Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
T he floorboards of Slate's living room creaked beneath Dash's feet as he paced, each step a testament to the century-old manor's history. Two weeks had passed since the discovery of Ezra's journal, yet closing the veil seemed as elusive as ever. The impending Blue Moon loomed over them, its significance weighing heavily on Dash's mind.
Most of their days and evenings were spent in research and discreet late-night discussions with Oriskany Falls’ elders Slate trusted. Despite all their work, they hadn’t discovered how to repair the damage Esmerelda had caused.
They had, however, fixed the machines and the haunted house show could proceed as planned. Slate speculated his great-great-grandmother had created the issues to keep them in the room until they discovered Ezra’s book. Since that night, everything worked perfectly again.
Another positive development was Dash’s relationship with Slate. He’d spent every night at the manor and Dash’s fears were slowly releasing their hold on him. Dash had always enjoyed sex, but Slate taught him sex with someone he cared about was infinitely better.
Each morning, they'd wake up entwined in a way that eased the weariness in Dash’s soul. It was a bittersweet comfort in the storm of supernatural responsibility that had engulfed them.
Dash's leg bounced under the desk as he finished his project for the morning. Slate had offered to speak to his parents, who ran the family trust, about giving Dash a paid leave of absence, but Dash declined. Work, coding work, grounded him so he didn’t spend the whole day thinking about Ezra's leather-bound journal sitting on the coffee table.
A mug of hot chocolate appeared to the right of his laptop, followed by a pair of strong hands massaging his upper back. Dash leaned into Slate’s touch, still not sure what he’d done to deserve someone so sweet and amazing. “I can't get any work done when you spoil me like this.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Slate said, not stopping his ministrations. “Are you almost done? I’m running out of things to keep myself busy.”
Dash laughed. “What did you do before you met me?”
“Sat around wishing I could meet a hot, sexy man who made me happy.”
It was an incredibly sweet thing to say, but it resurrected Dash’s insecurities. What had he done to make Slate think he was so wonderful? Was whatever they had simply a case of proximity or common family history? Dash could point to a hundred good things about Slate, but he struggled to find even a handful about himself.
“I can be done in a few minutes.” Dash had a shitty poker face, and was glad he had his back to Slate. “But it’s my turn to make lunch. You’ve done it all week, as well as breakfast and dinner when we don’t eat out.”
“There are no turns.” He pulled his hands away and leaned in to kiss Dash’s cheek. “And lunch is being delivered and it comes with a side of Olivia.”
Dash smiled at Slate’s description. Despite all the time they spent with Liv, she never felt like a third wheel. She was respectful when they needed to be alone but otherwise she was fun to be around. “Can I at least pay for lunch? This totally hot guy I’m dating rigged it so his family is paying me a boatload of money more than my job is worth.”
“If you can convince Mr. and Mrs. Chen to take your money, go for it,” Slate said. “I’ve stopped beating my head against the wall.”
Dash had met Liv’s parents, and he agreed with Slate’s assessment. “Give me five minutes, and I should be done.”
Slate kissed him again before leaving quietly. It amazed Dash how much his life had changed in three weeks. Mostly for the best.
Five minutes later, Dash entered the kitchen. Liv and Slate were talking quietly in a way Dash knew meant they didn’t want him to hear their conversation. “What did I do this time?”
“What makes you think we were talking about you?” Slate asked.
He had the worst ‘busted’ face Dash had ever seen. Frowning, Dash kept his gaze on Slate until he caved. “Fine, it is about you, but you didn’t do anything. Liv found some interesting information about your family.”
The words Slate used and the way the two were talking suggested Dash might not like the information. Also, why did she research his family?
Before he could ask any questions, Liv eagerly pulled out her notebook and flipped the pages. The way her hair was tied back in a messy bun with strands escaping to frame her face, Dash knew she’d been working on this for a while.
“As you know, your family and Slate’s founded this town in the late 1600s. Both families made their fortune in wheat, lumber, and trading furs with the Indians. Dash, your family eventually sold most of its land and invested in canals, railroads, salt, and other industrial concerns. Slate’s family kept the land longer. They expanded their acreage by clearing the land and selling the timber.”
“That’s very interesting,” Dash said. “But it’s not helpful.”
“You said your family has a trust, but did you know Ezra Reeves’s younger brother created a foundation to investigate paranormal activity?”
At the mention of his great-great grandfather’s name, Dash felt a familiar tingling sensation at the base of his skull. The first time he felt it, he thought someone was behind him, trying to get his attention. There wasn’t anyone there, and the episodes had become more frequent lately. This was the first time it happened in response to someone saying Ezra’s name.
“I didn’t know that.”
“The foundation has had four directors. Thaddeus Reeves, Ezra’s brother created the foundation. When he retired, Henry Reeves, Ezra’s son took over. After Henry died, his youngest son, Morten Reeves assumed control. About five years ago, he retired and because he couldn’t find anyone to take over, he ended the foundations work.”
The odd feeling returned again. “My grandfather ran a foundation focused on paranormal activity?”
“You got it, hot stuff.” Liv smiled like she’d solved the mystery of life. “Guess who he sold the building to?”
“My family,” Slate said. “Dad mentioned something about buying an old building that might have things that could help with the paranormal activity, but we didn’t find anything useful. I can’t believe they never mentioned Ezra Reeves or his family’s involvement.”
“I doubt they knew.” Liv said. “The official incorporation of the foundation had no mention of the Reeve’s family. It was a private entity, so it didn’t have to publish its members or any information it didn’t want the public to know.”
“If everything was so secret, how did you find out?” Dash asked.
Liv smiled and tapped Ezra’s book. “Esmerelda left a note in a margin about Thaddeus creating the E. R. P. foundation to investigate paranormal activity. I did some digging, found old records and pieced together the rest.”
For the next few minutes, Slate and Liv discussed her investigation. Dash tried to follow their conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting. The weird sensation and the E.R.P. were connected. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew it was true. A sound poked at his consciousness. He strained to hear it, and realized it was a whisper in his mind.
The thought someone was inside his brain freaked him out, but he wanted to hear what it was saying. No matter how hard he tried, it remained maddeningly out of range.
“Dash?” Slate's voice cut through the ethereal whispers. “Are you okay?”
He stared blankly at Slate for a second, trying to understand what was happening. “Maybe? I feel like something is trying to communicate with me, but I can’t hear what it’s trying to say.”
“Voices?” Slate's eyes narrowed slightly. “Can you describe them?”
Dash hadn’t expected Slate to believe him, so the request caught him off guard. “It’s like someone is whispering, but I’m not close enough to hear them. The more I try to make out the words, the softer the voice becomes. I want to scream it the speaker to either tell me what they want to say or leave me alone.”
He’d expected Slate would be dubious, but instead he seemed more concerned. “Is it like a mosquito that you hear in the dark but isn’t close?”
“Yes!” Dash said. “And I keep listening hoping it will go away, but it lingers just at the edge of my hearing.”
“Let’s try something,” Slate said. He took Dash’s hands in his and squeezed gently. “Close your eyes and think of someone close to you that died. It doesn’t matter who, just a person you can remember.”
Dash cleared his mind and thought of his maternal grandmother. All his grandparents had been islands in the storm for Dash and his sister, and he had fond memories of all of them. Grandma Joyce had gotten sick when he was a sophomore in college and died a month later.
He pictured her smiling like he’d hung the moon every time he walked in her door. How she raised such a spiteful daughter he never understood.
“Now, without losing the image, think of saying hello to her spirit.” Slate’s voice was soft and reassuring. “Just a simple greeting, not a conversation. Remember to keep the person you’re thinking of in the front of your thoughts.”
Dash followed the instructions, and waited for what to do next. When Slate didn’t say anything, Dash focused on the silence, eager to hear more.
It was so quiet in the room Dash heard his pulse throbbing in his ear. The buzz at the edge of his hearing returned, but instead of hovering out of reach, it seemed to come closer. Clearer this time, he almost made out the words, but not quite.
Remembering Slate’s last instructions, he kept Grandma Joyce’s face in his mind. Four words emerged from the buzz. They were repeated over and over, but there was no context.
The voice spoke for another few seconds, before it faded away. When it was gone, so was the tingling at the back of his neck. Slowly, Dash opened his eyes, almost afraid of what he’d see. Slate watched him with a hopeful gaze that quickly turned into a smile.
“What just happened?” Dash asked. “Was that really Grandma Joyce I heard?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it,” Slate said. “When I first showed signs of being a medium, I used to complain about the same thing. My grandmother taught me that trick. No matter how much you want to hear what’s being said, a part of you is afraid of the unknown. By picturing someone you’d like to speak to, the dead aren’t so scary and usually it works. Like it did with you.”
Across the room, Liv watched the exchange with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “Did you learn anything that will help?” She asked.
Dash squeezed Slate’s fingers and took a deep breath. “Not specifically, but in general I think it did,” he said with a shaky voice. “I think I know who we can ask for help.”