Page 21 of Ghouls Gone Wild

  Sam chuckled again. “Well, all of that, plus what I saw happen this afternoon.”

  I cocked my head, thinking back through the events of the day. “Which part exactly?”

  “I think you missed something,” Sam said. I opened my mouth to reply, but he stopped me by saying, “Don’t get me wrong, M. J.—you and Heath make a great team—but there was a clue in that castle that I think you passed by.”

  “What clue?”

  “There was a room that you never got to. Do you remember?”

  I blinked a couple of times, trying to recall, and I had a hazy memory of a room at the top of the stairs that had a door that was still intact, and closed tight. “I remember,” I said.

  Sam smiled and folded his hands together in his lap. “Excellent,” he said. “What you’re really looking for is in there. And you can’t delay going back to find it. You must go later on tonight, or it could be removed and you’ll never put it all together.”

  I didn’t know what to say other than, “Can’t you just tell me and save me the trip?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s for you to discover. But I promise it’ll be worth it. Oh, and Gilley won’t find Royshin. But he might find Katherine. You’ll tell him to look for her now, won’t you?”

  “Um . . . sure,” I said, not really understanding what he meant.

  “Wonderful. I have to leave now, but before I go, can I give you a bit of advice from an old man who loves his grandson?”

  Uh-oh.

  “Sure,” I said with a gulp.

  “Go easy on Heath. He likes you, and not just as friends. I don’t want to see him get his heart broken again.”

  Again?

  I felt my cheeks heat. “Sure, Sam. I can do that. And I’m trying to figure all this out, I promise. The last thing in the world I’d want to do is hurt him.”

  “I know, M. J. I know.”

  And with that, Samuel Whitefeather dissolved into a mist just as I heard three bangs on my door. Then Wendell barked, and I woke up with a start.

  Chapter 13

  Still trying to sort out the dream from the reality, I pulled off the blanket I was lying under and stumbled to the door. When I opened it, I found Gilley standing there looking quite peeved.

  Quelle surprise.

  “Hey, Gil,” I said, doing my best to sound upbeat and positive.

  “I’ve been at it for hours,” he yelled. “Hours and hours!”

  I rubbed my face and shook my head, trying to get my brain to work. “What time is it?”

  “Six.”

  “Okay, so you’ve been at it a few hours, and I’m guessing you came up with nothing?”

  “Not. One. Thing,” he growled, pushing his way into the room to pick up Wendell and go straight to the chair where Sam had been just a moment earlier. “I’m telling you this Royshin dude doesn’t exist!”

  “Did you look at the family that owned the castle?”

  Gil’s lids lowered—his look dangerous. “What do you take me for, an amateur?”

  “Okay, sorry,” I said, coming back into the room to sit on the bed, remembering what Sam had told me. “But I might have given you the wrong name. I think that instead of looking for a Royshin, you should look for Katherine.”

  Gil’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I sighed heavily. Gil could be so damn difficult sometimes. “I know I’m asking a lot of you to go back and look some more, buddy, but this is important.”

  Gilley sat forward and placed a squirming Wendell on the ground. The pup trotted quickly back to me, obviously scared of the testy guy who’d just entered our suite. “No, M. J., you don’t get it. That’s what I was going to say next. I’ve already found Katherine.”

  I shook my head again. “Wait. . . . What?”

  “Katherine McKay of the McKays of Queen’s Close. The woman living in Joseph Hill’s guesthouse is a direct descendant of the clan of McKay—the same family that once owned that crumbling castle on Hill’s property.”

  Gil pulled out a piece of paper that he’d scribbled his notes on and referred to it as he told me what he’d found. “The McKays have been residents of the village of Queen’s Close for centuries. They were a very prominent family all the way up through the late eighteen hundreds, and they owned most of the property here in the close until they fell on hard times and had to sell off most of what they owned. That’s when the castle fell into ruin, in fact.”

  “So the woman we met on Joseph Hill’s property today was once related to the family that owned that castle?”

  Gilley nodded. “Quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “But, Gilley,” I said quickly, “don’t you see? She’s a direct descendant of Rigella’s—she as much as admitted it to us this morning!” When Gilley cocked his head sideways like a confused puppy, I explained, “Remember? Katherine said Rigella only communicates with her direct descendants, and Katherine told us that Rigella came to her in Katherine’s dreams! She said that the witch showed up the first time in a dream when she was nineteen, and then again recently when she asked Katherine to make the brooms.”

  “Okay,” Gil said, still not following.

  “Which means that if you can go back and follow her family branch specifically, it might lead us to who else has survived through the ages and would be in mind to call up the witch.”

  Gilley looked at his notes and said, “See, that’s where things get really interesting. Katherine is one of seven girls.”

  “Seven?”

  Gil nodded. “But only three sisters are still alive.”

  “What? Four of her sisters are dead?”

  “Yep. Two were twins who died in infancy, one more was killed in an automobile accident in the late seventies, and the fourth died about two years ago. I found her obit half an hour ago. She had cancer.”

  “So where are the other two remaining sisters?”

  “One is currently living in New Zealand, and the other you already know.”

  “I do?”

  “Well, sort of. Vicariously. Through Wendell.”

  “Gilley,” I said irritably, rubbing my temple.” “Just tell me.”

  “Sarah Summers. She owns the animal shelter where Wendell was living.”

  I blinked, totally surprised. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then she must be the one,” I said. “She must be the woman Katherine refused to tell us about, and she must have called up the witch.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  But then something struck me as odd, and I had to pause. “But why would Sarah want to kill Cameron?”

  Gilley shrugged. “Why don’t you go ask her?”

  I leveled a look at him. “Yeah, great idea, Gil. I’ll just walk right up and ask her why she murdered a man, froze his body, defrosted him, laid him in the road then cut your brake lines. I’ll bet she’ll share her whole life’s story once I’ve broken the ice with that one.”

  “Beats sitting around here and speculating about it,” Gil said, his own tone a bit testy.

  I took a deep breath and pulled in my horns. “Okay,” I relented. “We’ll go talk to her. And see if we can’t get her to cough up something incriminating.”

  “Now?”

  I looked at my watch. “No. Now we go eat. Then I’ve got to borrow Heath to go back to that castle. So tomorrow we’ll go talk to Sarah.”

  Gilley stared at me in shock. “You’re going back to that castle? Tonight?”

  I got up off the bed, stretching before I answered him. “There’s something I need to check out, and Heath’s grandfather said it was urgent.”

  “Wait,” Gil said, looking at me oddly. “Who?”

  “Never mind.” I said, laying some water out for Wendell who’d gone back to sleep then grabbed my purse and motioned Gilley toward the door. “It’s a long story. I just have to go back to the castle tonight and Heath needs to come too.”

  “But who’s going to stay with me?” Gil asked anxiously as he stepped out into the hallway with me.

  I shut the door, making sure it was locked, and began to walk down the hallway. “I don’t know, Gil,” I said,
exasperated. “We can ask Gopher or one of the other crew to watch over you until I get back.” My partner didn’t look happy, so I added, “Or you could come with us back to the castle.”

  “Uh, no. That’s okay. I’m sure one of the others will agree to sit with me.”

  “Where did you want to go for dinner?” I asked, trying to change the subject to something lighter.

  “How about Greek?” Gil suggested. “I saw this really cool-looking Greek restaurant just down the street. . . .”

  It turned out that going Greek was a big, BIG mistake. When you’re with someone who is rightfully terrified of any open flame, having a bunch of waiters light cheese on fire and yell “Opah!”can cause more than just heart palpitations—it can elicit a rather embarrassing reaction from a scared little queen armed with a fully loaded fire extinguisher.

  By the third ruined saganaki plate, we were asked to leave. Promptly.

  “I’m still hungry,” Gil moaned as he and I made our way back to the hotel. I’d called the other guys on our team to see if they wanted to join us for dinner, but Gopher, Kim, John, and Meg were already out to eat and Heath was likely still sleeping, because he wasn’t answering his phone.

  “Well then, you shouldn’t have foamed up the restaurant, Gil,” I snapped. I’d made it only partially through my spinach pie and I’d really been looking forward to some stuffed grape leaves.

  Gil was silent for a minute, falling behind me as we walked, and then I heard him sniffle.

  Great. Just great.

  I stopped and turned around to look back at him. “Hey,” I said gently. “Come on, Gil. Don’t cry.”

  “I want to go home,” he blubbered as big wet tears dripped down his cheeks. “I miss Doc! And I miss Steven. And I miss Mama Dell!”

  I closed my eyes to gather my words carefully before speaking. When the waterworks started, Gil could be übersensitive. “Honey,” I said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be okay. We just have a few more days to hang in there and then you’ll have your passport back and we can get you out of here.”

  “But what if Rigella gets to me before we can get away?”

  “I won’t let that happen,” I vowed.

  “But how are you going to stop her, M. J.?” Gilley wailed. “I mean, she’s already killed people, and she almost killed you and me in a fire, and Heath in those woods. How can you shut down something that powerful?”

  I squeezed Gil in a firm hug and said, “The same way we always do, my friend. By finding her portal and shoving a whole mess of spikes into it.”

  “But if her portal is down in the close, how the hell are you guys going to get near it without her killing you?”

  I didn’t answer him because I honestly didn’t know. And that was a major problem. I didn’t know where the witch kept her portal, but I knew it had to be the location in which Rigella was likely killed over three and a half centuries ago, and then called up within the past two weeks by someone living in the village. That’s why finding out who specifically had beckoned the witch forward was so important. We didn’t just need to identify a local murderer; we needed to close up that portal and lock up this town’s scariest spook forever.

  “Don’t worry,” I insisted. “We’ll work it all out.”

  Because I felt sorry for Gil, I agreed to attempt a meal at another restaurant and he pointed to the McDonald’s right next to the hotel. We ran into Heath there, and he looked very tired and a bit out of it. “You okay?” I asked when I saw him.

  He nodded dully. “These pain pills make me feel woozy.”

  “Are you feeling up to some ghostbusting tonight?”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Your grandfather told me we should go back to the castle.”

  “Now?”

  “After we eat.”

  Heath shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” I had a feeling that if he hadn’t been on Vicodin, he might have protested going back there at night, when the witch would be her most powerful. And that should have made me pause, but I trusted Heath’s grandfather, plus we had plenty of spikes, so what was the worst that could happen?

  We left Gil with Meg and Wendell, promising to return before midnight. Gilley looked extremely worried, and he’d made a show of making sure both our tool belts were stocked with extra magnets and the two remaining electrostatic meters. “Please be careful with these,” he insisted. “I don’t know where or when I can get them replaced if they get damaged or lost.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, kissing him on the forehead. “See ya.”

  Gopher surprised us by insisting on coming along. “If I don’t have enough new footage to show the network, they’re gonna to get antsy about fronting us the extra cash,” he explained.

  I was all too happy to have him along, more eyes and ears to keep a lookout for the witch. Kim and John had gone off to catch a movie, and on the way over to Joseph’s property, I casually asked Gopher about them.

  “They’re totally boinking each other,” he confirmed.

  “Tactfully put, buddy.”

  Gopher smiled. “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I meant to say they are having relations.”

  “Well, they make a cute couple.”

  Gopher rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

  I laughed, “Ho, Gopher! Don’t tell me you’re jealous!”

  Our producer’s cheeks turned a shade pinker. “Of who?”

  I eyed him skeptically. “Of John. You’re into Kim, aren’t you?”

  Gopher put on a good act, appearing aghast that I could accuse him of such things, but we had arrived at Hill’s house just then and had to get back to business.

  When we were well loaded down with grenades, flashlights, night-vision cameras, and such, we set off for the back of the house and the castle beyond. Heath glanced up at the sky and remarked, “Looks like rain again.”

  I looked up too. “Storm’s coming,” I said, feeling the atmosphere take on a charged energy.

  The wind had picked up since we’d left the hotel, and none of us talked much as we trudged down the hill, avoiding Katherine’s cottage, and back up the other end to the crumbling fortress. “So, what are we looking for exactly?” Gopher asked as we carefully stepped around several stones leading to the large hole in the wall.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Heath’s grandfather visited me in another dream and said we would find what we were looking for in here.”

  “Did he mention any specifics?” Heath asked.

  I shook my head. “All he said was that we should make more of an effort to get into that room at the top of the tower.”

  “The one with the door that wouldn’t budge?”

  “Yep.”

  “Has anyone had any reservations about the fact that we’re currently trespassing?” Gopher asked as we scrambled over the stones into the main hall of the castle.

  “I doubt Joseph will mind,” I told him.

  “And if he does, we’re the two people who can help him get over it.”

  I smiled. “Exactly.”

  Gopher held up his camera and turned it on, pointing it straight ahead as he turned in a circle while verbally documenting the date, time, and location for the television-viewing audience. The wind was making a show of howling through the halls and corridors, whipping stray bits of dried vegetation and litter all about.

  “And with us on our ghost hunt tonight are our two mediums, Heath Whitefeather and M. J. Holliday.” I yawned into the camera. “M. J.?” Gopher said, tilting the camera away.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you please try not to look bored?”

  I laughed. “Sure thing, buddy. But just for you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “Come on, gang, let’s get this party started,” I said, motioning for my companions to follow me.

  I led the way toward the staircase just as a tremendous crack of thunder shook the foundation and reverberated off the walls. “Whoa,” I said. And before anyone else could respond, a bright flash illuminated the interior of the keep, followed two seconds later by another loud explosion, and then a torrent of water fell from
the sky.

  “Holy Moses!” Gopher exclaimed, moving up the stairs to one of the arched windows. “It is really coming down out there!”

  “Good timing making it to the castle before we got soaked, huh?” Heath said.

  I was about to agree when another flash of lightning lit up the landscape, followed by a virtually instantaneous crack of thunder that felt almost on top of us, then boomed its way all along the downs. It was so loud and went on for so long that I didn’t immediately notice Gopher’s stiff shoulders and trembling frame.

  But Heath did. “Gopher?” he asked. “You okay?”

  Gopher turned around and even in the dim light I could tell he was pale. I pointed my flashlight up to his face, which was a mask of fear. “What?” I asked. “Gopher, what is it?”

  He lowered the camera and held it out to us. “Hit rewind,” he said in a voice we could barely hear above the pouring rain.

  Heath took the camera while I moved in to wrap a comforting arm around Gopher, who was shivering even though he was wrapped snugly in a warm coat. I’d seen him mighty scared before, but never like this. This was a new level of fear.

  Heath fidgeted with the camera, pressed rewind, causing the images to blur for a bit, then hit play, and out of the camera came the tiny voice of Gopher, telling the audience where we were etc.; then my yawning face came into focus, followed by us traveling up the stairs . . . the beginning of the storm . . . Gopher pointing the camera out the window . . . and then something that made both Heath and me suck in a breath.

  The night-vision footage had gone bright green when the flash of lightning had illuminated the landscape, and something large and ominous had come into view. Fergus Ericson’s massive oak tree was in the perfect position to be seen from the window Gopher had been shooting out of. And dangling from the boughs of that tree were the unmistakable figures of three hanging souls. “Jeeeeeeeesus!” I exclaimed, grabbing the camera and pulling it closer to get a better look.

  “Did you see that?” Heath asked, clicking the rewind button again and almost immediately stopping it before hitting play. This time however, he advanced the footage frame by frame. And five button pushes later he landed on the most incredibly creepy footage we’d ever captured.