He called Landry to apologize. “I’m pulling them off right now. It’s all my fault; when they suggested Proctor Hall for their semester project, I said yes contingent on their getting permission, which I doubted was possible. They ignored my orders about trespass not once, but twice. From now on I’ll choose the projects instead of letting the students do it.”
Landry said, “Keep your fingers crossed Andy recovers with no lasting harm done. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did what you should have. I want to ask you about Proctor Hall. Are you familiar with the stories about it being one of the area’s most haunted houses?”
“I know more than the average person, I guess. I’ve done considerable research because the place fascinates me. First the massacre happens, later Marguey Slattery vanishes, and people blame Noah Proctor for both. It’s a fascinating place.”
Landry asked if Julien had told the team about Andy. He hadn’t, but Marisol, the team leader, had called while he was speaking with Landry. “I’m sure she’s heard it by now. I’ll cancel the project as soon as we’re finished talking.”
“I have an idea. Let me continue the project in collaboration with just one of your students. Cate told me that April is a clairvoyant who felt things at Proctor Hall. Unless you object, I want to ask if she’d work with me. The others can come along too, but it’s April I need. Her psychic powers might uncover the secrets.”
“I like the idea. It would change the dynamics of the project I assigned. The chance to work with you gives them a huge edge over the other teams. I’ll work that part out. I’ll call the kids in and see what happens.”
He emailed Marisol, Michael and April, asking them to come by his office that afternoon. Then he leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and wondered if this was the right thing to do.
How did Landry put it? — Her psychic powers might uncover Proctor Hall’s secrets.
This was the first he’d learned about April being a psychic, and it added an interesting layer to the situation. What might they discover if she teamed up with the famous investigative reporter and ghost hunter? How interesting that might be!
Here came that old feeling again, that excitement of knowing someone was seeking answers at Proctor Hall. How close might they come to learning the truth?
I hope April agrees to work with him. I’d be fascinated to watch their progress.
When they met, Julien told the kids what had happened to their teammate Andy. There were rumors, but the truth astounded Marisol and Michael. April seemed disconnected as she sat with her hands folded in her lap.
When he said Landry Drake wanted them to team up with him, Marisol gave a whoop of joy. “The chance to work with a TV personality! Wow. You don’t have to ask me twice!” Michael was in too. He said it sounded like fun to watch a ghost hunter at work.
“Do we still get the A, even though we’re working with a pro?” Marisol was always the opportunist. Even with a chance like this, she still wanted that top grade.
“If Landry says your effort deserves it, you will.”
April was the critical one, but she said nothing. She stared at the wall as if lost in thought until Marisol said, “You’re in, right, April? What an opportunity!”
No response.
Julien said, “Do you need more time to mull it over? How about until tomorrow?”
“I don’t need more time. I told the others earlier I didn’t like this project. Something awful is in that house, and you know that too, Dr. Girard. Consider what it did to Andy, and what happened to me when we were there. Something horrific inhabits Proctor Hall. Upstairs in a bedroom. An entity so evil it wants to kill us all.”
Julien shot Marisol a look, and she rolled her eyes dramatically. He was glad April was staring into her lap and hadn’t noticed.
Julien asked April if meeting Landry might help address her issues.
“I don’t believe you appreciate what Proctor Hall is. It’s far more than an old farmhouse. There’s more to it than Noah Proctor and his family, or Marguey Slattery, or the things people claim to see there at night. I sense things other people don’t. As a result, the aura surrounding some buildings repulses me. Proctor Hall is one of the worst I’ve experienced.
“That said, set up a meeting if you wish, and include Marisol and Michael. I doubt a discussion will change anything, but I’m willing to listen. Maybe we can all learn something.”
Everyone gathered at Channel Nine’s French Quarter studio the next afternoon. The students had never been inside a television station, and they found it fascinating. So did their professor, who marveled at the amount of equipment it took just to air the six o’clock news.
Forewarned about April’s concerns, Landry asked Henri to join them. His decades of experience in the paranormal field might just bring the girl around. Landry presented as straightforward and honest a case for continuing as possible.
When he finished, Henri took April aside for a private conversation. As they rejoined the others, he said, “April agrees to go back. At the first sign of trouble, I’ll take her away. But I’m hoping we can learn what happened to Andy and the secrets of Proctor Hall.”
After the students and Julien left, Landry invited Henri to the Carousel Bar at the Monteleone Hotel for a cocktail. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he quipped, and Henri commented as busy as the bar always was, it might just be five o’clock in New Orleans too by the time they got their drinks.
Henri complimented Landry for his professionalism and concern for the welfare of others. Landry considered the times he’d showed neither, but he appreciated Henri’s efforts to keep the project going.
He replied, “Thanks for whatever you did to change April’s mind. What was the tipping point that caused that to happen?”
“April revealed something important. Not only is she a clairvoyant, she’s into Ouija boards. I piqued her interest by saying being inside a haunted house with a Ouija board would be a first in my career. Who knows what the spirits may reveal?”
“Bravo,” Landry said, raising his glass to clink with Henri’s. “Good luck to all of us.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Why do they make me stay where it’s always dark? I like the light, but they won’t allow it. I would like to see, but in the darkness there is nothing to see.
I don’t know where I am. It is very, very quiet around me, so I must be somewhere all alone. It’s a small place. I lie here; I can touch the sides, the top and bottom, but I don’t tap on them. They don’t like it when I do that. If I am thirsty or hungry, I wait. They will come eventually. They always have.
It’s always damp, but now some water has begun to seep in. I wonder why, and if it gets worse, will it drown me?
I think about what would happen if someone didn’t come. How quickly would I die? Perhaps I’m already dead, and I would just stay here forever.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Landry fought to keep the Jeep in its lane as wind whipped across the interstate. They hadn’t planned for a storm, but one was in their future. Born in Mexico’s Campeche state, that morning tropical storm Emily had made landfall in Terrebonne Parish. Sixty-mile-an-hour winds didn’t faze residents of south Louisiana — even Category 1 hurricanes didn’t make most residents pack up and leave — but flooding could be an issue.
The forecasters projected Emily would turn east toward Mississippi, but storms sometimes had other plans. During the day the path shifted to the west, and now Lafourche Parish was preparing for a lot of wind and rain.
As Landry’s hands clenched the wheel, Henri wondered out loud if they should have cancelled. Landry said no way, reminding him how much preparation had gone into this. A full camera crew had been at the house all day, setting up equipment, and Cate’s father, Doc Adams, had flown in yesterday to watch the proceedings at the old farmhouse he’d purchased not long ago.
He and Cate were in the back seat, and both agreed that the show must go on. Doc said a little rain never hurt
anyone, just as a jagged bolt of lightning struck a tree fifty yards off the highway that exploded with a bang.
Landry had asked Julien and the students to come by seven, which should have given them an hour to prep before sundown, but the storm changed all that. Landry had used headlights since they left New Orleans, and now at five thirty, it was dark.
He turned off the highway, splashing through huge puddles as he drove down the slick one-lane road. He lost control for a moment, sliding as Cate yelled for him to slow down. He put the Jeep in four-wheel drive and made the rest of the drive with no problem.
Landry wondered how the road would be a few hours from now. The plan was to leave the house around midnight, but if this kept up, they might have to wait for the ground to dry. That meant morning, which meant spending the night at Proctor Hall.
Cate wondered if Julien’s vehicle was all-wheel drive, and Landry called to ask. The evening would be wasted without April, and if Julien’s car couldn’t make it to the house, everyone had assembled for nothing.
Julien said he was in his Toyota Corolla and not far out. Landry suggested he park off the highway and he’d pick them up. Cate gave her dad a tour of the old house while Henri assembled the tools that would detect fluctuations in energy levels, pick up sounds, and shoot video in infrared.
After Landry, Julien and the students hung up their drenched jackets, Landry gathered everyone in the kitchen and explained what they’d be doing. Starting with the entry hall, they would go room by room, upstairs and down. A motion-activated camera stood in each room and hallway, ready to capture any sound or movement. As lead cameraman, Phil would stay with April, recording her every move and comment as she walked from room to room.
Landry wanted to pay special attention to three areas: the stairway where Noah Proctor sat; the room where they found the bodies; and the upstairs bedroom where he and Henri found Andy Arnaud babbling about a body in the bed.
April perked up. “Which bedroom was it? The far one on the left?”
Landry nodded.
She said to Cate, “That’s the room! That’s where I sensed things last time. It’s the most haunted room of them all. I didn’t realize that’s where Andy was. I can’t go there. None of us can. There’s something wicked in there. Something terrible.”
At that moment Henri entered the room wearing a one-piece black outfit with a zipper down the front. Antennas protruded everywhere from his oversized backpack. Hoses that snaked around his torso were attached to his wrists with Velcro. There were smiles and a few titters of laughter from the assemblage. Even the stoic April smiled.
Unconcerned about his odd appearance, he tromped through the room like an astronaut on a lunar walk. Henri asked, “I heard you say one room is most haunted. Which is it?”
She told him about the upstairs bedroom, and he said he’d be by her side every step of the way, adding, “You’re correct about the supernatural phenomena in this house. I’ve sensed a presence since the moment I stepped over the threshold. You and I will stand together against whatever it is. If you’re finished here, Landry, I’d like to get started.”
“There could be an army by my side and I’m still not going in there,” April muttered.
They walked into the hall, Landry’s director and the other WCCY-TV crew members fanning out to their stations. Just then the power failed, and the sudden darkness was so absolute it was like being in a tomb.
The director said, “Don’t move until your eyes adjust. We don’t want anyone running into the equipment. Guys, get the battery packs from the van.”
Three men donned slickers and rushed out to retrieve the batteries while Henri, Landry and Cate took out pocket flashlights. Soon the hallways and rooms were lit again, this time from stage lights mounted high on tripods. Light bouncing off the gauzy old sheers that covered the windows created ghostly shadows that danced upon the walls.
Marisol said dramatically, “People gather in a haunted house as a storm rages outside. Then the power goes out. Is it the storm, or is Noah Proctor roaming the halls once again, wielding his bloody hatchet and looking for his next victim?”
“Stop it!” April shouted. “This is nothing to joke about. Don’t you sense their presences?”
“Who? We’re the only ones here, April. Just because you’re the star tonight doesn’t mean we need your theatrics.”
April shuddered as a deep, mournful sigh echoed through the upper parts of the old farmhouse. Julien said, “We have important work to do here. Marisol, please keep your comments to yourself. Three horrific murders happened in this house, and the dead deserve our respect.”
The director gave a signal, and Landry started his monologue. He gave the date and time, the names of those present and what tonight’s mission would be. Then the evening’s work began.
“Let’s go to the sitting room,” Henri said as he led everyone to that fateful chamber. In front of the fireplace stood a card table and two folding chairs the crew had set up. Henri removed his bulky pack and took a chair.
“April, please sit here across from me. Everyone else, stand back to give us space. Is there anything you can tell me about this room? What are your sensations?”
“Uneasy. Nervous. Terrified, if you want the truth.”
April unzipped her backpack, removed something and put it on the table. There were murmurs from those watching as they realized what she brought out.
An old wooden Ouija board and a planchette.
“This is something new for me,” Landry said into the camera as April and Henri spoke in whispers. “In my paranormal investigations I’ve never seen someone use a Ouija board, nor am I convinced it’s anything but a parlor game. April claims to have psychic powers and has used the board, and Henri asked her to bring it along tonight. He will call out the letters if a spirit moves the pointer, and we’ll see what happens.”
A rolling boom of thunder shook the walls as the two rested their fingers lightly on the planchette. April said, “Is my name April?”
Nothing happened, and she asked again.
Nothing.
“Sometimes it takes a few minutes to get things going,” she murmured. “Sometimes there’s nobody to hear the question. But that’s not right tonight, is it? There is someone here. Who are you?”
The planchette slid across the board, surprising even Henri and April, who leaned in closer to keep their fingers on the pointer.
M-E.
“ME. That’s your name?”
The planchette jerked to the top of the board and paused over the word NO.
“Who are you, then?”
ME.
“Okay,” April continued. “You’re ‘me.’ Did you live in this house?”
NOW.
“You live here now?”
YES.
“Are you dead?”
YES.
Henri whispered to April, “No one knows where the Proctor bodies are. See if she will tell you where she’s buried.”
“She may not be female — or a Proctor.”
“Perhaps we can find that out too.”
April said, “Are you a woman?”
N-O-T-Y-E-T.
“A girl, then?”
YES.
“Is your last name Proctor?”
The planchette spun wildly, moving so quickly Henri had trouble calling out the letters.
M-Y-H-O-U-S-E
MY HOUSE.
“This is your house?”
YES.
“Where are you buried?”
HERE.
“Are you buried in this room?”
HOUSE.
“Somewhere in the house?”
YES.
“Who killed you?”
No answer.
Henri said, “Maybe she wasn’t killed. We don’t know who she is; she may not be a Proctor at all, and she might have died another way.”
“Did you and your family die?”
DIE.
“You died. Did someone hurt y
ou?”
YOU. DIE.
April screamed and jumped out of her chair, tossing the board and planchette to the floor. She ran out of the room, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Channel Nine cameraman. Henri caught up with her as she fumbled to unlatch the outside door. The others ran to the hall behind them, wondering what was up.
“April, wait! Everything’s all right.”
“I’m going to die. You saw the message!”
The Proctor Hall Horror Page 6
