Midas whispered to me, “Energy. She’s trying to manifest. Jack, keep the lights off!” he called as Jack ran toward the sound booth.
“Roger!” Jack shouted over his shoulder. I should have known his number one concern would be recording the phenomenon we were about to witness.
Just as the darkness had swirled earlier, the light grew now. It began as an orb, then two orbs, then a glowing light, and then there was Estella in her fine green gown.
I caught my breath to see her. Jack began to play the recording of Fortunato’s Spring, and the spirit began to sing, melodically, perfectly. And then after a few notes, she began to fade. Her lovely face was turned up toward the light that appeared above her. She sang with all her heart, but we could no longer hear her.
Finally, after all these years, Estella had her turn, and it was her last turn.
Suddenly, the light flashed and she vanished. We all gasped to see Sierra lying on the floor in her place. She was in her pajama pants and shirt, her hair down and messy. She woke up in Midas’ arms and asked, “Where’s Josh?”
“I’m sure he’s looking for you, Little Sister. Time to get you home.” And like a good friend, he picked her up and carried her out of the Crescent without looking back. Had Sierra been Estella, or had Estella been Sierra? What a strange night this had been!
I found Norman crying in an auditorium seat. “I can hardly believe it. I can’t believe what I saw. She’s really gone now, isn’t she?”
I looked at Bruce and Helen and then nodded at Norman. “Yes, she’s really gone. I don’t understand half of what happened tonight, but she’s definitely gone.”
“Thank you, Cassidy. Thank you for everything.” He hugged me, and I hugged him back. Jack shouted at me, “Hey, you going to help me tear down? I want to review the footage tonight. You game?”
“Heck no. I want to take a long hot bath and forget all this.” I pulled the pins from my hair.
“You look quite fetching, Lady Cassidy.”
With a mock curtsy I said, “Why, thank you, sir. Good night!”
I knew I should help him, but I wasn’t lying. I was exhausted and needed time to process what I had experienced. I’d catch up with Midas later, I was sure, and check on Sierra.
With one last look back at the darkened auditorium, I said goodbye to the Crescent Theater. I hoped this would be the last time I ever set foot in here.
I paused in the doorway, straining to hear the whispers of “my turn.” None came.
All was well. The battle was over.
Now was a time for the living.
Epilogue—Cassidy
I leaned back on the barstool to get a peek at the clock in the kitchen. I frequently lost track of time whenever I painted. And apparently, that was the case today, too.
Oh, shoot! It’s almost seven o’clock!
My oversized train station clock indicated that it was well past time to put the paintbrushes away. Midas would arrive soon, and we would finally pick up where we left off before this whole thing started. Hopefully with another kiss. I vowed that this time I’d keep my hormones in check and not end up wallowing in the sand with him. I couldn’t deny there was an incredible attraction between us, but I could try to act like a lady.
I felt a chill in the air. Ever since I began my work with Gulf Coast Paranormal, my sensitivity to cold spots had increased—exponentially. With an impatient sigh, I put the brush in my water jar and walked to the kitchen window.
You would think after my run-in with the Kali Oka demon-bird, I’d have learned my lesson about leaving this window open. You’d never convince me it wasn’t that creature that had scratched me up and shed its black feathers in my loft. It hadn’t been back since we’d completed that investigation, which was just more proof to me. I closed the window and slid the lock into place.
Perfect timing, I thought as I saw Midas pull up.
I watched my date’s SUV ease into an empty space in front of the building. And then he stepped out looking like a million bucks, in a fitted navy button-down and dark blue jeans. I quickly scrubbed my hands, dried them and fussed over my hair. When the doorbell rang I practically sprinted to the door. God, I’m so lame. I forced myself to silently count to ten. Okay, I made it to five before I opened it with a ridiculous smile on my face.
“Hi,” I purred happily.
“Hello, Cassidy.”
“Come in. I’m almost ready.” He did, and I closed the door behind him. I really didn’t have anything else to do except grab my purse, but I liked having him around. “Make sure you say hello to Thurston.”
He strolled to the bar and lightly touched the goldfish’s aquarium. “Hi, fella. I see you’re still alive.”
“Hey…” I said as I slid the purse strap up on my shoulder. “He’s alive and very happy, thank you very much.”
He grinned at me and nodded to my painting. “Working on a new project?”
“Yes, but it’s not work-related. I mean, it’s just from my imagination, not a vision or dream.” I hope. I’d like to move this relationship along, if that’s what this is.
“Still working on Kylie? Any changes there?”
I nodded and took his hand. “Yes. Would you like to see?”
He smiled and followed me to the other easel, the one by the big curtainless window. I always left her there. It was like I wanted to give her a view, something to look at while I was gone. I could almost hear her voice. You’re so weird, Cassidy.
“Hey, you added a street sign—Harmony Street. Interesting. Common name, but having that water tower nearby will narrow things down. Is that a ribbon in her hair?”
“Yes. The funny thing is I don’t remember her ever wearing a ribbon, but it felt right to add it. I wonder what that means.” I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I didn’t want it to mean that she was hurt. Or that she was gone.
Please, Kylie. Speak to me!
“Keep painting, Cassidy. You’re getting closer to the answers you seek. Don’t give up now.”
I traced the line of my sister’s young face. “I don’t plan on it, but it is hard not to sometimes.”
“I know.”
Kylie’s bright eyes looked back at me. I imagined I could hear her impatient voice, “Duh, Cassidy. Come on. Get with it, sis.” She looked so much like our mother and never knew it. Mom died the day Kylie was born, and she felt such guilt over it. She used to get in these moods where she wanted to know everything about Mom.
What did Mom like to cook? What songs did she sing? What did she smell like?
I used to get so frustrated with her. God, I was so selfish, but didn’t she understand that I didn’t want to think about Mom? That I didn’t want to remember? All that had changed, and now I asked myself those same questions about them both. My hand lingered over the painting. I wondered if someday I would touch it and see her like I saw Estella and Aurelia Davis. Would I know if she was alive or dead? Did I want to know? Wasn’t it better to not know? Then she would always be alive, no matter what the truth really was.
I withdrew my hand.
I’d been lingering in the past too long already. Midas was this moment. He was my right now. No matter how things turned out with us, whether we were just friends or something more, I wanted to live in this current moment to the fullest, not get stuck in the past. I would paint and I would listen, but I wouldn’t stop living. Kylie wouldn’t want that.
“You ready to go?”
“Yes. I am, Midas.”
Picking up my blue silk scarf, I glanced one more time at Kylie’s portrait before I flipped the lights off. Nothing changed. Nothing weird happened.
And that gave me hope.
“Night, Kylie,” I whispered. I didn’t hear a thing. Not a peep.
With a smile I closed the door.
A Haunting on Bloodgood Row
Book Three
Gulf Coast Paranormal Series
By M.L. Bullock
Text copyright © 2017 Monica L. Bullock
All rights reserved
Dedication
For Bruno, a furry ball of wonder. I miss you.
Prologue—Mark McGinnis
I sat in my truck and scowled in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t believe my ears. My general contractor sounded as if he planned to bail out on my job. A good-paying job, too, and all because a few of his guys got spooked working in an old house. And what am I supposed to do about it? I hoped my ticked-off expression conveyed my annoyance over the phone. “You’re killing me, Lambert. You knew when you took this job that I was on a tight schedule. I turned down cheaper proposals to hire you, and you do this to me? What kind of bull crap is this?” I heard the older man clear his throat nervously. I didn’t feel sorry for him. It was my ass on the line, not his. I was the one shelling out the cash for this renovation.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. McGinnis. They’ve had ladders shoved out from under them, their tools moved…and they aren’t a bunch of assholes. These are good guys and not the kind who would exaggerate things. They won’t go back up there until you get this straightened out. They want some assurance that the place is…empty.” Philip Lambert was the best in the business; I’d worked with him on three other occasions without any problems. Not so much as a complaint. Previously he delivered under budget and on time; I’d never known him to say something ridiculous or to spout off about ghosts. Or whatever he was saying now.
“Sounds to me like your guys are looking for a reason to quit. Is this a way of positioning for an early draw? What’s their angle, Phil?”
I heard him swear under his breath. “You’re not listening, Mark. I’ve told you what the problem is—the place is dangerous.”
I flipped down the visor to shield my eyes from the setting sun. “Right, dangerous ghosts.” I made a ghostly sound, but he didn’t think it was funny. “Maybe you need to hire new hands, Phil. I don’t know how you are going to fix this, but I’m holding you responsible. Get on with the damn work! If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else and I’ll see you in court.”
“See, that’s where you got a problem. We have a contract, Mr. McGinnis.”
“No! I don’t have a problem—you do! You get those guys up there and finish this job, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“There’s no reason for you to threaten me, sir. I’m with you. I know where you’re coming from. And if I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it was true.” His voice sounded unsure, shaky. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Are you telling me that you, Philip Lambert, saw a ghost on my property? On Bloodgood Row? Are you high? You’re too old to be picking up a habit like that. You can’t spare the brain cells.” I couldn’t figure out why, but my skin was crawling just listening to the fear in his voice. I’d never known Phil to talk crazy like this.
“That’s what I’m saying. My own son has seen the thing crawling on the floor, and I saw a woman. She was in that upstairs room, in the middle building, and she was hanging from the…”
“Look, Lambert! You either get a new crew on my jobsite or you finish it yourself. Get the Sheetrock up, finish the floors and get out. And if you think I’m going to give you more money, you are sadly mistaken.” I slapped my hat back on my head. I was ready to put an end to this entire conversation.
“Do you think that I wanted to make this phone call? That I don’t know it’s my ass on the line? The thing is, I can’t deny that something is going on. And I don’t like it. You call me when you get it straight, and I’ll have my guys over there before you can say, ‘Jiminy Cricket.’”
“And how am I supposed to do that, Phil? Come and sing Kumbaya with you guys? Hold your hands?”
“How do I know? Call Ghostbusters if you got to, but do something.” And with that, Phil hung up on me.
I tossed the phone in the seat beside me. You’ve got to be kidding me. Tell me this isn’t happening! My wife is going to lose her mind when she sees how bad we’re going to lose it on this property. I cranked the truck and headed to my half-finished renovation in downtown Mobile, wracking my brain on the way. What if Phil was right? What if something was going on there? There had to be an explanation. Maybe a gas leak that was causing everyone to hallucinate? What else could it be? A trick of the light? I’d met Phil’s crew. He was right—there was not a wimp in the bunch.
It was six o’clock, and the traffic was minimal. That would all change in a few hours when downtown Dauphin Street came to life. My construction site was two streets over from the main drag. That didn’t put it directly in the party zone, but there were always a few boozy stragglers who strayed out of the nightclub district. And sometimes those stragglers had sticky fingers. I had to make sure the place was buttoned up before the weekend rolled around. If I did have to hire a new contractor, I wanted to be sure my supplies were still there and not at a pawn shop.
Phil Lambert better not try to screw me over. He’d regret that move.
I parked in front of the trio of connected buildings and got out of the truck. Everything looked okay from the outside. This place used to be called Bloodgood Row during the turn of the last century, but that wasn’t a name I planned to keep. During its lifetime it had been partially burned in a fire and survived two major hurricanes, only to finally be left abandoned for decades before I got hold of it. A reasonable man would have torn it down and built something new, but I wanted to save the place. I loved the idea of keeping a bit of Mobile history intact, and I was counting on clients who felt the same way.
Yes, I could imagine it now. A coffee shop at the corner, and the second building would house four swanky apartments; the building on the end was up for grabs. Maybe a restaurant or an office space. I’d already begun the networking required to get eyes on the apartments, and I was confident I could lease those out fairly quickly. The coffee shop idea was iffy but completely doable. Just needed some investors. Sure, this whole thing was a risk, but I was confident this would work in my favor. At least that’s what I’d told Jennifer.
Damn. Jennifer is going to kill me. There goes our nest egg.
Now, with Philip Lambert’s stunt, I wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t looking too good for me now. I needed these buildings finished and ready to show potential clients. By next month. At this rate, it would be well into the summer before I saw a profit. Yep, Jennifer is going to kill me. Death by angry blonde. Not exactly the way I wanted to go.
The sun was going down, but I was only making a walk-through with my camera to record how everything looked, in case I ended up in court. And if anything was missing, there would be hell to pay. I unlocked the door and began snapping photos.
Hmm…at least this space is almost complete. The hardwood floors were perfect, the windows clean and new. The drop tin panel ceiling gave this place a retro, historic feeling. If I remembered correctly, this used to be a medical clinic at the turn of the twentieth century. I didn’t even want to think about what went on here back then. Get it together, Mark. You’re starting to sound like one of Phil’s guys. Except for the unusual chill in the air, this was a nice space. Nothing evil lurking here. No, it felt more like Starbucks. Hopefully. What would it cost to buy franchise rights? Crap. The light fixtures weren’t installed yet. I shrugged as I took pictures of the still-boxed items. I gave the downstairs one more look, but everything else appeared fine.
Snap, snap. I took a few more pictures and walked up the open staircase. There were no surprises on the top floor, thankfully, but I was disappointed to see stacks of flooring bundles lying untouched. Shouldn’t those guys have wrapped this up? I checked the packaging and found everything in order. I took plenty of pictures and stepped back to examine the Sheetrock. Yep, it was as smooth as butter. I couldn’t find fault with the work they’d actually done.
What was it going to take to get these guys to finish the job? Did I really want to go through the whole hiring process again? I walked from room to room; I was happy with most of what I saw, and it didn’t app
ear that any equipment was missing. The scaffolding I paid for and the other supplies were right where I’d left them. They accomplished quite a bit this week, but not enough. I hadn’t seen any ghosts. Just for the hell of it, I called out, “Hello? Anyone up here?” At least I could tell Phil I had a look-see. I’d barely begun my stroll through the upstairs rooms when I heard a shuffling sound followed by a dull thud. Was somebody working up here? ’Bout damn time! I thought with a grin. I walked to the next room, but there was no one there. Nothing but a few paint cans. Sunlight shone through the new windows, catching Sheetrock dust that someone had clearly just disturbed.
“Hey! Phil?” Another quick shuffling, this time from down the hall, and then nothing.
My skin suddenly felt wet, and I realized I’d broken out in a cold sweat. What was that sound? It sounded like plaster falling, like the old-fashioned kind we removed when we began this remodeling process. Or like someone threw a clod of dirt on the floor. And then another.
“Hey! Who’s up here?” I waited but didn’t hear anything else.
I walked back out into the hallway, ready to head back downstairs and sure I’d find someone, but I was alone. Completely alone…and that disturbed me. I shook my head. Too much ghost talk. Phil’s going to have me seeing ghosts if I’m not careful. Get it together, dude. I took a few more pictures and nearly fell over. At the end of the hall, or where there should have been an end of the hallway, there was a door. Now why the hell is that there? I snapped a photo angrily and stomped that way.
“What the heck?” I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. No doubt it was my wife wondering where I was. I already knew about my surprise party; I had one every year, and she apparently wasn’t going to let me off the hook this year. I’d go and pretend to be surprised just to make her happy. Since this was my fortieth, I’d just as soon skip it, but no such luck. And it was just my luck that all this happened today when I needed to be heading to the restaurant. I’d call her back in a minute when I discovered how on God’s green earth this door got here. Everything had looked right when I was here just last week. Now I had an antique wooden door where there should have been a wall.
Ghosted on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 1) Page 24
