“Um…what?” I struggled to keep my voice down. “I thought you had a foolproof plan!”
May gave me a faint smile. “What on earth gave you that idea?”
Mavis nudged her sister. “Did you remember to bring a torch?”
“I think so.” May looked suddenly flustered.
“Well, we won’t get far without one, so you had better check!”
I tapped my foot impatiently as May knelt to rummage through her bag. The delay wasn’t helping my nerves. The faster we got this over with, the better. I didn’t need time to dwell on all the possible outcomes and change my mind.
Through the open door, I heard a soft rustling of plumage nearby and turned to see a horned owl perched in the old oak. Its eyes were the color of lemons and its white chest reflected the moonlight. It watched me without blinking. I was pretty sure the look was intended to say, Turn back, girlie. It’s not too late. There was something hypnotic about the bird’s eyes. Light seemed to spill from them and engulf me. I felt the all-too-familiar sensation of being sucked through space and time. I tried to resist, but it was like trying to swim against the current. Not now, I thought. Please, not now. But of course, it happened anyway.
* * *
I stand in the foyer of Grange Hall as it once was. Carter is there, lingering at the library door, his ear pressed against it and his fingers twitching on the handle. A gamut of emotions cross his face, but finally an expression that can only be described as unmitigated rage dominates. I’m so close to him I can smell the cigar smoke and whiskey on his breath. His forehead is filmed with sweat and a vein throbs at his temple. His body is taut as a bowstring and ready to snap. It’s obvious what has him so riled. I, too, can hear the feverish whispers coming from inside the room. Then, while Carter remains locked behind the barrier, the door becomes permeable to me and, as if in a dream, I’m able to pass right through it.
Isobel and Alexander are no longer distinct individuals but a tangle of limbs on a velvet chaise. I’ve never seen them like this, so hungry for one other. Alexander claws at the lace collar of her gown, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He buries his face in her swanlike neck and drinks her in like a parched man who’s just found water. Isobel moans softly and her whole body vibrates in response to his touch.
“I’ve missed you,” she says ardently.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers back.
“Make love to me, Alexander,” she moans. “As if there’s only the two of us left in the world.”
As if by magic the door becomes transparent. Through it I can see that Carter’s face has settled into an eerie sort of mask. His skin is a mottled shade of purple, and I wonder if he’s forgotten to breathe. For a moment, I think he’s about to burst in on the lovers, but instead, he backs away with the stealth of a cat.
I don’t know why, but I decide to follow him. He climbs the stairs one step at a time as if he needs to gather his thoughts. When he reaches the second floor, he stops outside a door. For a moment he sways unsteadily and leans his forehead against the wood. Then he turns the handle and slips inside. I follow him into a nursery decorated in various shades of blue with a frieze of dancing bears around the walls.
The window is half-open and I can hear the distant hum of cicadas outside. Carter moves methodically across the room and shuts it firmly. The sun is setting. As it drops behind the line of the horizon, it sets the sky on fire. There’s something too brash, too violent in the merging of colors.
The nursery is charming, with a rocking horse stationed by the window and an open trunk bursting with toys. They’re the kind you don’t see anymore: a mechanical bear with cymbals attached to its paws, a miniature train set and carved wooden soldiers. In the crib, a baby sleeps. He’s the most angelic thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can see Alex in his sleeping face. He has the same symmetry in his fine features, and if he opened his eyes I imagine they would be the same pure shade of cornflower blue.
Carter walks over to the crib and studies the sleeping child. For a moment he doesn’t move, then he reaches in his hand and adjusts the blanket away from its tiny pink face. His sways on his feet and his expression turns stony as he picks up a lacy pillow. He inhales the scent, eyes ringed with red from liquor and sleeplessness.
For a moment, I actually think he’s going to put it under the baby’s head. But he doesn’t. Instead he clenches his jaw, closes his eyes and brings it down over the child’s face. His hand is flat and broad as he presses down on the pillow, grinding his teeth with the lunacy that’s overtaken him.
It’s not hard to smother a sleeping baby. Minimal effort is required. There’s no struggle, no muffled sounds. This could be a scene from a movie, only it’s real and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t change the past, and I can’t save the child being murdered in front of my eyes. I feel dizzy, and a heaving sensation rises in my stomach. I seriously hope I faint, because I can’t watch any more. I clamp my shaking hands over my mouth to stop from screaming.
* * *
“Come along, Chloe!” a familiar voice called out.
“Hold on just a second!” I sagged against a balustrade and waited for the vision to release me from its hold. Relief washed over me as I transitioned back to the present. Mavis and May watched me with concern from the porch.
“What’s wrong? Are you unwell?”
“I’m fine,” I croaked, knowing the image of that child, sleeping peacefully just seconds before his death, would never be erased from my mind.
While the rest of Grange Hall slept, the three of us walked silently into the dark night. A crater-faced moon hung in the sky as we made our way to the lake. There had been a light fall of snow, and the grass crunched underfoot, loud enough to announce our arrival to anyone listening. Otherwise, the night was soundless. Not even the rustle of the wind in the treetops could be heard. We passed a stone angel in the garden, hands folded over her chest, eyes turned heavenward. As we approached, the statue began to tremble, then lurched slowly forward as if it were drunk. The Hunt sisters didn’t seem to notice, but I took it as a clear warning. Trouble lay ahead, and we should turn back. But it was too late now.
“If all goes well tonight, Chloe, ghosts will never trouble Grange Hall again,” May told me. She looked as excited as a Girl Scout on her first camping trip, but my mind immediately conjured Alex’s face. Isobel was one thing, but I didn’t want to send him away. Pathetic as it might seem, I was still holding out hope of seeing him again.
“Not all spirits are bad,” I muttered.
“But Isobel is,” Mavis said. “And it’s up to us to stop her.”
“Is all this really necessary?” I asked. “What if I just go back to California? Then I and my special gift will be out of her way.”
“That’s true,” Mavis agreed. “But do you really want to leave Grange Hall at her mercy? Sooner or later another medium will come along. What if it’s another child, like Benjamin?”
I really couldn’t argue with that. Isobel was capable of anything. Conscience alone compelled me to act.
“You’re right,” I said glumly. “It’s just that…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, but they seemed to read my thoughts anyway. Maybe they’d known all along.
Mavis put a ringed hand on my shoulder. “He’s not really here, you know, dear.”
My lip trembled and I swallowed the rising lump in my throat. “I know that.”
“Nothing good can come from loving a ghost.”
“But he hasn’t crossed over yet,” I objected. “And he doesn’t want to.” Even I knew I was feebly grasping at straws.
“That makes no difference.” Mavis’s eyes were kind but firm. “He can never give you what you need. I’m sorry, Chloe.”
I looked away. I couldn’t think about Alex for too long without feeling my chest tighten up and my eyes
begin to smart.
“You need to be strong now,” May said, her voice full of resolve. “For everyone. You might not be able to bring Alexander Reade back from the dead…but you can stop others from joining him.”
* * *
In the darkness, the walk through the wood seemed to take longer than I remembered. Thoughts of Alex relentlessly pounded my brain. I found it hard to believe he could abandon me at a time like this. Didn’t he care what happened to me? I found myself wishing I could wipe him from my memory. I wanted to go back to my first day at Grange Hall and never wander into those woods where I’d found him.
Soon the lake came into view. Mist snaked around my ankles like a thousand clammy hands. The water looked like a vast ink stain, stretching before us.
“Can you see anything?” May asked tensely. I could feel the air around me beginning to electrify. We all felt it.
“She’s coming,” Mavis answered.
It felt strange to be openly seeking out Isobel when I’d spent all my time at Grange Hall trying to avoid her. Now we were calling her out to play. It was like putting yourself in the path of a wild dog; all your instincts tell you to run like hell, but you decide to stand your ground. I didn’t feel particularly courageous; my legs were like jelly and I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. Already I knew we were being watched. I looked out at the calm surface of the brackish water. It was too quiet, even if it was after midnight. The silence itself weighed down the air. Our frosty breaths filtered out like wreaths of smoke.
“Maybe she won’t show,” I said, but we all knew it was wishful thinking.
“Ghosts are creatures of routine,” Mavis replied. “She’ll come.”
My feet were already taking involuntary steps backward. “I don’t think we should go through with this. I have a bad feeling…”
The sisters converged around me like members of a support group. “You can do this, Chloe. Isobel may be stronger than us, but she’s not stronger than you. You have so much untapped potential. Don’t back out now… .”
But I wasn’t listening to them anymore. I heard her laughter before I saw her. The air around us became glacial, and the dew on my coat hardened into droplets. There was a rustling sound in the reeds before I caught sight of her white dress silhouetted against the trunk of a weeping willow. She had her arms wound around its girth as if she was playing a game of hide-and-seek. The leaves swirled in an eddy around her ankles. Isobel’s eyes were bright, her chin lifted in the same self-assured pose I’d come to recognize as her own. Her black hair was hanging free and wild. I’d never seen anyone look so beautiful and so wild at the same time.
“I see her,” I whispered, and I heard the women draw breath in tandem.
“Stay calm, Chloe,” May urged. “Remember—fear is your biggest enemy.”
But I couldn’t stay calm. This was it. The final showdown. I took a hesitant step forward, my mouth dry and my palms clammy.
“It’s just you and me now, Isobel,” I called out.
Her lip curled in a smile. At the same time I felt invisible vines wrap around me, drawing me toward the footbridge that led to the other side of the lake. I realized that must be Isobel’s side. I’d always seen her there.
Then something happened I wasn’t expecting. The world on the other side of the lake seemed to shift, its color leaching, and everything solid crumbled to dust. I found myself looking into a shadow world, a pale imitation of life, like a poor mirror image. Isobel stood silently, waiting for me. The phantom ropes dragged me onto the bridge, and I heard May’s voice behind me.
“Chloe, no! Don’t cross over,” she called out. “You must stay with us. You might not find your way back!”
I heard the hammer of footsteps behind me and turned around, but Mavis and May were gone.
* * *
I’m no longer by the lake but back at the house. The polished staircase gleams in the lamplight. The world seems unsteady, like I’m watching footage taped by a cameraman whose hands are shaking.
Carter charges past with a wolfish glint in his eyes and a crazed grin on his face. He’s disheveled, his jacket missing and his shirt untucked. He lurches, and I know the whiskey has long taken effect. He grabs hold of the banister to steady himself, but there’s an unshakable resolve in his eyes. I’m afraid for anyone who encounters him like this. Isaac sticks his head through the kitchen door, but after taking one look at his master, he retreats.
In my dreamlike state I’m able to speed past Carter, guided by an unknown force. I know where I’m going—back to the library, where Alexander and Isobel are still absorbed in one another, completely ignorant of what has just transpired. Part of me thinks I might be able to issue some kind of warning and change the course of history for Grange Hall.
I find the lovers where I left them. Their passion spent, they lie with their limbs entwined, talking lazily about nothing in particular. Ornaments from a nearby side table have toppled to the floor. No one has bothered to retrieve them. They’re too lost in one another to notice.
“Hey!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “You have to get out of here!”
Alex smiles dreamily, oblivious to my presence. “Do you know what I’m thinking, my love?” he asks, his fingers tangled in her hair.
Isobel lifts her head from his shoulder and looks at him curiously. “Tell me,” she whispers.
“We should go to Italy.” He lowers his lips to her forehead. “Like Percy Shelley and Mary. She was only seventeen and he was already married, but love overcame all their impediments.”
Isobel casts her eyes up to the chandelier and sighs. “What a wildly romantic story.”
“We shall take James, of course.” It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about their son, who’s lying lifeless in his crib upstairs.
“Do you really think we could?” I watch Isobel’s face change as the idea takes root in her imagination.
“Of course.” He smiles. “We would finally be free.” Their combined laughter ripples around the room.
“When do you expect Carter back?” Alexander’s tone turns sober, but Isobel only stretches languidly.
“Not for days, my love. He’s in London on business. Don’t fret. Shall I ring for tea?”
“In a moment. Let me look at you awhile longer.”
Through the transparent door, I see Carter steady himself, preparing to launch like a missile into the library. One arm is positioned oddly behind his back, as if he’s shielding something. He’s a strong, broad-shouldered man, and it takes only a second for him to ram open the door.
Instantly the room becomes charged with adrenaline.
“Carter!” Isobel springs to her feet and her face drains of color. Alexander’s expression is less fearful and more resigned, as if he knows ahead of time the fate that awaits them all. Carter looks like a raging bull, cheeks burning with fury. His eyes travel over the scene before him. His wife and younger brother are both still in a state of undress. There is no denying what has transpired here…no excuses…no way out. They are both trapped. No one speaks, and yet the silence is deafening. It roars in my ears. Finally, Carter lets out a muffled growl. Isobel is the first to find her voice.
“This was my doing!” she cries. “Punish me, but do not blame Alexander for my indiscretion.”
Carter gives his wife a passing glance, something between loathing and indifference. “Oh, I’ve no doubt who the instigator was,” he replies. The lack of emotion in his voice is chilling. I feel my stomach plummet. Alex pushes Isobel behind him, refusing to let her bear the brunt of Carter’s wrath. I don’t blame him; the look in Carter’s eyes is one of a madman. “You are both fools,” he hisses, “to think you can mock me like this. Under my own roof! Is this how you repay my generosity, brother?”
“We did not intend for this to happen,” A
lex begins, but his voice falters, as though he doesn’t feel he has any right to defend himself. Carter throws back his head and roars with a demented sound.
“Your intention is noted. But you shall both pay the price for this.” Isobel rushes to Carter’s side and falls to her knees.
“Please!” she implores. “I beg you to forgive us.”
Carter reaches down and seizes a fistful of her hair, dragging her to her feet.
“Don’t touch her!” Alexander runs to her aid, but before he can reach her, I catch a glimpse of something polished appearing from behind Carter’s back. A second later he’s pointing the barrel of a Colt Dragoon Revolver at his brother’s chest. I’m not sure how I know the name of the gun. I just do. And I know that’s its sleek and powerful and deadly.
Isobel screams, her eyes filled with panic. The words spill out and ricochet around the room. “I beg you, don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything you ask!”
Carter looks down at her as if he thinks he might be contaminated by her touch.
“It’s too late for that, my darling.” He throws her roughly aside, and she crashes into the fireplace. Soot stains her hands and tears stream down her cheeks. “You were a whore when I married you, and you’re still a whore today.”
“I’m so sorry,” Isobel sobs. I’m not sure whether the words are meant for Carter or Alexander or both.
“I took you in,” Carter roars. “You were penniless with nothing but your looks to recommend you. I gave you a life of luxury, and this is the thanks I get.”
“Listen to me…” Alexander begins, trying to reason with him. “Please try to…” He falls silent when Carter cocks the gun. Keeping it pointed firmly at his brother, Carter stalks over to Isobel, his boots heavy on the plush rug. “What a fine example you have set for our son,” he sneers. “I had hoped he would take after me. But today I learned that only the blood of an adulterous harlot and a coward ran through his veins.”
Isobel stops midsob at his use of the past tense. A hideous realization grips her. She lets out a strangled sound and, wide-eyed with terror, pushes past Carter and bolts upstairs.
Ghost House Page 23
