by Nathan Roden
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Freebies
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
More from Nathan
About the Author
Sneak Peek at Wylie Westerhouse Book 3
Wylie Westerhouse
The Dark Stage
By Nathan Roden
Wylie Westerhouse
The Dark Stage
Copyright © 2016 by Nathan Roden
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
www.nathanroden.com
Get both of these stories from the World of
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One
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
“They’re alive, Holly.”
The words echoed off of the stone walls and faded into silence. I crossed the floor and took Holly McFadden’s hand. She swayed a little and her eyes crossed as she realized what had happened over the last few minutes. There was evidence that her parents, presumed lost at sea for over six months, did not die in a boating mishap after all. The ghost of Seth Larrimore, Holly’s uncle, delivered the message that Oliver and Gwendoline McFadden were not on the “other side”.
In other words, Holly’s parents were not dead.
Quentin Lynchburg and I made eye contact. Quentin also goes by the nickname “Q”.
Holly dropped my hand and stepped behind the computer monitor to read the words for herself.
Her eyes still on the screen, she whispered,
“I have to go, Mr. Lynchburg.”
“Of course, Holly,” Q said. “And maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Holly said.
“Well,” Q said. He glanced at me and I saw him struggle for the right words. “What we need is the right kind of help and more boots on the ground.”
Q sat at his desk and began striking keys. “I’ll make the travel arrangements, and we’ll be off.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Holly said.
“The three of us,” Q said. “You, me, and Wylie. I’ll call Brian McAllen and find out if he’s familiar with any mercenary types.”
“Mercenaries?” Holly said. “Are we to be starting a war?”
Q rubbed his chin.
“That’s the wrong word I guess,” he said. “For now. I guess I meant…private detectives. Investigators.”
“Investigators? What for?” Holly asked. “There are loads of policemen in Scotland, Mr. Lynchburg. And what do we do about the castle in the meantime? Just key the locks and leave it?”
Quentin hadn’t thought about this yet.
“She’s right, Q,” I said. “We have sold-out tours for the next six weeks.”
Q squeezed his eyes shut.
“That’s right,” he said. “We’re in no position to infuriate the City or the Chamber of Commerce at this point. This could turn out to be a black eye for Branson—the castle is being advertised nation-wide. It will be weeks before the proposal for our building variance is even drawn up—and even longer to take a vote on it.”
“Maybe Elvis Rushmore could—,” I said.
“There’s no time to teach anyone to run a proper Castle tour,” Holly shook her head. “It would be better to shut it down than to do a half-baked job of it. The people won’t stand for it, believe me.”
“I could stay,” I said.
Holly and Quentin looked at me.
“I couldn’t ask you to—” Quentin said.
“No, you didn’t ask me, Q,” I said. “I mean, sure, I want to go, but it’s not like I would be much help. I am capable of running the tours, and I can start training some more people at the same time. I also have Toby to think about, and Duncan—who now has a girlfriend, and now the ghosts have become more solid—and we have no idea why. My God, the more I talk, the crazier I sound.”
Quentin stared into space, and then he sighed.
“I believe that’s the best that we can do right now, Wylie,” he said. “I’ll talk to Elvis and we’ll get some people over here as soon as possible. Call me just as soon as you feel comfortable with turning the operation over to Elvis, and then you can join us.”
“How long do you plan to be gone, Mr. Lynchburg?” Holly asked.
“At this point we have no idea of the number of resources that local law enforcement will apply,” Q said, “Your parents have been presumed dead for months, and the police have no reason to suspect foul play.”
“Foul play?” Holly said. “Who said anything about foul play?”
Quentin exhaled.
“Don’t get all worked up now, Holly. I’m just speculating—trying to consider all possibilities—”
“You’re talking like a politician now, Mr. Lynchburg,” Holly said. “What makes you think there’s been foul play?”
“It’s possible that your parents were kidnapped, Holly,” Q said.
“Kidnapped?” Holly squealed. “Why would—how could you even think that? They didn’t have any money! They don’t even know anybody who has money! They had no other family. They owned an old used boat and an old run-down castle!”
“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard of,” Holly said, shaking her head. “That’s not what happens when someone is kidnapped! That’s the kind of thing done by degenerate criminal types, and they make demands for money straight away! We’ve heard no such thing.”
“You’re right about that, Holly,” Q said. “But there’s something that you aren’t thinking about.”
“What are you talking about, now?” Holly said. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her forehead.
“Their daughter sees dead people,” Q said.
Duncan and I crept up on Nate and Tooie as they were waking up. Or coming to—whatever it is you do after you faint. Duncan moved around behind me, which was a good idea. At least, no one screamed or fainted again. Nate and Tooie were plenty freaked-out, though. They shivered and pressed into each other and up against the wall.
“Guys,” I said,
“You are not in any danger. Yes, there are…several ghosts here, but they’ve always been there. We just couldn't see them. They can’t hurt you. Most of them are actually pretty nice.”
“Nice?” Tooie screeched through chattering teeth. “Nice? Ghosts are not nice, Wylie! Are you crazy?”
“That is so unfair, Ma’am,” Duncan said. He stepped out from behind me.
“You can call me shallow, or vacant—or say that I’m transparent or void, or lacking in opacity, but I am most certainly not… un-nice.”
“That’s far too many negatives, Mr. Straight A’s,” I said.
“Look at me, Wyles,” Duncan shrugged. “I am a negative.”
Nate laughed. Tooie elbowed Nate in his side.
“I’m sorry, Honey,” Nate said, “Duncan always cracked me up. That was funny, right there.”
Tooie pushed away from Nate and got to her feet. She stood with her feet spread apart and her arms crossed.
“You need to explain yourself, Wylie,” she said, “I thought Nate was your best friend in the world. Have you been keeping this a secret from him for all these years?”
“Hey, I had nothing to do with this,” I said. “Holly is the one that can see them.”
“Holly’s not…here,” Nate said. He looked around the room.
“Duncan? Where did Duncan go? What’s happening, Wylie?” Nate asked.
I stepped toward Nate and raised my hand to touch his arm or shoulder, but he backed away from me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It works by physical contact. The more I’m around Holly, and the more physical contact, the longer it lasts.”
“Holly isn’t even in here,” Tooie said.
“I’ve been around her a lot,” I said. “Especially since she found Duncan at my house. She said he was some kind of ‘sign’. I guess he was because now we can actually touch them.”
“Touch them?” Tooie squealed.
She grabbed Nate by the arm and tried to pull him away from me.
“Get away from him, Nate, before he infects us!” Tooie said.
“He’s not infected,” Nate chuckled, but he looked at me like he wasn’t so sure.
“Then what would you call it?” Tooie asked. “Holly sees ghosts, and now Wylie sees them too. That is text-book infection! Get me out of here right now, or I’m walking out. I mean it!”
“Look,” I said. “The only reason this ghost-sight is stuck to me is my contact with Holly. It works like a rechargeable battery. Holly said that was how it worked with her uncle. After the first time that I saw Duncan, I lost sight of him after Holly had been gone for a few hours.”
Nate took a step toward me. Tooie grabbed his arm with both hands and tried to hold him back.
“What…? Nate! What are you doing?” Tooie screamed. “Are you as insane as he is?”
I held out my hand. Nate raised his. Tooie let go of Nate’s arm and backed against the wall.
“I mean it, Nate. I am not okay with this!” Tooie said.
“Listen to me, Too—Aimee,” Nate said.
Tooie blinked hard. I’m guessing she’s not used to Nate using her real name.
“Wylie and Duncan Westerhouse were my best friends in the whole world,” Nate said. “We built forts, we shared crazy plans, and we were the only kids our age whose parents let them stay out after dark. We shared dreams, Babe. We talked for hours about starting a rock band, even before any of us had an instrument. But then Duncan got sick. We watched him get worse—and then we watched him die.”
Nate was tearing up a little. So was I.
“I don’t understand what’s going on any more than you do, Tooie,” Nate said. “But there has to be a reason that Duncan is here. I love you, Aimee Lee Reznik, but I am not turning my back on my friends.”
Nate raised his arm. We grasped each other’s forearms, Viking-style, and began our handshake ritual. Nate looked over my left shoulder.
I turned and saw a teary-eyed Duncan lift his hand. Nate and Duncan grasped forearms. They went through the handshake sequence while they fought back tears.
The handshake ended in an embrace that was beautiful, and yet too painful to watch. I looked away.
Tooie was gone.
I sat next to Holly in the back seat of the limousine on the way to the airport. Quentin rode up front with the driver to give us more privacy.
I have only known Holly for a few months. She shared her secret with me when she discovered that my dead brother Duncan was camping out on my sofa. I’ve since met several other ghosts; most notably, the ones who “accidentally” accompanied the Castle McIntyre on its voyage from Scotland to Branson, Missouri.
I have loved Holly McFadden since the day I first saw her at the Branson airport. She didn’t feel the same about me—not at first, anyway. Not even close. But something has changed in our relationship over the past weeks. During that time, a group of local ghosts threatened the continued existence of the Castle McIntyre in Branson. Holly and I are now much closer.
My ten-year-dead brother has been reunited with a sixteenth-century Scottish girl. This same girl visited him when he was dying.
After the threat to the castle was resolved, the McIntyre ladies pushed Holly McFadden across the room. They knocked Holly and me to the floor. That was followed by a very, very, long and wonderful kiss.
A kiss that was not repeated.
Until last night.
Holly and I were to be separated indefinitely. This fact made both of us nervous for multiple reasons, but it could not be helped. I wanted to be with her. I also wanted to continue being able to see my brother.
Holly and I spent last night together. C’mon. Not like that. We did kiss some, I’m not gonna lie. But if I even thought of it going any further, it was soon obvious that our relationship was never going to be normal.
When Holly McFadden started to cry there was still an intimacy, but not in a romantic sense. For a second or two, it was hard not to take that personally.
I had my feelings hurt for about a half-second before it all made sense to me.
Holly McFadden doesn’t remember having a normal life. She has been able to see and hear and talk to ghosts since she was six years old. This terrified her parents, especially her mother. There was an accident in a lake when Holly was six—when she fell out of a boat. Her parents jumped in to save her and were instantly able to see dozens of horrifying spirits beneath the water. Holly’s father was able to deal with the experience. Holly’s mother was not.
Holly’s mother never touched her again.
Holly’s parents disappeared six months ago, thought to have drowned in a boating accident. But just two days ago, their boat was recovered in London. It had not been destroyed at sea, as the authorities first believed. It was stolen from the facility where Oliver McFadden had it stored.
Holly’s uncle, Seth Larrimore, had been Holly’s teacher, friend, and lifelong companion. He died in Holly’s arms just a few months ago.
Now, if you feel guilty about what you thought I meant by Holly and me spending the night together—I’ll let that slide. My life used to be a little closer to normal than it is now.
My life will never be normal again.
Holly and I sat close to each other in the limo with our arms entangled. We each wore shorts and short-sleeve shirts. We were both a little sweaty, but—oh, well. One of the hazards of the “ghost-gift”.
When we arrived at the airport, I went to help with the luggage, but Quentin wouldn’t have it. He told us to go ahead to the boarding gate. Holly and I walked inside with our arms around each other. I used to shake my head at people who showed too much affection in public. Ever since that day, I look at those people and wonder if they might actually be passing the ability to see the dead.
When boarding started, Holly and I kissed, and then we hugged.
I hugged Quentin and then we shook hands. He looked around.
“Wow,” he whispered. “There are a bunch of them in here.”
; “Yeah,” I said. “Why do you think that is?”
He laughed and pointed toward the boarding gate. Several transparent ghost-passengers floated past the gate without even slowing down.
“I guess everyone likes to travel,” Q said. “And I bet they ignore the ‘water-landing’ instructions just like everybody else.”
Two
Sebastian Wellmore
Wellmore Village, Scotland
Maggie Wellmore shook her head at the sign that read “Do NOT enter the Dungeon!” She opened the door to the basement carrying a floor lamp under one arm. She took one step before she threw the lamp and screamed. She waved her arms violently at the bloody skeleton that had dropped directly in front of her. Her backward fall was slowed by the tiny wire that entangled her arms.
“Sebastian!” she screamed.
Sebastian Wellmore strolled nonchalantly around the corner. He stopped and looked down at his mother.
“Mother, while I do understand that many of our guests may not be able to read or comprehend, I DO expect a little better from you. I see you’ve met Nigel.”
“Nigel,” Maggie said. “You’ve given your juvenile, fake skeleton friend a name. How quaint. Get this monstrosity off of me this instant!”
“Very well, Mother,” Sebastian said. “You ignore my sign and damage my prop, yet somehow this is my fault. When was the last time you did anything to increase the appeal of this dreary place?”
“Do you mean things like replacing lamps that no longer work, or having the entrance landscaped to properly welcome our guests?” Maggie asked. “We had a long history of tourism before you and your fancy suits and your shiny shoes and parlor tricks, young man! Just because I don’t dress up like you do—like I’m expecting the Queen.”
