by Kali Wilows
“That’s good; I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” With a seductive wink, he waved at the street before them.
“After you, ladies.”
They walked alongside him until they caught up to the rest. A slow, sultry breeze blew a sweeping whiff of woody musk cologne past her nose. For the first time on this trip, Vannah was speechless.
Stopping beside her, he continued his spiel. “Savannah is recognized by many as America’s most haunted city.”
Although she would never admit it out loud, Vannah found the long, winding cobblestone streets filled with a fascinating sense of the past. The simple elegance of an earlier era, augmented by the lingering smell of wet pavement from the drizzling rain earlier that evening, made her feel as if she’d stepped back in time.
Antebellum homes showcased picket fences, massive trees, and lavish, colorful gardens. They sauntered past historic plantation estates while savoring the sultry night air. Strolling through the squares of the picturesque town, she admired the Spanish moss-draped, majestic oaks that lined the streets. Everything seemed so whimsical, in a dark and dreary kind of way.
When the divine aroma of roses cascaded around her, Vannah inspected the foliage she was passing, and saw no blossoms of any kind. The mossy oaks at her side were accompanied only by green shrubs. She turned around at a tap on her shoulder, but saw no one behind her. Stacia was within arm’s reach, however.
“Stop it. That’s not funny.”
“What?” Stacia stared ahead, focused on their guide.
Vannah took a few more steps and a muffled sound vibrated in her ear. Catching her breath, she shot a glare at Stacia. “I mean it. Knock it off.”
“What?”
“Yeah, right. Don’t do it again.”
“Do what?” Stacia hissed with annoyance.
“Oh, never mind.”
Slight shivers rolled over Vannah’s heated skin and a soft rush of bliss rippled through her inner core for a brief moment. Her pelvic muscles squeezed and released as though she had an involuntary Kegel movement. Vannah shuddered from the sensation then continued without giving it another thought.
In the shadowy nighttime, the adventure of following Cameron and the posse down the old, haunted footpaths, listening to the city’s legends, drew her attention away from the gadgets in her bag. She’d become distracted from her agenda of disproving the spectral hysteria.
“…into the ’tween places that mark the stealthy passageways from the known, into the unknown.”
The guide’s captivating voice and storytelling brought about a curiosity she hadn’t prepared for. His tales were believable; she could feel the history, the suggested looming presence of times past, and her openness to it was unacceptable. No, she wouldn’t lose sight of her reason for being there. Vannah eased her fingers through the interior of her bag, noting that Stacia was preoccupied staring at Adonis who stood at an entrance way of a graveyard, hypnotizing his groupies.
The tour had stopped for another haunting legend…yada yada yada.
“This centuries-old cemetery is believed to be frequented by the spirits who, the Geechee-Gullah say, stand at their graves in a midnight ritual. The Yamacraw Indian, Irish, and Geechee-Gullah folk believe the unseen can tap us on our shoulders and whisper in our ears.”
Sure they can. Vannah backed away with her camcorder in hand and snuck through the side gate of the graveyard. Staying close enough that she could still hear him ramble on about dusky tunnels and eerie tombstones, Vannah turned on her infrared camera and began scanning the ancient gravestones. A distant mausoleum caught her attention. Although nothing showed on the device, she was certain she caught the movement of something in front of that building.
Cautious of being seen, she held her camera ready and inched along the fence toward the faded monument. The small, stone, Parthenon-style structure was swathed with shaggy, green moss and woody vines. Vannah’s heart skipped a beat when she observed the door was ajar.
“Hey Cameron?” A whisper in his ear distracted him from his cemetery tale.
“Okay, who are you? I’m kinda in the middle of something here.” Cameron mentally scolded his uninvited ghostly guest as the tourists began to disperse, snapping photos of the statues along the front of the antiquated burial grounds.
“It would appear you have a stray.” The voice was male, but not identifying himself for the moment.
The picturesque blonde caught his eye as she ducked behind the stone wall off the side gate to the graveyard.
“What do you suppose she’s up to in there?”
“Go find her before she gets into trouble.” The voice faded as Cameron’s brother approached.
“Avid ghost hunter?” Samuel sighed.
“Maybe, but she’s gonna keep me busy tonight, I suspect. Tag team?”
“Sure, I got this story covered.” Samuel moved to the head of the tour group as Cameron slipped away to track down his renegade spectator.
A beautiful woman in a dark graveyard; this could end badly. A few flashes of what was to come filled his head, a little goad from his haunted helper.
With slow, deliberate steps, Vannah climbed the soil-laden stairs to the doorway, ready to peer inside. The musty odor of plant decay filled the air. A vibration erupted in her hand and her heart pummeled against the confines of her chest. The camera screen went blank.
“Dead battery? But I just charged it. Dammit.”
The stagnant, humid air grew frosty. Goose bumps surfaced all over her bare legs and arms. Even her nipples hardened to scrape against her sheer camisole with the chilly air. She gripped her camera and scanned around her, amazed to see her exhaled breath materialize into a cloudy, gaseous state.
A cold front? She struggled to convince herself.
The overpowering fragrance of roses caressed her nose again. A quick glance showed still no flowers nearby, and then a soft brushing against her hardened nipples startled her. Wintry pressure gripped her erect peaks. Her eyes closed and her head swayed back as a delectable force began to condense around her breasts. Mesmerized by the exquisite sensation, her arms went limp with the camera still in her grip, allowing the cold to consume her flesh.
A gentle icy grazing ran across her lips, down the length of her throat, and along the lace of her blouse. Chilling tingles surfaced over her scalp and spread down the back of her neck, rolling over her entire body. A buzzing sensation began on her inner thighs and climbed upward. Her legs began to part as frosty pinching aroused her and her pelvic muscles contracted. Her body pushed down, welcoming the sensation, and a low building groan erupted from her throat.
The sound of her own voice awakened her from the trance, and the pounding of her heart returned her to acute awareness. Vannah shoved the camera in her purse and pulled out the EMF detector. Her teeth chattered as she turned it on, holding it in front of her like a loaded gun. The ghost hunter’s fear soared as the needle darted back and forth for a few seconds then stopped dead.
What the hell is going on? A shadow flashed across the stone threshold, startling her. Her heart raced and she stumbled down the steps, her eyes flitting frantically back and forth, scanning for movement but finding none. Her clumsy feet tangling, she stumbled over a flat stone and toppled backward.
A sudden heat surrounded her and she paused in mid-fall, suspended over the dark pit of an open grave. Breathless and terror-stricken, it took her a moment to realize the warmth was strong arms wrapped around her. Back on her feet, she spun around to find Cameron, the tour guide, watching her with an amused expression.
“Are you okay?” He gripped her shaking shoulders.
“I’m fine, I just saw—I tripped.” Vannah tried to catch her breath, her mind racing with madness.
“You should watch where you’re stepping in a cemetery.”
“I didn’t expect—I didn’t realize they still buried people here.”
“You know, it’s frowned upon to be raiding graves at night around these parts.”
> “I wasn’t raiding anything.” She jerked out of his hold and grabbed her bag from the ground, jamming her detector back inside. I’m glad none of my equipment ended up in that grave. She yanked her twisted camisole top and shorts back into place.
“What did you see?” His penetrating gaze sent a current through her chest.
“Nothing, I didn’t—there’s nothing to see, let’s go.”
“Whoa, whoa, hang on. Something scared you. Tell me what you saw.”
If she wasn’t throbbing with terror right now, she might have actually swooned under his gaze. “Are you deaf? I said I didn’t see anything.” She turned to walk away.
“Who is Mark?”
With a white hot jolt, her stomach bottomed out and her feet froze to the ground.
“Who is Mark and why can’t he breathe? His chest burns.” Cameron stepped in front of her, blocking her retreat and rubbing his torso with a contorted expression.
“Where did you—Stacia. I’m gonna kill her.” She gulped a mouthful of stagnant, humid air.
“He’s here, you know. That’s what you saw.” He spoke with a tender voice.
“This is a horrible joke. Just stop it.” She pushed past him then stormed off to the group.
“Are you okay? What the hell were you doing?” Her sister’s tone held concern, but she wasn’t up to explaining.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
“What did I do?” Stacia grabbed her arm.
“I said, later.”
“What the hell were you doing in the graveyard anyway?”
“Drop it.” She yanked out of Stacia’s grip and spun away, too upset to do anything else.
Cameron walked up to Vannah and paused with what seemed an apologetic expression before continuing over to the chatting spectators and resumed his narration to the group.
“Many people bought estates here, a while back, thinking they would be the ideal summer homes, but most packed up and left after hearing the laughter of children in empty hallways, feeling invisible fingers caress their faces, and seeing pale girls who seem to float through their gardens. This street became known for its abandoned houses until the city stepped in and preserved them.”
He carried on with this farce of a Ghost Walk without so much as glancing her way again. He talked about folklore and legends like he believed in his own stories of the dead.
“Why is old Savannah's atmosphere so charged with paranormal energy? Why does it seem to draw its spirits back home?” The enthralled onlookers were a bunch of mindless idiots listening to the rants of an egomaniac.
The eerie aura of the darkened streets was creeping her out. His stories were just making it worse. What had she seen? What happened to her body in there? Residual throbs reverberated deep in her core.
“One famous citizen was revered for his lavish parties….”
Are you kidding me? This; lonely souls wandering eternally, searching for unrequited love, bogus was getting thin, and so was her patience.
“According to folklore, Room 204 in that hotel over there is haunted. A man’s ghost is often sighted walking the halls and standing at the end of the bed, even running bath water and flushing toilets.”
She’d promised Stacia not to draw any more attention to herself tonight—the lingering shivers of fright were a reminder to obey, but she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.
“…creeping in eerie courtyards, waiting for help to cross over….”
“Vannah?”
“I don’t want to hear it, Stacia.”
“No, Vannah, I—”
“Seriously, shut up.”
“I don’t feel good.”
Stacia’s face was flushed. Beads of perspiration covered her forehead and ran down her temples, and the plunging neckline of her summer dress was dark with saturation as if sweltering heat consumed her.
Vannah’s anger evaporated as her sister reached for her arm.
“Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” Stacia cupped her mouth, staggered to the side of the walkway, and retched over the picket fence edging the sidewalk.
“Oh, God, was it the food?” Vannah hovered, holding Stacia’s hair back as she heaved.
Stacia’s convulsing slowed and then stopped. She stepped back and crouched, gasping for air.
“Everything’s getting hazy.” Vannah struggled to steady her, but Cameron scooped her up into his arms, as her body went limp.
“Sorry, folks, a lady in distress. My associate will continue the tour. Samuel, can you please see to our guests?” Without waiting for an answer from the good-looking, fair haired man at the foot of the crowd, he began walking back the way they’d come.
Vannah scrambled after him.
“What are you doing?”
“She needs to lie down. She needs some cool water.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“My place is around the corner.”
“Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?” Vannah choked out the words through her tightened throat. She worked to hold back the tears collecting at the rims of her eyes as she step-hopped, trying to keep up with him.
“She’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”
“But what if it’s food poisoning?” She tugged at his shirt.
Cameron looked at her with sapphire eyes aglow. “It’s not food poisoning. Come on, we need to get her cooled down.” He continued on, focused and unyielding.
***
Vannah sat on the hard limestone floor, watching her sister toss and turn on Cameron’s sofa. Fear raced in her heart, and her own skin was moist from the humid night air.
Cameron carried in a tray and placed it on the wicker table beside them. “Here’s some water, a cold cloth, and a thermometer.”
“Thermometer?”
“She’s burning up, but she’s gonna be fine.” He kneeled beside Vannah and eased the device into Stacia’s mouth.
Vannah watched with her lips pressed tight and panic rushing though her as he retrieved the beeping stick and examined it.
“A hundred and two; we have to get her cooled down.” He held up the small towel. “Sponge her with this while I run a bath.”
“Bath?”
As he passed her the damp cloth, warmth from his fingers against her palm jarred her heart and sent a rabble of butterflies dancing in her stomach.
***
An hour later, Stacia was sitting up on the white wicker couch, puffy red cushions under and tucked all around her. She held a glass of lemonade and Vannah’s hand.
“You had me scared.”
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” She put the glass to her pale lips and sipped.
“So, how’s our patient?” Cameron entered carrying a plate of crackers and cheese.
“Better, thank you, I’m sorry I ruined the tour.”
“Nonsense, that was almost the last place. Besides, Samuel was there to finish up. Most of them were locals and have seen everything already anyway.”
“Samuel?”
“Yeah, he’s my older brother and business partner in the Haunted Ghost Walk. We take turns leading the tours and he does most of the business stuff. He calls me ‘the talent.’” Cameron smirked a little.
“Thank you for helping my sister.”
“It was my pleasure, madam.” With smiling eyes, he gave a little nod and winked.
Vannah cringed—there was that word again.
“So, Stacia, how long have you known?” He placed his palm over her flat belly.
Stacia gasped. “How did you know?”
He smiled and pulled his hand away.
“Know what?” Vannah demanded.
“About a week. I haven’t told anyone except my husband, not even—” She met Vannah’s probing stare and shrugged.
“Know what?”
Stacia smiled as she rubbed her palms over her tummy. “Honey, how do you feel about being called Aunt Vannah?”
“What? I thought you couldn’t after the last….”
“I know. It’s
a miracle.” Stacia was glowing. She stared at Cameron. “How did you know?”
“I—uh—heard it from uh—a friend.” He glanced over his shoulder at the empty, arched doorway.
Stacia’s voice lowered. “Who?”
“Well—I guess there’s no avoiding it.” He sighed, “Mark.”
“What?” Vannah jumped up. “What the hell are you two doing?”
“I get that response from a lot of people,” he lamented with a grimace.
“What do you mean?” Stacia’s calm voice infuriated Vannah.
“I’m a psychic, or clairvoyant, medium, whatever you want to call it. I can see and hear the dead.” Moving to the maroon armchair by the window, he sat on the edge of the seat facing Vannah. He kept his eyes fixed on hers.
“Psychic?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, I get that response a lot, too.”
“Mark is here?” Stacia twisted her head to look in the darkened corners of the room.
“What the hell? Is this some perverse way to get me to move on? It’s sick. Stop it, right now!” Vannah backed toward the door.
“Savannah Grace Teale.” Cameron stood up and moved toward her.
“What did you call me?” She froze. The fragrance of roses returned, along with the shivers down her scalp and spine.
“I know you don’t want to believe me, but I’m asking, no, I’m begging you, please just sit down and hear me out.”
“Vannah, no one ever called you by your full name, except….” Stacia’s voice trembled.
“Please. Just five minutes and I swear to God, I’ll never bother you again.”
Compelled by his pleading voice, Vannah walked over to the wicker couch and sat beside Stacia.
“Thank you.” He took a seat on the brown leather ottoman facing them.
His stare fixed on her, filled with empathy and remorse.
“Vannah, this gift—ability of mine, I’ve had my whole life, and I can’t just turn it off at will. Mark has been communicating with us, non-stop, all night long.”
“Us?” Her anger and confusion were matched now.
