Chapter Twelve
I quickly make my way to my room. I need time to catch my breath and process what just happened.
I also need time to figure out how to tell Callum.
He’s going to be mad as hell, and I deserve it.
I did exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.
I push open our adjoining door, sighing in relief to find Callum’s room empty, then lock it to ensure I’m left alone.
I brush my teeth, rinsing my mouth over and over to wash away the sour taste of vomit.
I toss my jacket on a chair, then drop onto the edge of my bed and take a series of deep breaths, enjoying the sensation of the air travelling freely through my body.
How could I have been so stupid to go there alone after what happened the other night?
I could kick myself for being so arrogant.
This is not my usual haunting, and that place is obviously dangerous.
I suddenly remember the accident Ola Hutchings mentioned and grab my laptop. Why the hell didn’t I do this before? I’m not thinking clearly. A search brings up an article from the East Mill Gazette .
The article is dated nine months ago. Two men who’d been working on the Western property had a violent argument which left one of the men dead.
He was beaten to death with a flashlight.
The man who survived was found wandering in the lane adjacent to the property, covered in blood.
He said he had no memory or knowledge of his coworker’s death, and was taken to the hospital for assessment.
Upon examination, he was found to have fingernail scratches around his neck.
I rush to the mirror and check my own neck. There’s a red welt on one side where I scratched at myself as I desperately gasped for air.
I return to the article, my hands shaking again.
Based on evidence from under the dead man’s nails, investigators concluded that the dead man had attempted to throttle the surviving man, who fought him off using the flashlight, ultimately killing him in self-defence.
That man is now under psychiatric care, awaiting further investigation before a possible manslaughter trial.
I scroll down to the smiling photo accompanying the article and my hand flies to my mouth. These men weren’t tradesmen. I recognise one of them. They were paranormal investigators.
I don’t even remember falling asleep, but when I wake up my feet are still on the floor, my laptop is still open across my thighs, and Richard Browling’s smiling face is still staring back at me.
He’s a parapsychologist and amateur ghost hunter who’s called me for advice a few times.
We even had coffee once. He’s a nice man – a little na?ve and starry-eyed about the paranormal, but nice all the same.
He always talked about helping people, that’s why he wanted to do the work.
I can’t picture him beating someone to death with a flashlight, in self-defence or otherwise.
He has a wife he adores and a couple of kids he dotes on. He showed me pictures of them.
I slam my laptop closed, groaning at the groggy daytime-nap feeling and the headache accompanying it.
Checking the time, I see it’s nearly 1 pm.
I force myself up, splash water on my face and throw back a couple of painkillers.
I knock on our adjoining door, but there’s no answer, so I peek inside again. Callum’s still not there.
I grab my phone and text him.
Where are you?
At the Maddison. Where are you?
You’re not in your room.
We’re in the lounge. Jason’s here.
Callum is sitting in an armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
I vaguely recognise his friend, Jason, sitting opposite him.
His legs are so long, his knees are bent up comically high, courtesy of the low couch he’s perched on.
His skin is fair, though not as fair as Callum’s, and his jet-black hair hangs long and messy around his face.
He spots me as I enter the room, and his sudden glance up makes Callum turn towards the door.
‘Holly! Remember Jason?’
I nod and hold out my hand. Jason stands and shakes it as I crane my neck looking up at him. He’s a beanpole, a lanky six-four at least. His eyes are a piercing blue rimmed with the blackest of lashes, and his smile is wide and warm and makes me like him instantly.
‘Nice to see you again,’ I say quickly, then I turn to Callum. ‘We need to talk.’
He stands, suddenly all business, his own smile vanishing.
‘What happened?’ he says.
‘Don’t be mad, but…’ There’s a quiver in my voice. ‘I went to the house.’
Callum’s jaw drops. ‘You did what?’ He’s mad. ‘Holly, what the hell? The place is dangerous! You said you wouldn’t go there without me.’
‘I know. I didn’t mean to.’
‘Then why the hell did you?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even remember driving there. Suddenly I was pulling up outside the gates. And I wasn’t alone, I was with Mr Rosing. He was finishing up some gardening and checking out the damage from the other night. Our damage, not that he knows that.’
Callum stares at me, head shaking, his eyes fierce.
‘Anyway, he offered to walk me around the grounds. It was all very innocent until, well, I went to check out the family graveyard and something happened.’ My knees suddenly turn to Jell-O.
Jason quickly reaches out to steady me as I wobble. ‘Woah.’
‘I’m okay,’ I say, obviously not.
‘I’ve got you,’ Callum says, his hand on the small of my back, as he guides me to the couch. He sits in front of me, so close our knees touch. ‘Okay.’ His voice is gentle now. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’
His fierce eyes have softened, his anger now concern. My taut nerves begin to loosen. I feel safe again, here with Callum, like this is where I should be.
I take a deep breath and tell him the whole story – the bits I remember at least. When I finish, he leans forward with a sigh and places his hands over mine.
‘That was colossally stupid of you,’ he says. ‘My-level stupid.’
‘You must be rubbing off on me.’ I smile. He doesn’t.
‘Can we keep it to just one person doing stupid things in this duo? You’re supposed to be the smart one.’
‘I thought you were the smart one.’ This time he smiles. ‘I know, I shouldn’t have gone to the house, but like I said, I didn’t mean to and then with Mr Rosing there I thought—’
‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.’
His hands encircle mine now, his thumb gently stroking back and forth across my skin.
My gaze dips from his eyes to his lips, then down the smooth curve of his neck to the vein that pumps there, its rhythm matching my own heartbeat.
Fast. Speeding up with every flutter. Then I find his eyes again, the green seeming to deepen.
It’s as if time stops, and I don’t want it to start back up. I want to hang onto this moment, revel in his gentle touch, the heat building inside of me with every graze of his thumb.
‘Ahem.’ Jason clears his throat.
I slide my hand out from under Callum’s and sit back full of flutters.
‘Are you sure you’re okay now?’ Jason asks.
‘I’m sure. I’m a little frightened, and feel a lot stupid, but I’m okay.’
Callum sits back too, his fingers steepled in thought. ‘And this all happened under the oak tree from your dream?’
‘The view of the house, everything was the same.’
‘And the voice?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. It was different from the other one.’
‘The other one?’ Jason asks.
‘Holly’s hearing voices,’ Callum says.
‘Just one voice. Or maybe two.’ I rub my brow. ‘To be honest, the one from today could have been inside my head.’
Callum sits forward again. ‘Was it like possession or something?’
‘You mean like The Exorcist ? No. And I’ve never seen anyone being possessed. Certainly, none of my clients have ever claimed that’s happened to them, so I don’t know that I believe in it. Do you?’
‘You’re thinking movie possession,’ he says, ‘spinning heads and projectile vomiting. Real possession can manifest as a darkness that the victim feels around them all the time. An oppressive energy invading their dreams and thoughts, preventing them from functioning normally, maybe causing them to display violent, anti-social behaviour. There are some pretty well-documented cases of what’s believed to be true demonic possession.
Of course, most people who claim to be possessed are suffering from a mental health issue, which is why the church rarely condones exorcisms anymore.
’ He leans in closer. ‘But… there’s also spirit possession, which can manifest as either a spirit attachment or the sensation of another entity entering your body.
Which could also be called channelling.’ He lifts his brows at me.
‘I think you know a little about spirit attachment, at least.’
‘Well… I don’t think anything entered me.
It was more like something tapped into my feelings.
Or my fears. I can’t remember it all, but it was as if my life was draining away and I was okay with it.
Then Mr Rosing called my name, and that brought me around.
Thank god he decided to finish up when he did. ’
‘You might need to change your opinion about him,’ Callum says.
‘No, I don’t think so. There’s something off about that man. Anyway, I think it was a warning. Something doesn’t want us here.’
‘Or something wants us here permanently,’ he offers. ‘And the face you saw? Was it a spirit?’
‘I don’t know what I saw.’ I sigh, frustrated. ‘I was still pretty out of it, and when I could finally focus, there was nothing there.’
‘Do you think it could have been the same spirit Cal saw in the window at the house?’ Jason asks.
I look from Jason to Callum.
‘He filled me in on what happened,’ Jason adds.
I frown at Callum. ‘So you do think you saw something?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know what I think anymore.’