by Kim Hornsby
***
That night, I went to the third floor after everyone retired and tried to summon Caspian. I stood in the hall whispering his name, then planted myself in one of the chairs on either side of the long table under the mirror. Tonight, I’d worn a low-cut dress, had not spiked my blue-tipped hair and wore very little makeup. All things that Caspian liked. I wasn’t beyond baiting the man to appear. For the first half hour, I just talked out loud to Caspian, telling him that I missed him and asking him to appear.
Nothing. Not even Moonraker, his cat, rubbed against my legs, but then, that could be because Hodor was at my feet and I knew the cat could see him. Luckily, my dog only smelled the ghost of the cat in the past.
After a time, I stood to face the mirror and although I couldn’t see, I attempted scrying, a practice I rarely relied on because my clairvoyance made it unnecessary. Facing the mirror, I stared straight ahead, of course seeing nothing, and called to my sea captain. “Caspian, if you can come through the mirror, I’d really appreciate it. You have me worried now, Dude.” I gulped down the lump that had risen in my throat. “Your last words to me sounded like you’d be gone a long time. Or they were instructions that I should dig deep in my memory banks to pull up some past incident with you. I don’t know which, but you’re not here to tell me. Please try to come through in the mirror. Let me see you.” I listened, blinked, rubbed my eyes and still nothing.
Paranormal investigators are used to waiting long stretches of time, getting nothing, being persistent. I’m no different. I don’t give up after a few minutes of attempt even though in this instance, my heart was aching to see Caspian.
I stood facing the mirror for over an hour talking to Caspian about various things and hoped my mother or anyone else was not lurking on the stairs, listening. Since my clairvoyance had returned with Caspian’s departure, I was sensing all kinds of stuff, including who was approaching and how far away they were. I sensed nothing of the kind tonight. All I sensed was hanky-panky going on in Rachel’s new room on the next floor. Even though the thought disgusted me, like most kids who imagine their parents doing anything sexual, I recalled Rachel’s physique being described as a “rockin body meant for fun,” by her last boyfriend, a fake businessman who pretended to have houses all over the world but never seemed to have his wallet on him to pay for dinner. Distracted and tired of trying to scry, I sat on the chair again, wondering if I could get a message to Caspian through Jacqueline by going to the bloody bedroom to summon her. Caspian’s estranged wife had been anything but nice to us since we moved in and played enough tricks to confuse and annoy me to make me think she wouldn’t lend a helping ghostly hand, but it was worth a try.
I made my way downstairs to the bloody bedroom where no one dared to sleep, even though we knew the blood was only Caspian’s, and stepped inside the room, closing the door firmly behind me, I was careful to make sure Hodor’s tail was completely inside, something I learned the hard way with my sweet dog. Tonight, I’d fastened his harness from the Seeing Eye Dog School and had let him lead me up and down the stairs, having given TapTap a night off. I knew the stairs well enough that it wasn’t a big gamble to let Hodor earn his keep this way. Although he’d had months of training at Seeing Eye Dog School, he’d flunked, and my expectations were low for him. I was astounded every time I put the harness and handle on; my dog became a bona fide guide dog staying by my right thigh, no sniffing the floor, no dancing around and begging me to play ball. Even entering the bloody bedroom, he’d led me in and waited for me to close the door. There was hope for the beast who’d been kicked out of school.
“Jacqueline? Are you here?” I let Hodor lead me around the room. He took me to the fireplace where there was a chair and I wondered how well he could see outlines of things in the dark room. Or if the drapes at the tall window were open and there was a moon tonight. I wouldn’t know unless Caspian showed up, but I sat in the chair and told Hodor he was a good boy. Because he was.
“Jacqueline? I know you have reason to dislike Caspian, probably hate him.” She’d tried to stab him in his sleep, so this wasn’t clairvoyant brilliance I was relying on, but straight ol’ putting two and two together. “Are you here tonight? I said I’d do you a favor if you let Eve go.” Last week, when Jacqueline had inhabited my beloved cousin’s body, she had to be reasoned with to leave. She’d not only played the piano, but also unbuttoned Eve’s shirt to J Lo levels and then proceeded to bait Caspian with insinuations. I’d bargained with her saying I’d do a favor if she let Eve go. She did. Caspian thought Jacqueline left not by choice. He’d told me she faded away, not done a service to us, but a deal was a deal. I owed Jacqueline a favor and hoped I could deliver without being asked to kill Caspian or do something that would amuse and satisfy an evil person.
“Jacqueline? Are you here in this room? I’m wondering if Caspian is with you.” I wanted to say something I thought would make her attempt communication and believed mentioning her husband’s name might light a fire under her temper and sense of trickery. “I know you don’t think much of your husband, but I’m hoping to help you see what a wonderful person he is.” I said, tongue firmly planted in cheek. If, what Caspian said was true, Jacqueline’s temper might bring her to me to dispute that she thought anything but hatred for her husband and that was never going to change. I waited. I listened. The wind scraped a branch across the house and the windows rattled. Was this Jacqueline?
“Are you here?” Time passed. I was on hyper-aware setting.
Next thing, I felt a stab of pain in my back, between my shoulder blades, and instinctively folded in on myself and spun around in the chair. I couldn’t see anything but threw out my arms to try to feel the entity that attacked me. “Jacqueline, I’m here in friendship.” Hodor licked my hand. He could sense something, at the least that I was in distress. The pain in my back was gone but it had been so intense for a second, that I wondered if that was what it felt like to be stabbed. “Jacqueline, I know you need to pass on from this house and I’d like to help you. That’s the favor I want to offer.”
The room became consumed with a swirling cold wind, blowing my hair into my face and chilling me instantly. Hodor barked several times and I laid my hand on his back. “It’s OK,” I said, wondering if it actually was OK. “Jacqueline, I can help you pass on to be with Stevens, if that’s what you want, but you have to help me find Caspian.” If I’d had eyesight, would I have seen her form in the room? Hodor was trembling under my hand, which suggested he saw prey. Or at least realized that prey was nearby. My freaky psychic ability told me it was Jacqueline and she was angry. “Caspian has not been around for days and I need him back. You find him for me and I will help you pass on.”
I was just about to explain that I’d have to find out what bound her to this between life when the wind died as quickly as it was born, and the room went back to a slightly chilly sixty-six degrees, the usual temperature of Cove House. I kept the house cool because this sucker was humongous to heat. Hodor whined. “Everything is fine, boy.” I hoped my dog was not inhabited by Jacqueline. I was pretty sure that if the witch of the bloody bedroom could have inhabited me, she would have by now. I rarely asked an entity to inhabit me, something that was invitation only with me.
I sensed no ghostly activity remained in the room and I wondered if Jacqueline had tried to stab me in the back. Stabbing seemed to be her thing. At least Hodor remained safe from her dagger. I took the harness handle and Hodor led me to the door. Did Jacqueline get my message?
Find Caspian.
Tomorrow, I would try this room again with Eve helping. She might not have the full meal deal in clairvoyance, but she had eyes to see a ghost. Something I did not.
Chapter 4
It was now day five without Caspian. I’d lain in bed after my summoning in the bloody bedroom last night, half-expecting him to show up saying something like, “Jacqueline told me you’re looking for me.” But he didn’t. I fell asleep disappointed and dreamed about wor
king a retail job where the customers were mean and threw clothes on the floor of the dress shop.
I woke thinking I’d lost my wallet, something that had credit cards and lots of cash inside as well as a ticket I needed to claim a lottery win. When I sat up in bed and realized I’d only been dreaming, I was relieved but wondered if the wallet in my dream represented Caspian. He didn’t have control of my cash and credit cards, but he had control over much more. It was an interesting thought as I slipped on my jeans and sweater for the day.
I always got downstairs first, and although the coffee maker was programed to begin at seven, I often found myself in front of it earlier and pushed the power button myself. As I waited for the French Roast to fill the pot that morning, I let Hodor out the back door that led to the lawn, the cliff and the ocean beyond. I assumed he ran straight to the coach house where stray cats roamed and lived.
So far, I’d avoided Ron’s questions about his ongoing case by changing the subject, leaving the room for unknown reasons and last night after dinner, when he tried to talk to me about clairvoyance, I’d pretended I needed to make an important phone call and went to my room.
Hodor came in the door wet and I heard the rain softly falling on the stairs that led from the veranda to the lawn below. I grabbed the dog towel we kept by the back door and dried him off. “Did you chase those poor kitties, boy? Be nice to the kitties,” I said, giving him a thorough rubdown with the towel.
Once I got a mug of coffee, I crossed to the table and settled into the chair to think about how else I could try to find Caspian, asking myself the million-dollar question. Did he know when he disappeared the other night, that he’d be gone for good? The coffee was warm going down and I swallowed and took a long, deep breath. “Caspian, where are you?”
He’d been gone for days before, but this time was different. If he’d simply disappeared, or said “Hasta luego,” I wouldn’t be so worried. Was it possible that in restoring my abilities, he’d done the deed needed to pass on to the afterlife? That he didn’t need to bury his bones after all?
I remembered his salty, manly smell and how his lips felt, gentle, but insistent against mine. Although grieving had become a way of life for me now, I didn’t want to grieve twice in one year. I’d finally been able to push past the dark grief of losing Harry in the accident and was thinking I might be able to move on with my life now. I hadn’t intended to fall for Caspian. Not at all. Of course, once I saw him, I knew it was going to be a wonderful distraction having him around with his bedroom eyes and his smirking smile. Caspian was a big, gorgeous movie-star looking man and it was difficult to not look at him and want to run my hands all over his beautifulness.
What changed everything was walking on the beach with him, laughing at my dog navigating the waves. Caspian had said his father taught him to swim, talked about his love for the sea, and my heart had seeded and bloomed for this man. He’d seemed less like a ghost and more like an Alive. The hour on the beach felt like a date, strangely enough. I’d always thought of ghosts with a detachment that set them apart from those still here and navigating the emotions of daily life. Caspian was not like any ghost I’d ever met and that day on the beach proved something else. He was not like an Alive I’d ever met either.
Strange footsteps sounded on the stairs beyond the hall and I heard someone approach the kitchen. I knew everyone’s sound as they walked along the tile floor of this house, so I assumed it was Ron. As he got to the doorway, my sense told me I was right.
“Did you sleep well, Ron?” I asked, tilting my head so I’d be looking in the direction of the doorway.
“I did sleep well, thanks.” He moved into the room and pulled out the chair next to me. Hodor stood and was about to growl when I laid my hand on my dog’s back. Ron sat down and I knew he was staring at me. There’d be no running away now. It was me and Ron, alone in the kitchen and he could ask me anything he wanted, knowing I had nowhere to go but to the coffee maker for another cup.
“I know you’re staring,” I said. “It’s fine, but I wonder what you’re thinking.”
“If you know I’m staring at you, why don’t you also know what I’m thinking?” His voice was full of challenge.
“I do know. I was wondering if you’d try to cover it up.”
“What am I thinking then?”
It was good-hearted fun, not a snarky challenge and I laughed out loud. “You’re thinking that I look so much like your lover upstairs.”
Now, it was Ron’s turn to laugh. “Should’ve known to block that thought.”
“Coffee’s on,” I offered.
He rose from the chair.
“Can you block thoughts?” I wasn’t sure if police trained to do that.
“Not that I know of. It would be handy around here though.”
I didn’t believe him.
He poured a cup of coffee and then I heard a rush of water in the pipes upstairs signifying someone else was awake. “I want to talk to you about this Giovanni case,” Ron said, and I folded my arms across my chest, hoping my mother was on her way because this was the moment I was dreading.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Ron took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t want to talk about this in front of Rachel.”
Oh, oh, here came the part where I had to choose between lying to save my mother or telling the truth and sending her to the slammer. “Why not in front of my mother?” If he said it was because she was lying, I didn’t need to worry about blowing the top off her relationship with the cop. If he said he couldn’t get a word in edgewise around Rachel, I’d know he had my mother figured out.
“She’s sensitive about the death. Mrs. G was like a mother to her and she tears up every time I ask her anything. I’ve been waiting to talk to you because Rachel won’t talk about it.”
I took a long sip of my coffee while I tried to keep from blurting out the reason my mother wouldn’t talk about Mrs. G’s death was because she’d lied and said I foresaw a murder when truthfully, I saw nothing. The night Rachel led me into Mrs. G’s bedroom, past the police tape (OK, there was no tape but there soon would be) and asked me to snoop around her bedroom for psychic clues, I came up empty. But Eve was sure Mrs. G was forced to do something and it was not the daughter who ended the old lady’s life, but a dude. Telling Ron it was my prediction was a mistake but then my mother made these morally questionable judgement calls on a daily basis. And I’d been covering for her for over two decades. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to play her game anymore, but I didn’t. “What do you want to know?” I asked Ron, leaning to pet Hodor and to hide my sweaty upper lip.
“I’d like to hear directly from you what you felt.”
I was tempted to lie on the floor and snuggle into Hodor, hiding my face in his fur. Instead I sat up straight, attempted to make my face look troubled and stared off towards the ceiling. “I’d need to go in there again,” I chose my words carefully, using a low voice to sound more like I was possessed. “But the feeling was that Mrs. G did not die naturally. She was forced to do something, maybe take a drink, and it was a man who did that.” I shook my head like the vision was gone and put my head in my hands like those sentences took everything from me.
With perfect timing, Eve’s footsteps tapped along the hall.
“Here comes Eve!” I said brightly, the pretense now gone. “Good morrow, Cousin.”
Eve walked to me. “I had the worst dream about you, Bryndle.” She rested her hands on my shoulders. “Super stoked to see you with a cuppa java, shooting the shit with Ron.” Eve’s voice was breathless, like she’d run downstairs.
“What was your dream?” I needed to change the subject anyhow.
“You…you were being interrogated and tortured by the Nazi’s,” she said drifting off to the other side of the kitchen. I detected Eve was lying.
“Did I give up important secrets?”
“You were not going to say anything, under any circumstances. Then, I woke. Good morning, Ron.�
�
I tried to look over to Ron. “Eve is a very vivid dreamer. Me too. It’s a Primrose thing.” I now knew that Eve sensed Ron was talking to me downstairs and hurried down to intercept. She was sure I didn’t want to lie for my mother, but I also didn’t want her to go to jail for interfering with an investigation. Who knew what else Rachel did or said to get Ron to take her idea of a murder seriously? “I dreamed I was on a beach with giant fish who lived on air and they told me to stay out of the water. I saw zombies swimming around in there.”
“I never remember my dreams,” Ron said, having taken the bait to change the subject.
Eve poured a cup of coffee on the other side of the room. “It’s our jam, right Bryn? We analyze our dreams pretty much every day. Yesterday, I dreamed that you feared someone was gone forever from your life.”
We hadn’t told Ron about Caspian yet. Unless Rachel spilled the beans; I’d asked her not to or I’d spill bigger beans about her lying to Ron about my prediction. There was no reason to tell Ron, unless Caspian showed up and I mistakenly commented on what Ron was wearing or looked him straight in the eyes.
“Rachel dreams a lot,” Ron said. “Am I allowed to say that in front of you Bryndle?”
“That you sleep with my mother? Yes, that’s fine, Ron. We’re all adults. I just don’t want any details.”
Ron chuckled. “I’ll only say that she kicks in her sleep while dreaming.”
“Something I am too familiar with, unfortunately,” I whispered.
“She said she shared your bedroom here because she was afraid of a ghost but would not tell me anything more.” Ron sounded like he was leaning forward, staring at me, waiting for a story. I decided to throw him a bone.
“There are several ghosts in this house.”
Eve cleared her throat in warning.
“It’s OK, Eve. Ron’s almost family. I can tell him.” I tried to shoot a psychic message to Eve that I was going to mess with Ron a bit, and hoped she’d get it. “The evil ghost is a woman who lived here with her lover in the mid 1800’s. We don’t know how she died or why she remains, but apparently, she’s dangerous. We believe she might have killed someone.” I said this last word spooky-like. “She’s played some tricks on us, like moving my coffee cup, detaching the hall chandelier so it would fall on our heads to kill us and then, most recently, she inhabited Eve’s body to play the piano and terrorize a dinner party.” All of this was true. So far, I hadn’t lied to a cop. “She’s the one who stabbed someone in a bedroom upstairs.” I had yet to tell Eve I’d been fake-stabbed myself.
