Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m on the floor. I guess I collapsed. My body is vibrating, my hands shake, and my ears ring like that time my sister took me to see an *NSYNC tribute band and made me stand too close to the speakers.
I lift myself off the dirt and stumble to my feet.
I have no idea what just happened. Normally, the spirits fizzle out or shiver a little, and then poof, they’re gone.
They don’t hang in midair, screeching and snarling before bursting into flames, and I don’t shoot fireworks from my fingertips or pulses of electricity from my palms like Iron Man.
My heart thumps so hard against my ribs it hurts.
I fumble on the ground, searching for my flashlight.
When my fingers close around it, I flick it on and watch the beam shake in my trembling hand.
I quickly shine it around the room, illuminating every corner, wanting to make sure there’s nothing else lurking in the darkness even though I can sense the spirit is gone.
‘Callum,’ I call. I can’t cover the quiver in my voice. I stagger over to him and drop to my knees. There’s blood on his hand, pressed to his side. ‘You’re bleeding,’ I say.
‘Again,’ he says, with a weak smile. ‘Where’s Jason?’
‘He’s fine, I think.’ I turn to go to him, but Callum grabs my arm.
‘What just happened?’ he says.
‘I got rid of it. You’ve seen me do my work before.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like that. What was that light coming from you?’
I shake him off. ‘What light?’ I put my hand to his head. ‘Are you concussed?’ He stares at me, frowning.
Before he can say anything else, I turn and scramble across the floor to where Jason is. He’s chained to the wall. ‘Jason, are you okay?’ There’s fear in his face as he looks at me and my heart sinks.
‘Is this what you do?’ he asks.
‘More or less.’
‘But how?’
I shrug as casually as I can. ‘It’s a spell. A bit of Latin. No biggie.’
‘That was more than a bit of Latin, Holly.’
Callum drops beside me and flings himself at Jason. They hug.
‘Can you shine your flashlight on the lock, Holly,’ Callum says to me, then turns to Jason. ‘Let’s get you out of here, buddy.’
Callum makes quick work of picking Jason’s lock.
‘By the way,’ Jason says to me, ‘I think those plans were wrong. This house definitely has a cellar.’
‘I noticed,’ I say as I stand and roll my aching shoulders.
I shine my flashlight around again, this time taking in the room.
I recognise it instantly. I can see the scorch marks on the wall where lanterns once hung, the rough beams that crisscross the ceiling, the dirt floor.
This is where Elizabeth was murdered. The new house was built above the old cellar.
But they didn’t put it on the plans. This time they hid it.
Then I see something else. Carved into one of the beams is the sigil of the Poculum Vitae.
‘I had to pee myself, man,’ I hear Jason mumble miserably.
‘Don’t worry about it, dude,’ Callum says. ‘We’ve all been there. Holly, come on.’
I turn to see him helping Jason off the floor. ‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, casting one last glance around. ‘After you.’ I point towards the stairs with Callum’s gun, which is somehow in my hand, even though I have no memory of pulling it from my pocket.
‘What’s with the gun?’ Jason asks.
‘Tell you later,’ Callum says, glancing worriedly over his shoulder at me.
As we step out of the house and into the glare of the late morning sun, we see Albert Rosing and another man waiting at the end of the winding path.
Edward Western.
He’s tall and even more striking than in his photo. He’s dressed in a navy jacket and cream chinos, looking half his age and exactly how he did in my dream . Do not believe the witches, they lie .
He raises a hand to greet us and steps forward, ignoring me and Jason and going straight for Callum.
‘Mr Jefferies. It’s a genuine pleasure. I am so sorry we were unable to meet before now.’
Callum shakes Western’s hand and gives the man a cursory nod, then releases his grip and wipes his palm down the side of his jeans. If the older man noticed, he doesn’t flinch.
‘And Ms Daniels,’ Western says, turning to me but not offering his hand. I’m glad not to touch him. He makes my skin crawl, and his golden eyes are even stranger in person.
‘And who’s this?’ Western asks, focusing his attention on Jason.
I jump in, saying, ‘This is our colleague, Mr Wright.’
‘Good to meet you, Mr Wright.’ He smiles, casting a suspicious eye over Jason. It’s then I notice that Jason is in his jogging gear. He’s tied his windbreaker around his waist to cover the evidence of being trapped in the basement for hours.
Edward Western’s smile remains frozen on his extraordinary face. ‘I’m very happy to see that you’re all safe.’ He turns back to Callum, his strange golden eyes fixing on him. ‘Though Mr Jefferies, are you injured?’
Callum looks down at the blood staining his hand, wipes it on his shirt and tugs his jacket around him. ‘It’s nothing. An old injury that keeps opening up.’
‘You should have that seen to. Is there anything to report? Did you experience anything unusual in the house?’
Callum and I glance at each other, and an unspoken agreement passes between us. Some events do not need to be shared.
‘The house has been cleared,’ Callum says. ‘Holly took care of it.’
Edward Western looks at me now, his eyebrows raised. ‘You did?’ I nod. ‘Can you tell me what you saw?’
‘A woman. I would say from the late 1800s, based on her appearance. She wore a long dress, I couldn’t tell you the colour, but her hair was dark and pulled back in a severe bun. Thin face. Very angry. Ring any bells?’ I’m getting such a bad vibe from this guy.
His eyebrows arch, and I could be wrong, but I think I see a flash of surprise, before he smiles coolly and says, ‘That sounds as if it could be the ghost that my family members have reported seeing throughout the house.’
I nod. ‘Thought to be your great-great grandmother Margaret, right?’ I look at Callum. He’s staring at me with a heavy frown. I follow his gaze as he slowly looks back at the house. ‘You’ve tried to sort the haunting out before, haven’t you?’ I say, turning back to Western. I watch him closely.
‘Ah, yes. I see you’ve heard about Browling and Dobbs.
Such a terrible thing. There was no indication of any animosity between them when we hired them, of course.
’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘If only I had known about your services at the time. We could have got everything sorted so much sooner.’ He smiles, and I really, really don’t like it.
I size up Mr Western as he continues to talk, consulting with Mr Rosing about next steps, asking Jason if he jogs daily, discussing what Callum can and can’t use on his podcast. I hope I look half as good in my eighties as he does.
He’s a remarkable-looking man, and extremely well preserved for his age.
I find myself wondering what he looked like when he was younger. He must have been quite spectacular.
‘You’ll need to drop by and visit Rosing tomorrow, just to sign some paperwork he’s preparing,’ Western says.
‘But I’ll let you all be on your way. Once again, Mr Jefferies, my apologies for not being available to you sooner.
I cannot tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting you – both of you,’ he adds, turning to me.
‘It has been an immense pleasure. I hope our paths will cross again.’
I shudder. I really hope they don’t.
We take Jason back to Maddison House and stay with him while he showers and packs up his room.
Then we walk him to his car, not wanting to leave him alone for a single second.
He has no idea what happened to him. He explains that he couldn’t sleep after we got back from the bar, so he decided to go for a quick jog.
Next thing he knew, he was shackled in the cellar of the Western house.
He didn’t see or hear anybody until we arrived.
‘I’m sorry I can’t be more help,’ he says. ‘There’s nothing there. It’s blank. I’m going to have nightmares about it.’ He tosses his bag into the trunk of his car. ‘You know, we should probably call the cops. I was fucking kidnapped.’
Callum rests his hand on Jason’s shoulder. ‘Do you really want to do that?’
Jason shrugs. ‘I guess not. What would I say? A ghost grabbed me?’ He laughs.
Callum hugs him tight. ‘Dude, I’m really sorry you got dragged into my mess. So fucking sorry. Text me every fifteen minutes until you’re home, okay?’
I give Jason a quick hug, then step away and let the two friends say goodbye.
They’re leaning on Jason’s car and talking quietly.
Going over what happened, I guess. Callum puts a hand to his forehead, shaking his head over and over.
Jason pats his back, then pulls him into another tight hug.
They stand locked in an embrace for several long seconds before Jason steps away and looks at his friend, his hands on his shoulders, and says, ‘You’ve got to do it.
It’ll be okay.’ I have a feeling they’re talking about me, and I don’t think I like it.
‘Everything alright?’ I ask, as Callum stands beside me and we wave Jason off.
‘Yep,’ he says. ‘Happy ending, right? Just got to sign the NDA covering what I can and can’t say about the family on the podcast. Then we finalise our payment and we’re done.’
‘Are we meeting Rosing at the house tomorrow?’
‘He’ll be there doing some yard work, so I said we’d swing by on our way back to town.’
I nod. ‘How are you feeling?’
He shrugs. ‘Bit bruised.’
‘I mean… Do you want to talk about what happened to you at the house?’
His jaw tenses. ‘Not right now. Do you want to talk about what happened to you ?’
‘Me?’
‘All the glowing.’
I shrug, not meeting his eyes. ‘I barely remember what happened, it was so chaotic.’ I look up at his narrowed eyes.
‘The spirit’s gone, and we’re both okay, so let’s just rack it up to a job well done.
’ He grunts and I tug on his shirt, rolling up the corner, checking the bloodied wound dressing.
‘How about you let me take you to the hospital and finally get some actual stitches into you? And by “how about”, I mean, I’m taking you to the hospital. ’
He laughs. ‘I get all tingly when you’re bossy with me, Holly.’
I roll my eyes, grab his arm and march him towards my car, happy to have something else to think about – something other than the creeping feeling that I’m missing something, and that something here is still very, very wrong.