Chapter 12 Borja
Borja
After following the directions to the address Katie gave us at the library, we arrive in front of a stately white colonial-style home.
Even though we’re in a perfectly normal suburban neighborhood, there’s something ominous about the house.
I look at Farnsworth to see if he’s feeling anything, but his expression is neutral, so I guess not.
“Let me do the talking,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him up the brick walkway leading to the door.
“Yeah, of course. Are you gonna tell them why we’re here?”
“Yes. Katie’s message said they’re aware of the problem, so that should get us in.”
“Gotcha.”
“Pay attention, Borja. This will be a common task of yours as a Chaser.”
“I will.”
We reach the door and Farnsworth rings the bell. A minute passes, and just as he goes to ring it again, the door opens to reveal a teenage boy with thick, curly hair and the biggest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah,” he says in greeting.
“Hello,” Farnsworth says. “Are your parents home?”
“They hate people selling stuff.” He starts to shut the door, but Farnsworth puts his hand out.
“We’re not selling anything. We heard there’s a problem here. We came to help.”
The kid narrows his eyes for a second before sucking in a breath. “You know?”
“Yes. It’s my job to know. May we come in?”
“Fuck yeah.” He turns away, yelling, “Ma! Come here!”
A frazzled looking woman hurries around the corner, her eyes set on her son. “What’s the matt—oh. Hello.”
“Hello. My name is Farnsworth, and this is my colleague, Borja.”
“Catherine. My son, Anthony. How can I help you?”
“We’re here to help you, actually. I received a message earlier that you have a problematic object in your possession.”
Catherine’s eyes widen. “A message? How?”
“It’s part of my abilities. So, it’s true?”
She nods, glancing over her shoulder while her son clings to the banister. “It’s true. I’ll show it to you.”
We follow her down the narrow hall to a room with floor-to-ceiling shelving. The shelves are empty, and all the books and objects that should be on them are on the floor. In the center of the room is a wooden desk that looks antique, and on it is a small blue box.
Catherine gestures to the box, but keeps an obvious distance.
“I found it in the attic,” she says. “It came with a note explaining that using it would allow access to the spirit world and we could talk to anyone who has crossed over.” She turns her gaze to me and Farnsworth.
“My husband died three months ago. We miss him terribly and thought… maybe…” She shrugs as her words trail off.
“Where are the instructions?” Farnsworth asks.
“Under the box.” Farnsworth walks towards it but Catherine stops him. “There’s more.”
“Go on.”
“Once we opened the box, we immediately knew something was wrong.”
Anthony, standing by a window, nods. “The room got wicked cold and the windows rattled. Then all the books fell off the shelves.”
“Since then,” Catherine continues, “it’s been almost nonstop activity. There are a few hours a day when it seems to go dormant, but it always comes back.”
“I see.” Farnsworth approaches the box. “What’s inside of it?”
“Just an antique pocket watch.”
“May I?”
Catherine nods. “Sure. Just be prepared. Opening the box sort of kicks things off.”
“Noted.” Farnsworth glances at me and gestures for me to join him.
I stand next to him, my nerves jangling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Farnsworth opens the box to reveal a tarnished gold watch sitting on blue velvet. Nothing happens as he picks the watch up and flips it over.
“What is that?” I ask, noting the engraving.
“It’s a monogram. JHW.”
“Shit. John Henry Wolcott. Did this belong to him?”
“The house belonged to the Wolcott family,” Catherine says. “For about a hundred years until they sold it.”
Farnsworth closes his hand around the watch, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. He yelps, dropping the watch on the desk, and within seconds the room grows cold enough for us to see our own breath.
Books begin to rise slowly from the floor, and Anthony runs to his mother’s side. “Duck!”
We do, just as books and small objects fly through the space, slamming into walls and windows. The walls shake and the furniture shifts like it’s all on wheels.
I turn and look at Catherine and her son as they cower near the door. The fear on Catherine’s face tugs at me. I want to fix it, make this go away, but I don’t know how.
Farnsworth flicks his wrist and a book appears in midair. After a few pages flip, I recognize it as the handbook I read on the first day. Yesterday? Time is already blurry.
“Dammit,” Farnsworth mutters. “I should have known.”
“What?”
He points to the page in the book but answers out loud before I can read it.
“The Horror is scattered in many objects. That’s how it managed to resurrect. Somewhere, someone has an object that triggered the splintered bits of souls to awaken.” He turns to Catherine. “How did you discover this item?”
“Uh, um, we heard a weird rattling noise for several days before we investigated. When we went up to the attic, it was just sitting there on the floor.”
“That makes sense. We’ll need to take this.”
“What?” Anthony looks panicked. “No. That’s how we’re gonna reach my dad.”
Farnsworth crinkles his brow, and I don’t know how I know, but I think what he’s planning to say isn’t going to help the situation, so I jump in, operating on pure instinct.
“The instructions lied to you, Anthony.” Everyone looks at me. “The item is haunted by a bad dude who used your grief to get entry into this world. It isn’t going to let itself be useful to you. It has its own mission.”
Anthony nods, blinking rapidly. “You’re sure?”
“Look around you. This is not a friendly spirit.”
“Borja is right,” Farnsworth says. “We’re tracking this particular spirit and what we’re learning is that it splintered itself into several objects so that part of it stayed earthbound. I believe if we find and collect all the objects, we’ll be able to eradicate it.”
“That sounds easy,” I mumble.
“Oh.” Catherine crawls over to the desk and grabs the box, flipping it over to show Farnsworth. “Maybe this inscription will make sense to you then.”
Leaning over Farnsworth’s shoulder, I read the scrawled words.
Hummingbird brooch
Samuel Brent Hotel
“Is that a lead, you think?” I ask.
Farnsworth nods slowly. “It might be.” He gazes at Catherine. “Thank you. We’ll take this object, but if you give me your husband’s name, I’ll see what I can do about contacting him.”
“Paolo Farina. We just want to know he’s okay now. He died of cancer, and we didn’t get a chance to tell him goodbye, you know? He went into a coma and never woke up.”
Farnsworth nods. “I know where to look. One moment.” He turns to me. “Stay here.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Farnsworth pops out of sight right before our eyes, leaving Catherine to gasp and Anthony to murmur, “Bruh.”
I smile awkwardly. “Uh, he can do that.”
“Where did he go?” Catherine asks.
“I’m guessing he went to the underworld. That’s where your husband would be.”
“The underworld? Like, hell? But he was a good man.”
“No, not hell. It’s not what you think it is down there. It’s closer to Greek mythology or even Dante’s Inferno than what you may understand from religious teachings.”
“You mean, it’s just a place where the dead go?”
“Basically, yeah. Souls get sorted based on different criteria. Your husband sounds like he’d be in the Natural Causes Room, which is pretty nice from what I hear.”
“Is your friend a ghost or something?” Anthony asks.
“He’s not a ghost. He has special abilities.”
Before more can be said, the air shimmers and Farnsworth appears again. He offers Catherine and Anthony a warm smile.
“I found him. He’s in the Garden.”
Catherine’s face lights up. “You saw him?”
“I spoke to him. He wanted to let you know a few things. Firstly, he’s very well and at peace There’s no more pain, sickness, or sadness.”
Catherine hugs her son.
“Secondly, he wants you both to know how much he loves you and misses you, but he wants you to go on living for him. Do all the things your heart desires. To Anthony, he said, ‘Bug, be there for your mom, but don’t forget to follow your dreams too. I want to hear those songs you’ve been writing.’”
“Oh my god, Mom. He called me Bug.” Anthony wipes at his eyes. “That’s his nickname for me.”
Farnsworth nods. “‘For my wife, I’m sorry I left before I could say goodbye. Thank you for the years of happiness and your dedication to me during my illness. Now it’s time for you to live your life again.
Keep working on the cookie business, I believe in you.
Also, if you haven’t found it yet, there’s a loose panel in the bedroom closet with a box stored inside.
I love you both and I’ll be here waiting when it’s your time. ’”
Farnsworth exhales slowly, rubbing his temples for a second.
“That’s all of it.”
Catherine, her eyes full of tears, nods and smiles. “Thank you so much.”
Anthony hops to his feet and takes off.
“It’s my pleasure,” Farnsworth says. “He was very happy to be able to reach out.”
“This is so amazing. Borja said the underworld isn’t like heaven and hell at all. Is that right?”
Farnsworth scrunches his nose and I realize my mistake.
Mortals are on a need-to-know basis and she didn’t need to know that.
He doesn’t answer her, instead waiting as she scoops the watch off the desk and hands it to Farnsworth.
He tucks it back into the box and puts the lid on. The activity immediately dies down.
“We’ll get out of your way,” Farnsworth says, collecting himself and smoothing his suit out. “Thank you for letting us in so we could help.”
“We’re happy you came. We were going to keep that awful thing and hopefully figure out how to use it, but we wouldn’t have been successful, would we?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Mom!” Anthony barrels into the room, holding a shoebox. “I found it in your closet. Look.”
Catherine lifts the lid to find several stacks of cash, a few pieces of paper that look like deeds or stock certificates, and several coins.
“Oh my god,” Catherine murmurs. “It’s money and investments. This is so helpful.”
Farnsworth puts one hand on Catherine’s shoulder and the other on Anthony’s. He mumbles something softly, then actually smiles. The smile looks damn good on him. “We’ll be going.”
He grips my arm and we let ourselves out. On the sidewalk, Farnsworth continues holding my arm, squeezing slightly.
“I fucked up. Sorry,” I say.
“It’s fine. I made them forget that bit, just be mindful going forward.”
“I will.”
“I found out a little more while I was down there. About the Horror.”
“Yes?”
“Apparently, unbeknownst to me during our original interaction, Mr. Wolcott sought the services of a black magic user and very intentionally left pieces of his soul in the Above, so he’d always be able to come back.
In order to banish this Horror, we have to find all the objects and get them back together. This is a category X.”
My jaw drops. “Why would they assign me the hardest kind straight out of the gate?”
“I told you it’s random.”
Something about his tone and neutral expression lead me to believe there’s more to it than that, but I don’t push.
“Yeah, okay. So, what now?”
“We go to the Samuel Brent Hotel and look for a hummingbird brooch.”