Psychic Surveys Companion Novels

by Shani Struthers

  Angus recovered first. “You’re right, that’s a pack of lies. We have come to see what all the fuss is about, but for a good reason, the best of reasons actually. My name is Angus Macbrae and this is Ness Patterson, I’m from Skye, Ness is from Lewes, not the island—”

  “I know where Lewes is,” she barked.

  “Oh, right,” Angus dared to speak again. “I can tell from your accent you’re not local.”

  “I’m from London,” she said. “West Ken. I live here now though, this is my property.”

  He inclined his head to the ruin. “But there is no property.”

  “There’s a lodge. I’m comfortable enough in it.”

  “The lodge,” he repeated. “Where the spirits could gather.”

  Her fury erupted. “That’s it, get off my land. Idiots! Utter idiots! You don’t know what you’re dealing with. I’m warning you, if you don’t go, I’ll call the police.”

  “Please,” I said, taking my turn at trying to appease her, “just listen to us, hear us out. It’s as my friend says, we’ve come for the best of reasons, although…” I hesitated, “the worst of reasons too. What happened here, it may be happening again, over on Skye—”

  “Don’t pretend you know what you’re talking about.”

  “I do though, I honestly do. I’m a psychic.”

  That surprised her. “A psychic? Prove it.”

  My heart sank. Prove it? How could I do that? It wasn’t as if there was a convenient spirit hovering close by, either good or bad. You can sometimes catch thoughts. True, but it wasn’t all the time, it was more random than by design. Even so, if I could catch what was on her mind, even just a word or two, it’d be something in our favour.

  “If you could formulate a thought,” I said, “I’ll try and see what it is. I know that’s not necessarily proving I’m a psychic, but what it will do is prove I have extra-sensory skills.”

  “You want me to think something?”

  “Besides us being stupid,” I added, chancing a smile.

  “That would be too easy I suppose.” Was that a hint of a smile on her face too?

  “Just… pluck something out of the blue,” I advised.

  “Okay, I will.”

  She closed her eyes and raised her head a little, as if in salute to the sun.

  I was grateful; it allowed me to stare at her unhindered, to focus. What was she thinking? What could she possibly be thinking? I continued to stare, biting at my lip – what the hell was it? Panic set in. Thoughts were easier to detect if the other person was psychic too, or had a degree of psychic ability; with non-psychics it was so much harder. Oh, please, please, let me get something – a word, two words, a few even.

  If I failed, she was going to run us off her land, and there’d be nothing we could do about it. I doubted severely if my connections with the Sussex police would count for anything – we had to get her permission to look around, we had to. Come on, please, pick up a word, just a word, anything. Ness, come on!

  Don’t try so hard. Those were the words that eventually appeared – all four of them in my mind, perfectly scribed. Was it self-administered advice or could it possibly be…

  “Don’t try so hard!” I whispered the words in the vain hope I was right.

  She opened her eyes and fixed them on me, another slow smile developing. “You know, it really is so much easier if you just allow your gift to flow.”

  I smiled too, partly in wonder. “You believe me then?”

  She nodded.

  “And you’re psychic too?”

  “I’m intuitive. Let’s leave it at that. Tell me the truth about why you’re here.”

  As she asked the heavens opened.

  “Come on,” she said, her back hunched against the sudden downpour, “come to the lodge house. If you’re brave enough, that is.”

  She started running, and without hesitation Angus and I followed her, reaching the door of the tiny structure that stood just a few metres from what remained of Balskeyne.

  Disappearing into the bathroom whilst we stood inside the doorway, she returned with towels for us to dry our hair, waiting patiently for us to perform the deed before taking them from us and dropping them back in the bathroom. We were then ushered into a small living room, where a log fire remained unlit and books crowded every surface.

  “You like to read?” I said, picking up one book. Not a work of fiction, it was called Symbols of Eternity. I quickly scanned the titles of the other books I could see. They were all non-fiction, all dealing with esoteric subjects.

  “Take a seat,” she said, offering us neither coffee nor tea.

  We did, Angus opting for the sofa and having to shift several books aside. I took the armchair that was opposite her, looking longingly at the fire, wishing it were lit.

  “What’s been happening on Skye?” she said. Regarding bluntness, I’d met my match.

  As succinctly as I could I explained, noticing that when I told her about the visions she started to pick at her nails.

  “I see,” she said, when I’d finished. “So that’s the link, the fact that the lighthouse keeper was overheard mentioning Balskeyne.”

  “And there was the visitor to the lighthouse, someone Liam didn’t recognise, someone he didn’t like the look of. It was after those visits that Mr Cameron changed.”

  “It could be something and nothing,” she said, leaning into her chair

  “But what if it’s something?” Angus asked, both of us turning to look at him. “Just saying,” he shrugged, going slightly red again.

  I returned my gaze to the woman. “Erm… sorry, I don’t even know your name…”

  “Shelley Cooper-Brown,” she replied curtly.

  “Shelley, we were… erm… quite shocked to see that the house had burnt down. Did that happen recently?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one was hurt?”

  “No one.”

  I don’t know where I got the courage from, but I had to ask. “Did you do it?”

  She stared at me for so long that I grew hot and sweaty under her gaze, any chill I’d felt before, forgotten. And then to my relief, she laughed, a deep, throaty sound. We waited patiently until she stopped, until she spoke again.

  “I admire your cheek,” she said eventually. “In answer to your question, no, I didn’t do it. It was an accident, a kitchen fire that got out of hand. I wasn’t here you see, I was stocking up on groceries in Inverness. By the time I got back, it was raging. And I let it rage. Everything happens for a reason, and fire can be so wonderfully cleansing.”

  “Perhaps the lighthouse should go the same way?” I suggested, even more boldly.

  “You’re an arsonist now as well as a psychic?”

  I hung my head. “No. No, I’m not.”

  “Didn’t think so,” she said. “There’s actually no need to go to such lengths. It’s enough if there’s an overseer. That’s what I am, an overseer, I keep things in check.”

  “There are plans for the lighthouse to be made into a guesthouse. Angus is going to manage it.”

  She turned towards him. “You’ll be an overseer too.”

  Angus paled slightly. “I’m not sure I’m up to that,” he cried.

  “Believe it and you will be,” Shelley answered.

  “So,” I said, “this place, Balskeyne, does it live up to its reputation?”

  “Concerning Isaac Leonard? Perhaps. You’ve told me you know something of the ritual he performed here, one that took many months, much patience, and meticulous planning. He may have been successful to a degree, but that’s because he really had chosen the ideal place – this land is drenched in negative energy – long before the house was built.”

  “Oh?” I said, curious.

  “In the twelfth century, there was a kirk here, a church in other words. No one knows for sure why, but one day, during a service, a fire broke out, right at the entrance to the church. There were a lot of people in attendance and none escaped. After tha
t, in the 1760s, Balskeyne was built as a hunting lodge. The owner, Colonel Aleister Fraser, was involved in a duel thereafter and shot dead just feet from his own front door, his blood soaking the land. When Leonard lived here, doing whatever he was doing, a lot of strange goings-on were reported by people hereabouts. There were tales of people dying or mysteriously disappearing, even a butcher who chopped his hand off after receiving a meat order from the house. Part of the ritual involved summoning a number of demons, all harbingers of negative energy; it could have been these who ran amok locally, causing havoc. Or…” she paused to take a breath, to look at both of us in turn, “… it could all be imagination, which in itself is powerful. People believed this place was cursed. Through the centuries they believed that. And so it came to pass. Who knows? I don’t. Not really.”

  “So what are you doing here?” asked Angus. “What are the duties of an overseer?”

  “To restore balance.”

  Angus looked at me. “It really is as simple as that?” he queried. “Don’t you get scared? I mean alone here, at night.”

  “No, I don’t. I keep my imagination in check.”

  “But what if there really are demons?” he persisted.

  “Not within me there aren’t. I purged my demons a long time ago. And that’s why I’m not scared. They’ve nothing to seize hold of.” Shelley then did what I feared she was going to do; she focused solely on me. “If there is something at the lighthouse, if it’s something similar to what was once rife here, you need to tread carefully.”

  I nodded slowly, wondering if the demons in me were really that easy to see. “The man that used to visit Mr Cameron, could it have been Isaac Leonard himself?”

  “In the seventies? No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Leonard left Scotland in ’67 and died a few years later, in Haiti of all places.”

  “He died?”

  “Yes, his death is well documented, in certain circles anyway. He was dabbling in voodoo by then, no doubt trying to master it as he once attempted to master the dark side here, and being driven insane for his troubles. But I have a theory about that.”

  “Which is?”

  “That he was mad anyway.”

  I couldn’t help but feel the same. “If it wasn’t him, then who could it be?”

  “No telling, is there? But after it had lain empty for a while, an American couple bought Balskeyne, no doubt thrilled by its bargain price if nothing else, and ran it as a guesthouse until 1980, and if there were any repeat visitors, I’d have to question why.”

  “Because of the bad vibes?” said Angus.

  “Of course,” Shelley answered.

  “That couple, didn’t they feel those vibes too?”

  “Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t – children are far more sensitive than adults, which is why I knew you were lying instantly when I first met you – there’s no way you’d have come back if you’d stayed here when you were younger. On the other hand, it’s amazing how oblivious adults can be. One thing I do know is that Leonard still has many devotees, people who make a pilgrimage here. That’s why I have to be careful you see. Why I have to run at you, shouting and threatening the odds with the police. I can’t let just anyone roam these grounds. It’s all about the balance. As long as it exists, I’m safe.”

  “But at Minch Point, it could be unbalanced?” I said.

  “I’m afraid so. And the game you mentioned, Thirteen Ghost Stories, that could have unsettled matters further.”

  And now, as the property lay empty, that negativity was growing in strength. There was no one to challenge it, if anything it had been encouraged, no matter how unwittingly.

  Quickly I came to a decision. “I’m going back there. Tomorrow.”

  “Are we?” Angus muttered. “I suppose it’s about time.”

  I ignored him, staring at Shelley as she was staring at me – her dark eyes just as penetrating as Eilidh’s.

  Finally she spoke. “I don’t think you’re the person for the job.”

  “Because of my demons?” I said boldly.

  “In a way, yes.”

  “I’m going anyway.”

  “Can’t you come with us?” Angus asked Shelley.

  She shook her head. “My place is here.”

  “Then what’s your advice?” I said. “Give us that at least.”

  “The only advice I can give you is what I suspect you know already. Give what’s there nothing to feed on. Because if there is something, if there is a weakness, it will find it.”

  “Everyone has a weakness,” I insisted.

  “But it’s about degrees of weakness. Some of us happen to be content. If you really want my advice, then it’s leave, go home! Like I said, you’re not the person for the job.”

  Thirteen Chapter Seventeen

  “How dare she! She knows nothing about me.”

  “She said she’s intuitive.”

  I glared at Angus as I yanked his car door open. “She’s presumptuous, that’s what she is. I’m not going home, not yet. Just because she thinks it’s for the best.”

  “There’s no need to get narky with me, Ness. I’m glad you’re staying.”

  My breathing was heavy as Angus turned the engine over. “We need to find out what happened to the Camerons,” I muttered, as much to myself as him. “They disappeared, but not into thin air, they went somewhere.” I looked up. “I need to get to a phone.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to phone one of my police contacts, see if they can run a search on the Camerons for me.”

  “You think something bad might have happened to them?”

  “It’d be handy to know, one way or the other.”

  “Okay,” Angus replied, nodding. “I’ll also ask around, see what I can dig up.” He smiled ruefully. “Actually, perhaps that’s a poor choice of phrase, considering.”

  My smile was somewhat rueful too. “I can do this you know.”

  He held his hands up. “I’m not the one saying you can’t, remember?”

  That was true, neither him nor his mother. But Shelley… My throat constricted again. She wanted me to give up, because I wasn’t at peace with myself as much as she was. Maybe I wasn’t, but one thing I had was determination. I’d make sure my efforts paid off.

  After she’d ‘denounced’ me, as I’d interpreted it, Shelley asked if we’d like to take a walk through the grounds.

  “Don’t expect to sense much though,” she’d warned. “I run a tight ship here.”

  And it was true, I hadn’t sensed much at all, a simmering perhaps, a skulking even, something hiding in a corner, plotting and planning, but those plans coming to nothing. I was awed with what she’d achieved, and that annoyed me further.

  Before we’d departed, she’d said to me. “You know about white light?”

  “Of course,” I answered.

  “Good intent?”

  “Yes, I’ll go to the lighthouse with nothing but good intent.”

  She nodded. “Because even evil needs to be understood.”

  I remained mute. Was she trying to get at me again?

  “You have obsidian in your pocket?”

  I gasped. How did she know? Intuitive, that’s how. She was damned intuitive.

  “Cleanse it regularly,” she continued, “by moonlight is best, otherwise in bright sunlight. Prevent any negativity from clinging to it.”

  “I know, I do.” God, I sounded like a petulant child.

  “Good.”

  On the drive back to Skye, the sun re-emerged, but it was nowhere near as bright as before. Even so, the light was still beautiful, hazy almost. As I stared out of the passenger window again, I had to admit, despite how irked I was, that the balance Shelley was talking about made perfect sense and how easily it could be tipped one way or the other. If it could be maintained, then both sides could co-exist, in harmony almost, like night and day – the two opposites, the yin and the yang. It was an intriguing concept, one that co
nsumed me so much I had no idea we’d reached the Kyle until Angus announced it.

  “We’ve a bit of time to kill before the ferry gets here,” he continued, “so let’s head to the pub, and get that drink we’d promised ourselves. And don’t worry; I’m fine with lemonade. Something tells me it’s wise to keep a clear head at the moment.”

  It was – very wise.

  “There’ll be a phone in the pub too,” he added. “If you want to phone that contact of yours.”

  As soon as we were inside, I did just that, the response I got from my contact being what I’d expected; he’d try and find out about the Camerons, but couldn’t promise anything. As he pointed out, some people just didn’t want to be found. I was grateful for any help though and, after ringing off, went to buy Angus his drink.

  Later, back on Skye, Eilidh had prepared a one-pot vegetable stew complete with dumplings that I realised I was ravenous for, devouring two sizeable helpings. Both Angus and I explained what had happened that day, and I announced my intention to go back to the lighthouse in the morning, breaking it to Angus that I wanted to go alone.

  “But—”

  “Please,” I said, interrupting him. “If I’m alone, it’s easier to focus.”

  “What about the visions? What if you get them again?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ll deal with them.”

  “Really?”

  It wasn’t just him who raised an eyebrow this time. Eilidh did too.

  “I think you should take Angus with you,” she said, “as back-up if nothing else.”

  The irritation I’d felt earlier hadn’t quite died down. I had to fight to keep my voice steady. “I thought you both believed in me?”

  “We do,” they replied, almost in unison.

  “Then please, can you trust me on this?”

  A moment of silence stretched on and on.

  Eilidh eventually spoke. “We trust you.”

  I exhaled heavily, not realising quite how much I’d needed to hear that.

  “You’ll be wanting to borrow my car?” Angus asked.

  “Yes please, I’ll get up early, and go first thing. It’s a cleansing I want to perform tomorrow. I’m learning Reiki, so I’ll be incorporating that, trying to balance the energy, as Shelley recommended, as well as using psychic persuasion if it’s needed.”