by Amy Cross
I force a smile, but he simply turns away from me and looks once again at the house. I guess he's experiencing the same sense of awe that I feel. Josh, meanwhile, seems conspicuously less fascinated.
“The last people to have been here,” Doctor Carter explains, “were three decorators who were supposed to come and do some work in the entrance hallway. They were some local fellows from a company in a nearby town. According to their account of events, they arrived early one morning and began to unload. As they did so, one of them glanced toward the house and happened to see a pale face watching them from...”
He hesitates for a moment, before pointing toward the far end of the house's southern side.
“From that window. One in from the corner.”
I turn and look at the window. I've got to admit, a shudder passes through my chest, although all I see is a dark reflection of the forest. I guess, in this light, there could well be someone standing on the other side of the glass, and they'd be obscured by the reflection. They, however, would be able to see us.
“All three of the men claimed to see the face,” Doctor Carter continues, “and they fled in terror. After that latest in a string of incidents, the Lannister family had the land sealed up and decreed that nobody was to come here again. I imagine they were sick and tired of all the stories that were being told about the place, although as I'm sure you're aware last year I tracked down two of those decorators and spoke to them about their experience.” He turns to me again. “They both confirmed that the face they saw at the window was the same woman from the photograph I showed them. They swore blind that it was Catherine Lannister.”
“Did you perform a controlled test?” I ask. “To see if they were lying, I mean.”
“Of course I performed a controlled test,” he replies witheringly. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I initially gave them a photograph of somebody else entirely,” he explains, “and all three of them said that it wasn't the correct woman. I gave them ample opportunity to make fools of themselves, and surprisingly none of them did. They all recognized Catherine Lannister.”
He eyes me with scorn for a moment longer, before turning and stepping slowly toward the house. He doesn't go too far, however, and he stops well before he reaches the stone steps that lead up to the large, black front door. I wait for him to make some fresh big pronouncement, but instead he remains silent, and after a moment I turn and look over at Josh.
He shrugs.
Turning back to Doctor Carter, I figure that he should be the one to break the silence, so instead I look up at the many windows of the house. It's difficult to really see anything, since the windows are only reflecting the forest and the gray sky. The crazy thing is, I've studied diagrams of this house so much over the past few weeks, I know the layout like the back of my hand. I know which windows look out from which rooms, and how they're all connected. I wouldn't go so far as to claim that I'm some kind of expert on Lannister Hall but, well, I know the place pretty well.
“So,” Doctor Carter says after a moment, turning to Josh and me, “what do we make of the decorators' story about the face at the window? Do we believe it?”
I wait for Josh to answer, but he doesn't say anything.
“No,” I suggest finally, tentatively.
“And why not, Miss Sinclair?”
“Because they said the face was staring at them?”
“And why is that a problem?”
“Because the current theory,” I continue, trying to pick my words with the utmost care, “suggests ghosts don't do that. I mean, they don't show any awareness of living people. They don't stare or...”
My voice trails off.
“Well done,” Doctor Carter replies. “You've done your homework, and you're quite right. Any story involving a ghost interacting with the living in any manner can be instantly dismissed. Those stories have no foundation whatsoever in the burgeoning field of ghost research. I would remind both of you that as we learn more, we not only find it easier to determine what is real. We also find it much easier to disprove all the bunkum that's out there. Ghosts can be seen by us, but they do not see us in return. They are not conscious, in the sense that we understand consciousness. They are echoes. Reflections of the past. They are not continuations of dead lives.”
“So what did the decorators see?” Josh asks.
Doctor Carter turns to him.
“I was just wondering,” he continues. “The whole story sounds kind of corny, like something out of a bad horror movie.”
“Well, if that's what it seems like,” Doctor Carter says, “then that's most likely what it is.” He turns to me. “What did they see, Miss Sinclair?”
“Figments of their imagination,” I suggest. “They were probably so scared on the way here, they saw what they wanted to see.”
“But the story of Lannister Hall is generally kept hushed up,” he points out.
“That doesn't mean they couldn't have heard of it,” I reply, “or, to be frank, they might even have come up with their own spooky story, independent of the legend.” I pause for a moment. “Either that, or they were just trying to get out of work.”
“Cynical,” he replies with an approving nod. “That's what I like to hear.”
“I'm not cynical!” I protest. “I'm just thinking about...”
My voice trails off again as I realize that I guess I was being pretty cynical there. I've never been a cynical person, I swear, but I suppose I was just trying to say the right thing. I guess, deep down, I want Doctor Carter to like me. To trust me.
“Remember,” he continues, “just because ghosts are real, that doesn't mean that all ghost stories are true. Far from it. Most are garbage dreamed up by impressionable minds. We have to remain highly skeptical at every stage of our investigation.” He turns and looks up toward the windows of Lannister Hall. “It's entirely possible,” he adds, “probable even, that there's no ghost here at all. Based on a cold reading of the facts, at least.”
“That would make this a colossal waste of time,” Josh mutters under his breath.
“Having said that,” Doctor Carter adds, taking a key from his pocket, “it is my earnest opinion, based on everything I've researched about this house, that there is indeed a ghost at Lannister Hall. I wouldn't have brought you out here otherwise.” He hesitates, still staring up at the house's grand facade, and then when he turns to us I can't help but notice a hint of fear in his eyes. “We have this place for two nights,” he continues. “Let's not waste a moment of that time. I'll open up, and you two get the equipment from the van. First, though, I want you to remind me of the three rules.”
“Ghosts aren't aware of us,” Josh offers.
“And?”
“Ghosts don't react to us,” he adds.
“And?”
There's a pause, and I realize they're waiting for me.
“Ghosts can't hurt us,” I say, completing the set.
“That's right,” Doctor Carter replies with a nod. “Just remember those three rules once we're inside, and everything will be just fine.”
With that, he turns and makes his way up the steps, and a moment later I feel Josh nudge my arm.
“It's a shame, if you ask me,” Josh mutters as I turn to him. “I wouldn't mind a nice chat with a ghost. You never know, right? It might be possible some day. I'd love that.”
“Me too,” I reply, before following him over to the van. I bet he has no idea how much I mean those words.
We start gathering the first of the equipment, and then we start carrying the various boxes over to the house. Doctor Carter has already opened the front door and made his way inside, and I must admit that I feel a flicker of anxiety as Josh and I head up the stairs and into Lannister Hall's large, very grand entrance hallway. As I look around, I tell myself that there's no need to be afraid. I simply have to remember the three rules.
There's a strange ringing sound in my ears,
though. Or is it even a sound at all? Maybe it's more like a sensation, a feeling of something reaching out to me. Whatever's causing it, I feel for a moment as if my head is about to burst.
“Welcome to Lannister Hall,” Doctor Carter says, turning to us as we set the boxes down. “I dare say that we -”
Suddenly there's a loud bang, and Josh and I both spin around to see that the front door has slammed all the way open and is now shuddering against the wall.
“Just the wind, I'm sure,” Doctor Carter continues, as the ringing sound leaves my ears. “Now, let's get this equipment set up, shall we? It's time to uncover the secrets of Lannister Hall.”
VII
“We're still at the very beginning of our understanding,” Doctor Alice Reynolds says, as Josh and I sit huddled in a corner of the hallway and watch the live video on his phone. “There's so much we don't understand yet about these ghosts. And we've yet to see my results replicated in more than a handful of studies. So of course I'm glad that other people are investigating. I welcome their efforts. It's not like I could do it all myself.”
“What do you say to people who still think this is some kind of massive fraud?” the interviewer asks. “You must be aware that there are groups out there, especially online, who still believe that you and your colleagues are engaged in some kind of trick.”
“What else can I say to those people?” she replies, rolling her eyes. “The evidence is clearly laid out. If people are too stupid to understand, that's their problem. I'm certainly not going to waste my valuable time worrying about a bunch of idiots on the internet. Let them argue, let them doubt. It's no skin off my nose.”
“She's a real charmer, huh?” Josh mutters. “I'm glad none of this is going to her head. She must be -”
“Wait!” I whisper, hoping to hear more of what Reynolds has to say.
Before I can do that, my phone starts ringing. I check and see that Dad's trying to get through. I know he's worried about me, but I really don't have time to talk to him right now, so I cut the call.
“Weird, huh?” Josh says with a smile. “Who'd have thought a haunted house, out in the middle of nowhere, would have such excellent network coverage?”
“My signal's not even this good in some parts of London,” I tell him.
“Look at the video speed I'm getting,” he replies. “This thing hasn't even buffered once.”
“I always knew there would be skeptics,” Doctor Reynolds continues in the video. “That's the nature of this kind of discovery. It's scary for people who don't want to open up their minds. We're at the intersection of science and faith, and that brings out the good in people but also the bad. As long as the crazies stay well away from me, that's absolutely fine. Let them waste their energy with their doubts and questions. The rest of us, those of us who are smart, are getting on with the important work of studying this phenomenon so that we can -”
Suddenly there's a bump nearby, and Josh quickly closes his phone. As he does so, I turn away and start opening one of the crates, and a couple of seconds later Doctor Carter wanders through from the banquet hall.
“How are you two getting along in here?” he asks, and thankfully it's clear that he didn't realize we were listening to a copy of Doctor Reynolds' broadcast. He would not have been happy if he'd caught us. “Come on, chop chop! I need all of this unpacked within the hour. I know unpacking is boring, but it has to be done so that we can move on to the proper work. You mustn't think that this line of work is going to be all about glamour and glory.”
“Nearly there, boss,” Josh says. “Just sorting the leads. I wanted to ask you about the sensors, though. They seem to have a compartment that I can't access.”
“None of your concern.”
“But how can I -”
“I've told you how to set them up. You don't need to know anything else.”
“It would still help. I think maybe -”
“I didn't bring you here to think,” he snaps. “Either of you. I brought you here to follow orders.”
Josh turns to me, and I offer a faint, sympathetic smile. After all, it's not as if either of us can argue with the great Doctor Carter.
“While you've been working hard,” Doctor Carter continues with a loud, theatrical sigh, “the estimable Doctor Alice Reynolds has most likely been pontificating once again during a television broadcast.” He takes his phone from his pocket. “It seems that the good Doctor Reynolds never runs out of opinions that need spouting. On this occasion, she has seen fit to bless we mere middling drones with her views on everything from skeptical viewpoints to the sharp rise in suicides that has resulted from her discovery.”
“That last part I can almost understand,” Josh suggests. “Why struggle through the grind of life when you can go top yourself somewhere nice like Borneo or Bora Bora, and just haunt paradise for eternity?”
Doctor Carter turns and glares at him.
“That was a joke,” Josh adds, “and I see now that it was in extremely poor taste.”
I don't say it, but I can kind of see that he has a point. Doctor Reynolds' discovery has sent a shock-wave through society, and I'm sure the full ramifications are yet to appear.
“One might suggest,” Doctor Carter continues, as I set the scanner hub system on the floor, “that Doctor Reynolds might have been wiser to have kept her findings to herself, rather than announcing them the way she did six months ago. Her lust for fame has created a rather unfortunate set of circumstances with which the rest of the world is struggling to deal. Still, I suppose asking her to keep her mouth shut would have been unfair. She put the work in, so she deserve the fame and adulation. To someone like her, that's all that really matters.”
He spits those last words out with particular venom. I know better than to try to offer a viewpoint when he's in one of these moods, so I simply focus on unpacking the crates. The last thing I want is to annoy Doctor Carter. After all, I've heard stories about his bad temper but I've never actually seen his rage myself.
And then, suddenly, I hear a distant bumping sound that seems to be coming from one of the rooms upstairs.
Startled, I look up toward the ceiling, and then over toward the large spiral staircase that rises up from the hallway. A moment later I turn and see that Josh is looking the same way, and then I hear a sigh from Doctor Carter.
“Please don't,” he says with the tone of a man who's extremely irritated.
I turn to him. “I'm sorry,” I mumble.
“This is an old house,” he continues, “and it would be strange if there weren't any noises.” He takes one of the portable scanners from his pocket. “We're nowhere close to the level of background maon radiation that's required for ghost manifestation, and we won't get there until close to midnight.”
“I know,” I reply.
“Which means that any ghostly activity in the house is completely undetectable to the human eye or ear for the next few hours.”
I nod.
“Which in turn means,” he adds, “that if you two keep jumping whenever a pipe expands or some element of the house's foundation shifts, I shall become very tired very fast. Is that understood?”
I nod.
“Absolutely,” Josh says.
“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised,” Doctor Carter mutters, turning and wandering back toward the banquet hall. “Humans have been scared of ghosts for thousands of years. One cannot expect such superstitious nonsense to end in the space of six months. But houses still settle, and pipes still creak.”
As he heads away, he's still mumbling to himself, but after a moment I turn to Josh.
“You realize we're not here to talk, right?” he says. “We're dogsbodies. Grunts. We're here to do what we're told, when we're told to do it, and to assist Doctor Carter in any manner he sees fit.”
“I know,” I reply.
“He won't thank you for having your own ideas. Just keep your head down, do what he says, and kid yourself that you're learning something. Worst
case scenario, you've got something to put on your CV at the end of it all. I mean, he might be a spectacular ass, but old Carter's name still carries some weight in the academic world.”
“I know.”
“Plus we get to see this ghost,” he points out, “which isn't too bad a return on our time. I don't know about you, but I feel like it's been forever since Doctor Reynolds made her announcement, and I've been dying to get my hands dirty. I want to see my first real, verifiable ghost.”
I nod.
“So just go with the flow,” he adds, before reaching into one of the crates and straining as he takes out the larger of the two maon detectors that we brought this weekend. “Although just between you and me, I agree that the whole situation is pretty creepy. I mean...”
He turns and looks around for a moment.
“Just because we can't detect her yet,” he continues, “doesn't mean the ghost of Catherine Lannister isn't here right now, walking around. And sure, she has no awareness of our presence, but I still don't like the idea that maybe she's close by at this very moment. If you ask me, the idea that we shouldn't be scared, just 'cause we're beginning to understand the science behind ghosts... I'm not so sure about that. We're still talking about a dead woman. She might even be in this room with us right now.”
“She probably isn't, though,” I point out.
“How many rooms are there in Lannister Hall?”
“Well over twenty if you count the hallway.”
He smiles. “Then I guess there's a one-in-twenty chance that she's here now. Unless she prefers to loiter in certain places.”
As he gets back to work, I can't help looking around in case there's some sign that the ghost of Catherine Lannister is nearby. I know that it's impossible for there to be a sign, but that doesn't stop me looking. I guess it's not easy to shake off the superstition, but after a moment I force myself to get on with the job of unpacking the equipment. I have to stay focused on the task at hand and not let my mind wander. I'm here to do a job, not to let myself get spooked. Right now the job involves taking a load of equipment out of a crate, but later...
