DarkMan: Ghosts and Haunted Houses (The Spirit Guide Book 3)

by Caroline Clark

  “When did this happen?”

  “Two nights ago,” she said, as she covered up the injury.

  “And since?” Jesse asked as softly as he could.

  “Nothing.” Margie was finding it hard to look at them and had gone back to stirring her coffee.

  “Have you been to the police?” Gail asked.

  Margie looked up and moisture shone in her eyes. “What would I tell them? That I see and hear things? That an invisible entity is touching me? That it knocks over the picture of my dead husband and gropes me in the darkness? That a blue light flies around my room and pushes me onto the bed? Somehow I don’t think they would believe me. I saw your leaflet in the Post Office and at first I wondered if it was a con. I wondered whether you were really doing this, and whether you could ever help me... do you... can you?”

  “We believe you,” Jesse said, before Gail could answer. His wife had the skill in seeing spirits but she didn’t have his experience. From what he had already seen, he was sure that Margie was being haunted, but he could also see that Gail was skeptical. If they scared her away, then Margie could be in trouble. They needed to help her, for he was sure this was a malignant haunting and it could get bad, very bad, and very quickly.”

  Margie let out a great sigh and a tear broke free from her right eye, tracing down her cheek. Quickly she produced a handkerchief and patted it away.

  “Can you help me?”

  “Yes we can,” Jessie said. “We will need to know more… to come to your house.”

  “I understand. I don’t want to go back there, but where else would I go?”

  Chapter 5

  Jesse and Gail sat in silence as they drove Margie back to her place. There was tension in the car. Jesse wanted time to talk to Gail, to explain how they could coax the story out of Margie and what questions to ask, but there was no opportunity to discuss it in private. It was a lesson he would learn. Gail had to hide her skepticism and understand the client's needs must come first. Showing distrust could destroy their relationship with Margie and make it so much harder for her to get the help she needs. If she shut down, then it would go badly for her.

  Margie sat quietly in the back while in the front, Gail's jaw was clenched. The bruises and angry scabs on Margie's arms had shocked her, of that he was sure; but did she believe this was a spirit yet, or did she think it a drunken boyfriend?

  "It's this one," Margie said, "the bungalow with the Rowan tree in the front garden."

  Jesse pulled the Jeep up onto the small drive and stopped the car.

  "Do you want to stay here?" he asked, turning in his seat so he could just make her out in the light from the dashboard.

  Though the whites of her eyes showed her fear, she answered calmly, "I will be fine if you are with me and I need to show you around."

  Jesse grabbed the EMF meter and a head torch, pulling it on but leaving the light off for now. Then together they all approached the house. He wanted to talk to Gail, to tell her to open her mind and feel for the spirits, but he could see she was one step ahead of him.

  This would be their first time to seek out a spirit in such circumstances and he wanted it to go well. From the damage on Margie's arms, he knew she was in danger. If they got this wrong, he dreaded to think what could happen to her.

  With shaky hands, Margie unlocked the door and flicked on a light.

  Gail drew in a breath. She felt something, and in his hands, Jesse saw the EMF needle spike.

  He had the volume turned down. The last thing Margie needed was the constant screeching of the meter. The high pitched sound was enough to make anyone jump and right now, it could push Margie just a little too far.

  The meter spiked again. Jesse knew the spike didn't necessarily point to a spirit, but it was a good indication. This was a good start to their first real hunt.

  Stepping past Gail, he walked into the bungalow. Slowly he wandered around the room letting the meter lead the way. With each jump, his pulse kicked up another notch and he had to shake his arms to relax his shoulders. There was nothing he could see that would cause the EMF to spike, and the catch in his breath convinced him that a spirit had been or was here.

  It was all he could do to keep the smile off his face.

  As she stepped into the house, Gail felt the hairs on her arms stand up. Goosebumps traced down her skin and the familiar excitement clenched her stomach. So far she hadn't been convinced that Margie was being haunted, but the feeling she got upon entering the place had already changed her mind.

  The air was oppressive, charged, and as she looked around the room, a darkness seemed to scuttle away just before she could see it. It was just in her peripheral vision, just out of direct sight.

  "Tell me more and show me where things happened?" Gail turned to see Margie standing rock still. Her frame was so rigid that she could have been a statue. If she moved, Gail feared she would shatter into a million pieces. She now realized just how scared the woman truly was, and a bout of remorse hit her.

  It had been wrong to doubt her before she had investigated, even if she found the story hard to believe. Maybe that was a bit of her old logic cutting in and she would have to guard against it.

  Margie stepped a little further into the room and her eyes flicked to a plain white door. It was closed and Jesse was approaching it with the meter in his hands. He was being led by EMF to the room that Margie was afraid of.

  "Alan passed after a long battle with cancer." Margie stepped over to the old brown sofa and sank down into it.

  It looked comfortable and well-worn, cocooning her in its familiar embrace. Gail sat opposite her in an easy chair and took in the room as Margie spoke. It was neat to the point of obsession. Nothing was out of place, and yet it could have been a nice home. The furniture was well-used and the sofa faced the gas fire, and not the old-fashioned television. She imagined that Alan and Margie had spent a lot of time talking in front of that cozy fireplace.

  There were a few pictures on the walls of scenery that she didn't recognize, and on the mantle were five snow globes.

  "I'm so sorry to hear that," Gail said. "When did things start to happen?"

  Margie's eyes flicked to the closed door. Gail wondered if it was a bedroom. The bungalow was not that big and there were only three doors off the room. One she could see was open onto a hallway and the kitchen.

  "The problem is I can't explain when I realized something was wrong. At first, I was just numb and the pain was so raw that I just wanted to scream or sleep. I would wake forgetting that he was gone. For a moment, I would sense a presence. Then I would remember, and I would just be alone again.” The words faded away and Margie dropped her head and clutched her hands in her lap.

  “I understand,” Gail said. “May I get you something, a cup of tea or something else?”

  Margie looked up, tears sparkled in her warm brown eyes, but she blinked them back and took a breath. “I’m fine. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I sensed a presence. I would feel as if someone was there at night... but I just thought it was my Alan... his presence watching over me, and at first it was comforting. It was probably after about a month that the picture started to fall over."

  "Picture?"

  Margie stood and walked over to the closed door.

  Jesse had gone past it and turned down the corridor into the kitchen, leaving them alone. No doubt he had found the hot spot of activity… that plain white door. Now he would check the rest of the property before coming back to the place where he expected to get results.

  For some reason, Gail wanted to shout him back even though he would never be that far away.

  Margie reached out a hand, fingers shaking, and she looked to Gail for reassurance.

  Gail nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. It was such a normal door, plain white with a brass handle. There was nothing remotely scary about this home. It was reasonably modern, plainly decorated, and so light and airy, unlike most haunted houses that were dark, dismal, and rundown. This
was just so—normal. There was nothing to make her feel this apprehension, and yet her breath caught in her throat.

  Margie turned the handle and opened the door to a double bedroom. The walls were painted a soft blush pink. Filigree curtains hung down from the window and the duvet was a beautiful design of country roses. The room should have been inviting, but a cold breeze seeped out and chilled Gail to the bone.

  The air looked darker, thicker, and full of menace. Gail knew she should walk in calmly and confidently, but she didn't want to cross that threshold. There was no reason, nothing she could see, but every nerve in her body told her to keep out.

  Margie stepped back and pointed to a small bedside table in light oak. A picture lay face down on top of it.

  "The picture keeps falling over. Sometimes the window is open, but I never opened it."

  Gail ignored the fear, swallowed the lump in her throat, and walked to the picture. Slowly she picked it up. The wooden frame was cold in her fingers. As she held it, her stomach clenched and her hand started to shake. At first she thought it was nerves, but then she noticed that it was the picture. It vibrated in her hand so hard that it almost slipped from her fingers. Clinging on even more tightly, she turned it over, her breath held.

  The picture stopped moving and went dead in her hands. Staring back at her was a nice looking elderly man. Though he was maybe ten years older than Margie, his face was curled into a big smile and he looked sweet, kind, and compassionate. Gail stared at the photo and found that she wanted to smile back. This man could not be assaulting his wife, surely.

  The lights dimmed just a little and she turned to see Margie pushed into the room. The older woman stumbled and let out a yelp as a dark shadow hit her from behind. Before Gail could react, the light went out completely and the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 6

  Jesse kept his eyes on the EMF as he walked slowly towards a white door. The meter had led him directly across the room and he nearly fell over the sofa as the signal pulled him straight to it.

  As his knees bumped the cushions, he looked up, surprised to see the furniture there. A giggle almost escaped him. This had happened before. He got so engrossed in the equipment, that one time he even stepped off a step and fell down a staircase into a basement.

  Looking around and seeing that the ladies hadn’t noticed, he skirted around the furniture.

  Excitement made him want to rush, but he knew better. Take your time. Investigate thoroughly or things got missed. Sometimes seemingly irrelevant things could be the most important. Waving the EMF back and forth, he was led to the door. He took another step and things got a little confusing. There were two equally strong signals: one was toward the fireplace, the other in the direction of the door.

  Stopping, he assessed the room, and a chill ran down his spine. Maybe he had watched too many horror films, but he wondered if a body was bricked behind the cream walls. A vision flashed before his eyes as he remembered the bodies found in the cellar at Seafield House. Had they been mad to buy the place?

  Pushing the thought aside, he looked back at the wall; it looked so normal. There was a gas fireplace with an ornate false marble surround, and a plain wooden mantle. There were decorations on the top, but he hardly saw them as the EMF pulsed in his hands, and his eyes were drawn back to the needle. It pulled him toward the fireplace and then the signal died. He waved it again... it spiked. This time it was pulling him toward the door.

  Jesse took one last look at the fireplace and the wall behind it. There was room for a body. The chimney would be false with the gas fire. Shaking his head, he walked on. He could ask Gail what she thought. As an architect by trade, she would be able to tell him if the dimensions of the wall were off. As a sensitive she may be able to tell if a body was buried within the wall.

  Turning away, he followed where the meter led. It indicated strongly that a spirit had been, or still was here. Slowly but surely, he was pulled to the plain white door. His instinct was to open it, to go inside and to investigate as fully as he could, but that was not the best procedure. First he should check the rest of the house to make sure that there was nothing normal that could be causing the spikes. Electrical equipment in another room, bad wiring, or even electricity pylons outside the door could all cause the readings.

  It was also best to confirm that this was the only hot spot. They would look at the fireplace later, but there may be other places he needed to check.

  Fighting down his excitement, he turned away from the door and watched the readings fade as he searched the rest of the bungalow.

  It was a small and very tidy home. Nothing was out of place and it felt homey, even if a little cold. The hallway led to a kitchen and then a small conservatory. Without putting on any lights, he did a quick circuit of each room. Both of them were empty and the meter stayed still as he walked around them. Looking out of the windows of the conservatory, a street light lit up the area, giving him a perfect view. There was nothing that could cause his readings and his excitement bubbled inside.

  As he came back to the living room his heart missed a beat.

  Gail and Margie were standing at the white door. They were going in there and he wanted to stop them, even though he knew it was silly. The chances of the spirit manifesting while they were all here was unlikely, at least for now. Maybe if he could persuade Margie to let them stay, perhaps it would show itself. Still, a touch of fear and a touch of jealousy squirmed into his heart.

  Pushing his emotions aside, he opened an identical white door opposite the intriguing one.

  This was just a small spare room come office. There was a neat and tidy bed with a lilac throw on one side. A small desk, chair, and filing cabinet took up the other side. Though he knew there was nothing here, he stepped into the room and made a quick circuit. Fanning the EMF meter before him he searched every corner, even though he desperately wanted to get back to the other white door.

  When he got to the window, the EMF spiked, and his hand clutched tightly onto the plastic. Turning left, then right, he tried to trace the source, but the spike stayed right at the top of the gauge. Turning around, he could see Gail in the other room. It looked like a bedroom, which made sense.

  Margie was stood just outside the room.

  Again he waved the meter to the left. The needle faltered, back to center and it hit the red line; to the right, it faltered. The spirit was in front of him; it was in the room with Gail.

  A warning formed in his throat but before he could release it, before he could move, a darkness formed behind Margie.

  It happened so quickly. At first it was just a shimmer in the light, a shadow, as though someone had walked between her and the light, but then it darkened and swirled. Jesse knew something was about to happen. Excitement coursed through him. Pushing off on his feet, he raced forward.

  The shadow coalesced into a man-like shape and hands formed. Before Jesse had taken another pace, the hands pushed Margie hard in the small of her back. She was catapulted forward across the threshold of the master bedroom.

  “Gail!” Jesse shouted, but the door slammed shut. The darkness went through it and was gone.

  Chapter 7

  As the door slammed shut, Jesse ground to a halt like he had hit a wall. The EMF meter fell from his hands and landed on the carpet. It gave a solitary scream as the needle hit the red line and then it stopped. The needle fell back and the meter looked dead.

  The lights went off and the house was plunged into darkness.

  Fear buckled his knees and deadened his joints. For a moment he wondered, why me? Why again?

  All these years he had wanted to find spirits, to help them. Now every time he found one it seemed intent on causing him harm… on causing Gail harm.

  A deathly silence hung over the house seeming to both mock and isolate. What was here? What couldn’t he see? Something could be reaching out for Gail right now and she would never know. Opening his mouth he tried to shout, to warn her, but nothing came out.
The air had cooled so much that it had dried his throat, and the realization made him shiver.

  Swallowing, he lubricated his throat and reached for the switch on the head torch. It was hard to move the toggle. His fingers were cold and stiff, but at last he did it, and a beam of light lit up the darkness. He rubbed his fingers; they were so cold they burned, but he pushed the thought aside. This was normal, maybe more intense than usual, but nothing to worry about.

  “Gail!” he managed to shout, and found he had moved towards the door. The more he moved, the better he felt. Gail would handle this, and by the time he got there, no doubt the door would be open. She would be excited, her cheeks flushed with the cold and the energy, but she would be safe.

  Crossing the room in long desperate strides, he forced himself to believe that she would be fine, and yet the door wasn’t open.

  With a shaky hand, he reached for the brass handle. As he touched it, he received a slight static charge. For a moment, he wanted to draw his hand back, to rub away the jolt that tingled up his arm, but that wouldn’t help. He had to stay strong, to show the spirit that even though he couldn’t see him, he was not afraid, he was in control.

  Gripping the handle tightly, he blinked his eyes. The reflection from the head torch in the white door was dazzling in the darkness. He gripped tighter and the static dissipated. He tried to turn the handle but it wouldn’t budge. In his mind he imagined someone holding it from the other side.

  “Gail!” he shouted again, and this time he thumped on the door with the side of his hand. The torch light bounced in the darkness, making shadows on the walls and hiding so much. “Gail, can you hear me?”

  Holding his breath, he leaned into the plain white wood and listened. Nothing. If they were still on the other side, then they were either very quiet or they were shielded from him.