by Amy Cross
“We have some equipment in the car,” I reply cautiously, “but -”
“Is there any chance you could give my pub the once-over?” he asks, interrupting me yet again. “I just really want to know for certain whether there's a spirit here. I looked into hiring a proper firm, but they want five or six grand just to come and do an initial assessment. Ghost-hunting's a big business suddenly, but unfortunately the prices are through the roof. And they can do that, because there are people who'll pay silly money. I don't have silly money, I can't really afford to pay you at all, but if you could see your way to just giving the place a quick scan...”
His voice trails off.
“You can have as many rolls as you want, if that helps,” he adds finally, lowering his voice a little. “You can even have the whole jar of onions, if that's your kind of thing.”
“There's really no such thing as a quick scan,” I tell him.
“But your Doctor Carter is an expert, isn't he?”
“He's one of the leading figures in what's a very new and exciting area of study,” I explain, “but ghost detection -”
“What about that thing you brought from your desk?” he asks. “You said maybe it'd be useful.”
“I was -”
“You could at least give it a go, couldn't you? Please?”
Sighing, I reach into my pocket and take out the phone that Doctor Carter converted into a primitive pattern analyzer. I guess I did tell the landlord that this could pick up certain traces, although he seems to have run with that idea and decided that it's a full-on ghost-spotter. Unfortunately, I'm really not sure how to let him down gently.
“I'm not scared,” he says suddenly. “I won't run screaming from the room if he appears, if that's what you're worried about. I just want to see it. And maybe get a photo, for social media.”
“I'm not worried about any of that,” I reply, “I just... I really don't think that there's anything I can do to help you.”
“Just give the place a quick scan,” he continues. “This particular ghost is said to be very persistent and strong. I bet he'll show up on your device, even if the average ghost wouldn't.”
I want to tell him that this is hopeless, but then I suppose there's no way he'll believe me.
“Please,” he adds. “This place hasn't got much else going for it.”
Sighing, I switch the phone on and quickly load the program that Doctor Carter wrote. All that this device does is monitor for potential patterns in the low spectra, which in some cases can be used to identify areas where ghosts might have been in recent days. In a field that's barely getting started, this piece of kit is particularly experimental and unreliable, and I know that there's no point even running this scan. At the same time, when I look over at the landlord, I see that he's almost dripping with anticipation.
“I'll do my best,” I tell him, before activating the program and starting to turn the phone around slowly so that I can scan the entire room.
“What's it doing now?” the landlord asks eagerly.
“I'm scanning for trace patterns.”
“And what are those when they're at home?”
“Signs that something came this way.”
“What kind of signs?”
“Things that trail in the wake of the ghost.”
“Like farts?”
“No,” I say, trying to sound sympathetic, “not really.”
“And how -”
“It's best to be silent while I'm doing this,” I lie. “In case you scare anything off.”
“Right! Wouldn't want to do that, would we?”
Thankfully, he doesn't say anything else as I slowly turn and aim the phone at all four corners of the room. On the screen, I can see an image from the phone's camera overlaid with a set of grids that are dividing the room into cubic-meter segments and analyzing for particles in the EM-A, EM-B and EM-C bands. Even if something showed up, there'd be a big chance of a false positive, but I'm not entirely surprised when I finish my sweep of the room without finding anything whatsoever.
“Well?” the landlord asks. “Are you done?”
I really don't want to let him down, but I also don't want to feed him a load of lies. There might well be a headless man haunting this pub, but I'm sure not picking it up.
“As I said,” I remind him cautiously, “a cursory scan such as this can't really tell us much. Just because nothing came up, that doesn't necessarily mean there hasn't been any kind of spectral presence here. It would take much, much longer to run a proper check on the property.”
“But you can get a general idea with that thing, can't you?” he asks, keeping his eyes fixed on the phone. “Is there anything in your van that might help?”
“Everything in the van is kind of locked away,” I explain. “I'm sorry, but my boss wouldn't let me get it out, even if we had time to do any proper work here.”
“Right,” he says, and now he seems disappointed. “I suppose that makes sense.”
I wait for him to continue, but he's lost in thought and he looks pretty crestfallen. I should just tell him that I need to get back to my room, but I can't help feeling bad for the guy and besides after a moment I realize that I'd just end up going over old papers anyway. It's not like I've got anything better to do, and it might be useful to get some practice. I'd be leading the landlord on a little, although I've been quite honest about the odds of us finding anything. It couldn't hurt to try.
“Are there any other rooms where people have experienced a presence?” I ask, and I immediately see his eyes light up with excitement. “I'm not promising anything, but I could take a quick look around for you.”
His eyes light up with a broad grin.
V
“So you checked every room?” Josh asks a few hours later, as we stand shivering in the parking lot next to the locked van. “Every single room in the entire pub?”
“Pretty much,” I reply, pulling my jacket tighter shut. “Except the rooms you guys were sleeping in, obviously.”
“And did this headless ghost put in an appearance?”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“It's gone seven,” he continues, checking his watch. “Weren't we supposed to be on the road by now? Maybe one of us should go knock on Carter's door. And by one of us, I mean you. I've experienced his temper before, and I don't fancy it going off in my face.”
“I'm sure he's just finishing off some work,” I reply. “You know what he's like, he gets -”
Before I can finish, I hear the front door of the pub banging open, and I turn to see Doctor Carter stumbling out. He's still buttoning his shirt, and his hair's a mess. Frankly, he looks as if he just rolled out of bed about thirty seconds ago, and he stumbles a couple of times as he makes his way across the not-yet-dry parking lot. This isn't quite how I expected us to start the morning.
“Bloody phones,” he mutters as he reaches us. “Every time they update, the alarm works differently.”
I glance at Josh and see his amused smile.
“I trust that you're both fully rested and ready for today's final stretch of the journey,” Doctor Carter continues, unlocking the van and sliding the back door open. “That idiot landlord was asking so many questions this morning, I think he was hoping I'd invite him to ride along with us. It's hard to believe that even after six months, there are still people who think that what we're doing is some kind of joke.” He turns to us. “He was rambling on about some kind of headless ghost. Can you imagine that? Some people are just imbeciles!”
He leans into the van, and I immediately notice that the back of his shirt is tucked into his trousers. I briefly consider letting him know, before realizing that maybe I should try to be a little more tactful.
“I put him straight, of course,” he explains. “I informed him that we are conducting a serious scientific investigation into the presence that supposedly resides at Lannister Hall, and I made sure that he understands we're not messing about. I very much hope that from n
ow on he'll think twice before he treats such matters as if they're trivial. Then again, there's no changing some people.”
He finishes arranging some bags, and then he turns to us again.
“Well?” he continues. “What are you waiting for? Climb in and let's get going. We can't afford to be late! Lannister Hall awaits!”
***
“She's got crazy eyes,” Josh says, as the van bumps along a narrow road that winds through the forest. After a moment he turns the photo of Catherine Lannister around so that I can see. “Look at her! She's got the craziest eyes I've ever seen!”
“She looks perfectly normal,” I reply, unable to stifle a faint sigh. “She just wasn't used to posing for her photo. She looks like anyone else does in pictures from those days. In fact, she looks better than a lot of them.”
“Nah,” he continues, tilting the picture back so he can see it again. “I'm telling you, Katie, that woman had something going on. I know we don't know very much about her, but I've seen crazy and this is crazy.” He jabs a finger at the picture, hitting Catherine Lannister right in the face. “In fact, I met a woman at a club once who had the exact same look in her eyes. She ended up going home with a friend of mine and she turned out to be a complete psycho. Seriously, she tied him down faster than you can say jack-rabbit. In the space of eighteen months, he went from being a fun guy to marrying the nutter and popping out the first of several kids. And this Catherine Lannister woman has the same insane kinda face going on.”
I can't help sighing again.
“I'm serious!” he continues. “Trust me on this.”
“I think you're reading a little too much into it,” I point out, reaching out and taking the photo so that I can take another look. The van rumbles over another bump in the road, but I keep my eyes fixed on the picture for a moment. “She seems to have been a pretty conservative woman,” I continue. “That's one of the few things we know about her, right? And you can tell it from her hairstyle in this picture, and from her clothing too. So that kind of puts the kibosh on your comparison with the girl from the club.”
“Not really,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Things were different in the nineteenth century. A woman couldn't just get down on her knees back then and blow a guy in a club.”
I turn to him.
“Oh yeah,” he adds, nodding slowly. “Deadly serious.” He looks back at the photo. “They had to keep the craziness locked down deeper. That's not healthy, if you ask me. I bet, under that calm face, Catherine Lannister was a raging cauldron of emotions.”
“Her mother died in an asylum,” I reply.
“Seriously?”
“According to the records. But that doesn't necessarily tell us anything about Catherine Lannister herself. Let's avoid the knee-jerk amateur psychoanalysis, yeah?”
“I was right about the girl in the club, though,” he mutters. “As soon as I saw her in her rabbit costume, I could tell she was crazy.”
I open my mouth to ask more about this bizarre story, but suddenly the van grinds to a halt with such suddenness that I'm sent jolting forward. Josh grabs me and keeps me from thudding against the back of the front seats, although in doing so he accidentally grabs my chest.
“Sorry,” he says, winking as he lets go of me. “You can throw yourself at me all you like, but I'm never going to change.”
“Sorry,” I reply, before looking out the front of the van just as Doctor Carter opens the driver's-side door and climbs out into the mud. There's a gate up ahead, blocking the road, and I can't deny that I feel a faint twinge of anticipation in my chest as I realize that we must have reached the edge of Lannister property. “I guess we're almost there,” I point out, before turning to Josh. “Lannister Hall must be just a couple of miles further.”
“Are you scared?” he asks.
“No. Are you?”
“No. But you're doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“That thing you do when you're not telling the truth.”
“What thing?”
“You make really strong eye contact, and you don't blink so much.”
“Rubbish.”
“Whatever.”
“I'm not scared!” I say firmly.
“Don't worry,” he says, patting me on the arm as he slides the door open. “I'll look after you.”
“I don't need looking after,” I reply, but he's already hurrying around to help Doctor Carter with the gate. I should go and help, just to show that I'm keen, but it looks like they're managing just fine. I stay where I am, then, although after a moment I can't help noticing a sign on the nearby metal fence:
AREA UNDER SURVEILLANCE!
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED!
Sure enough, there's a camera perched on top of the fence, and another camera not too much further along. I already knew that the owners of Lannister Hall had gone to great lengths to make sure that amateur ghost-hunters stayed out. After all, licenses to explore genuinely haunted houses are changing hands for six-figure sums lately, thanks to the bonanza that was unleashed following Doctor Reynolds' announcement six months ago. Then again, from what I've heard, it seems that the Lannister family aren't so keen to have anyone visit the house. Doctor Carter really had to twist their arms, and I still don't quite know what he said to get them to agree.
He sure didn't have the money to pay market-rate, though. Whatever he promised them, it must be good.
“That's fine,” Josh says, coming back around and climbing into the van. “You stay there, princess, and don't get yourself muddy. The men'll do all the heavy work.”
“I'm sorry!” I splutter. “I thought -”
“Just kidding,” he chuckles, nudging my arm as Doctor Carter climbs back into the front seat. “You sit right there and keep yourself pretty.”
“That's not what I was doing!” I tell him, but then he starts laughing and I realize he's winding me up again. “I just thought you two had it under control. That's all.”
“I know, I know,” he says, as the van rumbles through the gate and then stops again. “You don't need to get so defensive, Katie. You earned your place on this trip. Doctor Carter certainly wouldn't have picked you if he had any doubts. Let me guess, you were getting top marks the whole way through your course, were you?”
“Something like that,” I reply, preferring not to get into the details. And then, as Doctor Carter climbs out to shut the gate, I quickly scramble past Josh and jump out into the thick, ankle-deep mud. “I'll do it!” I shout as I squelch round to help the doctor. “I can do it!”
As soon as I try to push the gate shut, however, I find that it's way heavier than I'd expected, and the bottom section seems to be sticking in the mud. A moment later Doctor Carter arrives to help, and together we just about manage to get the damn thing back into position. I'm pretty sure, however, that 90% of that was thanks to the doctor. On top of that, my leaky shoe has struck again and this morning's clean socks are already soaking wet.
“Back in the van,” Doctor Carter says, not seemingly particularly impressed with my efforts. “And wipe your feet first. You're covered in mud.”
“Absolutely,” I reply, before heading back to the van. As I reach the door, Josh holds a brush out for me, and I get to work trying to clean my boots. I guess I should have looked before I jumped out, and I can't help feeling embarrassed as I realize that everyone's waiting for me. “I won't be long,” I continue, frantically trying to get my boots fixed. “Just give me a moment. I'm almost done.”
As I continue to struggle, I hear Doctor Carter sighing in the driver's seat.
VI
“Lannister Hall,” Doctor Carter says as we all climb out of the van just a few miles further along the road. “Three hundreds years old, and still one of the most magnificent buildings in this part of the country. Look at the place. Aren't you filled with wonder?”
Stopping just behind him, I look up at the dark, granite-bricked facade, and I can't help but admit that he's r
ight. I've seen photos of Lannister Hall, of course. I've studied photos of the place, along with floor-plans and diagrams and books and sketches and anything else I could get my hands on. Still, it's different actually being here, and there's undeniably something awe-inspiring about the way the building rises up high from its spot in this clearing in the heart of the forest. For starters, the house is so tall, I think it might actually reach above the canopy.
I'm also amazed by the architectural styling. For such an old building, Lannister Hall has some surprisingly modern elements, and all my research suggests that these elements were in place from the start. In fact, there seems to have been precious little work done on the house since it was established. Then again, the Lannister family has never been willing to let historians get too close, not until now. Already, I can see several details that escaped me when I was studying photos of the building, and my mind is racing as I try to work out how these details might fit in with the general period of the house.
“No-one has set foot here in more than a decade,” Doctor Carter continues. “That gate at the threshold might not have looked like much, but it's part of a high-tech security system. If even one person had broken through, the Lannister family would have known. They're a wealthy family, and very mindful of their reputation. The last thing they want is to be associated with tales of haunted houses.”
He turns to Josh, and then to me.
“Even the security guards have never had any need to come this close to the main building,” he adds. “For ten years, Lannister Hall has stood here without being disturbed. That's more than three thousand cold, lonely nights out here in the forest.”
