9. Aspen #2
I expected him to laugh my question off, but he doesn’t. Instead, his expression grows serious.
“I don’t believe in ghosts in the traditional sense, but I do believe that buildings can absorb certain energies. They have a vibe, don’t they? An atmosphere?” He studies my face. “How many times have you walked into a place and just instantly gotten a feeling about it?”
I think about going into the church earlier that day.
Hadn’t I picked up on an atmosphere then?
It had been colder, too. But that could all be explained away by the fact the building was made from thick stone, and my father’s body had been in a casket at the front.
I’d have needed to be one coldhearted bitch not to have felt anything.
“Maybe we’re just projecting,” I suggest. “We believe we should feel something so we do.”
He gives a small shrug. “Perhaps, but people are energy, just like any other living thing. I don’t know how much you remember from your physics class, but energy can be neither created nor destroyed.
It can only be converted to something else.
So what happens to the energy inside a person when they die? It must go somewhere.”
“A lot of people would argue that it goes to heaven?” I say, trying not to let my voice wobble.
I’m still thinking about my dad and the funeral, and a tight lump constricts my throat. The backs of my eyes burn with unshed tears, but Blake seems not to notice.
He purses his lips and rakes his hand through his hair. “That’s one belief. But what happens when a person dies violently? What happens to the huge amount of energy created from that? Isn’t it possible that the place surrounding that death absorbs some of it?”
I don’t know why he’s talking about this, but it’s making my skin prickle. “Has someone died violently here?”
I eye the interior of the grand old building.
He gives a small laugh. “This place is over a hundred years old and has had a hell of a lot of people passing through its doors.”
He hasn’t answered my question, but I let it slide. If I’m going to be staying here, I’m not sure I want to know.
His expression suddenly falls. “Shit, Aspen. I can’t believe I said all that when you just said goodbye to your dad.”
“It’s fine. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs.
If you believe people get absorbed into the walls of wherever they died, then that’s your prerogative.
” I try to lighten my tone. “I guess if that is true, then whoever bought our old house off the bank is going to have some fun having Dad living in the bedroom with them.”
I’d been proud of myself for being able to keep dad at home, despite the amount of care he’d needed toward the end.
He hadn’t wanted to go into the hospital.
Instead, he’d died in his own bed, and the end had been fairly peaceful, considering the amount of pain he’d been in during the days, weeks, and months that had come before.
The bank had moved in and claimed the place practically the moment he’d taken his last breath, evicting me and leaving me homeless.
A strange flicker crosses Blake’s features.
I realize I haven’t given any thought as to how he might be feeling about his friend’s death.
All I’ve thought about is my own grief and problems. It’s like I’m swept along by it, jostled in the rapids.
It doesn’t give me any time or space for anyone else.
I force a smile. “I think I’d prefer to believe he’s in heaven though. I like the idea that he’s still watching over me.”
“I’m sure he is.”
The painful lump knots my throat, and I nod. “Thanks, Blake. For everything.”
“Anytime.”
A shoot him a small smile. “Well, ‘night then.”
“Goodnight, Pen. Sleep well.”
I take the stairs back up to the second floor and follow the long, empty corridor down to my room. Though I know there are other people in the hotel, I can’t help feeling completely alone. Well… not quite alone…
I shiver as I think of what Blake said about people most likely having died in this place.
I get the sudden urge to run, to glance over my shoulder in case someone—or something—is following me.
I want to fly into my bedroom and jump onto the bed, pulling my feet up quickly in case something is ready to grab my ankles as I get near.
It’s a stupid, irrational fear, but it’s crawling up my spine to rest its clawed hands on my shoulders.
Despite myself, I pick up my pace and hurry down the endless corridor until I reach my room.
I open the door and hurry inside. The lamp on the nightstand is lit. Did I leave it on? Perhaps it had been on already when Blake had shown me the room. It had been bright sunlight outside back then, so I might not have noticed, whereas the sun is setting now.
I go into the bathroom to fill up my glass with water then set it on the nightstand.
From somewhere deep in the hotel, pipes creak and groan.
Needing some connection to the outside world, I fish out my cell. There’s still no text from Tobias. I hesitate, biting at a dried piece of skin on my lip then tap out a quick message to him, telling him I’ve arrived at Windridge Hall, and I’m safe.
I add,
I don’t know why I’ve added that last part. Is it because I want him to be jealous? Is it because I still want him to think of me? I’m struggling to think we’ll just drift out of each other’s lives now.
I wait for a moment, wondering if he’ll message me back, but he doesn’t.
Then I remember what Blake said about the cell service being patchy out here and check for bars.
Only one, but then it disappears again. I’ll need to get the Wi-Fi code for the building, and hopefully that’ll make it easier for me to stay in touch with the rest of the world.
It isn’t until I’m in bed, in my usual position on my side, my hands curled into my body and tucked under my chin and my mind drifting, that I remember I never asked Blake for the key to my room.