The Shattered Seam (Seam Stalkers Book 1)

by Kathleen Groger

  I took a deep breath. The scent of pine and a tinge of antiseptic filled my nose.

  “I’m here with my uncle. He’s … ” I wasn’t sure if I should tell a stranger what Horrors & Hauntings were here for or if they kept their locations secret. “Filming a documentary.” Sounded okay.

  “Cool. On Stephen Novak and how he was a murderer?”

  I flipped the monitor over. “Uh, yeah. Something like that. I’m not involved. Just here during spring break.” That sounded so lame.

  “What year are you?”

  “Junior. What about you?” God, he was probably in college and thought I was a little kid.

  “I’m a senior at Central. It’s on Wellesley Island.”

  “Do you take a boat to school then?” Could I ask any stupider questions?

  “Yeah. Aren’t you freezing? Are you from somewhere that winter doesn’t exist?” Kyle unzipped his jacket. “Here, take mine.”

  “No. Thanks, though. I have a coat inside.” I held up the monitor. “I was just checking to see if this worked.” It was mostly true.

  “So you are involved with the filming.” Kyle smiled, and a dimple dotted the right side of his chin.

  My heart did jumping jacks, and a girlish giggle slipped out. Dimples. I loved dimples. “I guess.”

  Kyle shoved one hand in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “Make sure you check out the pool in the basement. It’s wicked cool. I’ve never seen anything like it. But don’t tell anyone I told you. I’m not supposed to go inside the castle.”

  I pictured Kyle in a bathing suit and forgot about the cold. “An indoor pool. Sounds like it would be fun. Doesn’t this place freak you out?”

  “Not anymore. After awhile, you get used to it. Promise you won’t tell I was here? My dad will kill me if he loses his job.”

  “Promise.” I couldn’t get the image of him, shirtless and dripping with water, out of my head. I needed to think of something witty to say before the conversation got awkward.

  “Well.”

  Too late.

  “I need to get back.” Kyle licked his bottom lip, and I couldn’t stop staring. “Are you here all week?”

  “Yeah. Until Saturday.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Sure. Great.” He was going to think I was a total idiot with zero communication skills.

  “Okay. Catch you later.” He walked past me and headed toward the dock.

  “See ya.”

  Kyle turned and gave me a heart-stopping smile, then climbed into the old motorboat. His faded jeans clung to his oh-so-grabbable ass. Damn, he was scrumdiddlyumptious. Maybe the week was salvageable, even though he took the one and only escape route off the island. I should have asked when he’d be back.

  I was such a dork.

  7

  Kyle. Dark-eyed Kyle.

  I returned to the boathouse.

  Daniel leaned the ladder against the wall. “Great, you’re back. What took you so long? Did you see me?”

  “Sorry. I—” Should I tell him about Kyle? I didn’t want to get him or his dad in trouble. “You looked great. Picture was clear.”

  Daniel put on his jacket. “Hopefully the monitor works inside the castle. This is the first investigation we’ve used the new remote unit.”

  He carried the toolbox, and I brought the empty black case. I couldn’t stop thinking about swimming with Kyle.

  We went into the command center.

  “Thanks for your help.” Daniel took the case and started plugging in monitors. A color picture of the tables in the grand hall came into view.

  I sat in the folding chair next to the equipment-filled table. Kyle had been real. I hadn’t hallucinated. I wasn’t ready for an extended visit to the hospital. I blinked away the memory of Nana’s last trip to one. The smells. The people. The feeling of hopelessness.

  Eric and Randall came in and dropped empty cable reels. “How’s the setup?”

  Daniel attached another cord. “Good. A couple more connections, then we should be ready.”

  Eric rubbed his hands together like he was on the verge of a mad-scientist discovery moment. “Isn’t this exciting? Marisol and Brett should be here any minute. And once it’s dark, the fun really begins. What—”

  Daniel’s phone cut Eric off. How did he have a signal, and I didn’t?

  “We’ll meet you there.” Daniel disconnected. “They’re pulling up to the dock.”

  Eric pointed at Randall. “Make sure you film Marisol. I want to capture her first reactions to the island and castle. Let’s go.”

  When we reached the dock, the guys stopped so suddenly, I almost ran into Randall’s back. He aimed the camera at the pair who climbed from Funtime Frank’s boat.

  Dressed entirely in shades of purple, the medium wasn’t what I expected. I’d been picturing the strange old lady from Poltergeist, but her thin body, makeup, and long blonde hair made her look like an underwear model, minus the boobs.

  And her outfit was beyond bizarre. From a hat with a lace veil to her boots, the woman’s over-the-top purpleness screamed weirdo. I had to cover my mouth to keep from busting out laughing.

  “Horrors & Hauntings is pleased to welcome Marisol Deville and Brett Baxter to Shadow Island and Defiance Castle.” Eric turned and shook their hands.

  “Thank you.” Marisol’s voice was diva-smooth. “Now that I’m here, I can begin. I didn’t want to open myself to the dead in case entities not involved in the castle clouded the investigation.” She took off the crazy hat, the gloves, the jacket, and left herself looking super stylish in a white shirt with sleek purple pants and boots.

  She handed her discarded items to Frank, who seemed a little shocked at her giving him the stuff, but with her looks, she was probably used to people tripping over themselves to please her. Things kept getting better and better. Not only was I stuck on Death Island, but I was here with a twenty-something supermodel.

  “Much better.” She pulled a large, black stone necklace set in silver from under her shirt and shook her hair. Sunlight reflected off the smooth surface of the three-inch, oval-shaped stone and the long silver chain.

  “I’ll say,” Randall said, just loud enough that I was sure I was the only one who heard. “If I’d known she looked like this, I wouldn’t have ...”

  Randall’s words made me rethink the conversation I’d overheard.

  A furry mass leapt from the boat and ran at me.

  “Oh. Hello.” I squatted and held my hand out to the dog. He sniffed my hand, bounded right into me, knocked me back, and licked my face.

  “Chauncey, no.” Brett’s deep, almost fatherly voice stopped the licking.

  “Chauncey? You’re so adorable.” I hugged the dog, then stood. “What kind of dog is he?”

  “A mutt. Mostly beagle, but some retriever and who knows what else.” Brett snapped his fingers. “Chauncey, come.”

  The beige dog with brown and black spots sprang to attention. He ran to the aging actor’s side and sat.

  “Good boy.” Brett scratched his ears. “Took me forever to train him.”

  “Marisol, Brett, this is my niece, Sam. She’s staying with us for the investigation,” Eric said.

  I nodded, not sure what to say.

  Frank cleared his throat. He kept glaring at the sky. It made me look too. But luckily, there weren’t any more birds. He handed Marisol’s stuff to Daniel. “See y’all Saturday. That is, if ya last that long. Good luck. Ya gonna need it.” Frank gunned the engine, and the boat tore away from the dock.

  Marisol gave me a piercing look, like she was staring right through me instead of at me. I broke the connection and gazed at Brett. His graying hair was cut too long to be stylish, and his nose exhibited the redness of a life-long cold. Yet he held a certain movie-star mystique women my mom’s age would find hot.

  “Sam, since I’m going to be busy with the H&H boys and the lovely Miss Deville, would you mind watching Chauncey for me?”

&n
bsp; I could imagine what kind of busy the actor wanted to be with Marisol, but I couldn’t stop myself from squealing. I had always wanted a dog, but Mom claimed it would aggravate her allergies.

  “I take that as a yes.” Brett took the dog by his collar and walked him to me. “Chauncey, you stay with Sam.”

  I bent down and petted his fuzzy face. When I stood, I was gazing into Marisol’s sea-foam green eyes.

  “He will guard you well in this place of despair. Even with your strength, you will need protection from the forces that have breached the seam.” She tilted her head to the left and right, like she was trying to loosen a kink in her neck.

  The woman might be crazier than me.

  Eric smacked Randall on the arm and pointed at Marisol. Randall focused the camera on her.

  “Marisol is a well-respected medium and will help us contact any spirits who still linger at Defiance Castle,” Eric monologued for the camera.

  Marisol cracked her jaw then took the path to the castle. Randall filmed every head tip and finger twitch the medium made.

  Bor-ing. Who knew that being behind the scenes of the popular ghost hunting show was so exciting. Yes, folks, her fingers moved. She’s reaching up. She’s extending a finger. Oh, it’s the middle one. Is it a sign from beyond? The speech ran through my mind as I trailed the group back to the castle.

  Chauncey bumped into my leg and then darted off with his nose to the ground. He lifted his leg and whizzed on a tree. His actions were more exciting. Randall should’ve filmed him instead. Chauncey cocked his head and ran back, then he barked and barked. Barked to the point he howled.

  Brett turned and stared at the dog. “Chauncey, what is it, boy?”

  The weight and inability to breathe I’d experienced on the boat returned. I swallowed and rubbed my throat. I couldn’t get enough oxygen. My neck felt strep-throat swollen.

  “Sam, are you okay?” I wasn’t sure who asked—probably Eric.

  Chauncey’s howls turned to pitiful whines. He bumped into me.

  Marisol ran her hand over her throat, miming my movements. “The dog senses something. I feel it too. Something has slipped through. A presence. An evil presence.”

  What was she talking about? She touched my arm, and the smothering sensation disappeared. My vision cleared, and air rushed into my lungs.

  “I know all seems dark. It will get easier.” Marisol’s voice hovered just above a whisper.

  It was as if the woman could read my mind. And I didn’t like it.

  Chauncey stopped whining and jumped up, his paws on my thighs. Marisol let go of my arm.

  “Everything okay?” Eric looked from me to the medium, his confusion making him look a lot older. “What’s happening?”

  I choked out a cough. “I’m fine. Fine.” Chauncey sat next to me.

  “The entities have awoken.” Marisol rubbed her stone necklace.

  No one seemed to know what to say in response to Marisol’s bizarre words.

  “Whatever it was is gone.” Marisol ran two fingers down the length of Chauncey’s nose. “Excellent, canine.”

  He melted into a pile of puppy goo, tail wagging. She caressed his ears with the same two fingers. First the right, then the left. Wonderful. She was a dog whisperer as well as a ghost whisperer. But Chauncey returned his affections to me the minute Marisol stopped. I gave him a scratch, and anxiety fled. I definitely needed to get a dog.

  “That was one interesting welcome.” Brett tugged on a large blue-and-white cooler. “I say we eat before it gets dark. I brought Chinese takeout.”

  Eric put his arm around me. “You sure you’re good?”

  I forced a smile. “Yup.”

  We reached the castle, ate, and gave Marisol and Brett a quick tour, ending in the library. We all filed into the semi-circular room. Neatly lined shelves of books covered the walls. I added the room’s lone window to my sketch.

  “All I’m getting from here is the feeling of worry. And pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. Over and over.” Marisol rocked forward, then back, while rooted to the center of the room. “The person worrying is male.”

  “What else?” Eric asked.

  Marisol stopped moving. “That’s it. I would like to go to the grand hall instead. I need some sugar; it helps replace the energy the spirits drain.” She pulled a Halloween-sized candy bar from her pocket and ate it while crossing the room.

  “Okay.” Eric’s shoulders dropped.

  We went to the grand hall. I lagged behind while Chauncey sniffed every crevice and corner.

  “What do you think, boy? Want to pick up the pace?” I gave the dog a scratch.

  He stuck his nose down and went in the opposite direction of the group. He sniffed harder, then started running.

  “Where are you going? Come back.” I clapped my hands, but the dog ignored me.

  I didn’t want to go running through the castle in the dark, but I had promised Brett I would watch his dog. Chauncey made me feel safe. Sane.

  “Chauncey, come.” I reached for his tail. He turned a corner, and I missed.

  I chased Chauncey through a room that contained shelf after shelf of every type of china ever created, the dining room, and into the kitchen. He stopped for a whiff of Brett’s cooler.

  “You still hungry? That’s why you’ve been running?” I lifted the lid to see what he smelled. There wasn’t any food, just bottles of beer, wine, and vodka. Good thing Brett packed the essentials.

  Chauncey sniffed the air and took off again.

  I sighed, dropped the cooler lid, and followed him into the dark sunroom. I searched the walls on either side of the doorway for a light switch and came up empty, so I used my phone’s flashlight app again.

  A girl with pale skin and dark, shoulder-length hair stared at me from the other side of the room.

  My heart leapt into my throat. “Ahh.” The phone slipped from my hand. I picked it up and shined it at my reflection in the glass.

  “I’m so stupid.”

  Chauncey turned and looked at me like I’d spoken Latin.

  “Come on, we’re not exploring. We need to be with everyone else.”

  He darted away, his nose on overdrive. I went after him through another doorway and entered a tiny corridor. A closet-sized bathroom, decorated in shades of red, was to my left. To the right, stairs. He stopped on the first step and glanced at me.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go back.”

  He darted down the steps.

  “Damn it, dog.” I ran my fingers along the rough wall. No light switch. Using my phone, I navigated the twisting stone steps.

  “Chauncey, please. Come here.” I whistled and snapped my fingers. He kept going into the darkness.

  The walls were made of rock, and every few stairs there was a sconce, minus the candle, mounted to the wall. It got colder with every step. When I reached the bottom, the smell of mold and neglect ratcheted my scaredy-cat feeling.

  Chauncey stopped, scented the air, then took off again.

  “This is nuts.” Chauncey had increased my confidence, but I hadn’t planned on chasing him into the dark bowels of the castle. Basements creeped me out, and this one was spook central.

  Cobwebs dripped from the ceiling and brushed my face. I pushed them aside. I pictured bats swooping down and getting stuck in my hair. I whistled again. Chauncey sniffed and sniffed. What was so interesting? The dog was probably chasing a disease-carrying mouse. Or a rat. My phone’s light swept across a light switch. I flicked it and the basement lit up. My freak-o-rama factor dialed down a degree, and I followed Chauncey’s clicking nails across the cement floor.

  The corridor opened up into a larger space, where a lion’s head fountain hung from the wall. Instead of water dripping from its mouth, a ribbon of mold oozed into the basin. At least it wasn’t blood. Suppressing a gag at the scent and the spider crawling across the lion’s eye, I turned left and stopped.

  Chauncey stood there, wagging his tail.

  A massive
swimming pool stretched out past archways identical to the ones leading into the grand hall, which had to be right above me. Constructed with royal-blue tiles, the pool gave the appearance of being filled with water even though it was empty.

  “Chauncey, wow. Look what you found. The pool.” My voice sounded deeper and huskier than normal. Kyle was right. It was beautiful. Shades of blue swirled together and undulated across the length of the pool. White tiles splattered with a blue stone-like design covered the bottom.

  Chauncey gave a playful bark, then ran into the pool area and ducked under a curtain at the end of the room.

  I went past dusty lounge chairs to the curtain. Pulling back the stiff and crumbling blue-and-white-striped fabric, I ducked past it. Chauncey stood on top of one of the cushioned ottomans dotting the space. The room was filled with plush cushions and chairs. Ignoring the fact the furniture looked and smelled beyond something an entire bottle of Febreze couldn’t save, I pictured Kyle and me sitting here after a swim.

  Chauncey cocked his head, then raced off the ottoman and under the curtain.

  Water splashed.

  “What the—?” I knocked the curtain aside and chased after Chauncey. The dog crouched at the edge of the pool with his weight on his front legs, like he was going to spring at something. The fur on his back stood on end.

  I followed the direction of Chauncey’s gaze. Nothing was there.

  “What do you see?” I rubbed my upper arms. “Is somebody down here? Eric?”

  Chauncey gave a low growl and ran down the cement next to the pool. I sprinted after him. He stopped when he reached the other side of the archways.

  When I spotted what he’d found, I screamed.

  8

  Footprints. Wet, child-sized footprints started at the pool and trailed to the left into the darkness.

  “Okay, who’s messing with me? Eric? Come on, this isn’t funny.” No one answered, and the unsettling feeling of being watched burned an icy trail along my skin.