The deadly silence in the room caught my attention. The sounds of traffic that had filled the air earlier was gone. I slammed the phone onto the counter and stormed over to the laptop sitting on the small coffee table. The screen was black and not a light showed in the crease of the gadget. I couldn’t even send her an email!
I stomped over to the fridge and yanked the door open wide. Through the clear plastic of the vegetable tray, I spied the melon. I pulled the tray out and my fingers closed over the plump fruit. Nudging the fridge door shut with my hip, I turned to the cabinets. Somehow, I just knew there’d be marshmallows.
After the dinner had been short-circuited, I was starving! If I had to bunk in a haunted house, at least I’d gorge on my favorite comfort food. It would be a long time before I’d be able to fall asleep.
I sliced the fruit and dug out the seeds, leaving them in a pulpy mush on the counter. Grabbing a plate and the bag of marshmallows, I headed to the bed. It was stationed against the wall providing a good view of the long room and hallway. If there were any ghosts hanging around, I’d see them coming.
NINE
I WOKE WITH A START. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and I looked around cautiously, my cheek snuggled into the pillow. The sofa and chair were exactly as I’d left them and the laptop was on the coffee table. I pushed myself up and peered over at the kitchen.
The green countertop was shiny and clean. “Hmph!” The melon seeds I’d scooped out were nowhere to be seen. Whatever this was, hanging around the old house was obsessed with order. Probably I’d left a trace of toothpaste in the sink when I’d brushed my teeth before bed and that was why the water had been turned on. It had still been kind of creepy.
I threw the covers back and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the solid coolness of the floor under my feet. I had thought I’d be awake all night, keeping vigil, but I’d slept like a baby. Actually, it was the best sleep I’d had in a long time. Still, I was going to have a few words with my grandmother about all this.
When I passed by the stairwell, I paused, listening for any sounds below. The sun was well above the horizon and it had to be close to eleven. Oh well. It wasn’t like I had to get up for school anymore. Actually, aside from cocktails and dinner with GM my time was pretty much my own. I still didn’t get why she needed me here... not with Lawrence taking care of her. And the fact the room was seriously spooky wasn’t helping her case.
I yawned as I ambled down the hall and into the bathroom. After turning the shower on, I shimmied out of the nightgown and let it fall to the floor. I looked down at it and my eyes narrowed, wondering if the ghost would put it away for me. When I stepped into the tub and felt the water pour down on my head, I smiled.
“Put that away for me, will you Molly?” Molly. The name had popped into my head and seemed just perfect. Molly the Maid. As I rubbed shampoo into my hair, I pictured her, the navy dress with the starched, white lace collar. I mean, if I had to put up with a ghost, at least she was a useful one... so far.
“Do you do laundry, Molly? That’d be nice.”
The door slammed shut and I jumped out of my skin. I swiped the soap from my face and peeked out the curtain. The nightgown was gone. There was no doubt who picked it up but she sure didn’t have a sense of humor. I smiled when the water cascaded over my head, rinsing the shampoo away. I guess laundry was a stretch for her. I’d better not push my luck.
I don’t know why, but in the daytime, ghosts weren’t nearly as scary.
After finishing in the bathroom, taking the time to blow-dry my hair and force some sort of order to my red-tinted curls, I wandered back into the bedroom. The bed was still a disheveled heap of sheets and comforter. I could leave it. Maybe by the time I came back after spending the day exploring the outside, it would be made up—just like in a hotel but without the need to tip.
I chose a blue T-shirt and jean shorts and quickly got dressed. My stomach growled in agreement when I slipped a pair of sandals on and headed downstairs. Lawrence stood at the bottom set of steps, a glass of iced tea in his hand.
“Your grandmother is in the solarium.” His eyes traveled down my bare legs and his eyebrows drew together. “I take it you’re going to explore the grounds today? Perhaps you’d be kind enough to take your grandmother along. She likes to get out to see her roses when the weather is good.”
“Tell her, I’ll join her in a few. I’d like to grab a bowl of cereal and make a coffee.” I was about to step away to go to the kitchen when his voice stopped me cold.
“How did you sleep?”
His eyes bore into mine, searching for any sign of hesitancy.
“Fine, all things considered.” I strode across the foyer and pushed the kitchen door wide. Let him chew on that! There was no way I was letting him know what I’d discovered. If he was trying to get under my skin, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
I helped myself to the corn flakes and smiled seeing the almost full pot of coffee. There wasn’t an item out of place on the counter or table and it was obvious they’d been up for hours. Still, it was nice to have coffee still there.
When I stepped out into the bright sunroom, my grandmother sat regally in the high-backed chair, the collar of her white cotton blouse extended up above a red paisley scarf. Her hair—which yesterday had been upswept—now showed many loose tendrils draping over her shoulders. Even her makeup couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes and the lines in her face. In the bright sunlight every age mark showed in her hands curled around the glass of tea.
“Good morning, GM.” I set my coffee and bowl of cereal on the glass top of the table and plopped down in the chair across from her.
“Hello Keira.” A faint smile lifted her face and her eyes sparkled watching me. “I see you’re dressed for the outdoors today. How was your night in a strange new room?” Like Lawrence earlier, her eyes bore into me.
“It’s strange, all right. You never told me I’d be sharing my room.” I took a bite of cereal and watched her as I chewed.
Her only response was lifting her chin and peering at me, the smile still playing on her lips, waiting for me to continue.
“Yes, Molly has made her presence known. She’s a real clean freak... picks up after me, whether I want her to or not.” My eyes narrowed. “It might have been nice to let me know the house is haunted. But maybe you thought I wouldn’t visit if I knew. Still, you could have prepared me when I got here.”
“Molly?” She straightened in her chair and there was a bright grin on her lips, as she sat back. “Actually her name was Mary Clayburn... although I think Molly is a slang derivative of Mary.”
My mouth paused in my chewing and I could only stare at her for a few moments before swallowing hard. It felt like a lump of coal burning its way down my tight throat. She even knew the woman’s name and hadn’t said word one about it before setting me up in that room!
“Are you shitting me?” I slammed the bowl down onto the table, my appetite now gone.
“Don’t be vulgar, Keira. It doesn’t become you.” She leaned forward. “Of course I knew about Mary or Molly, as you call her. She’s made her presence known ever since I bought this house, many years ago. She worked as a maid in this house.”
“Well that explains the cleaning obsession, I guess.” If she was going to be casual about this, then I wasn’t going to freak out and look silly. The ghost hadn’t hurt me, only startled me... okay, scared the shit out of me, if I was being honest.
Grandmother set the glass of tea on the table and continued. “Don’t be callous. The first owner of the house, Lloyd Marshall, died and the home was to be sold. Mary had loved him for years, raised his children when his wife was stricken with TB and hospitalized. She couldn’t bear the heartache and leaving the place where she’d lived and loved. She poisoned herself. She died a lonely woman.”
My eyebrows drew together and I looked down into the steaming coffee. It was hard to be angry or even flippant about
Molly after hearing that sad tale. To have loved someone that much that she ended her life when he died? That kind of love was hard to fathom.
“How do you know all this? Did you find her diary or something?” Even I knew this kind of detail wouldn’t be available in any research sources.
“Something like that. Yes.” She plucked off a stray white hair which had fallen onto her sleeve, and looked down her nose at it before flicking it away. “Why don’t you try communicating with her? The poor thing is trapped here by her own doing. It can’t be very much fun.”
I just about choked on the coffee which I’d taken a large sip of. Communicate with Molly? What did I look like—some kind of medium? Yeah, Keira Swanson, Ghost Whisperer at large?
“Why don’t you? I mean, it’s your house!” It was ridiculous to be even talking about this! Almost as crazy as a ghost maid hanging around my room.
“I’ve tried, believe me. Not for my sake but for hers. There’re better places for her to be than mooning around this house.” She straightened her collar and there was a smug, self-satisfied look on her face when she looked over at me.
I was about to get up to take my bowl back to the kitchen and get a refill of coffee when a wave of dizziness made me hunch forward and clasp the edge of the table. When I looked over at GM there were two images of her sitting side by side. I blinked hard a few times to clear my eyes.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well, Keira. You’re pale.” GM leaned forward and covered my hand with hers. Her touch was cool and dry on my skin.
“Just a dizzy spell.” When I glanced at her, thankfully, there was only one GM this time. “Maybe my blood pressure is low or something.” But the spell happening just after I’d finished a coffee which Lawrence had made wasn’t lost on me. “I need a glass of water and some fresh air, I think.”
GM tapped her cane on the stone floor a few times and Lawrence appeared in the doorway. “Would you mind clearing the dishes and getting Keira a glass of ice water, dear?”
His gaze shot to me and for just a moment there was a hardness in his eyes, before a smile plastered his face. “Certainly.” He moved forward and picked up the bowl and coffee mug.
“If it’s not too much trouble, can I have a bottle of water?”
He paused. “The well water is fine, let me assure you. It’s charcoal filtered and it’s icy cold coming out of the fridge.” He looked like I’d asked him for something exotic instead of just a bottle of water.
“That’s fine. I’ll get up and get it.” I pushed past him and walked into the house. Tap water was fine but only if I poured it. I didn’t trust Lawrence. And there’d been no mistake from the look he shot me that he resented the hell out of me being there.
As I stood at the fridge holding my glass under the spout for ice water, I noticed a thin notepad and pencil secured by a magnet. There were a few items already there and I picked up the pencil to add a case of bottled water to the list. It would be handier anyway, in case I went for a walk or tried out the boat. On second thought, I added “Perrier” beside my entry.
I passed Lawrence as I walked out of the kitchen. The look in his eyes was still hard and he stepped back to let me pass. It was like I was so repugnant that he didn’t even want to risk brushing up against me.
I couldn’t resist getting in a shot at him. “Oh Lawrence... I’ve added bottled water to the list of groceries. Would you be a dear and put fresh limes on it too? I find gimlets so much better with fresh lime.”
His eyebrows rose and he nodded curtly before pressing on into the kitchen. I couldn’t help but smile.
GM turned from where she was plucking a dead leaf from a plant with a huge pink flower, and made as though she was rising to her feet before plopping back in the chair. “Would you mind taking some photos of the roses when we go outside?”
The air in the greenhouse room was still and sultry with the sun beaming its rays over the floor. I gulped the water down and then set the glass on the table. It would be good to get out into the fresh air, escaping the cloying warmth of the room. “Sure. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back with my camera.”
When I set foot on the flight of stairs to my floor, I wondered if Molly had tidied up my bed. The air on my bare legs and arms became colder the higher I climbed. It was so chilly that the hair on my arms tingled and goose bumps skittered down my spine.
Without warning, there was the sound of footsteps running across the floor of my bedroom, followed by a bump. A loud bump, almost a crashing noise.
I stopped short, my foot still on the step, halfway up to my room. Whatever had raced across the floor and banged something shut wasn’t Molly. Judging by the cold and the fact my heart was galloping in my chest, this was a different entity altogether.
TEN
I STOOD STILL FOR ANOTHER FEW BEATS, willing breath into my lungs and for my heart to slow down. If GM knew about Molly, she probably knew about this other ghost as well. It couldn’t be dangerous. Right? I’d have to trust she wouldn’t do that to me.
I leaned against the steep stairs and peeked over the top step to scan the room for ghosts, goblins, or whatever the hell else it could be. Why had my room become Ghost Central Station anyway? The house was plenty big to accommodate them in other rooms!
The sigh of frustration I let out formed a cloud vapor of front of me. Damn it was cold up here. I stood up on the stairs and ascended the rest of the way. At the top landing the temperature had dropped even more and I rubbed my arms.
Looking over my room, everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as it could be in this place. While my laptop was right where I left it, the clothes I had dropped on the floor earlier were now folded and on top of my dresser. My bed was made and even turned down again. But...
In the center of my bed was my camera—my expensive Canon T5 was lying on its side with the lens cap off.
“That’s it!” I said out loud. I marched down to my bed. This was my room and my stuff! I didn’t like anyone, dead or alive going through my things! I stopped in the center of the room. “Can’t you people respect a person’s privacy?” I said aloud.
I reached over to the bed to see that not only was the cap off, but the glowing red light showed it had been left on. Next to it was an indentation on the bedding, evidence someone or some thing had been sitting there playing with it.
This was definitely another ghost, not Molly. Not only did the room feel different somehow, no way would she leave the bed mussed.
I grabbed the camera and clicked the button on the back to display the pictures I’d already taken—the ones back home of the lake and swans in Central Park. As I scrolled through the images from home I squinted at the small screen. There were new pics.
And I didn’t take them.
The first few were random, off-kilter shots of the coffee table and floor. But the next one showed the face of a young boy. Under the large forehead, his eyes were ferret-like dark slits, while his lips were drawn back in a snarl. Another showed only half his face, his lips loose and eyes open wide. His hair was cut very short and uneven, while the shirt he wore was a striped jersey. It reminded me of the kid in Home Alone.
The hair on the back of my neck stood high all of a sudden. I wasn’t alone in the room anymore. I turned my head slowly and then gasped. He was standing at the foot of my bed, glaring at me with eyes narrowed in anger. My heart leapt to my throat and an icy shiver crept down my spine.
We were both frozen in place staring at each other for what seemed like minutes but was probably only a few seconds. His image began to waver at the edges like the heat waves above a highway on a hot summer’s day.
I took a deep breath, willing my voice from my throat which was suddenly dry as dust. “Who are you?”
For a moment he was silent, and then he spoke.
“Sam.” It was the high-pitched voice of a young boy. He stepped back and the top of his pants; worn, raggedy jeans came into view. He had to be only nine or ten years old from his
size, but still, his sudden appearance made my blood run cold.
“What are you doing here?” I felt like I was in a dream— that this couldn’t be happening. A ghost, a young boy was standing only a few feet away and I was asking him questions? And he was answering?
I crossed into the Twilight Zone from the first moment I entered this house.
“It’s my room. Why are you here? Did Mama send you up?” His image faded a little and once more he took a step, or rather floated backward in retreat. His eyes now showed fear and his hands were fisted at his sides.
His Mama? What the heck was he talking about?
A flash of the room, a small iron bed and some wooden toys on the floor, while the young boy stood looking out the window, appeared in my head and I jerked back. The vision and emotions that accompanied it was enough to tell me the story. Yes, this had been his room at one time. I sighed sadly. He died up here. I hadn’t a clue how I knew this, but I’d stake my life on that fact.
The boy was watching me warily, with dark waves of fear emanating from his body. He was a prisoner here. He looked around at the room and when he turned to look at me again, the fear was now terror showing in the whites of his eyes.
Haunted By The Succubus Page 25
