The Ghosts of RedRise House

by Caroline Clark

  "Don't leave me."

  He nodded and turned to look at her. His eyes screwed tightly and full of tears, his jaw was clenched as if he were trying to prevent it from betraying him.

  Shelly finally understood. "Where you're taking me… you're frightened. You think it’s dangerous, and you're worried that I will be… that I will be trapped?"

  He nodded and lowered his eyes to the ground, refusing to lift them again.

  Shelly dropped to her knees beside him, and with her hand, she tried to lift his chin. Her fingers felt nothing but cold moisture and a slight electric charge. For a moment the boy wavered, stepped back, but then he was there again. With a shrug of his shoulders, he apologized.

  I know where Jack is, the words were inside her head. The voice wavered, and she could hear the sound of him swallowing. Don't follow me, don't go to him or they will have you, too.

  Shelly nodded.

  You made a promise… keep it.

  Warm tears flooded into Shelly's eyes, she swallowed hard to fight the lump in her throat. "I have to find him, no matter what."

  Then you won't send me to the good place... you won't be able to.

  "I will, I promise... or you could just tell me where he is and I will..." She couldn't remember the words, couldn't even remember the wording of the releasing ritual she had promised she would use. "We can go back to the room, and I could release you now."

  For a moment he stepped from foot to foot like a young child desperate for the bathroom.

  Despite the terrible situation, it brought a smile to Shelly's face. His childhood had been a living hell. He was still in a living hell, and had been for possibly centuries, and yet he was still a young child. She had to let him go, and as she had that thought, the majority of the releasing ritual came back to her, and she understood. If she said it with intention, then he would be freed.

  "I can do it. I can let you go. Just tell me where Jack is?"

  He looked up at her, his eyes bright. Tears had cleaned two tracks down his dirty face, and his rosie lips quivered. I can't. They won't let me. They will hurt me.

  "I won't let them."

  At this, the little boy shrugged his shoulders and Shelly understood. He knew she had no power. He knew that she was powerless to help herself, let alone him or Jack.

  Once more she looked at the door and the possibility of escape. It was so close and so tempting. No, she wouldn't be beaten. She came here to pass a message to the sister she had lost. The one who helped her escape a burning vehicle. The one she couldn't save. The one who helped her after she was dead. All she had wanted to do for the past six years was to tell her sister she was sorry — that was why she was here. It had been foolish and selfish, and it had gotten her best friend killed. However, she would follow this boy to wherever he lead. She would find Jack, even if it meant she would join him.

  "I understand we are heading into danger, but would you take me to him?"

  The little boy nodded. He shimmered out of existence and then back in a few feet away. Then he walked slowly toward the kitchen. The closer he got to it, the more translucent he became. She was losing him.

  Shelly rushed to the kitchen to see him disappearing into a wall... and he was gone.

  Racing to the wall, she ran her hands over the surface. There was nothing, nothing to let her in. So, she knocked on the wall from top to bottom, left to right trying to find an area that was hollow, trying to find an area with a knocking sound that was different, but there was nothing.

  At her left was the door, the one with the notice on it telling them to keep out. That had to be where he had gone, and yet looking at the door filled her with dread. It would lead down into a cellar, it would be darker than this room. It would be a dungeon of terrors and fear, and she doubted she would escape it alive.

  It didn't matter. She had to go, so she walked over to the door and grasped onto the handle. It was cold. A slight shock tingled her fingers as she touched it but try as she might, she couldn't turn it. Pulling, pushing, and wrenching at the door did nothing. Frustrated, she kicked the wood. Shock raced through her toes like she had kicked solid concrete. Pulling back, she let out a cry of frustration and pain and sank to the floor. Tears of despair and defeat enveloped her.

  She had failed her sister. She had failed Jack, and now she couldn’t escape this house and would soon become its next sacrifice. Then a thought crossed her mind. She could stop anyone else from suffering. She could burn it to the ground.

  For a few moments more she let the tears come, let them wash away her despair. As she cried, she didn't notice that it was getting lighter and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. As she looked up, she felt her heart break.

  67

  "Relax and seek out the godly one!" Jesse paced toward the overgrown garden and then back to the house. "Dammit, Sylvia, what do you mean, seek out the godly one? I don't understand you. Why won't you help me?" His hands were raised in the air beseeching the spirit to come back. To explain. To do anything that would make this easier for him. Once again, all he had gotten was riddles and questions but never any answers.

  "She means the priest," Gail said.

  Jesse couldn't hear her. He was locked in his own mind trying to fathom out a solution to the problem, and he let out a yelp as Gail touched his shoulder.

  "Hey, it's just me," she said, and smiled as he grimaced at his own twitchiness. "The godly one? Sylvia I presume?" She raised her eyebrows.

  Jesse nodded.

  "She’s talking about the priest. Relax... I'm pretty sure she told you to relax and try to connect with him like I connect to the spirits."

  Jesse clenched his fists in front of his face trying to express the frustration. It was no good. "I understand that, but I don't understand why she thinks I can. We both know I lost my gift... I can't communicate with spirits. That's why you're here. When she told me to use my power, I thought she meant you... yet every nerve in my body is telling me not to let you try this."

  Gail walked up to him and took his hands, lowering them down and holding them tightly. "I know, and I know how hard you tried to reconnect with your gift. Maybe this is different. Maybe Sylvia knows something, and maybe, just maybe you should trust her."

  “That’s a lot of maybes.” Jesse smiled and took strength from her touch. "I guess I’ve got nothing to lose. I tried every trick I know and we’re not getting in there. The spirits are too strong, too many."

  "Then let's do this. Let's see if you can connect to Nick, and let's see if that's the answer."

  For a moment, he pulled her into his arms and gained strength from the support and love she offered so freely. All the years they had been together, Gail had never believed, and yet she had never doubted his belief. She had never chastised him for believing or for the search that he made. She was his rock, his heart, and his soul. She had been perfect for him, even when she didn't believe. But then last year, when she finally saw a ghost, and was finally converted to a believer, she became just the most amazing person ever.

  Still, he didn't know what to do. When he had seen spirits as a child, it had taken no effort. They were just there. At first, it was very scary, but then, as he got to understand them, the excitement, the buzz of seeing them became like a drug.

  Then after the death of his grandfather, he lost his talent. Once before Sylvia had told him that it was guilt holding him back. He didn't believe that. Yes, he had been the cause of his grandfather's death in a very roundabout way, but he understood, he had been just a child — it wasn’t his fault. So why would that cause him to lose his talent?

  Gail squeezed his fingers. "Hey, you can do this. I’m here if you need me."

  Jesse nodded. She was right, this was not the time to be worrying about the past. The present was all that mattered. Saving the young Ghost Hunters was why he was here. He would try anything, even if he didn't think it would work, to make that happen.

  "Okay, I’m ready."

  He squeezed her fingers once m
ore and then pulled his hands free, shaking them out before him and jogging on the spot for just a moment. He looked a little bit like a runner limbering up for a race, but the idea was to free his muscles and to release tension. The movement would help relax his mind, as well as his body. When he felt as if he was as relaxed as he was going to get, he stopped and closed his eyes.

  With them closed, he took in a long slow breath counting to six as he breathed in. He let it out to the count of seven and then breathed in to the count of seven. Holding it for a full three seconds, he let it out to the count of eight and then breathed in to the count of eight. This time he held it for four seconds and then as he let it out, he let his whole body and mind relax and he searched for Nick's mind.

  At first, there was nothing just darkness and that feeling that he should be doing something. The monkey brain was nagging, trying to regain control. He shut it down quickly and thought of nothing but Nick. He imagined the priest in his head, his brown hair, the old-fashioned suit, the dog collar. Soon he had a picture of him standing in the small clearing next to the crumbling gravestone. Nick was looking away, his shoulders slumped, his body a picture of defeat.

  Jesse didn't know whether this was working or whether it was just his imagination, but he pushed his mind out and tried to communicate with Nick.

  The priest jumped and turned around. The look on his face was of annoyance and fear, but he hid it quickly and replaced it with the calm, stoic exterior that Jesse was used to seeing.

  "I need your help," Jessie said.

  Nick shook his head and started to fade. Soon he was nothing but an imprint, a faint shadow against the blackness of the trees.

  "Then explain it to me," Jesse said. "If you won't help me, then have the decency to explain to me why you would let those two die."

  As well as talking, he was projecting his mind toward the priest. It was a strange sensation and something he didn't totally understand. But as he did it, he was no longer standing next to the house - he was there in the clearing and standing next to Nick. Something told him to reach out and touch the spirit. His logical mind laughed at the idea. Nick was incorporeal, he couldn't touch him. Still, his projected body reacted and reached out, grabbing hold of the priest's arm.

  Jesse was as shocked as Nick when he took hold of his arm and held him there.

  "I… I don't believe this."

  Nick's eyes were wide, Jesse knew that he didn't either. There was no time for wonder they had to move quickly.

  "Explain to me, show me why you won't help." Jesse didn't know why he had said that. The words just came into his mind and were out before he could even think of a reason.

  Nick threw back his head. His skin melted away leaving nothing but a skull. The jaw opening in a scream of eternal anguish.

  Jesse was flooded with feelings of fear, anger, terror, disgust, and more. It was so strong, it dropped him to his knees and then he was no longer there. For a moment, he thought he had lost the connection that he was back in his own body, back at RedRise House. But as he looked out, he realized he was connected to the priest in a much deeper way. They were joined. He was inside the man's head and seeing through his eyes. At first, he was just looking at the clearing, at the grave, and he felt intense sadness, but more than that, there was despair and guilt. He knew people had died because he hadn't saved them, and it was eating him up inside.

  Everything flashed, then he was inside RedRise House. Though he had never been to the room, he recognized it from Rosie's account. It was the room, the cavernous room carved out of the ground that was hidden somewhere beneath the house.

  It was cold and he could hear the sound of running water, but above that, he could hear the sound of chanting in Latin. It was a sacrificial ritual. He recognized the odd words, but his mind wouldn't concentrate on what they were singing.

  He was pulled across the room toward a corner where a group of children and five adults was surrounded by four flickering torches. Fear weakened his knees and clenched tightly onto his heart. Fear was like an army drummer pounding in his chest as he walked closer and closer, until he could see over the backs of the children.

  They were surrounding a stone sacrificial altar. Held onto it by four cloaked adults was a young girl. She was dirty and thin and wearing a ragged dress. The fight had gone out of her. At one stage, the adults had pinned her to that bench, holding each of her limbs so she couldn’t escape. They didn't need to now… she was frozen in her own mortality.

  Jesse watched as the fifth adult who was smaller than the others, pulled a wicked curved knife from within her robe. He knew this would be Matron, the Old Hag, the spirit they had sent away.

  Jesse felt the pain slice through Nick's stomach as he had to watch that blade arch into the air and come hurtling down to rip out the throat of the young girl. Jesse watched as he tried and failed to stop the sacrifice.

  "I understand,” he said. “I know you had to witness awful things, but if you don’t help me, it will happen again."

  Images flashed before Jesse's mind. Like a torture film on fast forward, he watched a girl killed, a boy killed, another boy. Nick tried to stop it, but he wasn’t there. Was just a spirit. No matter how much he shouted, tried to fight, it made no difference. He couldn’t interact, couldn’t do anything but watch.

  One after the other they flashed up. Over and again he watched the horrific image of a child's life ripped from its body. And each time it happened, the child joined the ranks of those tormented creatures stood around the altar. Nick felt their every emotion: their fear, despair, and eventually, their acceptance as they knew it was inevitable. That was the worst emotion. With that bitter taste in his mouth, he felt the pain as their throats were slashed. Their gasps for breath as the blood poured onto the stone. Their screams echoed through the night, and still, it wouldn't stop. Again, and again, and again he endured until he couldn't endure anymore, and suddenly he understood. Nick had borne it all, and he had been unable to stop any of it. He feared that he was a witness. Feared that they needed him for it to happen.

  Jesse closed his eyes. The images flashed through his mind. He dropped to his knees and retched onto the floor, and still it wouldn't stop. This was not a recording, it was real. He could smell the blood, hear the screams, and feel the fluids splash across his skin. It was like a never-ending loop, and he knew that if he didn't get out of it soon, he would go insane. Was that what had happened to Nick? Maybe that was why he was here.

  Once more, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting in one, two, three, four, five, six. The images were still there, but he forced them out of his mind, forced himself to concentrate on nothing but the counting. He breathed out for seven. Breathing in for seven, he managed to stop some of the images, managed to take back a little bit of control. Concentrating on the numbers one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, he breathed out.

  The altar and the figures had faded into the distance, and he breathed in to the count of eight. As he breathed out to the count of nine, he felt the breeze in his hair, and as he opened his eyes, he was back in front of the house, his hand clasped onto Nick's arm.

  He heard Gail gasp and knew that she had seen him. There was no time to talk to her, to explain. He had to do this now — before he lost Nick again.

  "I understand how you feel, but you are wrong. You are not the witness; you are the key. You can help me, you can save these two young people and when you do, you will finally rest in peace."

  For long moments Nick didn't move. The slight breeze ruffled his brown hair but his eyes looked empty. Jesse began to wonder if he had heard him. Then, at last, he looked up. There was hope in his eyes, and he nodded.

  68

  Shelly looked up into brown eyes and hair that were a match to her own. The face was younger, the nose not quite so prominent, the lips a little fuller. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt that it would explode in her chest, and hot tears streamed down her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but the lump
in her throat wouldn't let the words pass.

  Stacey, her sister, was finally here. She finally had the chance to make it right.

  It's all right, said the voice in her head, one she recognized. It's all right my beautiful Shelly, my wonderful twin. I know what you want to say. I have felt it from the minute you thought it. As I have also felt the torment you feel. I want it to stop. I want you to be happy and to let go of the needless guilt.

  Shelly reached out to grab her hands but her fingers went straight through. Her sister faded away just a little.

  "No, don't leave me. There is so much I have to say."

  You don't have to say anything... I have heard it a hundred times, and you owe me no apology. It was not your fault I died. Yes, you had to persuade me to go to that party, but that was normal, and as normal, I loved it once I got there.” Stacey shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “It wasn’t your fault that John had been drinking. It wasn’t your fault he lost control. And it wasn’t your fault that you were the only one that survived.

  Love and guilt swarmed around Shelly's heart like bees around a honeypot. They never stopped, never settled, never gave her time to concentrate on just one of them, and the emotions were overwhelming. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn't have time.

  "I… I want to tell you so many things but…"

  I know, Jack is in danger. I can take you to him, but I don't want to.

  "Why?"

  Because I think it is too late. You have talent. I couldn't have helped you that day if you didn't. Your agony at my loss called me back. I didn't save you… you saved me.

  "That's not true. I never would have got out of the car without you. I would have burnt to death if you hadn't opened the door."

  I didn't open the door. I’m a ghost, remember. You have tremendous talent. You moved that door, the problem is you don't know how to use that talent... not yet. If I take you to Jack... you may both die. Don't make me do that.