His acrobatics elicited a few gasps from the people in the hallway, but he hardly noticed. Instead he set off like Usain Bolt, passing right by me. I even waved to him, but he didn’t seem to recognize me. Instead, as he whizzed by, I saw him nod slightly, but he didn’t stop or slow down.
So I waited as he sped across the wide hall and through the main door. I then smirked sideways at Gopher—who was watching slack-jawed—and I held up three fingers, beginning to count them down. “Three. . . two. . . one. . .”
“M. J.!” Gil shouted, appearing again in the doorway. “You’re alive!”
I opened my arms wide and Gilley sprinted straight at me, crashing into me with such force that we both nearly went down. “John said you nearly drowned in the moat!”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Gil’s enthusiastic display of affection did a lot to set me back to rights. “Well, Gil, I—”
“Who’re these people?” Gil suddenly asked, picking his head up to look around. I could see his gaze home in on the cluster of beautiful men standing nearby, now eyeing him with keen interest.
Gil let go of me in a snap and stepped toward them. “Why, hello there,” he said casually.
In short order Gilley was surrounded and I knew I’d lost him for at least the rest of the afternoon. John, who’d made it down the stairs and over to us, stepped up to Gopher and me and apologized. “Gopher called me from the hospital and it took me until just a few minutes ago to wake Gil up. The minute I started to explain where you were and what’d happened, he flew out of his room like a crazy person and I didn’t have the chance to tell him you guys were okay.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, John,” I assured him. “Gil wouldn’t have listened anyway. He’s the type to panic first, think second.”
“Miss Holliday?” said a voice behind us. I turned to see Arthur hold a key out for me. “I’ve given you another room assignment. Your previously assigned room was apparently given to Mr. Gillespie, and we only have one of the smaller rooms available for you and Mr. Whitefeather on the second floor. As soon as there is a vacancy in one of the suites, I’ll offer it to you at no additional charge.”
I took the key gratefully and was about to thank him when someone came up behind me, pushing slightly at my back to get me to move, and said, “Crunn! What’s this about a death here at Kidwellah this morning?”
I turned to see a bloated man with a bright red face and bushy mustache pushing his way next to me to demand information from Mr. Crunn. I gave him a dark look, as I have little patience for rude people, which he completely ignored. Beside him, however, a mousy-looking woman met my eyes shyly, and she blushed. I could tell her husband’s brutish behavior was an embarrassment to her.
For his part Mr. Crunn looked terribly caught off guard as the entire crowd of people fell silent a second time and focused on him. I felt bad for him as he stammered out apologies for the fact that his own clerk had drowned in the moat. The overbearing man acted as if it were somehow Crunn’s fault, and in any other circumstance I would have gotten in middle of the discussion and told the man to piss off, but I wasn’t up to verbally sparring with anyone else that afternoon.
I did, however, insert myself between Mr. Crunn and the ass causing a scene and glared hard at him until he backed off a little. Then I motioned to Gopher and John to come away from the counter. Just as we all walked away, Gopher’s phone rang. He looked at the display and frowned. “It’s Chris,” he said. Chris Weller was Gopher’s boss (which technically made him our boss too). He was part of the network brass who were constantly hounding us for better footage. Gopher turned away as he answered the phone. I knew he’d be stuck talking to Chris for a while.
“Is Heath still at the hospital?” John asked.
“He is,” I told him, moving wearily to the stairs. I really wanted to take another nap, but I was anxious about retrieving my stuff and Heath’s belongings from our old room. If my phone, passport, and other identification weren’t all still there, I would’ve left my clothes and bought new ones, but replacing that stuff was beyond a pain in the neck. I’d have to brave going back to that room. Still, venturing through those hallways to retrieve our personal items wasn’t something I wanted to do alone.
“Can I do anything for you, M. J.?” John asked while I considered my options.
I smiled at him. “Actually, you can. I have to get my stuff and Heath’s from our old room. It’s in the south wing of the castle and I don’t want to go back there by myself. Would you come with me?”
John eyed me curiously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were scared or something, M. J.”
“Oh, trust me, buddy, I’m terrified. That wing is wicked haunted.”
John stopped in his tracks. “Do we need spikes?”
“Most definitely.”
* * *
We went to John’s room to gather up some magnetic spikes and I also stopped by the room that Arthur had assigned to me. I found it much cozier, and even though he had suggested the room would be small, it was still bigger than the old one. Plus, it had its own bathroom, so I wasn’t about to complain.
Discovering its charm and spaciousness gave me pause, however. Why had Merrick put Heath and me in such danger by sending us to the south wing of the castle? He had to know there was a rather dangerous poltergeist lurking about there. He’d seemed like such a nice man, who’d genuinely been impressed by Heath and me. So what was his true agenda, and why had he gone out to the moat in the middle of the night when he should have known that was dangerous territory too?
I also wondered if the Grim Widow truly had drowned Merrick. Even though I’d seen her nearly drown Heath, I had to allow for the possibility that Merrick had simply slipped on the drawbridge, hit his head, and fallen into the water, where he’d drowned. And once the Widow became aware of his grounded spirit, maybe she’d pounced and had somehow taken it captive?
I made a mental note to ask Gilley to research one ghost’s holding another ghost captive, because it was something I’d never heard of and had no idea how to deal with.
John and I left the comfort of our rooms and headed toward the south wing. Along the way, I filled him in on all the harried events of that morning.
He’d heard about the castle employee’s accidental drowning, and I was quick to suggest that I wasn’t convinced it was an accident. “Hold on,” he said as we passed the stairs and saw that Gil was still chatting it up with the male models. “You’re telling me a ghost drowned that guy?”
“I think so. At least I know she’s capable of it.”
John caught my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. “But. . . how?”
“She’s unbelievably strong, John. And evil. Or crazy. Maybe a little of both. Either way we’re gonna have to be really careful on this bust.”
John stared at me hard for several seconds without letting go of my shoulder. “Maybe we should quit this castle and head to the next location, M. J.”
I offered him a mirthless laugh. “If you can talk Gopher into that, then I’m all for it. For now, let’s just focus on getting my stuff and Heath’s things out of that room.”
John continued to look at me doubtfully. “Is there anything in your old room that you and Heath can’t live without?”
I sighed. “My passport, ID, credit cards, money, and phone. Ditto that for Heath. Granted, all of them are replaceable, but it’s the middle of the day, the humidity is as low as it’s gonna get today, and this is the best chance we’ll have of getting in there and out before anything spectral notices.”
I could see John consider all of that and he finally let go of my shoulder, but for a few seconds I didn’t know if he was going to follow me or make a run for it. I took a few tentative steps away, hoping he’d come along. Even though I believed everything I’d just s
aid to convince him, I really didn’t want to venture down those dark hallways alone, and at last he seemed to make a decision and fell into step beside me.
We crept along stealthily, neither of us speaking. John had been on enough ghostbusts to know how to wield a magnetic spike—which acts like pepper spray should any spook want to get too close. John was also a big guy like Heath, but he wasn’t my boyfriend. He had neither the experience nor the same connection to the spirit world that Heath had, and as we rounded the corner into the south wing, I was acutely aware that if anything jumped out at us, I’d have to be the one to take charge and get us out of there.
Remembering the force of the blow against my door that morning, and how strong the Widow had been to wrestle Heath over the stone wall and into the water, I was feeling a little less confident than when I’d given John the speech, but my mind was made up. I wanted my damn stuff back.
We passed through the door leading to the south wing, which was still unlocked from when Heath and I had gone through it that morning, and I paused in the doorway, waiting to feel out the ether.
John stood right behind me and I could feel him taking stock of the dimly lit corridors and the nervousness of his energy.
I sent out my intuitive feelers and found the energy in the south wing to be. . . well. . . icky. Goose pimples lined my arms and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The atmosphere was alight with dark forces, and it was amazing to me that the night before I’d gone through that very door with barely a pause. It was likely a testament to how exhausted both Heath and I were that we didn’t halt and refuse to go beyond the doorway.
Still, nothing super creepy jumped out at me, and I figured we could get into my room, grab the stuff, and get out before anything too terrible happened.
After another few seconds of checking the ether, I motioned silently to John and we continued on.
We moved along the hallways, and I was relieved to see that somehow I remembered the way. At last John and I entered the hallway leading to my room, which was drafty and cold—much colder than the hallway feeding into it.
I held up my hand and we both halted so that I could assess the situation. There was a foreboding feeling that snaked its way through this corridor in particular.
John leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You guys actually stayed here last night?”
Obviously he could feel it too. “Get your spikes out and stay close to me,” I whispered back.
I took out four spikes from the containers strapped to the loops of my utility belt and took a big breath before making my way down to the door of our room. The feeling of something nasty in the air was getting thicker, settling in both in front of us and from behind. In fact, I seemed to be feeling it from all directions. By the look on John’s face I knew he felt it too. His eyes darted all around the hallway and he held his spikes up like he was ready to charge at anything that might jump out and go boo.
Then again, the more I looked at him, the more I thought he might chuck the spikes and make a run for it. He was as scared as I’ve ever seen him, and John doesn’t scare easily.
“You okay?” I whispered.
His eyes cut to me and he leaned forward to speak softly. “Let’s get your stuff and get the hell out of here!”
I wanted to tell him to stand guard at the door while I packed, but with my stuff and Heath’s I already knew it’d be too much for me to carry. “Okay, let’s get in, throw anything you find that belongs to me or Heath in a bag, and get out fast.”
John’s eyes were still scanning the hallway, but at least he nodded.
I was about to turn the handle on the door when an involuntary shudder went through me. The awful energy permeating the hallway seemed to ratchet up a notch. I looked all around again, but I couldn’t sense its direction. It seemed to be coming at us from all directions. I shivered again, recalling the terrible presence of that evil energy that’d chased me through the hallways and slammed against our door. In a near panic, I turned the handle, but it was locked. With my own fear mounting I tucked my spikes into the waistband of my jeans and searched my pockets, finally coming up with the old key, which—miraculously—hadn’t fallen out of my back pocket when I’d gone into the moat. After inserting the key with shaking fingers, I turned the handle, but the door was stuck. All the while I felt the malevolent energy grow thicker and more pervasive, and I just wanted to get the hell out of that hallway, because I couldn’t pinpoint the source or the direction, but I knew that danger was very close.
“It’s stuck!” I told John. He pressed his weight into me and shoved on the door. I could feel him trembling too, and knew he was just as affected by the surge of evil all around us as I was. I put my hip against the door and gave it a good hard bump, and the door opened abruptly, as if it hadn’t been stuck at all.
Stumbling forward with an involuntary squeak, I let go of the handle to catch myself on the wall. Behind me I heard John cry out with fright and I straightened up and looked back at him, but he was staring past me, into the room toward the bed.
My eyes darted to the bed, and there, floating just above it, was the figure of the Grim Widow, pale white, dressed in rags with her wild eyes and even wilder hair. She sneered at me in the most malevolent way before hissing like an angry cat and flying toward me as if she meant to grab me up.
I screamed and put my arms up defensively, but John got between us first, and thrust two of those spikes right into her. She shrieked so loud my ears rang and she whirled away from the two of us, hissing again as she went.
John looped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me back into him protectively while keeping his spikes pointed toward the Widow. For a minute we both stood there frozen in terror. “Do something!” he finally yelled.
I reached for my own spikes, but what I could do against this wretched ghost was anybody’s guess.
Meanwhile the Widow spat at us and began climbing up the far wall on all fours like something right out of a horror movie. I’d never seen a ghost do that before and I felt a new level of fear turn my cold blood even colder.
Behind me, John was trembling so hard that I was convinced he was on the verge of passing out. “Ma. . . ma. . . move!” I yelled at him, hauling up my spikes when the Widow reached the ceiling and began to climb upside down along it toward us.
But John didn’t budge, so I pushed him hard with my back. “Move, move, move!”
That seemed to do the trick, and John let go of me and took off out the door. I followed right on his heels, not brave enough to even look back. We raced through the corridor and at every step that awful sinister presence dogged us. I ducked low as I ran, the image of the Widow crawling along the ceiling replaying over and over in my mind, and I felt close to panic when I thought about her at my back or, worse, overhead.
At the end of the hallway John turned left instead of right and I cried out to him, but he was too panicked to hear me. A cackling laugh filled the atmosphere—it surrounded me and seemed to vibrate right through my body.
I stopped at the juncture and shouted out to him again, but he continued down that hallway as if he hadn’t heard me at all. For a few seconds I watched him anxiously, trying to decide what to do. He was running so fast I didn’t think I could catch him. But as I wavered, I saw a dark shadow emerge from the doorway of one of the rooms between me and John.
It was large and catlike and simply radiated evil. As it came out from the door, it crouched low before giving chase to my friend.
“John!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and took off after him. The black shadow loped along, gaining ground on John. As I ran, I brought up one fist to eye level, and saw that I still clutched two spikes. With grim determination I put on a burst of speed, gained a little ground, then threw my spike right at that black shadow.
It struck the thing dead cente
r and the effect was immediate. It was as if my spike had blown it into a dozen smaller pieces. It broke apart in front of my eyes and there was also this terrible sound accompanying the dissipation. The best I can describe it was that it was like a shriek from something definitely otherworldly.
The black pieces of the shadow flung against the wall, and for a minute I thought that I’d vanquished it, but then the most terrible thing happened. . . . Those individual black little blobs began to scurry along the walls and floor and even the ceiling, moving like inky spiders after John.
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” I cried, hardly believing my eyes. “What the hell are you?”
I’d never seen or heard of anything like it, but one thing was for certain, and that was that John was in very real danger. Putting on another burst of speed, I charged forward, raising my remaining spikes high as I shouted out a primal war cry.
At last, John heard me, and I saw him glance over his shoulder. His eyes took me in first, then the little globs of black evil chasing after him. He shrieked in fear and lost his footing. I watched him reach out instinctively and grasp at the wall. His hand connected with a small sconce and for a moment he was able to prevent himself from hitting the floor, but then the sconce gave way and there was a grating sound. The next thing I knew, John’s upper body had disappeared from sight!
Chapter 5
I shouted out to John for a fourth time as his feet lifted up off the ground and followed his torso into the wall. I heard him cry out as well, and watched in horror as all those black little globs dived after him. “John!” I screamed, running as fast as I could to close the distance between us. As I came abreast of him, I could see that he hadn’t actually disappeared directly into the wall; he’d fallen into a narrow gap that had opened when he’d pulled on the sconce—a secret passageway, no doubt—and as I came to a stop, I could see that the newly opened gap led to a circular staircase. John’s feet were at the top of the stairs and he was sort of sprawled out on the next few steps leading down. There was no sign of the little black demons, but that might have been because the staircase was barely visible by the dim lighting in the hallways and I couldn’t see much in the darkness.