11. Hudson
Chapter 11
Hudson
M y eyelids feel like lead weights. I couldn’t sleep for shit last night, and now making the bed in the guest room, all I want to do is climb in and go to sleep. It’s not the first night it’s been hard to sleep, but last night was far worse. I swore someone was in my bedroom standing over me, waking me up every few hours.
The sounds of furniture scraping across the wood floors and the stairs creaking didn’t help. After getting out of bed three times to investigate and finding nothing, and even moving to the guest room, I gave up, but that didn’t make it any easier to relax.
By the time the doorbell rings and Jocelyn arrives, I’m finally starting to feel better.
“Hey,” she says, stepping inside and hugging me. “You look exhausted.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle, taking her duffel bag. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Therapist get to you?”
“Not sure.” I shrug. “There were a lot of weird noises in the house, or hell, maybe I was just imagining them. Apparently, the mind can do incredible things when under stress.”
Jocelyn tilts her head. “Not untrue, but I don’t really think that should be our first guess in this situation. I know the scientific world doesn’t want to give any credence to the supernatural, but I know for a fact that it’s legit.”
“You know for a fact that ghosts are real?”
“I mean, could I prove it in a court of law? No, but they couldn’t prove they don’t exist either. I’ve seen proof of it.” She gazes upstairs and rears back slightly. “Okay, yeah. There’s some stuff here.”
My chest tightens as I peer up the stairs, seeing nothing. “What do you mean there’s stuff here?”
“Energy. Remnants. Maybe even a spirit or two. Let’s dive in right now while there’s some active energy.”
“Wouldn’t you rather get settled in?”
“Nah.” She kicks off her shoes and hoists her tote bag over her shoulder. “I feel called to the kitchen.”
“Alright.” I gesture down the hallway and walk in that direction, but the closer we get, the colder the air feels. “Do you notice that shift in temperature?”
Jocelyn nods, her eyes shifting rapidly around the room. “Yep. Definitely something here.”
We enter the kitchen and she stops suddenly, then slowly turns her head to the left, near the island.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She shivers, gazing at the sink. “Right here. This spot.”
“Yeah. He shot himself there.” I nod, but move back slightly. “It’s not my imagination that it feels different from the rest of the room, is it?”
“Nope.” She sets her bag on the counter then digs inside, pulling out a deck of cards, a candle, and a few other items I’m not familiar with. She lights a black candle and sprays something in the air that has a pleasant, slightly sweet scent to it.
“Where did you learn this stuff?”
She grins, winking as she opens the card deck. “I’ve been a practicing witch for years. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew it wouldn’t be received well by the folks and I figured it wouldn’t be interesting to you.”
Eh, I’d argue, but she’s right actually.
I watch in silence as she unfolds a black velvet pouch, revealing a board with a bunch of letters and numbers on it.
“What’s that?”
“A spirit board. If a ghost wants to talk to us it can do so through this.”
“Uh-huh. That doesn’t sound scary or dangerous.”
“It can be both,” she says plainly. “It’s not child’s play but it’s not my first rodeo either. I’ve done quite a few communications.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling before opening them again. “Okay. Stand across from me.”
I move to the other side of the island. “Okay.”
“I’m gonna see if I can connect with anyone who might be here, but keep in mind, just because they might not want to talk, doesn’t mean they aren’t here.”
“Got it.”
“Alright, ghosties, who wants to say hi? We’re here and listening.”
It’s eerily silent, almost to the point where it feels like time is frozen. I start to speak, but before I can say anything, the little wood piece on the spirit board jerks dramatically to one side, causing both me and Jocelyn to gasp.
“Holy shit,” she says. “Okay, spirit,” Jocelyn says. “What’s your name?” She puts her fingers on the wooden tool, but it continues to make jerking movements across the board. “I don’t understand,” she says. “Can you slow down or try again?”
The jerking gets worse and Jocelyn seems irritated as she stares down at the board.
“Come put your fingers on the planchette next to mine,” she says.
I follow her instructions even as my hands shake with nerves.
“What is your name?” Jocelyn asks, slowly and clearly.
The tool under our fingers moves across the board, landing on the letter D. It quickly moves back and forth to several letters, too quickly for me to catch, but Jocelyn notices and gives me a fearful look.
“It says, ‘Danger,’” she says. “Danger from who? Or what?” she asks.
Our fingers fly across the board again, and as more words are spelled out, Jocelyn’s expression shifts from concern to downright terrified.
“Who is it?” she asks.
The tool moves to the letter C, but then the board is ripped out from under us and flung across the room, leaving us both stunned and speechless. I grab my sister’s hand, pulling her closer to me as everything on the counter rises from the surface, hovering for just a second or two before it flies across the room and smashes into the wall.
“Fuck,” Jocelyn whispers. “Fuck, fuck.”
“What just happened?”
“A spirit tried to tell us there’s danger here. I think it was attempting to tell us about the source of the trouble when the board was torn away from us.” She turns to face me. “To be clear, you aren’t making any of this up.”
“Shit. What do I do now?”
Before she can answer me, a cupboard door flies open. Three white ceramic plates rise from the shelf and hover in the air before flying like frisbees across the room. We watch in terrified horror as the same thing happens to the dishes on a lower shelf.
Jocelyn squeezes my hand. “Call the guy. Tell him he’s needed.”