The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  Closing off her bedside light, she turned her back to the wall and eventually her eyes closed. It had only been a while, she thought, but she was now fully and suddenly awake, prickles nicked at her flesh. In the darkness, she felt something near to her. Her heart began to race and slowly she reached her hand outward from the bed.

  The stench of old tobacco and strong liquor sunk over her, but it was pitch black and she could not see anything. Blair’s throat constricted. Reflexively she grabbed outwards, floundering for the light, and daring herself to be wrong about the smell. Her hand knocked against something and the lamp’s lightbulb shattered on the wooden floors. Heavy breathing sounded around her, the wind started up outside rattling the glass in the windows and shifting the blind from the edges of the sill. A streak of lightning momentarily illuminated the room. Blair grabbed the sides of the bed and recoiled, screaming involuntarily. A tall bulky figure stood by the bed. The Laird, Alasdair Wallace, the one who had dragged Lachlan away, glowered over her. Another bolt of light followed. Blair felt her head get thrust back against the pillow, she could not move away. Voices started, or was it just one? Blair couldn’t tell. ‘Stop him Stop him.’ One more illumination hit the room and Fiona stood there, terror pouring from her face.

  Chapter Seven

  Thunder rumbled through the room and Blair felt the bed shake. Reason abandoned her and she grappled for a way of escape. Twisting her head and flaying out with her hands and legs, the pressure that was pushing her into the pillow dissipated from her and she rolled out and hit the floor. A slimy sticky substance covered her palm and with her other hand she touched shards of glass.

  Wiping the glass off on her clothing and clasping for whatever she could grab a hold of she got up off the ground. Lightning lit the room again. Blair looked down and the front her thin white cotton shift was drenched in blood from the thighs down. Whimpering, she ran her hands around her torso checking for injury.

  Pulling the gown up she searched over her torso and down her thighs looking for the source of the blood.

  Another flash of lightning illuminated the room. Reeling in confusion and looking at her body she saw she wore no cotton shift, but her usual T-shirt and panties. It was enough to break her panic.

  She leapt from the floor and flung herself at the light switch. Mercifully light flooded the room. The lamp was smashed on the ground with its light bulb shattered. Normalcy returned to her.

  There was no ‘presence’, no Laird, no Fiona, and no blood. A tiny shard had stuck her, and she pulled it out. A minute pinprick, with no injury. Placing her hands firmly on the door handle, she turned the knob and it swung open easily. Blair moved into the space, just in case it tried to shut on her and then stepped into the safety of the hall, digging her back into the walls.

  The membranes of her throat were dry and she had no saliva to moisten them, or to swallow the mammoth lump sitting in the middle of her neck. The metallic taste of blood on her tongue caused her to lick around her mouth and she found she was bleeding from the lips. A lump was forming where she had bitten the bottom one, but she couldn’t recall when that was. Unconsciously she whispered.

  “Why me? What did I ever do?”

  A slow breeze started at the end of the hallway swinging a tapestry carelessly on its hooks. Intense waves of fear rolled within Blair’s gut and trickled trepidation into her limbs. Low lights in the hallway flickered in unison with the lights in her room. Goosebumps pimpled her arms as the breeze picked up in speed. The temperature dropped. The lights went out.

  Hand by hand she felt her away along the hallway. If I can just get downstairs, maybe there’s an open door. Foreboding pulled at every nerve and once more she heard her own voice in timid sobs.

  “Why me?” Light bulbs flickered and failed. Blair froze on the spot. Muffled whispers echoed around her infiltrating her panic.

  The words ‘Yer blood, yer blood’ floated on the whispers. She screamed in wretched terror. The whispers came again. The words ‘Make it right’ hung in the air and faded out.

  The dim hallway lights flicked back on, along with the bedroom light and the draught - or whatever that was - had gone. Blair ran for the stairwell and bolted down. Going room to room, she turned on every light.

  There was no chance she was going back upstairs, but it was freezing in the house and she needed clothes.

  Wrapping herself up in her coat which hung by the back-door entrance she put on her outdoor shoes and yesterday’s socks which were still in them. In the linen closet, she grabbed two pairs of queen size sheets.

  Blair lit a small fire in the oversized grate of the hotel sitting room and fetched the cushions from the sofas in the reading nook and carried them over. Winding the sheets around her legs she walked in constricted steps to the kitchen, made a hot chocolate, and brought it back to the sitting room. The moments passed into hours and eventually darkness gave way to dawn. Bird song rippled through the morning stillness and now in the light of day, Blair found her courage.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  There was no sense of foreboding intruding upon her as she ascended the stairs back to her room. Gathering her clothes, computer, and pages torn out of her accounting book, where she had written notes, Blair retreated to the lower level.

  Once dressed, she left the house and walked down to the loch. Silver lights rippled across the waters and early birdsong chased away night terrors.

  A myriad of green and silver quivering grasses rustled in the gentle wind. Across the loch a few feral sheep grazed on the hillsides.

  The morning was glorious but Blair was in a mess of confusion and did not know what to do, or where to turn.

  Sadness and defeat brought tears to the surface, and they cascaded down her cheeks freely. She was in deep trouble. Every last dollar had been poured into bringing Elleric Lodge from sorry disrepair to shining glory. Her investment portfolio had been depleted, her condo sold. Was she also to abandon this place of her ancestors and leave it to ruin again? Running with her tail between her legs? Explaining to people that really, honestly, the house had the spirits of dead children terrorising people? Roland would fund her return to the states, give her back her job.

  She could put the lodge on the market, but with all the money she had sunk into it there would be significant financial losses. And who would buy it? Gloom took over Blair’s mind while she played the voices over in her head wondering what it all meant. ‘Your blood. your blood. Make it right... your blood.’ An extraordinary flash of insight hit her and she knew now what it meant... ‘YOU ARE blood. YOU ARE blood... Make It Right.’ Jumping up from the bank, she ran back to the lodge. Those bones... she needed to talk with Callum about them the minute he arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  Callum’s pickup moved slowly along the newly built driveway and pulled off towards the courtyard. Blair banged and waved on the window until she caught his eye. Beckoning him from the window, she indicated for him to come in.

  “Time for a chat? I’ve got the tea made.” Callum seated himself at the bench while Blair poured them each a cup. “Have you eaten? Oh of course you have... I’m sorry, I’m all a jitter this morning. I’ve got a lot to say. It’s hard to know where to begin.”

  “Just tell me, I’ve got a good ear.”

  Blair hesitated for a moment, summoning courage to begin. Callum waited.

  “Well, the thing of it is, I think I believe in ghosts now.” By the time Blair had told the story of the last few days, she was doing her best to hold back tears but they fell anyway. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and all my resources are tied up in this place. I don’t think these ghosts are silly rumours anymore... and I know it sounds dramatic... I’m afraid that I’ll die here, be killed I mean. Those dreams...” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

  Callum reached across and gently repositioned the hair falling in front of her face, tucking the strands back out of the way. “Dry ye eyes hen, it’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin'.”

&nb
sp; Blair squinted her face and looked at him through bleary eyes. “What?”

  “Nothin', it just means... well, things will get better. We’ll sort this, Blair. We will. I promise ye.”

  Blair worked in the yard for the morning with Callum, laying down tiles for the courtyard. Exhaustion pulled at her but she dared not go to her room and sleep. Callum kept the conversation light, but it was clear to Blair he really was looking to help, and didn’t think her a fool.

  After a long pause in conversation, he stopped his work and rested on the grass. “There’s a historian at the library in Inverness – Moira Stewart. She knows everything there is to know about the highlands. What do ye say we go in and talk to her, ask her what she knows?” Blair nodded.

  “I’d like to do that. Right now, I’m willing to try anything. I don’t know what she could say to help, but just knowing more might help – well, it can’t hurt anyway.” Blair’s mobile rang its alert. She fished it out of her pocket.

  “Hello, this is Blair.” She mouthed to Callum ‘David Cowen’ and turned her attention back to the phone “Well thank you – so what did you find... OH! Well, that’s good news then. Now what? OK... Look since they were found here, could I have them back? For burial in the family cemetery? OK, thanks for the call. So, I’ll hear back from you then? Bye.” Callum looked at her expectantly.

  “So,” Blair said, “They’ve identified the bones as a female around fourteen and a male around twelve. David says they died in the early 1800s, somewhere around 1800-1820. He also thinks I can have them back – that I can bury them here. He’s going to let me know.”

  Callum was thoughtful when he spoke. “Kids, buried out there, and a tree grown on top. Does David think they were Wallaces?”

  “Oh, no way to know. I could probably get my DNA tested to find that out at least. But he’ll let us know whatever he finds out. Whatever’s going on – maybe burying those bones will solve it. I can’t go upstairs without breaking into hives and I’m so jumpy.” Blair dug her fingers into her forehead, tracing back and forth along worry lines. “This is crazy. It doesn’t seem possible, but do you think I’m being haunted by those two kids and those bones are theirs?” Callum shook his head and shrugged, deep creases wrinkling up his forehead.

  “I don’t know, but it’s as good as any other explanation, isn’t it? As I said, I’ve always heard this house was haunted. Now it never bothered me, but I haven’t lived here.”

  Blair started talking. Her words tumbled out fast, falling over each other.

  “Well, if I can’t get this sorted I might as well just pack up and go back to the States. I can’t even get people to work out here.” Her voice was raising to the crest of panic “Those words I heard. You’re blood, make it right. It’s because I’m a Wallace. I know it is. The last one that was here before me was Alasdair Wallace and he was The Laird, I think he did something to those kids. Now they want revenge.”

  Callum voice was gentle “Perhaps yer right... but before we believe that’s what it is, let’s see what Moira has to say eh? And Blair, if it will make ye more comfortable I could move out here tomorrow if ye like. The cottages are almost completed and the gate house too. I’ll get the boys on them right away and we’ll get them finished. Ye could always camp out in the gate house till it’s done.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was awake almost all night and it’s just been so weird... I’ll get it sorted. Everything I own is invested into this. I’m not just going to throw it all away. And I’m not dead yet, so if there is anything going on maybe they just want me to fix it. Like they said... make it right.”

  Callum’s expression relaxed and Blair realised she had actually frightened him with her crazy rant. She continued.

  “If the ghosts won’t go - there’s a silver lining in all of this. I’ll turn this place into a ghost hunters’ paradise and get the film crews out here. I’ll make a fortune giving ghost tours. And use it for séances and stuff.”

  “That’s the spirit - oh... sorry about the pun.”

  Blair rolled her eyes at him “Why don’t we give Moira Stewart a call and find out if we can see her this week?”

  Chapter Nine

  By day’s end Blair felt calmer. An appointment had been arranged to meet with Moira Stewart and Blair had contacted the state records department. Finding out who was buried in the family plot might give her some insight, so she had requested retrieval of those records.

  Tomorrow Callum would move out here and there was only one more night by herself at the estate. Objectively she was still in one piece. If something supernatural was going on, it hadn’t actually hurt her. Yet. She banished the thought from her mind.

  From tomorrow on everything would be better, she knew it –felt in the depths of her being. But for now, she wanted more than anything to relax in a hot bath.

  The splash of running water had a rhythm to it which was comforting.

  Blair poured in a bunch of salts with a lavender and chamomile scent. Its perfume rose up into the room and she breathed it deeply, stepping in to the depths of the old style, iron claw-foot bath.

  Pulling the circular curtain around and sinking low the heat soothed the aches from her body and her arms floated lazily on the water. Finally, she relaxed. Her breathing became slow and even. Snippets of dreams flitted on her mind. A door closed shut somewhere, and in her webby thoughts Blair thought she heard footsteps. Callum had left just twenty minutes ago, perhaps he came back for something.

  “Callum?” Her voice was lazy, sleepy. No one answered. But he wouldn’t just come in the house, he’d phone anyway. Maybe he left his phone. “Callum?”

  Soft noises came from somewhere downstairs. Slow footfall and the sound of boots trod the stairwell. It’s not Callum. Blair shot up in the bath. She began to fight mentally with herself to control the sensations that curdled her insides. She had to keep calm. Whoever it was had moved to the upper level now. She sat still and quiet, hoping the intruder would leave. Had they heard her? Her thoughts seemed to be answered as the footsteps stopped outside of the bedroom door. The door creaked open and then steps moved toward the bathroom. Involuntarily her teeth clenched unnaturally tight, Blair dare not, could not move, acutely aware she was feeling paralysed and that there was no means of defence or exit.

  The handle rattled and with great effort she forced her hands to the sides of the tub. The curtain completely covered it, maybe he would not see her and just leave, but, in her heart, she knew that would not happen; she was going to have to fight. Pushing herself upward with all her might she stood, but lost her grip as her foot skidded on the slick surface. Her hands clutched at the curtain to steady herself but it ripped loose from the hooks and she fell, her vision obscured by the vinyl covering.

  The burly shape of the Laird stood in front of her. Large strong hands held the curtain over her face and shoved her down. He gave a gleeful, victorious chortle. Popping noises filled her ears as water flooded in. Blair thrust out with her hands fighting hard, shoving, and swinging around, grappling at air. Her hands connected with the sides of the curtain and she tore at it. Her head was swimming in blackness, she could not think or breathe. Water ran up her nose and every time she lifted her head the vinyl stopped her breath. Blair stopped fighting and hovered in a pocket of stillness. Darkness gave way to bizarre images. After a moment, she began to shiver with deathly cold. The water felt cool now, and the air frozen. Long black hair fell over her thin emaciated shoulders and her bony knees were pulled up under her chin to fit into the small tin tub. A shadow fell over her and she knew. The Laird stood over her unbuckling his trousers. A phallus flashed through her mind. Pain wracked her secret places and her desire for death was intense. If she slipped under the water it would be over, she would be free. But Lachlan would remain. She could not leave him. She steeled herself against the Lairds assault.

  Gulps of air rushed her lungs. Blair coughed and spluttered lifting her head from where it had fallen,
tilted at the edge of the tub. The shower curtain was torn half down and dangled in the water. In a disoriented daze, she pulled herself up and grabbed the towel. No one stopped her, the room was empty. Throwing on her clothes Blair bolted down the stairs and out of the house.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The wind whipped her hair against the back of her neck. The night shone with the brilliance of innumerable stars, their beauty lost on Blair.

  Crying out in horror she fled down the path toward the outbuildings for the sky glowered in a ghostly display of inky blue and green. The first cottage came into view. Blair darted inside and flicked the switch.

  Bright white light flooded the little cottage and she leaned against the wall breathing hard. Tools, sawdust, and a pile of timber littered the floor where cupboards and benches were still under construction. Somehow it was comforting. But there was no heating in here, and fresh from the bath it felt as though icicles were forming in her blood. Blair rubbed at her limbs to stimulate warmth.

  Wrapping her arms around herself she stomped on the ground for the sake of her toes that were cramping up. She watched the weird night sky from the safety of the window. Didn’t someone mention something about this? Or had she read it? Slowly Blair recalled. Aurora Borealis. The northern lights.

  Throwing back her head back Blair laughed dizzy with happiness. She had just witnessed something of stunning beauty, nothing sinister at all, and yet she fled from it.

  This just goes to prove that you can convince yourself of anything. I think you need to stop over-reacting to dreams.

  Stepping back outside she took in the unspeakable beauty of the sky, gazing at it for a long time, letting its magnificence wash through her. Eventually she moved, jumping on her tiptoes and rubbing her arms for warmth.