Chapter 4
Chapter Four
T he control room of Blackwood Manor hummed with an eerie silence in the wake of the supernatural display. The acrid scent of ozone still lingered in the air, mingling with the musty odor of old books and the faint hint of pumpkin spice that seemed to permeate every corner of Oriskany Falls. Dash tried to process what he’d just witnessed, but there was no logical explanation for what he’d seen.
He looked from Slate to Liv, searching for any sign that this was all an elaborate hoax. Neither would meet his gaze. “I know you two know what happened,” Dash said, his voice shakier than he’d like. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he thought he’d outgrown. “What the heck did I just see?”
Slate exchanged a glance with Liv and she shrug-nodded. Slate’s usual charismatic smile was replaced by a somber expression. “Blackwood Manor isn’t just a haunted attraction, Dash. It’s genuinely haunted.”
Liv smiled like she’d been waiting for Slate’s confession. She clutched her leather-bound notebook to her chest like a shield. “The paranormal activity here has been documented for generations. What you just saw? That’s a low-level event. Worse are coming.”
Dash shook his head, clinging to his skepticism like a lifeline. The logical part of his brain scrambled for explanations. “There has to be a rational explanation. Maybe it’s some kind of advanced holographic technology? Or a sophisticated AR system?”
Deep down, Dash knew none of those were true. Slate wouldn’t have pulled a prank like that on him. At least he didn’t think he would.
“I wish all this was just a hoax,” Slate said. He moved closer, but Dash backed away. “The truth is my family’s been dealing with these spirits for almost a century.”
As if on cue, a bone-chilling wail echoed through the manor, causing all three of them to jump. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, reverberating through Dash’s very bones. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a primal response to the otherworldly noise.
“That wasn’t special effects, was it?” he asked, already knowing the answer but desperately hoping to be proven wrong.
“No, it wasn’t,” Slate said, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but?—”
The room plunged into darkness, and the temperature dropped dramatically. A faint, bluish glow emanated from the center of the room. Dash saw his breath misting in the air. The light coalesced into a translucent, humanoid shape. The figure of a woman in Victorian-era clothing slowly materialized, her features eerily similar to the photograph Liv had shown them earlier.
Dash stumbled backward until he hit the wall. His heart pounded so hard he felt it bang against his sternum. The rush of blood in his ears almost drowned out the ghostly whispers that filled the room. “What the hell is that?”
“That appears to be the ghost of Esmerelda Blackwood,” Liv whispered, her fear mixed with more than a hint of fascination.
The spectral figure turned its gaze on Dash, its hollow eyes seeming to peer into his very soul. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur and shift. Strange images flashed through his mind: a moonlit garden, a hidden room filled with arcane symbols, a swirling vortex of otherworldly energy, and two words. “Help Slate.”
As quickly as they came, the visions vanished, leaving Dash disoriented and shaken.
Slate moved protectively in front of Dash, his voice firm as he addressed the apparition. “Great-great-grandmother, Dash means you no harm. I’m working to fix things. Please, return to your rest.”
The ghost’s mouth moved, but instead of words, a cacophony of whispers filled the room. The equipment around them sparked and sputtered, monitors flashing with strange symbols and fragmented images. The air crackled with an unseen energy, making Dash’s skin tingle uncomfortably.
As suddenly as it had appeared, the spectral figure vanished. In her wake, she left a lingering chill. The room was plunged back into normal lighting, the abrupt change almost as jarring as the ghostly encounter itself.
Dash slid down the wall, his legs no longer able to support him. Thoughts whizzed through his head as he tried to reconcile what he’d just experienced with reality. “That... that was real, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Slate knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on Dash’s left shoulder. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the lingering chill in the air. “I’m sorry, Dash. I should have been more upfront about the true nature of Blackwood Manor. Are you okay?”
Dash nodded numbly, his gaze unfocused. “I think so. It’s just... everything I thought I knew about the world has just been turned upside down.”
When he looked up, he saw the weariness in Slate’s eyes. Dash recalled what Slate had said to his ancestor. “How do you deal with this on a daily basis?”
Liv joined them and crouched on Dash’s right. She opened her notebook to a fresh page and scribbled something Dash couldn’t see. “The Blackwood family has been dealing with these spirits for generations. Slate’s the only one of his generation with the gift.”
“I don’t deal with it every day,” Slate said. “Things aren’t usually this active. Something’s changed.”
Slate helped Dash to his feet, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. Their eyes met, and Dash felt a spark of connection that had nothing to do with the supernatural.
He tried to push it away. Who in their right mind would get involved in this craziness?
“That’s why we need your help, Dash,” Slate said. “We think the increased paranormal activity might be linked to the malfunctioning equipment. Your expertise could be crucial in figuring out what’s going on.”
Dash shook his head. “You know it’s not the equipment, and my coding expertise can’t solve this problem. Why am I really here?”
Liv gave Slate a “told you so” look, and walked away.
“Coward,” Slate hissed at her back. He took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Dash. “I really don’t know. When you showed up at the gate yesterday, I felt you. Or at least I felt someone at the gate.”
“He’s been waiting for you,” Liv said without looking up from her book.
“Waiting for me?”
Slate shot daggers into his friend’s back, “Not you specifically, but someone who could help me.”
Esmerelda told him to help Slate. It seemed ridiculously coincidental Dash was the person who could help and miraculously arrived at the right time. “There’s more to this. If you want my help, you need to tell me the truth.”
“EcoCode Solutions is owned by my family’s trust,” Slate said. “They’ve been searching for the right person for a few years.”
“You want me to believe your family knew the right person would be a coder.” He waved a hand at Slate. “I’m out of here. Thanks for dinner and the entertainment.”
The temperature dropped again, and the door slammed shut. At the edge of his consciousness, Dash heard Esmerelda’s voice, “Help Slate.”
Dash spun around and pointed a finger at Slate and Liv. “Stop doing that.”
“We didn’t do anything,” Slate said. “What happened?”
Turning back to the door, his words died on his lips. The door he’d watched slam shut, was still open. He tried to explain, but he couldn’t keep one thought long enough to speak. Finally, he leaned against a worktable. “This isn’t real. It’s not real. You drugged the food, didn’t you?”
“Of course I didn’t,” Slate said. “You don’t have to believe what’s happening, but don’t insult me.”
“Slate,” Liv put a hand on his arm. “This was a lot to drop on him. Give him some time.”
“No,” Dash said. “He has a right to be upset. I’m sorry, Slate. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, but I’m confused. None of this makes sense.”
The room was quiet as Dash replayed everything. Finally, he looked at Slate. “Esmerelda told me to help you. Twice. How?”
“I’m not sure.” Slate said. “This is new ground for me. I was too young to remember the last time this happened.”
“This?”
“Everything.” Slate waved his hand around the room. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”
“So, how long has this been going on?” Dash asked. “The haunting, I mean.”
Liv pulled out a leather-bound journal from her bag, its pages yellowed with age. “According to family records, it started with Esmerelda Blackwood in the 1920s. She was known as a medium, someone who could communicate with spirits.”
Slate nodded, his eyes distant as if recalling a long-ago memory. “The story goes that she opened the veil between our world and the spirit realm, intending to help lost souls find peace. But something went wrong.”
“Wrong? How?” Dash asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“The barrier became too thin,” Liv said. She sounded like a professor teaching a class. “Spirits crossed over easily, and not all of them were benevolent. Esmerelda spent the rest of her life trying to control the situation, and each generation of Blackwoods since has taken up the mantle.”
Dash paused, looking at Slate with newfound respect and concern. “So, running the haunted house is what? A way to make money?”
“Slate doesn’t need money,” Liv said. She flinched when he glared at her, and walked to the far end of the room.
“By running the haunted house, it provides cover for any weird activities that happen,” Slate said. “It’s not fool proof, but it helps. Lately, however, things have been getting out of hand.”
As if to emphasize his point, a nearby cabinet door slammed open, books and papers flying out as if caught in a windstorm. Dash ducked, narrowly avoiding being hit by a heavy tome. A strange, metallic scent floated in the air.
“Fine,” he said looking up to address whoever was watching. “I believe, but what can I do? I’m a software engineer, not a ghostbuster.”
“I honestly don’t know why you were chosen,” Slate said. “I know you’re frustrated, but I am too.”
“At least Dash is a hottie,” Liv said.
Slate turned bright red, and growled in Liv’s direction. Dash wondered how they didn’t kill each other yet. “I think you’re hot too, if that helps.”
“I’m not sure if it helps with the problem, but I’m glad you think so.” Slate’s smile was back. “Liv’s timing isn’t how I wanted it to go, but I’m not mad she told you how I feel.”
Liv certainly sped up the awkward dance they were doing, but Dash still had his reservations. “As flattered and interested as I am, we probably should focus on what’s happening instead of each other. For now at least. You’re very… distracting. In a good way. And I think I’m going to shut up before I embarrass myself more.”
The amused look on Slate’s face made Dash want to crawl in a hole. Why didn’t he just profess his undying love for the man.
“I think you’re distracting in a good way too,” Slate said.
The frenetic pace of events since he’d arrived in Oriskany Falls left Dash lurching from one event to the other. It was like having too many lines of code open and unfinished. Nothing good came of such a jumble.
“Can we take a break?” he asked. “I need some air.”