Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
D ash stood in the living room and stared at his phone. Why was this so hard? It wasn't like he was calling his parents.
The silence of the room was broken only by the ticking of the antique grandfather clock. A sudden chill ran down Dash's spine, and he could've sworn he saw a wisp of spectral mist curl around the clock's face and then wink out. Clearly, the spirits were telling him to get on with it already.
"You don't have to do this if you're not ready," Slate said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Dash's shoulder.
Dash smiled at the gesture. The support he received from Slate made him wonder why he thought being single was so wonderful. He also knew why he was stalling. He’d always had a good relationship with his grandparents, and he didn’t look forward to confronting him about something his grandfather clearly meant to keep secret.
“This can’t wait. We’re running out of time fast. If my grandfather ran the E.R.P. foundation, he might have the answers we need.”
Finding his grandfather’s number, he hit send and put the phone to his ear. The call rang three times before a surprised voice answered. “Hello?”
“Hi Grandpa. It's Dash.”
“Dash! This is a pleasant surprise. How are you, son?”
The cheery greeting was exactly how he remembered his grandfather. “I’m good, gramps, how are you and Grandma doing?”
“Not bad for a pair of retired old folks,” he said, laughing at his joke. “What are you up to? How’s the new job? Do you like Oriskany Falls? It’s a big change from the city.”
Dash smiled at how things never changed. His grandfather couldn’t ask one question when four would be more confusing. “The job is good, sorta. It was a scam of sorts. The Blackwood family targeted me to get me to move here.”
“Hmm, I see things don’t change,” Morten said in a half-whisper.
“It’s not so bad now that I’m here” Dash said. “I… um, met someone. His name is Slate. Slate Blackwood.”
“I see,” his grandfather said slowly. “And by met someone, are you dating?”
“Yes, sir.” Dash suddenly needed to defend the situation. “Slate’s been amazing, Gramps. He treats me better than I deserve.”
“Pfft. You deserve to be treated well. Sounds like that Blackwood kid has more brains than most of his family.”
Dash took a deep breath and pushed ahead. “Speaking of his family, Esmerelda paid me a visit and gave me a book great-great grandpa Ezra wrote.”
This met with a prolonged silence. “Esmerelda Blackwood? She died when I was around your age.”
“It was her ghost, Gramps. She wants me to help Slate fix what she did ninety-nine years ago.” He looked at Slate, who nodded at him. “I know that Thaddeus Reeve started the E.R.P. Foundation and you were the director until you retired a few years ago.”
“I see,” Morten said. “You've clearly inherited the family gift. There's a lot we need to discuss, but not over the phone. Why don't you come visit? Bring your friend Slate, too. If you two are dating, I think the Reeves and Blackwoods can peacefully coexist again.”
The invitation caught Dash off guard, especially the suggestion he bring Slate. “That’d be great, Gramps. What should we bring?”
“Silly grandchild, just bring yourselves,” he said with a chuckle. “Your grandmother and I will be so glad to see you. Both of you.”
Dash couldn’t hold back his smile. “Is it okay if we come tomorrow?”
“You’d better come tomorrow morning,” his grandfather said sternly. “You’re already cutting it close. The Blue Moon is in a few days.”
They said goodbye and Dash felt he had whiplash from the way the conversation went. He turned to Slate and Liv. “Grandpa wants to see us tomorrow. Are you up for a road trip?”
L iv hadn’t been happy at not being invited, but Dash couldn’t justify bringing her. They promised to take good notes, and ask the litany of questions she wrote down.
They got up before dawn to get ready for the trip. The drive to the Albany suburbs would take almost three hours, and Dash’s grandfather said to come in the morning.
Dash stopped at a gas station and filled up the tank and get snacks for the trip.
“When did you get this,” Slate asked. “It still smells new.”
Dash snorted. “I bought it right after a got the job. I didn’t need a car in the city and trying to park one would be impossible.”
“Feel free to tell me to kiss off, but do you get money from your family trust?” Slate asked.
Dash hadn’t expected the question and had to think about how to answer. “Yes, but it’s complicated. My Dad tried to cut me off after I insulted his bimbo of the month when she tried to act all motherly. That caused a delay in me getting money when I turned twenty-five. Grandpa talked to the trustees, and I got my first check earlier this year. I didn’t need the money, so I had Grandpa invest it with the rest of the trust funds.”
“I like your grandfather, but can I say your dad sounds like a dick.” Slate said.
“Dad wasn’t always like this,” Dash said. “When we were little, he was nice and we had a lot of fun. At least, that’s how I remember him.”
“You're not going to turn out like your father,” Slate said putting his hand on Dash’s leg. “You’re a good person.”
He’d heard all this before, but he was sure people told his father that at Dash’s age. “Trust me, I don’t want to be like him, especially not to you. I like you, Slate. More than I’ve liked anyone. You make me believe in myself. I’m just scared I might hurt you.”
“That’s why I know you won’t,” Slate said. “You put my happiness above yours. From what you told me about your parents, they never did that. Believe in yourself, Dash. You should be proud of who you are.”
Slate was a good person who didn’t want to see the bad in anyone. Dash didn’t think he was awful, but he wasn’t the good person Slate saw. “Thank you. I hope you’re proud of yourself too. You’re one of the best people I know.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Morten Dashiell Reeves.”
Dash nearly veered off the road when Slate used his full name. “How did…. I never told you my middle name.”
“Haven’t you figure out Liv can uncover anything she wants to know?” Slate said.
“That’s not fair,” Dash said with a laugh. “You have the world’s greatest detective for a best friend.”
“You don’t need a detective, because I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
When Slate said things like that, it made Dash want to be better. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know too. Although, thanks to Liv, you probably know more about me than I do.”
“Nope,” Slate waved a finger between them. “I didn’t ask her to investigate you. If I want to know something, I’ll ask.”
D ash called his grandparents when they were ten minutes away. His stomach felt like he had a squirrel running around inside. What if his grandfather couldn’t help them. They only had six days until Halloween.
They stopped at an ornate iron gate that opened before Dash could press the call button.
“Your grandparents must be eager to see you,” Slate said as they followed the long, winding, driveway.
Memories of visiting his grandparents flooded Dash. This had been a happy place for his sister Meredith and him. “More like they want to meet you. I’ve never officially dated anyone before.”
“Great,” Slate said with a fake frown. “You didn’t warn me this was like meeting the parents.”
Dash knew Slate was nervous. He was too, and these were people who loved him. “What part of ‘my grandparents want to meet you’ wasn’t clear?
They rounded a clump of trees and a stately Georgian-style mansion with perfectly manicured lawns and gardens came into. The house, built of red brick with white trim, exuded an air of old money and refined taste. But there was something else, too – a sense of power and mystery that seemed to pulse just beneath the surface.
“Do you feel that?” Dash asked, moving his right hand in front of him and side-to-side. “Whatever that is.”
“It’s a sign of considerable paranormal activity,” Slate said. “Your grandfather is obviously a medium and ghosts come to him for help moving on.”
Scanning the area, Dash saw faint trails of light all around. They all either started or ended at the house. “I can see it too.”
“Last night, when I helped you hear whoever was trying to speak with you, I fully awakened your gift,” Slate said. “Fortunately, it’s easier to tune it out than it is to communicate with the dead.”
They arrived at the house, and the front door opened before they got out of the car. Grandpa Morten and Grandma Millicent exited. They wore thick wool sweaters and huge smiles.
The churning in his stomach was gone, replaced by a warm fuzziness as fond memories rushed to remind him of good times he’d had in his grandparent’s home. He looked over to check on Slate, but he was staring at Dash. He had a huge grin on his face, and Dash realized he had one too.
“They, and my other grandparents, were lifelines during the worst times,” Dash said.
He walked around the car and brushed his hand against Slate’s. The offer was readily accepted, and Slate’s fingers curled around his. They climbed the steps in unison and stopped a few feet from his grandparents.
Dash wanted to swoop in for a hug, but he needed to introduce Slate first.
“Gramps, Grandma, this is Slate Blackwood. Slate, these are my grandparents, Morten and Millicent Reeves.”
He waited while they made their acquaintance, but when his grandmother turned to him, he practically launched himself into her arms. “It’s so good to see you, Dash,” she said squeezing him tight.
The hug with his grandfather wasn’t as long or as tight, but when he checked on Slate, he was watching everything, still wearing his big smile.
“Come in,” Morten said. He opened the door and let Millicent go first.
His grandmother put her arm around his waist as they walked down the hallway to the kitchen. “You look happier than I’ve seen you since before those awful days we don’t speak of in this house. I see the Blackwood boy has freed the Dash who’d been hiding all these years.”
Coffee, juices, and an assortment of pastries waited for them inside the kitchen that hadn’t changed since Dash could remember. It was the closest place to home he had anymore.
“I told Gramps, Slate treats me better than I deserve.”
“And I’ll tell you the same thing he did.” She crooked a finger at him. “That’s a bunch of goose poop. You’re a good man and he should treat you well.”
“He is and I promise I will,” Slate said from behind. “Dash makes me incredibly happy.”
They sat at the table and nibbled on the food while they talked about everything except why Dash and Slate had made the nearly three-hour drive. For a short time, Dash forgot about ghosts and closing veils, and focused on the people around him. The only two people missing were his older sister and other grandfather. He decided once Halloween past, he was going to visit both. Hopefully, Slate would go with him.
He and Slate cleared the table over his grandparent’s objects. “I still remember where everything goes,” he said. When they finished, everyone grabbed a drink and headed for a sitting room.
Dash and Slate sat next to each other on a love seat, while his grandparents sat in a pair of antique chairs across from them. The mood turned more serious, as Morten sat back and fixed his blue eyes on his grandson. “Tell me what’s happening in Oriskany Falls.”
Dash recounted his recent supernatural encounters and Slate filled in the specifics of the paranormal beings. Morten asked a few questions for clarification, but generally listened and exchanged glances with Millicent.
“I always wondered if you'd inherited the gift,” Morten mused when they had finished. “Your father never showed any signs, but you’re such a kind soul. I had a feeling it might skip a generation and land with you."
“Did Dad know about all of this?” Dash asked, gesturing vaguely to encompass the supernatural world he'd discovered.
“No, and yes.” Morten looked at the books lining a side wall. “We kept it from him when he was young, but he figured it out when he was in high school. I think he kept waiting for his gift to appear, but it didn’t.”
Dash wondered if that’s what changed his father, the realization he’d never inherit the family gift. “Your grandfather and his brother suspected he didn’t have the right temperament,” Millicent said. “The dead won’t approach someone without a kind soul. Unfortunately, none of our children had the right temperament.”
“Are you a medium too?” Dash asked her.
“No, but I’ve shared my life with your grandfather for more than fifty years.” She cast a fond look at Morten. “We don’t keep secrets.”
Dash put a finger on Slate’s hand. They’d were already more like his grandparents than his parents.
Morten got up, stopped at the desk for something, and then approached a dark wood cabinet with a lock on the front. Dash held his breath while his grandfather used a key to open the door.
“This,” Morten said, and pulled out an old, leather-bound book, “is the culmination of the E.R.P. foundation's work.”
He handed the book to Dash, who felt a familiar tingling at the base of his skull as he took it. Slate must’ve felt it too because he nodded when Dash glanced at him.
“Everything E.R.P learned about the supernatural over ninety plus years is in there.” Morten pointed toward the book. “Given what happened to my grandfather, we spent most of our energy learning how to manage and hopefully close rifts between worlds.”
Dash ran his fingers over the book’s embossed cover. This book connected him to his ancestor who tried to keep the barrier between worlds in place. “Why did you stop the foundation's work, Grandpa?”
“I got old, Dash.” Morten sighed, settling into his high-backed leather chair. “This work takes a toll. Your grandmother and I wanted to spend what time we had left enjoying ourselves, and I couldn't find anyone with the right abilities to take over.” He looked between Dash and Slate. “Hopefully, the right two people have come to me.”
Dash hadn’t even settled in his new job. He wasn’t ready to come to a new career. “We need to get past Halloween before we talk about that.”
“Of course,” his grandfather said. “In my excitement at meeting you both, I got ahead of myself.”
He’d gotten ahead of Dash and Slate too. It was too early to make plans for their future when they were still figuring out their present. “Can you help us close the weak point Esmerelda created?”
“I believe I can.” He steepled his fingers and sat up straighter. “Alone, I don’t think either of you could undo the damage she caused. It required two mediums to create a stable barrier, and I believe it will take two to permanently seal the opening Esmerelda created by herself. Unfortunately, there’s a lot for Dash to learn and not much time before the Blue Moon.”
Dash didn’t find comfort in his grandfather’s words. How was he going to learn everything in time. “Can’t you work with Slate?”
“No.” Morten shook his head. “Working together requires a level of trust only two people who are close can achieve. Ezra and Esmerelda were close childhood friends. You two have strong feelings for each other. No one else can take your place and help Slate heal this wound.
“I can walk you through our research and you two will have five days to practice. I’m confident that is more than enough time.”
True to his word, Morten spent the rest of the morning and into early afternoon teaching the two. After a late lunch, Dash and Slate prepared to go home. They had a lot of work to do before the thirty-first.
“Remember, Dash, the power isn’t in the book,” Morten said as he hugged his grandson. “It’s in you and in the bond you share with Slate. Trust in those two things and you'll succeed.”