Chapter One. #2
“Callie?” Sunny asked, his patience clearly coming to an end.
“Something is ringing a bell, but I... wait, there, it’s a faint flash before the figure appears.”
We all leaned over to see what she’d spotted and, fuck me, if she wasn’t correct. “How did we miss that?”
“Because it’s so quick, the naked eye couldn’t see it,” Jack said.
“I was looking at something else, actually.” Callie pressed play, and I pursed my lips. We overlooked two things. The mirror behind the stranger lifted from the wall before he appeared. Damnit.
“What does that mean?” Sunny asked.
“No idea. But it’s interesting. Michelle, any ideas?”
“I have to say, demon, but I’m not convinced. This thing wants attention and is doing everything possible to get it. But as soon as it has it, it reacts negatively. I’ve no idea,” she replied.
Callie
I was confused. This was unlike anything I’d experienced previously.
This could be an amped-up spirit new to the Inn or an existing one that got a power boost and became interactive.
Demon didn’t ring right to me, but I’d leave it on the list. Same with poltergeist. The flash meant something, and I’d have to hit the books.
I was making a list of possibilities when Haunt’s phone rang. He drew it from his pocket and answered.
“Angela, are you okay?... When?... Okay, we’ll ride now, and we’re bringing some guests.” Haunt cut the call and turned to us.
“Angela just had a violent encounter, and this time shit hit the fan. Do you have wheels?” he asked.
“Yeah, and it’s loaded with the equipment we brought,” Jack said, getting up.
“You have the address?” Lucky threw it over his shoulder as we followed him out.
“Yes, we’ll meet you there,” Sunny said as we followed him out.
“Jack, what do we know about the Inn?” I asked as we climbed into the SUV.
“The building dates back to at least eleven-fifty-six; the cellars have been dated to that year. The building was rebuilt in fourteen-twenty after being burned by French raiders in thirteen-seventy-seven. That is the building standing there today. While the Tudors extended it, most of the original build remains, which makes it unique. The rumour is that Queen Elizabeth I stayed at the Inn,” Jack replied.
“Wow, okay, so this place has some deep history,” I mused.
“Yes. Then, in the seventeen-thirties and forties, it was used by the Hawkhurst gang, a notorious band of smugglers. They escaped Kent for Dorset; the Mermaid Inn served as their fallback spot. They allegedly built secret tunnels to run from it to the Olde Bell along a street parallel to Mermaid Street. Something that we only ever see in Scooby-Doo is a revolving cupboard at the end of the tunnel in the Olde Bell, which was an escape route if raided.”
“Wow, I need to check that out,” I muttered, excited at the thought.
“In seventeen-seventy, the building stopped functioning as an inn, and nobody seems sure what it was used for until eighteen-forty-seven, when it was purchased to become a private house by Charles Poile. In nineteen-forty-five it was a garrison for Canadian officers. And was most recently sold to Angela, the current owner,” Jack finished.
“Okay, so there’s a lot of history to wade through. What surprises me is that no smuggler ghosts have been recorded. We know that they were not the most peaceful of people and murder often followed them, so why no hauntings around them? That’s a massive concern,” I said.
“Seems strange to me,” Sunny agreed. “With a history like that, I’d have expected more around them.”
“Interesting,” Michelle muttered as we pulled up near the Inn. We got out, and I gaped. Holy hell. America’s history doesn’t compare to this. I stared, stunned, at the old building in front of me; it was truly beautiful, and I wanted to move in and never leave.
“Damn,” Jack muttered.
“You see places like this on TV, but I’ve never seen one in real life,” Michelle said, awestruck.
“Do we need equipment?” Sunny called out to Haunt, who was walking towards us.
“I’ve got an EMF meter on me, and we’ve got an infrared and a voice recorder,” he said.
“I’ll grab the SLS,” Jack said as I nodded.
“Does your EMF double as a temperature gauge as well?” I asked.
“Yes. Angela’s waiting for us, not being rude, but she sounded scared. Let’s move,” Haunt ordered.
I felt like taking offence, but I heard genuine concern in his voice. I refrained from judging the Spirit Chasers MC. My initial worry was that they were fame-seekers, stirring spirits into activity regardless of the consequences.
They had a good reputation, but then so did my arch-nemesis, a real glory hound, whom I loathed.
I’d done my own digging and learned that the Spirit Chasers, while they investigated haunted properties, they also went into people’s homes to help them.
They followed our lead, but limited funding prevented large-scale investigations.
Their feedback was glowing, and I understood why they’d taken the TV contract.
It allowed them a wider audience and the chance to help more people.
Haunt opened the door of the inn, and we entered. The narrow hallways and the wooden panels struck me. It was obvious that the building was incredibly old. The sense of history was overwhelming, as was the obvious love for it. Angela put a lot of care into maintaining it.
“Haunt!” a woman called and dashed into his arms. Haunt hugged her tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut and clung to his cut. Girlfriend? I wondered.
“It’s okay, Angela, we’ve brought backup. Ain’t nobody better than these guys, and they flew in from America for you,” Reaver said and rubbed her back.
Angela blew out a deep breath and turned to face us. “Sorry, that was rude. The past few days have been frightening.
“I understand,” I said, waving a hand. We introduced ourselves, and Angela smiled.
“I recognise you. I’m a bit of a fangirl, to be honest,” she admitted, and we smiled at her.
“What happened? You were babbling down the phone a bit,” Haunt asked.
Angela shuddered. “Come with me,” she whispered, paling and began walking away. We followed behind, and she led us into a snug. As soon as we entered, we paused. On the whitewashed walls, in between some beams of wood, was a word. Jeremiah. A single name.
“That’s interesting,” Michelle said instantly.
“Is that the ghost’s name? Or does he want us to research Jeremiah?” Jack mused.
“Two good questions. However, that’s not paint,” I said as Jack stepped up with a sample bottle.
“It’s blood?” Angela cried and wrung her hands together.
“No. I think it’s ectoplasm.” I cocked my head.
“That’s usually milky-white or eerie-green,” Lucky said, turning to me. “Not red.”
“Nope, but that’s what I think it is. This is a scare tactic. The entity wanted you frightened and succeeded,” I stated.
“Have you captured this before?” Haunt asked.
“Yes. We’ve taken samples and sent them to labs. And you know what happens? They freaking disappear. Callie might as well have sent in pure air,” Sunny growled, unamused.
“Then why take a sample?” Angela demanded.
“If this disappears, then we can rule certain things out,” I explained.
“That makes sense,” Haunt agreed.
“And depending on how quickly it dissipates, that also helps us. It can tell us if this haunting is attached solely to the Inn or if it can travel,” I added.
“I don’t understand,” Angela replied.
“If it travels, then it came from somewhere else, and we can track it back and trap it where it came from. That helps us decide what choices and decisions to make when dealing with this,” Haunt explained, and I nodded.
A squeal came from my pocket, making me jump, just as a similar sound came from Haunt. I yanked out my EMF meter as he did the same.
“Five-degree temperature drop,” Haunt said,
I paused before replying. “Seven, eight, nine—we’ve got a rapid fall in temperature,” I replied. Haunt nodded.
Jack turned the SLS on and began searching slowly. Reaver activated the infrared sensors. The temperature kept falling rapidly, and our breath soon became visible in the air. A scratching sound made us turn towards the name on the wall. Underneath it, another word had formed.
“Leave,” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Why are we never welcome?” he demanded with humour.
“Because we scare the pants off whatever this is,” Haunt stated.
A hollow laugh echoed around the room, and we all jumped. Sunny grabbed me tightly and hauled me close as Jack and Lucky stood in front of Michelle, whose eyes rolled in exasperation. Haunt hauled Angela in.
“Fuck. Off. This is my home now,” a dark, evil-sounding voice drifted through the room.
“Don’t answer; it wants attention. Let’s leave and get a drink?” I suggested.
Angela was very pale, and I didn’t like her complexion. She was also violently shaking. Had the ghost formed an attachment to her and was feeding on her energy? There were too many questions and not enough answers. But I’d get them; I always did.