Everything changed and I returned to my own time to my husband and friend. I landed on the ground on my backside. Ashland and Rachel were standing over me. All I could do was lay on the grass and shudder under the man’s power.
“Carrie Jo? CJ! Can you see us? What happened to you?” Ashland knelt beside me. He held my hand and patted it repeatedly until I managed to answer him. He relentlessly questioned me until I could sit up. I put my arms around his neck and held him tight. I was glad to be back. Glad to be with him. I don’t know why but I cried.
A strange feeling of helplessness crept over me. I hadn’t broken through to the Watcher. I hadn’t convinced him to help us. The only thing he’d done was acknowledged that there were indeed other spirits here. Spirits that were not friendly and the Watcher was on assignment against them. But not only them. Heather too!
Now I knew the truth. I’d seen the Watcher face to face. Fierce and determined, the Watcher would do what was necessary to protect his people. Even if that meant declaring war on Marietta.
I continued to cry. Ashland picked me up and carried me inside. Rachel walked silently behind us. I knew one thing for certain, if we were going to resolve this situation, this wasn’t going to be easy.
And the cost would be high.
Chapter Eight—Rachel
“How about a glass of water?” I suggested to my friends. They were both clearly shaken up. So was I. As we headed inside the negative energy didn’t let up. And the house was entirely too quiet. Why did I get the sensation that someone would be listening to our conversation? I went to the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of water. Carrie Jo had gotten started without me. She was telling Ashland about the man she encountered during her dream walk. Apparently not Adam the pioneer but a Native American man who identified himself as a Watcher.
“You met a Watcher? I knew they existed, but I’ve never read of anyone interacting with one.” I cracked open the bottle of water and took a big sip before flipping through a book. I listened as Carrie Jo recounted of what occurred during her dream walk. “What did he look like, CJ?” After skimming through the table of contents I traded the book for another. This wasn’t what I was looking for. I’d read a passage before about the Watchers in the Native American community. I remembered that they had to be either a chief or a shaman. The candidates for the task of Watcher had to be brave, had to be strong and faithful to the tribe.
I brought three books for this investigation, each contained information about local Native American burial practices. Sadly enough, there wasn’t a lot of details about the Biloxi tribe, which I assumed would be at this location. The secrets of the Biloxi remained lost, but they would probably be very much like their kin the Tunica. But specifically, the Biloxi’s oral history had been lost to history.
“What did he look like?” Ashland asked as he leaned back on the couch. Carrie was still shaking.
“Long shaggy dark hair. Old, like a hundred years old. But not crippled up like an old person might be. He was very strong, guys. Strong with his energy. He didn’t try to hurt me, but he forced me back. Um, let’s see. He had dark eyes, painted markings on his chest. He had a staff, with feathers on it. The Watcher tapped the ground once and closed the dream door which forced me out. He didn’t want to talk to me. The only thing he really said was, ‘They must rest in peace, or they will rise up.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, and he said that harm had been done and that Heather’s blood testifies against her.”
For some reason, the atmosphere thickened as she recounted the experience. I even glanced down the hallway a couple of times before I continued searching my reference material for answers. Ugh. I didn’t like this. It was as if what we experienced in the boneyard followed us inside.
“This has been going on for centuries, there’s a battle between this dark spirit and the Watcher but how and why, I don’t know. Why is it coming to a head now?” Carrie Jo asked as she leaned back. I noticed that my friend’s eyes were watching the hallway too. We glanced at one another but neither of us said anything. I thumbed through the book and finally found the page I was looking for. “Hey, did he look anything like this?” I held up the book and Carrie Jo accepted it. She touched the page and nodded her head.
“Yes. The Watcher was older though. I mean, really old. The markings on his arms were similar. He wasn’t wearing a vest; he was bare chested but wore deerskin trousers. The man was covered in dirt, like he just rolled out of the grave. Is that an illustration of a shaman? Who is that?”
“Yes, but from the Tunica tribe. The Tunica were closely related to the Biloxi. According to this book, it was a great honor and responsibility to be chosen as a Watcher. Whomever the tribe selected, usually one man per generation, he had to be very devout, strong physically, mentally and spiritually and one more thing.”
Ashland leaned forward and set his empty bottle on the coffee table. “What’s that? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“He had to be willing to relinquish his soul for his tribe. At least temporarily. The Watcher had to allow his soul to be in limbo until the next protector took his place. He could only move on to his rest when his job was finished.”
Carrie Jo gasped in shock. “What happens if there is no other Watcher? If his entire tribe is dead or they moved? What happens to him? He’s never allowed to move on?”
Her very troubling question hung in the air. I had no answer for her and no idea what it would mean. But it did make me feel sorry for him. The Watcher was no elemental, no spiritual protector. He had once been a living human with a life and probably a family.
Ashland appeared as tense as I’d ever seen him. He too was now glancing toward the hallway. I had to ask, “Do you see someone, Ashland?”
“No, but I sure as heck feel a presence.”
The three of us waited but nothing manifested. I quickly scrambled through my bags and found the REM pod and EMF detector. I put the REM pod on the other side of the living room and the EMF detector on the coffee table. I was no pro at using them but practice makes perfect, as they say.
“This man, after he died, they would have allowed his bones to be picked clean by nature and then he would be interred. In some areas, they would place the bones of the dead in a cave but there are no caves around here. Not that I am aware of at any rate. What about you? Any hints of about a cave or cave system?”
Carrie Jo handed the book back as she shook her curls. “I don’t know, Rachel. I’ve not heard of a cave system. And I don’t suggest we go looking for him. Messing with his resting place is really going to tick the Watcher off. He was warning me about that. They already want vengeance for a wrong that we don’t understand. Let’s hold off on looking for his resting place until we get a handle on what the Lancasters were doing here. I get the feeling that the Native Americans didn’t appreciate them feeding the Beast, as Marietta called it. They were offended by it. Enough to feel as if they need to protect this space a hundred and fifty years after the last Lancaster left.”
I bit my lip wondering if now would be the time to tell them the rest. I had a hunch, a theory about the reason for the continued haunting. I didn’t think this was just about the bones and the hurricane. This was about Heather. Yeah, I needed to fess up. I had to if I were going to keep everyone safe.
Genealogy didn’t lie only but didn’t have her permission to investigate her lineage. Carrie Jo wouldn’t be happy about my delving into a client’s background without the proper permission. Better to get forgiveness than permission. Some would say I had a lack of integrity but that’s just not true. I had integrity but I also had a strong drive to find the truth, no matter what it cost. And this personality trait of mine had cost me a lot.
“Um, guys. I need to tell you something. I did a bit of research. Heather is a true-blue Lancaster. She’s a direct descendant of Ezra Lancaster, who was a grandson of Xavier and Marietta Lancaster only thing is, Heather was adopted. She doesn’t know she’s a Lancaster.” I felt my phone vibrating in my po
cket, but I chose to ignore it. Time to face the music. I hoped they wouldn’t be too upset about my prying into the client’s background. “The only reason I did it was because of what Heather said. She had a strange pull to this place, remember? She couldn’t understand why but it was as if she were compelled to come back here, to buy it. Make it her own.”
“She’s really a Lancaster?” Carrie Jo asked, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
I nodded my head. “Yes, she is a Lancaster. A hundred percent. Only, I don’t think she knows it. Did you?”
Ashland answered my question. “No, I don’t think so. But what about the pioneer family? Did they have anything to do with the war going on here? If they were just passing through, why are they still hanging around? That’s concerning to me.” Ashland asked his wife. “Did they die on this property and if so, how?”
As if in response to his question, the REM pod across the room sounded off followed by the grandfather clock in the front room. It was six o’clock already and we’d barely gotten started with our investigation. Had we lost time in the boneyard? There was no other explanation for it. That was quite curious. I made a mental note of that. This would not be the first time I’d experienced a time slip in a case.
Case. That was a good word for it.
Carrie Jo’s green eyes widened slightly. According to everyone’s body language we all experienced the shift in the atmosphere, a strange silence fell over Marietta. The air conditioning ceased to blow which created even more of a vacuum of silence. The soft tapping of shoes walked across the floor above us.
Only there was no floor above us.
Could those footsteps have come from another part of the house? Maybe the roof? Without saying a word, the three of us went to the front door to verify that no one had come inside after us.
We found nothing at all.
Still the strange stillness hung in the air until the air conditioner kicked back on. I reached for Carrie Jo’s hand.
“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s all grab a bite to eat. I think we need some normalcy for a bit, don’t y’all?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” CJ answered as she hugged me. “You’re right. I’m starving. I can’t get over the fact that Heather is a Lancaster. How do we present her with this information? Rach, you know how I feel about this sort of thing. I don’t think it’s our place to tell her. Not unless she asks. Agreed?”
I did not agree with her but as she was the boss, I was not going to argue about it. Seriously, I respected Carrie Jo all the way. After changing clothes and washing up, the three of us met in the kitchen and devoured sandwiches and sodas. Not the best meal choice but as we were working on a case, we didn’t have time to cook a healthier one.
I noticed that Carrie Jo’s eyes had dark circles beneath them. As if she hadn’t slept in a month of Sundays. I didn’t want to say anything, but that concerned me. CJ had a baby to think about--not just this haunted house and land. I glanced at Ashland but he didn’t appear to notice anything odd. He had mayo on the side of his mouth. I handed him a napkin as a courtesy. He took the hint and wiped the condiment away. Was the Marietta case weighing on CJ? My poor friend had been through enough these past few years.
“Carrie Jo, are you feeling okay?” I asked politely. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but her appearance was truly concerning. I’d been around her all day and she didn’t look like this earlier.
Not before that dream walk. My question appeared to fuel Ashland’s curiosity too.
“Hey, stop staring at me. I’m okay, y’all. I will admit I am tired but that’s it. If I remember correctly, I was tired the first trimester with AJ too. At least I don’t have morning sickness this time. Not often anyway.” She sighed as she dusted breadcrumbs off her hands. “Would you guys mind if I took a nap? Normally I’d amp up on coffee but that’s not good for the baby. If I don’t take at least a quick nap, I don’t think I’ll make it through tonight’s investigation. I assume we’re going back out to the boneyard. That seems like the logical thing to do.”
Ashland rubbed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, of course. Get some rest, babe. But try not to dream, okay?”
“How do I prevent that?” She laughed playfully. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll set my alarm for an hour. I won’t sleep longer than that, okay Ash?”
“Okay, honey. Better yet, I’ll stay with you and wake you in an hour.” He snapped his fingers. “Rachel, would you mind if I stayed with Carrie Jo? After the boneyard I could use a nap myself. You won’t feel like I’m abandoning you, will you?”
“Heck no. I’ll go ahead and check the batteries in the infrared cameras and then set them up. I’m not tired. Go ahead, guys. I’ll be perfectly fine.” Ashland left the room with Carrie Jo in tow. They were walking hand in hand. I was happy to see them acting like teenagers.
One day I’d be a part of a dynamic duo too. It was going to happen. I just needed to have a little faith. And a whole lot of luck.
I had plenty of that, but I was also a woman of science. Speaking of which, I needed to call Nate. I promised to give him an update on my Marietta findings. Not on the Stuarts but on this house and land. I hadn’t mentioned it to Carrie Jo and Ashland yet but there were quite a few houses along this section of Beach Boulevard that reported hauntings. It might have something to do with the spiritual war happening here, it might not. Who knows?
That was one reason why I was here.
That and I wanted to work with my friends. Sometimes it was hard balancing the two. But I could handle it.
I had a never-ending thirst for learning. As my Gran liked to remind me, I was a lifetime student. Unlike my college roomies, I liked going to class. I liked taking notes, proving theories right. Or at times wrong. I liked challenging the status quo in all things.
I set up two cameras in the boneyard, along with a few sensors and then sat in the shade while finishing my now tepid water. Fishing my phone out of my pocket I tapped on Nate’s contact number.
“Hey there, Rachel. How is it going at Marietta?”
“It’s complicated, that much I can say. I am still looking for the grim. Even though the record shows there is one on the property, it’s not at all easy to find. There are no statues. No gravestones. Nothing at all to lead me in the right direction.”
“Have you tried dowsing rods?” Nate asked with a touch of simple naivety. That was Nate’s gift. He had a way of suggesting the most simplistic ideas. Often, they were the right ideas. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You know, I don’t think I packed a pair of dowsing rods. I’ve got a night vision camera, some SLS cameras and laser panels but no dowsing rods.”
He laughed at my answer. “Ah, you are such an over thinker. Trust your instincts, Rachel. You are as much a sensitive as your friends. Just in a different way. Trust that sense of smell. Remember what I always tell you. Your body is the best detection device. Body chills, unusual odors, hairs responding to electricity. Walk by yourself. Without depending on others. I promise you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“Okay. I’ll give it a shot. But you know me, I trust technology more than I trust myself.”
He chuckled again and I couldn’t help but smile. I liked Nate. Not in a girlfriend/boyfriend kind of way. He was more like an older brother but a good one. One you liked to keep a round. I’d never had any siblings, so it was a welcome relationship.
“How is the dreamcatcher and her psychic husband?”
“Great. Both of them. Carrie Jo is taking a nap now. She looks tired and I’m worried about her. Hey, did you hear anything yet? You know, about the Gaar House?”
Nate didn’t laugh this time. Instead, a long moment of silence passed between us. I didn’t like this response. Where was his excitement? “Rachel, I don’t think that the Gaar House would be a good case for you. In fact, I’m taking it off the board. It’s too risky for most people. The Brotherhood is going to pass on this one so that should tell you som
ething.”
“What? What do you mean going to pass? This is what we do. It’s the Gaar House. I worked hard to get us in that place. We can’t quit now—this is my reputation on the line. They’ve asked us for help, Nate. It’s got it all. Poltergeist activity, full apparitions, sounds, smells. And you know I need this investigation to make my final report. I need this for my certification. I thought I had your backing.”
“You do have my backing, Rachel but I don’t have the final say in this. The Brotherhood made this decision, not me. They want to protect you, not suppress you. Listen, focus on your current case. I have it on good authority that the Brotherhood will be happy to accept Marietta as the subject of your report.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
I needed something sensational for my final report. I’d been working so hard these past years with the Brotherhood. I’d done everything they asked of me, and I was this close to receiving my final certification—to become one of them. After that, I would travel all over the world conducting research on their behalf. It was a dream job, the offer of a lifetime. Now, Nate wanted to pull the plug on my dreams.
I could think of nothing to say. No way was Marietta a big enough case to be considered worthy of a final report. What was going on here? “Marietta? How does Marietta compare to the Gaar House? In what way, shape or form?” I sneered at his suggestions. I didn’t mean to sound snotty, but this wasn’t what I planned.
“I’m not talking about investigating Marietta alone. To make this report really stand out, you should observe and report on your fellow investigators, Rachel. It’s not spying. It is reporting.”
I sprang to my feet. My face flushed red; my heart was broken. “I told you I wasn’t going to do that. I told you all along. Why are you doing this, Nate? These are my friends and they trust me. All this time…is this what you wanted all this time? All my studies, all my reports. They meant nothing?”
“No, Rachel. That’s not true. Let’s talk about when you get back. Clearly you are missing the point. It’s not how you make it seem, Rachel. I’m not asking you to spy on your friends. That’s not true at all.”
Footsteps of Angels (Marietta Book 2) Page 7
