Fire on the Ramparts (Sugar Hill Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  Unless my eyes were deceiving me—and they must have been—one of the lights of her candelabra flickered. I gasped in surprise and stepped closer, ignoring the increasing cold in the room. I stared even harder, but it didn’t happen again. I walked out of the room, refusing to look back in case I saw Susanna missing from the frame entirely and standing in the room in front of me. I didn’t feel that she’d hurt me, but things were very strange here.

  You could sense it in the air.

  It wasn’t empty; it was thick with the presence of something—no, someone.

  Yes, very strange indeed. Maybe I should turn around. Then I would see there was no one there. All was as it should be here in this strange house.

  Before I could muster the courage to challenge whatever lurked here, the phone in the front room rang. Like a scared rabbit, I flew to the phone and snatched it up like it was my last chance to talk to a living person.

  Maybe it was.

  Chapter Seven – Avery

  I fumbled with the receiver as I picked it up. “Yes? Yes? May I help you?”

  “Avery? Are you all right? You sound out of sorts.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” My hands were shaking, and so was my voice.

  “This is Reed.”

  “I knew that. Hi, Reed.”

  “Just making sure you got settled in. Everything okay at Thorn Hill? Would you like me to bring you something for dinner?”

  “Oh,” I said with a smile, “that’s so thoughtful, but I haven’t even thought of supper. Gee, what time is it?”

  He laughed softly. “It’s well past dinnertime. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, it’s just this house. I thought I heard someone running down the porch when I got here, but I must have imagined it.” And some other things.

  “I gave you fair warning about Thorn Hill. It has a definite ‘gothic’ vibe. Have you changed your mind, Avery? Do you want me to check around for a room?”

  “No way. It’s just that I thought someone was here. I have no doubt all will be well. I don’t need any rescuing, Reed. This is the modern era, you know.”

  “I don’t mean to come off as old-fashioned. I know you are no wilting flower. Thanks for being a good sport about all this. I wonder what the old girl was thinking when she wrote those ghost hunters. It’s really out of character for her. She did not like television much, so I doubt she watched a single episode of My Haunted Plantation. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  I got the distinct impression that Reed wasn’t being entirely sincere, but my nerves were too frayed to question him further. “Yes, you gave me fair warning. Well, I have to go. I haven’t even made it upstairs yet.”

  I heard another sound, coming from upstairs. It sounded like…laughter. A man’s laughter, deep but not humorous at all. And it was not of this world. I had heard it before—at Sugar Hill. Okay, how is that possible? Am I totally nutso now? Who ever heard of a ghost haunting two locations? My skin tingled, and I felt cold suddenly. “You know what, Reed? I would like something to eat. I am sure I can find some coffee or tea in the kitchen.”

  “Terrific! I’ll be there soon. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Wonderful. See you soon.”

  I left my bag at the bottom of the stairs, refusing to make the trip upstairs alone, and walked into the kitchen. Since the place was arranged like Sugar Hill, I took a guess at where to find everything. I put on a pot of coffee; I wouldn’t normally do that at this hour, but it seemed like a normal thing to do. I needed normal. I flipped on every light I could and even found a stereo in the dining room. I pushed play on the CD player; I couldn’t care less who the artist was. I just wanted some music to fill the air. I didn’t want to hear any more laughter or whispers or anything else. I breathed a sigh of relief. The music that poured out of the shiny black speakers was a lovely instrumental from some half-forgotten romance movie. It was moody but light, and I hummed along as I searched the cabinets for plates, forks, napkins and of course some good old normal coffee.

  I set the small breakfast table. No sense in eating in the big dining room if it was just the two of us. About the time I got everything settled and found a pretty candle to light, the doorbell rang. I was happy to see Reed’s face through the slit of glass in the big cedar door.

  “Hey!” I said as I opened the door. “Come on in.”

  “I hope you were in the mood for something simple. I grabbed us a muffuletta and some fries.”

  “Perfect. Let’s eat in the kitchen.”

  “Sure,” he said with a warm smile. He’d shed his fitted suit and dress shoes for a pair of blue jeans and a red polo shirt. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the shower—his dark hair was still wet, and he smelled like a million bucks. Awful nice of him to dress up for me when he didn’t have to.

  “Sorry,” I said, “I haven’t had a chance to change yet. It’s been crazy the past few hours. Those ghost hunters had things stirred up before I even left. I was ready to get out of there. Have you met that Jessica girl?”

  “What do you mean stirred up?” He paused his unpacking the bag of food.

  “I mean stirred up.” I didn’t really want to talk about it. Not yet.

  He didn’t push the issue. “You got any ketchup?”

  “Search me. I didn’t look around the kitchen much. I’m lucky I found the coffee.”

  He got up to find the ketchup and grabbed a few other things too. Apparently the house staff had left the kitchen pantry well stocked. That was good to know. By the time we finished our food, I was stuffed and in definite need of changing my clothes. How had I managed to get ketchup on my shirt? We laughed at the mess we made.

  “Wait! You can’t quit before dessert. I have beignets.” I had to admit having a few beignets to snack on would be the perfect way to end the meal. I’d already made a pig of myself. I dug through the bags, convinced he was hiding them from me. “Where did you put them?”

  He tied on an apron and began pouring a box of ingredients into a bowl. “This is the best kind. You make them, you don’t buy them.”

  “No, I can’t ask you to cook for me.” I frowned at him. This seemed wrong all of a sudden. Was he just being polite, or did he think this was some kind of date? Growing up with no family, no cousins, I wasn’t sure what the protocol was here. I opened my mouth to ask, unsure how I’d form the sentences without hurting him, but the doorbell interrupted me. I left him to heat up the grease and roll out the dough. Sweet mood music continued in the dining room. I decided to shut it off.

  I walked to the front door and sure enough, it was Jamie Richards. He waved at me, and I couldn’t resist hugging him as soon as I opened the door. “I am so happy to see you, detective!”

  “None of that ‘detective’ nonsense,” he said with a small smile. “Tonight I’m just Jamie. Hey, what smells so good?”

  I gave him a sheepish look and whispered, “Reed’s here. He’s making beignets.”

  “Ooh…perfect timing, then. I’m starving.” We stood awkwardly for a moment. It seemed like he wasn’t sure whether to hug me or kiss me, so I decided to take the lead. I kissed him and took his hand, leading him into the delicious-smelling kitchen. The men greeted one another like they were best friends even though they’d only met a couple of times.

  “How’s it going, detective? Atlanta PD been keeping you busy?”

  “You know it, but I’m hoping that will change soon.”

  “How’s that?” Reed asked as he nudged a beignet around the pan.

  “You want some coffee?” I asked Jamie.

  “Sounds great. I’ll take it black, please.” He turned back to Reed and said, “I’m thinking of taking some time off soon. I’ve had some other opportunities come up. Might mean moving closer to you all.”

  “Really? You ought to think about Mobile. They’ve got a top-notch department with a new police chief. I hear he’s looking for a few good detectives. Might be worth looking into.”

  “Tha
nks.” Jamie accepted the mug of hot coffee and blew across the top of it before taking a sip. “Funny you should say that.” He smiled at me and continued, “I guess I should have mentioned this to you before, but I’ve applied for a position here in Mobile County. I won’t know anything until later this week. But I’d like to get out of the city, and I’ve kind of fallen in love with the area here.” His handsome face reddened.

  “Good for you,” I said. I didn’t want to rush our relationship, and I hoped he didn’t either, but I liked the idea of him being closer. Reed seemed happy about it, to his credit, and promised to check in on the matter.

  “Don’t go to any trouble, Reed. I’m happy to see how it plays out.”

  “It’s no trouble, but if you don’t want me to mention it to Chief Harper, I won’t.”

  “Thanks.” Jamie looked at me. “Are you okay? You seem kind of quiet.”

  “Oh, it’s been a day. But yeah, I’m great.”

  The two guys shot the breeze a little longer while Reed finished frying the beignets. When he was done, he tossed them in confectioners’ sugar and put the plate in front of us.

  “Here you go, folks.” He removed his apron and tossed it on the counter. I wondered if he intended for me to clean this mess up. “The housekeeper will take care of this, Avery. So don’t worry over it. I’ve got to go—I had no idea it had gotten so late.”

  “We would love to visit with you some more. You sure you can’t stay?” I asked hopefully. Everything seemed normal with Reed here.

  “You know what the French say, ‘Three is a crowd.’”

  I shook my head and chuckled. “I’d guess that is exactly the opposite of what the French say, but point taken. Nobody likes to be the third wheel, although you aren’t. At least let me return the favor. Come have some breakfast with me in the morning. Say about nine?”

  “You twisted my arm.” He kissed my cheek and patted Jamie on the back. “Got to go. See you then.” We followed him to the front door. Before he turned to leave, he looked at Jamie and said, “Take care of her.”

  Jamie’s light brown eyes widened as he nodded.

  “Excuse me, you two,” I said, “I’ll have you know I have a gun. And I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “Good. In that case, you take care of him. Good night to you both.”

  I shut the door and locked it. Jamie was rubbing my shoulders, and I didn’t pull away.

  “You know, I was just thinking how I would like to kiss your neck. I don’t think I’ve done that yet.”

  I turned around and slid my arms around his neck. “Were you?”

  “Yes, I was. Would you mind?” In a whisper he said, “All I could think about on the way here was you, kissing you, holding you…being with you. What about you? Have you thought about me, Avery?”

  “Well… I…” Before I could give him my answer, something upstairs crashed so loudly that it reverberated through my body.

  “What the hell was that? Sounded like a chandelier or something! Anyone else here?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Stay here while I go up.”

  “Not on your life, buddy.” I dug in my purse and grabbed my gun. He slid his out from his shoulder holster. We ran up the stairs, my heart beating fast, my hands as sweaty as they could be. I hoped I didn’t drop the gun. At least the safety was on. “Hey! If you’re up here, show yourself! You’ve got to the count of three!” Jamie called in his cop voice. His big arms tensed as he leaned against the wall and swung out to face whoever was in the hall. He had waved me back, so I stayed in place.

  “Who are you? I can see you!”

  Jamie’s voice sounded different; was that fear I heard?

  “Who is it, Jamie?” He didn’t answer right away, and before he could, a loud pop took out the lights. The two of us stood in the dark on the second floor.

  I whispered, “There are lanterns in the kitchen. I saw them in the pantry.”

  “Okay, so let’s take it nice and slow. Step back slowly. Careful going down the stairs.”

  “You saw someone didn’t you, Jamie?”

  “Avery, do as I say. Walk down the stairs. I’m right with you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I felt my skin crawling as I walked down the stairs slowly. It was totally black in here. If I could get to my cell phone in the kitchen, we’d be okay. With that thought, I turned to feel my way into the kitchen.

  And I did indeed feel something. Or someone.

  Chapter Eight – Jessica Chesterfield

  “I can’t believe this. We’ve been here for hours with nothing to show for it. Not even a flicker on a REM pod.” Megan cracked her gum, a clear indication that she was ticked off at the ghosts of Sugar Hill. “Is this a joke?”

  “Are the REM pods on? Is this a battery drain?” Becker sounded hopeful. If that were true, it would at least mean we had some activity, even if it was negative activity. Battery drains often accompanied the manifestation of negative entities. At least that’s what we’d experienced. They seemed to draw energy from power sources like batteries and electromagnetic fields.

  “Can’t be battery drain,” Megan said, chewing her gum even faster. “They are working fine. Look on the monitors. I’ve got six cameras up, and there’s nothing. Not even the odd shadow creature. Not battery loss. So far, we’ve got nothing. I thought this was the hottest spot in the county, Mike.”

  Mike was the boss, or at least the field boss. He didn’t say much but stared at the cameras intently. He was a true believer, but he liked to pretend he was a skeptic. That was the only way he could successfully pitch the show. The people at the Paranormal Channel had enough programming featuring the proponents of the paranormal. They wanted to present opposing viewpoints, and that was where My Haunted Plantation came into play. We were supposed to be disproving these hauntings.

  “What do you think, Jess?” Mike glanced up at me.

  I crossed my arms and chewed on my lip as I stared at the camera feeds. “Oh, the ghosts are here, all right. They’re just hiding from us.” I stared at Camera Three. It was in the basement, my least favorite location in the rambling old house. My brother used to say, “This place has bad vibes.” And Sugar Hill did. Something sinister lingered there and wanted to remain undetected. It liked being alone. I felt my spine tingle, as if someone had poured ice water down my back.

  Megan stopped chewing her gum and reached for a walkie-talkie. “Well, let’s shake things up, chickie. I’m going in. You coming?” She slid the radio on her hip and straightened her black MHP hat. Megan was taller than me and had way more curves. She didn’t have a problem hamming up our hunts for the camera while I preferred to hang out in the background. I liked the way we worked together. She treated me with respect, at least on camera. She listened to what I had to say, but she was one to make up her own mind about things. That’s how she rolled, as she told me time and time again.

  “Yep.” Mike handed me a digital recorder and said, “Why don’t you guys start in the basement?” My eyes widened at the prospect as I nodded. Mike never talked much about his superpowers of ghost detection, but I suspected he had them. “And don’t forget to wait a few seconds between questions, Megan.”

  “Then let Jessica ask the questions this time.” She rolled her eyes and tossed her gum in the small garbage can. Once upon a time, Megan and Mike had a thing, but the red-hot flames of that relationship had died out over the summer. We typically took summers off and did our hunts in fall and winter. When we all got back together again this past fall, the two barely spoke to one another. It had been awkward for a while, but now it was just something we didn’t talk about. Besides, the show execs didn’t encourage that sort of thing. The focus of the show wasn’t to discuss our personal lives—much less have one outside the show.

  No worries for me. I hadn’t had a date in over a year, and it had been much longer than that since my last intimate encounter. Sometimes that bothered me, but most times I didn’t think much about it. I spent my ti
me reading books, studying up on hauntings that interested me and keeping up with my blog. If there was ever a nerd girl, it was me.

  We jumped out of the back of the van and walked up the sidewalk that led to the house. It was windy tonight, and I was glad I wore my fleece-lined jacket, a gift from my parents last Christmas. I zipped it up and shoved my hands in the pockets. “Watch your step here,” I warned the cameraman who followed us into Sugar Hill. Someone had left a bunch of cables in the walkway, which made for a major tripping hazard. It would be difficult to see them while peering through a camera lens.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. His name was James, if I remembered correctly—he was new and quite the nervous type. Not the kind of guy you would think would be part of a ghost hunting group.

  As Megan opened the door and we stepped inside the house, a hush fell over the place. A spiritual hush. As a sensitive, I was responsible for “feeling” what was around us. There was usually something, residual evidence of some trauma or tragedy, but this place was remarkably clear at the moment. It hadn’t been that way earlier. I’d definitely detected a strong female presence and a male presence lingering around the edges. Yes, this place practically sighed under the weight of its secrets.

  As always, the lights were out. That was how we conducted all MHP investigations. It made the film look spookier, but other than that I honestly didn’t see any advantage to stumbling around in the dark. I didn’t think the ghosts cared either, except for the kind you didn’t want to meet. I felt a weird sensation in my side, as if I’d been running and had a catch in it. It grew in intensity and then disappeared.

  Hmm…that was odd.

  “Okay, picking up something in here now. Let’s head to the basement and work our way up, Jess.” Megan waved her handheld device around looking for anomalies in the electromagnetic field. “Yes, definitely getting some spikes.” She reached for her walkie-talkie and called the van, as if they couldn’t see us on camera. “Okay, Mike? Becker? We’re heading through the kitchen and to the basement. Getting some good spikes in here. Look at this, point four, point five and rising!”