“You can’t do that.”
“Yes. I. Can.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom? Can I do that alone?” My words were edging higher and sliding beyond bitchy. “You’re being extreme. It’s just a burn.”
“I’m not being extreme. I should have told your mother no. This isn’t a place for you. I think we need to get a hold of Frank and have him pick us up.”
“Man, what? We can’t leave.” Randall aimed the camera at Eric. “And you heard Cap’n Frank. He ain’t coming back early.”
Eric put his palm over the camera lens. “Turn it off. This isn’t for the show.”
“Eric, seriously, you can’t leave. You worked too hard to get here. It’s fine. I’m fine. Besides, nothing attacked me.”
I rubbed the spot on my chest. At least nothing in the dungeon. But I wasn’t going to be the reason they left, the reason they might lose the show.
“The stick didn’t attack me. I grabbed it. Any one of us could have done that. It wasn’t a demon attack.” I titled my head toward Marisol. “Just something stupid.”
“It was something paranormal for sure. I need to protect you.”
As much as I wanted to disagree with Eric, I couldn’t come up with an alternate explanation for how the stick burned me.
“What if Sam changes rooms to the one next to you, but still has freedom in the castle? Chauncey will be with her. No teenager wants to be a prisoner.” Brett moved his hands in an up-and-down movement as if to say, what do you think?
I mouthed thank you to Brett and faced Eric. He spun his pinkie ring again.
“I don’t like it, but I guess that will work. Promise me, if anything weird”—he gave me a one-eyebrow-lifted glare—“I mean anything happens, you’ll tell me.”
There was no way I’d tell him everything. He’d film it, then Mom would have me committed as soon as we got off the island. She wanted nothing to do with anything bizarre and weird. “Deal.”
“Now that we have that settled, let’s get to work.” Daniel slapped Eric on the back.
The rest of the day went on without too much drama. I refused to think about the burn. Eric kept hold of the journal, and the others either slept or reviewed the recordings from the night before. Dinner was soup heated in the microwave. I mentally thanked Mom for stashing snacks in my suitcase.
While Eric ate, he let me read Novak’s crazy musings. I opened the book to a random page.
August 15, 1902
Today has been a glorious day on the island. The boathouse is almost finished and just after breakfast, the men laid the final stone to complete the foundation. As I expected, the rocks from the asylum match perfectly in all manner with those from Houska Castle. I received an extra treat during lunch. Several flocks of ravens arrived, and it appears they intend to take up residence on the island. Such beautiful creatures. Some of the workers were afraid their arrival was an omen of coming death. If that is the case, so be it. I prefer to think of them more as companions or even guardians.
The foreman asked me this evening if he could bring his sister to the island tomorrow to see the progress his crew has made. He seemed very excited to see her, as he says she has been off to Harvard for the better part of a year. If her look is pleasing to me, I shall personally provide her with a tour, and if her luck is good, even bed her by night’s end.
I slammed the journal shut. “What a pig.”
“Who?” Eric glanced up from his bowl.
“Novak. He’s talking about getting it on with the foreman’s sister. Wonder if he killed her too? What a jerk.”
Eric picked up his bowl and set it in the sink. “Easy enough to find out. I’ll ask Daniel to research it, or Novak might have written down what he did to her. He did seem to have a way with the ladies, though.”
“Yeah, well, he was still a murderer. Oh, and he said the freaky black birds arrived during construction. He thought of them as guardians. What bullshit.”
“Hey, watch your language.”
“Just taking after my uncle’s ACT vocabulary.”
Eric rubbed his nose with his middle finger. “Smartass. Come on, we need to plan the filming.”
We joined everyone except Marisol, who had a headache and wanted to rest, in the command center.
“I think we should start in Novak’s bedroom then revisit the dungeon later tonight,” Eric told the team.
“I wish we’d picked up something more than one EVP that’s undecipherable.” Daniel fiddled with some buttons on the equipment.
Randall shoved batteries into his pockets. “We’ll get more tonight.”
“We need to. If not, well, we could—we all know we need better ratings … ” Daniel stopped talking at the brow-furrowed look Eric shot him.
“The master bedroom it is.” Brett stepped in between Eric and Daniel and tapped both of them on the shoulder.
We made our way up the steps and to the bedroom. Once there, I made sure to stay away from the demon fireplace. The full moon let me see what the guys did, but the bed and Novak’s portrait were in dark shadows. I stared at the bed and couldn’t get the picture of Novak having sex with and then killing women out of my head. The guy had been Grade-A evil, and I was in his most intimate room. My skin crawled. Even if I took a shower, I doubted I would be able to scrub away the dirtiness that had leeched into my pores.
“Is Marisol coming?” Eric directed the question to Brett.
Brett shrugged. “I checked on her earlier. She said she needed to have sugar and rest to increase her energy levels. She should be better later tonight.”
“As long as she’s with us for the dungeon session.”
I ducked under the camera’s line of sight and sat cross-legged on the floor under the window. I tapped the cover of my sketchbook, and Chauncey curled up next to me.
Eric started with the EVP again. Then they filmed with the infrared camera. After that, they moved on to the spirit box ghost-talking device. I saw and heard nothing supernatural. Time seemed to stand still. Petting Chauncey and watching Daniel kept me awake.
Brett held up the black device. “If anyone would like to talk to us, use this and it will speak for you.”
Chauncey lifted his head and snuggled closer. I stroked his ears and thought back to Novak’s journal entry. Had he killed the foreman’s sister here? More likely, the poor girl hadn’t lived to see the castle completed.
“If you—” Eric started.
Lightning flashed outside and filled the bedroom with a bright light. Chauncey growled low in his throat. I turned and looked up at the window.
Another flash, and I caught the outline of a bird on the windowsill. I blinked, and it was gone.
“Was it supposed to storm tonight?” Eric glanced at the dark window.
Thunder boomed. Glass rattled above my head. I jumped up.
“Storm,” the spirit box said.
“That’s right. There’s a storm. Can you use its energy to show yourself?”
Another flash, and another crash. I slid over to the corner by the dresser.
“What about moving something? Can you move something so we know where you are?” Eric’s voice held a note of pleading.
“Room,” the device said.
“Room. Yes. Where in the room are you?”
Lightning flashed again and thunder shook the walls.
Chauncey barked.
Randall pulled the earbuds from his ears. “Dudes, I just lost audio.”
“I lost video.” Daniel jiggled his camera.
Eric clicked his camera’s power switch repeatedly.
Brett banged the spirit box against his palm. “This is dead.”
“We’re having a simultaneous equipment failure.” Eric used his deep TV voice even though nothing was recording him. “Are you causing this? Can you show yourself?”
I shrank back against the wall. It had to be the storm. The storm was messing with the equipment.
Another flash. I set my sketchbook down an
d grabbed the dresser’s edge with my good hand. Thunder crashed. The window shattered, and glass flew like tiny missiles across the room. Wind rushed in, waving and snapping the curtains in the fierce gale. Chauncey cowered next to my leg.
The wind howled, things smashed, and everyone screamed.
14
The wind cycloned through Novak’s bedroom. Pictures exploded off the walls, and small items from the top of the dresser became projectiles. The bedding took flight.
I clutched the dresser and spread my feet wider. The end of my ponytail slapped me across the face.
“Are you causing this?” Eric yelled over the wind.
Another quick flash of light. I caught the expression of fright on Brett’s face and the excitement on Eric’s. Thunder pounded like it was in the room with us. The walls vibrated. The dresser shifted and rocked.
“Is it an earthquake?” someone yelled, barely audible over the noise.
The dresser pulled away and tipped forward. The drawers opened and crashed to the floor, just missing Chauncey’s tail.
I couldn’t stop screaming. The snapping curtain lashed my arm. I tried to move out of the way, but my foot caught the edge of something. I slammed into the floor and hit my burnt palm hard on a drawer, sending shockwaves of searing pain through my hand.
“Sam!”
Strong arms grabbed me and dragged me from the room. The hallway was quiet. No thunder, no wind, no sound.
“Are you okay?” Eric bent over me, clutching my shoulder.
“I think so. My hand’s killing me.” I struggled out of his grasp and sat up. “Was it an earthquake?”
“The cameras are working again,” Randall hollered from the bedroom, as if the wind still howled.
Eric clicked on his flashlight, shining it into the room. “Holy hell.”
I stood and walked into what was left of the bastard’s room. The bedding and mattress lay in a tangle on the floor. The dresser had scattered its contents across the carpet. Picture frames, knickknacks, the dead clock, and other things added to the chaos. Glass from the window peaked out from the debris. The only thing that remained untouched by the wind was the demon fireplace and Novak’s portrait.
“Tell me we got some of that on film!” Eric bolted into the room and spun around, shining his light in the corners.
“My sketchbook. I dropped it. Does anyone see it?” The room was a wreck. I couldn’t have lost it. The book was my sanity wrapped in leather.
Brett patted me on the shoulder, and we walked back into the bedroom. “We’ll find it.”
“That had to be a manifestation. Randall, did we get any footage?” Eric was excited, but his tone said he wanted to—needed to—have something on film.
Randall pushed different buttons on his camera. “Nothing. Daniel?”
Daniel gave a slow shake of his head.
“We all experienced it, but we have no evidence?” Brett gave Chauncey a treat from his pocket. The poor dog had his tail stuck between his legs and wouldn’t stop shaking.
“No, nothing. But I’m getting the aftermath.” Randall filmed from every corner.
“Wasn’t it a storm that caused this mess?” I rubbed the gauze on my palm. The injury stung, and tendrils of heat pulsated through my hand. I kicked some of the dresser debris with my boot. I had to find my sketchbook.
Eric shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“There wasn’t any rain, man,” Randall said, as if that confirmed it was paranormal and not weather-related.
“You don’t need rain for a storm.” I was getting angry.
“Hang on. Hang on.” Brett held his hands up, palms out. “Let me check the weather app on my phone.” He took his cell out.
“Good luck. The island is a cell service black hole.” I shoved aside more stuff.
“Weather’s the easiest answer. Let’s see if we can prove this was just a storm,” Daniel said.
“Well, there was lightning, thunder, loss of power, and wind.” I ticked the points off on the fingers of my burnt hand. “Sounds like a storm to me.”
“But all those things also can be signs of a manifestation.” Eric kicked at the clothes on the floor.
I opened my mouth to make another point when I spotted Randall aiming his camera at me. “Okay.”
There was no point arguing. They needed this to be paranormal. I needed it to be anything but something from the other side. I looked at the cluttered floor, hoping for a sign of my sketchbook. I pushed more junk around with my boot. The thought of touching Novak’s stuff with my hands sent a small dose of panic through my veins.
“Wonder if there’s anything to board up the window with?” Eric righted the fallen dresser, cleared a path to the window, and leaned out. “Whoa.”
I knocked more debris aside and thought I caught sight of the edge of my sketchbook. I kicked away a shirt. It was a piece of wood. “What’s that?”
Brett bent down, about to grab it—
“Wait! Don’t touch it.” Daniel yelled louder than necessary.
Brett yanked his hand back. “What?”
Eric spun away from the window. Chauncey made a move to investigate, and Brett latched on to his collar.
Daniel handed his camera to Eric, picked up a sock from the clothes pile, and slipped it on his hand. I took a step back when he bent down and lifted up the jagged wooden piece. It was weathered and looked old.
I spotted the faded letters, and chills shimmied down my skin, pooling in my toes. “Is that a Ouija board?”
“Not exactly.” Daniel held it out so the cameras had a clear view of the painted side.
Eric moved closer. “It’s a kind of spirit-talking board.” He grabbed a shirt and picked up another piece of wood. “It’s been snapped in half.”
He flipped it over. “Check this out.” He waved Randall over, cameras still rolling. “It has grooves and a weird pattern.”
Daniel turned his piece over and held it next to Eric’s. “This is a blood board.”
“A what?” I couldn’t keep my voice from cracking.
Daniel set his piece on the dresser. “Blood boards were used by people who dealt in the occult. It’s thought that once the grooves are filled with blood, it serves as a sacrifice and calls forth—”
A scene of fire and shadowy bodies twisting in the flames flashed above the broken board. Ribbons of fire slithered down the dresser and crept along the floor.
No one reacted.
It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. I blinked. The fire came closer and wrapped around my boots. Heat crept up my legs. The scent of burning hair flared my nostrils. Oh, God. I chanted “not real” over and over in my head.
The flames wrapped around my thighs. I jumped back and slapped at my legs. No one noticed my loony actions.
“Why aren’t you touching it?” Brett’s voice cut through the vision.
I glanced down; no fire. There was no fire anywhere. It had felt and smelled real. My chest ached, and the scratches itched. I rubbed the spot with my good hand.
“Because it might have spirits tied to it. I don’t want to influence it before Marisol can assess it.” Daniel pushed the wooden board back farther on the empty dresser. Eric set his piece next to the other one, but kept them from touching, and filmed the pieces.
“Where is she?”
Would Marisol have seen the fire if she had been here? Or was I just whacked out of my head?
“She had to have heard the commotion. What room is she using?” Eric didn’t look up.
No one answered his question.
“Doesn’t anyone know?” Eric turned to face us.
Brett let go of Chauncey. “She was in the library when she told me she was going to lie down. We’re all on the second floor, right?”
Everyone answered yes.
“Maybe she’s on the third floor. I read somewhere, the higher a medium is off the ground, the easier it is for them to block out the spirits.”
Randall snorted. “That’s a
stinking pile of crap.”
“I’ll go look for her. You guys keep investigating,” Brett said.
“Thanks, Brett. We should cover this window with something though. If anyone were to trip ... ” Eric shivered and slapped his palms together. “End game.”
Daniel pointed at the busted window. “I’ll take care of it. After I get it boarded up, I’ll go back to command, check the footage, and see if we caught anything on the other cameras.” He flashed me a white-toothed smile, then left.
“Sam, how are you doing?” Eric tilted his head to the side, making him look like the teenager I remembered.
“Fine. My hand’s kinda hurting though.” And I was totally freaking out about the board and the fire vision.
“Did you see anything?” His tone was a tad too hopeful.
A quick glance confirmed Randall’s camera was still rolling. I couldn’t say anything. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Okay. Do you want to stay with us or have you had enough excitement for tonight? You can crash in my room.”
Going to bed sounded like a great idea, but I was too wired to sleep. Besides, if I went to bed, then everything would come crashing into the forefront of my mind.
Medium. Medium. Medium.
The only good thing that had happened had been seeing Kyle. My stomach flip-flopped when I pictured his face and piercing eyes.
“I’ll stay with you a little longer. I’m not tired yet.”
“What should we do with the blood board?” Randall asked.
“Leave it for now. After Brett corrals Marisol, we’ll have her do a reading on it. Let’s go downstairs.” Eric led the way out of Stephen Novak’s bedroom.
After they left, I gave the room one last glance. The curtains fluttered in a small breeze. Goose bumps popped out all over my skin. The curtain blew straight out like it was reaching for me.
15
I sprinted from the master bedroom, from the curtains, and kept running until I reached the main hallway. I needed to calm down. The curtain wasn’t possessed. It wasn’t out to get me. But it seemed as if something in the bedroom had me in its sights.
The Shattered Seam (Seam Stalkers Book 1) Page 9