Pause.
Again, Did you write in my notebook?
Pause.
And then...
Yes, me.
Lucy's jaw dropped open. Dale stopped the recorder, rewound it a fraction, and played the section again. There was a voice. Very faint, but unmistakable. It was the small voice of a woman or girl, weak and desperate. It sounded as if it was coming from a long way away, drifting in and out of clarity like a distorted radio signal. There was a pained, breathless tone to it, as if the speaker was expending a lot of energy.
But it was answering his question.
Dale stopped the tape and looked at Lucy, eyebrows raised and mouth open. The colour drained from his face.
Lucy was too shocked to speak. Yes, the experiment had been her idea, but she had never expected results like this! She knew they mustn't get carried away. They had to stay objective, and debunk the obvious first. “Was there anyone else here, Dale? If not in the room then maybe outside in the corridor? Maybe you just got a snatch of a conversation between Isabel and her mother?”
“Do you think I'm that stupid?” Dale scoffed. “I was alone in here. The door was closed, and I didn't see or hear anyone else the whole time I was recording.”
Lucy believed him, knowing he would have much preferred to have made a recording of him asking unanswered questions of an empty room just to prove her wrong. “Then it could be that we have a recording of an intelligent spirit voice. You communicated with the undead, Dale. Congratulations!”
“The undead?” Dale sneered. “Do you have to say that? It's very George A. Romero. Maybe there's more,” he said as he hit PLAY again.
As before, Recorded Dale was asking questions, leaving the obligatory gap before the next one. Except now, each gap wasn't filled with empty static, but with echoes of that same weak, timid voice struggling to be heard above the raging silence. Dale and Lucy huddled closer to the device.
Can you hear me?
Yes...
Who are you?
Liz
What do you want?
Rest.
Hello, is anybody there?
Leave us.
Lucy was numb. Dale was having a conversation with... a ghost. And it was all on tape. “Play that bit again,” she asked. When he did, the voice was still there. On second and third listen, the words were even more plainly audible. “Oh my God, Dale. She says her name is Liz...”
“I know,” Dale said. “As in Elizabeth. Maid of Sker.”
Lucy shook her head, “No, it can't be.” This was all getting too much.
“Look, you wanted to try and capture spirit voices, right? Well, you got your wish. You know, the funny thing is, all this stuff happened between the ninth and twelfth minutes of recording.”
“So?”
“So that was exactly when the batteries in my Dictaphone died. I had to replace them. Twice. I remember.”
Lucy thought about this for a moment then said,“Some people believe spirits need to draw energy from something in order to manifest.”
“Well, nicking the power out of all my batteries is a bit of a liberty.”
“Never mind, I'll buy you some shiny new ones, okay?” Lucy cooed. “I'm more concerned about the last thing she said.”
“The 'leave us' part?”
“Yes. Didn't that bother you at all? She doesn't want us here, Dale. She basically told us to get out.”
Dale thought for a moment, then said, “Yeah, it bothers me. But no more than the fact that we just made contact with a fucking ghost. I'm still trying to get my head around that part. What she was talking about is kinda irrelevant. There's still a few minutes of tape to listen to. You wanna go for it?”
“Sure, why not?”
Recorded Dale asked more questions, but this time there were no answers. Once, in the hollow silence, an animalistic growl could be heard. Dale tried to make light of it. “And what the fuck is that? The ghost of a guy snoring?” but the sound sent shivers down Lucy's spine and she could tell that despite his joviality, it had a similar effect on Dale. They rewound that part and played it back several times.
After that, it was just Dale. As the recording wore on, Lucy could tell by the tone of his voice that he was beginning to lose interest, as if knowing subconsciously the climax of the operation had already been reached. When they had finally listened to everything, they both sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Dale said, “So what do you think?”
It took a moment for Lucy to differentiate Real Dale from Recorded Dale. Was that question directed at her? She turned to see he was looking at her expectantly. Yes, he was talking to her. “What do I think?” she said. “I think we have one hell of a story, Dale.”
A short time later, as Lucy was going back over the Dictaphone recording for anything they may have missed, there was a sharp rap at the door. It opened to reveal Machen's reddened grinning face. For one awful second, he looked like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
Here's Johnny!
Judging by his slightly unsteady demeanour, the landlord must have sneaked another couple of drinks in since the last time they saw him. “What are you kids doing?” he asked. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything, like.”
“No, not at all,” said Lucy, picking up on the implication and ruthlessly putting it to rest.
“Good, good. I just wanted to come and tell you that dinner will be ready for six. Would you prefer to choose something from the set menu, or would you like to try Mrs Watkins' special? I think that'd be the way to go, myself. The woman's been cooking half the day. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it smells bloody lovely. Pardon my French, like.”
“I guess we'll take your recommendation and order the special, then. Okay with you, Lucy?”
“Fine.”
“Okey dokey. Two specials.” The landlord hovered uncertainly in the doorway, his eyes flitting around the room. “Anything else I can do you for before I go?”
“No, everything's fine, thanks.” Dale replied, a little too abruptly. “I guess Madam here will be wanting to make herself beautiful for dinner, so we'll see you a bit later.”
“Fair enough.” The door began to close slowly.
“Oh, Machen? Wait a moment.”
“Yes? What is it?” The door swung open again with vigour.
“We found an old key and just wanted to return it.” Dale hopped out of his chair at the desk and grabbed the key from the bedside table.
“Found an old key, you say?”
“Yep, under the radiator.” Dale said, suddenly looking like a child about to receive praise. Then he caught Lucy's eye. She was giving him her best what the fuck have you done look, but it was too late. He handed the rusted lump of metal over to the landlord, who raised an eyebrow at it.
“Hmm, I don't recognize it. Where did you get it?”
“I just said, under the radiator?”
“Oh yeah, you did. Get forgetful, I do. Must be old age creeping up on me. It does that, you know. Creeps up.”
“No worries.”
“Nah, I don't know this key at all,” the landlord continued. “But I'll keep it in a safe place and maybe one day its lock will turn up. Its other half, you could say. Wouldn't that be nice? Send this lil' fella 'ome, like. Reunite two pieces in this world that were truly made for each other. Things have a funny way of doing that, you know.”
“Doing what? Fitting together?”
“Sometimes. And you know, just turning up in the right place, like. Well then, anyway, cheers. Bye now. Bye.” As he left the room, Machen put the key in his inside jacket pocket and closed the door behind him.
Lucy waited until the sound of footsteps retreated down the corridor before landing a hefty right hook on Dale's upper arm. “Ow! What did you do that for?”
“You gave him the key, you prick! That was... evidence. A clue, whatever.”
“Evidence of what? That there's a lock somewhere that nobody can open because we have the key?”
“Evide
nce of something. It's all connected. I just know it is.”
“The key didn't belong to us, so we had no right to keep it.”
“It's nice to know you are a good person, Dale. But that key meant something. Didn't you see the look on Machen's face? He was stuttering all over the place.”
“That's because the poor bloke has a speech impediment or something, and he's probably a bit drunk.”
“But don't you think it's getting worse? What if it isn't a speech impediment at all, but a symptom of something else?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know, I'm not an expert. It wasn't just the way he spoke, it was the way he was acting. We usually can't shut him up, but as soon as you gave him that key he couldn't wait to get outta here. And didn't it cross your mind that he might wonder what you were doing snooping around under radiators in the first place? It's not exactly normal behaviour, Dale.”
“Hang on, what constitutes normal behaviour, anyway? In a haunted hotel, of all places? With a landlord straight out of The Overview and ghosts leaving us messages? And I'll tell you what else, from what Old Rolly was telling me last night, its hardly surprising the place is haunted.”
“How? Have you been holding out on me?”
“No. I just didn't get a chance to tell you everything.”
“So tell me now, damn it!”
Dale quickly brought Lucy up to speed about the Mumbles lifeboat disaster, and she reciprocated by telling him about the argument she overheard between Machen and Rolly on her way back from her walk.
“Kicked a hornet's nest, huh?” Dale said when she finished. “What does that even mean?”
“Who knows. But it doesn't sound good. If this keeps up, before long we'll have enough material for a whole book never mind one measly article.”
“No shit.”
“I don't know what it is exactly, but doesn't the place make you feel a little strange? It has a really weird vibe.”
“Don't let your imagination run away with you. I get a weird vibe wherever I am.”
“Let my imagination run away with me? Are you mad? We have an actual recording, and a written message from the other side.”
“The other side?” Dale guffawed. “You make it sound so melodramatic.”
“Well, how do you want it to sound? And there's something else.”
“Oh wonderful. Well, I'm all ears.”
“In the bathroom, I didn't scream because I saw a spider. I screamed because I was looking at my face in the mirror and... it changed, Dale! The mirror clouded over, then when it cleared it wasn't me any more. I was looking at the reflection of somebody else.”
“Who?”
“How should I know? A young woman, long brown hair.”
“The same woman you saw in the window?”
Lucy's jaw dropped open. “It was hard to tell. But now you mention it, yes. It must be the same person.”
“And the same voice on the recording?”
“More than likely.”
“It's still possible that the old boys downstairs are orchestrating this whole thing to drum up business, you know.”
“And how the hell are they going to change my reflection in the mirror?”
“Stage magicians have been using mirrors in their performances for centuries. The eye is easily deceived. And with modern technology, it wouldn't be too difficult to rig a mirror.”
Lucy was adamant. “It wasn't a trick, Dale. My face changed!” She took a deep breath. “And from what I could gather from the argument I heard, Old Rolly doesn't want lots of people coming here for some reason. That kind of blows your theory about them doing it all for publicity out of the water.”
“Unless that's just what he wanted you to think. Reverse psychology.”
“But he didn't know I was listening.”
“Are you sure?”
“Damn Dale, how paranoid are you? Have you been smoking weed all afternoon or something?”
“Absolutely not!” Dale said, offended. “I forgot to bring any.”
“Well, I'm going to confront our dear landlord about the key and a few other things at dinner.”
“Are you sure that's wise?”
“What's he going to do? Throw us out?”
“Throw a wobbly, more like.”
“Let him. Things have to be said.”
“Great,” Dale said sarcastically. “I'm looking forward to it already.”
Chapter 23:
Light's Out
Machen and Rolly were right about the impending storm. The light gradually faded until by five o'clock, there were so many grey clouds obscuring the sun that outside was more like a winter's evening than a spring afternoon. The wind became an incessant low moan, rising and falling in pitch and intensity. Soon afterwards the rain hit, pelting the window with water droplets the size of small coins. “Wow! Look at that!” Lucy exclaimed, leaping off the bed where she had been engrossed in one of her magazines and dashing over for a closer look.
“That's the price you pay for living on the beach,” Dale said as he joined her. “It looks nice, but you get all the lousy weather blowing in from the sea.”
“Sunbathing is out, then.” Lucy said whimsically.
“Yep. Sure looks that way.” Dale replied as if sunbathing really had been an option.
“Hey, how would you feel about doing it again before we go down for dinner?”
“Doing what again?”
“The EVP experiment.”
Dale couldn't prevent a small tut escaping his lips. “Why? What's the point?” He asked, a little too defensively. “I did it once, we made contact and got the evidence. What more can we do?”
“You could do an interview. A proper interview. Ask her what it's like... over there.”
“Fuck that, are you crazy? Interview a ghost? She's not on holiday, she's dead!”
“Whatever. Look, you're a professional. Or at least you WANT to be a professional. Look at this as a challenge! You got intelligent responses last time. ”
“Yeah, a couple of times, amongst a shower of shit.”
“Even if it was just one, it would still make everything worthwhile. That's evidence we can document.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Dale sighed. “When do you want to do it?”
“We? The last time you were alone, and you made some kind of connection. We should try to replicate the conditions as best we can.”
“You're going to leave me on my own again?” He looked at Lucy for a sympathetic reaction. Suddenly, her face went momentarily blank. There was no emotion at all. A deep shadow cast by a rolling cloud fell across it, and Dale watched as the blankness was replaced by an expression of anguish. “Lucy?”
She appeared not to hear him. Dale watched, horrified, as her face contorted into a vile sneer. She turned to look at him, and he could see the hate boiling within. “You are an evil man,” she spat.
Dale was shocked. “How come? I said I'd...”
“You can't force me to love another!”
The words were so venomous and so full of anger that Dale took a stuttering step backwards. That word again; evil. It was fast becoming Word of the Day, and that didn't exactly fill him with confidence. He took a few seconds to regroup before he tentatively asked, “Lucy? What are you talking about?”
But already, the moment was gone. The disdain melted away from Lucy's face to be replaced with bewilderment. “What?” she asked.
Dale gripped her by the shoulders, ready to shake her if necessary, “Lucy, what do you mean, I can't force you to love another?”
She looked as confused as he felt. “What are you talking about?”
“That's what you said. Just now.”
“I said nothing of the sort. Unhand me, you ruffian.”
Dale did as he was told, scratching his head in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? This is some kind of wind-up, right?” The most confusing thing of all from Dale's point of view was that he could tell Lucy really had no idea what he
was talking about. This was Adamant Lucy. Adamant Lucy didn't make jokes or mess around. And when she said something was true, you'd better believe it. Why would she lie about something like that, anyway? What could she possibly hope to achieve from play-acting? Then he remembered what she'd said earlier about seeing her face change in the bathroom mirror. And here she was apparently speaking someone else's words.
For a fraction of a second, he wondered whether he had misheard. Maybe he was the one going mad. But no. He had heard the words as plain as day, and no amount of kidology on his part would change the fact. The only explanation was that Lucy had indeed spoken the words, but didn't know she'd done it. And what could that mean? Did she get momentarily possessed? Taken over by a spirit? “How do you feel?” he asked warily, not knowing what else to say.
“Fine. Why? How do I look?”
“Better than fine,” Dale replied with a wink to relieve the tension.
At last, Lucy cracked a smile. “Why thank you, kind sir. But we're still sleeping in twin beds tonight.”
“Wouldn't have it any other way.”
“As long as that's settled. Now, are we gonna get started on experiment numero dos or what?”
“I guess so. But let's do it after dinner, okay? I'm starving. And besides, Mr Machen and company are expecting us.” The truth was, Dale was reluctant to stir things up any more. Not now. Whatever was going on with Lucy was serious. Plus, he didn't want to leave her alone again.
“Okay, fair enough.”
“So, are you ready?”
“Ready.”
“Good. The sooner we have dinner, the sooner I can come back here to put myself in mortal danger while you keep the brood busy downstairs with your delightful post-dinner conversation. And if that doesn't work you could always...”
The sentence was cut short when the room was suddenly plunged into blackness. As one, Dale and Lucy gasped.
Chapter 24:
The Custodian
“So does this happen often?” Lucy asked. “You're obviously well prepared.”
“And lucky for you we were, isn't it?” Machen replied. “I know how disoren... disin... confusing a strange place can be in a power cut. If I hadn't come up to get you with the torch I bet you'd still be up in your room fumbling 'round in the dark. Bloody thing's thirsty on batteries, though. Use loads of 'em, I do. None left now.” As if to prove the point he picked up a torch from the table and turned it on. The lens remained dark. Lucy and Dale looked at each other, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing. The Dictaphone battery-draining incident wasn't a one-off.
Sker House Page 17
