Ghost Huntress 5 - The Discovery

by Gibson, Marley

  I jerk out of the image, and Patrick holds me to him. He felt it too. My senses tell me there's something very dark here. Darker than we've ever dealt with. It may be voodoo or black magic or just a spirit that's confused, hurt, and angry. But it must be revealed and cleansed.

  "Help us," I plead in a whisper.

  Mr. Pfeiffer's lip quivers. His voice drops to a whisper. "I-I-I can't get involved."

  Celia puts her hands on her hips and nods to me.

  I hold my head high. "Well, Mr. Pfeiffer, we are getting involved. Tomorrow night, we're bringing our equipment and we're doing an investigation."

  He sees that I'm not messing around.

  "I'll leave the key under the mat," he says finally. "There's one stipulation."

  "Name it," Celia says.

  "You can't reveal your findings to the public."

  "Agreed," Becca says on our behalf.

  This doll has an attachment, and it's pissed. This has to be solved immediately.

  "We have to do this for everyone who's ever been hurt by Xander. We have to do this for Farah."

  Chapter Fifteen

  AROUND NINE THIRTY SATURDAY MORNING, I stretch like one of my kitty cats and reach for my BlackBerry on the nightstand. The bleep-bleep-bleep of incoming text messages has woken me from a sound snooze. I smile when I read them:

  > Morning baby

  > Last nite wuz fun. Just the 2 of us. 2nite will b diff

  Patrick and I had just curled up together on the couch at Father Mass's and watched Casablanca, which was exactly what we both needed to get our minds off the turmoil in town, to have some alone time, and to prepare for what we might face this evening. I run my thumbs over the small keypad to respond.

  > Hi u! I no. Last nite wuz a blast.

  > Worried @ 2nite

  > Don't b. I've dealt w/worse

  > u don't know that

  > we never no what we're up against

  > i'll b w/u the whole time

  > going 2 ask Loreen and Mass 2 b there

  > coming over?

  > in a bit to Loreen's store

  > i'll grab a shower & meet u there

  > sounds good 2 me

  > c u then

  I let out a majorly contented sigh and then hop out of bed. After I take a quick shower, blow my hair into some semblance of a manageable style, and throw on jeans and a tank, I race through the kitchen—stopping long enough to fill the parentals in on where I'm off to—and then jump in the car and head over to Loreen's.

  As I arrive, Loreen is standing outside the shop, locking the door.

  "What's going on?" I ask.

  "There you are, Kendall," she calls. "We're meeting Mass and Patrick down at the café for some breakfast."

  The grumble at the bottom of my stomach tells me that it's most definitely interested in some food. "Sounds awesome."

  We get to the Radisson Café, where I see Father Mass and Patrick already have a booth for us. Loreen slides in next to her boyfriend and I do the same with mine.

  My eyes smile up at Patrick and he leans in for a kiss hello. In my peripherals, I see Loreen and Mass do the same thing. Momentarily, my psychic vision kicks in and I see Loreen and Mass together, kissing in a very public way, surrounded by people. I jump when the image leaves me as quickly as it came.

  "Everything okay?" Patrick asks.

  "Yeah, fine. Fine." I don't want to read anything into what I just saw, so I grab the small menu and drool over my meal of choice.

  "I'd like the smoked Gouda, ham, and spinach omelet, please," I say to the waitress. Patrick orders the lox, onion, and cream cheese omelet, while Loreen and Mass agree to split the Healthy Platter, which is anything but—three scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, three pancakes, and hash browns. "Do you need a defibrillator with that?"

  Loreen tosses a creamer at me and we laugh. Then, like that, we turn our attention to more serious matters.

  Patrick sips his coffee and then begins. "Thanks for meeting us, you guys. We've got a hell of a case we're dealing with tonight and we're going to need all the help we can get."

  Father Mass speaks to me. "Patrick's filled me in on what's been going on over at the historical society and how you think this Xander the Doll has been causing trouble for a lot of people." He scratches at his night's growth of beard and continues. "I must say that I'm not altogether convinced that a doll is the reason for car accidents, house fires, and motorcycle crashes, but then again, Kendall, I've experienced a lot with your group, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

  "Me too," Loreen says. "Besides, I've heard the tale of this doll and the sad ending of the slave nanny who made him. I believe she was lynched. My senses are telling me that you need to focus your energies on her history."

  "I have," I say. "Well, a little bit. She was rumored to be heavily involved in voodoo, and I'm just so afraid of even Googling information on that." Or my mother finding out that I was looking it up.

  "It's okay to research, Kendall," Patrick says firmly. "Knowledge is power."

  "Here y'all go," the waitress sings out as she balances our breakfast dishes up her left arm. She doles out the meals, refreshes the coffee, and leaves us to our conversation.

  I dig into my smoked Gouda omelet like I've never seen food before, letting the steaming egg and cheese warm my insides.

  "Father Mass?" I ask with my mouth impolitely full. "What do you know about voodoo? Do they, like, make you study other religions and stuff in seminary?"

  He nods as he's sipping his coffee and then sets the cup down. "I've studied practically every known religion in the world."

  "Tell us what you know."

  Father Mass puts his elbows on the table. "From what you've told me, the slave woman, Althea, was from the West Indies, or as you know it today, Haiti. So more than likely, she practiced Haitian vodoun, which is based on the merging of the practices and beliefs of West African people's Arawakan religion and the practices of Roman Catholic Christianity. See, all of these African slaves were brought to Haiti in the sixteenth century along with their traditional beliefs. However, they were forced to convert to the religion of their owners."

  "No freedom of religion back then," I quip.

  He continues. "Vodouisants believe in one Supreme Being, called Bon-Dye, but they also worship several lesser spirits that they call the loa." He gestures with his hands. "They're actually quite spiritual in their belief and had to work in a lot of the elements from Catholicism in order to hide their religion from their owners. The Bon-Dye is unreachable, so they use the loa as their way to speak to their Supreme Being. Now, the loa are related to the African gods they left behind and may be spirits of natural phenomena—wind, fire, water—or of their dead ancestors."

  "Yikes, it seems like a complicated religion." Me, I prefer the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Book of Common Prayer, a little hymn singing, and a whole lot of faith and prayer. But to each his own. Who am I to say who's right and who's wrong?

  "Where do things like voodoo dolls come into play?" Patrick asks. "I mean, is it possible that Xander the Doll is a voodoo doll that was charmed in some way by Althea?"

  "Loreen and I have talked about this," Father Mass says. "In my studies, I've read that the loa have the power to make their presence known and can temporarily displace the astral body of a living person and occupy his or her physical body; effectively, a possession by the loa. Priests and priestesses preside over ceremonies of this nature."

  Loreen takes over. "My theory is that Althea, a manbo, or priestess, conducted a ceremony of some sort that possessed Xander the Doll. That's why your friends who disrespected him have had bad things happen to them."

  "I don't know about that, Loreen," Father Mass says. "It's not in my nature to believe in gods other than my own, but I do believe in evil entities out there."

  "As do I," she says. She adds, "Vodoun, as Mass has explained, is a very devout religion. It's not the Satan worshiping portrayed in movies. A lot of the c
eremonies are about protection of their family and loved ones."

  "Xander the Doll hasn't been protecting anyone," I say through gritted teeth.

  "That's just it," Loreen says. "He may be protecting someone and we just don't know it. There may be more to it than you know. If there's a way to connect with the spirit of this slave woman..."

  "Do we know where she's buried?" Patrick asks.

  I shake my head.

  "I guess we start with the house, then," he tells me. "I wonder if we can get an up-close-and-personal interview with Xander. Maybe do some EVP work with him or let you try out your psychometry?"

  "Do you actually think Mr. Pfeiffer will allow that?"

  "He doesn't have to know," Loreen says. "I feel that the doll is a representation of a specific person. From what I know about people using voodoo dolls, you can address the doll almost as if you're talking to the person. You can ask for anything your heart desires because the doll calls upon the loa to fulfill your wishes or dreams."

  "Is there any way to uncharm it?" I ask.

  Patrick toys with his fork. "We'll do our best tonight."

  I turn back to the adults. "You'll come with us, right? We don't know what we're up against and it's always good to have you two around."

  I feel Father Mass's hesitation before he responds. "Well, Loreen and I sort of had ... umm ... personal plans for tonight."

  She places her hand on his. "Aww, honey. It's just dinner. We can reschedule, can't we?"

  A shadow of displeasure crosses my Episcopal priest's handsome face. "Well..."

  Suddenly, I'm blinded by a flashing white light, warm and welcoming and emitting love. There's nothing bad, evil, demented, or frightening about it. It sparkles and shines and radiates pure happiness unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's ... OMG!

  Loreen is walking down a flower-strewn aisle dressed in white lace and tulle. Father Mass waits at the end of the path, his hand reaching toward her.

  I jolt out of the trance, and my eyes fill with tears. I can't stop smiling at my mentors, people I brought together.

  Her eyes shift over me, and then Loreen begins to cry as well. She's seeing exactly the same vision. There is no sadness on her face. Only pure joy at the realization of what we've both foreseen.

  "What is wrong with you two?" Mass asks with great concern.

  Patrick must have seen it too because he nudges me and says, "Shhhhhh ... don't spoil it."

  Father Mass looks at Loreen, me, Patrick, back to Loreen, and then he collapses in the booth with a long sigh of defeat. "You know, don't you?"

  "Ummm ... yeah," I say, beaming at the priest.

  "You damn psychics ruin everything," he says with a smile in his voice.

  Loreen launches herself into his arms. "Oh, Maaaaasssss!"

  He holds her tightly and says close to her ear, "You can't even let me propose in the right way."

  Patrick and I simultaneously reach for each other's hands as we watch the miracle unfold before us.

  Loreen pushes back a little. "Does it really matter?"

  "To me it does. Let me out."

  Loreen moves out of the booth and Mass stands up. In the small café in downtown Radisson, mere steps from Divining Woman, my priest kneels down on one knee on the floor. He withdraws a small white box from the pocket of his jeans and presents it to her.

  I gasp and squeeze Patrick's hand.

  "Will you do me the great honor of marrying me, Loreen Woods?"

  She opens the box and puts her hand to her heart. I don't know how she can focus on the glittering diamond nestled in the red velvet.

  Mass actually seems nervous as he awaits her answer. "Well?"

  Laughing through her tears, Loreen says, "Of course I will!"

  Phew!

  He slips the dazzling stone onto her finger and she slides off the bench and onto the floor with him, where they kiss in celebration. Patrick releases my hand and then hugs me to him, giving me a quick peck in honor of our friends.

  "Okay, you two," I say kiddingly.

  "Sorry," Loreen says, blushing.

  "So, I guess this means you're ghost hunting with us after all?" Patrick asks with a laugh.

  "All right, all right," Mass says.

  They both get up and return to the table, gripping each other. I've never seen two people so happy, so in love, and so meant for each other.

  At least something good is happening in this town.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THAT NIGHT, OUR TEAM SHOWS UP at Farnsworth House. Great trepidation trills underneath my skin, but I tamp it down and force my feet toward the ancient building. No one other than Patrick seems particularly disturbed by tonight's investigation, but then again, they can't sense and feel what we can. Patrick is quiet as we walk in. I know he's concerned as well, though he's trying to hide it to keep me calm. Celia's got on her ghost-hunting vest and has every piece of equipment in her arsenal. She looks totally ridonkulous and adorable at the same time.

  "What are those?" I ask as we unload everything from our cars before going inside.

  "Oh, these are my new devices from Digitaldowsing.com." She holds up a small device with a couple of switches and a speaker on it. "This is a PX, which is an array of sensors that sample environmental data, sum the values into an integer, and associate that integer with a word from the device's dictionary." Another black box with a silver switch. "And this is the EM Pump. It creates a man-made magnetic field that's thought to be a catalyst for spirit manifestations."

  I hold up my hand to keep her from going off the scientific deep end. "These are all great, Cel. I don't think I need to know more. Just tell me the results."

  She smiles at me and tucks the tools back into her vest.

  Shelby-Nichole is toting a digital camera, a video camera, and three infrared cameras to set up in the house. Becca's got her recorders and her computer with speakers and the software program Audacity to review any EVPs.

  Me, I've got my pendulum, a bottle of holy water, my Grandma Ethel's cross, and a sensible pair of tennies on my feet.

  "You ready for this?" Patrick asks. He spent the past two hours meditating in preparation for whatever we encounter tonight. He's about as relaxed as one can be, I would think.

  "As ready as possible to delve into the unknown." I'm a bit uneasy, but I no longer fear the spirits, no matter how snarly they are. I dealt with my anxieties at Oliver Bates's retreat and I know that no matter what, God will protect me, especially since I'm doing what He wants me to do.

  Father Mass and Loreen arrive, and we're ready to roll.

  "You kids are in charge," he says. "But I'm here if you need me for anything."

  We proceed up the walkway that cuts through the perfectly manicured lawn. The last remnants of the April sunset streak the sky in a fiery orange. By the time we've got the base camp set up, it'll be pitch-black outside. Just the right setting for a ghost hunt.

  Mr. Pfeiffer scowls heavily as he lets us into the manor. "It's about damn time," he says gruffly. "My wife had to put dinner in the oven."

  "We told you we'd be here after sunset," Celia says.

  He lets out a harrumph and begins gathering his things. "You have access to the house, as promised. But leave everything exactly the way you found it."

  "We promise," Celia says. She holds her hand out. "The keys, please?"

  "Right, right." The man digs into his suit-coat pocket and produces a knot of silvery keys. "Leave them in the flowerpot on the porch when you're done tonight. Make sure you lock everything back up."

  "We will, Mr. Pfeiffer," Celia says. Then she adds, "Thank you, sir."

  I let out a sigh as I watch him disappear into the darkness. "Okay, let's get started."

  With that, we disperse to wire the house with cameras and recorders. Celia sets up the computer monitor that allows us to see the IR cameras placed throughout the mansion. She and Becca walk around with the EMF detectors getting base readings on the property. Loreen, Patrick, and I
go into the great room and take a seat on the couch to do some deep breathing. My palms are itchy, and my blood swooshes through my veins like raging river rapids. That nagging little psychic headache is starting to flare, letting me know that there will definitely be spirit activity here tonight.

  I hear the floor creaking over my head, but it's just the team exploring up there. Shelby-Nichole and Father Mass were going to try to do some EVP sessions while Celia and Becca completed their walk-through. I'm just sitting here waiting for the spirits to start coming to me. Remarkably, the airwaves are silent for the time being.

  Until...

  "No way!" Becca stands to my left in front of the massive fireplace that dominates the room. "What the hell? Look at these EMF spikes I'm getting." She waves the device in front of the brick hearth and it lights up like the Las Vegas strip at midnight.

  "There aren't any wires in there that could cause that," Celia the scientist says.

  "Something's making it go apeshit," Becca says. "Kendall, are you sensing anything over in this area?"

  I'm skeeved out in general by this whole house, but I can't pinpoint anything yet. "I don't know" is all I can respond.

  Celia jots down the EMF-device information in her notebook. "I've made a note of it and we'll come back to it later."

  She plops down on the antique marble coffee table and shows me her drawings of the floor plans. "So here's what we're looking at. Kitchen, downstairs bedrooms, which were more than likely the slave quarters, considering how small they are and how many of them there are. Upstairs is more bedrooms that would've housed the sixteen Farnsworth children. And right here—this must be Xander's suite," she says, pointing out a corner room on the second floor. She reaches for the keys. "Reckon one of these opens Xander's room?"

  "Maybe so," I say. However, I'm not ready to see the doll yet. Not until we can connect with the spirits that might be—

  Whoa...

  It's as if a stiff lake-effect breeze blows straight through the room swirling up into the fireplace. The temperature around me drops at least thirty degrees. A chill walks up my back, and the hairs on my arms poke out under the goose bumps. A spirit is definitely here.