“He has to!” Sophie jabbed a finger at the papers in Aphra’s hand. “The evidence is right there!”
“Well... maybe...” Aphra lifted her head to look at Sophie. “But maybe not.” Running her hand over the pages, she said, “He may... he probably will view this differently than you and I do.”
“Now that would be close minded.”
“Dearest, when you started seeing Brad, how did you describe yourselves to me?”
Sophie’s mouth twitched. “Yin and Yang? Opposites?”
“You said that he looks upon himself as a skeptic, and sees you as an optimist. You’re more open to the possibilities of the Universe, and he considers himself more grounded.” Aphra laughed lightly. “Gods know I’ve tried to draw him out of his narrow views.”
“Yes, but I don’t think teasing him is a good strategy. He just becomes more and more convinced you’re a space cadet!” Sophie couldn’t suppress a smile.
Aphra waved her hand in the air. “Well... maybe I lay it on a little thick when he comes into the store, I’ll grant you that.” She sat opposite Sophie. “I do enjoy teasing him. I try to say the most ridiculous mystical things to get a rise out of him. But he’s never once taken the bait. He’s stubborn, and like most men his age, he’s convinced he has the world figured out. No, Sophie. I think the best way you can help Brad is prayer, meditation and give him every amulet, crystal, healing herb that we can muster up for his protection.”
Sophie sighed. “I’m going to stop at the church on my way home. I haven’t been since I was a little girl but I’m calling in all markers. Holy water, crucifixes...” she grinned. “I’ll be a walking talisman.”
“Speaking of which...” Aphra twisted to the side and reached for a bundle of dried cedar, sweet grass and sage along with a large clam shell and lighter. “This can’t hurt, either.” She lit the end and a scented smoke rose from the dried herbs. Her hand drifted from Sophie’s head, shoulders and down the length of her body. “If Brad comes over to your place tonight, do this for him.”
As she continued the ritual, Aphra said, “I knew when I first met you that your third eye, your ability to perceive on another level was highly developed.”
Sophie just nodded.
“But, I gather that this is not the first time that you’ve sensed entities beyond the veil.”
Sophie finished her tea and inhaled the white smoke drifting in the air around her body. Immediately she felt refreshed and cleaner somehow. “My Grandmother was a sensitive. I must have inherited it from her.” She let out a gentle laugh. “My mother wasn’t at all, so it must skip a generation. Granny and I used to drive Mom crazy when we were all together. She and I knew each other’s thoughts. We always partnered playing bridge and we were unbeatable.”
“I’m talking about something wider than the connection between two kindred spirits, Sophie.”
“I know you are, Aphra.” Sophie frowned. “But the only other person I ever discussed it with was my Granny before she passed on.” She took a deep breath and set the cup on the small table next to her.
“All my life, Granny and I were completely in sync. But after...” she fluttered her hands in the air and began to blush a little.
“After puberty set in...”
Sophie nodded. “Yes. Things changed and I was able to sense spirits. Not all the time, and not all that might be around me, but it became a regular occurrence.” Her face tightened. “It was Granny that helped me cope with all of it.”
“You were never afraid?”
“Of the spirits?” She shook her head. “No, not at all. It felt entirely natural for me when I began to sense them. It was like I was talking to someone in another room.” She held out a hand. “What was frightening for me was when I tried to tell other people about it.” She gave a small shrug. “Mom thought I was losing my mind.” Pointing a finger for emphasis, she said, “Now my mother’s response—that was scary. She totally freaked out.” She let out a huff of air. “But when I spoke to Granny about it, she told me I had to keep that gift to myself, and I did.”
Aphra leaned forward. “Well, I don’t have the gift, but I do believe you, Sophie.”
Sophie patted the woman’s hands. “And I truly am grateful. I haven’t told a soul about this since my Granny died.”
“Do you hear them all the time?”
She shrugged. “The spirits I’ve seen sense that I’m attuned to them. Usually, I’m able to carry on and treat it like it’s white noise. If I didn’t I couldn’t function.” A smile flashed on her face. “Not always though. When I was in first year of college and rooming in an old house, there was a spirit that I had to help. It was either that or never get a full night’s sleep again. A man who had been killed in a car crash, wandered the halls looking for his wife and daughters. He couldn’t fathom that he was actually dead. I helped him cross the threshold to find peace.”
“Amazing.” Aphra’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide and intent staring at Sophie.
Sophie inhaled and shook her head slightly, dispelling the memory. “But now? There’s no helping whatever is in Brad’s house. It is better left alone.” Her fingers knotted in her lap and she looked down. “I’m frightened Aphra. This thing has killed before and it will kill again!”
Chapter 14
Brad
Later that night, Brad knocked on Sophie’s apartment door. She had finally replied to his text messages and phone calls late in the day, and even though he was bushed from all the work on the house, he couldn’t wait to see her. Considering how she had lit out from the Inn, he was pretty surprised that she invited him over to her place at all.
He took a deep breath squaring his shoulders. She said she had learned some important information and wanted to show it to him. Well, whatever she’d found out was not going to spoil his plans...well his and Tim’s plan. What did she expect him to do? Turn tail and run? Abandon his dream, because of her fear and superstition? Not to mention the fact that every penny in the world he had was tied up in the Inn and he was in debt up to his eyeballs with the mortgage.
Dammit! He gave up his career for this venture! She was in for a rude awakening if she thought she was going to change his mind with all her granola eating, New-Agey claptrap. Not going to happen.
In spite of his annoyance, when she answered the door, his heart did that familiar cartwheel. “Hi,” he said. It came out like a croak from his suddenly dry mouth. Her cat like green eyes, and the smile on her cherub lips did what they had always done—made him go all pitter patter inside. Even after six months as a couple, even after waking up next to her on more than a few mornings, the first sight of her always turned him to jelly.
Dammit! Did she have to be so damn perfect? It wasn’t fair. He loved her so much she annoyed the snot out of him sometimes. He took a deep breath and smiled at her. “I’m glad you asked me over,” he said with a normal voice.
She brightened at him. “I’m glad you came. You’ve got to see what I found out.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
He sighed as she led him across the room to the futon, the scent of cinnamon and cedar wafting through the room from the candles burning on the high armoire. The small indoor fountain gurgled like the brook back out at the Inn, and in the background a soft melody from a Pan flute gently twinkled from a speaker in the corner. With her artistic flair she could make even a basement bachelor apartment an enchanting oasis.
And she was dressed the part herself. Her gauzy mid eastern tunic was airy and loose over her black leggings. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think she had anything on underneath. She patted the seat next to her and he sat down.
“Sophie...I’m glad you finally answered my text. I’m really sorry about the way things went for you back at the Inn.” His hand began to stroke her upper arm, as he leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head at the last second.
“Hold on Brad, we need to talk. I left the property because I was scared out of my wits.”
> “Yeah, I know. Who blabbed to you about that place?”
Sophie looked puzzled. “Nobody told me a thing about that place. What I felt there was from that place, Brad!”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s the truth!” She thumped her fist on his knee in frustration.
“Okay, okay! For the sake of argument, I’m not going to argue!”
She looked at him levelly and sighed. “What do you know about that house that you didn’t want me to know about?”
He shrugged. “There was some sort of a murder that happened there. Some guy went crazy or something.” He held out his hands. “That’s why we were able to get such a great price for the place.”
She shook her head. “That house has a really bad history, Brad.”
He felt his heart sink lower. Of course he already knew what she was going to show him. The fact that the family had died there was not a negative as far as he and Tim were concerned. It was callous perhaps, but it was marketing. They could handle whatever crazy weird shit happened in the house.
“Okay. What did you find out? I’ll warn you up front it probably won’t change anything....” He perched on the edge of the futon, leaning over to see the newspaper article that she’d printed.
She elbowed him sharply and her eyes were narrow when she turned to face him. “Brad, I know you want to make some money off this but you guys don’t know what you’re fooling with.” She tapped the page with a purple fingernail and continued. “Just read this. I’m sure this family thought the house was wonderful too.”
He glanced over at her and sighed once more before starting to read.
The Kingston Whig Standard
September 12, 2001
Tragic Family Murder, Suicide
Ontario Provincial Police officers came upon a scene of tragedy and horror at 3155 Lakeside Avenue, on Thursday. The bodies of six family members, including four children, scattered around the large house, appeared to be the victims of a multiple murder-suicide, said Detective Sergeant, Mike Moran.
The family—a father, mother and four children—had not been seen the day before at work or school, and the father’s co-workers had asked police to check on them, he said.
“This is a complex crime scene” that will take several days to sort through, Moran said.
He declined to release the victims’ names, ages, or manner of death, or to speculate on why it happened.
The home, built in 1931, is on Loughborough Lake, near Kingston. It had been sold in August to husband and wife Joseph and Eleanor Baxter, according to Frontenac County property records. The couple have four children, two sons ages 12 and 4 and two daughters, ages 10 and 8, according to public records.
As evening fell, investigators from the Ontario Provincial police continued their work at the scene. The Frontenac County Medical Examiner’s office was to conduct autopsies.
Scanner traffic between police and dispatchers indicated that all of the victims appeared to have died of severe injuries. After entering the home, officers secured a small dog, then began a search and found the bodies, one by one, in different areas of the house.
Moran said he has never seen a scene so grim in his three decades of police work, and that finding the bodies was extremely difficult for the officers involved.
“There’re no words to describe it. ... It’s a tragedy,” he said. “This is a tough one to handle.”
As he read, the sinking feeling grew heavier in his chest. The scrawled printing ‘Jonas’ flashed in his mind. Here was living proof of the poor kid’s death. It could have been in that room, since the bodies were found all over the house. Hearing that there’d been a murder/suicide and actually reading the police account were waaay different experiences.
He sat quietly for a few moments and then slid the page away from him. “It’s awful. I wonder why he killed his family. Fuck! Even the little guy, four years old? Why? He must have been schizophrenic or something. No one in their right mind would do such a horrible thing.”
She placed her fingers on his hand and leaned closer. “That’s just it. He wasn’t in his right mind. Whatever is in that house must have broken him. Brad, that’s what I sensed...that evil.”
“Oh come on! You’re telling me that there’s some evil spirit in that house that made that guy do this?”
Sophie nodded. “I think it’s somehow tied up with historic events, that it gets its power when something horrible happens in the world.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Look at the date of the article, Brad,” she tapped the top of the print out and peered up at him. “Baxter killed his family on 911!” She sat back on the futon. “I checked the timeline of that event, and I bet the killing started when the first plane was hijacked.”
Brad sighed. “It’s just a coincidence, Sophie. You’re making some kind of a mystical conspiracy out of thin air.”
“Well, the same thought occurred to me. So I kept digging.” She produced another printout and handed it to him.
His stomach fell and his skin began to crawl as he read about a second family that died at the house. This time it was in the 1940’s, and it was a family with only two children. He looked up at Sophie.
“The same name? Baxter?”
She nodded. “Look at the date, Brad.” When he looked down and back up at her blankly, she let out a frustrated grunt. “Those murders happened on August 6th, 1945!”
“So?”
She sighed. “That morning, more than twenty thousand people died in the blink of an eye when Hiroshima was bombed!” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that! Twenty thousand people were vaporized! Loads more died that day from the fires and radiation, but it was the largest single instant of loss of life in history!” She snapped her fingers again. “Just! Like! That!”
The frozen chill that went down his spine told him there was something to this theory of hers. Both times ‘Baxter’? Both times on enormously tragic days for humanity?
As if she was hearing his thoughts, Sophie said in an even voice, “These aren’t coincidences, Brad. There’s a connection.” It drove him nuts when she did that. It was almost like she was reading his mind and he resented the invasion of privacy.
“But what? What’s the connection?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know! But I know that there is one!” Her eyes welled up.
Oh shit. His face was tight watching her, the concern in her eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about Carly’s incident and the dress. Sitting here, he knew that wasn’t an accident. That thing tried to scare the hell out of her. But there was no way he was going to tell Sophie about it.
“How’s Carly? What does she think?” asked Sophie.
“What the hell does she have to do with this!” he said, rattling the pages in his hand.
She flinched back. “I don’t know. She just popped into my head, that’s all.”
This was going full speed into the Twilight Zone. He had to put a stop to it.
He sat back on the futon and turned towards her. “But this kind of thing happens all the time. You read it about it. Some guy or woman just goes crazy and kills everyone. Look at that woman in the States who drowned her kids in the bath tub. You can’t blame the house. It’s mental illness, that’s all. Tragic but there you have it.”
“Twice?”
“Sure! Crazy does run in some families you know.”
Her chin drooped to her chest and her voice became soft. “I knew you’d say something like that. But what I felt when I got out of the car—that was real, not mental illness.” She turned to face him and her eyes were wide with earnest when she spoke. “There’s something evil in that house. I’m really scared for you and Tim. You laugh about this stuff, but it’s real.”
Brad had held his tongue, but his patience finally broke. “Sophie! Stop it.” His eyes closed for a moment and he gritted his teeth. “I admit the place is creepy. Maybe there is something to bad karma lin
gering, I don’t know. But we’ve bought the place and that’s going to work for us, don’t you see?”
Her hand flashed out and she jabbed his chest. “What I see are two idiots toying with some powerful stuff. You’re in over your heads and you’re too dumb to know it.” Her fingers bunched in his shirt and she tugged him close. “It’s dangerous! You could be hurt or killed, asshole!”
He shoved her hand away and stood up. She’d gone too far. “Enough with the evil spirit shit, okay?”
The fire in her eyes extinguished, to be replaced with concern looking up at him. “God, I wish I could talk some sense into you.”
“SENSE INTO ME? Are you kidding? I’m the one giving you reasonable explanations! You’re the one who’s living in an episode of the X-Files!”
For a moment or two, all energy seemed to seep out of his body onto the floor. He’d never spoken to her like that before. She looked helpless and beaten down, her shoulders slumping and locks of auburn hair falling forward, all because she cared about him. He might not agree but he had to respect her concern. “I’m sorry, Sophie. Honest, we’ll be okay.” He reached for her hand, wishing that he could fold her in his arms and make everything better. But that only worked in the movies.
She grasped his fingers and stood up, giving his hand a good squeeze and looking straight into his eyes. “Will you do something for me?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve selling the place before we’ve even got it off the ground, then sure.”
A sad smile formed on her lips and she blinked a couple times to clear her eyes. She gave him one last squeeze and stepped away to the armoire. There was a small black box there next to the candle. She picked it up and turned to face him, lifting the lid off. “I got two of these today. The priest blessed them with holy water.”
The Haunted Inn (Haunted House Ghost Story): The Hauntings of Kingston Page 8