"Hey!" Billy said at something in the commotion. And before any of them knew it, Janet was standing in front of the fireplace, holding both pieces of the map.
"No!" Trevor shouted.
She threw them into the flames and they were quickly eaten up and disintegrated.
"You bitch!" Trevor screamed. "What have you done!" He ran over to Janet and began shaking her by the shoulders.
"Hey, get off of her!" Karen said, bounding at him and pulling on his arm.
Trevor threw his elbow back to bat her away, and he knocked her against the temple, making her fall to the floor.
"Hey! Don't touch my sister!" Billy said. He shoved Trevor into the mantle, and the flames licked at him. He rebounded and grabbed Billy by the shoulder to guide his aim, then he threw a punch that cracked him across the cheek and send him skittering across the floor.
Dawson ran into the room, suddenly roused by the commotion and grappled with Trevor, getting him into a chokehold from behind. Trevor struggled, digging his feet into the floor and shoving the two of them backward.
Bridgette watched the horrific scene in the firelight. Her gaze fell on Janet, who was standing just at the fringe of the orange glow. The blank look was on her face again, and then suddenly her shoulders rolled up and then slumped down, her knees sagging. Something black appeared behind her, like a shadow against the wall. It had a human shape, but it moved independently from Janet. The dark form fled from the room, and Bridgette suddenly knew it was what had been possessing Janet. Without wasting another minute, she took off after the shadow and followed it deep into the mansion.
The Shadow Revealed
Bridgette followed the shadow into the living room. It passed by pockets of moonlight as it fled. Its outline was highlighted, enough to give Bridgette a sense of pale skin and an old dress. The shape hurried up the staircase, and Bridgette followed. Down a hallway they went, turning a bend, and then Bridgette saw the shadow slip into a room ahead. When she entered it, she found herself in a large ballroom that she'd seen briefly when they arrived.
A breeze rolled across her skin. Goose bumps broke out on her neck and she turned her head to see the mysterious saboteur standing by an open window looking out at the water.
Details that were hidden before were suddenly revealed in the moonlight. A young woman with long, flowing hair stood at the window. The entirety of her being was cast in a pale blue, and the frame of the window could be seen through her if Bridgette looked closely. She wore an old white dress and through the tint of blue she had strawberry red hair, reminiscent of Janet.
"You're Orianne, aren't you?" Bridgette asked.
The ghost turned and hissed. Then the ghost ran at her.
Bridgette stiffened like a board at first, but she found her feet and ran away. She heard the young woman shout behind her and she escaped along the hallway, terrified that she was going to be pounced on at any moment.
But as soon as she rounded the corner and found herself on the landing at the top of the living room, she spun around to face her attacker and saw that the hallway was empty.
Bridgette took a moment to catch her breath. As she did so, she heard the woman at the distant window again, her voice cooing the same name over and over: "Roger."
That was it, then: the girl wasn't hostile. She never tried to hurt anyone—even when she had possessed Janet; she just wanted to scare them. Bridgette knew she was behind the bloody message written over Billy and Karen's bed, and probably the other strange occurrences they'd experienced. But why? Was she trying to warn them off before they were killed on the anniversary of the slaughters? Orianne didn't seem friendly or particularly worried about their wellbeing. So what was it, then? And who was Roger?
Bridgette puzzled over this. But she had no explanation. She wasn't keen to disturb the ghost either.
She headed back to the dining room downstairs. Everyone except for Trevor sat around the table in relative darkness, licking their wounds.
"Where did you go?" Billy asked her, holding a frozen can of Minute Maid orange juice to his cheek.
"I followed her," Bridgette replied.
"Followed who?"
"The girl who was possessing Janet. It's Orianne."
They all looked at her like she was crazy, but after all the frightening occurrences they were definitely listening.
"She's a ghost," Bridgette said. "She's still here for some reason... she's never gone to the afterlife."
Janet broke into tears. "It's all my fault," she wailed. "I feel like I'm ruining everything. I just haven't felt like myself since I got here. Like something was coming over me."
"I don't mean to interrupt," Karen said, "but are you talking about that shriveled up old bitty down..." Her eyes slowly sank to the floor beneath her feet, then her whole body shook so violently it was like her skin was trying to crawl off. "Oh God!" she moaned.
"I don't know what she wants, though," Bridgette said.
Janet strained herself, trying to summon the feelings she had when Orianne took control of her. "I don't think she wants to hurt us," she said. "She wants us to leave."
Bridgette nodded. "I got that feeling, too."
"She feels deep loss," Janet replied morosely.
"Roger," Bridgette uttered.
"What?" Janet asked. The name was somehow familiar.
Bridgette shrugged it off. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the snake charm Boomer gave her, handing it to Janet.
"What is it?" she asked with a look of disgust.
"Boomer gave it to me," Bridgette replied. "He said it's a snake charm. I don't really know what it does, but he said it's for protection. I just think you should hold onto it for a while. Just in case."
Janet reluctantly took it and turned it over in her hands before putting it in her pocket.
"Well whatever's going on, I think it's time we left," Billy said, now firm in his decision. The others seemed to be in agreement, but Bridgette faltered.
"Where's Trevor?" she asked.
Billy's face turned sour. "Out somewhere. Probably on the water. Not like I care anymore."
"Then we can't leave," Bridgette said.
"What?" Dawson asked.
"If he's out there, we just can't. He's going to get himself killed."
"If we stay here," Dawson said, "we're going to get ourselves killed."
Simon Says
The next morning, the five of them sat around the parlor. None of them made a sound. They hardly moved at all. Occasionally one of them would go out to the balcony and search for any sign of Trevor on the bay or anywhere else, but he was still missing. Bridgette tried texting and calling him, but he didn't answer. Much as they all weren't thrilled with Trevor at the moment, they harbored a deep fear for his wellbeing. Except for Dawson, who knew that Trevor was harder to get rid of than that.
They listened to the empty sounds of the mansion as a thin breeze came in through the loggia and animated the halls. A door creaked somewhere in the distance. A curtain billowed. An archway groaned. Their heads would perk up at each noise. Then silence would come over the area once more and they would all let out a sigh.
Someone hammered on the front doors.
They all jerked upright in their seats. They looked to the courtyard and waited, but silence followed the sudden blows. Beginning to stir and make their way toward the entrance hall, they all cast bewildered glances on each other, silently asking the same question: Who is it?
They crossed the courtyard on an angle past the statue of Jacob Jasper looking skyward and clutching his red jewel in his raised hand like an offering to God, or maybe a show of superiority. Past the antechamber, the five of them crossed the entrance hall in a meek cluster, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the open space.
Dawson unlocked the front doors as the others waited behind him. He pulled one of them open and peeked through the crack.
A man in a light brown jacket stood on the stoop. He had short brown hair with streaks of white just over his sideburns.
His blue eyes cut through the gap in the door like shining sapphires. Uneven stubble covered his face, like he hadn't bothered to shave in a while, and even when he did, he didn't care to do much of a good job.
"Yes?" Dawson asked, still peeking through the crack.
The man just stood and stared. "Well, you going to let me in?"
"Who are you and what do you want?" Dawson asked.
"You're the one who called me," the man said. "You tell me."
Bridgette pushed her way past Dawson. "Simon?" she said, pulling the door open.
"The one and only," the man said with no sign of a smile.
"Oh thank God you're here!" she said. "Come in, please!"
He stepped into the abode and warily glanced around the entrance hall. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some strange gizmo that none of them had seen before. He flicked a switch on the side and the little handheld gizmo gave off a quiet hum, occasionally punctuated by a noise similar to the static-like ping and whine of a Geiger counter. Simon crossed the hall, staring down at his gizmo.
"So what seems to be the problem?" he asked. His voice was grizzled, like he'd been up all night drinking. The way he wore his clothes seemed to suggest the same.
"We think the place is haunted," Bridgette said. She looked at Janet. "Well, we know the place is haunted." She paused. "That's what you do... right?"
He turned and looked up from his machine. "I do a lot of things, but what is it exactly you're asking for?"
"Well, uh..."
"For God's sake mister!" Karen cried. "This whole damn place is a train wreck! Doors banging in the night! Hidden passageways filled with coffins, each of us seeing and hearing things that we can't explain, and then our poor friend Janet here! She gets, well... possessed by one of those things!"
"You mentioned," Simon said, putting the gizmo back inside his jacket. He walked up to Janet. "You're the one?"
She stood on the spot, feeling a bit awkward with all the attention on her, but she nodded.
He tilted her head back, then he pulled her eyelids up with his thumb and gazed at her closely.
"Open your mouth and say 'Ah'."
Dawson glanced at the others, an eyebrow raised.
Janet hesitated at first, but she followed his directions.
Simon stepped away from her. "You sure she was possessed?" he asked Bridgette.
"Yes," Bridgette replied.
He nodded his head as he continued along the hall, heading for the antechamber. "It's not a permanent possession, then."
Bridgette followed him. "No, it's not. She was possessed last night, and then I saw something come out of her, like a shadow. I followed it upstairs and it was the ghost of a young woman. She seemed like she's been here for a very long time. But I don't know what she wants."
"I don't need that many details," he said. He stopped in the antechamber after spying the courtyard beyond. He turned to Bridgette, a curiously amused look on his face. He pointed a finger up and moved it in a circle, motioning to the mansion around them. "This place is yours?"
"Um..."
"Didn't think so," he said. He crossed the courtyard into the parlor. The others looked at each other and shrugged, then they followed him.
Simon saw the open loggia and walked up to the railing, spreading his hands out on it and looking over the bay. "Oh my," he said, "quite a view we have here! You don't see too many places like this looking this nice," he said.
"Places like what?" Bridgette asked.
He turned to them. "Haunted houses."
"So it is haunted?" she said.
"Didn't you just tell me that?" He stepped away from the large balcony and carried on through the house, heading through the hallway toward the living room and pulling out his gizmo again. It beeped and whirred, the static sound of it clicking faster. "This place is definitely haunted," he said. He stopped in the living room and put the device away. Then he turned to them and stared silently.
"So what do we do?" Bridgette asked eagerly.
"Well," Simon said, "considering you're obviously in a place that you shouldn't be in, I'd say you should leave."
"But what about Janet?"
Simon took another look at her. "She'll be fine," he said. "Whoever took control of her doesn't seem to be too terribly interested in her. Probably just a passing fancy, no permanent harm done. As soon as you get out of here, she'll start to feel much better."
"But what about the rest of the house?" Bridgette implored. "What about all the ghosts? Orianne? Can you do something to help them?"
"Help them?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," she said, flustered, "can't you help free them? Get them along to where they're supposed to be? This place is haunted, right? That means their spirits are lingering, like something's wrong. There's also..." She trailed off, about to tell him about the history of the mansion and the ghostly slaughters. And even though she was talking to someone familiar with the subject, the words she proposed to herself to say sounded ridiculous in her head. So she simply said, "This place is dangerous, is all. I think you should do something."
Simon smirked and walked past them, heading back to the hallway they came from. He paused and glanced up the staircase toward the second floor, then he silently shook his head and carried on down the hallway. He pulled the gizmo out of his pocket once more and studied it. He turned to the windows next to them and pointed it toward the bay. The machine clicked a little faster. He returned it to his pocket. When they got back to the parlor, Simon faced them and shook his head. "I can't help you here," he said. "This isn't your run-of-the-mill haunting. There's something majorly different about this place that I can't put my finger on." He turned for the balcony and looked out at the water. "The anchor point's all wrong. It's not even in the house. It's out there somewhere."
"Anchor point?" Bridgette asked, confused. "What do you mean it's not a normal haunting?"
"I don't know," he said. "Most places like this, someone died in a violent way, past traumas unsolved... you know the story. But this place... there's something entirely else at play here, and it's a little out of my wheelhouse."
"So what do we do?" Bridgette asked.
Simon looked at her like she was deaf. "I already told you: leave. This isn't even your house!" He walked over to a bronze information plaque sitting under a large portrait and pinched it with his fingers. "This is a museum, remember? See? See these plaques right here? That means you don't live here. And I doubt you own the place, either."
"But we can't leave," Bridgette said. She stayed mum on why.
A smile crossed Simon's face. "Hmm... you got yourselves a little racket going here, don't you? Well say no more, but that's got nothing to do with me, so I guess I'll just be on my way, then."
"But what if Janet gets possessed again?" she asked.
"I think you know what my answer to that is."
She did: "Leave," she said.
"That's right."
"No," Trevor said, walking into the parlor, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. "We're not going anywhere."
Simon sized Trevor up and down. "I take it this must be the brains behind the operation," he said, somewhat sarcastically. "Well I'll tell you what: I'll be getting out of your hair just as soon as you pay me my fee."
"Fee?" Bridgette said. "But you didn't do anything."
"There's nothing to be done," Simon said. "But we still agreed on the phone to the consultation fee. Lady, I drove all night to get here. My shoulder's still killing me from the last job. You have any idea how much gas plus a stop at Ruby Tuesday runs these days?"
Bridgette was flustered. "Well how much?"
"A thousand, as agreed to."
"But none of us have that kind of cash on us!"
Simon looked to the others, but none of them were any more forthcoming. "What about that?" he asked, pointing to the necklace she wore. "That's platinum, isn't it?"
Bridgette looked down at the necklace in ho
rror. "That was my grandmother's! She had it all her life!"
"Listen," Simon said, "I'm not leaving here without my fee. You're gonna pay me one way or the other. Otherwise I might have to make a phone call to the police. But that might stifle whatever angle you're working here."
"Don't you dare, old man," Trevor said with fire in his eyes.
"Old man?" Simon repeated. "That's original." He plucked the cigarette from Trevor's fingers, then he turned it around and took a long drag. Trevor's jaw clenched, but he left it alone.
"Just take anything!" she said, looking around them at all of the antique furniture and candelabras and picture frames inlaid with gold trim.
"Sorry, but unlike you, I don't pilfer things that don't belong to me," he said, unironically puffing on Trevor's cigarette.
Bridgette stared bitterly at him, but she knew she was defeated. She didn't want to get in trouble with the police, and she knew she had no choice. She pulled her grandmother's necklace off and gave it to Simon without looking at him.
"Have a nice day," he said. Then he turned and left.
A Light in the Darkness
"We can't find it without that map," Trevor said, pacing along the parlor. "It's a damn needle in a haystack without it. But that freak show had to go and burn it!"
"It's not her fault!" Bridgette said. "I told you this already; it was Orianne possessing her."
Trevor slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it with shaky hands. "Ghosts, spirits, strange noises... I don't give a damn about any of that," he said, a hint of fear in his voice. "All I care about is finding that treasure."
"Maybe it's time to pack it up," Bridgette said. "We're not in any trouble. We can leave right now and go back to our lives, and we'll all be safe."
Trevor stopped in his tracks. "Safe? I'll tell you what safe is. Safe is having a good, steady paycheck that keeps you afloat. Safe is being able to pay all your bills so the bank don't foreclose on your house and threaten you with repossessing your boat. Safe means you don't have to steal your last ten packs of smokes. That's safe."
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 52
