The Hauntings Of Sugar Hill: The Complete Series

by M. L. Bullock

  “Great,” I whispered.

  Another door on the second floor, farther away, now slammed shut. Someone was trying to avoid us—or lure us onward. I had a suspicion that it was a dead someone and not a member of the housekeeping staff.

  Together the three of us started walking up the stairs, and I began preparing myself for what we might find. “It could be one of the housekeepers. Dinah pretty much does whatever the hell she wants. I never know where she’s going to turn up.”

  Megan paused on the steps. “Are you saying you don’t want us to go up there? We don’t have to. We just want to help.”

  “No. Let’s do this.”

  As we reached the top of the wide wooden staircase, she stopped and peered into the darkness. “Jessica, what are you feeling? Anything?” Her voice sounded confident, and I took comfort in that.

  “Not much yet. What about you, Avery?”

  “Yes…someone is here, but I don’t know who.”

  “Are you okay to move forward?” Jessica handed me a flashlight. I pushed the rubber button on the end and shined the bright LED light in front of me.

  “I’m ready. I think it’s coming from the Angel Gallery. Let’s go.” I took a deep breath and flicked off the hall light.

  It was now or never.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Summer Dufresne

  “Make a choice, Summer,” Danforth’s voice boomed through the phone. “You either get rid of her now or you don’t. Let me just make you aware of what’s at stake here. If you don’t get her out of the way tonight, you’ll never have our support again. This was your idea, and now it’s time to deliver. I’m putting my neck on the line for you—for the family. Show us you are the true Matrone. Get rid of her!” I’d hung up the phone without answering him. What else was there to say?

  I tapped on the steering wheel nervously, wondering what the hell to do next. If I called Reed I’d have to explain to him how I’d lobbied the board for a vote of no confidence in Avery. How in the beginning I wanted to take what was mine!

  Until I got to know Avery. Until I believed in her. Until I knew exactly what it would cost to change the status quo. I wasn’t willing to pay the price, was I?

  Yes, I still dreamed of Ambrose and wanted him, wanted to be his, even though he had not chosen me—I wanted that more than my next breath. But not enough to murder.

  With no plan, I decided to follow my instincts. I’d go to the Ramparts. I’d talk to Becker; maybe somehow I could convince him to do the dirty work for me.

  You can’t do that, Summer! You’d still be guilty!

  It was as if Aunt Anne were in the car with me. I grabbed my flashlight and scurried down the well-hidden path that would lead me to the My Haunted Plantation crew. I couldn’t explain it, but I had to go. I had to be there. I lied to myself and said it was because of Becker, but that wasn’t it. Not in the least. It was because Ambrose was going to be there. And I needed to know why. Why had he rejected me? Why had he cast me aside for Avery?

  A day of reckoning was coming to Ambrose. He must pay for what he’d done.

  Yes, what he’s done to us all, Summer. He is an evil man to love us and leave us so.

  I paused on the sandy pathway. Who said that? Why was I hearing a woman’s voice out here? And how did she know my name?

  “Hello?” I called, half expecting someone to answer.

  “Hey, Summer! We’re over here.”

  I saw Becker down the path a bit, and I jogged toward him. I glanced over my shoulder once but saw nothing. No women stalking me and calling me by name.

  “Thought you’d changed your mind. It’s really good of you to come out and offer your insights. It’s going to help us a lot. I am glad I suggested it—and if you don’t mind too much, could you mention that to Mike? I’d like him to know that this was my idea. It’ll give me a little street cred.”

  “What?” I asked, staring up at him.

  “Are you okay? Did you get stoned on the way here or something? You look out of it.”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I’m hearing voices. Someone called my name.”

  “That’s cool. Let me get my audio recorder. Maybe we can pick it up again.”

  “No, let’s go to the Ramparts. I have to see him—I mean see the place.”

  “All right, we’ve had some action already. Camera Three picked up a strange fire burst that came up from the ground. We’ve checked it out, and it’s not gas or anything flammable. Just good old air around here.”

  “Yeah, fire bursts are bad.” I wore my Keds, blue jeans and a thick jacket, but I was still freaking cold. “Put your arm around me, Becker. I’m freezing.”

  “Sure, but I have to warn you, you’re putting yourself in danger. Doing it in the woods is on my bucket list.”

  I stopped walking and waved my flashlight in his face. No, he wasn’t Ambrose, no trace of him there. “I’m sorry to tell you that you are out of luck tonight. I’m not here just to give an interview. I am hoping you can help me reach out to one particular ghost. His name is Ambrose. He died in the Ramparts fire about two hundred years ago.”

  He smiled playfully. “Oh, so that’s who you were dreaming about last night. And I was jealous of a ghost. What a dumbass!”

  I didn’t joke around with him but just kept walking. Soon I could see the lights of the black MHP van in the distance. We were getting close. Then suddenly Handsome Cheever stepped out into the pathway, his hat pulled down so far over his eyes that I was surprised he could see us at all.

  “Don’t go, Miss Summer. Don’t go, please.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Handsome. Get lost.”

  “I know what you’re going to do, and it won’t work. He won’t take you; he’s already chosen Avery. You have to let him go, ma’am, or he is going to kill you. Kill you dead.”

  “What?” Becker shook his head. “Who’s going to kill Summer? I’ll kick his ass!”

  “You ain’t kickin’ no ghost’s ass. He’ll kill you dead too just for messin’ with him. He’s an old ghost, and he’s been around these parts for a long time. Now what you got in that bag, Miss Summer?”

  “Never you mind, Handsome! Now get out of the way!” I pushed his shoulder, but he barely moved. I slipped by him and continued toward my destination. Wherever that was. I walked past the MHP van with Becker running behind me.

  Becker shouted, “Get the equipment, Mike, and come with me! She’s going to do something crazy!” Mike grabbed bags of gear and followed us as I walked down the narrow path to the center of the Ramparts.

  Then I saw her. There was no doubt she was a ghost. To my surprise, she looked like me. She had long blond hair that fell in curls. She had a trim figure, which I could see quite clearly under that fluttering white dress. I think Becker saw her too because he gasped and began waving his K2 around.

  She spoke to my mind so only I could hear her. You want him to suffer too. He rejected you too! You know how it feels to be loved by Ambrose and have him take that love away. I could not have that. She stepped closer, and the smell of burning hair began to fill my nostrils. No, I could not have that at all. But I took care of it. He’ll never be with her now. No more Susanna for him. I did my part, Summer. Now it’s time you did yours. Suddenly the girl, Coquette—I knew her name as surely as I knew mine—changed. There was no more blond hair and soft white skin. No more white dress. She was burnt beyond belief, her hair melted to her skin, her nose and lips nonexistent, her burnt fingers twisted and her nude body swollen. I screamed and screamed again, falling backwards and scrambling away as she stepped toward me.

  “Don’t run from me. I am you and you are me. You must finish it, Summer. You must burn them all. Use it, use the lighter, burn them all!”

  “No! I won’t do it! I won’t murder anyone!” Suddenly Handsome stood beside me. He tossed a handful of salt on the burnt corpse, and she began to steam and melt away into the forest floor. She screamed from the pain
but never stopped reaching for me. Handsome tossed handful after handful of salt around me to protect me. I did as he told me and stayed in the circle until the place went still again.

  And it was still now. So still that I wondered if there was anything living here.

  Suddenly flames shot up from the ground. First one, then another. Coquette wasn’t through with us yet! The ghost fire burned invisible buildings on both sides of the street that appeared before me. I saw the world in the 1800s, and it was all on fire. Then I realized that somewhere in that world was Ambrose—he was alive, and if I wanted to be with him, now was the time. I would make him see I was right for him. He would not need anyone but me. I would be all things for him. And I would die to be with him.

  Just then, Handsome grabbed my shoulders. “You ain’t gonna die today. Miss Billie is singing hard over you. You ain’t going to die today! Be still, child. Be still. That desire will pass. It’s a kind of magic, a bad magic, from that ring you played with as a child. The ring cast a spell on you even though you wasn’t able to claim it. No, you have to renounce it.”

  “No! That would mean I would never…”

  “And you never will, Miss Summer. It’s not you he wants…”

  I cried and looked up into his eyes. I heard Becker talking, but I ignored him. He understood less than nothing. I didn’t have time to explain my life to him, nor did I want to. “What do I have to do?” It pained me to even ask the question.

  “Say these words and mean them with your heart: ‘I renounce you, Ambrose Dufresne….’”

  My lips trembled as I tried. “I renounce you…Ambrose Dufresne….” My heart was banging in my chest. I didn’t want to do this, but I trusted Handsome. I knew he would help me if he could.

  “…and I renounce the ring and its magic. I am not your wife or your soul mate. I am nothing to you but a distant relative.”

  I tearfully repeated the words, and suddenly Ambrose appeared. He wasn’t the fine, handsome young man I remembered but a corpse, a horrible-looking thing that I could never imagine desiring.

  “He is letting you see him for who he is because he wants you to be free, Summer. He wants you to be free.”

  I cried on Handsome’s chest and refused to look at Ambrose anymore. Finally, I felt the air warm and the stench dissipate.

  “Let’s go home now, Miss Dufresne. Miss Billie has stopped singing. She’s all done. All is well now. We will be safe, I promise you, we will be safe. At least for a while.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Avery Dufresne

  Jessica and Megan passed me protectively as another door slammed. Or was it the same door? It couldn’t be the door to the Mirror Room, which was already closed. But this door, it shut over and over again. It was farther away. Impossibly far.

  “Ambrose, are you here? We’re not here to harm you. We just want to talk. Avery wants to talk to you.” The three of us lingered in the hall, Megan waving her handheld scanner, the lights flashing from light green to deep green. Jessica had an audio device in her hand.

  Jessica whispered to me, “If he talks to us the light will flash. You can’t always hear spirit responses with the naked ear.” I didn’t care about the details. I just wanted to get this over with. I wanted it all over with. Maybe I should go back to Atlanta and just leave all this behind. But that was just a dream. I had to face this; I couldn’t run from it. I wore the ring.

  “Ambrose, if you are with us, just speak into this red light. We’ll be able to hear you…did you hear that?” The sound of retreating footsteps lured the investigators further down the hall. “It came from over here,” Jessica whispered. Apparently she hadn’t noticed that the door to the Mirror Room now stood open.

  And soft candlelight now fluttered enticingly from behind the door. At least I thought it was candlelight…

  My flashlight dimmed significantly and then went out completely. I heard Jessica say my name, but it was as if she were talking to me underwater. I couldn’t make it out.

  All I could do was walk toward the light…and then I saw him. Standing near the candle, with his hand on the shiny oak table, was Chase Dufresne. He extended his other hand to me…with all my heart, I accepted it.

  Susanna Serene Dufresne

  It had been a full three days since Chase showed up on the doorstep at Thorn Hill. His wound wasn’t as bad as Ingrid and I first believed, but even the doctor agreed that his blood loss remained a most serious concern.

  He had no visitors, except the sheriff who merely inquired about his status. The ugly little man even refused to come inside the house, discussing it all on the front porch. I told him what I knew. That I’d had no contact with Chase for nearly two years until this unwanted visit. Yes, he lived, but recovery would be a slow process.

  Thankfully no one else came by to ask after him. Ambrose stayed away, and the town was abuzz with the scandal. That first night, I watched my husband’s pale sleeping face until the wee hours of the morning. This was the face of the man who had rejected me, who had shamed me before his friends—and his second wife. Here was the man who would not claim me but also would not let me go. Chase had done even worse than that. He left our daughter with Etienne. Even if he hated me with all his being, he should have cared for her.

  “How could I ever have loved you?” He did not stir—he did not answer. And what would he say? Just the night before he’d begged for my forgiveness. Would I forgive him? In the beginning I said no, never. But after days of care and attention, and as my desperation rose, desperation to see him healed, I felt my heart of stone soften. And that I didn’t want. I began to sling down whiskey in between my ministrations. I’d abandoned my duties at my shop and most days sent Ingrid instead. And in all this time, Chase had awoken only once and was so fevered that he thought I was his sister, Regina.

  “Regina, dear. I knew you were not dead. I heard you calling me, but I couldn’t find you. I looked, sister. Where have you been? Regina?” I calmed him, and he fell asleep again, lost in his mad world. For the first time in so much longer than I could remember, I prayed fervently.

  Chase’s hair had grown darker; he wore it longer now. His dark blond sideburns made him appear older than he was—I knew he was a full two years younger than me. Gleaming from his neck was a golden chain and crucifix; it was a delicate Spanish working. I had given it to him as a wedding present. I touched it but withdrew my hand when he stirred. Eventually weariness overcame me and I fell asleep. For some reason I dreamed of Sulli and her wide eyes, her lips mouthing a secret I should have remembered but couldn’t. I woke to a light tapping on the guest room door. My back was stiff, and I was embarrassed to find that I had been lying across the corner of the bed. It was Ingrid, of course. She was up early, dressed neatly and holding a folded letter.

  “This came for you, Miss Susanna. The man who delivered it is waiting downstairs for your reply. I have seen him before; he stays with Coquette. One of her servants, he is. So you can guess who this is from.”

  I shoved the loose hairs from my face and accepted the paper. “Is there any coffee?”

  “Yes, I’ll bring you a cup before I leave. And the doctor is here, too, don’t forget.” She eyed my sloppy hair and untidy clothing. I didn’t care. My fingers trembled as I read the page.

  My Dearest Susanna,

  Why have you given shelter to our mutual enemy?

  It would have been a kindness to let him die when you found him, for if I return to Thorn Hill now I will certainly kill him with my bare hands. It is hard for me to imagine that you would wish such a thing, but it is the truth.

  I give you until sundown to remove my cousin from our home. Let us this settle things between us. Make your choice, madam.

  —A

  I didn’t go downstairs.

  “Ingrid,” I called after my friend, “please send the messenger away. I have no message to give.”

  With another frown—Ingrid frowned perpetually—she nodded and went downstairs. I went to my room
and changed my clothing. I didn’t bother with my hair except to pin the strands back away from my face. I planned to have an honest talk with the doctor about Chase’s condition and then prepare for Ambrose’s arrival. Even if it wasn’t today, I needed to know what to do and say when Ambrose did appear. From the tone of his letter, I could see that he assumed I was most pleased to have Chase come to the house, but that was not the truth.

  At least not in the beginning.

  By the time I dressed, it was a full half hour later. I could hear the doctor’s deep booming voice in Chase’s room. He was likely cleaning the wound, a painful procedure that required the application of whiskey to the wound to fight any infection. Chase screamed my name, and it was like a dagger shoved in my heart. I practically ran into the room and ordered the doctor out.

  “Susanna! Make him stop!” Chase was in tears. I could see that the fever had not yet completely left him, but the pain and was making him crazy. I took the bottle from the doctor and poured a glass of the whiskey for Chase.

  “Drink this! Don’t sip it. Drink it down. That’s good.” I filled the glass again, and he drank another shot. I turned to the doctor. “The next time you tend to his wounds, make sure he has taken his medicine first.”

  “Well, madam,” he said, “I suppose whiskey is a kind of medicine. I’ll do as you ask, Miss Susanna. My apologies, sir.”

  Chase nodded once and gritted his teeth as the man probed the wound. The doctor continued, “Good! That looks good! I’d say you have had some good care here, sir. Thank your lucky stars for that. If you’d been shot anywhere else, you might have been left for dead.”

  Chase closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. When he opened them again he looked me in my face fully. “And you aren’t a dream? You aren’t going to disappear? You’re not a ghost?”