"Do you think we'll get Theodore? Or maybe even Florence?" Cheyenne chattered excitedly as she jimmied the door open. Catching it before it could slam, she stepped over the threshold, ducking under the tape meant to block our way.
I shrugged, following her inside, and taking the bag from Maddix, so he could get in without falling over, I sighed. "Why don't we start small? Maybe Rory Haggard."
"Who?" Both blinked owlishly at me.
"Rory Haggard. The patient from the 1980s..."
Cheyenne rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "He overdosed on pills. Why would he be around?"
Shutting the door behind us, I glanced to a shimmering on the stairs. Rory sat. His eyes like daggers, but there was a determined set to his lip. Back in his straitjacket, he bowed his head, ducking my gaze though the rest of his posture remained the same.
Facing my classmates, I shrugged. "Just a feeling..."
Maddix's brows furrowed. He seemed to look right into my soul before pulling the board from his bag. "Not like we're gonna refuse whoever comes around."
"Yeah, but it's always nicer if we can invite them around," Cheyenne argued, but with a huff, she grabbed a blanket out from the bag, setting it on the dust and dirt covered shag rug. "Let's see who answers." Kneeling down, we gathered around the board, and feeling like a fool, I set my fingers down, praying that this would work. Six fingers - a pointer from each of our hands - settled on the indicator. "Remember," she declared, "keep your fingers on it until we say goodbye. We don’t want to have anybody following us out of here." Cheyenne tilted her chin up, staring into space as she declared, "Is there anyone here?"
"That's it? Should we say hello or something first," Maddix asked, but Rory stood in the gap between the guy and Cheyenne.
Stretching his bare foot, he settled it on top of the indicator and with a determined scowl upon his face, he gave a sharp tug. Cheyenne and Maddix cried out in surprise, and even Rory's jaw dropped as the indicator moved, falling firmly on YES.
"Oh my god," Maddix moved to rear back, but Cheyenne hissed, "Keep your fingers on it until we say goodbye!"
"You're not screwing with me, right?" he asked.
Cheyenne snorted. "Shut up, Maddix. Sorry about that...could you tell us your name?"
Cautiously, Rory settled his foot down once more, slowly drawing out the letters of his name as Maddix and Cheyenne called them out in unison: "R....O....R...Y....Rory?"
They both looked up toward me. Cheyenne huffed, "You better not be messing with us, James."
"I'm not," I grumbled.
Already, Rory moved the indicator, spelling out as rapidly as he could. The words forming with a growing fury - "This is working. How is this working? The manor must be getting ready for the cycle to repeat. Like the veil is thin."
"What are you talking about?" Cheyenne demanded. "What cycle?"
Rory's mouth opened. His eyes met mine, but right as he moved to speak, arms reached out of the emptiness behind him, and he flew back, vanishing once more into nothing. In his place, a tired looking middle-aged man came.
Dark brown eyes watched us, half-lidded. A similarly dark beard covered his face with only the first few curls of gray scattered there and in his slicked back hair. After seeing him swirling - lit in yellow fire and whirling like a Van Gogh - this was the first time I had seen Dr. Ose in his full form. From the gauntness of his cheeks to the ever present smile which bordered on menacing as he shifted his attention from Maddix to Cheyenne before landing squarely on me, he embodied a cinematic villainy.
"Why'd it stop?" Cheyenne muttered.
Her eyes leapt about as if she might be able to see the ghost to whom we spoke, but when Dr. Ose knelt, reaching out with his pale fingers to move the indicator, every instinct in me screamed like a cornered animal. I wanted to run. But Cheyenne had said to hold fast until we said our goodbye, so I forced myself to free, fighting against the panic rising inside my mind.
Slowly, Ose moved us. "The Solstice," the bastard lied. "The closer it gets, the thinner the line between life and death."
"He's lying," I growled.
Maddix frowned. "Why would Rory lie?"
"Don't talk like he's not in the room," Cheyenne scolded. Searching above the board, she called out softly, "Sorry these guys are being idiots, Rory."
"It's not Rory," I informed them, but they looked at me in disbelief as Ose's lips quirked into a smirk.
"No apologies needed," the murderous ghost spelled out. "What are your names?"
Names had powered, didn't they? But Ose wasn't a fairy or something. He didn't have power outside the house, did he? But he had Dr. Carreau - who apparently had decided to haunt my dorm room, and I couldn't be sure the other doctor hadn't followed us to the manor, so what was I supposed to do? They didn't see what I saw. Both of them believed it was Rory talking. What was I supposed to do?
"I'm Cheyenne, and this is Maddix," she announced to the room before glaring at me. "And that one is James."
"He knows. We've met," I spat.
Maddix blinked. "What?"
"Met him?" Cheyenne repeated, and Ose laughed - slimy and slick as oil - as I realized my mistake.
"I can see ghosts. That's why I got interested in Theodore Thompson." The lie came out so easily. God, I never wanted to get good at this, but what choice did I have. Silence only ever went so far, and eventually people ask questions, so I knew how to lie. Knew how to bend the truth, and I wasn't about to do anything less than everything to fight against Ose. "I can see him. He's not Rory. He overpowered Rory and is lying to you."
"Rather perfect, don't you think? Making a claim no one else can disprove," Ose spelled, forcing our hands this way and that - making us puppets.
"James, that's not funny..." Maddix murmured. His eyes jumped from the indicator to me to Ose, following the line of my glower. "I think we should stop."
Glaring between us, Cheyenne hissed, "If he's not Rory, who is he?"
"Yes, James," a voice whispered in my ear. Hands slid over my shoulders, and Dr. Carreau leaned against my back, whispering in my ear, "Who is he?"
Surrounded - all eyes on me. The words slithered back down my throat. When had the lights grown so dim? I couldn't do it. Couldn't sit there, pretending nothing was wrong when we were getting exactly the two ghosts I didn't want. I just wanted to talk to Gray. Wanted to see him. Ached to be with him again, but Carreau pressed firm against me, and Ose stood, looming as Cheyenne and Maddix waited for me to answer.
A light flashed over us, and Maddix screamed, rearing back from the board. "We're going to die!"
"You idiot! You broke contact!" Cheyenne yelled, but the ghosts both dissipated in that moment. Vanishing just like Rory, and I could breathe again.
"Wow. So this is how you three decided to waste your evening," Chad scoffed, dragging his flashlight across the three of us. "Don't tell me you seriously believe in ghosts, James. I get those two idiots, but I bet Alexander good money your issues were repression."
"What. The. Hell!" Cheyenne leapt to her feet, whirling on Chad with such murderous rage that both Maddix and I flinched back. "What is your problem? Did you honestly stalk us here to - to make fun of us? You're such a pathetic grade school bully, Chad. Grow up!"
Rolling his eyes, Chad held up a cylinder of paper. "The office here has a more thorough picture of the original floor plan than I could find online."
Cheyenne gaped. "You're kidding."
"This one has markings that match up with some photographs I found online of the criminal investigation into the massacre." Which apparently should have been more impressive than it sounded when he added, "Do you know how weird it must have been for them to waste time photographing it back then?"
"Late 1800s - yeah, weird photos, so...we done here?" I asked, standing up and backing away from that stupid board. My whole body itched, and a chill settled inside me which I couldn't fight off.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Waking up in Mrs. Hay
ward's kitchen was like being rocked to sleep. Soft and gentle - slow in a way where the slicing of vegetables, which could have been a horrifying chop, became a methodical whisper. Soothing and made all the better for the salty, savory aroma of some kind of broth. Always the same meal. Same vegetables cut over and over again. The afterlife had to be a boring place to eat, or maybe - as far as Mrs. Hayward perceived - I just popped in and out in the same few seconds of the same day.
If she had been as unaware of her death as Gray, perhaps she would have thought of me as the strange narcoleptic boarder who randomly collapsed and awoke in her kitchen.
Pushing myself up, I ran my hands through my hair. The symbols. I needed an answer for the symbols on Chad's map. They congregated in the basement. While Chad could check out all the books, hoarding them in his room, the old plates for the investigation photographs couldn't leave the library, so while finding them had been labor-intensive, I had prints now.
And they weren't particularly pretty. An old couple, their second son, and a half dozen random relatives massacred, and while the investigators attributed it to a mass suicide, there were symbols carved into the second son's body - the brother-in-law of the Governess. The one who needed to be sacrificed after his brother's death failed. And the only one I could talk to was Mrs. Hayward. The Governess continued to kick me out of the manor whenever she came around, so I couldn't interrogate her. Not on this.
"Mrs. Hayward..."
She hummed softly. "Yes?"
"The Governess - her husband's family, were you still alive when they died in the basement?" I asked.
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. "Of course, lovey. Nasty business. Served them right, though. Dying so far from God. If you're curious, you could go see them - they should still be down there. They can't move around, but you might get some answers out of them. My George always said - never die low. There's some sound advice if I ever had any."
That static white noise of a broken television echoed through my brain after she spoke, and no matter how I turned the dial, I couldn't say anything more productive than: "What?"
"Oh yes, all of that nasty business - it's their doing that poor Teddy is trapped like he is. Bless Florence for bringing him to the widow's watch. If he died on another floor, who knows if we could have kept him safe this long," Mrs. Hayward explained. "The doctors died on the second floor - but Dr. Ose seems to be able to anchor Dr. Carreau - allowing him to wander further than he should. I swear - they could talk the Devil into a knot."
"How is that..."
"Further from the altar - or something like that." She waved a hand, dismissing my question to continue her tirade. "I died on the first, so I can move about, but I'm rather tied to this room. Not that I mind. Spent most of my days here anyway, lovey, and when the time comes, I suspect there's a kitchen in Heaven with my name on it."
"What about Rory?"
"Hmm? Oh, poor doll, died on the third floor."
As if he could hear us speaking about him, a scream echoed, rattling the boards above our head. The happy cheery kitchen flashed like lightning struck, and Mrs. Hayward vanished. Torn curtains hung on the windows. Shattered glass in rotting frames left the whole floor a sprawl of tiny crystal points. Smoke rose from the oven. Wind ripped through the room, and the screams continued. The door to the kitchen hung off its hinges. Dust drifted down with each rattling of thunderous steps, rumbling and rolling. I could almost see Rory struggling, stumbling and smashing into walls before he fell, whirling on the floor until he could find his way back to his feet.
Something pulled - my stomach ached, itching as something anchored its way inside of me, throwing me this way and that as the world swirled around me. Until - with a gasp - I awoke with arms around me, and a weight against my chest. Dark hair - beautiful and familiar with a small nose and familiar long lashes.
"It's just a nightmare," Gray whispered, shifting to stare up at me with his large beautiful eyes. "Go back to sleep."
My heart skipped a beat. I could feel it. The lurch as I studied his face - how long had it been? Beautiful. Shit, I missed him. Cupping his jaw, I caressed his soft skin with my thumb. With a smile, he leaned, pressing into my touch, and I couldn't bear it.
"I love you."
His lips parted into the most gentle smile I had ever seen. Pushing up, he pressed a delicate kiss to my lips. "Love you too."
Nothing in my life had ever been as soft as this. We curled around each other. Entwined as sleep rocked me down - until my mind caught up with my body.
"Gray!" Sitting up, I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to wake and meet my gaze. "If I'm not here, you need to know - I'm coming for you."
His brows furrowed. "Where would you be?" A glimmer of black at my ankle pushed me to move faster. Tugging up the fabric, I showed off the new tattoos on my leg. Eyes widening, he gasped. "James - what? How?" Tentatively, he reached forward, brushing the tips of his fingers against my skin. "Rory had these - he...in pen...he drew them on his skin, but they-they burned off.."
One-two - no, no - no. She couldn't come yet. I need more time.
"Because he was trying to save you, and I'm going to do it," I exclaimed, reaching for him. Part of me expected him to pull away, but he threw himself forward, nuzzling into my neck as he curled against me. "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."
One-two - not yet. I hadn't had him in my arms long enough. I need him. Gray and I - we deserved time.
But the world rippled, my lungs squeezed - too large in my too small chest as I woke, cold sweat gathered on my brow as I stared at the dark shadows playing over Tom's bed. At first, I wanted it to be my mind. Too many late nights and days spent with ghosts had me seeing them everywhere, and even with Tom back, the room felt too wide - too big without Rory around.
However, a dark form stretched above him. Crowding closer and closer. The form screamed its name to me - Dr. Carreau. He loomed. His dark form curling over my roommate as he slept. My mouth went dry.
"Tom..."
He snuffled into his pillow.
The shadow coalesced. Carreau grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat.
"Hey...Tom?" I called, sitting up, but he only murmured in his sleep.
Lunging across the room, I reached out to smack the phantom away, but Tom's eyes opened, leaving me to almost slap him instead.
"Shit!" He rolled back to the far side of his bed. "Crap, man!"
"Sorry, you were - " Excuse. I needed an excuse. "You look like you were having a nightmare."
Snorting, he cuddled back up in bed. "Sure. Man - you sure you weren't having another nightmare yourself?"
"Maybe - sorry about that," I murmured, shuffling back to bed.
And like the amazing roommate he was, Tom just laughed. "Seriously, you must've been going stir crazy all alone in this room."
Curled up, I could only agree. For now, though, the shadow of Carreau had dissipated, but the doctor hung over the room - not thick and noxious like Ose, but with an oily slick presence which coated my skin, leaving me hyper-aware - sweating and calm-panicked. Purposeful adrenaline.
Just three more weeks. I could do it. Just three more weeks.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wake up. Go to class. Counting down the moments until I could sleep - and not see Gray again - only to start over. Because why would I want to see the man I fell in love with? The one who inspired me to cover my body in tattoos that I couldn’t appropriately explain to my parents - not that I ever intended to go back home after I finally had the man of my dreams - literal dreams - in my arms, but the closer the day came, the darker the circles became under my eyes. The less food seemed appetizing. All I wanted was Gray.
His dark hair and bright eyes - the slight upturn of his lips to the left whenever I remembered something he had told me before - no matter how small it seemed. The blush - pale pink that flushed dark across his pale skin - whenever we touched accidentally. Brushing our fingers together. Our shoulders. The contented sigh wh
en I curled around him or when he settled, nuzzling into my shoulder. Soft and so vulnerable. Or the smirk - honestly, any of his expressions, or the stubborn and cocky way he stood his ground, never letting me take the lazy way out. Keeping me honest. Keeping me grounded when he should have been the least grounding presence in my life. A ghost, and yet my best essays came from spitballing ideas with him. My calmest nights had him in my arms, or his fingers combing through my hair. I ached to do nothing else.
Instead, I wake up, shower and dress to deal with the social niceties. Because Gray cared about those too. If he ever popped up, I wanted to leave a good impression. The gaps hurt. Long and difficult and horrifying in a way that no distance had any right to be.
"Hey," Tom greeted, sliding into a seat beside me. "Dude, you missed breakfast."
I shrugged. "I’ll grab brunch or whatever after this."
His eyes narrowed, but it was Tom. Tom didn’t ask hard questions. Not really. He poked, but then he backed off. Because he was an awesome roommate, and he understood I was - weird. Or something like that.
"Here." Sliding a bagel and orange over to me, Tom proved he was a better friend than I deserved.
"Thanks, man. I owe you."
Tom rolled his eyes. "You owe me so freaking much." His lips twisted into a sly grin. "But, I think I know how you can finally start catching up."
He wanted something from me. Probably nothing big. This was Tom. Last time, I ended up finding myself in Crables Manor on a murder tour. Odds weren’t bad that this time would end better. Or at least less emotional. Not like I could realize my dream boyfriend was a real ghost a second time.
Ripping off a chunk of bagel, I told him: "Sure, what do you need?"
"This Saturday - I need a second guy for a double date. You in?"
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