by fox, angie
To the left, on a small rise, I spotted a large Victorian that had probably been quite grand at one time. A wide sitting porch gave way to three stories, complete with a slate roof. The tiles had cracked in places and the bronze embellishments bled green.
"It's nice," I said as we bumped over the unfinished road. "Once you spruce it up and mow the lawn and—"
"Get rid of the ghosts," Frankie finished.
"Only the troublemakers," I said. Then I realized that's exactly who he would be friends with. "We're not going to hurt anybody," I told him. Not unless we were forced to defend ourselves. And even then, I didn't know what I could do to hurt a ghost.
It bothered me all the same, although I had no idea what to do about it. And as we drew closer to the carriage house, I realized Ellis had beaten us here.
He walked around the side of the building and held up a hand in greeting. A peace offering, perhaps. Although I couldn't imagine how I'd get that lucky.
I didn't see Ellis's car, so I went ahead and made a spot for myself out front on a patch of crumbling pavement that could very well have been a parking lot at one time.
The sun had begun to sink lower onto the horizon, casting blinding rays of light between the shadows of the century-old buildings.
"It's gorgeous," I called out to him. And I meant it.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and appeared almost pleased. "There's a lot of work to do," he said as I walked up to him.
True. It wasn't only landscaping. The brickwork crumbed at the edges and spider webs clung to the window corners. Overgrown bushes flanked the entry doors and even the matching iron carriage lights had seen better days.
Ellis glanced out over the property. "There are nine buildings total, including the carriage house." He reached down for the door handle. "This one is the most convenient to the road, and needs the least amount of work, so we're starting here. He caught himself and corrected. "I'm starting here."
That's right. He'd lost his business partner. I could see his uncle attacking this place head-on. Ellis, too. Although it had to be harder to do it alone. I hesitated. "I don't want to insult you, but it looks a little…forlorn."
He gave a small smile. "The inside is almost done. Speaking of work, you're an hour early."
"I wanted to see the property before dark," I told him. "Have you been here long?" He didn't look like he'd run into any angry spirits.
"I had to unload some pavers out back," he said. "The rear porch is starting to sink." Ellis stood by the entrance doors, looking remarkably casual about hanging out in front of a haunted building. "Hey, Harry, come on over and meet someone," Ellis called as a bearded man emerged from the side of the carriage house. He wore blue jeans and a sleeveless work shirt, and he scowled when he saw us.
Ellis didn't appear to notice. "This is Harry," he said to me, "he's been helping me out." Then, quietly, he added, "Don't tell him your last name or what you're doing for me."
What a sweetheart.
But I didn't have to worry about spilling the beans to the handyman, because Harry hunched his shoulders, kept his head down, and pretended he didn't even notice us.
"He's not great with people," Ellis said, not at all bothered. "Maybe you can meet him later when he's feeling more sociable."
And maybe I'd get the job done tonight and never come back.
Ellis opened the carriage house door for me. "Come on in."
I made my way past the skeleton of a rusted-out brewery wagon and climbed the stairs, glancing back for Frankie as I did. He'd disappeared somewhere between the car and the carriage house. I knew he had to be close. Still, I jumped when I heard his voice in my ear. "Don't go inside."
He had to be kidding. That's why we were here. I stiffened. "What do you see?" I murmured. "Show me."
Ellis eyed me. "I don't see anything."
"Great," I said, pasting on a smile.
Frankie, on the other hand, remained mum. The jerk.
I looked from the darkened windows to the man in front of the age-old doors.
Was it me, or did the air seem chillier as I drew closer?
Inside was pitch black. A slight breeze ruffled the hair at my shoulders, stirring up the dry leaves on the trees in the woods beyond. My stomach twisted.
Good sense screamed at me to heed Frankie's warning, but I couldn't stand out on the front porch forever. The ghost hadn't said another word. I didn't even know where he'd gone. And I was just as blind as Ellis without him.
"What's the matter?" Ellis at least had the grace to look concerned. "Are you picking up on something already?"
I put on a brave act. "No. Let's go in." I couldn't find out what haunted this place if I didn't venture inside. Still, I half expected a lecture from Frankie as I passed the flickering carriage lights and entered the musty smelling relic.
Modern lantern-style light fixtures flickered to life overhead. They hung from the newly constructed, exposed rafters above. The smell of fresh lumber mixed with century-old brick and woodwork.
I blew out a breath. It all appeared so…normal. For now, at least. I wondered what exactly I didn't see. It could be anything. Ghostly furniture, scraggly black creatures slinking in the corners…or worse. I wanted to stay within a quick dash of the exit, so I waved Ellis over to the carved wooden bar near the doors. It had to be at least a hundred years old, definitely worth a closer look.
"Is this original?" I asked.
Ellis ran a hand over its polished surface. "The South Town gang installed it in the days they used to run liquor from this place."
"That's bold," I said.
Ellis shrugged. "So were they."
I wondered how many of them were still around. And just where Frankie had gone.
Far above, gray light filtered in from the tall second story windows.
"We took out the second floor. The boards rotted too much to be safe." His voice sounded hollow as we moved farther back into the dim space. The windows back here, boarded from the outside, glowed with light around the edges. "After automobiles took over, the family opened a distillery in the carriage house building. There's a water wheel out back, from when they mashed grain for whiskey, so I'm going to call this place The Rumor Mill. The bar here is more of a waiting area. It'll have a restaurant in the main part."
Racks upon racks of old whiskey barrels lined the wall to my right with numbers painted on the sides and a thick cork pounded into the top of each one. It felt like we'd entered another era. "Come on," Ellis said, venturing deeper into the building. "I'll show you the rest."
I didn't want to follow him into the dark beyond, but I wasn't about to stand around by myself. I rushed through the shadows to catch up.
"You know where you're going?" I asked. We'd left the lights behind, and he hadn't turned on any more.
"No worries," he said, as if he didn't hear every echo of his boots on the stark concrete floor. I stepped on something soft and I winced.
And where the heck was Frankie? I had his urn. He couldn't leave me. Unless he'd gone back into the ether somewhere.
Apparently gangsters didn't understand teamwork.
I searched for him, but all I could see was pale dusk fading from dirty windows. It would be dark soon.
Ellis plugged in a set of construction lights. They illuminated a large space at the back. Arched doorways opened up on the left. Horse stables no doubt. To the right of the open area, I saw a set of black double doors. He cleared his throat. "The…ghost got the lights right here. They were heavy iron. It tore them apart."
I shuddered despite myself. I was in over my head here.
Ellis shoved his hands into his pockets. "Harry, the guy you almost met, is working with me on replacing the fixtures and repairing the ripped out wiring."
Something about that man bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Is he from around here?" I thought I knew most everyone in town.
"He is now," Ellis said, directing me toward the double doors on our right. "He'
s been a big help since my uncle died."
"Who are his parents?" I pressed, thinking I had to know them.
Ellis shrugged. "I don't think he's on the Sugartown social radar. Harry lives at the Good Samaritan House."
"That's the one near First Presbyterian." I'd been there with my mom's church group. Her friend Georgia helped run it. They gave people a place to stay while they found work and tried to get on their feet.
"The guy's good with a hammer and saw," Ellis said. "Getting better every day." He opened the doors and reached for a plug. "Here's the kitchen."
The lights were broken in here as well. Of course. Ellis had replaced them with temporaries. The glow of industrial construction lights revealed a modern kitchen with stainless steel everything. A refrigerator, two stoves, and a grill lined the back wall. The remains of a stainless steel serving station stood in front of it. The top had been ripped off, the metal torn from the bolts. I looked closer and saw a series of large dents in the countertop, as if a giant had skipped a boulder straight down the serving line.
I sucked in a breath. "I can't imagine what did that." I pushed against a piece of the metal heating unit on the top, torn almost completely in half. "You saw this happen on the video?"
Ellis watched me, grim. "Ripped apart by an unseen force," he said, as if he couldn't quite believe it. I almost didn't believe it myself. Something like that could easily kill a person. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's completely ruined. I can sell it for scrap, or pay to have it hauled off. But if I replace it with a new one, is it going to happen again?"
Most likely, yes.
There was something really wrong about this. Whatever did this wasn't just destructive. It was angry.
"Do you want to see the deep freeze?" Ellis asked.
I wanted to leave and never come back. "Yes, of course," I said. I'd agreed to this. It was my job. We walked to a small hallway near the back. The door of the freezer hung from one hinge, crushed like a tin can.
Shadows bathed the end of the hall. Behind them, the back windows gave up feeble light, glowing gray with dusk. "Whatever it was also smashed the shelves," Ellis said, shining a flashlight over the inside. I saw the hooks where the racks had been bolted in. Otherwise, it was empty as a tomb.
Frankie was right. It would take a lot of energy to do that kind of damage.
I moved back out into the kitchen. Ellis adjusted one of the construction bulbs and shone it down like a spotlight onto the ruined serving station.
"Feel free to explore, get used to the place," Ellis said, moving to clean up a few more things.
"Right," I said, ducking back out into the hall. If I could find my spirit buddy.
The windows reflected the approach of night and I fought off a shiver. This place creeped me out on its own. And Frankie had yet to show me what truly lurked in the darkness.
The gangster shimmered into view next to me. At last.
"Where in heck have you been?" I demanded.
"I told you to stay outside," he shot back.
"How can I do that when I need to find the ghost that caused damage inside?"
His forehead shone with sweat. I didn't even know ghosts could perspire. My gaze traveled to the bloody circle between his eyes.
He drew his Panama hat out of thin air and yanked it down over his wound. "I was trying to smooth the way," he grit out. "This is South Town turf and folks can get territorial. As you saw last night," he added. "I figured maybe I could warn them that I was about to show you some stuff. Maybe we could be polite."
I liked that. "And?"
He shifted uncomfortably, digging his hands into his pockets. "They don't want you here."
That didn't help. But we were still figuring out the rules. No doubt they appreciated his attempt. These were southern spirits after all. "Did you happen to meet the vandal ghosts?" I looked around. "Are they here now?"
"Yeah, because they're wearing nametags that say, 'I bust things.' Think before you talk."
"You think this is easy for me?" I didn't like to ask for help with anything, and he was making it so difficult to work together on this. I understood he had issues beyond what we were facing right now, but that didn't give him the right to be a pill. "You left me, so I made an executive decision to walk in the door. You're not the only one having a hard day." My life hadn't exactly been a patch of roses since I'd dumped out his urn. "And anyway, I don't like your tone."
"I don't like you ignoring me."
Ellis's voice broke through the darkness. "Who are you talking to?"
My heart seized up. "Nobody."
"See?" Frankie said, next to me. "You just called me a nobody."
I ignored him.
I stepped back out into the kitchen and found Ellis watching me as if I were about to reveal a ghost to him, or at least continue the conversation.
His gaze flicked to the darkness behind me. "I was hoping to stay longer, but I got a call when you were out in the hall," he said, guilt coloring his tone. "We're short two officers tonight. I have to go in to work."
For heaven's sake. "You're going to leave me in a haunted building, by myself?" That wasn't part of the deal. Or maybe it was. We hadn't specifically agreed he'd be staying with me. I didn't like the idea of being in this place alone.
"It's not how I would have planned it, either," he said, cringing, but at the same time, standing his ground. "But you did it last night, right?"
"I admit nothing," I reminded him. Besides, this place felt much darker. And I hadn't even seen anything yet.
He glanced up to the rafters above. "I've installed security cameras there and there," he said, pointing to a pair of lenses sticking out like large bug eyes. As if that would keep me safe. "We don't even know if anything will happen tonight."
"Ha." According to Frankie, these spirits already knew I was here, and they didn't like it. "So what if they have three guys out tonight instead of two? Can't you take off work until we figure this out?"
He huffed out a breath. "Sure. I'll explain to the chief that my carriage house is haunted and I have to babysit my little brother's ex-fiancé while she attempts an exorcism." He dug around in his pocket for a business card, then turned it over and wrote a number on the back. "Call me if you need me and I'll be right over."
After a ghost removed my intestines with a fork. "This doesn't feel right."
He drew the contract out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. "We can call it off. I understand." He let out a sigh. "Some things just aren't worth the money."
Yes, but we were talking about the funds I needed to save my house. "Put that contract away, Ellis Wydell. I said I'd do it," I told him.
"Thank you, Verity," he said simply.
I didn't want to talk about it. "Just…go."
He gave me a long look. "I get off at 6:00 a.m. I'll be back then," he said.
I watched him fade into the shadows until I could only hear the sound of his boots on the hard floors. The door opened with a creak, and closed behind him with a bang that echoed throughout the cavernous space.
Then I heard his car start up. Rocks crunched under his tires as he drove away.
Oh my God. "I'm alone," I whispered to myself.
"You wish," Frankie replied.
I turned to him, my palms sweaty and my knees weak. "Don't joke." This was bad enough. I knew what had to happen next, even though the last thing I wanted to do was open my eyes to what was really going on around here. What we lived with now, in this reality, gave me enough of the creeps.
Frankie watched me, as if he expected me to freak out.
"Stop it," I muttered.
He rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know." I'd made the deal with Ellis. I'd asked Frankie to do this. I screwed up my courage and willed everything to be okay, or at least not too terrifyingly awful. "Show me what I need to see."
"Remember," he said, "you asked for it."
A low rumble sounded throughout the room. Silver
mist, like steam, settled over us until I could see rusted iron trusses supporting the remains of large wooden brew kettles along the side wall. Barrels littered the floor, some broken open. Where I'd expected to see the old building in its glory days, instead I saw ruins.
"Holy moly. It looks even worse than before." I turned in a circle. My foot caught a discarded bottle and sent it into a wobbly spin. "Why does it appear this way?"
"This is how the strongest spirit sees it," he said quietly.
A hollow wail echoed from below the floor. I shivered, not missing the irony and frankly not caring as I drew closer to Frankie.
I felt the anger in the room, the desperation, as if it were a living thing.
"Is it the South Town Gang?" I asked.
Frankie pursed his lips. "No. They're being held down, same as a lot of other ghosts. You get this thing, the South Town boys are back."
"Great." As soon as I got rid of this vandal ghost, I'd be long gone. The South Town boys were Ellis's problem.
My arms glowed with the ethereal grey light, as if I were part of the vision.
"The good news is there's only one sick bastard creating this." Frankie said. "Concentrate hard and you might be able to tell."
I realized he was trying to instruct me, to help me understand. And I did feel it, low in my gut—a single shot of welling despair and pain.
"Can it hurt me?" I whispered.
"Yes," he said, his voice low in my ear.
Right. It took apart a serving station. It could take apart me.
I didn't know how I was going to reason with it, to convince it to leave, not when every cell in my body vibrated with the spirit's anger. I had to get a grip. I rubbed my hands on my dress, drying my palms, screwing up my courage.
There was something bad in here. We both knew it. And we couldn't solve anything until I confronted it face-to-face.
"Please come out," I said, my voice a little uneven. "I need to speak with you."