“Save me some coffee,” Althea said as Faith helped herself to another cup.
“Hang up the phone and I will.” Faith smirked, feeling positively giddy.
Althea scowled and snapped her cell phone shut. “Wait until the company gets the bill on all of these calls.” She poured a cup of coffee and shuffled through her notes.
“Okay, the crew is off shooting various points of interests,” she said in a cold, professional manner. Faith simply grinned back at her. “You will do the narration in postproduction. Tonight’s the big one, The City of the Dead. The only way to get inside the Black Mausoleum is by tour. The tours run at 8:30, 9:15, and 10 p.m. every night. Each one lasts about an hour and a half. It starts at the St. Giles Cathedral, near the Mercat Cross on the Royal Mile. It winds through Old Town and into Greyfriars Graveyard. Then we enter the permanently-locked Covenanters Prison, which contains the Black Mausoleum. I didn’t want to deal with tourists, so we’re booked for a private tour at midnight. Here’s a list of questions and comments I want you to use.” She handed Faith a slip of paper.
“Yes, no, very good, and not a chance,” Faith said, marking the sheet with her own notes.
“Tell me what you know about the prison, and then tell me why you look so freaking happy.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Faith feigned innocence while making more notes. “What, would you rather have Lanie back?”
“Lanie?” Althea scoffed. “At least she was easy to deal with. I just had her show up at hair and makeup, told her what to say and where to stand, told her how pretty she was, and she did whatever I said. You, on the other hand, challenge everything and add your own material, which frankly makes the shoot better. So no, I’d rather work with you and your reporter’s instincts. Now, tell me why you’re glowing, you slut.”
“Slut?” Faith laughed. “I should sue! Come on, do I really have to tell you?” she said with a knowing smile.
“It’s about time,” Althea said.
“I know.” Faith nodded. “But sadly, relationships don’t come with an owner’s manual. Enough about my love life. Let’s get down to business. My mother’s a history professor, and she gave me a quick rundown on the place. In 1679, the Covenanters engaged in a battle with Charles II, the battle of Bothwell Bridge on the river Clyde. They got the snot beat out of them, and those that survived were taken prisoner and returned to Edinburgh. There really wasn’t any place prepared for the thousands of Covenanters, so they were crammed into an enclosure at the north end of Greyfriars to await their fate. There was no real shelter, and little food, during that winter. Many of them died, and many were executed. Those that survived were shipped off to the West Indies as slaves. They didn’t make it, because the ship wrecked en route.
“The present site of the prison isn’t the real site. What we’re seeing tonight was erected around 1703. In recent years, a lot of spooky things have happened, many of which have been blamed on the MacKenzie poltergeist. George MacKenzie was the prison judge, and he’s buried in a mausoleum near the prison grounds. Have I missed anything?”
“No, that about sums it up,” Althea said. “Should be an interesting shoot tonight.”
“And cold.” Faith glanced out the window at the gloomy weather outside. “Any chance wardrobe’s going to be kind to me, or do I have to dress like Barbie again?”
“You’ll have a warm coat. The graveyard and the walk to the prison aren’t suitable for the usual on-camera look. The tour guide you’ll be working with will be Mary Summers. She knows the place up and down. One more thing, about that amendment you insisted on for the Whispering Pines shoot—”
“No,” Faith cut Althea off. “I will not, repeat will not, go into that kitchen ever again.”
“Faith,” Althea said carefully, “Carey’s bringing a CSI guy along, and it would be good to have you on camera asking questions when they go through the kitchen.”
“No fucking way.” Faith drew the refusal out slowly so there would be no room for an argument. “The only thing I’ll do on camera regarding the kitchen is explain that I’ll never go in there again. If it makes you happy, I’ll go into great detail as to why I won’t go. I’m serious, the bitch-slapping isn’t going to happen again. I don’t care how good it looks on camera, got it?”
“Got it,” Althea said. “I’ll have them go in this week, before we arrive with the second unit. I guess I don’t have a shot at convincing Shawn to go back in there?”
“You guess correctly,” Faith said. “You saw what happened. You were there when that thing tried to choke Shawn. Why on earth would you even consider sending us back in there? Never mind, I know. It would be good footage. Forget it. Send some other homo in to start the freak show. This little dyke will be more than happy to hide up in Anna’s bedroom, thank you very much.”
* * *
“This weather sucks,” Faith repeated with a scowl later that evening as the group plodded down the road towards the graveyard.
“What?” Connor laughed, seemingly content in his surroundings.
“Try being out in it all day long.” Shawn shivered and tilted her head slightly.
“I hear that you and Connor have been going at it all day,” Faith commented as Althea waved for them to hurry up.
“He’s worse than you were,” Shawn said. “Oh, man.” She trembled, stumbling slightly. “I think we need a camera set up.”
“What is it?” Faith asked, waving for the crew.
“Death,” Shawn said. The crew was hurrying to catch on film whatever was happening. “That mound is filled with bodies, isn’t it?” She addressed the tour guide while pointing to the large mound.
“Yes,” Mary said. “It’s a mass grave.”
“The cries of the innocent,” Shawn said, before Mary could relate the history.
“Anyone could have looked that up.” Connor shrugged for the benefit of the camera. “It was a dark page in history.”
“Did you see that?” Ronnie, the cameraman, exclaimed.
“What did you see?” Faith looked around, seeing nothing but the landscape.
“A flash of light.” Ronnie pointed his camera at the spot in question.
“I don’t see anything,” Connor said. “Could have been a reflection, or someone wandering about.”
Mary explained the history as the group entered the graveyard and headed towards the prison. At this point, Faith and Mary were a good distance ahead of Shawn and Connor. Each pair had their own crew members recording them.
“Okay, before we open the gates, I need Charles on camera. Keep Dr. Williams and the others behind,” Althea instructed.
“Yeah, you just love that element of surprise,” Faith said. “Where do you want me?”
“In front of the gate, and move it along, it’s getting late,” Althea said. “Speaking of surprises, are you sticking to the script?”
“We’ll see.” Faith stood on her mark.
“On three,” Althea said.
Faith recited the history of the graveyard and the prison, as she had done earlier that day for Althea’s benefit. Then, she went into some of the strange occurrences that included people feeling scratched, being pushed, and suffering physical injuries.
“Many say it starts with a tingling sensation in their feet. Is this just the work of overactive imaginations, or is there really something lingering in this desolate prison? We’re about to find out.”
“Cut,” Althea called out, motioning for Connor and Shawn. “You stuck to the script, mostly. Hot sex must agree with you.”
“Shut up,” Faith whispered, spying Shawn’s approach.
“Doesn’t it with everyone?” Shawn said. She nudged Faith in a playful manner. “Blabbermouth.”
“She guessed.” Faith felt herself blush.
“Wasn’t that hard,” Althea said. “Ronnie and Justine, you go in first and film the prison, then I need you to shoot Shawn and Connor entering. Faith and Mary will be last. Keep the cameras on
Shawn and Connor, and on anything Shawn points out, got it? Good, now let’s go, I’d like to finish before the sun comes up.”
Faith was filled with apprehension when she entered the tiny space that had once held thousands of people captive. She wasn’t certain if it was the coldness of the night, the eerie surroundings, or the way Shawn seemed ill at ease that was the source of her nervousness. She was miffed, too, by the way Connor was strutting about, dismissing everything Shawn pointed out.
Suddenly, Connor jerked and looked behind him. She almost laughed at how he played it off. Then again, that’s what I used to do. She sighed, keeping a watchful eye on Shawn. She knew Shawn’s body language; something was happening.
“Cold, hungry,” Shawn said, shifting her feet nervously.
Faith spun around, feeling something yank her hair. She quickly returned her focus to Shawn, recalling that many of the physical encounters began with a tingling sensation in the feet.
“Nice try,” Shawn taunted whatever was toying with her. “Over there,” she instructed Ronnie calmly. All eyes turned to the corner, and jaws hung open when a shadow passed in a space that held no light.
“Reflection,” Connor said, denying what they had just witnessed.
“Evil,” Shawn said. The area grew chillier with each passing moment.
“Evil?” Connor said with a sneer.
“Fine, why don’t you stroll on over and check it out?” Shawn said with a confident smile.
Connor pursed his lips, clearly knowing he couldn’t back down. He strutted to the area in question, smiling when nothing happened. Suddenly he fell forward. When he climbed to his feet, his eyes were filled with fear.
“I must have tripped over something.” He scurried quickly from the spot.
Faith would have burst out laughing if she hadn’t been so focused on Shawn. Her lover’s breathing was growing ragged.
“Dr. Williams?” she asked. The cameras turned to the shivering Shawn.
“‘Execute me,’” Shawn whispered. “‘Spare me from this slow, torturous death,’” she recited.
“It isn’t just one voice pleading, it’s many. There’s something else lurking here,” she tried to explain as one of the camera lights blinked off.
“Justine, keep filming,” Althea said. “Forget it Ronnie, we’ll get what we can and call it a night,” she calmly told the young cameraman who was about to run off to get a new battery.
Faith blew out a sigh of relief. She knew that changing the batteries would be futile. The only thing she cared about was finishing and getting Shawn away from the bad energy that was obviously wearing on her. Faith watched for another agonizing hour as shadows lurked about and noises erupted from what should have been a quiet space.
“Cut,” Althea wearily called out just as the second camera died. “Okay, people, it’s after four. Time to call it a night. The talent has the day off. I need to go over the editing. We can do the post shots on Wednesday. I’ll call with the times. Pack it up. Mary, thank you.”
“I need a drink,” Connor grunted as he brushed past the weary group.
“Ditto,” Shawn groaned.
Faith wrapped her arms around her tired lover. “The bar it is.”
* * *
“A round of scotch and pints, please,” Shawn begged, slapping a wad of money down on the bar.
“We can sleep in,” Faith said. The group grabbed the drinks and headed for a spot by the fireplace.
“Shawnie, you’re not looking quite right,” Connor said. He downed his scotch and waved for another.
“Back-to-back shoots,” Shawn said in tired voice. “How’s your knee?”
“Fine, nothing happened,” Connor lied. “So, just overworked, or is it a lack of sleep that has you wrung out?”
“Bite me,” Shawn said.
“I believe that post has been taken,” he teased. Faith glared at him. “Got your magnets aligned, did you, Charlie?”
“Do I want to know what he’s referring to?” Shawn asked Faith, who was still glaring at Connor.
“Nope,” Faith said dryly. “So, Connor, getting clumsy all of a sudden, or did something happen back there?”
“I tripped,” he muttered.
“Yeah, or you were pushed.” Faith snickered.
“Bloody hell. I will never go on camera admitting that, but yes, something pushed me. What happened to you, Charlie? You seemed a might skittish.”
“Something yanked on my hair.” Faith shrugged. “I’m glad Althea pulled the plug. I wasn’t looking forward to going back tomorrow. Maybe we can get some rest before going home.”
“I hope so.” Shawn yawned and finished off her drink. “I think I need to be up to par for the Pines shoot. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Neither am I,” Faith said, brushing aside Connor’s offer for another round. “Althea’s already trying to get me to go into the kitchen.”
“Fat chance.” Shawn laughed and released another yawn.
“Bed?” Faith asked tenderly, rubbing the nape of Shawn’s neck.
“Bed.” Shawn nodded. She took Faith by the hand and helped her to feet. “Night, Connor.”
“Have fun,” he called out as the couple exited the bar.
“I’m exhausted.” Faith opened the door to their room. “I can only imagine how you feel.”
“I’m wiped,” Shawn said, looking about the room for their unwanted roommate. “Good, we’re alone. Forgive me if I fall asleep on you.”
“No worries.” Faith shrugged out of her coat. “I may just steal this from wardrobe. The sun’s almost up, and I’m planning on sleeping the day away.”
“I like the way you think,” Shawn murmured, nestling her face against Faith’s chest.
“Just wait to see what I have planned for you when our batteries are charged,” Faith said in a husky tone.
“Hmm, I can’t wait.”
“Is it just me, or is Connor being a bit of an asshole this trip?” Faith asked as they climbed into bed.
“No, he’s being a jerk,” Shawn said. She cuddled against Faith’s warm, inviting flesh. “He misses having you as a playmate. I think he blames me.”
“Why would he blame you?” Faith busied herself rubbing Shawn’s back in a soothing manner.
“Because he’s always had a bit of a crush on you.”
“Get out,” Faith said. “He knows that I only play with parts that match, not fit.”
“True, but before this trip he could at least cling to the hope that he still had a shot. And in the meantime, the two of you could kick up your heels and chase girls together.”
“Idiot,” Faith murmured.
“Can’t say that I blame him.” Shawn kissed Faith’s shoulder. “You can’t help it if you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Are you getting fresh with me?” Faith gasped as Shawn’s kisses began to drift lower.
“Perhaps,” Shawn whispered. Her body warmed from the feel of Faith’s hands wrapping around her.
“Sleep,” Faith said wearily. “I really don’t want to start something neither of us is going to be able to finish.” She kissed Shawn tenderly.
“Sleep,” Shawn agreed after they exchanged a few more kisses.
Chapter 49
Stewart, Massachusetts
October 2005
“Somehow, I thought it would be bigger,” Carey said wryly while she and Rishi unloaded his equipment from the rented Chevy. “You know, after all the hype,” she added. They studied the aging manor. Whispering Pines might not have been as foreboding as she had feared it would, but the old homestead still filled her with an uneasy feeling.
“Wait until we go inside,” Kyle said, checking his camera.
“Kyle,” Freddie, the dark-skinned young woman directing the second unit, said in a dismissive tone, “we don’t know if anything’s going to happen.”
“You haven’t been here before.” Kyle grabbed an extra battery pack.
“You’ve been here before?” Carey as
ked.
“Yeah, I was on the team the last time,” Kyle said with a hard swallow. “I saw the whole freak show up close and personal. I thought, when I signed on for the second unit, that I wouldn’t have to go back in there.”
“What exactly is a second unit?” Carey asked, intrigued by the young cameraman’s agitation.
“You know when you watch a movie or a television program, and the lead is riding through the woods or something like that, and you can’t quite see the actor clearly?” Freddie said. “That stuff is usually filmed by the second unit. We’re the smaller crew that films the extra bits so the main crew can work on more important aspects.”
“We’re filler,” Carey told Rishi, who snorted in response. “That would explain why there are only four of us.”
“Five,” Freddie said as a late model SUV pulled up the lengthy driveway. “Ms. St. James, I’m Freddie Stillman,” she greeted the brunette who climbed out of the vehicle.
“A pleasure.” Delia shook Freddie’s hand. “Detective Jessup,” she greeted Carey warmly.
“Ms. St. James, it’s nice to see you again,” Carey replied politely. “This is my colleague, Dr. Kapoor. He’s with the CSI division.”
“Doctor,” Delia said. “I hope the two of you can find something that will finally help.”
“We’ll do our best,” Rishi said. He unrolled a copy of the original plans for the large home.
Carey studied Delia and Rishi, looking for some clue that the two might be distant relatives. There were small similarities in their features and mannerisms that might be a link, but she could just be imagining it.
“I’ve gone over all of the old case files, and I’d like to start by retracing the steps the original witnesses went through on the morning in question,” Carey said.
“This is wrong,” Rishi noted, studying the old blueprints carefully.
“What do you mean?” Carey peered over his shoulder, looking from the old blueprints up to the house. “It looks the same.”
“It isn’t,” Delia said. “Whoever drew up those plans didn’t build this house.”
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