The Haunting Season

by Michelle Muto

  “I’m all right,” Bryan said, not looking even close to it.

  Gage put the cover on the shoebox and stood. Fine. He didn’t want to sit here, anyway. He couldn’t have concentrated if he’d wanted to. “Bro, it’s not worth it, okay?”

  Bryan leaned his head back and pinched his nose closed in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding. A small trail of blood leaked between Bryan’s fingers.

  “Suit yourself,” Gage said more to Bryan than Dr. Brandt. If Bryan wasn’t going to walk away from this, Gage couldn’t force him. Bryan had wanted to try it just one more time—to prove to himself he’d actually made the knives vanish. Maybe Bryan would listen to Jess, but even then, he doubted it. Bryan had pretty much stepped aside when it looked like she and Gage might hook up.

  Dr. Brandt handed Bryan a napkin. Bryan held it to his nose. “Really, I’m fine,” he finally said. “Doc Brandt is right. I think this is important right now.”

  “Sure,” Gage said in disgust as he started to walk away.

  “You forgot your book,” Dr. Brandt said.

  Gage turned and snatched the book off the table. “Call me when Bryan has an aneurysm.”

  “Dude, I’ll be fine,” Bryan insisted.

  “Yeah, whatever, man. I’ll catch up with you later.” He headed for the door again.

  “Gage!” Dr. Brandt called out. “Jess is practicing her channeling skills upstairs in the music room today. She’ll be by herself. Go talk to her. If you aren’t in the mood for your studies, maybe you’ll be in the mood for hers.”

  Was Brandt encouraging him? Or just pacifying him while Bryan bled to death at the dining room table?

  Bryan glanced at Gage. “Dude, if you don’t go, I will. Girls get all sympathetic over injured guys.”

  “Sure. Why not? You know where to find me.” He headed up the stairs, taking two at a time.

  Gage had to hand it to Brandt—only one thing had any possibility of taking his mind off Bryan for a while, and that was spending time alone with Jess.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jess sat in the middle of the music room floor and placed the Ouija board in front of her. On it, the illustration of disembodied heads seemed so creepy in comparison to the happier, glowing Ouija board she’d used a few years ago. In the top left corner next to the word YES was a picture of the sun, only with a man’s mustached and goateed face. The sun wasn’t quite smiling, but close. In contrast, in the upper right corner, the face on the moon appeared to have an annoyed or disapproving expression. Letters were arranged in arcs across two rows. Beneath them were numbers one through zero. And printed underneath the name were the words The Mystifying Oracle.

  Be careful, Jess.

  It was just a board.

  A witchboard. That’s what they used to be called before.

  What if Allison was right? What if she called the darker spirits in Siler House instead of friendly ones?

  “Are you going to do this or not?” she whispered aloud in the empty room.

  Taking a deep breath, she placed the planchette on the center of the board and lightly rested three fingers of each hand on the base. Staring at the open hole at the top of the planchette, she called out. “Gracie? Emma? Are you here?”

  No answer. No movement from the planchette. She wiped at her forehead. Despite the air conditioner running almost day and night, the room was sweltering. August was usually the warmest of the summer months in the South, and this year, it seemed determined to break all records. Back home in Asheville, the temperature would be nearly ten degrees cooler and at least there would be a breeze. The air in Savannah felt as stagnant and thick as the moss draping the oaks.

  Jess glanced around the room. “Could you guys at least cool it off in here a little?” The strong presence of a ghost sometimes meant a drop in the air temperature. “Gracie? Emma? Anyone?” She paused. An eerie silence filled the room as though the house were listening.

  On a whim, she whispered, “Grams? Dad?”

  The word seemed to hang in the air, expectantly. It’d been the first time she’d called to them since coming here.

  There was no reply, not a single word, not a breeze or solitary creak. Feeling foolish, she stared at the board. The moon and sun continued to smile and frown, respectively. The women in the bottom corners were still conjuring spirits. The planchette’s triangular shape sat on the board like some alien fly, patient and still. She tried to visualize the planchette moving, spelling out the words: I’m here.

  Your imagination. Your misplaced imagination.

  Admit they’re gone. Both Grams and your father are gone, Jess. They’ve moved on.

  No. They wouldn’t leave her. Not forever. Not without saying—

  Her eyes glanced to the bottom of the board and the two words written underneath the line of numbers. GOOD-BYE.

  The word rekindled a familiar ache inside her chest. Regardless of what the board was, or did, it was her best hope. The girls had promised to help, and they’d given her the board. That had to mean something. This was her best hope of being able to say those two words to her father. She desperately wanted to see him, tell him one last time that she loved him and wished him well—wherever he was.

  Dad. Grams.

  I miss you guys so much. You have no idea.

  It almost felt too good to be true. Was this all there was to it? To find an old board? One that had…aged? The board was old enough. Dr. Brandt had said that although it wasn’t the one Mrs. Siler had used in her séances, the planchette was. Ghosts and spirits often attached themselves to objects. If there were ever a fact guide for ghosts, she was sure that tidbit would be in there.

  And if it wasn’t fact?

  What if nothing happened?

  God, Jess. You really are losing it. You’re sliding down a slippery slope. It’s commercially produced, for heaven’s sake. There’s a trademark symbol—

  “Need an assistant?”

  The words broke her concentration and Jess glanced up to find Gage walking toward her. She inhaled deeply, regaining control, or at least the illusion of it. She adjusted her shirt, hoping the action would offer some relief from the heat. Despite the warmth, Gage gave off a cool appearance, even dressed in a sleeved shirt and jeans. She wondered if he ever broke into a sweat, and an image of his bare chest glistening in the summer heat made her look away and focus on the Ouija board instead. “Aren’t you supposed to be resurrecting a bird or something?”

  Gage grinned as he sat on the floor next to her, leaving barely a breath of air between them. Jess’s pulse picked up a notch.

  “Sorry. No phoenixes from the ashes today. I like the idea of resurrecting something, though. Like the other night?”

  Wow. Jess drew in a breath and struggled for something appropriate and witty, or even a little sexy, but not a single word formed. She could only stare, stupidly, like some silly thirteen-year-old with a celebrity fan-girl crush. Okay, so Gage was hot, but there were plenty of hot guys.

  None of which made her feel weak in the knees like Gage did. She forced herself to focus on the board.

  “You look like you’re in the middle of something else.”

  “No!” Jess nearly shouted. “I mean, I really could use some help here.”

  “So, then,” Gage said, and coughed.

  It was bad enough he was hotter than the seven rings of hell, but he knew the effect he had on her. Probably had a lot of practice.

  “I’ve never done this before. What should we ask it?”

  “I think we’re supposed to put the board between us,” Jess replied somewhat reluctantly. Not that she wasn’t up for trying to work the board with him right by her side, but supposedly, that’s not how the board worked.

  Gage scooted across from her, sitting cross-legged, and positioned the board across their knees. Jess scooted in until her knees touched his and placed her fingers on the planchette. Gage did the same, letting his fingers rest against hers.

  Breathe, stupid. He’ll think
you’re a clueless idiot.

  “Ask away.” Gage’s eyes met hers. “Ask if it knows where Riley is right now.”

  Jess returned her focus to the board and concentrated. The question wasn’t her first choice, but it’d do. “Where is Riley right now?”

  The planchette moved over the letters slowly, their fingers floating along with it.

  H O U S E

  “Did you see that?” Gage asked.

  Jess nodded. Shocked, it was all she could do. She’d hoped that the board would work, but seeing it in action was something else entirely.

  “Ask it something else,” Gage urged.

  “Is Riley in this room?”

  Again, the planchette moved across the board.

  Y E S

  Jess’s heart began to race. She glanced at the mirrors the Silers had installed along the walls, but Riley wasn’t in them. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be in here. Not with all these mirrors.

  “Ask it about demons. Ask the board about Allison.”

  Jess wondered if it was a wise thing to do, but nodded. “Are there demons here?”

  For a moment, the planchette didn’t move. Slowly, it spelled out an answer.

  S O O N

  Jess sucked in a breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Which ones?” Gage asked, solemn, as they exchanged glances. The planchette didn’t move for him.

  Resisting the urge to wipe her sweating palms on her shorts, Jess repeated his question. “Which ones?”

  The planchette moved up, then down, creating a figure eight over and over again.

  “He wants to channel a specific demon,” Allison said as she walked into the room.

  Jess and Gage looked up from the board, surprised. The last place Jess figured Allison would venture into was a room with a Ouija board. The planchette stopped its repetitive figure eights.

  “What are you doing here?” Jess asked. “I thought you didn’t want any part of this.”

  “I don’t.” Allison inched carefully closer as though the board might suddenly lunge for her.

  She nodded toward the board. “But he does.”

  “Who?” Gage asked. “Who wants to channel a demon? Riley?”

  Allison nodded again. “Yes. A really bad one.”

  Gage frowned. “They’re all bad, Allison. Which demon?”

  “The one who possessed him when he was alive?” Jess guessed.

  Allison nodded once more.

  “Well,” Gage pressed. “Does the demon have a name?”

  The planchette began to vibrate on the board, although neither she nor Gage was touching it. Jess swallowed hard, trying to keep down the fear building inside.

  This was so not a good idea.

  “They all have names,” Allison replied shakily as she eyed the board. Jess had no idea how Allison was still here, why she hadn’t turned and run by now. “I’m not doing that, by the way.”

  “Does the demon have a name?” Gage asked. If he was frightened, he didn’t seem like it. “What or who are we dealing with?”

  The question finally broke Allison. “Don’t ask for its name!” she shrieked. “Never ask for a demon’s name when using the board! Never!”

  As if feeding from Allison’s outburst, the planchette resumed figure eights again, faster and faster.

  “See what you’ve done?” Her face had gone completely white.

  The board rattled slightly.

  “Allison,” Jess said quietly, trying to calm her. The board was feeding off their energy. It was all Jess could do not to push the board away from her, but that might upset Allison even more and if the board was feeding off her emotions, that wouldn’t be good.

  Allison backed up a few steps. “Now you’ve done it.” Tears began to flow down her cheeks, but at least her voice had returned to its normal pitch. “They’re angry.”

  “Who?” Jess implored. “The demons? Riley? Who?” She could only stare at the board now.

  “Make it stop!” Allison demanded. “Jess, just make it stop. Tell the board good-bye!”

  The planchette continued its figure eights. It took all her will not to get up and run.

  She’s right! Tell it! Tell it!

  “I don’t know much about Ouija boards, but I think Allison’s right,” Gage said. His eyes were wide now, all pretense of calmness gone.

  “Good-bye,” Jess said weakly.

  The planchette didn’t stop.

  “What do you know about all of this, Allison?” Gage’s eyes were focused on the board as if it were a venomous snake. “What’s it doing?”

  Allison shook her head. Her voice was quiet. “You won’t believe me. No one would.”

  How could Allison be calm all of the sudden? Because that is what Allison did. She shut down. She’d found someplace to hide within herself and she wasn’t coming out until she felt it was safe again.

  “Try me,” Gage insisted.

  “I shouldn’t have come up here. I knew it.” Allison took another step back. “Something’s wrong with the board.”

  “You think?”

  “He’s not alone,” Allison announced as she stopped at the doorway. One of her shoelaces on her sneakers had come untied, but she didn’t seem to notice. Allison wasn’t home.

  “Riley isn’t the only one here,” she said, eyes glassy. “We need to go.”

  That was all Jess needed to hear. The time for false bravado had passed. She scooted backward, letting the board fall to the ground. Gage followed her lead. The planchette clattered to a stop, still on top of the board. With a quick jerk, it returned to its center, however. Jess yelped. The board vibrated a few beats as though some epic struggle was going on for control of the planchette.

  Finally, the planchette began to move, gliding slowly over letters.

  J E S S

  Gage grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

  Again, the planchette abruptly returned to the middle before hovering over three more letters in quick succession.

  R U N

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next afternoon, Jess and Allison sat under the shade of the oaks while the boys tossed a football. Jess hated the nearly unbearable heat and humidity. Yet, discussing the house, the project and the Ouija board incident seemed safer to do on the back lawn than sitting in the Great Room—however wonderfully air-conditioned that might be. The maids were in today, and the painters were finishing up in some of the guest rooms.

  Catching Gage’s throw, Bryan paused, wiping his forehead. “You’d think with a house that size the renovations would’ve included a pool.”

  Gage peeled off his shirt, which almost made Jess forget about Riley and whatever else was going on inside Siler House. Almost.

  “We could leave,” Bryan said. “Call our folks and tell them to come for us.”

  Scowling, Gage shook his head. “Not mine. They’d remind me this is my best chance to talk with Ben. Besides, I made them a promise I’d stick this whole experiment out.”

  “I’ve tried,” Allison said. “But they won’t even take my calls.” Her eyes met Jess’s and she recalled their earlier conversation about how Siler House was drawing them all in. It was sick, like some dysfunctional relationship or addiction. Yet Jess felt helpless against it. It was happening to the others, too.

  “I’d never hear the end of it,” Jess said. “And my mom would harp on me to go back on medications.”

  “Better than being here,” Allison said.

  “It’s not so bad.” But Gage’s voice was far from convincing. “Well, if you take out the whole thing with Brandt and the history of the place and all.”

  “HA HA!” Allison replied sarcastically.

  “All I know is that I’m getting tired of practicing,” Bryan said. “Quarters, pens, books, junk from the basement. My headaches have headaches and I’m tired of all the nosebleeds, too.”

  He shrugged. “At least Dr. Brandt doesn’t seem interested in pushing us as hard. Yesterday and the day before
, he was so determined. All he did was tell me to try harder, to focus. Now, it’s like he doesn’t care if we practice or not. All he did this morning was walk around the house touching things. He’s acting like he’s in some museum or tourist shop.”

  Jess had noticed the same thing.

  “What about EPAC?” she asked. “Does anyone know if he’s talking to them?”

  Everyone shrugged or shook their head.

  “Well, no matter how you look at it, we’re still an experiment,” Gage said. “But I don’t think Brandt had planned to be another test subject.”

  Bryan spun the football in his hands. “You think EPAC knew?”

  “Dude, I don’t think anyone knew,” Gage replied. “There’s something really wrong with this place. EPAC and the doc thought we were going to be the only ones affected. They couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  Bryan ran a hand through his hair. “No wonder this place has been shut down for so long. So now what? What are we going to do about it?”

  “We’re here until Siler House and Riley think we’re ready,” Allison said.

  Jess forced herself to breathe. “Do you really think the house can keep us here?”

  Allison nodded. Then Gage, then Bryan. They felt the same way she did.

  “They call it Stockholm Syndrome,” Bryan told her. “It’s when captives start sympathizing with their captors. We know we should leave. But we also want to stay. We can’t explain why, but we do.”

  Jess glanced toward the gates, wishing she didn’t already know it was true—that the damn house really had trapped them. She suspected that even if they walked up to the gates right now, no one would be able to go through them. She hadn’t even tried. She’d been afraid since the Ouija board incident, and yet something about walking up to the gates scared her too. The house had gotten to them all. It should have been impossible, but then half of what they all were here for should be impossible, too. How had she ever loved this place? “So now what?”

  “We wait,” Allison said. “We wait until Siler house thinks we’re ready, or until it decides to kill us.”