Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls: A Ghost Hunter Mystery

by Victoria Laurie

  “So the phantom physically attacked you?” Heath asked.

  “Aye, I believe it did.”

  “It barreled into me the same way,” I said, feeling especially lucky to be alive and in one piece after hearing Bertie’s tale.

  Bertie seemed to agree. “You’re a very lucky young miss to have survived an encounter with that demon,” he said.

  “Did you ever talk to Jeffrey after that?” Heath asked. “I mean, did you ever ask him what happened?”

  Bertie appeared quite troubled by the question and he took his time answering. “I did,” he said softly. “But you must remember the effect the phantom had on his mind. I believe it caused him great mental distress and I don’t believe when we talked later that he knew what really happened in that castle.”

  “What’d he say?” I pressed. I needed to know what Jeffrey Kincaid had seen.

  “He said that he and Gaston had had a bit of a quarrel about the gold, and that Gaston had stormed off and Jeffrey could not find him, although he searched and searched the castle. Then, when he’d heard Gaston’s cries for help, he’d gone out of the main door only to encounter a terrible demon who stole his mind and murdered his friend.”

  I thought back to the crypts where we’d encountered Bouvet’s ghost, and the elder Kincaid’s account of what had happened suddenly didn’t wash with me. “Assuming there really was treasure at the castle, do you think that Bouvet would have told Jeffrey where the gold was hidden?”

  Bertie shrugged. “Gaston told me that he’d told only Jeffrey where he thought the gold was hidden, because he trusted his dear friend. He also promised me that once he found the gold, I would get a fair share of it too, even though I doubted its existence. As I said, both Gaston and Jeffrey were extremely generous friends and both of them fully believed the legend of the hidden treasure.”

  I turned and looked at Heath. Jeffrey’s story wasn’t adding up. “If Jeffrey knew where the gold was hidden, why didn’t he go looking for Bouvet there?”

  “Exactly,” Heath said, focusing back on Bertie. “Did you suspect that Jeffrey wasn’t being honest with you about what might have happened at the castle?”

  Bertie’s face became guilt-ridden and he looked down at his lap. “I must confess that I did.”

  I took a quick peek at my watch. The time was nearing eight o’clock, and I nudged Heath. “We have to be off, I’m afraid,” I said, getting to my feet. “Thank you so much for sharing that difficult story, Mr. Mulholland, and I’m so sorry, for all that you went through.”

  Bertie forced a smile. “Oh, don’t be sorry, miss. I’ve still managed to have a wondrous life. And I had time to turn all my adventures to faraway places into a successful writing career, so one door might have closed for me, but a window opened wide.”

  “You have a great attitude at least,” I told him.

  “Of course I do,” he said, and this time his smile was genuine. “I’m Irish after all!”

  A mere ten minutes later we had a copy of the blueprints to Dunlow Castle in hand. Bertie had attempted over and over again to convince us not to go back in search of our friend, but Heath and I were resigned. “We’ll take plenty of protection,” I told him. “This phantom is just like all other spooks in that it hates to be too close to a lot of magnetic energy. And we have magnets aplenty for our return trip.”

  Still, as we left him, he warned us for the tenth time to be careful. “It’s not worth your lives,” he’d said. “Just remember to get out at the first sign of trouble, and do your best to keep your wits. The phantom’s a devil for playing with your wits.”

  When Heath and I got back to the B&B, it was nearly eight thirty and Gilley was still tapping away on his computer with a cup of chocolate pudding and a few cookies beside him on the nightstand. I filled him in about what Bertie Mulholland had shared, and Gil leaned back against the headboard with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “What?” I asked as I was changing.

  “While you guys were gone, I took another listen to that tape from the crypts,” he said. “I don’t speak French, but I think that Bouvet’s ghost was talking about some sort of gift right before he started screaming.”

  I paused getting into my warm clothes to stare at him. “Gift?”

  Gilley nodded. “He says the word cadeau, which means gift or present.”

  “So, what? Kincaid gave him a gift?”

  Gilley nodded. “I don’t think what you heard was Bouvet opening the lid to one of the crypts. I think, after the count of three, you heard him open his gift from Kincaid. And then he started screaming bloody murder.”

  All sorts of synapses fired in my brain. “Holy shit,” I whispered.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Gilley said knowingly. “I think your friend Ranald was right. I think Kincaid brought that phantom to the rock because he wanted the gold all to himself, only the plan totally backfired.”

  I wanted to talk more about all that and bring Heath into the discussion, but a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table made me think twice about it. “I’ll fill Heath in on the way to the causeway,” I vowed, and shrugged into my long underwear, turtleneck, flannel shirt, thick sweater, and Gilley’s sweatshirt. When I was fully clothed, I asked him how I looked.

  “Like the Michelin Man.”

  I scowled and made a point of looking from the pudding in Gilley’s hand to his expanding stomach. “That’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

  Gilley’s jaw fell open and he immediately set down the pudding, only to then pick up a cookie and begin nibbling. “You know I eat when I’m stressed!” he shrieked.

  I held up my hands in surrender, already regretting the dig. “Yes, yes,” I said. “It was a poor joke. I’m sorry.”

  But Gilley only harrumphed and got up off the bed to rush into the bathroom to view his profile. “So my jeans are a little tight!” he shouted.

  I winced. Again, he can really reach those upper octaves. “Honey,” I said, gathering up my gloves, tool belt, messenger bag, and flashlight. “You look fine. I was only kidding!”

  I heard cabinet doors open. “Is there a scale in this bathroom?”

  Oh, boy.

  “Seriously! Someone get me a scale!”

  I tiptoed out of the room and went in search of Heath. “What’s going on?” he asked when I found him at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I called Gilley out on his recent weight gain.”

  Heath winced. “Ouch.”

  The door to our room flew open and Gilley’s head appeared. “I will settle for a tape measure!”

  I grabbed Heath’s coat and tugged him toward the door. “Time to go!”

  We exited before Gilley could start asking for a full-length mirror and jeans that didn’t make his butt look big(ger).

  Heath drove down to the water and I told him what Gilley had told me. “Then Bertie was right,” he said. “Jeffrey wasn’t being truthful with him.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “But where did Jeffrey get the phantom? And how the heck did he transport it to the castle without being attacked by it?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe it came from one of his gold mines,” I suggested. “As for how he got it to the castle, maybe it was encased in some sort of relic, you know, like how the knife we found at that hotel in San Francisco had that smoke demon.”

  Heath looked deeply troubled. “We should have Gilley check to see if the Kincaids had any mining interests in South America. Remember how Bouvet mentioned South America? Maybe he recognized the present as having come from there?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking too,” I agreed, already pulling out my cell to send Gilley a text.

  The moment we reached the shore and parked, I received Gilley’s reply. Reading the text to Heath, I said, “Gilley’s found Kincaid family mining interests in Peru, Chile, and Bolivia.”

  “It’s all starting to fit,” Heath said with a shake of his head.

  We got
out of the van and headed to the base of the causeway. For several long minutes we just stared at the waves rushing in and out. It looked so peaceful and quiet, completely beguiling to the task at hand. “At least it’s clear out,” Heath said.

  I grunted. “That’s something at least.”

  “Do you have the blueprint?”

  I pulled it out of my messenger bag along with a flashlight. “How do you want to do this?”

  Heath leaned against me and we studied the map.

  Castle Dunlow had three levels. The main level had the largest rooms with the main hall, the kitchen, the servants’ quarters, the corridor of rooms I’d been trapped in, and a fairly large section at the back of the keep for a church. The two upper levels held many smaller rooms for guests and the living quarters for the Dunnyvale family along with battle stations for the armed guards who lived at Dunlow and protected the keep.

  “I think we should start with the upper floors and work our way down,” Heath said after he’d taken a good long look at the map.

  “Why the upper floors?”

  “If Gopher was attacked by the phantom and managed to run for it, he might have tried to climb the stairs and hide out in one of the smaller rooms on the second or third floor. If he was frightened enough, he could have just stayed there, and by now, he’s got to be weakened after not having had access to food or water in a few days.”

  I felt a wave of guilt over the fact that my belly was full and Gopher might be starving somewhere. “That makes sense,” I said.

  “You ready?”

  “Hell no,” I told him. “But I’ll follow you anyway.”

  Heath grinned and pulled the straps of the backpack filled with magnetic spikes over his shoulders. I checked all his straps to make sure they were buckled and secure.

  “Whatever you do, don’t take your pack off,” I told him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “That’s not happening, even though this thing weighs a ton.” We had added all our remaining spikes to Heath’s backpack, and I could hear them clinking around in there as he walked.

  The two of us trekked onto the causeway and moved quickly and quietly across. When we reached the rock, we paused and surveyed the landscape. Nothing stirred in the cool night air. Without a word we made our way to the stairs, and I felt my heartbeat tick up a notch. I was nervous about encountering the phantom, and inside my gloves my palms started to sweat.

  “How you doin’?” Heath panted next to me as we climbed.

  “Okay,” I told him. “Nervous but okay.”

  “We should be fine,” he assured me. “We already know that the magnets work against the phantom. And we’re more than armed. It’ll probably allow us to go wherever we want tonight. I bet we even get bored after a few.”

  I wondered if Heath really believed the line of bull-crap coming out of his mouth, but I chose not to say anything. I figured we were each dealing with our fears in our own way, me by sweating and worrying about facing the phantom, and Heath by telling himself a big ol’ lie.

  When we got to the top of the rock, we both paused to catch our breath. Heath had had a tougher go of it than me because he’d been carrying a lot more weight. Still, after only a few breaths he tugged me away from the stairs. “I think we’d better steer clear of the edge,” he advised. “Let’s move in close to the castle.”

  We approached the dark ominous structure cautiously. From inside I heard a door slam, and wondered if that was the phantom, another spook, or our producer. “Should we call out to Gopher?” I asked.

  Heath shook his head. “Let’s wait to get inside first.”

  He led the way and I followed, periodically peeking over his shoulder at the copy of the blueprint he held in his hands. “This way,” he said when we reached the large hall.

  On tiptoe we crept to the stairs, and I realized I was trembling a little with fear and my teeth were clicking together. Heath paused and regarded me. “M. J.,” he said seriously. “You’ve got to pull it together. This thing enjoys making us afraid, and I think it’s actually attracted to that emotion. The less you express it, the more likely it’ll stay away from us.”

  I swallowed hard. “I can’t help it,” I admitted. “I am really scared, Heath.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted and he pulled me into a tight embrace. I was caught off guard by the move, but realized that I immediately felt better.

  After a minute he let me go. “How are you now?”

  I nodded. “A little calmer. How’d you know?”

  He chucked me softly under the chin. “You’re not so hard to figure out, you know.”

  I grinned. “I’ll remember that.”

  Heath motioned with his head and we started up the spiral stone staircase leading to the upper floors. We arrived on the second story, and had to hunt a little for the next set of stairs that led up to the third floor, but we were soon there and poking our noses into each and every room.

  I had my intuition dialed up to high, and was searching the ether for any sign of Gopher—but none lingered and our soft calls to him went unanswered.

  What was more, the entire castle felt still and quiet ... almost too quiet. “Have you noticed that not a single spook has shown itself or made any noise other than the slam of that door?”

  “Yeah,” Heath said. “And I don’t like it.”

  “Maybe it’s all the magnets,” I said, lifting one of the sagging sections of Gilley’s sweatshirt.

  “Maybe,” Heath conceded. “But I still think it’s weird.”

  We moved along and inspected every room, closet, nook, and cranny, but couldn’t find any sign of our producer.

  “Hey,” I said, seeing yet another set of spiral stairs. “Look over there.”

  “That goes up to the parapet,” Heath said after considering the map.

  “Do you think we should check it out?”

  He nodded. “We said we’d search the entire castle.”

  I followed after him and worked to control my breathing in the confined space of the narrow stairwell. “It’s thick in here,” I said, feeling a bit of the residual spirit energy still lingering in the air.

  “We’re dispersing it, though,” he said over his shoulder.

  A few more steps and we reached the roof toward the back of the castle. It was even windier up there than it had been below, and we could clearly hear the sound of the waves crashing into the rocky shore far below. Although it was dark out, the moon lit the water, offering an amazing view.

  “If this weren’t such an awful place, I’d love to come back here and see this in the daytime,” I said.

  But Heath didn’t comment as he was looking for Gopher. “Yo!” he called softly. “Goph! You up here?”

  There was no reply.

  “He’s not here,” I said, already turning toward the door.

  That was when Heath’s arm shot out to stop me.

  “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t reply, but merely pointed down and to my left. I leaned forward and peered over the top of the parapet. A monstrous black shadow strode along the ground just inside the keep, maneuvering up to a door at the very back of the castle, before darting back, then pacing back and forth for a moment before inching closer and closer, then suddenly leaping back.

  I held my breath and quivered slightly—hell, I even squeaked a little in fear. The phantom abruptly paused its odd sort of pacing, as if it had sensed my reaction in the ether, and Heath quickly wrapped an arm around my shoulders and whispered earnestly, “Push down your fear!”

  I gulped and thought about how similar he was to his grandfather. And that brought me a measure of comfort and I was able to calm my pounding heart.

  The phantom stood still for a few more moments, and I had the clear impression that it was attempting to feel the night air for any trespassers. How it had missed our arrival I wasn’t certain, but after a few tense moments it resumed its strange pacing dance.

  “Come on,” Heath said softly. “The quic
ker we search this place, the quicker we can go.”

  We took advantage of the fact that the phantom was outside and preoccupied with the back door of the keep, and as quickly and quietly as we could, we inspected every room on the second floor. At one point I suggested we split up to get through it faster, but Heath flat out refused. “No freakin’ way, M. J.”

  “It was just a suggestion,” I said, a little wounded.

  “Do you remember the last time we split up and you went off on your own?”

  He had a point there.

  We finished with the second story and there was nowhere left but to go back down to the first floor, where the phantom lay ... lurking.

  I could feel the goose bumps form under the many layers of clothing I’d worn, and I stood resolutely at the top of the staircase. “Jesus,” I whispered to Heath, who was standing beside me. “I sooooo don’t want to go down there.”

  “Remember to check your fear,” he warned softly. “No matter what happens, you’ve got to try and stay calm and be brave.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Better get it over with,” I said after exhaling, and I started down.

  We descended slowly and carefully, one cautious step at a time. My ears were pricked for any hint of the phantom. Upstairs I heard footsteps and creaking floor-boards. “The spooks came back out,” I said in a hushed voice.

  “They were probably just waiting for our megawatt magnets to leave the area.”

  “At least the phantom’s been keeping a safe distance.”

  “Let’s hope it lasts,” he said.

  But it didn’t.

  Just as I was beginning to relax a little, Heath and I rounded the corner of the last group of stairs and came face-to-face with one pissed-off poltergeist.

  Chapter 11

  “Jesus!” I shouted, and took a step backward, bumping right into Heath. My body knocked him off-balance and he fell back hard onto the stone stairs, howling in pain.

  Meanwhile the phantom itself backed up ten yards from us, hissing like a giant angry cobra before growling and spitting in our direction. I was so scared that I clambered past Heath, back up the stairs and shivered, closing my eyes and attempting to push away the images starting to creep into my mind.