Ghosts of Averoigne: A Paranormal Menage Romance (Chronicles of the Hallowed Order Book 1)

by Krista Wolf

  Twenty-Six

  She continued on alone, room by room, despite Jeremy’s insistence that they stick together. Partly because there were so many rooms, and it was still a good way to cover a lot of ground. But mostly because she was embarrassed.

  Kara had always prided herself on being fiercely independent. And here she’d cried out like a scared little girl… over a cat that probably died while the Beatles were still on tour.

  And Logan, her conscience reminded her. Don’t forget Logan.

  Twice she’d shown weakness when it came to the ex lover who had scorned her. Twice she’d given in. No matter what occurred for the rest of the trip, Kara was determined not to let that happen again. She’d be strong. Professional.

  But still scared.

  The third floor only got more spooky and bizarre. The next room she encountered was a lot like the first, only this one was painted blood red. Floor to ceiling, the entire thing was covered in a thick red paint. Even the rugs were red.

  She saw a white room after that. At one time it must’ve been impressively pristine, but now it was faded ivory and filthy with disuse.

  “They redecorated in the sixties,” Jeremy explained out in the hallway, while they were passing off the skeleton key. “Did some kind of kooky theme rooms to attract guests. I just did one that was painted in spirals.”

  “Ugh,” Kara said.

  “Yeah,” he coughed. “I was in there for only five minutes and I was all ready to throw up.”

  “Didn’t they shut this floor down sometime in the nineteen-sixties?” Kara asked.

  “I think so.”

  She spat out some dust. “Maybe that’s why the spirits got so pissed back then.”

  Jeremy took his glasses off and started cleaning them against his shirt. He looked slightly older now, more distinguished… but he was still the same old Jeremy. More memories came flashing back. Memories of her hiding his glasses, back at the Manor. Of sending him on little treasure hunts to find them. He always did look more handsome without them, Kara reminded herself. And now… maybe even more so.

  “So you’re saying that whatever spirits still reside here got stirred up during the renovation?”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded appreciatively. “That theory actually makes sense.”

  “Wouldn’t you be pissed if someone painted your once beautiful room black or white or red?”

  “Or crazy spirals,” chucked Jeremy. “Yeah.”

  He passed her the key and his fingers lingered on hers. Kara let them. His big hand was warm and smooth, his touch every bit as gentle as she remembered.

  “Be careful,” he said as he disappeared into the next room.

  “You too.”

  Some rooms were different than others. Different layouts. Different furniture. Some were even consistent with the era.

  All of them were bizarre.

  In room 311 Kara encountered a hanging egg chair — a retro artifact she hadn’t seen except in photographs. In person, it was every bit as cool as she thought it might be. She had to resist the urge to jump into it, to try it out. If only the chain fastening the thing to the ceiling didn’t look so damn unstable.

  Her search turned up little, if anything, of interest. Room 308 gave up a dog-eared paperback with a missing cover. Room 317 had a cracked headboard and a whole bathtub full of mothballs. Throughout her search, Kara stayed hyper-aware of any flashes or visions. Any sort of peek backwards through time — a glimpse into what this place might once have been like — would’ve been welcome, and possibly helpful. But nothing happened.

  A hour passed, then two. When they reached the end of the long, zig-zagging corridor, they came together and switched hallways. Logan suggested taking a break. Jeremy and Kara outvoted him; they just wanted to get it done.

  Jeremy handed out bottles of water. He’d come better prepared than they had, and it shamed Kara a little. Logan was lamenting not having a flashlight. His phone battery had already died a while back, and Kara had slipped him hers.

  Halfway down the second hallway, Kara was dirty, sweaty and tired. Her lungs were full of dust. Her hands were disgusting.

  “Anything?” she asked Logan as they passed off the key for the umpteenth time.

  “Nada.”

  “Me neither. I was just thinking that—”

  A sudden scream tore through the hallway, loud and horrific. It stopped them both cold, forcing Kara to clutch Logan’s arm in confusion then alarm. It was even more horrifying as they realized the source of the screaming:

  Jeremy!

  Twenty-Seven

  Their companion was only one room ahead of them. Logan led the way as they sprinted forward through the next open door…

  They found Jeremy standing on the bed, eyes screwed shit, his hands over his ears. His flashlight was discarded on the floor. He was screaming, but he was also clutching his head like he was trying to block something out. Not sound though. Whatever he was trying to block out was coming from inside his head, and that part was terrifying.

  “What is it?” Kara called out. “Jeremy, tell us! What’s…”

  Her voice died in her throat as he turned toward them, slowly opening his eyes wider than any eyes had a right to be. Thinking back on it later, that was the part that haunted her the most: his gaze. Jeremy’s lids were so far apart it seemed impossible — his entire eyeballs showed. And then they moved. Shifted…

  What the fuck!

  Jeremy’s pupils darted left and right, scanning the room wildly. Controlled, but not controlled. Looking… but actually seeing the room as if he were experiencing it for the very first time.

  The first time in ages.

  It was a strange thought, but it was also the first one that had popped into Kara’s mind. And she’d learned long ago to trust her instincts.

  “What is he doing?” Logan was asking her. He was practically shaking Kara by the shoulders. “Have you seen him do this before? What’s wrong with him?”

  But Kara could only shake her head.

  “It’s not him.”

  The thing on the bed — the thing looking through Jeremy’s eyes right now — it definitely wasn’t Jeremy. Whatever it was was using him as a vessel, as a means to an end. Kara could feel it gazing outward, using his two living orbs as a window into the real world. The actual world. A stay of execution, however brief, from some muted realm of darkness.

  All at once Jeremy stopped screaming. He stared down at Kara and Logan for a moment, and snarled a single, ominous word.

  “NO.”

  Before they could stop him, he bolted from the room.

  “Where’s he—”

  Kara didn’t stick around for the rest of Logan’s sentence. She followed Jeremy out into the hallway, where he’d already fallen down in a crumpled heap against the side of one wall.

  “Jeremy!”

  He didn’t even turn to face her. Instead he got up, ran sideways some more, and slammed into the opposite wall. It reminded Kara of playing ‘dizzy bat’ back in high school, where they’d spin around in tight circles and then try to run a straight line.

  It’s like his first day with legs…

  Again, the idea sounded crazy but also sane. She followed as Jeremy sprinted deeper into the shadowy hallway. He almost reached the end, then turned and crashed into a door on the left side.

  The door held. He bounced off.

  “Jeremy stop!”

  She was almost on him when he tried again. Jeremy’s big frame shouldered the door, smashing the lock away from its ancient frame. The door swung open, flinging him inside.

  “JEREMY!”

  The room — number 334 — was pitch black. Kara’s flashlight swept frantically back and forth for a moment, through a violent swirl of dust. The room was larger than the others, and decorated a lot more fancily. Kara saw an array of vintage furniture with ornate finishes. Paintings, sculptures, even a pedestal vase. In the center was a large, four-poster bed. And on the wall a scrol
ling, decorative mirror…

  The mirror!

  It was the mirror from the hundred-year old photo. The Venetian one, mounted directly behind Rudolph Northrop.

  Jeremy was at the other end of the room. He picked up a chair. Held it high over his head…

  “Stop! STOP!”

  For a second Kara thought he would throw it at her. She cringed, one arm going up reflexively. Then she realized what he was about to do.

  “NO!”

  Jeremy swung his arms back, ready to hurl the intricately-carved chair. Not at her, but at the mirror itself.

  “JEREM—”

  She was knocked to her knees as something blurred past her. It took a half second before Kara knew what it was.

  Logan!

  Springing across the bed, Logan tackled Jeremy mid-swing. The chair crashed into the wall just beside the mirror, two of its legs folding in with a loud ‘SNAP’. It hit the floor at the same time the guys did, Jeremy twisting his body wildly, struggling to keep Logan from pinning him down.

  “Please,” Kara screamed. “Stop!”

  Jeremy was taller than Logan. Strong and wiry. He punched Logan hard in the jaw, landing a vicious uppercut as he was thrown off balance.

  Get them to stop!

  But Logan was broader, with thicker arms and a more powerful chest. He was also ex-military, having been recruited by the Order straight out of the Marines. Kara hadn’t met him until after that particular part of his life, but when it came to winning a fight she’d seen what he could do.

  Somehow Jeremy managed to get on top. His hands went around Logan’s neck, his long fingers squeezing down. Kara gave up shining the beam on them and ran over. She bounced the flashlight off the bed and the room was once again cast in shadow.

  By the time she got to them, the situation had flipped. Logan was still on his back, but now he had one corded arm locked around Jeremy from behind. The muscles in his forearm flexed, and Jeremy’s face went tight. His teeth gnashed together, his eyes still shifting left and right with lunatic abandon.

  Kara didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t sure who — if anyone — she should even assist. In the dim light she glanced around, wringing her hands helplessly. Reflexively she picked up one of the splintered legs of the broken chair and clutched it in both hands.

  “Both of you, STOP!” she screamed. “NOW!”

  Suddenly, Jeremy’s eyes changed. His whole face followed, his entire expression returning to normal as he struggled to understand where he was, what was happening to him. Lack of oxygen had turned him a shade of purple now. His eyes shot pleadingly to Kara.

  “LOGAN! LET GO OF HIM!”

  Tentatively, Logan relaxed his grip. At first just enough so that Jeremy could breathe, and then when he didn’t struggle, even more. Eventually he let go completely. Jeremy rolled off him, coughing, while Logan sprang to his feet.

  Kara was kneeling beside him in seconds.

  “A— Are you okay?”

  He coughed mightily, two or three times, then spat on the floor. Kara gave him a moment, then helped him up. He sat on the bed, chest heaving.

  “Yeah,” he said finally, rubbing at his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He stared up at Logan angrily. “W—Why the hell were you—”

  “You were possessed,” Logan cut him off. “Or something like that. You bolted from the other room and we ran after you. I tried to subdue you, and you attacked me.”

  Jeremy looked to Kara for confirmation. She nodded. “He’s right.”

  “Possessed?”

  “Taken over temporarily at the very least, yes,” said Kara. “Definitely. By whatever was in the—”

  “The other room,” Jeremy finished for her. His eyes scanned around at his new surroundings. “I was in 321, I think. I picked up a presence.” He seemed to shiver at the memory. “A bad presence, Kara. Something was wrong. Something…” his voice trailed off. “I was trying to commune. Opening myself up to whatever was there. And then…” he rubbed his head with one hand. “And then… I—I just don’t remember what happened.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” said Logan. “You went batshit crazy. You ran in here after breaking the door down and started wrecking this place. Breaking furniture and—”

  “No,” said Kara. They both looked at her.

  “What do you mean no?” scoffed Logan. “I was right here. I saw him—”

  “Not wrecking the room,” said Kara. “He ran down the hall with a destination in mind.” She gestured around. “He passed a bunch of other doors and came here. To this room. To wreck something specifically.”

  Logan had picked up the flashlight. He shined it down on the broken chair. “This stupid thing?”

  Kara swiped the flashlight away from him. “No,” she said. “Not the chair.” She guided the beam directly onto the surface of the ornate Venetian mirror.

  “That.”

  Twenty-Eight

  They stared at the mirror while she swept her beam over the rest of the hotel room. Kara even ventured back into the previous room to retrieve Jeremy’s flashlight, then hurried back faster than she’d ever moved in her life.

  “That’s it,” Jeremy agreed. He and Logan were staring down at the picture on his phone. “This is definitely the mirror hanging in the background of Northrop’s ceremony.”

  “And it’s the mirror you tried to break,” Kara added. “When you were… uh, taken over by whatever forces compelled you to come here?”

  She sounded unsure. Actually she was unsure. Twice in the past Kara had seen Jeremy commune with spirits, not including the footage taken in Estonia. He’d never channeled before. And this was way past channeling.

  “It was a force,” Jeremy agreed, “but it was also a person. Or at least, it was a person. A long time ago.”

  They stared at the old silvered mirror for a long while. Other than sporting a really fancy Venetian frame, it seemed ordinary in every aspect. Until…

  “What’s that?” asked Logan. He pointed, and Jeremy leaned in.

  “What?”

  “Right there. In the back of the mirror.”

  It took a moment, but then Kara saw it too. There was something moving in the mirror. Like a light, pulsing. Slowing glowing brighter and then fading away.

  “It’s a red light,” said Jeremy.

  “Orange,” Kara corrected him.

  The light pulsed again. It was barely visible. If there hadn’t been others who saw the same thing, Kara would’ve thought it to be a trick of the light.

  “Maybe it’s a trick of the light,” said Logan. “Turn off your flashlights.”

  Kara shook her head. “No thanks.”

  They stared some more. The light glimmered, dimmed, and then faded to nothing. A full minute went by. There was nothing else there.

  Logan blinked and took a step back. “So this is the room from the photo?” he asked. “Northrop performed his ceremony right here, in front of this mirror?”

  “Apparently,” said Jeremy.

  Still, Kara wasn’t so sure. The wall the mirror hung on just didn’t seem right. And there were no signs of the twin bookcases. In fact, the room had no bookcases at all.

  She peered into the mirror one last time and saw nothing. Her hands went to her hips.

  “We need to stay here,” she said. “Maybe for the night.”

  No one argued.

  “Not tonight though,” she added. “It’s too late. Plus, Jeremy just got pretty rattled. Better to rest up and—”

  “Hey, don’t put it on me,” said Jeremy. “Other than a headache, I feel fine.”

  In the end though, they agreed to head back. They’d been searching for hours, and everyone was dirty and tired. Plus, their lungs had had more than their fill of dust.

  “Tomorrow,” said Kara. “We’ll set up some equipment. We’ll bring more lighting too, and be ready for whatever happens.”

  “Might need to tie this one down,” said Logan. He nodded toward Jeremy. “So he doesn�
�t go all rock star on us again.”

  Kara smirked wryly. “I’m pretty sure he just got caught off guard.” She looked at Jeremy and winked. “He’ll be prepared next time.”

  Jeremy nodded. “I opened my mind too wide, allowed myself to be too susceptible,” he admitted. “Won’t happen again.”

  It was hot again. Crazy hot.

  Kara flip-flopped in her bed, trying her level best to clear her mind. Part of her wanted to strip the covers entirely, and sleep in the nude. The other half needed some kind of sheet or blanket to pull up just in case the wailing woman returned again.

  I should’ve let Jeremy stay here on the couch, she thought to herself. He’d certainly offered. There was a decent chance he’d be able to communicate with the spirit if she showed up. But there was also the chance that—

  KNOCK KNOCK.

  Kara was already down to her underwear. She crossed the floor holding one of the pillows over her body, then called through the door.

  ‘Who is it?”

  “Who else would it be?” a voice hissed back. “It’s me. Logan.”

  She opened the door, but only a crack. “What is it?”

  Logan stood in the hallway with an almost boyish grin. He had two or three days of stubble now, and he scratched it as he talked.

  “C’mon. Let me in.”

  She wanted to. It would’ve been easy. His shoulders arched to a perfect ‘V’ from his square jaw. His big arms were already straining against his too-tight T-shirt…

  At the same time, the guilt she’d feel in the morning would be just another distraction. And right now Kara needed to stay focused. To finish her assignment in the strongest way possible, and get the hell out of this place.

  “Logan, I want to sleep alone tonight,” she told him.

  “That’s not what you said last night,” he reminded her not-so-subtly.

  “Yeah, well last night was a mistake.”

  Logan only smirked at her. “And the night before?”

  Kara’s expression went sour. “An even bigger mistake.”