Awakened with a Touch

by Kessily Lewel

  She made her way to the equipment room to check on Jerome, wondering if he'd caught any of what was going on but the completely blank look on his face when she rapped lightly on the doorframe with the back of her hand said otherwise. "Hey," she said, flashing him a smile.

  "Oh, hey, April. How's things?" he replied. His voice was distracted as he went back to writing down time stamps in a notebook as he scanned video.

  "Things are interesting, as always. What are you doing?" she asked, moving to stand behind his chair for a better view of the images he was watching. There was a whole bank of small monitors on the desk, but whenever something interesting came up, the footage was switched to the large viewing screen in the center, and right now, that monitor was focused on one of the upstairs rooms.

  "Hmm, well something keeps setting off the motion detector in this room, but it's weird because I can't see anything happening in there. Watch," he said. In a few seconds, the screen went dark, and once it did, the time counter at the bottom went into fast forward. It cranked to a crawl after five minutes and the screen flashed on again. They both leaned in, staring intently at the still bedroom.

  "I don't see anything, either," she said after a minute. The process repeated itself again, and still, there wasn't anything attention-getting.

  "Yeah, the temperature doesn't drop, either," he said.

  "Does it always?" she wondered.

  "Well, no. It's not really a reliable gauge, especially not in this house." He paused the monitor and turned to give her his attention, going into lecture mode. "With the entity that you call John, in the beginning, when there was footage of interactions with him, the temps would drop rapidly to match—sometimes five-to-ten degrees in under a minute. That stopped."

  She shrugged. "He said that the more time he spent with me, the more he'd seem alive. Maybe it's connected? His skin isn't cold to the touch anymore, either, and I can hear his heartbeat." She'd told all of this to the professor during morning briefings but she wasn't sure what he'd passed on to his minions.

  "Right, and that's a hypothesis we're considering. We're not really sure why your presence would affect him like that, unless it's the, uh…" He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. "…intimate contact. It's certainly not doing anything for the other spirits in the house."

  "Oh." Now it was her turn to feel embarrassed. Though she didn't blush as easily as she had before this month had started, it was still awkward for her to talk openly about these things, especially with Jerome. The professor interrogated her every morning so she'd gotten used to spilling all her embarrassing adventures, and she and Carson had formed a friendship now that they weren't fighting, leading to several heart-to-hearts about the situation. But Jerome was quiet, only speaking when he needed to. She liked him but she didn't feel like she really knew him. "Right."

  "So, usually with the others, we do get that drop. We don't really know why, though the popular theory is that the spirit needs energy to manifest and draws it from the room. It explains cold patches, sudden chills, things like that are normal when there are spirits present. You might even see your breath."

  "John did say he was drawing energy from me. So maybe he no longer has to draw it from the air?" she wondered thoughtfully.

  Jerome said, "Until now, we've never been able to really study a situation in depth like this, so the evidence is spotty and it's all mostly guesswork." His eyes drifted back towards the monitor and she could tell he wanted to return to work but what he'd said had shifted something in her memory.

  "What about a cold spot that's not attached to a spirit directly?" she asked suddenly, remembering her attic experience. She'd meant to ask about it, but it had slipped her mind until he'd jogged her memory.

  "Well, it could be a draft?" he said, suggesting the likeliest explanation.

  "No, I felt something. It made my skin crawl and I thought I was going to throw up for a minute, but I don't think there was actually a spirit there. Not that I could see or sense, anyway," she said. In fact, she rarely saw a spirit unless they wanted to be seen and, in this house, it was only John who was such a strong and visible presence, but normally, she could at least sense they were nearby.

  He sat up straighter, looking interesting. "Where?"

  "In the attic, um, the hallway between the servant side and the family side," she said, sending a glance towards the ceiling as though she could see the spot through two floors. "Actually…" Now, she realized why she'd suddenly thought of it. "I think it's right over that room," she said, pointing at the monitor. The realization that it could have been something above the room setting the equipment off must have occurred to them both at the same time.

  "Can you show me?" He jumped to his feet, grabbing strange equipment off the shelf and shoving it into a messenger bag. Over the past few weeks, she'd gotten to know a little bit about how they measured and recorded evidence, but they had their work and she had hers, so she hadn't really had much chance to learn what most of the equipment was for. She wanted to ask, but Jerome was in a hurry, urging her along, so she tabled the questions for the moment.

  They went up the back stairs; they were meant for servants and led up from an alcove near the kitchen, so they could work out of sight, she supposed. She paused at the bottom and wondered if they shouldn't let the others know, but he didn't seem interested in waiting, so after a brief hesitation, she followed him up two flights of narrow, creaky steps, to the attic.

  On the landing, he stepped aside and she took the lead. "It was just down this way," she said, as she passed the small servant rooms. She didn't glance inside as she went by; she'd seen what little was in there already and they were just a temptation to get pulled into the past again. This affinity she had with things that had happened before she was born could be distracting.

  At the end of the hall, she stopped to open the door that separated the two sides of the floor. "Through here," she said as she stepped into the family side. She paused, moving forward cautiously and trying to remember the exact spot before she found herself in the middle of it. Focused so intently, it was easy to note when she reached the edge of the miasma. Her stomach turned and bumps rose on her skin as the temperature dropped.

  "Here," she whispered. Something about the spot seemed to drain the energy from her. It was hard to even talk until she moved back a few inches. Even then, she could swear it felt like it was reaching out icy tendrils in her direction.

  Jerome moved past her without replying. He always tended towards quiet so she wasn't sure if he was feeling the same thing as he snapped a dial on the black box he was holding and pointed a wand in front of her, waving it slowly in the air.

  "Grab my bag," he said, shrugging his shoulder to slide the strap down, and she caught it as it dropped. "There's a notebook in there; can you take notes?" he asked. His tone was distracted, all of his attention focused, as he began a slow, pacing movement around the concentrated aura of darkness that she'd felt.

  "Not sure I've ever seen such a temperature drop before," he muttered as he moved back a few steps, called out a number and then moved forward and called out a much lower number. He gave her other measurements and readings and she noted down exactly what he said, even though she didn't understand much. A minute later, he came back, plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out another device. This one she recognized, since she'd seen Carson use it in the library.

  "EMF meter, right? It detects electromagnetic fields?" she clarified, feeling pleased that she knew something.

  Jerome nodded, giving her a surprised glance before looking back down and adjusting the dials. "Exactly."

  She found herself making more notations for him and did so without asking questions, but after a few minutes, he began to explain what he was doing in a distracted voice. She wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or if it was for her benefit, but it was interesting, either way. He took pictures of all angles of the hallway and then took the notepad from her and began scribbling at high speed while she loo
ked over his shoulder and tried to decipher it.

  "Do you think something bad happened here?" she asked.

  He jumped and looked at her in surprise, almost like he'd forgotten she was anything but a convenient piece of furniture to hold his things while he investigated. "Oh, uh, yeah, I think so. Something really evil went down, for sure. I've heard about spots like this before but never studied one," he said. "Usually means a lot of people died here," he added, frowning.

  "Seems like a weird place for that," she said, looking around nervously. She was glad there was nothing to touch, no furniture, just an empty hallway. She'd hate to stumble into a death scene without warning because she touched the wrong thing.

  "Yeah, don't think it was in the hall," he murmured as he approached the paneling. He swallowed visibly and she could see the hairs on his arm were standing straight out. She had a feeling he was sensing at least a fraction of what she was.

  "Where else could it be? There's nothing here," she said, confused.

  "That's kinda weird, too, right? Look." He pointed to the end of the hall and then back. "I remember the other side of that is that weird long room where you…uh…the other night." He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed to bring up the scene with her and John, as he turned towards the other direction. "That room there doesn't extend this far down, not even close, so what's using up all this extra space?" he asked.

  She frowned, tilting her head. He was right; there was a lot of space missing. "You think there's a secret room behind that wall?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. Of course, there was; there had to be.

  "Yeah. Well, these old houses, you know, a lot of them had hidden rooms." He knocked on the wall loudly and then leaned in and pressed his ear to it before knocking again. "Definitely hollow back there. Question is how do we get in?" he wondered. His eyes were narrowed, an analytical expression fixed in place as he probed the panels for a latch or lever.

  In movies, there was always some cleverly concealed item that you pulled, but here, there was just an empty hallway. After a minute or two, he shrugged and turned back towards her. "Any ideas?" he asked.

  Her hesitation was obvious, but finally she nodded. "Yeah, let me try something." She moved deliberately into the cold spot, shuddering as the feeling of nausea rolled over her. Her throat muscles worked desperately, swallowing back the extra saliva forming. At least she'd been expecting it this time; that helped somewhat. She placed her hand flat on the wall and tried to deliberately invoke her gift of psychometry.

  Normally, it just happened when she touched something with strong emotions attached, and she'd learned to be careful what she touched, but this time, she really needed it to work. She felt nothing new, at first, when she pressed her hand flat against the wall. She held it there as she stepped sideways slowly, dragging her hand over the panels and grooves. At one point, she thought she'd gotten a flash of something and she froze, waiting for it to form, but there was no clear picture.

  She let her hand slide from the wall and started to turn back towards Jerome, who was watching with curiosity. She realized she'd never mentioned her other gifts to anyone on the team, preferring to keep things simple; knowing she was a medium was enough. She was about to explain, when something grabbed her hand firmly and tugged. The pull was so hard, she almost lost her balance and it was definitely an outside influence—a spirit.

  Her skin was already chilled but she could feel icy fingers pressing into her slender wrist as she was dragged to a specific spot. She fought as her hand was lifted to a spot about five feet off the ground and pressed against a section of wall firmly.

  "What the hell?" Jerome said, behind her.

  "It's a spirit," she explained. "I can feel her hand."

  Jerome fumbled in his bag for a camera, but by the time he got it out, cursing, the entity had vanished and April's hand had dropped back to her side. "She made me push on that spot up there, but nothing happened," she said, sounding confused. She hadn't misunderstood; she couldn't have, with the ghost guiding her movements.

  "Does this stuff happen to you a lot? Or like, is it just in this house?" he asked with a headshake.

  "Mostly just this house. I mean," she explained with a shrug. "I see ghosts, sometimes, but it's rare. Most people who die don't stick around. They're too eager to solve the mystery of the great hereafter." She reached up and pressed harder on that spot, but nothing opened, and she sighed. "I guess we'll have to figure something else out," she said.

  By this time, Ben and Carson had noticed their absence and come looking for them. They met April and Jerome coming down the stairs.

  "We found something interesting," April said.

  She explained with the occasional interjection from Jerome, and when they were through, they all had to troop back up so that the professor could experience the cold spot for himself. He seemed almost giddy as he repeated all the tests that Jerome had done, causing the dark-skinned young man to roll his eyes and sigh.

  His mentor didn't miss it, distracted as he was. "Yes, yes, I know you're quite competent, Mr. Walker, but indulge me," he said calmly.

  April was sure it was less about a fear that Jerome had taken the measurements wrong, and more about him needing to be involved in everything. "Have you seen these before, Ben?" she asked.

  "Cold spots? Yes, it's created by an immense amount of negative energy—usually the site of multiple violent deaths. This might be the nexus for much of the paranormal activity in the house, though I'd have put my money on the basement before feeling it. It's quite unsettling," he said.

  He looked a little green and was clearly suffering some of the same effects she had, but either he had a lot of willpower, or it wasn't the same dosage she'd gotten, because he stayed right in the center of the miasma for far longer than she could have managed. When he did step free of its range, he looked weak and shaky, but oddly triumphant.

  "These are very interesting readings!" he announced. "Now, where did you say you were guided to press?"

  April sighed and reluctantly forced herself back into negative aura, moving without hesitation to the spot, because they'd used a marker to draw a large X where her hand had been placed. When she pushed hard, she felt a slight bit of give, but that was all. "Nothing happens," she said.

  "Hmm. I'd like to break through and see what's in there, but I'm afraid I don't have the authority to do that. Pity we discovered this so near the end of the month; I'm not sure we'll have a chance to investigate further, unless…" He paused, looking at her hopefully.

  She hadn't forgotten his request to come back once the month was over, but she hadn't given him an answer yet, either. For reasons similar to the ones she'd had for letting John wait to find out if she was staying, she just gave him a slight smile and didn't comment. She was sure they'd work out details for the team to return but she wasn't ready to commit just yet.

  As they all trooped back down the stairs, Ben was talking about calling the lawyer for permission to break the wall. April hung back with Carson and groaned. The teal-haired girl gave her a sympathetic look. "Maybe he won't come over," she said.

  Miss a chance to harass April? She didn't think that was likely but she nodded. "Maybe. He makes me nervous, and those blue eyes of his—empty, like a doll's," she said with a shudder.

  Carson looked surprised. "Blue eyes? I could have sworn he had brown eyes," she said.

  April shook her head. "Definitely blue; I got an up close and personal look at them when he invaded my space to hit on me," she pointed out.

  Carson nodded, acquiescing, since April had been much closer to the man than she had. "He not bad looking though, for a stiff in a suit," she commented as they reached the ground floor. "If he wasn't such a sleeze, he wouldn't have any trouble getting a woman without having to trap her," she added.

  Now it was April's turn to look surprised. Good looking? Charles Bruebeker was far from what she'd consider handsome and he'd looked to be at least twenty years older than either of the w
omen. She just laughed and shook her head. "I think we've got very different taste in men. If I was going to go for an older guy, I think Ben would be more my style," she said, dropping her voice low so that the man in question wouldn't hear.

  "Professor Marlowe?" Carson asked and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess he's all right, but for someone who doesn't like older men, you sure made an interesting choice here."

  April blinked and then laughed when she got it. Of course, John was a lot older than he looked, not that Carson would know what he looked like. "Good point. You'll have to trust me on this, though, he looks good for his age. And Ben has the whole distinguished graying at the temples thing going on. Charles just looks…" She shrugged, making a face. It was completely possible that she was seeing him through a filter of distaste but she couldn't see how anyone would find the lawyer attractive.

  "I can hear you, you know," Professor Marlowe called back, sounding highly amused. He'd stopped in the entranceway and had caught the tail-end of what April was saying as they moved closer.

  She blushed immediately, but they'd gotten comfortable enough with each other to handle a little teasing. "Don't let it go to your head, Ben, but some girls find a little gray at the sides hot," she said.

  He chuckled, hand going up to brush his temples in an embarrassed gesture. "So I've heard. At least once a semester, one of my female students will tell me all about how handsome I am. I suspect they think flirting will increase their scores," he said. He rolled his eyes and she realized he didn't really know that he was handsome. He wasn't her type, but if she hadn't been head over heels in love with John, she might have been tempted.

  Some of the things that made John so perfect for her also applied to the professor. She knew he'd never judge her for her powers or be afraid of them. But the flip side was knowing he'd probably pressure her nonstop to let him test her, to see what she could do. She wouldn't enjoy life as a lab specimen and then there was also the fact that she had a feeling science was Ben's first love.