Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1)

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Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1) Page 33

by Dorey, Michelle


  “Oh.”

  “I’m not,” and she pointed at me, “nor are you, in a position to be a judge of this man’s soul. I have a calling to protect The Veil.”

  “I understand GM; this is bigger than Jarrod.”

  The picture of a weasely, thinly built man, his beard rough and unkempt, with long stringy hair flashed in my mind. I gazed at GM and she nodded. That was the guy we were trying to help?

  “Everyone needs help, Keira. Even Jarrod. But it’s The Veil we must defend.”

  TWENTY ONE

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, I pulled into Gwen’s driveway, parking behind her truck. The rain had really picked up; by the time I got to her front porch I was soaked. I knocked on the door and waited.

  Nobody answered, so I knocked again, louder. After the third time, her dad pulled it open.

  “Keira! What a pleasant surprise.” Leaning on his walker, he stepped aside and bade me to come in. As he closed the door, he looked down the hallway and back at me, his smile faltering.

  “Were you at the door long?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I had to knock three times. It’s no big deal, I mean with the storm—”

  He cut me off. “A couple of minutes ago, Buster jumped up, started whining like crazy and took off out the back door of the house.” Devon stared at me like I was a specimen. “I don’t know how he managed to do it, but he opened the latch on the screen door with his snout and took off out to the backyard. He’s standing against the back fence and won’t come in. I came back in to get Gwen when I heard you knocking.” He looked back again toward the rear of the house, let out a small sigh and turned back to me. “He’s never done that before; he always knew when someone pulled into the driveway and would start barking at the front door.” He held my eyes.

  “Yeah... that is weird, isn’t it?” I said weakly.

  “Buster’s afraid of you.”

  I bit my lower lip. “I know,” I mumbled.

  “I mean, really afraid of you.”

  I looked down at the floor. “Yeah.” I raised my eyes. “Dogs never liked me, but lately it’s gotten worse.” I shrugged. “Maybe I should use a different shampoo or something?” I tried to smile at my totally lame excuse and failed.

  Devon looked toward the back of the house again. “Well, he’ll come in when he’s ready, I guess,” he said. “He’ll be soaking wet, but it’s not cold out and that’s where he wants to be... for now.” He turned back to me. “You left your phone in the bathroom.”

  “Thanks. Can I talk to Gwen?”

  His head turned and he yelled. “Hey Gwen! Keira’s here for her phone!”

  Grinning, she came downstairs, holding my cell phone. “I was going to drive over to your place with this when the rain stopped.”

  I shoved it into my pocket. “Instead of coming for lunch, how would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night? GM and Lawrence asked if you’d join us for dinner.”

  She looked over at her father. His hand arced in the air and he turned. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll throw a pizza in the oven and catch the Jays game.”

  Gwen turned back to me. “What time? I’d love to! Dinner beats lunch, any old day.” She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Want a beer?”

  There was a guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach. She didn’t know she was interviewing for Lawrence’s job. How much could I actually tell her? “Just a Coke.” I hung my jacket up and toed my sneakers before following her to the kitchen.

  As I passed by the living room, where Gwen’s dad was now getting settled in his usual chair, I glanced in the corner where I’d seen her mother the day before. But there was no sign of her.

  I took a seat at the table and waited for Gwen to finish pouring a large bottle of Coke into two glasses. “So... am I going to meet those ghosts? Molly and Sam?”

  She got right to it. “No... they’re gone.”

  She made a small frown. “That’s pretty convenient. You tell me about ghosts in that place, and just before I come over, they’ve gone.”

  I snorted, thinking of the episode with Jarrod. Convenient wasn’t the word I was thinking of. “Sorry to disappoint you.” I pointed my chin at her. “What would you ever do if you actually saw one?”

  She leaned forward and her eyes became wide. “Are you kidding me? That would be the most awesome thing.” Her smile faded. “I wish sometimes, I could see my mother.”

  It was the perfect opening for me. My voice lowered, despite the din of the TV in the background. “What would you say if I told you I saw your mother here yesterday?” I watched her closely. But her eyes weren’t shocked, just a little sad.

  She was silent for a few beats before she spoke, “If it wasn’t for what happened yesterday beside the pool when you read my mind or something, I wouldn’t believe you... but, I do. I’ve felt her presence but I’ve never actually seen her. I envy you that ability.”

  I blew softly from puffed-out cheeks, my eyes on the glass in front of me. “It’s only happened since I’ve been with my grandmother. She’s sensitive about these things and it seems I’ve inherited it. And her house... if anything supernatural was going to happen, believe me that house would bring it out.” I took a sip of the pop. “You said so yourself, that house has mystical properties.”

  She nodded and sat down opposite me. “Yeah, it does. I don’t know about your grandmother, but that rose blooming in the dead of winter is something off the wall, that’s for sure.” The flecks of her eyes were green in spots, rimmed by long dark eyelashes, devoid of any makeup. With the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, she was the poster child for the girl next door.

  I shook my head. “Ghosts in a bedroom? Flowers blooming in January? That doesn’t freak you out?” If anyone had told me this a few weeks ago, I would have been freaked out. Now, it was just another day at GM’s curiosity house.

  She slapped the table lightly with her hand. “Are you kidding me? That would be fascinating!”

  “More fascinated than scared? This stuff scares people, Gwen.”

  “Not me.” She chuckled. “Maybe I’m too stupid to be scared.”

  “Yeah, right. I think too curious.”

  She eyed me. “I think there’s something going on with you and your grandmother and I’d like to find out more.”

  I smiled, sipping my drink. That was one hurdle crossed. The interest and lack of fear was one thing but... what about her father? If I did take this up, and take over for GM, would Gwen be free to come with me?

  God! Look at me! I was already planning a career with this!

  More and more, my thoughts were turning to accepting the mantle from GM. Had I already made up my mind?

  TWENTY TWO

  I WAS WAITING FOR GWEN in the parlor when the doorbell rang. I didn’t want to take the chance that Lawrence would greet her stiffly, so I called to the back of the house, “I got it!” before he could appear.

  I swung the heavy oak door open and my jaw dropped.

  Gwen stood there in heels and makeup. Her girl-next-door natural look was elevated to a downright charming level. Even her hair was loose, the dark mane flowing over the shoulders of a light-lime-green linen dress which ended a couple of inches above her knee.

  She noticed my eyes boggling and did a quick twirl. “I hope I didn’t overdo it. You did say your grandmother likes to gussy up for dinner.”

  “You nailed it, don’t worry.” Even so, I felt a little shabby in my jean skirt and top.

  Stepping into the entrance hall, she gave her head a small shake. “I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up to go to someone’s house for dinner.” She looked over to me. “Dates at restaurants? Sure. Weddings and such? Absolutely. But doing this to visit with my neighbors? That’s a new one.”

  I nodded as I shut the door behind her. “It’s been dressing for dinner every night since I arrived.” I glanced back toward where the living room was. “And I’ll bet GM has been doing it all along. Pretty Old School, huh?” />
  She made a small shrug. “I don’t know... I think it’s kind of elegant. Making a thing out of sharing a meal every night... it’s kind of cool, don’t you think?”

  I scoffed. “You do it every night, and we’ll see.”

  She laughed lightly. “You might have a point, but I’d sure love to find out.”

  “I don’t know, Gwen; I think those genteel times are kind of gone with the wind.”

  Before she could reply, Lawrence appeared from the living room archway. “Gwen, isn’t it? It’s nice to meet you instead of just seeing you on your route.” He took her hand and even did a slight bow as he smiled at her. “I’m Lawrence Brady, Mrs. York’s assistant.”

  “How do you do,” she replied. “It’s nice of you and Mrs. York to invite me. I’ve always admired this house and wondered what it would be like inside. I never imagined I’d be invited here for dinner.”

  His hand extended pointing the way to the living room. “This way, please. Mrs. York is in the living room.”

  I led the way to where GM was seated on the large sofa. We crossed over to her and I made introductions.

  “Thank you for asking me to dinner, Mrs. York. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  Taking in Gwen’s outfit, GM smiled and nodded. “It’s nice to meet Keira’s friend, even though we’ve obviously seen you around. Would you care for a drink? Lawrence makes a mean gimlet.”

  Gwen looked nervous as she answered, “Do you have beer? I’m afraid I’m not much of a liquor fan. I developed a taste for beer in university and now that’s all I drink.”

  At GM’s sharp jerk of her head backwards, Gwen spoke again, her words tumbling all over themselves. “I mean, that’s not all I drink. I drink water and pop and well—”

  GM laughed lightly. “I know what you meant, dear.” She turned to Lawrence. “We have beer in the fridge, don’t we?”

  “Yes, of course.” He walked out of the room.

  GM patted the seat on the sofa beside her. “Please sit down, Gwen,” She held her glass out to me. “Would you mind topping me up, dear?” As I poured a drink for myself and GM, she continued, “Keira tells me you studied to be a physicist?”

  “Yes. I was doing graduate work when my dad became ill. To be honest, I actually like what I’m doing now. My evenings and weekends are my own, with no papers to write or any lab work. I mean, aside from taking care of Dad.”

  “Your father is ill?”

  Handing GM her fresh drink, I sat in the armchair beside them. I was positive GM knew everything about Gwen’s dad, and watched the interplay between them.

  Gwen nodded. “Yes. He’s had MS for years, but when my mother passed away three years ago he had a terrible episode. He was hospitalized for a month. When he was released, I had already suspended my studies and had gotten on full time with the post office.”

  “Oh my poor dear.” GM reached out and stroked Gwen’s shoulder. She turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “How sad, Keira,” she said aloud. ‘This could be a problem for you dear’ echoed in my head.

  “He didn’t seem too ill when I saw him,” I said.

  “I know,” said Gwen. “The attacks—they call them relapses—come out of nowhere. Sometimes he just gets worn down, but he’s collapsed a couple of times.”

  Lawrence came in and passed her a pilsner glass filled with beer. She took it and took a deep sip while he took a seat.

  “That must be hard on you, dear. When I was your age, I liked to travel... see the world. But I suppose, for you...” GM’s voice trailed off but she watched Gwen closely.

  Gwen sat primly on the sofa, her long legs folded together to the side. “Oh, I manage to get away every now and then. Just last year I went to the States on a sightseeing tour of Civil War mansions. My brother Sean stays with Dad.”

  I glanced at Lawrence and GM. Gwen wasn’t as tied to her routine as they’d thought. “Old houses? You would pass up the beach to see a bunch of old houses?”

  Gwen snorted. “Seen one beach, you’ve seen ‘em all as far as I’m concerned.” She looked around the living room. “Older homes have… character.” She looked to GM and continued. “Like this house. It’s almost as big as some of the plantation homes I visited, you know. I’ll bet there are stories that these walls could tell us if they could speak.”

  The two of them gazed at each other silently for a moment. Finally, GM smiled sweetly. “What sort of stories do you suppose, dear?”

  Gwen glanced over to me and back at GM before speaking. “Well, for one thing, did you know its history when you bought it, Mrs. York?” Without waiting for an answer she continued, “Did you know it once harbored a rumrunner? The guy’s body was found in the cellar. The police never knew if his death was suicide or if he was murdered.”

  GM’s smile dropped like a stone when she looked across at Gwen. “I’ve come to know of that. You are a student of local history, then? I know the house has a reputation for being a bit... odd.”

  “This house is haunted isn’t it, Mrs. York?”

  I saw Lawrence stiffen. GM didn’t bat an eye. “What an interesting question.”

  “You didn’t answer it, ma’am.” Whoaaa… Gwen wasn’t backing off a whit.

  “No, I didn’t.” GM smiled sweetly again. “The answer is yes.”

  ***

  Her reply hung in the air for a moment.

  Gwen tilted her head and nodded slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. York. I appreciate your honesty.” She looked over to me and back at GM. “Keira tells me it’s not as haunted as it had been.”

  GM nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Molly and Sam have moved on.” She leaned her head in to Gwen slightly. “The ironic part is that the man you just described who died here is still around.”

  “Really?” Gwen’s eyes lit up and she looked around the room. “Right now? He’s here? Can you see him?” She put her hand on GM’s forearm. “Could I see him?”

  GM’s mouth turned downward. “No, dear, he’s not present at this time.”

  “How do you get him to show up? Could we use one of those Ouija boards or something to get him to show up?”

  GM’s eyes flashed. “Absolutely not! That is a dangerous instrument!”

  “Whoa… take it easy, GM, she’s just asking a question,” I said.

  GM huffed a sigh. “Excuse me for my outburst, Gwen.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “As far as the spirit that’s still here, and encountering him… even if he was here right now, you wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.” She gestured toward me. “Myself and my granddaughter have that gift, yes; but—”

  Lawrence cut her off. “But it’s a rare gift, Gwen. I’ve never seen any of the spirits in all the years I’ve been with Mrs. York.” He gave a mild laugh. “I’ve seen their handiwork, but I’ve never seen them.”

  “Handiwork?”

  He nodded. “If they get upset, they are able to move things.”

  “Like in the movies? Things flying around? Stuff like that?”

 

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