The Wayland Manor Haunting (Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Two Series Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  I crossed my arms. “Did you know my sister?”

  He shook his head and appeared a bit embarrassed. “No. I never met her. I’m sorry if I’m crossing the line, Macie. I don’t mean to offend you. I am not great with words.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a tad sorry for him. Jericho’s expression conveyed sincerity. Still, it was a subject I didn’t care to chat casually about. “No, you’re okay. I guess you heard about the Leaf Academy,” I said sourly.

  Jericho denied knowing anything. “Never heard of it. I assume that is a school. I never knew your sister, Macie.”

  Sierra called my name, and I happily excused myself to go see what was up. This conversation was too weird for me.

  “What do you think about him?” Sierra asked as she covertly jerked her blond head toward Jericho, who was still piddling around the back of the van.

  “I don’t know. Reading people is not my strong suit. Let me ask you something, Sierra. Does he know that my sister—I mean, he’s not one of those weird fanboys, is he? You know, obsessed with her death?”

  Even as I asked the question, I felt a strange sickness in the pit of my stomach. It was a sad truth. There were a lot of weirdos out there who thought they could connect with me through Jocelyn’s accidental death. The paranormal community was loaded with insensitive screwballs like that. I had done my best to keep a low profile, and I didn't look much like Jocelyn, but that didn’t stop the busy bees from asking inappropriate questions.

  I would never believe that Sierra would allow anyone with that kind of bizarre interest in Jocelyn’s death to have a spot on the Gulf Coast Paranormal team, but I had to be sure. I had to hear it for myself. I needed to. I was on the brink of tears, and that never happened.

  “He never said anything to me about Jocelyn. To be honest, I don’t think he has very much experience at all. But Joshua likes him, and he does have a good energy about him. Why? Has he said or done something inappropriate? That’s not cool.” Sierra put her hand on her tiny hip in her specific sassy fashion. She had a sense of style about her beyond t shirts and a black leather jacket.

  “No. He’s harmless enough, I guess. I’m just being too sensitive. I like him. What’s the game plan tonight?” Eager to change the subject, I grabbed my worn crossbody satchel as she turned off the lights and locked the door.

  “We will start with the tour of the house. Just like Big Brother used to do, we will do a walk-through and then target the hot spots. You know how it is; you can make all the plans you want, but it’s really up to the spirits. The hot spots at Wayland Manor are an upstairs closet, the south addition and generally the backyard, but I don’t know. I have some other ideas too, but I kind of want to keep things to myself because I want to get everyone’s honest opinion. Does that sound cool to you?”

  “Yep. Love it.” I felt relieved. It would do no good to come into this being paranoid. Obviously, these people were not out to get me. I was being paranoid. “Sounds like a plan, Si Si.” We loaded up into two vehicles; I rode with Joshua and Sierra, while Carmen and Jericho rode in the van. We didn’t say much on the way over to Wayland Manor, which was out past Dawes Road. I busied myself by tinkering with my phone, turning off notifications and whatnot. Sierra was scribbling something in her little mini notepad. Josh was giving the drivers around him a piece of his mind. Talk about anger issues. Sierra occasionally reminded him that he was scaring me, but he didn’t scare me at all.

  I was way worse than Joshua when it came to driving. Especially on my bike, which was currently in the shop. It was almost always in the shop these days. I missed the freedom of driving my Harley. I didn’t belong to any clubs or anything like that. I preferred being by myself. That was something Jocelyn and I had had in common. We’d respected that in one another, I think.

  I miss you, Jo.

  “Here we are, y’all. Isn’t it a monster of a house?” Sierra asked as we pulled into the driveway. “This is the third incarnation of Wayland House, later called Wayland Manor for some reason. The first two burned down, both under suspicious circumstances. Before that, it was sacred land. But who the land belonged to, nobody can say. At one time, the Choctaw claimed it, then the Mauvilla. It’s got an interesting vibe. What do you say, Joshua? Walk-through first? I see Amanda’s car in the driveway. The blue Jetta.”

  “Yeah, walk-through first. Wow, this is a big space, isn’t it? I hope we have enough equipment for this gig,” he said as he released his seat belt and stared up at the grand two-story house. It wasn’t like an old plantation; there were no columns and wide porches. It was definitely built to be a “manor house.” It was an austere building with massive wooden doors and little yard décor except a few topiary trees here and there. This wasn’t my kind of place.

  But at least it wasn’t the Leaf Academy.

  My first instinct was to say, “I don’t like this place,” but I did so quietly. I had no special gifts, not like Sierra. I had to work with my gift to get a good vibe on any location. But I was comfortable with my writing, and my fingers were already tapping. I was eager to hunker down and tune in.

  “Don’t forget we’ve been given a three-night pass here. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Let’s move slow and get Amanda some answers. There she is. Come on, y’all.” Sierra slid out of the van, and we followed behind her like ducklings gathering behind a Mama Duck. Funny that I would think of that.

  “Hello, Sierra. Joshua, nice to finally meet you. You must be Macie. Sierra has told me all about you. Automatic writing, huh? That sounds so interesting. My name is Amanda, and this is my home.” Amanda Hayes had a sunny disposition, and you couldn’t help but like her. She didn’t quite match this house. I pondered why on earth she would want to purchase a place like this. Why live here?

  Sierra smiled at me proudly and then turned back to our client. “We’re ready, Amanda. Thanks for giving us so much time here. We are going to do our best to get answers for you. Um, these two guys are with us as well. Carmen, Jericho, this is Amanda Hayes. Wayland Manor is her baby.” After a few more minutes of polite exchanges, Amanda welcomed us inside.

  The six of us piled into the foyer, a comfortable room with plush brown chairs and end tables against the two far walls, a rectangular table in the center of the space and a worn brown rug beneath our feet. Yes, this place felt kind of dated but in a comfortable way. I glanced up the staircase at the second floor. It had an open landing and what appeared to be another sitting area. I couldn’t wait to explore every inch of it.

  Sierra said, “Amanda, would you do a tour for our team? Unless you’re short on time.”

  Amanda agreed, but I could see she was nervous. “I don’t usually like talking about the hauntings while I’m inside. I always feel like I’m giving it more power. That’s probably not true. It just feels that way, right?” Her hopeful expression pleaded with us to agree with her, and she could be right. Sometimes negative activity did grow stronger if you fed it more fear, more hate, more whatever it craved.

  Like the pro she was, Sierra stepped in and took control. “I don’t want you to be anything but comfortable with our being here. We want to help, not make things worse. It’s fine. Not necessary at all.”

  Amanda lifted her chin slightly. “No, I can’t let fear keep me prisoner. I think that’s part of the problem. My problem, anyway. This house and I have had a love/hate relationship for a long time. I love it, I see the beauty in it. I want to save it, preserve it, I want it to be remembered. At the same time, it feels…fierce. At odds with me. With the living.” She smiled awkwardly. “I’m a writer. Forgive me for talking in circles. It’s how my head works. Let’s do it. I’ll give you guys the official tour and share the history of this place, and then I’m out of here. Here are the keys, Sierra. If you have any problems at all, just give me a call. Let’s start upstairs.”

  And with that, night one of the investigation began in earnest.

  NIGHT ONE

  Chapter Seven—Sierra

  “Not l
ong ago, the Mobile Historical Society held reenactment-type tours. Janie, one of our part-time helpers, was a part of the reenactment. She had an encounter with something that scared her half to death.”

  We were gathered outside the master bedroom. Amanda appeared a bit more nervous at the prospect of going inside the room.

  “Janie was supposed to wait in the hall, then she would step out and glide into the master bedroom at the docent’s cue. A spooky bit of harmless fun for the supernatural fans. Once everyone got a good scare, Janie would come out and tell the story of the Owens family, one of the previous owners, before the Waylands lived here. She was supposed to hide behind the secret wall at the back of the closet. There’s a little stool back there. We found the false wall during our renovations.”

  Joshua opened the door to the room and began checking out the closet. We streamed in behind him, but we paid close attention to Amanda’s retelling. “But Janie did things a little different that night. She confessed later that she wanted to impress one of the guests, a kid she went to college with. She made her appearance scarier, so she changed up her clothes a bit, wore a powdered wig and a veil. She looked more like a spooky bride than Mrs. Owens. Mind you, it wasn’t meant to be a haunted tour per se, but that’s how it ended.” Amanda appeared embarrassed at telling us this story.

  “You can’t blame yourself. What happened next, Amanda?”

  “I let things get out of control. I blame myself, not Janie. She is a sweet young lady, but she’ll never come back here. I found out later that the docent was adding things to the story, something about a guy named Billy Fowler who murdered his sister. No such crime happened here. Nothing like that at all. Maybe telling those rumors added to the intensity of it all, I don’t know.”

  “No chance of interviewing Janie?” Macie asked politely.

  “Um, maybe, but probably not in the house. Like I said, there’s a false wall back there. Janie was only in the closet a few minutes, but by the time they got her out, the false door wouldn’t open. She was screaming and frantic. She terrified the guests. Janie swears up and down that there was someone in there with her. A boy, and he kept screaming at her.”

  Again, Macie spoke up, “Did she give a description? What was he saying?”

  “Get out,” she said with a shiver. “That’s all he said, over and over again. Get out, get out, get out. I didn’t really ask her about a description. He was a child. Dark hair, I think. I’ll reach out to her and see if she’ll meet with you.”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  Amanda rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

  “How are you feeling, Amanda?”

  “Creeped out. I don’t know why. I never felt this way before all this happened. It’s weird. I need to get out of here.” We stopped in the hallway outside the bedroom. “People say they hear kids playing out here, small footsteps running up and down the hall. I haven’t heard anything, but lots of people have reported it. In old Mr. Wayland’s room, there are cold spots over by the windows, which seems odd. Even in the heat of summer, it’s cold by the windows. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t want to go in there. In fact, I really must get going. I have an appointment.” She turned bright red and confessed, “Okay, it’s a date.”

  Jericho spoke up and asked softly, “Quick question, if you don’t mind, Amanda. How often was the Historical Society holding these tours? And besides the changing costume, was anything else different that night?”

  Hmm… Great question, I thought.

  “Bi-monthly. Nothing else unusual that I know of. If you guys don’t mind, I really think I should go. The place is yours for the next few nights. I hope we can keep it open to the public. Besides my plans to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast, I believe that Wayland Manor has an important place in our history. It’s not as prominent as, say, Oakleigh or the Dixie House, but Wayland Manor shouldn’t be forgotten either.”

  “I agree, Amanda. It’s a lovely place. She has good bones.”

  “Yeah, but if it’s unsafe—if something is going on here—I want to know about it.” Amanda did appear at her wits’ end. This whole situation had taken a turn for the worse, and she was eager to put her own fears to rest.

  I could not imagine sinking my life savings into a place like this. Personally, I would never do that. I was too practical for such things. But some people loved old places and loved owning them. I liked investigating them, but I certainly wouldn’t want to own one.

  Never.

  “We can take it from here, Amanda. Thanks again. I’ll make sure it’s locked up tight. See you in a few days. I’ll call you when we have our final report.”

  “And do call me if you have more questions. I’ll reach out to Janie too. Who knows? She might want to tell her story.”

  I walked Amanda to the door while the crew began setting up the equipment. I’d already mapped out where I wanted things to go, but naturally, Joshua had to tweak my ideas. With what was happening at home between his parents, I didn’t give him a hard time. But Carmen was bound and determined to tick me off.

  “Carmen, we’ve got to put a camera on the renovation area. The sunroom. Where are you going with that one?”

  “We need one in Mr. Wayland’s room. To cover the cold spots near the windows.” Carmen kept walking as he talked to me. What the hell, dude? Did he fail to realize that I was the boss?

  “I’d like to stick to the plan. We have three nights. We have plenty of time to study the cold spots later. Tonight’s sheet is already cut, Carmen. That camera goes to the sunroom.”

  He quit stomping up the stairs and had the nerve to ask me, “Does Josh know?”

  As if by magic, my husband appeared and said, “Dude, this way.” Joshua probably had no idea that I was ready to rumble with the new guy—my husband was all business tonight. Like me, he didn’t like to change up plans too drastically unless we had some incredible new evidence. And we didn’t have any here.

  “On the way. Excuse me,” Carmen said dismissively as he passed me by. I wanted to trip him as he cleared the steps.

  Suddenly, Macie was there. “He’s not going to last, is he?” She grinned at me, and my anger abated.

  “He’s kind of a twerp, isn’t he?”

  “I know his type. Alpha male. He doesn’t like that you’re calling the shots.” She frowned at his back.

  I studied the two men as they disappeared down the hall. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s not that alpha. Sneaky, though. Forget about it. I’m not going to spend my time worrying about him. Let’s finish setting up. I’m itching to do some EVP work in that master bedroom.”

  “Me too. And some automatic writing. If that’s cool?”

  “Of course. If I wasn’t cool with it, I wouldn’t have asked you to come. I’m curious to see how you work, Macie.” It was on the tip of my tongue to call her Jocelyn, but I caught myself, luckily. That would have been a tacky thing to do. As of now, I needed all the friends I could get. Friends who would remind me to behave myself.

  “Let’s use this table as a command center. We can put a tablecloth down to prevent scratching the wood. Perfect. Okay, let’s get these monitors going.” It didn’t take our group long to get everything ready to run.

  “Time to go lights-out. Macie and Jericho, you two head upstairs. Kill the lights. Take the lamp and the digital recorder. Why don’t we get started with an EVP session? We’ll watch you from here. Then Carmen and I will trade places. Bring a flashlight so you don’t fall down the stairs on the way back.”

  I was sure Joshua’s suggestion was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound funny. Not at all. It sounded rather ominous. As if the house itself was listening and took his “joke” as an invitation.

  Come on, Sierra. You’re being ridiculous. Stop overthinking things. Do the work. It was like having Midas in my ear.

  The three of us watched the monitors as Macie and Jericho walked around the room and finally settled on the settee at the end of the bed. As we normally do, they ta
lked a little about the house, about the history of what had occurred in this particular room. It helped sometimes. Sometimes it didn’t do a thing. But it was a good warm-up.

  “Jericho and Macie in the master bedroom.” Jericho put the digital recorder on the settee between them. Macie surveyed the room while Jericho sat stiffly, as if he were afraid that someone would sneak up behind him at any moment and scare him.

  “Is this your room? Amanda asked us to come here. My name is Macie, and this is Jericho. We only want to talk to you. We are not here to harm you.”

  “Are you a child? Were you born here?” Jericho asked politely, obviously hoping to make a connection with the child in the closet. “What is your name? Is your last name Owens? Are you a Wayland?”

  Over the next fifteen minutes or so, they asked a patient barrage of questions, but so far, nobody said a word. Nobody except the living.

  “I don’t think anything is happening up there right now, Joshua. Let’s circle back to it. What if we have them go to the closet? Let’s ask Jericho to do some psychometry.”

  Carmen cracked his neck and knuckles. “Maybe we could head to the sunroom, Josh. Cover two times the space. That is, if the Missus doesn’t mind watching the monitors by herself.”

  “The Missus?” I spat as I fought the urge to slap his face.

  Joshua’s phone vibrated, and he picked it up. No doubt it was one of his parents, ready to rumble, ready to complain or drag Joshua into their fight. I prayed to God that was not the case, but judging by his expression, I was not wrong. Not at all.

  “Her name is Sierra, Carmen. Not the Missus. Sierra, if I can have a word.” Joshua wasn’t in the mood for Carmen’s pettiness, so I wouldn’t bring it to him.

  Carmen was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. I walked to the front door with my husband. “Is it the baby? What’s up?”

  “No, Emily is fine, but my dad is hammered.”