The Coldwater Haunting

by Michael Richan

  “Still is. But he said looking at a book wasn’t the same thing as being here, subject to attack. I say we let him see what he can do with it. If nothing, it’s no skin off our backs.”

  “Were you going to run this past me?”

  “I was hoping I could show up in the morning with something useful. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  Do I mind? Ron wondered. I feel like I should, but that makes no sense. It’s stupid to feel possessive about it; the book isn’t mine, it belongs to Mrs. Hughes. Correction – it belonged to the Coldwaters; it was stolen by Mrs. Hughes’ father.

  “Nah, I don’t mind, I guess. Aside from the pictures, it wasn’t of much use to us. As long as we can return it to Mrs. Hughes intact.”

  “I’m being careful.”

  “I guess we’ll see if Terrell comes up with anything. Not holding my breath.”

  “I got more to send. See you in the morning.”

  “’Night.”

  Ron hung up, turned off the lights and ascended the stairs, readying for bed. Soon he was slipping under the covers, cold and naked, waiting for the comforter to warm him up. He reached to the nightstand, turned off the light, and the darkness surrounded him.

  The thump from overhead came immediately, followed by the sound of feet on the stairs. He closed his eyes, intent upon ignoring it.

  You’re in terrible danger, Mr. Costa…They walk it every night, searching for you. It will get worse. You won’t be able to sleep. You won’t be able to stand it. Ezra’s words played like a lyric to the constant drumbeat of the steps, the every-other-second plod. It was a perfect anxiety-inducing drug.

  Rather than give in to the unease it was designed to elicit, he instead took a moment to marvel at it. It goes on and on, giving the impression that someone is coming up the stairs, and will soon make their way to my bedroom door. But there are far more plods than stairs; it’s like a loop, a discomforting sound loop calculated to scare. It never makes it off the stairs, it just keeps climbing, making it seem like it’s coming, always coming, always after me.

  Ingenious.

  And it’s effective on other levels, too. It creates a sense of invasion. A house, dark at night, its residents asleep – it’s supposed to be quiet and private. This sound makes me feel like someone has broken in, there’s a trespasser in the house, prowling around in the dark. It’s only a matter of time before he makes his way to my bedroom – probably while I’m asleep – and attacks while I’m defenseless, leaving a bloody corpse to be found by others.

  Or stands by the side of the bed and just stares…waits, and watches, giving me the creeps all night long.

  Couldn’t be more effective.

  He chuckled to himself, appreciating how real the scares would be, had he not dissected their purpose and exposed their agenda. He rolled over, finding a fresh cold spot, the sounds becoming just background, a white-noise machine like waves or wind. He would use them to lull himself to sleep.

  The real question, he thought, is who is behind all this? Is it Tom, with his drugged beer? Or is it Ezra, just down the hall in the bedroom on the other side of the house? They’re obviously working together. Or is there something else at work, something that Ezra is just a part of?

  He drifted off, the unending sound of someone climbing the stairs echoing through the house like a heartbeat.

  - - -

  “It’s going to be at least two more weeks after the 17th,” Elenore said over the phone.

  “Why?” Ron asked, pouring coffee.

  “I can’t control the speed of this, Ron. Deals have their own fits and starts.”

  “Well, I’m disappointed.” A week ago Ron would have meant it, but this morning he wasn’t sure the additional time was a bad thing. It would give him more opportunity to resolve the issues at the house.

  “What I’m worried about is Robbie,” she replied, sounding hurried. “I don’t know if my mom can keep him that long. I need you to call her and resolve it, either she can and he stays there, or you’ll have to move him on your own.”

  “I’ll call her today and figure out something.” No way Robbie can come here, he thought, not yet. Not going to tell her that, though.

  “Gotta run,” she said. “Dinner meeting. Please say hi to Robbie for me when you talk to him.”

  “I will.”

  She disconnected, and Ron heard the front door open. Jake walked in, bringing his usual bag of breakfast food. “I figured I don’t need to knock anymore.”

  “Yeah, last thing I need is more knocking.”

  “Noisy night?”

  “They tried. I ignored it.”

  “You don’t look very rested.”

  “I’m worried about Robbie. Was just talking to Elenore. She’s going to be delayed – which is probably a good thing, given what we’re dealing with here – but I’m not sure Robbie can stay at his grandmother’s that long. Gotta make a few calls.”

  “The last thing you need is your son in this house,” Jake replied. “At least until you clear up some stuff.”

  “I got an electrical guy coming tomorrow to do a safety inspection.”

  “Good.”

  “The idea was for Robbie and Elenore to move here together, once she gets back. If I have to move Robbie before that, I’ll need a new plan. Maybe stay with him in your motel.”

  “How are you going to explain that to Robbie? Or Elenore?”

  Ron shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll have to give it some thought.”

  “Good news,” Jake said, changing the subject. “Terrell was up all night, looking at the pictures I sent him. He called me an hour ago; he’s all amped up, wants to talk to us.”

  “Alright,” Ron replied, digging for a McMuffin in the bag. “You want coffee?”

  “Sure,” Jake answered, dialing Terrell on his phone.

  “You know where it is.”

  Jake set his phone down on the counter and walked into the kitchen.

  “Hello?” came Terrell’s voice.

  “Terrell? It’s Ron. Jake’s here too.”

  “Hello! Boy oh boy, do I have news for you! I was up all night, reviewing those pages! What an incredible find!”

  “Find?” Ron repeated, as Jake returned to the room with his coffee.

  “Never seen anything like it!”

  “What language is it?” Jake asked.

  “Language? It’s English.”

  “English?” Jake said. “Didn’t look like English to me.”

  “Ah, well, that’s a little tricky to explain. Let me just say that I was able to read certain parts of it, and Abe, well, Abe was able to make out all of it, since he’s well versed in almost all…”

  “Wait,” Ron said, cutting him off. “We looked through that book. None of the words made sense. You say it’s English, and you can read it? I have a hard time believing that.”

  “It’s called experiential writing,” Terrell explained. “It’s in English, but you have to have the context of what it’s about in order to understand it. Have you ever read a technical sentence, something filled with references and assumptions and realized you don’t understand any of it? It’s like that. People with the gift, those of us who have had some experience with the subject it’s addressing, can make it out. It’s common in our line of work.”

  “Line of work,” Ron muttered to Jake, rolling his eyes.

  Jake raised a hand to his friend, signaling to temper the sarcasm. “What does it say, Terrell?”

  “Well, Abe is still going through it. I spent the night reading what I could, but more than half was undecipherable to me, so I brought it to Abe this morning. He’s churning through it now. He’s very excited, won’t let me interrupt him while he’s reviewing things.”

  “So, you can’t tell us anything? Or can you?”

  “I can tell you about the parts I was able to decipher. They were a list of instructions, directives really, establishing a long-term haunting. I think I was able to read those parts because that
’s something I’m familiar with, hauntings, due to my tour business.”

  Ron couldn’t help rolling his eyes again.

  “Establishing a long-term haunting?” Jake repeated, thinking it best to keep Ron out of the conversation. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Well,” Terrell continued, “hauntings usually start up because of an event, something that happened in the past that was particularly singular and traumatic, or something with strong emotional resonance that causes someone who’s died to become confused. Instead of moving on, which most do, confused spirits get stuck, replaying events over and over. They become so accustomed to the events that they forget about moving on, and remain in a kind of loop, attached to the place where the events happened. That’s a haunting. A typical haunting, the most common.”

  “Alright,” Jake replied.

  “This, however, isn’t a normal haunting. There was no naturally occurring traumatic event. Everything is manipulated. It’s been staged. Spirits didn’t arise and become confused. They were sent in, like soldiers, under orders to haunt. It’s very unusual.”

  Ron watched as Jake looked up from the phone, intrigue forcing a huge smile on his friend.

  “Go on,” Jake prompted.

  “So, I spent the night trying to decipher the instructions. They’re like orders or commands, establishing the haunting. It’s very arcane. I don’t understand exactly how they can work, it’s not anything I’ve ever seen work before. I knew Abe is old and gets up way early, so around 5 I took them to his place, and he’s busy looking at them now. He seemed very impressed; I think this’ll land me a mentorship for sure, so I owe you guys.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Ron said, “but that’s not much to go on. Did you read anything about how to reverse it?”

  “Reverse it?” Terrell said, as though the idea seemed abhorrent. “Why would you…oh. That’s right, you want to get rid of it, in your house. Right. Well, no, off the top of my head, I can’t think of how you’d do that, compared to a normal haunting. Something else is driving their behavior, so just correcting some wrong or disrupting their loop probably isn’t going to work.”

  “Maybe Abe has some ideas?” Ron offered.

  “He probably will. He won’t let me use my phone in his house, he’s real paranoid. I’m about a block down the street from his home. I’ll go back there and wait while he works, and let you know once he’s finished.”

  “I’m surprised he’s willing to help,” Ron said. “I thought he put the kibosh on the whole thing, said it was too dangerous for you to be involved.”

  “This is just a book,” Terrell said. “It’s physically being at your property that he won’t allow. Let me tell you, though, that book was a real find. Have you discovered any of the nazars? The transitions?”

  “If by nazar you mean the little thing with the hairs,” Ron said, “yeah, I found one.”

  “Did you use it?”

  “I’d say it was the other way around,” Ron replied. “It used me.”

  “Fascinating. Where did you find it?”

  “In a dresser.”

  “You know, there might be more. Check outside. When happened when you used it?”

  Ron turned to Jake. “How much did you tell him?”

  “I told him everything we learned at the old lady’s trailer.”

  “Nothing about Ezra?”

  “You’ve never really explained that to me,” Jake replied.

  Ron turned back to the phone. “Once it dissolved into my palm, I met this guy who claimed to be a neighbor. His name is Tom. He showed up one night with beers, and I had one, but I think they were drugged. His whole thing was introducing me to Ezra, who, by the way, lives in the room you slept in while you were here. He tried scaring me into leaving, which, of course, I’m not going to do.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Do you know anything about these nazars? Is it still in me?”

  “It might be. Their effect probably fades over time. Could be out of your system by now. I think it’s really interesting how these are behaving. It’s not normal.”

  “Behaving?” Ron asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Normally a nazar is designed to ward off evil in some way. The one you used actually allowed you to interact with them, with ghosts in the house. I’ve never seen them work that way. A lot of this is very unusual. The instructions in the book are highly uncommon, a very weird way to go about things. The vibe of the book is very mean-spirited, too. Not good. So, I’d tread lightly until Abe can weigh in. I should probably head back. I’ll call you when I know more, alright?”

  “Thanks, Terrell,” Jake replied.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Ron added, and the call ended.

  “You could be nicer,” Jake said. “He’s doing us a favor.”

  “It’ll be a favor if it winds up being anything useful,” Ron replied. “What Mrs. Hughes told us was a favor. The jury’s still out on Terrell.”

  “Well, OK, but while he’s working on it and there’s hope of something helpful coming from that, don’t snuff him out by being rude.”

  “Have you paid him anything?”

  “See, that’s what I mean. The cynicism.”

  “Have you?”

  “Just the money for the bus. And that seems fair, by the way, since he took the time to come all the way down here.”

  “And his food while he was here.”

  “Nitpicking.”

  “Jury’s out.”

  “Fine. In the meantime?”

  “I want to find Coldwater mansion. It’s here, on the mountain, somewhere. I should have asked Mrs. Hughes for its location yesterday. Thought I might swing by her place and see if she’ll give me the address.”

  “And then what?”

  “Check it out.”

  “Go poking around someone else’s property? Didn’t you say your neighbors like to call the cops?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the post office guy told me.”

  “How about we see what Terrell comes up with first?”

  “I don’t know; might be a fool’s errand. The kid seems barely able to scratch his own ass. I’d rather…” He paused.

  “Rather what?”

  Ron knew he was still in the dark. He really had no clue what to do next, how to solve things. He was at the mercy of others, either more information from Mrs. Hughes, or whatever options Terrell and Abe might be able to provide.

  “I need to call Robbie,” Ron said, walking into the other room. “Gotta make arrangements.”

  “I’ll be here with the coffee,” Jake replied, reaching into the bag for another McMuffin.

  - - -

  After a morning of work on the exterior of the house, prepping for painting, Ron decided he wanted to make the trip back to Mrs. Hughes’ trailer to see if she’d provide the location of Coldwater mansion. They parked in her driveway, and the dogs tied up in front of her home barked furiously, foaming at the mouth and straining on their chains until she told them to be quiet. As the last syllable of the command left her mouth, the animals went slack and wandered away, completely uninterested. She welcomed them in, and Jake’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket.

  “Fuck, it’s Terrell,” he said as they sat around Mrs. Hughes’ kitchen table. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think I should take this.”

  Ron expected a sour reaction from Mrs. Hughes, but she just waved her hand. “Go ahead. I‘ve got all day.” He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

  As Jake took the call, rising from the table and turning away in an ineffective attempt to speak privately with Terrell, Ron turned to Mrs. Hughes. “He showed the pages of the book you lent us to a friend of his who thinks he can read it.”

  Mrs. Hughes looked shocked. “You’re kidding!”

  “I don’t know if he really can or not,” Ron replied. “But this friend of his has been showing them to someone else, someone who might be a little more scholarly on the subject. He was going to get back
to us with their findings.”

  Jake turned around. “I think you should hear this.”

  “Do you mind?” Ron asked Mrs. Hughes. “We can put it on speakerphone. You might as well hear this too, if you’re interested. It’s your book, after all.”

  “Go ahead,” she replied, straightening her dress again as though someone new was about to visit.

  Jake sat at the table and placed the phone in the middle. “OK, Terrell, I’ve got Ron here, and Mrs. Hughes, she’s the woman who gave us the book. Go ahead.”

  “Mrs. Hughes?” Terrell asked.

  “Yes?” she answered.

  “Can you tell me, where did you get this book?”

  “It was my father’s. Well, that’s not true. He had it, but I understand he stole it from a mansion nearby.”

  “So, it came from a particular house?”

  “Yes, it’s called the Coldwater mansion. It’s on the mountain where I live, where your friend Ron’s house is located.”

  “I see. Are you familiar with the book’s contents?”

  “Other than the pictures, it made no sense to me.”

  “Alright, just like Ron and Jake. That’s fine, that’s to be expected. Well, I spoke with Abe. He spent all day with the pages you sent me. He’s completely freaking out over it, he called it a huge discovery. Make sure you protect that book, put it somewhere safe. It’s extremely valuable.”

  Mrs. Hughes looked up at them.

  “Did you bring it with you from the motel?” Ron asked Jake.

  “Yeah, it’s in my truck.”

  “Go on, Terrell,” Ron said. “Did Abe discover anything?”

  “He did.”

  “And?”

  “He, well…”

  “Spit it out, Terrell.”

  “He wants you to come up here, to meet with him.”

  “Fuck,” Ron muttered.

  “Can’t you just tell us what he said?” Jake asked. “It’s a long ways up to Port Angeles.”

  “I know, but for some reason – that he wouldn’t explain to me – he wants to talk to you directly, Ron. I think he has questions for you. And, if I’m being honest, I think he didn’t exactly trust me to relay everything correctly. He’s only known me for a few days, I’m not sure at what point he’ll start trusting me more.”