“Then let’s get going,” Dallas said.
Kristi hurried down the stairs; Dallas followed. She paused at the entry and turned back, thinking the miasma that haunted the place seemed to rise from the floor.
“What is it?” Dallas asked.
“I don’t know. Crazy, huh?”
“Nothing is crazy,” he assured her. “Well, a great deal in the world is crazy, but whatever you’re feeling...no.”
“You don’t feel it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not as strongly as you clearly do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he said. “There are those who remain who want to be seen by everyone; there are those who remain who don’t know how to be seen, and they have to try very hard, and perhaps reach out to someone they feel just might be the right one to accept them.”
Kristi drew a breath and threw open the front door. Out in the sunshine, she turned back to him.
“I think I’d have had myself committed to a padded cell, if it hadn’t been for you.”
His eyebrows knotted together. “Kristi...I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to come to me...because...”
She laughed. “Oh, please, Agent Wicker... I can’t believe you’re not aware of your many assets!”
He laughed. “Well, thank you, Miss Stewart. Since, as I said, I’ve been absolutely infatuated since meeting you in my arms...”
She laughed and hurried ahead of him. He followed, and then paused, looking back at the house.
“What?” she asked him, and stopped. They were on the square now, but looking back, they could still see the Murphy house, historic and beautiful by day, and still...
A haunting edifice to the past.
He looked at her. “I feel like we’re being watched.”
“I told you—there’s something there.”
He was thoughtful, and shook his head. “I don’t think we were being watched by any of the...dead. This is more real.”
“But we were in there—we didn’t see anyone. We didn’t hear anything.”
“Someone could have a key,” he said.
“I guess, but I didn’t even know that key was in my house—not until Jamie told me,” Kristi said.
“Still, you run a bed-and-breakfast. People are free to enjoy the house—you’ve made it very open. They’re welcome to get water or make coffee at any time, right?”
“Well, yes, but someone is usually always around. Genie and Sydney... Jonah. Someone is always around.”
“Easy to slip into the kitchen, find the key, chat with someone and slip out—and then return the key once it’s been copied.”
“I guess—but why?”
“Have you had any strange or unusual guests or visitors?”
She gave him a perplexed and even slightly aggravated look. “Sometimes it’s quite difficult to define strange or unusual. But I don’t think so—why?”
“Because there is something in the Murphy house,” he said softly. “We just have to figure out what the hell it is.”
* * *
Ghosts were big business.
One of the major networks took a poll a few years back, and they’d learned that at least 50 percent of the population believed in ghosts, and thought they had seen a ghost or been touched by a ghost in some way.
That made it natural that Shelley Blake’s séances should be a very popular occasion, and natural that a rising young star like Carl Brentwood—with his amazing social media platform—might well want to record a séance in a city like Savannah.
Kristi and Dallas arrived back in plenty of time for the pre-séance tea and cocktail hour. Carl Brentwood was somewhere right around twenty-one, but he had opted for tea. Of course, this was his business, and that he took it so seriously, Dallas thought, was admirable. But he’d liked the young man in general; he was boyish and upbeat, and always courteous and careful of the people around him.
Murray Meyer didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about what they were doing; while he was polite and respectful, he had a weary attitude about him most of the time, as if the business had done it’s work on him, making him jaded—a “show me the money” man.
Claire Danson, on the other hand, seemed almost as excited at Carl.
“You can’t imagine the power of social media these days,” she told Dallas, helping herself to one of Genie’s delectable little puff pastries.
Granger Knox told Dallas he was going along with the whole thing because of his daughter. “She’s so excited. I just wish... I kind of wish the kid wasn’t so nice. She’s getting a bigger crush on him daily, and there’s no future there. He’ll go back to Hollywood, and we’ll go home, too.”
Janet walked up while they were talking. She had heard her husband’s words. “But, Granger, my love, she’ll always have this! She’ll always be able to say she was in a video with Carl Brentwood. And how do we know? Maybe one day our little girl will be just as popular as Mr. Brentwood. She’s very serious about pursuing her acting career. And,” she added, smiling at Dallas, “she’s been accepted into the program at NYU.”
“Congratulations,” Dallas said. He’d noted that, as expected, Shelley had been talking with everyone during the cocktail party—which would, of course, make it easy for her to hone in on what her séance attendees wanted to hear.
Shelley suddenly spread her arms toward the heavens and spoke loudly.
“A full moon tonight, my friends—a beautiful full moon. The moon, of course, has powers, you know.”
“One of them is called gravity,” Granger commented.
Shelley paused in her dramatics to look at him and smile indulgently. “Yes, the moon has gravitational influence, that is true, controlling the tides, and perhaps a great deal more. A full moon has been known throughout history and culture for its powers. I find it quite fitting that tonight, we will have the full moon with us. We will begin shortly.”
“I’m going to go take my seat,” Janet said. “Granger, dear, come along. We’ll put Lacey next to Mr. Brentwood—that will give her the most exposure.”
Granger made a face and followed his wife.
Dallas heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. Kristi was coming down, followed by the ghosts of the house, Monty and Justin. She shrugged, smiling as she met up with him and whispered, “They’ve promised to observe—and to behave.”
Dallas nodded gravely to the two of them.
“Kristi is going to protect us,” Justin assured him.
“Protect me—no one disputes the fact you were a hero,” Monty told Justin gravely. “Thank goodness for that, at least.”
The sound guys had wired everyone with small microphones, and the cameramen had taken their positions; Genie and Sydney and Jonah had done a quick runaround, picking up plates and glasses.
“Take your seats. I’ll fix the room,” Shelley said. “Now, I know we’re filming, but we can’t have the house alive, blazing with lights.”
“It’s all right, Shelley,” Carl assured her. “They’re working with the right equipment. They’ll pick up what’s going on, even in low light.”
“All right, then!” Shelley said, beaming. She’d dressed the part again, with a silk scarf tied around her head and a flowing caftan over her simple, floor-length dress. She’d brought her crystal ball, and it sat dead center in the table.
Dallas leaned against the wall, by the side of the fireplace. Jonah was standing guard at the archway to the kitchen.
“Miss Stewart, it’s your house. I’d be honored if you’d sit next to me,” Carl Brentwood told Kristi.
Kristi smiled, and took the seat he offered. Next to her were Claire, Murray and Genie—and then Shelley.
On Carl’s other side were Lacey, Janet, Granger and Sydney.
Sydney was clearly excited; Genie looked a little bit wary.
&n
bsp; “We’re rolling,” said Matthew Guyer quietly. “Go ahead whenever you’re ready.”
“All hold hands, please,” Shelley asked. “We’ve gathered here tonight to speak with the ghosts of McLane House. This home has witnessed approximately two hundred years of history, and been here through what has been good, heroic and magnificent, and through what has been ugly and painful, as well. The crystal on the table will help harness energy, and yet, we must all understand that spirits will appear when they wish, and so, we must hold our own bond. We believe the spirit of Trinity McLane, shot down and thrown into the earth, restlessly roams the house. We believe, too, that Justin McLane might well be here, and perhaps Jedidiah, who has not been gone so very long.”
Dallas heard a sniff near him—it was Monty. He looked very offended.
“Hold hands, my friends, do not break the chain. Feel the warmth and life of one another, and look into the crystal ball.” She paused for a long moment, then raised her voice slightly. “Spirits of McLane House. We seek to commune with you. None comes to offer harm. If anything, we wish to help you. If you wish to move on, we would help you move on. If you wish to speak, please speak.” She suddenly began to weave, a keening sound coming from her lips. “I feel them,” she whispered. “They are among us.”
Dallas looked over at Kristi. To his surprise, she was staring hard at the crystal ball, and she looked as if she was deeply disturbed.
“What’s going on?” Dallas murmured softly.
“We’re right here,” Justin told him. “We’re not doing a thing.”
“Give us a sign, of spirits, we beg of you!” Shelley said.
Lacey Knox gasped suddenly, eyes wide. “I feel... I feel a presence.”
“I feel it, too,” Granger said, as if totally confused by whatever it was that he was feeling.
“Who is it who is with us?” Shelley asked. “Trinity...are you here? Are you hoping to move on? We know how brutally your life ended, shot down by love... Are you with us? Let us know, give us a sign.”
Nothing. Shelley didn’t even try to jostle the table.
“I feel it, too... Maybe it’s Justin...or Monty!” Lacey said.
“I really feel something,” Claire Danson said, the look on her face amazed.
Then, the table did jostle. That brought about a series of gasps—from everyone but Kristi.
She was still just staring at the crystal ball. She seemed transfixed, and unaware of everyone around her.
And then even Dallas felt it—something.
It was as if a strange mist had settled over the house, concentrated on the table. It gave the impression of something painful, hurt and remembering...and still hurting.
“Kristi,” Carl Brentwood whispered.
Kristi didn’t seem to hear him.
“I do believe it is Monty McLane, forced to wander these rooms for all eternity, for the terrible wrong he did,” Shelley announced.
“Damn that fake of a woman!” Monty’s ghost declared. “I am tempted to knock the table over—right on top of her.”
“That would just confirm for certain that she had summoned you,” Justin said. “And that she was right about you.”
Kristi spoke up, sounding almost as if she was the medium—and had gone into a trance. “It’s not Monty, and I do not believe he gunned down the woman he loved. It’s not Monty, and it’s not Justin...and it’s...not a spirit of this house!”
Now Shelley looked shocked; she knew Kristi didn’t set much store in any séance, and so she was the least likely of the group to say a ghost was among them.
All eyes were on Kristi—in Shelley’s view, it must seem she was stealing the spotlight.
But Shelley was a show-woman, and she quickly rallied. “Sometimes...sometimes a spirit is known more to one than to others. Kristi, can you tell us what happened to this ghost? Who—is it, then?”
“It is a woman,” Kristi said, seemingly mesmerized by the crystal ball. “She is crying out for help. She lost her life near here, and...”
Kristi stopped speaking.
“A woman—who lost her life near here?” Granger asked, his voice harsh. “No, there is no woman... I feel it. It—wouldn’t be a spirit who doesn’t belong here. Kristi, concentrate. It is Monty, and he is tricking you!”
“He knows how you feel, Kristi,” Shelley said. “He is pretending he is someone else, because he does not like to be blamed for what happened.”
“Monty did not kill his wife and father,” Kristi said.
“Perhaps it is Trinity, to tell us all the...truth...” Lacey Knox said, as if she had to speak—lest she go unnoticed in the video.
“It is not Trinity,” Kristi said.
She hadn’t stopped looking at the crystal ball; Dallas didn’t think she had even blinked.
And, while he didn’t know if others saw it or felt, he was convinced there was a mist in the room, that something was happening...that someone, other than Monty and Justin, was really there.
Something, someone, felt by the others, but only seen by Kristi.
“I’m so cold!” Claire said, shivering.
“Of course, because a presence is among us!” Shelley said.
“She is here, and she is determined, she needs help, but she will stay until the truth is known,” Kristi said.
She even looked as if she was in a trance.
“Who? Who is she?” Murray Meyer demanded.
Shelley was no longer the star of the little charade; all eyes were on Kristi. “She knew—she knew secrets,” Kristi whispered.
“You mustn’t let the spirits fool you,” Shelley said. “Monty!” she cried out. “Please, Monty, I know you are here, and you must behave. What you did, you did for love. It was not right, but we can understand. You fought so hard. You were stationed at the fort, but the Yankees had the fort. And the city fathers surrendered. You just wanted to see your beautiful wife again, talk to her, touch her. Perhaps you’d even heard rumors that Colonel Albert Huntington meant to take your home—your home—as his headquarters. Perhaps you’d even heard that Trinity had approached him, maybe begging for mercy for herself and your father and the house, and that...mercy had a price. You are not condemned, sir. What you did, you did in a fit of rage, and today, you would be understood in our courts, and...”
“Shelley,” Kristi said flatly, her eyes off of the crystal at last and onto the medium, “that’s not what happened. The only account of what happened was in records written by Colonel Huntington—and what do you think he would say? He would have been called upon to answer for the cold-blooded murder of a civilian woman and two others!”
“Blaming the Yankees,” Shelley murmured.
“I am not blaming the Yankees—it was a war, and both sides believed they were right, and that God was on their side. I’m speaking about one man.”
Dallas had to wonder just why she had ever agreed to sit at the table. But if she hadn’t been there, Shelley might have had them all convinced Monty McLane had been a monster—and not only was Trinity there with them, but she was trying to serve them all tea.
Dallas was tempted to stride over and assure Shelley she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.
He held on to his temper, watching Kristi again, trying to ascertain what she had seen.
“Kristi, Kristi, you are making the spirits afraid, they are backing away!” Shelley said.
“No, no, not at all,” Carl Brentwood said. “This is really happening. It’s settled over Kristi, I can feel it coming for her. The cold wafting over me, I just can’t see...but I can feel, and there is someone here!” He was staring at Kristi with amazement.
“Who is she, Kristi, who is she?” Claire Danson demanded softly.
“I—I don’t know. She’s gone,” Kristi said.
She was lying; Dallas was sure. Kristi was seeing some
thing...someone. And he couldn’t see them, and apparently, neither could Justin or Monty.
“What the hell?” Justin muttered, walking over to the table.
“There’s still someone here,” Murray said, frowning.
“I believe it’s Justin now,” Kristi said softly, turning her attention back to the ball.
“She knows damned well it isn’t me,” Justin murmured, taking a few steps towards the table. “She knows that...she knows that I’m over here.”
“She has a reason,” Dallas said as softly as he could, eyeing the cameraman—Matthew—nearest him. But Matthew didn’t hear him. He, too, was focused on Kristi.
Shelley tried to seize hold of the séance once again. “Justin, yes, it is you! And we’re so sorry you died so young! We honor you, sir, as the great hero you are. Thank you, thank you so much...”
Justin stepped away from the table, looking back at Dallas.
“That woman is so full of...of horse dung!”
“It’s gone,” Carl Brentwood said. “Gone...it’s warm again, the feeling is gone, the sensation was gone, but...it was here!”
Shelley moaned and closed her eyes. “They have left us...”
She allowed her head to crash dramatically to the table.
Jonah flicked on the lights by the archway door. Shelley lifted her head.
“That is all for tonight, my friends. We have contacted the spirits of the house, and they have given of themselves, and now...they are gone. Thank you all, thank you for your steadfast and giving participation. And I thank the moon as well, for, as I said, that moon has power, and that beautiful power came through for us tonight.”
She rose; Carl Brentwood did the same, turning to his cameraman. “It was real!” he said excitedly. “Real—oh, my God, I felt it! It’s true—McLane House is totally haunted!”
“Cut!” Matthew called. “Shelley, that was great—absolutely great! And Kristi, you were magnificent. We’re going to set up for post-séance interviews. Kristi, I’m hoping you’ll talk to me, and maybe—”
“I don’t know who she was,” Kristi said. “I just don’t know. Excuse me.”
Kristi stood, and raced up the stairs.
The Summoning Page 15
