The Haunted

by J. A. Templeton

  “She’ll be returning on the twenty-sixth.”

  Damn, the twenty-sixth was weeks away.

  I heard a bark from inside the house again. Apparently the man heard it, too, because he frowned, his gaze shifting from me to the door and back again. “I’ve got a key in case of emergencies.”

  He pulled out a key chain with about twenty odd keys on it. After three tries, he finally found the right one and the door opened.

  “Anne Marie?” he called cautiously. “Anne Marie, are you here? Diggs?”

  Nothing. No bark, no scuffle, nothing.

  In the kitchen there was a partially full teacup on the counter, and a spoon sitting beside a fly-covered scone. In the sink there were pots, pans and dirty dishes.

  Anne Marie’s house had been tidy the last time I’d been here. If she had known she was leaving for a while, then why hadn’t she taken the time to at least wash her dishes?

  It seemed out of character. The man cracked open a window and swatted at the flies. I walked down the hallway, past a bedroom set up as an office, a bathroom with pink tiles, and the master bedroom…where the bed was unmade.

  Okay, now I was really getting nervous.

  “When did you say she left?” I asked, heading back to the kitchen.

  “Few days ago,” he said, pulling off his hat and scratching his bald head. “I saw her walk to her car with a suitcase and Diggs. Normally she’ll tell me ahead of time if she’s going somewhere, so I was surprised she hadn’t said anything to me.”

  “Miss Akin, our housekeeper, said Anne Marie hasn’t been feeling well.”

  His eyes lit up. “You’re the American girl who lives at the inn?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Anne Marie mentioned you once or twice.” He checked the garbage under the sink, pulled the liner out and tied the top. “I’ve heard stories of that place.”

  Even the way he said “that place” sounded ominous. “What kind of stories?”

  It seemed most every place in Braemar was haunted, even Anne Marie’s. A shiver rushed up my spine.

  He shrugged. “You know…all old buildings have stories.”

  My cell rang, signaling that I had a text. “Speak of the devil—it’s Miss Akin,” I told him. “It’s time for me to get home.”

  The old man shifted on his feet. “Will you tell her Harry said hello?” I swore his cheeks turned pink.

  “Sure,” I said, walking toward the front door. “Harry, will you let me know if you hear anything from Anne Marie?”

  “Aye, lass, I certainly will.”

  ***

  I pulled out Laria’s journal from between my mattress. I had read the spell that had bound Ian to the land so many times when Ian had still been here, I could probably recite it word for word. Regardless, I read it again, aloud, and wondering where I had gone wrong.

  I fished under my bed for the other books on witchcraft and spent the next hour trying to find out what I could about breaking spells. It was tough—because spells were specific to the person creating it.

  Then it dawned on me—what if Laria’s return didn’t have to do with the curse at all? What if it was me she wanted revenge on now that Ian was gone?

  Miss Akin called me down for dinner. She had been quiet since I’d told her that Anne Marie had left for her daughter’s house. I couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for the drama happening in Anne Marie’s life. After all, she’d started acting weird after the séance where Laria had made her appearance. She’d told me herself when I’d visited her last that Laria was visiting her on a daily basis, and even invading her dreams.

  Shane came down to dinner after being called for the third time. The back of his hair stood up straight, so I took it he’d been sleeping. Miss Akin asked him about practice and he just shrugged.

  She cleared her throat. “Coach Everson called and said you were in a fight.”

  I turned to Shane. “With who?”

  He took a deep breath, released it. “Calvin Eckhart. Trust me, he had it coming. He’s a prick.”

  “Shane,” Miss A said, looking like he’d slapped her. “Watch your mouth or I will wash it out with soap.”

  “Sorry,” he replied, cutting his spaghetti with his fork. “A person can only take so much sh—crap before they snap. He’s always running his mouth.”

  Calvin Eckhart? The name didn’t ring a bell.

  “He was sent home too,” he said, like that made all the difference.

  Miss Akin sighed heavily. “Your dad wouldn’t—”

  “He called Joni a few choice names and I didn’t like it. When he didn’t stop, I clocked him.”

  At least he’d gotten in trouble sticking up for Joni.

  He set his fork down. “Please don’t tell Dad about it. We were just sent home early from practice. I mean, we weren’t suspended or anything.”

  “Speaking of Dad—did he call?” I asked Miss Akin, intent on changing the discussion.

  “Not yet.”

  “He’s seeing a woman,” Shane said matter-of-factly. “Why else would he be spending so much time away from home?”

  “No, he’s not.” The very thought of Dad dating horrified me.

  “Let’s not start speculating,” Miss Akin said, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sure your father would tell you if he was seeing someone.”

  Shane snorted and lifted the glass of milk to his lips.

  I thought back over the weeks since we’d been in Braemar and how Dad had almost immediately set out for Edinburgh. I know his company headquarters was there, but the reason he’d bought the inn, or so he’d said, was so he could work from home in peace and quiet. But that had been when we’d still lived in Portland.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Shane was right. If Dad had a girlfriend, I don’t know what I’d do. I ran a hand through my hair. As if I already didn’t have enough to worry about.

  Chapter 7

  The following day in first period I felt the familiar sensation of being watched. When the teacher gave us time to read for the better part of the hour, I instead focused on spirits.

  Minutes in, I heard a sigh come from behind me.

  I straightened my spine. I didn’t know if it was another student, or if I was hearing a ghost. I figured the latter when cold air worked its way up my legs.

  “You’re the girl who helped Ian.”

  I glanced to my right. Ronald Delano, a boy with flatironed hair, rolled his pencil between his thumb and forefinger while he read the textbook. Sensing my gaze, he looked at me, or rather my boobs, and blushed before he turned his attention back to his book.

  “Over here, by the map.”

  I glanced toward the map and saw a boy with short, sandy blonde hair sitting on a table where all the research books were kept. Dressed in dark shorts, suspenders and a white shirt, it was obvious he wasn’t from my time.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me telepathically.

  “Um, what are you doing?” I thought.

  He slipped off the desk and walked past the teacher, touching the edge of each as he approached me.

  “I’m talking to you.”

  Little smart-ass. “What’s your name?” I asked, elation racing through me. I was talking to a spirit—a benevolent spirit from what I could tell.

  “Peter.”

  “Is this where you live?”

  “More or less.”

  Was he trying to be evasive?

  “How long have you been dead?”

  He glanced at the calendar on the wall and pursed his lips together. “Ninety-two years, four months, six days…in your time.”

  There it was again—that mention of time. “In my time. What does that mean exactly?” I asked, curious for an explanation.

  “You think of time as being in a straight line with a beginning, a middle, and an end.”

  “It’s not?”

  He laughed, or actually giggled, the sound making me smile. “No, time is an illusion.”

&
nbsp; I wished he’d expand on the time explanation a bit, but he didn’t. Instead, he acted like a typical ten-or-so-year-old boy and flicked Ronald’s textbook.

  Ronald frowned, shot me a strange look, and I pretended to be interested in what I was reading.

  “Actually, I’m eleven.”

  “Hey, I was close. I’m curious…how come you didn’t move on? I mean, why stay here?”

  He fidgeted, pulling the zipper on my backpack. “I didn’t want to leave my family.”

  Given how long he’d been earthbound, I had to believe all of his family had all passed on by now. At least those he had known in his lifetime. “What do you do to pass the time?”

  He shrugged. “Lots of things. That’s why I like school so much. There is so much to see and do. Plus, I like driving the teachers a bit mad. Moving objects here and there. Mrs. Abernathy gets especially freaked out, probably because she is sensitive...like you.”

  My pulse leapt. Mrs. Abernathy, the art teacher, was a sensitive?

  Throughout Science, Peter stayed close by, and even served as comic relief. He rattled off the answers to the questions of a surprise quiz. I felt a little guilty when I got one hundred percent right, but who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I even caught him staring at Cait a few times. I suspected he had a little crush.

  In Mrs. Abernathy’s art class, I watched her closely. Whenever Peter would step near her, she would tilt her head to the side and lose her concentration.

  Peter flashed a cocky smile. “Told you.”

  At lunch, Peter sat at my table—literally on the table—his legs kicking back and forth. I was reminded of the days when Ian was around, how I had to pretend he didn’t exist when I was with other people. It was tough to ignore him.

  When Cait showed up wearing a red baby doll dress with white polka dots, and black leggings, Peter grinned, his gaze slowly shifting over her long, thin legs. Cait received a few whistles as she made her way toward our table, and in true Cait fashion, she ignored them.

  “Hey, you want to come over and work on our science assignment tonight?” Cait asked.

  I won’t lie—I was excited and yet nervous at the prospect of being in the castle again. “Sure.”

  I could feel Megan watching us, and when I glanced at her, she smiled softly. I think she was the only one who realized how much I liked Kade. Maybe Cassandra and Cait did, too, but I told myself it wasn’t because of Kade that I was excited about going to the castle. And yet, when Kade walked into the cafeteria a few minutes later wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, I called myself a liar. He was gorgeous and I had a tough time concentrating on anyone else. Even the eleven-year-old ghost who was snickering at me.

  “How about four o’clock?” Cait said.

  I knew for a fact that Shane had football practice until five, so chances that I would actually run into Kade were pretty good. It just depended on if he was coming home right after practice.

  Kade looked in my direction. I could feel his gaze from across the cafeteria and I forced myself to not look at him. I had been so obvious up to now, and I just wanted to play it as cool as I could. So when he sat down at a table with his friends, I was disappointed. I’d hoped he would sit by me again.

  “You are not foolin’ anyone, Riley.”

  I glanced at Peter, who shook his head. “That one over there is sweet on you as well.”

  He motioned toward the table to my right. Aaron sat with a small group of boys and girls. His friend nudged him and he glanced over my way. He waved, and I waved back. Cait followed my gaze. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re going to give the boy hope.”

  “He’s a friend,” I said in defense, dropping my gaze to my plate. I definitely didn’t want to be sending out any mixed signals. Been there, done that with Johan.

  Peter snorted and took a seat beside Cait. She didn’t show any sign that she noticed his presence.

  “Oh hey, Megan…I forgot to tell you that Sheila said Milo’s band sounds like shit.”

  Megan’s face dropped. “What the hell does she know what Milo’s band sounds like?”

  Cassandra shrugged and took a bite of salad. “That’s exactly what I asked her. She said she heard he sucked.”

  “Bitch,” Megan said. “He’s bloody brilliant. You just wait and see.”

  “I’ve heard him. I know how good he is,” Cassandra said, cracking open a diet soda.

  “He is good,” Cait added. “Damn good.”

  Megan immediately relaxed. “Thanks guys.”

  “I’m excited to hear him play,” I said, meaning it. I couldn’t wait for Milo’s party.

  Chapter 8

  I was tense as I knocked on the front door of Braemar castle. Despite the fact Kade was at practice, which was a relief in itself, I had to be sure not to say anything or let on that this wasn’t my first visit to their home. It’s not like I’d blurt out, “Hey, I’m the one who broke into your home while you were on holiday to perform a ritual to free your ancestor Ian from a curse put on him by a dead, but very evil witch.” Yeah, that’d go over so well.

  I glanced over my shoulder and Peter waved at me from where he sat on the stone wall—the same stone wall I had originally seen Laria. He hadn’t wanted to come closer to the castle, and, in a way, I was relieved. I definitely didn’t need him distracting me.

  The door opened and a petite, cute woman with soft brown eyes and auburn hair cut in a bob smiled back at me. She wore yoga pants, a Nike T-shirt and blinding white tennies. “You must be Riley Williams,” she said, extending a hand. “It’s so lovely to meet you. I am Karen, Cait’s mum.”

  Honestly, I didn’t see any resemblance between Cait, Kade, and their mom. I suppose I was expecting someone who looked like Maggie, Ian’s mum, with dark hair and large blue eyes to open the door. I shook her hand, and her grip was surprisingly strong.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Her grin widened. “I like your accent.”

  I had grown used to hearing those words, especially since school had started. Funny, but I had never thought of myself as having an accent.

  “Hey,” Cait said, coming around the bend in the stairs.

  “Hey.”

  “Would you like anything to drink, Riley?” Karen asked. “A cup of tea, perhaps?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  Cait rolled her eyes and took me by the hand. “Come on. Mum, we’ll be in my room.”

  “Dinner is at six. Would you like to stay, Riley?”

  Staying for dinner meant I’d see Kade. “Sure, that would be great,” I said before I could talk myself out of it.

  “Great. Would you like me to call your parents?”

  “No, I’ll let Miss Akin know.”

  Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Very well.”

  Cait motioned for me to follow her.

  I had to admit, I felt guilty for having broken into their home as we rounded the turret steps. We passed by a few doors, and then stepped into a room that was a glaring scarlet red. The curtains were black and there were crosses and angels everywhere…but I liked it. “Nice,” I said, tossing my backpack on her bed. There was a little cubbyhole room, and she had her laptop setting on a desk in the small space.

  “My mum freaked when I picked out the color, but she’s warming to it…or so she says. She told me she’s glad she doesn’t have to sleep in here.”

  That sounded like something my mom would have said. I saw a board with pictures of friends. Cait had used safety pins to hang the pictures. I smiled seeing Megan in a lot of the photos, and I recognized the glen in more than one shot. My pulse skittered seeing Kade, sans shirt, playing football. He had an incredible body—nice wide chest, perfect pecs, a solid six-pack and the deep V that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. The same deep V that made girls get stupid, myself included.

  It took effort, but I pulled my gaze away from the photo and dialed Miss Akin before I forgot. She told me to have a
good time and to please get a ride home so I didn’t walk home in the dark. I agreed with her. No way would I be walking home with Laria on the loose.

  “We should probably get our homework done,” I said, dumping my books out on the black comforter.

  Cait sighed and opened her textbook. Although she spent a lot of time talking in class, I could tell she’d paid attention to at least some of what our teacher had said. We flew through the homework and talked for a while. We actually liked a lot of the same bands and movies. I asked her about boys and she didn’t seem too interested in any one guy, except for maybe Shane.

  I heard the front door open and close, and footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded in time with the steps…that stopped shy of Cait’s bedroom.

  Excitement raced up my spine. Kade was home.

  Fifteen minutes later Cait’s mom knocked on the door. “Girls, dinner is ready.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Cait replied. “My mum is downright anal when it comes to hand washing. Go ahead,” she said, nodding toward the bathroom.

  The bathroom was a strange shape, not surprising given the fact it was in a castle tower. I wish I’d brought my backpack in with me. I’d just have to slip some lip gloss on when Cait washed her hands. I finger-combed my hair, and leaned forward to make sure I had no eye boogers. My breath caught in my lungs. In the mirror’s reflection I saw a tall, massive man with long red hair, a scruffy beard and dirt on his cheeks. I opened my mouth to yell for Cait when the man disappeared.

  “You coming?” Cait called from the other side of the door.

  “Jesus,” I said under my breath, placing a hand over my pounding heart. I needed to calm down.

  Cait and I walked into the dining room and I smiled seeing the picture of Maggie, Ian’s mom, hanging above the fireplace. Maggie had been the reason I had found Laria’s journal in the first place, not to mention she’d given me comfort when I’d been locked in the mausoleum while Laria had been tormenting me. Seeing her brought those memories back.

  “Ah, this must be Miss Williams who I have heard so much about. It’s lovely to have you in our community,” said a man who sat at the end of the long table reading a newspaper. He had the MacKinnon look about him—dark hair, which had gone gray at the temples, and the same brilliant blue eyes as Kade and Cait’s.