Chapter 17 #2
It is not the most normal thing in my world by any means. No one has ever held my hand before. Okay, maybe Taylor once or twice and my mom when I was a kid, but not holding hands holding hands.
And his thumb. His thumb keeps doing this thing where it sweeps like a feather over my knuckles.
I wish I could ask him what it means, but that’s going to land me back in awkward-weirdo territory, so I simply stare at our hands like that might give me the answer.
“Right, Amity?” Arden’s voice manages to cut through the static in my brain. I have heard nothing anyone has said for the last two minutes.
“It’s probably picking up radio stations?” they ask, pointing at Matt’s Spirit Speaker 4.0.
“Then why does it only happen here?” Matt stops at the spot in the hallway we’re all standing in. “And why is it so cold?” He sticks out his arm to showcase the goose bumps on his skin.
“Isn’t that how radio frequencies work? It’s easier to pick them up in some spots than others?” My voice lacks its usual certainty when debunking because Theo is still holding my hand. “And it’s always cold up here. Hence the sweaters.” I gesture to Arden and me.
“She made this, you know,” Arden says. They pinch the shawl collar of the cardigan between their index finger and thumb.
Theo turns to me with big owl eyes. Before he can start raving about how awesome I am (my knees have still not recovered from the fact that he continues to hold my hand) or demand I make him a sweater, I announce, “Didn’t Matt think he heard ghosts?” and stomp my way into the bedroom.
Theo follows behind me because, that’s right, he is still holding my hand.
At this rate, I’m going to end up perishing and becoming the ghost they hunt. I’m not sure how much more of this my heart or my nervous system can take.
The moment Matt steps into the room, noise explodes from the spirit box. Again, there’s a mix of music and voices and static as it switches between the frequencies, but this time, Matt gets out his phone and starts typing frantically into a notes app.
Meanwhile, Theo has tucked his flashlight into his armpit so he can wrangle the EMF meter out of his pocket. He’s fumbling one-handed so he doesn’t have to let me go. And failing pretty terribly.
Forget phoenix wings burning in my chest. It’s a giant freaking dragon now.
Not sure what else to do, I pretend I need to tie my shoe (which, incidentally, has no laces because I took them out and sewed the tongue to the exterior of the sneaker).
It feels like a nice neutral way to break apart without it feeling like someone did it?
I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing here.
Theo’s meter is going as nuts as Matt’s spirit box, and for a few minutes, Arden and I watch the boys as they scurry around the room comparing notes and identifying spots with the most “activity.”
The two of us keep our flashlights homed on them, but there’s nothing to see except the absolutely enraptured expressions on their faces. They really believe they’ve uncovered something.
The boys switch off their devices, and Matt aims his phone at Theo so they can record a video.
“Tonight I’m inside the Harlow Homestead,” Theo says, addressing the camera.
“On the second floor. In what I believe was likely Mercy Harlow’s bedroom.
” He directs Matt to pan into the closet and zoom in on the portrait at the back.
“We discovered this hidden in a closet. It’s an exact likeness to existing drawings and portraits of Mercy Harlow.
Further proof this is a space she inhabited. ”
“You think the ghost haunting this house is Mercy Harlow?” Arden asks.
Theo nods. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Why?” I push.
“I’ll show you.” He moves into the closet and beckons the three of us to follow him.
It’s a tight squeeze for four, so Matt’s the only one who goes all the way in with Theo. Once they get near the portrait, they switch on their gadgets. The EMF meter buzzes loudly and all the lights flash in succession. Matt’s device is scrolling through stations.
Theo waves at the floor. The devil’s marble we set up a couple of weeks ago has rolled into a corner of the closet. “As you can see,” he yells over the noise, “the spiritual energy is active to the point of frantic here. Right near the likeness of Mercy. As if it’s tied to her.”
A chill climbs my spine as I stare at the red ball on the floor. Rationally, I know that a ton of workers have been up here. They’ve been using equipment. All of that could cause it to roll away.
But rationality isn’t coming to me quite as quickly as it usually does. Between my scare in the basement, the witchcraft theories Theo and I spent most of last night debating, and all the noise from the screaming machines, I can’t focus. Can’t quite make myself see the world the way I know it is.
Matt’s spirit box goes abruptly quiet, as does Theo’s EMF reader. For a beat, I can’t hear anything but our breaths.
Then a voice comes through the spirit box’s speaker. “Go.” The single syllable is crystal clear. My flashlight blinks out. When it snaps back on a second later, the light is dimmer, like the battery is dying, casting a misty, opaque glow over my feet.
We all open our mouths to talk at the same time, but before anyone can say a word, Matt’s spirit box and Theo’s EMF reader burst back to life.
I stumble out of the closet, Arden, Theo, and Matt behind me.
The two boys snap off their devices and then gape at each other, wide-eyed.
Arden is muttering swears under their breath.
“You all heard that, right?” Theo asks. He’s huffing like he just ran a mile.
“Absolutely, I did. It was so clear. They said ‘go.’ ” Matt’s eyes are bright with awe.
I fold my arms over my chest and force a scoff out of my mouth. Sure, I heard the word too, but now that it’s over, my rational side is kicking back in. That was just a hiccup. Some frequency the radio grabbed for the briefest second.
I’ve clearly been spending too much time with Theo, and he’s getting in my head. That’s all this is.
He’s so earnest he’s infecting my skepticism.
“We have no idea what we actually heard, or where the voice came from,” I insist.
Theo squints at me. “Why are you working so hard not to believe in anything?”
“Why do you need to believe so badly?” I shoot back. I’m not confessing on camera, in front of these people I am only starting to get to know, how much uncertainty scares me.
Theo peers at me, unblinking, his jaw moving like he’s weighing his words.
But before he can say anything, Matt starts absolutely losing his shit. Both he and Arden have stepped back into the closet.
Theo and I rush over to see Matt holding the spirit box up to the portrait of Mercy. All the garbled sounds from the various frequencies remain, but under it, there’s something steadier. A deep humming sound.
“What is that?” Arden asks.
Theo shakes his head dumbly, his jaw slack. “I don’t know.”
“Possibly interference from something?” I don’t sound like I mean it. For the first time, I don’t have an explanation I feel certain of. The noise is too distinct. Like it wants to be heard.
I don’t believe it is a spirit or ghost or whatever. But it’s something for sure.
Matt stops recording. “I caught a bunch of it on the video. I’ll put it through software at home to clean it up and see if we can hear anything more clearly.”
Theo and Matt are white as sheets. Like they hadn’t actually expected to find something today.
They wander out of the room side by side, almost dazed.
Arden glances at me. “Is that it? We ghost hunted?”
I shrug.
Both of us head for the door, but then Arden pauses, something catching their eyes.
“Huh,” they mumble. Bending over, they grab something from the floor and offer it to me. “Looks like you misplaced one of your dolls.”
Once I take it, they trail out of the room and down the stairs to catch up to the boys.
I shift my flashlight to illuminate my hand. RBG. The last time I saw her, Theo was stuffing her in my yarn basket before we set up that first devil’s marble.
So how the hell did she get up here?