by Terri Grimes
I raised my eyebrows as I leaned against the kitchen counter. “Human or non-human? I’m afraid to ask the difference, other than the obvious.”
“One was a human at one time and it has remained on this level for some reason,” he advised.
“Such as?”
“It may not know it's dead, or it may be held here by unfinished business or guilt. It could even be looking to reunite Aunt Sallie with her pearls hidden under the mattress.
“Are those types of spirits a bad thing to have?”
“Depends. Those spirits are just like the person was when they were alive, so they could be good or bad, just like the living. So if Uncle Jim was a bad ass in life, chances are he’s a bad ass in death.”
I held a hand to my churning stomach. “Great, a bad ass ghost. Just my luck.”
He reached over and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, they aren’t normally dangerous. Which is a good thing because this kind of human spirit is the type you will encounter eighty percent of the time.”
“And what about the other twenty percent of the time?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Residual.”
“Sounds like what we used to scrape out of the bong back in college.”
Sam tilted his head, his dark brown hair catching the light of the overhead fixture in gleaming streaks of chestnut. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding. We really did scrape the residual out of the bong. I don’t know what kind of college you went to but most of us worked one or two jobs in addition to attending classes full time, so we didn’t let anything go to waste. Not even the residual.”
He set his glass of iced tea on the counter and placed both of his hands on my shoulders, staring me straight in the eye. Closely. “Residue. That dark burnt tar substance you scraped out of your bong was residue. Does nothing for getting you high, but does a number on your lungs and kills a few brain cells. You were obviously an Indiana University grad.”
Setting my glass on the counter as well, I placed my hands on top of his and plucked them from my shoulders. “And you, obviously, were a Purdue grad.”
“Butler,” he replied with a hint of arrogance.
“Well there you go, that explains it.”
We glared at each other for several seconds. Hoosiers are nothing if not loyal to their alma maters.
Deciding to take the higher ground, I broke our stare-down by grabbing the glass of iced tea and draining it in one long gulp before slamming in back down on the counter.
“That was my glass,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, playing off my snafu. What else could I do? I crossed the kitchen floor in seconds, reaching into the fridge again, drawing out the tea pitcher and refilling Sam’s glass before handing it to him.
“It’s okay, I don’t have girl cooties.”
His eyes regained their twinkle as he leaned an elbow on the countertop. “I wouldn’t have minded a few girl cooties.”
A giggle bubbled from my lips like a bottle of champagne that had been shook. I tried to hold it back, but there was no stopping it.
He smiled in return.
“So tell me about a residual spirit. You mentioned it earlier and I don’t really know what you mean by that,” I admitted, both of us still grinning at each other like a couple of twelve year olds.
“A residual haunting is a playback of a past event. Just like watching a video playing over and over. It’s not really a spirit. Think of it as left over energy set on a loop pattern to play constantly.”
“Oh, I get it. Like summertime television where it’s all reruns, right?”
“You got it. The other type of spirit or more aptly, entity, you may encounter were never human and are generally bad news. The chances that you will encounter them in a regular ghost hunt are slim. Be aware of your surroundings, protect yourself and you should have no problem.”
“I don’t get it. If that other type of spirit was never human, what was it?”
He drained his beverage, setting the glass down on the counter with a thud. “It’s not referred to as a spirit. That entity or presence is an energy that has never walked the earth. It’s always negative and something to stay away from. That’s all you need to know because as I said, the chances of running into an energy like that are slim.”
A shiver ran up my spine and I shuddered. The fact that Mister Information wasn’t providing me details of this other spirit—err, entity—was freaking me out. It was apparent that this non-human type of energy, or whatever it was, freaked Sam out too. For the love of all that was holy, I said a silent prayer to God that whatever plagued my house wasn’t of the non-human variety.
“There are schools of thought out there that the—ahem—non-human type of entity is a fallen angel.”
“Angels can fall? How is that possible?”
“I couldn’t begin to say,” he said shaking his head. The motion caused a lock of hair to cascade over his left eyebrow. I stopped my hand from brushing the wayward strand just in the knick of time.
“I thought angels were from God.”
“They are. But even angels have free will.”
I pulled out a kitchen chair and plopped into it very unladylike, much too tired to care. It had been a long night and exhaustion was beginning to set in. My overworked muscles were protesting.
“So, what you are saying is that it’s possible I have a fallen angel in my house? A fallen angel that likes to sexually harass women.”
Sam laughed so low and sexy I had a sudden urge to kiss the chuckle right out of him.
Oh God, I must be tired!
“I am not saying that what you have is a non-human entity and I am not saying it isn’t. What I am saying is that at this stage in the investigation it’s too early to tell, but I do have a hunch that this could be an intelligent haunting with a dose of poltergeist activity.”
“So intelligent means a human ghost?”
He sighed raspy and long. “As I’ve said, intelligent could mean human or inhuman. The word intelligent merely refers to the fact that the entity knows you are there and is attempting to interact with you.”
He glared at me. “Do you understand?”
“Err, no, I mean yes. Um, okay?”
“How about we continue this conversation later today after we’ve both indulged in a few hours sleep.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said with a smile as I tried to stifle a yawn.
“I think I should let you get to bed now,” he said softly.
When he said ‘bed’, I felt a blush spread across my face. The memory of waking up in his bed was still fresh in my mind. I turned, busying myself with clearing the glasses.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. “Good night,” Sam said, removing his hand from my shoulder and extending it to me to shake. “I’m excited about this investigation. I think it will be a rewarding experience for both of us,” he said as I walked him to the front door.
“Me too.”
Then he turned and left.
As I watched the taillights of Sam’s van disappear down the street in the pre-dawn darkness, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion.
The initial investigation had taken longer I had expected.
Once in the living room, I flopped flat on my back onto the sofa, wearily pushing my shoes off with my toes. They dropped to the carpeted floor with a light ker-plunk. It was the last sound I heard until I woke at one o’clock that afternoon.
Ten
Rubbing my gritty eyes with the back of my hand, I attempted to stretch my legs. Groaning, I stopped in mid stretch as my muscles complained and said no more. Taking pity on them, I complied since I recognized them as the muscles I had strained from a full night of carrying heavy equipment and creeping around my large Victorian home in the dark, waiting for something, someone, to jump out and yell boo.
Okay, maybe I didn’t carry heavy equipment so much as I carried a flashlight and on occasion, Sam’s EMF meter. Nonetheless, my body w
as powerless to stretch further thanks to the sofa arms.
I resolutely shut my eyes and sunk deeper into the downy soft comforter as I drew its warmth around me. A minute later, I reluctantly poked one foot out from under the fluffy pink comforter. I could do this. One more foot met the early afternoon air, followed by legs and a torso. Sighing, I rose off of the couch and went into the downstairs bathroom, turning the water in the small shower stall on full blast. Steam billowed over the top of the shower curtain filling the small bathroom with the thick, foggy air.
Wrapping myself in my favorite fluffy pink robe after I toweled off, I went into the kitchen, sitting down with a cup of coffee and my cell phone. I punched in several digits, tapping my fingers on the table as I waited for the connection to be made.
“Hello, Gertie. Everything okay?”
“Of course, Sam. We never said what time we’d be meeting at Perfetto’s, so I thought I’d call to find out.” As I spoke, my mind was really saying, I couldn’t wait until tonight to hear your voice again so that’s why I’m calling.
“Is six o’clock too early?”
“That’s perfect. We’ll arrive before the dinner rush and still get out of there with plenty of time to start the investigation.”
“Great,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be agreeable to that time because I’ve already called Timmy and told him to meet us then.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I know you’re busy. I could have called him.”
“I didn’t mind. I had to talk to him about something else anyway so I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone,” he explained.
“What’s up? Is something wrong?”
His voice lowered and took on an apologetic quality. “Amanda can’t make it. She’s asked to bow out of this investigation altogether. So I asked Timmy to be temporary tech manager for your investigation.”
Was he freaking kidding me? Amanda was pulling a permanent no-show? “Are there any other team members that can take her place?”
“Amanda and I are a two person team. I don’t believe in having large teams tromping through a location, getting in each others way, contaminating evidence. You don’t catch anything that way.”
“Aren’t you concerned that Timmy and I will contaminate your evidence?”
“He regarded me for a moment before answering. “I wouldn’t have asked him if I didn’t know he could do the job. Yeah, I admit I usually investigate alone while Amanda runs command central, monitoring the equipment. But sometimes the homeowner is the reason an entity is present. I like to have them involved when that’s the case. From the very beginning I’ve had a feeling you are the reason this entity is making itself known.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Facts are facts,” he said resolutely.
It was beyond me why he kept Amanda on at Urban Ghost Hunters. She clearly didn’t like ghosts and wouldn’t go in any place that had even a hint of being haunted. Hell, on this investigation she wouldn’t even show up to run the mobile command unit Sam had set up in his van. It made me wonder what exactly she did for Urban Ghost Hunters. I was sure I was better off not knowing the answer, although my imagination spoke volumes.
Sam was at the restaurant when I arrived several hours later. He must really believe in promptness because my watch said we weren’t even scheduled to meet for ten more minutes. I was a great one to talk about someone being early though. Better early than late was my motto, and I hadn’t been late for an appointment since I was seventeen, a fact I was proud to admit.
“Been waiting long?” I asked.
“No, not at all. In fact, I just walked in. Timmy’s not here yet so perhaps we can have a drink at the bar while we wait?”
“Sure.” I agreed, trying not to recall the last time I sat in a bar with Sam.
After we’d taken a seat and placed our drink order, I pulled several sheets of paper out of my purse and spread them across the top of the bar. “I compiled data earlier today. This document shows areas where I’ve seen evidence of the presence most frequently, while this one details areas on the second floor where we seemed to have the most activity last night.” I pointed to each list respectively. “Notice how they correlate?”
“You’ve been busy.” Sam studied the papers as he held them in his hands. “And the third document?” He pointed to the lone piece of paper lying on the dark mahogany bar top.
“That’s a compilation of the areas you didn’t get to explore in your preliminary walk through last night.”
He picked up the third page and studied it intently. “Ah, the attic. Are you going to be okay with investigating the attic?”
“Of course.” I nodded.
“I have to tell you, no matter where the majority of the activity is in a residence, I can pretty much guarantee the attic will be a hot bed of activity. Are you going to be all right with that?”
“Yeah. It’s okay, I’m up for it.”
“Let me explain this a little more clearer, Gertie. I have no clue why this is, but the more negative energies congregate in attics. Benign ones tend to cower in the basement.” He blinked. “You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Oh, I understood what he was saying all right. I can live in a haunted house just fine, but when it came to investigating it, maybe I should stay in the kitchen with a frilly white apron, baking cookies. Yeah, right. He didn’t know me very well.
I took a deep breath, straightening my shoulders and throwing out my chest. “I told you, when the time comes for us to investigate the attic, I will be fine.” I stared him straight in the eye. “And I will,” I added.
“All right,” Sam said, looking like he didn’t believe a word I was saying. “But just keep in mind, we can stop at any time if you decide it’s too much. Deal?”
I gave a firm nod. “Deal.”
“Great. Now where shall we start the investigation tonight?”
I shut my eyes tight as my fingers circled the papers spread across the counter. “Here,” I said as I poked the paper with more emphasis than was necessary.
Sam and I looked at the spot where my finger landed. “Why did I know you were going to choose the attic?”
Oh God. Why didn’t I peek so I could have chosen the basement?
“Hey,” he said in a concerned tone, “we can choose another room. It doesn’t have to be the attic.”
“Not on your life, pal. The finger has spoken and the attic it is!”
“Okay,” he agreed.
“And furthermore, I think we should split up.”
“Split up? I didn’t know we were going steady.” He smiled.
I could feel myself blush. “The investigation. If we each pick a side of the attic to work we can meet in the middle, therefore cutting down the doubt factor.”
“I may be sorry for asking this, but what is a doubt factor? In all of my years of paranormal investigating I can’t say I’ve ever heard of the doubt factor.”
“You see, if we’re on the left side of the attic, I can almost guarantee we’ll hear noises on the right side. And if we are on the right side, we will hear noises coming from the left. This way one of us will be on either side of the attic at all times and can tell where the sounds are coming from,” I said with a triumphant finish.
“I thought this was your first experience with paranormal investigation.”
“In person it is. I watch television though. Do you know how many investigations I’ve been on with Jason and Grant and the rest of the TAPS members thanks to the power of television? I’m a bonafide number one couch potato paranormal investigator in my humble opinion.” I puffed my chest out with pride, hoping he couldn’t tell I was embellishing, having only seen the show twice. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted him to think I knew what I was doing, even if I didn’t.
He regarded me for a split second, particularly my thrust out chest, before his face erupted in a wide grin. “You might have a talent for this ghost hunting gi
g after all. That is a really good idea.”
I beamed at his praise. “And who says television rots the brain. Hah!” We laughed together.
~ * ~
Twenty minutes and two beers later and still no Timmy.
Sam looked at his watch for the third time in five minutes.
“Looking at your watch every two minutes isn’t going to get Timmy here any faster.”
“Oh yeah? What will get him here then? I’m fond of eating dinner at dinner time. The way it’s looking, we’ll be ordering breakfast.”
“Dinner at dinner time. What a novel concept. One I’m afraid Timmy never has gotten the concept of and never will.”
“Great,” Sam said in a dejected tone.
I was so used to Timmy always being late I never gave it a second thought. I should have cautioned Sam to snack on a peanut butter sandwich like I’d done late that afternoon. I felt bad for not warning him.
“I’ll give Timmy a call and tell him we’re going to order dinner now instead of waiting for him.”
Sam’s face brightened. “My stomach thanks you.”
“You’re very welcome.” I laughed, my face focused on the general area of his stomach. His midsection responded with a loud gurgle, causing him to laugh with me.
I searched in my purse for several minutes before I was able to locate my cell phone. There was a reason why friends referred to my purse as the black hole. Punching in a few numbers, I tapped my fingernails on the bar top as I waited for Timmy to answer.
“City Morgue, you stab ’em, we slab ’em.”
“Cute, really cute. The last time I heard that one I fell off my dinosaur laughing.”
“It’s not easy coming up with new material on the fly, Gertie. You should try it sometime instead of your same old boring hello.” His voice vibrated with a musical lilt as he mocked my greeting.
“Oh yeah? Well, you should try being on time occasionally, pal. Poor Sam fainted dead away on the bar stool from lack of food. In fact, he’s laid out on the floor right now in a low blood sugar coma.”
“Maybe I should head right over there and give poor Sam some mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate him,” Timmy said.