Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series)

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Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 4

by Melanie S. Pronia


  "You attract them, don't you? Like a medium or natural portal," he mused while snapping another photo. His voice was genuine with interest.

  "I don't know, but I guess that's what you could call it." Justine was dimly aware that it should surprise her that he knew that about her.

  Patrick smiled, shaking his head.

  "I'm jealous!" he stated enthusiastically.

  "Jealous? Why?" Justine was now intrigued. She had always thought her magnetism when it came to the paranormal was a rather frightening 'gift'.

  "And because that means you will go so much farther in this business than me." His eyes became somber, yet full of admiration for her.

  "Not necessarily. You've just got to learn to feel your way around. I can feel them. That's why I looked into the view finder after I snapped that window. I just knew. . I always do."

  "And you don't think that's great?" his voice was incredulous as if she was missing the point.

  "It's mostly scary! Everywhere I go, I “feel eyes”, see faces where they shouldn't be and hear things that aren’t visible. Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever truly alone."

  Again Patrick shook his head. Then dismissing their conversation, he offered,

  "Well, I guess we've covered our section. Let's go meet up with the other team members."

  The two of them walked back silently, side by side, each filled with their own thoughts. The thick green Saint Augustine grass padded their footsteps, making the trip entirely too quiet for Justine’s comfort. They were the last team to return.

  Patrick strolled over to Conroy, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Justine found us a ghosty," he blurted. Conroy turned his eyes to Justine who hesitantly extended the camera to him.

  "Very nice," was all he said after quickly glancing into the view finder. Handing the camera back to her, he turned his attention to the entire team.

  "Now we move inside. You all know the protocol, please be sure to help out Justine if she has any questions."

  Justine noticed that the homeowner's vehicle was gone from the driveway and assumed they had left for the duration of the Spectrum investigation. Justine felt sadly respectful, for them, knowing how frightening and awful the situation must be for them.

  The group slowly and somberly entered the home. To Justine's surprise the beautiful old home that looked so charming on the outside was in pure disarray on the inside. The mess, however, could not conceal the priceless antique furniture throughout or the home’s classical beauty and elegance. The front parlor, or what appeared to be more of a living room, had dark wooden trim against the cream white walls. Several of the windows were draped in real silk. The floor where it was unscarred was beautifully smooth. A huge imposing fireplace offered a homey touch as well as a handsome addition to the room, with its gray marble mantle.

  The furniture, some of it heavy wood, was strewn about as if someone had lifted and thrown it. It seemed like every piece of interior glass that Justine could see was shattered, some still littering the floor. One set of long, maroon curtains appeared to have been shredded behind a heavy maple armoire. The dismal and disheartening scene dampened some of the fun and adventure for Justine, as she again dwelled on how awful it must be for the family who lived in this home.

  Once the entire team had gathered in the front parlor, Conroy directed everyone to split up into their teams again, using the same procedure as before, digital camera for one, 35 mm for the other.

  "Well, where shall we start?" Patrick asked, his voice once again carefully smoothed over with charm.

  Justine noticed that the other two teams headed into the different rooms on the first level of the house. Her eyes rose up the stairs, and suddenly her entire body felt cold. She knew instinctively, that the entity, who claimed this home as its own, preferred to occupy the second floor. Swallowing back her fear, Justine looked calmly at Patrick.

  "I guess we head upstairs."

  The steps groaned under their feet with that comforting sound all old houses seem to make. Once they had reached the top step, the second floor jutted off into two separate wings. The hardwood floors would have shined lavishly if not for the thick layer of dust concealing their beauty.

  Patrick quirked up an eye brow.

  "Left or right?" he asked, pausing.

  "Well”, Justine replied, “left is emotional, instinctive while right is intellectual." A nervous giggle erupted between the two of them over Justine's lyrical words.

  "Right then?" Patrick proceeded without waiting for Justine's answer.

  The first room they entered was a small Victorian style bathroom with a deep, footed ceramic tub that called to Justine as it would to any woman. The clicking sound of cameras going off was the only sound that bounced around the room.

  They then proceeded further down the hall, stopping at a closed door with curiosity.

  "Oh, damn, I hate closed doors, you never know what's on the other side." There was a hint of anxiety in Patrick's voice that surprised Justine, due to his apparent lack of humility.

  She slowly rested her hand on the door knob, trying her best to ignore the cold chill that swam down her spine, and turned the knob nervously. It's just a door, Justine reassured herself silently.

  A wind seemed to grasp the door from her hands because it flew open violently on its own accord to an apparently non-existent wind.

  "Hey, slow down there, Swift! You're going to scare the ghost away," Patrick chuckled until he followed Justine's eyes, suddenly very large with alarm.

  Lying bound to a small twin bed was the shadowy figure of a man. They could see his wrists had been tied to the heavy wooden headboard. Although the ghost in bondage was frightening enough, both investigators cringed when they noticed the ghost's neck. There was a long, wide, crimson slice reaching from one ear to the other.

  Justine shivered against the cold energy that seemed to rush through the room in overlapping waves. Carefully she walked closer to the bed with Patrick staying so close next to her that their arms were rubbing. The ghost looked alive--so real and fresh. The only evidence of death was the deep gash in his throat but it looked like it had taken place only moments before.

  The face of this ghost was different, yet vaguely similar to the one Justine had seen earlier in the window. This man was younger and softer in appearance. Justine focused on his face while she took a picture of him.

  Patrick jumped and jerked Justine back when the entity’s eyes unexpectedly popped open. The gash on the dead man’s neck suddenly bubbled with bright fresh blood. His eyes were coal black as he smiled maliciously, a low growl underlying his laughter.

  Then, just as suddenly as the ghost had opened his eyes and smiled, he vanished. Both Patrick and Justine jumped, nearly knocking one another over when the heavy door at their backs slammed shut with a loud bang.

  "Oh, shit." Patrick's calm voice defied the panicked look in his eyes. He then glanced at Justine, who stood silent and frozen staring at the back of the door that had just swung shut.

  "Get out!" was scrawled in block handwriting across the door in a vibrant crimson.

  "Not a problem," Patrick said, immediately heading for the door.

  "Wait! Don't you think we should take some more photos of this room?" Justine eyed him expectantly.

  Reluctantly, Patrick turned around, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

  Quietly and quickly, the two of them snapped multiple pictures of the room. Patrick took a picture of the scrawled note on the door while Justine found a large closet and snapped several pictures of it as well after she had forced herself to open it. They then decided to continue canvassing the right wing of the upper floor-an exercise that proved uneventful. Justine found herself no longer charmed by the wonderful décor of the home, but instead just eager to finish their assigned section of the house.

  As they started to head toward the left wing, Patrick and Justine met up with Rich and Brian, who reported finding nothing conclusive during the search of their assigned area.
/>   Together, the four of them headed down the stairs to meet up with Conroy and the rest of the team who were all assembled in the large kitchen. It was a lovely kitchen which would have been warm and welcoming if the house wasn’t haunted.

  Conroy leaned against the marble counter, the pen in his hand hovering over a thick stack of paper.

  "This is the point in an investigation, Justine," he said for her benefit, "where I usually ask if we have a positive haunting. However, rather than ask the obvious, I would just like for each of you in turn to tell me what you found."

  Rich was the first to speak,

  "Although the place feels creepy, Brian and I did not come up with anything positive."

  Conroy's eyes moved on to Claudia, who stood attentively by Liz.

  "Well, there is definitely a lot of energy! The library seems to be a favorite spot for this entity as well as the dining room, but to a lesser degree." She glanced nervously over her shoulder into the dining room which was connected to the kitchen.

  Liz Continued,

  "My magnetic detector was going off the charts and I'm sure we'll find something on my EVP recorder."

  Justine slumped back and cursed herself, how could she have forgotten to turn on her EVP recorder, she wondered angrily at herself.

  Patrick stepped in closer to Conroy and smiled nervously, but with confidence.

  "Justine and I can definitely conclude a positive entity, two of them actually." He rushed, and then purposely attempted to slow himself down. He took a deep breath before he continued.

  "Second floor, right wing, second door on the right. There was a male apparition tied to the bed, his throat slit. I would have to conclude that it is indeed a poltergeist manifestation, due to the fact that it opened its eyes, the wound on his neck began to bleed as we watched, and the door slammed without so much as a nudge. The entity also left a kind little note on the door, in bright red, mind you, saying, “Get out!”

  Conroy's eyes moved to Justine to verify Patrick's answer. She shyly nodded at him.

  "Alright team, it's time to move in the equipment. Let’s get it done."

  It took the team nearly an hour to assemble all of the equipment and turn each device on. There were three computers, both digital and thermal cameras, a digital memory card reader attached to a printer, and an electro wave recorder with its monitor jumping into a frenzy the moment it was turned on. Sensitive Microphones were hooked into the flatbed Audio recorder, which was then connected to one of the computers.

  Conroy glanced around at all of the equipment, before smiling with satisfaction,

  "I need your infrared film, memory sticks or cards, and your team’s EVP cassettes, please."

  Justine pulled out her memory stick, and noticed that Patrick was handing over the cassette from the EVP recorder. She breathed in a silent sigh of relief and smiled at Patrick happily. She decided that maybe he wasn't so bad, after all, brains went a long way with her, even if they were tempered with a huge ego!

  Conroy, methodically cataloged the items. He then took them all back outside of the house. The team automatically stood in a semi-circle around Conroy, who was noticeably shifting from one leg to the other. Justine couldn’t tell it if was from nerves, excitement of the hunt, or just an eagerness to continue with the investigation.

  "Okay, team, what we have here is a very strong entity, more than one from the sounds of it." The team quietly listened, while Justine couldn't help but wonder if she was the only one who was frightened. Everyone else looked so . . . normal!

  Conroy directed his attention to Justine.

  "I need each of you to use your digital

  thermometers and go through each room of the house, one by one, recording each separate room as you go. I also need you to have your EVP recorders on at all times, and remember, anything you say, including personal stuff will be heard by the entire team once we go review the readings." Conroy winked mischievously.

  This brought a quiet chuckle from the team, breaking up some of the heavy somberness everyone was feeling.

  "Again, do not separate from your team member” Conroy reminded them, “It is absolutely crucial that no one goes off alone."

  The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful as Justine carefully took her recordings. She noticed the readings seemed to be unusually high in most of the rooms she and Patrick entered together.

  The house was like a dusty old treasure. In some places, Justine noticed priceless, handmade antique furniture sat proudly, while the carpet next to it lay in shreds. Although the windows may have once sparkled brightly with the afternoon sun, they were now darkened and discolored--almost saddened with age, it seemed.

  Eventually the home owners returned and stared with alarm at all of the machines and equipment crowded into their home. Justine watched as the young blonde wife leaned into her husband's side as tears burned her eyes. Conroy quickly discussed some prelim findings with them while everyone else quietly and quickly dismantled the equipment. Soon they had it all loaded into the back of the van.

  Short after, Conroy exited the house, looking preoccupied with his thoughts. He nodded curtly at the team signaling them to get into the van so they could return to the Spectrum building.

  "Once we get back to the lab, I'll need Brian and Rich to stay with me to help evaluate some of our findings. The rest of you will to be on stand-by, someplace you can easily be reached. If you do not hear from me tonight, report in tomorrow at 9:00 A.M."

  Once the team arrived back at Spectrum Headquarters, they again went through the routine of unloading their cameras, cassettes, and notes for Conroy. Then while Justine was reorganizing her backpack, she accidentally elbowed Liz who was standing beside her, reloading her own camera.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Liz." Justine smiled easily at her.

  "Quite alright," Liz quipped. Although the words seemed friendly enough, Justine thought she noticed an undertone of indignant sharpness, which she wasn't sure if she had imagined, or if she indeed had heard the voice inflection correctly.

  She smiled uncomfortably at Liz again before exiting the room, knowing full well that for some reason, Liz was drilling holes in the back of her head.

  Outside, Justine was happy to see her brand new Chevy Malibu loyally waiting for her. Justine popped the trunk and dropped in her backpack, wanting to keep any evidence as far away from her as possible for the moment. Just as she was turning to walk to the front of the car, she felt a sudden warmth on the back of her neck that was startling but also disturbingly pleasant in a carnal way.

  She turned quickly, to see sapphire eyes staring down at her, in a way that was almost hungry.

  "I would love to have you for dinner", Patrick said, his voice full of seduction.

  Uncomfortable with the innuendo and such a direct approach, Justine skirted around him. After all they hadn’t even know each other a day yet.

  "Can't, I have plans," she replied curtly.

  And she wasn't exactly making it up, either. She had decided earlier that after her shift she would head over to the library to do some research on Madeleine La Rue. She knew that her mind would not rest until that particular riddle of her first assignment was solved.

  "Ah, I see." Justine felt bad when she saw the surprisingly down-cast look in his eyes. It reminded her of a puppy who'd been told to go lie down and leave the company alone.

  Feeling as if she had to explain herself for his benefit, Justine explained,

  "I'm going over to the campus library to do some research on the case I investigated yesterday." She looked at him tentatively.

  Patrick smiled and said,

  "Yes, the infamous Timberbrook, I'd like to have a look at the place myself actually."

  "Really?”, still very proud of her first assignment with the company, Justine just knew that her smile was beaming hugely. What she didn't know was that the swift beauty of it blew Patrick away. Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation assaulted his heart, scouring his body while settling deeply wi
thin his soul. He knew in that moment that Justine would become very special to him. His male instinct told him to run while he still had the chance, and to do it quickly, but something about the warm way she smiled at him kept him rooted there.

  "Yes, I heard you had an interesting encounter at Timberbrook."

  "I did." It was not a question but a definitive statement. She wondered if he would elaborate.

  Instead he said,

  "Tell you what, have dinner with me, and I'll help you do some of your research, and then later in the week we could even check out Timberbrook together." His eyes were nearly sparkling, which instantly made her consider her own objection and the validity of it.

  Justine carefully evaluated the situation, albeit quickly, wondering if it was even appropriate to have a relationship with Patrick outside of work. It was finally his devastatingly sexy, lopsided grin that had her agreeing with him, and hoping she wouldn't end up regretting her decision.

  Chapter Three

  Justine had decided to follow Patrick in her own car, so she could easily cut out early if things got too heavy. She noticed, to her surprise, that Patrick was a safe, calm driver, so much so that she had to keep reminding herself to slow down or he might think she was a typical lunatic Floridian driver.

  Justine had been born and bred in Jacksonville. She had seen the city grow enormously from the time she was a young child. She was undecided, though, about whether or not she liked the recent 'big city' look and-mentality-that her home town had recently acquired.

  Patrick pulled into the parking lot of a cozy little Italian café on Jacksonville’s Westside. Justine would have happily settled for burgers and fries, just to keep the tone light and have a faster meal. She would have mentioned it, had she had the foresight to think about it. Italian food meant wine, and wine meant romance, which led to, oh, she didn't even want to consider the possibilities.

  Before she could even get her door open, Patrick was opening it for her. Suddenly she felt both underdressed and unprepared. Apparently, Patrick noticed neither as he placed his large, long-fingered hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the restaurant as if she were cherished royalty.

 

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