Walking Through Fire

by C. J. Bahr

  What was going on? Her inner sense tingled, just like it did when she researched artifacts for the museum and found them to be fakes. Something was off and she just wasn’t seeing it.

  Laurel raced away from St. Brendan’s, ahead of the storm, while her mind shifted through the possibilities. She reached Cleitmuir just as the rain started falling and concluded the church had been a dead end. Hopefully, Beth wouldn’t be too upset with her. It was only now just past five-thirty.

  Laurel opened the front door and was relieved when she heard Beth’s laughter coming from the front sitting room.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Suitable weather, indeed,” Beth commented to someone.

  A low voice answered her and more laughter followed. Curious, Laurel shook the few drops of water from her hair before entering the room.

  “Ah, there you are!” Beth bounded over to her, leaving two men standing by the fire. She grabbed Laurel’s arm and dragged her over to the waiting men. “Let me introduce you. I’d like you to meet Steve Wright and Doug Kerr.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Laurel shook hands with both men.

  “Gentleman, meet your newest team member, Laurel Saville,” Beth continued.

  “Team member?” Confused, her gaze bounced between Beth and the men.

  Beth couldn’t stop the grin that lit her face. “Yup. BAPS, the British Agency for Paranormal Studies. Surprise!”

  Laurel stood stunned for a moment. “You’re kidding right?”

  “Hell, no,” Beth answered. “We’re having our very own ghost hunt. Happy early birthday!”

  “Sweet! This is so cool. I’ve always wanted to do this,” she hugged Beth and grinned. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time. I showed the boys around and gave them a bit of history on the two active rooms downstairs. We even got the digital video cameras up and wired. Besides, it gave me time to remind our guests about the investigation and to point out which rooms are off-limits tonight when it gets dark. Not that many of them will be up and about at two in the morning, but we don’t need to record a disembody voice only to discover it wasn’t a ghost but a real human walking down the hall to the loo. No debunking my own paying customers.” Beth laughed and hugged Laurel back.

  “We were just waiting for you to get your room hooked up,” Beth looked over her shoulder and crooked a finger. “Gentlemen it’s time for the pièce de résistance. Follow me.”

  Laurel tagged after Beth as they walked to the main staircase with Doug and Steve close behind. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret! Our very own ghost hunt! And, you didn’t tell me you had other haunted rooms. You have more than one ghost?”

  Doug chuckled behind her. “We’ve done some research since we were scheduled so far in advance. This hotel could be loaded with spirits. There have been a lot of deaths associated with Cleitmuir Manor.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed. “Not only both Murdoc and Simon MacKay, but there’ve been servants and people who were guests here. There’s a plethora to choose from.”

  “Awesome, well not awesome people had to die, but you know what I mean,” she said. “You’ve been holding out on me, Beth. And here I thought you were my best friend.”

  “Well, I only knew of the recent activity. You know, stuff missing or moved in the office, which used to be the study when it was a manor and not a hotel. We’ve also had occurrences in the kitchen and the stables.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t said anything.” Laurel glared at her friend.

  Beth laughed, not intimidated at all. “It was a surprise. Of course I’ve held things back. Better to make things more exciting tonight.” Her eyes gleamed with elation. Their mutual love of ghosts since childhood was going to finally pay off. At any moment she wouldn’t be surprised if they started squealing and jumping around like they did when they were little girls.

  “We’ve only rigged the office and kitchen for tonight,” Beth continued breaking into her musings. “And of course, we’ll be covering all of your rooms as well. If we get any action, we’ll expand to a bigger investigation to include the entire property, probably during an off time when we can close the place entirely.”

  Beth paused outside Laurel’s suite. “And now, for the most haunted room in our hotel.” With a flourish, Beth unlocked the door. “This suite once belonged to Simon MacKay.”

  Luckily, Laurel thought, she’d left the place tidy, with no embarrassing bits of clothing.

  “So, Beth,” Steve said. “Tell us about these rooms.”

  “Its history is kind of odd. First, we know for a fact this suite was Simon’s. We only notice occurrences during the Primrose Festival. Or at least, it’s the time we have reports or complaints. That’s why we think it’s Simon doing the haunting. After all, he disappeared during the festival, or at least that’s what the folklore says.

  “We’ve had everything from moved and missing objects, to feelings of paranoia and creepiness. Someone even thought they saw a figure.”

  “Was it a full body apparition or more like a shadow figure,” Doug asked.

  “Shadow, large and black. It crossed the room and disappeared by the fireplace.”

  “Beezer.” Steve smiled noticing their confusion. “Excellent, or I believe you Yanks would say, cool?”

  “That’s a new one. I’ll have to add it to my slang. Lets go to the bedroom,” Beth suggested.

  They crossed the expanse of the sitting area and crowded into the bedroom, where Beth continued with the briefing.

  “In here, we’ve reports of the bed shaking, moved objects, missing personal items—particularly clothing. A few guests have reported hearing a voice telling them to get out.”

  “Could they distinguish if it was male or female?” Doug asked.

  “Male.”

  “Interesting. Let’s hope it is Simon,” Steve commented. He walked over to the bathroom and poked his head into the water lover’s paradise. “Wow. That’s a hell of a bathroom.”

  Laurel smiled. “Isn’t it? I love it.”

  “I bet. Any activity in there?” Steve looked to Beth.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Especially since we’ve remodeled it.”

  “Huh. I still think we should put a recorder in there as well. You never know what we might pick up.”

  “Right. We’ve got plenty of cameras,” Doug agreed.

  As a group they left Laurel’s room, descended the stairs, and walked into the main room. Laurel went to the window to watch the rain which had begun to fall in earnest, while Beth plopped herself down on the couch. The two BAPS hunters opened their suitcases and started pulling out equipment. They unraveled extension cords, assembled tripods, and started hooking up the digital cameras.

  “So, Laurel,” Steve said. “You’ve been here almost a week. Do you have anything to add?”

  “Beth said they usually can’t keep this room booked during the festival, and stopped trying all together,” Doug stated. “You must have set some kind of record.”

  Laurel shrugged. “I feel like a loser. Nothing’s happened, no odd feelings, nothing missing that I’m aware of, no disembodied voices. And I certainly haven’t seen any figures, shadows or otherwise. Complete zip.” She laughed. “And here I’m the ghost lover.”

  “Shame. I wonder if he’s passed on. It’d be great if he has, at least I think it would be better if he has, but Simon’s got such an interesting past,” Doug commented. “The stuff we uncovered during research was fascinating.”

  “True,” Steve agreed. “Simon, the only son of Cora and Murdoc MacKay lived here until the age of sixteen. He lied about his age and went to France to fight. What we could find about his military stint was sketchy but colorful.” He passed a few cameras off to Doug, who went into the bedroom.

  “He was in a cavalry unit and distinguished himself. He was then assigned to General Lord Edward Carlisle, who was the third son of the Duke of Elsmere,” Steve continued. “After that, he mostly fall
s off the map. From some dispatches it looks like he became an infiltrator, or what we’d call a spy today. You know, working behind enemy lines.

  “There aren’t any details of this part of his military service. Just that he achieved the rank of Captain and his name was mentioned with distinction in the rolls. We can trace him returning home sometime in 1809, and then we lose him again. He completely disappears.”

  Doug emerged from the bedroom. “I’ve set up cameras in both the bathroom and bedroom. They’re ready to rock and roll when it’s time.”

  “Thanks.” Steve gave his partner a thumbs up. “Anyway, we do know Murdoc MacKay died in 1809 under mysterious circumstances. Whether Simon killed his father we don’t know. But there’s certainly enough weirdness for ghosts to be around.”

  “And on that note,” Beth stood. “Dinner should be ready. Let’s eat.”

  “Great. I’m starving. Thanks for feeding and putting us up, Mrs. Murray,” Doug replied.

  “Beth, remember? And it’s my pleasure. When two a.m. strikes, I just hope we find ourselves some ghosts!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Simon watched. Not again. Invisible, he lurked in a darkened corner of the lobby of his manor. It was late, the sun had gone to bed below the horizon while a heavy rain lashed Cleitmuir, casting shadows throughout. His mood now matched the gloom. Another day gone and he still hadn’t found the blasted key. And now this. A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance. Another bloody ghost hunt.

  He hugged the wall, a shadow among shadows, and approached the little group consisting of two men, Laurel and Beth.

  “It’s magic hour now,” the shorter of the two men said. “I think we should split up. There’s not much nighttime this far north, so our time is limited before sunrise.”

  “All the equipment is turned on and running,” the second proscribed ghost hunter confirmed. This one was tall and skinny like a reedy tree. “Here are your walkie-talkies.”

  “Thanks, Doug.” Laurel took one of the small devices and hooked it to her jeans’ pocket.

  The man identified as Doug, passed another to Beth. “There’s a digital recorder on the table in front of the couch for your EVP session, you know, to record any Electronic Voice Phenomenon. Oh, Steve, give ’em a K-II meter as well.”

  The short guy, Steve, took out a hand held device that had a series of lights in a line. When he waved his hand in front of the device, the bulbs lit in a sequence from yellow to green to red. Steve nodded and passed the meter to Beth.

  “Are you okay with all this stuff?” Steve asked.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Beth assured him. “We’ve got all the lingo and equipment down, years of study under our belts.”

  Laurel laughed. “I don’t think watching the television show, Ghost Hunters, makes us experts, Beth.”

  “We might not be like Jason and Grant, plumbers by day, ghost hunters at night,” Beth paused in order to mimic the show’s intro. “But we know our way around a dark spooky mansion. Particularly when it’s my mansion.” Beth chuckled.

  “We’re losing the night, so if you’re sure you two will be good on your own, we should start,” suggested Doug.

  “I know you girls will be alone in Simon’s room,” Steve added. “But there shouldn’t be any cause for alarm. We’ve no proof he’s a murderer or violent spirit. No one’s gotten hurt. But if you get unsettled or anything, just call us on the walkie-talkie.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Laurel reassured him. “Come on, Beth, let’s investigate.”

  “Back at ya. I’ve got a ton of questions right here,” Beth tapped a finger to her forehead, “for my ghosts lurking in my house.” She laughed again and by the light of their small torches, climbed the stairs toward the second floor.

  Shite. They had to be joking. Did they really fear him? Think him a scary, harmful spirit? True he had “chased” many a guest away who stayed in his room, but he never hurt anyone. If they wanted a true fright, all they had to do was enter room 302. Inside was Mrs. MacLeod. She’d died while bedding a sailor. She haunted all of eternity in a lacy teddy, all seventeen stones of her. Now that was terrifying. He chuckled to himself.

  During his sojourn in this purgatory, he had noticed other spirits occupying Cleitmuir. He’d even hoped to meet his father, who if anyone had a reason to haunt, it was his da. But he never came across the late Earl, and Cleitmuir’s other ghosts, though he could see them, never acknowledged him. Across the centuries he had wondered why. He could only surmise though he died, he wasn’t like them, not a real ghost. Something else, something cursed.

  Frustrated, Simon made up his mind and followed the two men into the old study. The hunters wanted dangerous, he’d give it to them. He’d spent years behind the French lines where one misstep meant his life, or worse, the lives of the soldiers fighting against Bonaparte. He liked danger, thrived on it, and in return became a dangerous man himself. This time at least, he needn’t worry about dying. It was time he had a wee bit of fun.

  He noted the fixed camera’s position and waited to see what Doug and Steve were up to. The men had taken seats by the bookcase directly across from the camera and placed what they’d called a handheld recorder and the K-II meter on the table between them.

  “Start EVP session, 2:30 a.m., Doug and Steve in the office,” Steve announced and paused. “Is there anybody in this room with us tonight? My name is Steve and this is Doug. We mean you no harm. Can you tell us your name? Make a noise, move something, touch one of us.”

  Simon grinned and crossed his arms. Not bloody likely.

  The silence in the room remained unbroken except for the rain pounding against the windows.

  “I hope this weather doesn’t mess with our recordings. Try the K-II,” Steve suggested.

  “Right.” Doug waved his hand in front of the device causing it to light up. “This is a K-II meter. It detects magnetic fields. If you approach, you might be able to light it up. It won’t harm you. It’ll let us know you’re here, and we might be able to communicate with you.”

  Simon frowned. Why would a ghost be afraid of harm? After all, they’re dead not stupid, nothing could hurt them anymore. He walked over and stood by the device directly between the men, waved his hand across and all the LED’s flashed on.

  “Wow, did you see that!” Doug exclaimed.

  “The video camera should have gotten it as well,” Steve replied. “Let’s see if that was a fluke. If that was you, can you please light it up again?”

  He gave a mental sigh and waved his hand. The lights flashed on.

  “It’s a strong signal. Let’s try questioning the spirit,” Doug said. “Are you, male?”

  Both hunters stared at the dark device. “Are you female?”

  Simon smiled and waved his hand.

  “Cool. Did you live here?” Steve asked. “Huh, nothing. Oh, did you work here?”

  Simon waved his hand again. The questions and answers went on until he had the two men convinced he was a twelve-year-old girl who worked in the kitchens. These hunters were choobs. That was until the tall one suddenly stuck out his arm, which passed right through him. Christ, that hurt.

  “Steve, a cold spot. Get the thermal. It’s subtle, but it might pick up.”

  Steve got up and went to the case sitting on the desk and began unloading the new camera. Simon waited. After two hundred years, he’d learned a trick or two. And with the tall sod sending sharp daggers through him with his touch, Simon deserved a little pick-me-up. He felt the contained energy in the thermal camera as it powered up. Before Steve could raise the lens to scan the room, Simon concentrated and felt the power from the battery surge across the room and flood into him. He stepped away from Doug’s prodding arm.

  “Hey, the camera’s dead! This was a new battery. I know I charged it.”

  “Check the video camera, did it drain as well?” Doug asked. “The voice recorder is still fine.”

  “Hang on,” Steve went to the camera and checked the re
corder. “Nope, it’s good. I’ll just swap out for the spare.”

  Simon watched as the man juggled his torch and changed batteries.

  I don’t think so, smartarse. He felt the camera powering up, and with little concentration, just like before, the burst of energy hit him, draining the second battery dry. That was more like it. He felt stronger and more powerful after sucking the two batteries dry. At times like this, it was good to be a ghost. He felt ready to tackle anything.

  “Damn, this one isn’t working either. I guess we won’t have any thermal this time around.”

  “Forget it. It’s probably a great sign. Maybe there’s another presence here. Let’s do more EVP work,” Doug suggested.

  Right. Simon had had enough. He looked up as if he could see through the ceiling. He wondered what the lasses were up to.

  ****

  “I guess we should probably start working instead of chatting,” Laurel suggested. “As the boys at BAPs said, ‘time’s a wasting’.”

  Beth picked up the digital recorder and turned it on. “Okay, let’s be official.” She cleared her throat then laughed.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s professional,” Laurel teased.

  “Hang on, I can do this,” Beth replied. “Start EVP session, Lori and Beth in room 208, Simon MacKay’s room. If there’s someone here, can you please tell us your name?”

  Simon, having returned to his rooms, sighed. Not this again.

  “My name’s, Beth. Are you angry that an American owns your home?” She paused. “Are you pissed we’ve made it into a hotel?”

  Laurel grinned. “I would think so.”

  Simon almost laughed. He wasn’t happy his home was a boarding facility, but at least it wasn’t abandoned and in ruins.

  “All right, smarty-pants, ask away,” Beth countered.

  “Umm, thanks for allowing me the use of your room. I understand normally it’s a problem for you.” She glanced toward the bedroom and then let her eyes wander the sitting area. “Why are you still here? Is it the gold?”