The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

by Kennedy Layne

  “A séance?” The disbelief in Joshua’s tone was more than evident, and I tried not to take it too personally. It was very hard for humans to believe in the supernatural, but his reaction also told me that he wasn’t the one who’d been dabbling in voodoo. “You can’t possibly be serious. What’s next? A Ouija board? That is the most ridiculous—”

  “Mr. Ashton, I explained that our methods were a bit unorthodox,” I said, cutting off what was sure to be a long explanation as to why such things didn’t work. “Your aunt and sister are on board with the idea. Gertrude and Wilbur will be joining us, and we’d like you to do the same. The more energy we are able to produce, the better chance we stand of communicating with Ophelia.”

  Let’s just hope that we can contain that energy, Miss Lilura. From the effects of Ophelia’s previous appearance, I’d say she is quite strong. Odd, really, given the fact that Piper found something very interesting in Patricia’s diary.

  I motioned for Orwin to begin walking back the way we’d come, fishing out my room key in case Joshua remained in the doorway to watch us leave. He still stood inside the doorframe with a dubious expression on his face. He was such a nonbeliever of the supernatural—even after having seen a spirit with his own eyes—that I wasn’t sure we could convince him to join us at the séance.

  “We’ll be downstairs, Mr. Ashton,” I said with a finality that ended the discussion.

  Bravo, Miss Lilura. Now, what exactly do you plan to do once you retrieve the voodoo doll?

  Now that we had close to all the players in the great room, I planned to keep the momentum moving along. With Orwin on board, we were unraveling information at a rapid rate.

  I suppose that’s a good thing with Ophelia needing to recharge before attempting to take someone’s life again.

  It didn’t take long for Orwin and I to reach room thirteen. I made it seem as if the key I held in my hand was the one to actually go to this specific keyhole, all the while using my mind to shift the lock mechanism. I didn’t even look back to see if Joshua was still watching us. The second I heard the lock unfasten, I turned the handle and walked inside the room without hesitation.

  Well, I’m not quite sure what to think of this new turn of events.

  Neither was I.

  The room was completely furnished, and there wasn’t a voodoo doll in sight.

  “I thought you said that this room was empty and that it was basically a shrine for a voodoo doll,” Orwin muttered, walking past the armoire to where a beautiful four poster bed had been pushed up against the far wall. “Are you sure we’re in the right room?”

  Hoping beyond hope that I’d opened the wrong door, I backtracked a few steps to get a glimpse at the golden brass numbers. Once again, and far too many times to count over these last few months, my hope evaporated into thin air.

  We were definitely standing in room thirteen.

  “That’s odd.” Joshua must have decided to join us downstairs, because he’d appeared in the doorway. I turned in time to see him glancing around the room with curiosity. “Mother told us that this room was being renovated.”

  Dear hexed one, I have a feeling that Ms. Florence might have known more about her ghost problem than we originally thought. It’s my guess that this room was always furnished…even when we were inside of it earlier today.

  “Ophelia wanted us to see what the room was like years ago,” I murmured, still trying to piece together what had transpired earlier today. Everything surrounding us had seemed so real. Thinking back, we hadn’t touched anything for fear of disturbing the energy without having a way to channel it. Had we even brushed a finger over the voodoo doll, chances are the illusion would have dissipated into a misty ripple, eventually allowing us to see what was truly in front of us. “Why would she show us that particular memory from her past?”

  I presume it’s finally time to ask Ms. Ophelia ourselves. Are you ready to host your first séance, dear hexed one?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure there was nothing in Ophelia’s diary about visiting someone who practiced voodoo, maybe in New Orleans, or dabbling in it herself?” I asked Piper, though I made sure no one could overhear our conversation. “Ophelia is stronger than we originally thought. What if there’s a chance she is more than just a mere ghost? Have you ever heard of a wraith or a specter inhabiting an occupied dwelling before? Even then, I’ve never heard of either one having spell casting capability. Think about it, though. Ophelia made two witches and a familiar believe they saw something that wasn’t there. A phantasm of that strength takes powerful magical ability. We aren’t dealing with your average everyday novice ghost.”

  That’s an understatement, Miss Lilura. You should know that Mr. Emeric seems to have lost a bit of color underneath that five o’clock shadow of his. I daresay the man nor the wolf within him likes the thought of trying to prevent a poltergeist from taking another life.

  While Orwin and I had been upstairs attempting to convince Joshua to join in on the séance, Knox had taken the items he’d retrieved from the Land Rover and set them on a table in the middle of the great room. Afterward, we’d spent the last half an hour rearranging the furniture and stowing the knickknacks to ensure the upcoming event wasn’t hindered by inanimate objects flying about.

  As for Piper, she’d found Patricia’s personal diary in the family library.

  All resource and determination, that one.

  Once she’d had it in hand, she’d returned to the great room and went about lighting candles and setting the proper ambiance. She also burned the appropriate herbs in a plain porcelain dish to cleanse the room of anything that could prevent Ophelia from communicating with us, mindful not to use any sage to block the one entity we needed to speak with.

  We had one shot at this, because this agitated spirit was smart enough not to get caught out in the open and make herself vulnerable twice.

  I’m not so sure that Ms. Ophelia will fall for our trap in the first place, Miss Lilura. She is no one’s fool.

  “If Ophelia is as smart as we think, she already knows that this séance is a risk for all of us,” Orwin muttered, backing up Pearl’s supposition. He carefully lifted the lid on a thousand-year-old white oak box that we’d retrieved from a shaman before we’d begun this entire journey to find a cure. As a matter of fact, we’d accumulated quite a lot of unique and extraordinary items to combat the innumerable evils drifting through the supernatural realm. White oak, with the proper runes carved in the lid of the box, could snare nearly any non-corporeal being. “We’re as prepared as we’re ever going to be.”

  Shall we get this séance started then, dear colleagues?

  Not yet, but soon.

  I wanted a little more time to gather some intimate details on Ophelia. One never knew what could come in handy during communicating with the dead.

  Faye, Izzy, and Joshua were all sitting on the couch, all but ignoring one another. Gertrude and Wilbur were on the loveseat across from them, sitting stiff as boards. Orwin had stood next to Wilbur for less than twenty seconds before signing to us that the man did not kill his employer. Orwin divulged to us a bit later that Wilbur actually couldn’t wait to leave this manor and the people inside of it, because he was totally convinced that they were all completely insane.

  Mr. Wilbur wouldn’t technically be too far off the mark.

  “I skimmed through the pages, but I didn’t find any mention of a voodoo doll,” Piper responded distractedly, turning another page. She’d parked herself in the overstuffed chair to get through as much of Patricia’s diary as she could before we began the main event. “I’m reading about the passing of her mother now, which happened just as Eugene had described in his journal. What I do find interesting was Patricia’s overall opinion of her father. Apparently, he was quite obsessed with maintaining the Ashton estate and the fortune that came with it. He was a workaholic, barely spending any time with the family. The only one who could get him to leave his office was Ophelia.”r />
  A discreet cough came from one of the Ashtons.

  That would be Ms. Faye, using the proper etiquette to gain someone’s attention.

  “Do we really need to have so many candles burning in here?” Faye inquired, her fixed gaze remaining on Knox as he began closing the curtains at my request. “The fire isn’t enough?”

  I’m rethinking her decorum. Clearly, she missed a class or two regarding rudeness.

  “Fire is an element of the earth, and therefore is considered a beacon for those spirits on the other side,” I explained, figuring this brief introduction to séances would allow Piper the time needed to find anything else hidden within Patricia’s diary. “The more flames we have calling out to Ophelia, the better.”

  “Isn’t she already here?” Joshua asked impatiently, clearly annoyed with himself that he’d caved under the pressure of curiosity and decided to join the group. “I mean, Aunt Faye insists that Ophelia tried to push her down the stairs. Isn’t that why we’re here? To carry on this charade and get our minds off the fact that Mother changed her will?”

  I’m throwing this out there with every good intention, but wouldn’t it be prudent for the Ashtons to come to some kind of truce? You, of all witches, understand the importance of a calm atmosphere. “Your mother and I—” Faye was cut off from explaining what had taken place between her and Florence before the matriarch’s death.

  “I know, I know. The two of you came to some sort of agreement and made peace with one another,” Joshua said, waving a hand in disgust. They all began carrying on as if there weren’t strangers in attendance. “Neither one of you seemed to care that you were throwing away my entire inheritance.”

  “Don’t you mean our inheritance?” Izzy said, leaning back against the cushion and crossing her arms in a defensive manner. One wouldn’t guess that she was in her forties. “You promised me that we would run the estate together.” “Well, thanks to Mother and Aunt Faye, neither one of us is going to be running the estate until we’re old and penniless.” Joshua switched his frustration from his family to me. “Is this farce really necessary?”

  It was only a matter of time before one of the Ashtons turned their frustration toward us, dear hexed one. I hope you are prepared to lay the groundwork for that calm atmosphere we were just discussing.

  I took a brief moment to center myself, fully prepared to do what needed to be done. There was no use trying to cast a spell to bring a family like this together, because then it really wasn’t of their own free will. Certain arcane charm enchantments could keep them from each other’s throats, but they all held animosity in their hearts for one another. That hostility weakened the spell’s effect and duration.

  There are times I don’t think I give you enough credit, dear hexed one.

  Orwin covered up his laugh with a sneeze, which was probably his repayment to karma for getting humor out Pearl’s witty comment. Piper was the smart one. She continued to leverage this time by delving deeper into Patricia’s diary. There had to be something about the voodoo doll inside one of those journals.

  “Mr. Ashton, what we do isn’t a farce,” I replied, sensing that Knox had taken up his position next to the hearth. The room was quite warm, given the many sources of heat, but that was exactly what we needed to happen in order to lure Ophelia out from hiding. She hadn’t shown herself once since her attempt to push Faye down the stairs. “Your mother didn’t believe our ability to seek out spirits was a farce, either.”

  Joshua compressed his lips and feigned fixing the sleeve of his buttoned-down dress shirt. He hadn’t bothered putting back on his suit jacket or tie, comfortable in being more casual with his folded cuffs.

  “I’m going to give you our thoughts on what’s been happening here, conduct the séance to reach Ophelia, and finally clear up what reason she would have to murder one of her descendants. After we’ve completed each of those tasks, the three of you are free to continue arguing over material wealth until your hearts’ content.” I’d make sure they understood the importance of a calm atmosphere after my speech, but I was hoping my words did the job for me. “The Ashton family tradition has been carried out over the centuries—the oldest child of the following generation is the one who inherits the control over business components of the estate.”

  “You’re not telling us anything we don’t know, Miss Lilura,” Faye practically scolded me, picking off some imaginary lint from her black dress.

  “Is there a reason you didn’t tell your nephew about the letter his mother left him?” I asked, getting to the heart of the matter. It was coming up on midnight. The witching hour only lasted until one. “I’m guessing you didn’t mention it because you wanted him to understand your sister’s reasoning. You want the admiration and respect of Izzy and Justin, but you’re afraid they won’t see past your previous mistakes the way Ms. Florence came to during those six months you stayed here with her.”

  Faye was doing her best not to make eye contact with Izzy and Joshua. I could tell Izzy was a bit lost, so I caught her up to speed hoping that the truth didn’t come out.

  “Izzy, your mother left both of you letters to be given to you during the reading of the will.” While I continued to try mending fences, Orwin finished setting up the room. “In those letters are the reasons for her choices, and also the explanation of how the stipulation on her new will shall be carried out upon Faye’s death.”

  Orwin came up behind me and whispered a detail that put things in a new perspective. Faye’s inner fears had risen to the surface, allowing him to catch her most vulnerable thoughts.

  That is quite interesting, and actually explains Ms. Faye’s behavior. I guess I shouldn’t be so harsh to judge one’s decorum without fully knowing all the facts.

  “You see,” I said, directing my next statement toward Izzy and Joshua. “Your aunt wasn’t fully convinced that your mother’s death was an accident. The reason Ms. Faye asked you to leave for the weekend and return on Monday was for fear that one of you might actually try to take her life…thus returning the estate back into Joshua’s hands.”

  “How did you—” Faye’s dismay was cut off by her niece.

  “Wait a second,” Izzy exclaimed, straightening from her slouching position and staring at her aunt in horror. “You thought we’d try and kill you? How could you think we would do something like that? Do you truly believe we’re that terrible of human beings?”

  Well, isn’t this an unexpected turn of events? I’m beginning to feel sorry for Ms. Izzy. Her horrified reaction says it all.

  “You have to understand that I was just looking out for myself,” Faye defensively added, resting a hand against her chest. “I knew how the two of you would react, and I…well, I might have overreacted after all that’s happened.”

  Alien hunter, I hope you know that all of our bantering is in good faith.

  Pearl was attempting to ease Orwin’s mind about all the pranks they’d pulled on one another, reassuring him that she would never truly follow through on her teasing threat to send messages to beings in outer space all but saying that he was a prime individual ready to be abducted.

  “Hey, I never believed that,” Orwin muttered in my ear as he walked behind me to join Knox near the hearth.

  Don’t let him fool you, Miss Lilura. He believed every word. I had him going there for quite a while, but after witnessing this debacle of a family…I thought it was time to clear the air.

  “Wow.” Joshua ran a hand over his face in disbelief. “What did we ever do to you that you would think we were capable of such an evil act?”

  “There have been a lot of strange things happening in this house that I couldn’t explain, and I didn’t believe your mother when she tried to tell me this place was haunted by spirits,” Faye explained, hesitantly glancing toward the French doors that we’d let remain open. “I figured those strange noises and haunting moans in the middle of the night were staged to scare us. The only thing that made sense to me was that she’d told one
of you about the will, and that you were trying to drive me out of this place with some crazy ghost story.”

  “Ms. Faye is right about the strange noises and haunting moans,” Gertrude fessed up, finally joining in on the conversation. She snuck a glance toward Wilbur, who reluctantly nodded a confirmation. “It took me a while to figure out it was Ophelia, just as Ms. Florence said. She calls for her husband almost every night.”

  “Did you really feel Ophelia push you, Aunt Faye?” Izzy asked quietly, tentatively reaching out to hold her aunt’s hand. Faye’s astonishment at such a comforting gesture was evident. “I’m so sorry…for everything.”

  I’m beginning to understand why you taught psychology, dear hexed one. Very well done. I couldn’t have done better myself.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to use what I knew on the subject on a troubled spirit. Speaking of that particular entity, there was a minor shift in the air. I couldn’t put my finger on the change, but a quick glance over my shoulder revealed that the others sensed it, as well.

  “Aunt Faye, I’m sure after we read Mom’s letters that we’ll understand her decision better,” Joshua relented, taking Izzy’s hand when she reached out with her free one. “I—”

  The flames of the candles began to flicker the moment Joshua began speaking, almost as if they were being caressed by a gentle breeze. By the time he was done, the air had begun to circulate in what could only be called a violent rage.

  Every single candle was extinguished, the journals Piper had balancing on the arm of the chair fell to the floor, and the French doors slammed shut with a deafening crash.

  It appears that Ophelia has something to tell us, Miss Lilura. We best not keep her waiting.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Everyone, please remain calm,” I recommended as gently and serenely as I could. It was quite hard to do when my heart was racing double what it normally beat in any given minute. “Ophelia will have trouble communicating to us what she wants without opening up some sort of portal to the other side. It’s more than apparent that she has something on her mind.”