Chapter Two #2
His eyes fill with an understanding that catches me off guard. Understanding is not what I was expecting and it’s not what I’m used to. Barely contained horror is the look I normally get.
‘And that?’ He points at the angry red bump on my forehead. ‘Did your ghost do that?’
‘More the wall it threw me against.’ I prod at the bump and wince.
‘Don’t poke at it.’
He reaches across the desk and pulls my hand from my face. Warmth rushes up my arm from his touch, as that intangible thing I felt from the moment we met stutters in my heart. I quickly snatch my hand away.
The realisation of what he just did flashes across his eyes, and he wiggles back in his chair. He clears his throat.
‘So, this dream of yours. What was it about? Last night’s job, or something else?’
‘Not job related. I don’t know what it was, just that it was… different.’
‘Do you think there’s anything to it? I know your magic never worked like that before, but it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, so I wasn’t sure if—’
‘I’m not comfortable with the term “magic”, it sounds witchy. I just see ghosts and, given the chance, cease their existence. That’s all I can do.’
‘ All you can do?’ He chuckles. ‘I still haven’t met anyone else like you, and believe me, I’ve looked. Magic or not, you’ve got to admit you’re something special, Holly Daniels.’
I scowl as I shuffle some papers on my desk. ‘Something special’ was not how he last described me. ‘What’s the job you need help on?’ I ask, bluntly. Time to move this conversation along.
‘Yeah, okay, onto the job. Hang onto your hat. It’s…’ He plays a drumroll on the desk with his fingers. ‘The Western house.’
I blink. The name means nothing to me. ‘Should I know what that is?’
His shoulders droop. ‘It’s only one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. Possibly America.’ He sits back again.
I shrug.
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Seriously? The Western house. It’s the holy grail of paranormal investigation, Holly. The holy grail.’
‘Ohhh. Okay.’ I don’t get as excited about ghosts as Callum does. Mainly because I hate them. And I don’t need to go looking for hauntings, they come to me. ‘But as I haven’t heard of it, maybe you could fill me in.’
‘Fine,’ he says with uncontained exasperation.
‘It’s out on Long Island and has reportedly been haunted for generations.
But the Western family are notoriously reclusive, so no one knows the truth.
They’ve declined every request from every paranormal investigator and ghostbusting show around.
The house is currently vacant, has been for a while.
I guess the Western who owns it now is too creeped out to live there. ’
‘If no one’s living there, there’s not much chance of it being an active haunting.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do know that, and so do you. People always think ghosts haunt buildings, but in my experience, they haunt the people who live there. That’s why most of the places you investigate turn up empty – because they’re deserted buildings. If the people are long gone, the ghosts will be too.’
His eyes narrow as he slumps further into his chair. ‘There are a lot of stories about this house, and in my experience, where there’s smoke, there’s nearly always fire. I know about this shit, Holly. It’s a famous haunting.’
‘Which has never been investigated.’
‘That doesn’t mean the stories aren’t true.’
‘Or that they are.’
‘Which is why they’ve decided they want it investigated.’ He glowers at me. ‘Are you deliberately trying to push my buttons?’
‘I’m giving you my opinion. Isn’t that why you’re here?’
His still-narrowed eyes study me. Then he sighs and relaxes. ‘Yep, of course, sorry.’
A beat of guarded silence hangs between us. I quicky fill it.
‘So, how did you end up talking the family into giving you permission?’
Callum instantly perks back up. ‘That’s the best part – I didn’t. They contacted me. Let me find the email.’ He scrolls through his phone for a second, then hands it to me before snatching it back. ‘Just don’t go looking through my photos. I’d hate for you to see more of me than you bargained for.’
I grab the phone from him. ‘Believe me, Callum, I’d hate that too.’
He chuckles, and it’s deep and husky, and I’m instantly transported back to the times we sat in his office watching YouTube clips, laughing at the hosts of other ghost shows overreacting to every creaky floorboard. Laughing about ghosts. I remember that being a first for me.
The spark of something I’ve tried to convince myself was long extinguished flickers with warmth inside me. A memory of happiness, a tickle of past hope. Then I think about the last time I saw Callum, shove the feelings back down and focus on the email.
Dear Mr Jefferies,
I have been asked to commission you to investigate the disturbances reported at the Western home in East Mill, Long Island.
Mr Edward Western, the owner of the property, believes you have the necessary background to assist him, and is eager for you to be involved.
Please call me to discuss. We’d like to move forward as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Albert Rosing, on behalf of Edward Western
‘So this Edward Western man must know you specialise in investigating rumoured hauntings,’ I say. ‘Is he a fan of your podcast?’
‘He’s not a subscriber, I checked, and he’s not on my mailing list. Maybe he’s just heard of me, or came across me on YouTube, did a Google search.
I don’t know. Anyway, I called this Rosing dude.
He was weirdly evasive for someone who supposedly wants to give me a job.
I asked when I could meet with his boss, and all he said was Western is out of town.
So, he’ll be the point of contact for now. ’
Callum removes the lid of his coffee and licks off the leftover froth on the underside of the plastic, before running his tongue over his lips, gathering a smudge of chocolate.
I try not to stare but it’s really hard not to.
So I steal a glance at his tattoos instead.
Dark ink against pale skin, weaving up the muscles of his forearm.
A series of interconnecting Celtic knots he once told me honoured his family. When I look up again, he’s watching me.
I promptly lift my wastepaper basket. ‘Are you quite finished with that coffee?’
He tosses the cup inside. ‘The froth is the best bit, don’t you think?’ One brow quirks.
I look away, drop the basket to the floor, and ignore his question. ‘What do you know about the haunting?’ I ask.
‘Right. Okay so, at least two different ghosts have been reported, sighted multiple times. One is a young woman with long fair hair seen wandering the grounds. She’s never been named, but I assume she must have died on the estate.
So maybe staff and not family? She’s said to wear a white dress, and rumour has it she may have taken her own life after being jilted by her lover.
But given that no one knows who she is, I’m not sure where that story comes from.
The other haunting is more specific. It’s believed to be Margaret Western, who would have been Edward Western’s great-great-grandmother.
She would have been alive sometime during the 1800s, likely died in the house.
She’s been seen throughout the building, but most often lingering around the staircase. ’
‘Are any of these encounters recorded as violent?’
‘That’s something we should ask. There’s not a lot of info out there.’
I note his use of ‘we’ and ignore it. ‘Then where are these stories coming from?’
‘The family and staff who’ve lived and worked in the house, I assume, and local residents of East Mill.’
‘So the family wants you to debunk the stories or confirm they’re true?’
‘Yep, and once I’ve done that, I’ll brief Edward Western and he’ll decide how to move forward.
I’ll then be free to discuss the investigation as part of my podcast. I’ve already started teasing it.
My subscribers are going crazy. Unfortunately, Western has said no to any video or audio recordings at the property – did I mention they’re reclusive?
– so I won’t be taking a crew. It’ll be just you and me. ’
‘I haven’t said I’m coming.’
‘Yet.’ He grins. ‘Google the house.’
He lugs his chair around to my side of the desk and wiggles in beside me as I log into my laptop. He’s close, very close, and he smells of chocolate and coffee and something else, a scent I remember as being just him.
‘The most recent info I could find about the family was an obit on Brendin Western,’ Callum says, ‘Edward’s uncle and last resident of the house.
There’s also an article in the local paper about the Western house being left vacant after his death.
A town committee wanted to take over management of the place, because of its historical significance, but Edward Western refused – I assume because he wants to live there.
I couldn’t find much on him, other than the occasional mention of his name. The guy is a ghost. No pun intended.’
‘You didn’t find anything on Edward Western?’
‘Like I said, a mention here and there, but other than that…’ He shrugs. ‘He must keep one hell of a low profile. I’ve asked Rosing to send through any information about the house and the family that might be useful while I wait to interview Western.’