Chapter Eighteen
Mike
We found a cute little café with outdoor seating and got croissants, each with delicious filling inside.
Dylan chose a raspberry one and I picked the pistachio one, simply because that had seemed like the most exciting one on the menu.
We both ordered iced coffee to go with it, mine with vanilla syrup and whipped cream and Dylan’s with chocolate syrup and no cream.
We sighed with contentment as we sipped the coffee beans of heaven. “What case should we start on?” I asked, gingerly biting into the beautiful croissant.
Dylan looked over the email as he sipped his coffee. “One of them is a rather big one. It’s in a castle. A real fucking castle, Mike. That will have to wait until tomorrow at least. There’s one here with a family where their children keep crying at night about a small woman yelling at them.”
I grimaced. “Poor kids. Let’s do that one. What’s the contact number? We better call and see if they’re available today.”
Dylan dialed the number, clearly as eager as I was to help those kids.
“Hello? Yes, hi, my name is Dylan and I work for The Medium Organization. Yes, we heard. We travelled here and only just arrived in Copenhagen a few hours ago, but we were wondering if you had time for a visit today?” Dylan paused, looking thoughtful.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find it. We have a ghost guide with us. ”
I suppressed a laugh while Dylan bit his bottom lip. It wasn’t as though the contact wasn’t aware of the fact we dealt with ghosts, might as well be honest about it.
“Perfect, we’ll see you in two hours’ time.” Dylan hung up and quickly typed something into his phone.
“Small kids?” Erik asked, seeming nervous and I finally got why.
“You’re afraid that you’ll scare the kids too, aren’t you?”
Erik shrugged. “I don’t really see myself as frightening, but I selfishly hope they won’t be home when we arrive.”
“If it makes you feel any better, kids often see ghosts, but it’s mostly at night after they’ve hit REM sleep.
Something about their rested brain makes them more susceptible to paranormal energies, which is why a ghost yelling can wake them up.
They likely don’t feel or see anything during the day. ”
“That actually does help,” Erik smiled. “I overheard their conversation and the family lives a good hour’s drive from here. I would choose the train if I were you. A taxi for that journey will be brutally expensive.”
I nodded and looked at Dylan who was busy eating all the crumbs on his plate. Adorable dork. “Erik tells me it’ll take an hour’s drive, and he recommends we use the train.”
“Okay,” Dylan agreed easily. “She seemed relieved to hear from us already. It had only been two weeks since she’d called and asked for help. I fear the other cases have waited for far longer.”
I grimaced at that. Hopefully people weren’t mad at us when we did show up. I could understand why they’d be upset over the long wait, but it wasn’t as if it was our fault mediums were such a rarity.
We ate in silence, both of us content to just people-watch as we filled our stomachs with another croissant. Not that we needed it. They were just too good not to try another flavor. We were boring and just swapped this time, both of us eager to try what the other had eaten.
Erik then guided us to the nearest train station and helped me figure out the machines that printed our tickets.
It truly was easy. Erik led the way to the correct platform and told me which train to take.
Dylan’s hand never left mine as we went from the station to the train, and out to our destination.
The family lived a ten-minute walk from the station, so it was easy to find.
When we reached the house, I already knew it wasn’t good.
The whole vibe was tense and had an angry feeling.
There was a certain layer of sadness. A woman came out of the front door as we approached and introduced herself.
Then she left us to it, walking out onto the street to wait until we were done.
The house was empty. She’d assured us of that.
It was just us and the ghost inside. Fun.
It also didn’t go unnoticed that she knew to leave the property ground.
It seemed she’d done her homework on ghosts and their reach.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” Dylan whispered once we were out of earshot of the owner.
I nodded. “It’s weird when the house is so warm and welcoming from the looks of it.”
“But not from the feel,” Dylan continued my thought out loud.
“She’s upstairs,” Erik chimed in. “I just saw her look out the window.”
“Great,” I sighed. That meant we had to go upstairs. After hearing how often people got pushed down stairs by ghosts, I was even more wary of them.
Dylan opened the door, holding my hand firmly in his while we entered.
It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, but this was literally our job.
I braved on, pushing forward so I was the first one on the steps.
It would be easier to kill Dylan if the ghost wanted blood on her hands, since he couldn’t see her.
I knew nothing of the ghost other than it was a woman.
It was a modern home, but with warm tones to make it inviting and less cold. I wish I had time to admire the paintings. They looked to be either originals or made by the owner herself. Unfortunately, I began to feel the energy shift the closer we got to the bedroom.
“This is it,” I gestured with my free hand to the closed door, then braced myself before opening it.
Inside was a teenage girl, scowling at us from the bed. “What?” I exclaimed in surprise. I’d expected a mean old lady, a scorned lover, or something. Not a freaking teenager.
“I won’t leave,” the ghost sneered and it was so surprisingly hostile that I froze where I stood.
“Why?” I asked, trying to understand the girl. Her clothes were bloodied, a sure sign she had been killed. I couldn’t say the exact year she’d passed, but from her general look I’d estimated it between fifty to eighty years ago. A huge gap, but I was still so new to all of this.
“They haven’t come back for me yet,” she replied, her face turned away from where we stood, being obvious in her dismissal.
“Who?” I asked next, knowing the more I knew, the better I would be able to help her.
“My family, of course,” she replied, her tone heavy with sarcasm. She truly was a teenager.
“Uh, do you want me to find out what happened to them?” I offered, already taking my phone out to google their names.
She turned back to us, her head tilted in question. “You can give me information?”
I nodded. “In seconds if I have their names.”
“Nikolai and Grethe Hansson,” the ghost said after a brief pause. “I am Rita Hansson.”
My search was remarkably fast, the two names were easy to find, mostly because of an article about Rita’s death.
I clicked on the English icon in the top corner and then skimmed the article, not wanting to read all the horrible details aloud.
Once I was done, I faced Rita, the teenage girl who’d been stabbed to death in her bed.
“I found an article from the night you died. I can give you all the details you want if that will help you. But your parents are dead as well. Have been for over thirty years, now.”
She blinked. “They’re dead?”
Nodding, I read aloud how her father had passed before her mother and where they were buried.
It was only easy to find because the father had passed on the same day their daughter had died.
The journalist had made sure to add that to the title, mentioning how father and daughter were finally reunited after thirty years apart.
“They’re likely waiting for you beyond the light,” Erik said, his words holding so much power because he himself was a ghost.
Rita glared at him. “Why haven’t you passed then?”
“I need to find my partner before I can pass on. Something these two men are helping me with.” Erik’s tone was calm and collected, something I envied at the moment.
I wanted to help reassure Rita, but at the same time I was so in my head about how she’d died.
She’d been fourteen. Her death had been a robbery gone wrong.
The Hansson family had just bought this house and many thought them wealthy.
They weren’t, and when the robbers had made enough noise to rouse Rita awake, they’d panicked, killing her in seconds to silence her.
“Your place is beyond the light, Rita,” Erik continued, proving once again how good he was at this.
“Besides,” I added. “You deserve to find peace after all these years.” Dylan’s hand squeezed around mine in comfort.
Rita looked even younger as her eyes filled with longing and hope. “And you really think they’re waiting for me there? I thought they would return here for me. I keep calling for them, telling them I’m here.”
“When you die, you get stuck to the location you died. In your case, this property. Even if your family wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to come here as ghosts themselves,” I explained.
“But they never even returned when alive,” she sobbed, looking heartbroken. “They just left me here.”
Erik stepped closer to the crying girl, joining her on the bed. “They didn’t know you’d still be here, Rita. If they did, I know they would’ve returned and said their goodbyes, even if they couldn’t see or hear you.”
Her eyes were full of hope as she looked at Erik, “You think so?”
He nodded. “I’m certain. And now it’s time to see them again, don’t you think?”
Rita looked to the right, and the last thing we saw was her smile as I helped her through. We wouldn’t ever know if she saw her family or not, but I hoped she did.
Dylan shivered, a clear sign that even he had felt her passing.
“She’s gone,” I announced anyway. “I understand why the kids were afraid of her.”
“Why? Was she hostile?” Dylan questioned.
I shook my head. “She’d been stabbed to death and wore her bloodied nightgown.”
“Fuck,” Dylan muttered, his eyes wide.
“Yeah,” I sighed. This was just another work case for most mediums, but I knew I’d never forget her, even if we’d only shared half an hour together.
“Let’s tell the owner what happened," Dylan offered, still holding my hand. “Then we can rest up at the hotel and plan for the castle case tomorrow.”
I smiled and let him lead me downstairs. He knew I needed to process what had happened and the sooner we were alone the better.