us as well.’
“Who the hell is Evelyn?” his voice came out in a soft whisper. But the sense of Stella had evaporated.
“Barry! What’s going on?” This time, Myra’s voice was urgent.
He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Myra had taken a few steps higher, gripping the handrail with ivory knuckles.
He walked over to the second bedroom, not expecting to see much of anything. Whatever force had caused the light to turn on and the image of the woman to appear was gone now. He strode into the room and looked around, his heartbeat slowing to a more normal rhythm.
What had that been in the first bedroom? The woman had been so clear that she looked like a living person for a moment, just like the day that Stella had died. It had been shocking but he hadn’t felt fear. If a person saw a ghost, shouldn’t they feel scared out of their wits? It was weird but that was all. Evelyn. Hmm.
“There’s nothing here, Myra. Let’s go downstairs.” He forced an easy confidence in his voice that he wasn’t feeling. This time when he reached to place his arm around her shoulders, she didn’t shrug him off.
“This is a bad joke, Barry. It’s like the scary stories kids used to tell about people having to spend a night in a haunted house to get a pot of money. Except, for us, it’s a year. What kind of crazy, sadistic woman does that to a friend? Stella was your friend, right?”
He took a deep breath following her into the kitchen. “She and I are very much alike, Myra.” He slipped his coat off and hung it over the back of a chair. He tried to gauge her face as she poured more of the tea mixture into a mug and nuked it. But she was silent, her jaw set tight.
“You know how sometimes, I know things are going to happen before they do, how I can tell if someone’s sick or lying. Kind of a sixth sense sort of thing. I try not to think about it, but it’s there.” He took a seat at the table and folded his hands together on the table, his eyes never leaving Myra.
“You mean your ‘touch’.” When he nodded, her gaze shifted to meet his for a moment before taking the mug and carrying it over to join him at the table. “Yeah, sure. Like when you insisted we cancel the hotel on our honeymoon and there was that horrible fire. Yeah, I know. You try to fight it but every now and then, it just comes out. Usually it’s true.” There was still no sign of warmth in her voice.
“We never really talked about it.”
“Of course not! That aspect of you always weirded me out, Barry.” She pointed a finger at him. “You told me that this ‘touch’ of yours did more harm than good when you were a kid, right? You’re the one who didn’t want to discuss it, and that was fine by me.”
“Yeah... when I was in the fourth grade, it got really strong, and I showed off at school and got my ass kicked for it.” He sighed. “So when I had the vision of my Mom getting into a car wreck, I didn’t say anything.”
“What are you talking about? A vision of your Mom?”
“The touch had always been with me when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “Like I knew what was wrapped up under the tree at Christmas.”
“You still know that?”
He nodded.
“What a freaking waste of time and effort wrapping your Christmas presents!”
He shrugged off her attempt at humor. “Anyway, it got really strong with me when I was nine. I was able to see into the heads of the kids at school. And the teachers, too.” He took a breath. “And the more I used it, the better I got at it.” He chuckled. “I was nailing tests and quizzes like there was no tomorrow.” A cloud went over his face. “But I took it too far, and started telling some of the kids stuff they really didn’t want to hear.”
“Like what?”
“Just stupid kid stuff— Jane Charmichal enjoyed teasing her sister’s cat, Joey Waco’s grandmother really didn’t like him...” his voice faded. “And then I told Phil Walsh that he liked guys instead of girls...”
“Oops.”
“You’re not kidding. He, Joey Waco and some other kids ganged up on me after school.” He ran his finger down the side of his nose. “That’s when the schnoz got busted, them teaching me a lesson.”
She patted his hand. “It gives your face character. Like a Roman gladiator.”
“Yeah...” his eyes teared up. “So two days later I had a vision of my Mom getting into a car wreck...” he looked down. “And that time I didn’t say anything. I wuss’ed out ‘cause I didn’t wanna get in trouble!”
“Barry!” When his head shot up, she said, “You were nine years old and you had just been beaten! Savagely beaten! You had your face kicked in because of these visions! Of course you’d keep quiet!”
“And she died!”
Myra stood and put her arms around him, cradling his head to her bosom. “Barry... Barry... maybe it was her time...” She held him as his shoulders heaved and he sobbed out old grief. “It was not your fault...” she repeated softly.
****
When he collected himself, Myra poured him a cup of tea and sat across from him at the table.
“So what are we doing here, Barry? Why did Stella leave you this house? What’s really going on?”
He lo
oked around the kitchen and felt the tension in the back of his neck fade. Whatever energy field was in this room, it was positive. Everyone who came into the kitchen felt lighter, more relaxed. It was the best place to have this conversation with Myra, that was for sure.
He took a deep breath. “Stella saw the touch in me. She has it too.”
“Had it, you mean.”
He made a sharp smile. “Not exactly.” Before Myra could go down that road, he hurried on. “This house sits on energy fields.” He nodded towards the room he had set up as an office. “All of Stella’s books and papers? They all relate to different interpretations of that idea.” He made a wry look. “The one she likes the best is where they’re called ‘Ley Lines’.
Myra gave a short nod. “Yeah, there’s a book about that you’ve been poring over.”
He nodded.
“So what are they?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Stella told me that the longer we live here, the clearer it will become.”
“Barry, you got to come up with something better than that! It’s not just about you, or me now!”
He held up a hand. “I know, I know! Let me tell you what I know, and I’ll tell you what I think, okay?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded at him to go on.
“Okay. The best I can figure out, is these lines are positive and negative in nature, and they circle and surround the earth. Things go along pretty much okay when they’re in harmony... but... there’s a couple of things.”
“Wait, wait. What do you mean positive and negative.”
He shot her a look. “Light. Dark. Love. Hate. Good... and evil. Those are the best approximations we can have as humans.” He held his hands out, palms down and laid the edges next to each other. “Think if them like tectonic plates along an earthquake fault line. Where the edges of my hands touch, that’s the fault line. As long as the plates are in balance, no problem. But...” He tilted one hand and the other slid under it, causing them to go askew. “If one gains more power it can disrupt the other, and disrupt that balance on the planet.”
The Ghosts of Centre Street: A Haunting of Kingston (The Hauntings of Kingston Book 3) Page 5