Oracle of Spirits #4

  "My name is Stewart. May I take your bags?" he offered.

  "No, but I'd like to know where I can park my car," Ian asked him.

  Stewart nodded at a garage to the left of the house that was copied in the style of the rest of the house. The garage had six doors and two floors, and was connected to the gravel roundabout.

  "Birth five is unattended. If you like, I might drive it in for you," he requested.

  "That'd be great," Ian agreed, and handed him the keys.

  We took our few bags from the car and Stewart drove it to the fifth door from the left. Our hosts stepped off the small porch and shook hands with us.

  "We can't tell you how delighted we are to see you," Mr. Cash commented.

  "Yes, and only a little later than the other gentleman," Mrs. Cash added.

  Ian raised an eyebrow. "Other gentleman?"

  She smiled and nodded. "Yes. We decided to contact the Paranormal Association and enlist their help, as well."

  "I see. And who did they send?" Ian asked her.

  "Ian Osman! My old friend!" a loud voice bellowed out.

  A man of thirty strode out the front door and embraced Ian in what I could only describe as a strait-jacket hug. I worried the man intended to swallow Ian whole. Instead the guy pulled them arm's length apart so I got my first good look at the man.

  He was thirty with brown hair and sideburns. A mustache covered his upper lip and a wide smile covered the rest of his face. He wore a brown suit and white undershirt, and his shoes were shined so bright I could see my reflection pick my nose. Old folks would call him a dandy. I considered him an idiot. Turns out, I wasn't far off.

  Ian plastered a smile on his face and bowed his head. "Good evening, Mr. Muro."

  Muro laughed and clapped Ian hard on the side of his arm. "Don't be so formal with me, Ian. You can call me Sebastian any time." His eyes fell on Cronus. "And I see you brought your helper. I always forget your name. It's Crouton, isn't it?" I had no idea Cronus' glare could get deadlier. The man turned to me and his eyes widened. "And who's this beautiful young woman?" He stepped forward and, before I could stop him, took my hand and planted a wet kiss on the back. The man raised his eyes and winked at me. "The pleasure is all mine, my dear, I assure you."

  I pulled my hand free of his slimy grasp. "You're not lying there," I retorted.

  "Then you two are acquainted?" Mr. Cash spoke up.

  Muro, or Sebastian, as he insisted we call him, nodded. "Yes. Ian and I go back a few years."

  Ian turned to our hosts. "Could we drop off our bags and see the areas where the disturbances have occurred?"

  Mr. Cash nodded. "Of course, especially as there isn't much time."

  "Time before what?" Ian asked him.

  "Before we leave. You see, we don't stay in the house very long after dark," he explained. He glanced over his shoulder at the imperious place. "There's a certain air of something dark in the house that leaves one feeling uneasy."

  "It's because half the rooms aren't properly wired for electricity, so there's no lights in them," Mrs. Cash added as she looked in disgust at her husband. "So you see, the practical matter of it is it's quite dangerous for anyone to live here just yet."

  Mr. Cash uneasily smiled at us and stepped side. "But let us show you to your rooms."

  CHAPTER 3

  Our hosts led the way into the entrance hall of the house. The interior was less imposing than the outside with simple wood paneling and flooring. The entrance hall occupied two floors with a balcony in front of and on either side of us. The spacious area was lit by a large chandelier that hung above us. The electric lights didn't quite reach all the corners of the room, and shadows grew there. I unconsciously pressed my side against Ian. He grasped my hand and smiled at me.

  "You feeling okay?" he whispered.

  I couldn't find my voice to speak, but I managed to shake my head. There was something dark about the place. It wasn't at all like the old building in town that had been haunted by the child. Whatever was here was older and didn't care for anything childish.

  "As you can see the renovation started in this hall, and moved out in both directions," Mr. Cash explained to us as he gestured to the wings on either side.

  "The house was quite a steal, as far as estates go," Mrs. Cash spoke up. She turned towards the doors and gestured to the windows. "But I couldn't help but fall in love with the small feminine touches of the home. The windowsills are just the height for a young woman, and the elegant flower carvings above the doorways are just to die for."

  I followed a wave of her hand to the doorways on our left and right. The top of the carved wooden frames were inscribed with flowers and ribbons that looped and wrapped around one another.

  "When did the manifestations first occur?" Ian asked them.

  "The noises and objects moving didn't happen until the wings began to be renovated," Mr. Cash replied.

  "That means we can safely assume that whatever was disturbed isn't located in the entrance hall," Sebastian spoke up.

  "That's what we think, but we can't figure out what could have been disturbed. The builders haven't found anything that caught their attention," our host told us.

  Ian walked deeper into the hall and carried me along with him. He gaze up at the ceiling. "And the phenomena? Are there any particular rooms where strange things have happened?"

  Mr. Cash shook his head. "I'm afraid not, unless you call the entire third and fourth floors particular."

  "Titus, it's getting late, and our guests haven't been shown to their rooms," Mrs. Cash reminded him.

  "Oh, yes, you're quite right, my dear. If you'll follow me we've placed you all on the second floor in the west wing," Mr. Cash informed us.

  He guided us up the stairs that stood at the back of the hall. The steps wound their way upstairs to the second floor, and continued on for what seemed like forever. A landing on the second floor stretched into a hallway that stretched across the entire length of the house. The passage was lit by electric lamps that hung from the walls, and I was glad to see they were all working. The long hall stretched without windows to the end of the wing. On either side were rows of white doors.

  I paused on the landing and tilted my head up. The stairs turned out of sight, but the darkness from the unlit higher floors creep down the dark steps. Ian set a hand on my shoulder and leaned close to me so his whispering voice could be heard.

  "What is it?" he asked me.

  I couldn't take my eyes off those shadows, but I managed to shake my head. "I don't know. I just get the feeling there's something here. Something that shouldn't be."

  "We'll find out what it is," he promised as he pulled me away from the darkness.

  Our client stopped us at the first six rooms. "All the rooms on this floor are finished, but these ones are the only ones with furniture," he explained. He opened a door and let us see the contents.

  There was a large four-post bed complete with flimsy, transparent curtains that stood opposite the door. A fireplace on the left was clean and empty. A dresser stood on the opposite wall with a small table and two chairs in front of that.

  "I think we'll be quite comfortable here," Ian assured him.

  "I'm glad to hear that," Mr. Cash answered.

  "Hurry, Titus, or we'll be late for supper," Mrs. Cash insisted from where she stood at the rear of our little group.

  "Yes, my dear," he replied. He turned to Ian, and gestured to Sebastian. "As I informed Mr. Muro, there's ample food in the kitchen located downstairs just below your rooms. If you need to call us there are no landlines in the home, but I'm sure you brought cell phones."

  "I'm sure we'll be fine," Ian replied.

  Mr. Cash smiled and bowed his head. "Then goodnight, gentlemen and miss, and God speed."

  Mr. Cash navigated past our group and, with his wife in arm, hurried down the stairs. In a moment we heard the front door slam shut. It sounded like a coffin lid. My eyes inadvertently returned to the staircase. I swore
the shadows were closer now than before.

  A loud noise made me jump, and I spun around to find Sebastian with his hands clapped together. A wide grin graced his lips as he looked over us.

  "Well, it seems we must work together on this one," he mused.

  "Not on your life," Ian retorted. He pushed past Sebastian, opened the sixth door from the staircase, and disappeared inside.

  "As cheerful as usual," Sebastian commented as he turned to me. His eyes fell on me and I didn't like how his grin got wider. "You know, I don't think we were formally introduced outside." He held out his hand. "Sebastian Muro, investigator for the Paranormal Society."

  I smiled and shook his hand. It was clammy and cold. "Enid, assistant to Ian," I replied.

  His eyebrows raised. "Really? You don't happen to be a werewolf also, do you?" he wondered as he studied me with new-found interest.

  I shook my head. "Nope, just a plain, ordinary girl." With some strange abilities.

  Sebastian smiled and shook his head. "Nothing around Ian is ordinary, and you're certainly not plain." His eyes narrowed as he stepped close to me. I found myself unconsciously stepping back as his low voice cut through the air. "What are you, really?"

  I blinked at him. "A human, like you," I told him.

  The man chuckled, and the sound chilled my blood. Gone was the jovial figure from a moment before, and now stood before me a man of deep and terrifying cunning.

  "Come, come, Miss Enid. I haven't worked for the Paranormal Society for half a century just to fall for the lies of a beautiful young woman," he cooed.

  I started back. "Half a century?"

  "Enid," Ian called to me.

  The spell was broken. Sebastian stepped away from me and towards the first door on the hall. "It seems you're wanted, Miss Enid. Perhaps we can have this chat another time." He slipped into the room and the chill went with him, but I was left with an aching head.

  Ian strode up to me and grasped my arms. His eyes searched my face. "What'd he do to you?" he asked me.

  I clutched my spinning head in my palm. "I-I don't know. He asked me what I was, and he told me he'd been working for the Society for fifty years."

  "Let's go into my room and wait for the others to arrive," he advised.

  Ian guided me into his room, and I saw that Cronus sat in a chair near the cold fire. On the table in front of him was a laptop, and he typed away some words of wisdom. He didn't look up as we entered, but he did glance at us as Ian helped me over to the bed and set me at the foot. Ian took a seat beside me and leaned forward to study my face.

  "You're not looking so great. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring you here," he commented.

  I managed a shaky smile. "I'm okay. It's just-well, this place is a little creepy."

  He studied the room around us and nodded. "Not exactly what I'd call a warm home," he agreed. He glanced to Cronus. "Our hosts were in such a hurry they didn't get a chance to point us in the right directions, so we'll have to go on the records and our gut instincts. What'd you find out about the house's past?"

  "The house was built in 1852. The owner's name was Adrian Black. He built his wealth on the purchase and sale slaves, and kept a number for himself which he housed in bare shanties where now the garage stands," Cronus revealed.

  Ian frowned. "Nice fellow. He build the place on Indian burial grounds?"

  Cronus shook his head. "There's no record of a permanent aboriginal settlement in the area, or at least not this far from the river. The property was sold to him by a farmer, and he built the Castle, as it was called at that time, for his wife, a Miss Isabella, last name unknown. It seems there was some controversy over the matter because she had taken a vow of chastity and was a nun in a nearby convent."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Wow. And I thought daytime dramas were unbelievable."

  "Are there any records of hauntings dating to that period?" Ian asked him.

  Cronus shook his head. "No. Mr. Black lost his fortune after the Civil War and was forced to sell the house and estate. There was a planned sale of his wife and his personal possessions, but the sale was canceled when the Blacks failed to appear with the promised items. Newspaper articles assumed they fled with their remaining servants and possessions. There are no records of what became of him or his wife after the house changed hands."

  "And afterward?" Ian persisted.

  "The house changed hands for a hundred years until it was left to a distant relation of a previous owner, who abandoned it to the elements until Mr. Cash bought the estate five years ago," Cronus replied.

  "Are there any stories of ghosts in this place?" Ian wondered.

  "There are no prior sightings, but neither has the house been changed so thoroughly since it was built," Cronus pointed out.

  Ian stood and paced the room between Cronus and me. "So what we've got is a ghost who doesn't like the changes. That points to the original owners, but it doesn't begin to tell us why they would care."

  "Isn't it usually because they were fond of the house?" I spoke up.

  "That's possible, or-"

  A scream and a crash interrupted our conversation.

  CHAPTER 4

  We all jumped to our feet. The men rushed out the door, and I wasn't far behind. We met Sebastian out in the hall.

  "What was that?" he asked us.

  Cronus and Ian flew down the stairs with Sebastian and me close at their heels. We arrived at the bottom of the stairs to find Quinn and Cecilia near the front door. Cecilia lay limp in Quinn's arms, and the grand chandelier that once hung proudly from the ceiling was now a shattered shadow of its glory on the wood floor. Ian raced around the busted light and knelt beside our two friends.

  "Is she all right?" he asked Quinn.

  Quinn nodded, but I noticed his face was pale. "Yeah, but it was a close one. If she hadn't looked up then we might've both been smashed to bits."

  Ian looked her over, testing her pulse and touching her forehead. He sighed and smiled. "It looks like Sleeping Beauty fainted."

  "That's what I figured. The scream she gave off before it crashed down nearly made me faint," Quinn admitted.

  Ian glanced over his shoulder at Cronus. His grim assistant stood beside the fallen chandelier with Sebastian and me close by. "Cronus, the smelling salts."

  "Not. . .that stuff. . ." a weak voice protested. Cecilia opened her eyes and glared at him. "It's like smelling old socks that a cat shit on."

  Ian grinned. "Good morning, lovely. Have a nice nap?"

  Quinn helped her to her feet and she whacked her stick against Ian's shin. "Shut up. We could've been killed."

  Cecilia glanced around at our little group, and I noticed her empty eyes paused on Cronus. An eyebrow raised and she pursed her lips, but didn't speak aloud what she thought. I looked to Cronus and noticed he glared especially at the little girl, but said nothing.

  Ian stood and half-turned to the attempted-murder weapon. "How'd it fall?" he asked us.

  Sebastian knelt down and picked up the cable that had connected the chandelier to the electricity and ceiling. "Looks like the cable was old and snapped."

  I noticed that Quinn eyed our unwelcome acquaintance and a deep frown slid onto his lips.

  "Pretty convenient timing for a snap," Ian returned.

  Sebastian tossed away the cable and straightened. "If you're suggesting the spirits did this then why didn't they try it earlier when there were more of us under it?"

  "I felt something just before the chandelier broke loose," Cecilia admitted. "Maybe it didn't like that."

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "What'd you feel?"

  She sneered at him. "Are you paying me to be here?"

  "No, but-"

  "Then I don't have to give you the god damn weather report," she snapped. She turned her empty eyes to Ian. "What's a girl gotta do to get a glass of beer around here?"

  I covered my mouth to stifle my snort. It was surreal to hear a girl of ten, a blind one, to boot, to ask for a b
eer after nearly getting a body rearrangement with a murderous chandelier.

  Ian smiled. "I think food would do us all some good. Our clients gave us free rein of the kitchen."

  Quinn grinned. "That sounds like a plan I can sink my teeth into." He had his hands on Cecilia's shoulders and he looked down at the young girl. "You up for a short walk or you want me to carry you?"

  Cecilia's eyes glanced over the room and fell on me. "I want Enid to help me."

  I blinked at her and pointed at myself. "Me?" I squeaked.

  She pursed her lips and nodded. "Yes, you, now get over here, slacker."

  I rolled my eyes, but obliged her by offering my arm to her.

  "If you don't mind, I think I'll follow you," Sebastian spoke up.

  "Suit yourself," Ian replied.

  We followed the men through the doorway that led into the west wing. The lower portion of the house was like the upper in that there were only two escapes: behind and directly in front of us. The sun had set fifteen minutes before, and without the electric lamps on the walls we all would've been nearly as blind as Cecilia. The same plain white doors stood on either side of the hall. The first two on either side were open. One led into a parlor, and the one on the right led into the dining room.

  "What do you think of this place?" she asked me.

  "Creepy as heck," I replied.

  "Did you feel anything when you came in?" she wondered.

  I snorted. "I felt something when I first saw it."

  She sniffed. "I guess there's something to be said about not being blind, but what'd you feeling when you went inside?"

  "Cold," I told her.

  "Anything else?"

  I furrowed my brow as I searched my mixed emotions. "Terrified?"

  "Were you terrified, or was something else terrified?" she persisted.

  I glanced down at her with a frown on my lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She sighed. "It means you've got a lot to learn, kid."

  I was going to remind her of our age differences when we reached the right-hand door that led into the kitchen. The kitchen was covered in stainless steel cupboards, appliances, and even the counter tops glistened in silver. The counters ran from the left-hand corner closest to us and around two of the four walls, but there was a break in the far left corner to accommodate a simple white door. A center island had a large sink on the far side, and a large fridge stood to the right and against the center of the wall.