Of all the people who could have possibly signed up for this séance, Carter Lansford had to be one of them. It seemed like I ran into him at every paranormal event I went to. Carter sat on a loveseat, one hand resting casually on the thigh of the pretty raven-haired woman perched next to him. Carter's black suit looked as perfect as his carefully styled blonde hair.
There were two other people in the room, both listening to Carter with rapt attention. His Southern drawl cut off abruptly when he spotted us in the doorway. "I see the rest of the party is here," he said, looking straight past me. "Lou, Daisy, Shaun." Carter nodded, like royalty greeting his subjects.
"And hello to you, too," I said loudly.
Carter simply ignored me and picked up the story he'd been telling before we walked in. I decided I was perfectly okay with Carter ignoring me because it sure beat all of the attention he had been giving me recently. He had asked me out to dinner a while back, and I had declined. Carter was so used to getting his way that he pressed the matter for a solid month. When my answer continued to be a firm "no," he'd finally moved on. The woman next to him seemed more like his style, anyway: sophisticated, probably rich, and still unaware that Carter was the most arrogant man on the planet.
I sat as far away from Carter as I could, sitting on a straight-backed chair with red upholstery. Antique furnishings looked nice, but they weren't very comfortable. I busied myself with observing the two people who were listening to Carter. The man had a skeptical look on his face. My kind of guy. He and the woman clutching his hand looked like they might be in their forties, and their body language suggested that they were way out of their comfort zone.
Suddenly everyone sat up straight and turned to stare at me. No, I realized, not at me, behind me. I craned my neck around and saw a formidable woman looming over the back of my chair. She had on a flowing black dress and black lace gloves, and she was wearing necklaces laden with so many occult pendants that I wondered how she could stand up straight with so much weight around her neck. She looked more like she was wearing a costume than an actual outfit, and I might have laughed had it not been for the stern look on her face. She was peering intently at all of us, frowning. "The spirits in this house are ready for us," she announced. "It is time to meet them. Come."
As we followed the woman out of the room and down the hallway, Carter filed into line behind me. He leaned forward and said, "That's my friend Blair Newton. She's a really well-known psychic."
"I've never heard of her," I whispered back.
"That's because you're still new to the paranormal community. Once you have more experience, you'll realize there are a great many respected psychics with whom it's a privilege to work."
Well, so much for Carter not speaking to me. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Maybe I could ignore him better than he could ignore me.
Blair Newton led us into a back room that had dark curtains over the windows, and the only light came from a dim lamp in one corner. In the center of the room, a large round table had nine chairs squeezed around it. Blair gestured for us all to take a seat, and I walked around the table to sit next to the skeptical-looking man. "Hi," I said. "Your first séance, too, huh?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"
I gestured toward him and his companion. "You both look like I feel."
My comment was met with a hearty laugh, and the man put out his hand. "Charles Simmons. That's my wife Anita. This place is my office, and given the building's history, we're a little uncertain what to expect tonight."
"Yes," broke in Blair's voice, which resonated through the room. She had a commanding presence, and whether or not I believed in her psychic abilities, I knew it was going to be an entertaining evening. "Let us discuss the history of this building, and why this night is significant. General Wilson Taylor built this home in 1813. A hero of the American Revolution and an upstanding man in Savannah society, he died during the yellow fever outbreak of 1820. The home then changed hands several times, and by the end of the Civil War, it had been turned into a house of ill repute. They say the girls who worked here were treated badly, but it was nothing compared to what happened on December 31st, 1871. During their New Year's soiree, one of the girls accidentally tipped over a candle and set the curtains ablaze. Soon the front parlor and hallway were on fire, blocking the staircase. Upstairs, guests and prostitutes alike began to panic as they realized their escape had been cut off. They all headed for the windows, sliding down rainspouts or jumping into the branches of the oak tree outside. Several girls fell, and two of them died from their injuries. But the worst fate was that of Eliza, the girl who had started the fire. The Madame of the house, Lottie Jones, pushed her back inside and barred the back door. They say you can still hear Eliza screaming as she is burned alive again and again in the spirit world."
Blair paused dramatically and gazed at us, soaking up our wide-eyed stares. I wasn't horrified at the idea of a ghost, but at the idea that a human being could do something so awful to another human being. Part of me wished that the spirit of Lottie Jones was still around so I could give her what for.
"The fire was put out, but they could not put Eliza's spirit to rest. Our séance tonight will seek to connect with Eliza, so that we may set her free, giving her the eternal rest she so richly deserves."
I turned my head toward Daisy, one eyebrow raised. I had thought séances were more about letting people get in touch with their deceased loved ones, not trying to cross over trapped spirits. This sounded like a paranormal investigation, only with theatrics thrown in for good measure. Daisy just grinned back at me and gave a small shrug, as if to say, "Why not?"
Blair waved a hand toward Charles. "Charles, please tell the others what you have experienced here."
Charles hesitated, and I knew it was because he was still unconvinced about the séance. He cleared his throat, then began with, "A number of our employees have heard screams inside the house, although they can't figure out where they are coming from."
"They seem to come from everywhere at once," his wife broke in. "I heard it one night after the annual Christmas party, when I was cleaning up."
"And every single woman who has ever worked here has reported feeling watched," Charles continued. "One of them said she was slapped on the cheek by something she couldn't see. She quit the next day. Another woman felt someone breathing on the back of her neck. When she turned around, no one was there."
Maybe I would get my chance to lecture Lottie Jones, after all. "Sounds like Lottie is still trying to keep her girls in line," I said.
Blair looked at me sharply, clearly annoyed that I was interrupting the show. "Our purpose tonight is to put Eliza's soul to rest," she said firmly.
I nodded and vowed inwardly to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the night. Carter, I noticed, was stifling a laugh.
"Now," Blair continued, "everyone focus their attention on the brass chest sitting in the middle of the table. Imagine that it holds all of the energy a spirit needs to communicate with us. Mentally pour your own energy into the chest; feel it flowing from your body."
A quick glance to my left showed that Daisy was happily complying, her eyes narrowed with concentration. I had just resigned myself to participating in the exercise when Blair said, "Now, take the hand of the person on either side of you and close your eyes. Continue to focus, and I will use the energy you have raised to bring Eliza here."
Charles lightly covered my right hand with his left, and Daisy grabbed my left hand with an excited squeeze. I wasn't sure why we all had to close our eyes, but I submitted dutifully.
There was complete silence for a moment, then Blair began chanting an invitation to Eliza's spirit. "We seek to help you, Eliza. Come to us. We seek to help your trapped soul," Blair intoned. She continued for about a minute, and then her stern voice began to rise in pitch. "I can feel you coming close. Come, speak through me. Use my voice as yours. Yes, that's it. Yes, come into me. Yes, yes, yes!"
Blair
cried out loudly, and my eyes shot open in surprise. Her head pitched back and she shouted, "Oh, yes!"
Now everyone had their eyes open, and we watched as Blair rocked back and forth in her chair, moaning with pleasure. Her arms moved convulsively, and Carter's date was pulling away, trying to remove her hand from Blair's grip. My eyes met Carter's, and I could see that he was caught between concern and amusement. I snorted with laughter, and I extracted my hand from Daisy's so I could cover my mouth. Whatever I had expected at a séance, this wasn't it.
Blair gasped loudly and fell forward, crashing face first onto the table. Immediately, Charles and Shaun were out of their seats to assist her. Blair shook her head and waved them away, but she looked dazed.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "That was not Eliza."
When it appeared that Blair was not going to offer any more of an explanation, Charles said, "Then who was it? Just how many ghosts are haunting this building?"
Even in the dim light, I could see Blair's cheeks redden. "It was another one of the girls who haunts this place. She was showing me a memory of her favorite client. She told me he was a man who knew how to please a woman."
"Clearly," I heard Daisy mutter.
I wrinkled my nose. Watching a psychic have some sort of paranormal orgasm was not my idea of a fun night. Still, maybe it was just part of an act meant to shock everyone.
We all looked awkwardly at each other. What were we supposed to do now? None of us wanted a repeat of that first performance. I expected Blair to pick up where she had left off. If she was just giving us a show as I suspected, surely she would be launching into Act Two at any moment. Instead, she folded her hands demurely on the table and shook her head. Her voice was subdued, and all trace of her earlier charisma was gone. "My apologies. I am usually better able to control spirits that come into me. I hope I haven't offended anyone too much. I think we should bring this evening to a close. All of you will, of course, receive a full refund."
Daisy looked disappointed, and I patted her arm. "Sorry, Daze. Not quite the New Year's you were hoping for," I said.
I had already pushed back my chair and was beginning to stand when Blair's body went rigid. "Oh!" she cried out.
I sank back down into my chair, wondering if Blair was about to give us another demonstration from one of the house's professional women. Instead, Blair's second cry turned into a wail. "Trapped! Trapped!" she shouted. She turned her head wildly, her eyes rolling in their sockets. "No way out! Trapped!" With one last wail, Blair began to sob.
None of us moved. Finally, Charles's wife Anita tentatively lifted a hand to Blair's shoulder. "What happened?" she asked gently.
Blair wiped at her eyes. "There is a spirit trapped here, a girl who couldn't escape the fire."
Carter stood confidently. "Then it's our duty to help her cross over," he announced. "Is she trapped in this room?"
"No." Blair thought for a moment. "She's up above us, in a place like an attic, but very small."
"Then let's go." Carter turned and walked out of the room, his date in his wake. Even Charles stood eagerly, ready to follow Carter's lead. I shrugged and followed the rest of them. I didn't think much of Carter's skills as a paranormal investigator, but at least I didn't suspect Carter of being a fraud. He was a snob, but he was an honest one. I still hadn't made up my mind about Blair's integrity.
We filed up the stairs to the second-floor landing, and Charles pointed toward the back of the house. "There's a staircase to the attic inside that door," he said.
The staircase was practically a ladder, with a steep angle and narrow steps. I was glad to be at the back of the group; otherwise, anyone behind me would have gotten a view right up my dress.
By the time I emerged into the attic, someone had opened the blinds, and the glow from the streetlights outside lit the room in pale gold. Our footsteps were stirring up a thick layer of dust, the little motes making the air seem murky, like we were underwater.
Carter pulled a flashlight out of his jacket pocket and shone it around the attic. "It's not that small," he said, looking at Blair.
"There's another room up here." The voice that spoke was Daisy's, and I figured she was having one of her flashes of intuition until she added, "Look." Carter pointed his flashlight where Daisy indicated, and we could see that one of the brick walls had a rectangular section that stuck out three feet from the rest of the wall.
"That's just a chimney," Carter said.
"No," Daisy countered. "There's a door." She stepped toward the outcropping and stumbled, nearly falling before she regained her balance.
"Are you okay?" Shaun asked, rushing to take her arm.
Daisy nodded. "Guess I shouldn't wear high heels in an attic." There was doubt in her voice, though.
This time, Carter led the way toward the spot, shining his flashlight carefully at the bricks. "I don't see a door," he said.
"But there are hinges. Look, near where the outcropping meets the wall." Daisy was pointing, but she didn't take more than two steps closer to the spot.
"You're right," Carter said. "It looks like the door itself is made of bricks. No, wait." Carter knocked against a brick carefully. "It's wood, but it's been made to look like brick and mortar."
"A hidden door," Charles said. "We don't use the attic, so we've never noticed."
"Judging by the rust on these hinges, no one has noticed for a very long time." As Carter ran his fingers around the line of the door, there was a loud scraping noise. Carter let out a yelp and jumped back just as a brick shot out of the wall and whipped past his face. Carter's date and Anita both screamed as the brick clattered to the floor.
"Somebody doesn't want us going in there," Lou said, his voice perfectly calm. "Carter, I know you brought a camera with you. Get it out and start taking pictures."
Carter complied, but only after he had moved away from the door.
Everyone was chattering excitedly about the flying brick, and I took it as my chance to quietly ask Daisy if she really had just tripped.
"Something grabbed my ankle," she admitted. "It felt like a hand."
"I think Lottie Jones is still hanging around this place, and she doesn't want us to see whatever is behind the door."
As if in answer, my right leg suddenly got very cold, which can indicate the presence of a ghost. I opened my mouth to tell Carter to take a picture, but he spoke first. "Is there a spirit trapped behind this door?" he asked loudly. "If so, please give us a sign. Can you knock on the door?"
We all stood silent, and I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation. The cold air began to rise higher, reaching my waist.
"All of us are here to help you," Carter added. "We want to get you out of there so you can move on."
This time, after a space of ten seconds, we all heard a quiet knock. The cold spot against my body disappeared instantly, or so I thought.
"My feet are freezing!" Carter's date announced. "The air is like ice."
"I felt it, too," I said. "The cold spot was over here just a second ago."
Carter was instructing his companion to stay still when she suddenly screamed and sailed backwards, her arms flailing. She hit the floor hard, her head narrowly missing an old stained glass lampshade that had been left there by a previous owner. "It hit me! It hit me in the stomach!" She sat up and drew her knees to her chest, her designer dress now covered in dust.
"Carter, get her out of here," Shaun said firmly. "We've got this."
Carter actually hesitated, as if he would rather stay and deal with the ghost than help his date. Reluctantly, he pulled her to her feet and escorted her out of the room. Anita followed under the pretense of assisting, and I didn't blame her for wanting to get away. A violent haunting was no fun, and it was ridiculous to stick around and take the chance of getting hurt. The rest of us should have left, too, but I hated to leave Charles with such an angry ghost on his hands.
"Blair," Charles spoke up. "Can you help with this?"
The p
sychic shook her head and backed away, her hands raised in front of her. "She's a powerful entity, and a violent one. I'm not strong enough to channel her. I'm afraid I'd lose control, especially after what happened earlier."
That left me, Shaun, Daisy and Lou to take care of things. I wished I had thought to bring my investigation equipment with me, but we would have to make do without it. "Carter got whatever is inside that door to knock," I said. "Maybe we should try that again."
"Or just open the door," Lou suggested.
"I'm not sure which is the safer option."
"Do both at the same time," Shaun said. "Lottie Jones, or whoever this ghost is, can't attack in two places at once. I'll take the door."
"And I'll ask the questions." I slipped off my high heels and stood there in the dust, taking a wide stance so that I could hopefully keep my balance if anything unseen took a swing at me.
"Were you in that room when the fire started? Give us one knock to say yes and two knocks to say no," I began. As I spoke, Shaun found a latch and began to pull the door open. The hinges protested, squeaking loudly. He stopped pulling when I stopped speaking, so we would not miss any knocking noises.
One knock rang out so close to Shaun's head that he jumped. "Thought it was Lottie there for a second," he said sheepishly.
"I'm surprised that she didn't try to stop either of you," Daisy said.
Lou had turned around and was looking at one corner of the attic. "She's about to," he said, pointing. I expected to see some shadowy form in the corner, but what we all saw instead was Blair, whose vacant eyes clashed with the look of rage on her face. "Idiots!" she said. "All of you! That girl deserved what she got, and so did Eliza!"
Blair lunged toward me, and before I could react she gripped my face with both of her hands. Her fingers curled, and I could feel her nails digging into my skin. Blair's face was just inches from mine, her eyes still unfocused. "Don't judge me! They are the ones who must be punished!"
The Stroke of Midnight: A Supernatural New Year's Anthology Page 11
