17
The thing about being incredibly tired and trying to sleep in a drafty castle with the knowledge that ghosts could pop out at any time, it makes it impossible to sleep. It didn’t take long before the sheets and blankets had tangled around my legs from all the tossing and turning, I’d done.
Why did I come? It wasn’t only the thrill of the hunt, or the opportunity to catch a ghost on tape then throw it in the faces of those on TV and say, “That’s how it’s done!” That would be cool and all, but it wasn’t what drew me back to his doorstep the second time.
I wanted to take a chance. I saw an opportunity to feel something more than just the casual friendship with someone, and I took it.
Big mistake.
I breathed out heavily into my pillow. A shiver ran its course up my spine and I pulled the blanket to my neck. I was about to count sheep when I felt something—or someone nearby. With my breath held I turned around to check my room. Standing—or rather floating at the foot of my bed was the dark-haired ghost in the nightgown. She lifted her hand. I stiffened in anticipation to know what she might do next. Would she lift the bed, flip it over, and drop it on top of me? Will she use the sheets as a hangman’s noose to end my life?
Will I join her in her hauntings when she’s accomplished her grim deeds?
She waved her hand toward her as if gesturing for me to come to her.
I shook my head no.
She waved her hand again.
I shook my head again.
A change took place in her that I had not expected in a horrifying ghost. Her shoulders slumped and she dropped lower to the ground. Something in her eyes told me this visit wasn’t to terrify me out of my wits. She had a purpose.
I sat up and drew my knees into my chest. “All right. What do you want?”
She gestured for me to follow again then pointed toward the door.
“Uh ... I’m not stupid. You ghosts have made it clear you want me dead, so, no.”
She clasped her hands together in a pleading way. She looked as though she might cry.
“Do you want me to go? I’m leaving in the morning, so no worries. You’ll be rid of me.”
She shook her head vigorously.
“So, you don’t want me to leave? Then where do you want me to go?”
She moved to the door and waved for me to follow.
“Hold on. I need some socks.” I slipped into my fuzzy socks and made my way to follow. “You’re not going to try to kill me or anything, are you?”
She gave me a funny look as if I’d asked the dumbest question on earth and shook her head.
“All right. Lead on.” I paused outside Dan’s door, briefly considering inviting him along, but thought better of it. He’d made it clear he couldn’t handle me anymore.
I’m following a ghost through the maze of this castle. This is insane. I’m insane.
The only sound within the castle walls was the soft shuffle of my feet on stone and a breeze against the windowpanes. Hesitation bubbled inside me the lower we traveled from the main floor. My stomach clenched. Down narrow halls and twisty stairs we went. At the bottom of one long stairway, the hall came to a T. The ghost veered right. Up ahead the hall came to an end at a short wooden door.
I stopped. “Uh ... this is far enough.”
She pointed at the door and clasped her hands together once more to plead for me to continue.
“All right. I’ll peek in the door, but don’t even try to lock me in.”
She shook her hands and head to signify she wouldn’t. Through the door she glided after waiting for me to follow. The creak of the door could have woken the dead, which was exactly what I feared would happen. Inside the room was pitch black until the ghost waved her hand and a light turned on. The light bulb hung from the ceiling of the eight-by-eight stone room. A few wood crate boxes sat in one corner, one holding old empty wine bottles and the other old rags.
I stood my ground at the threshold, not daring to go any further. “Okay. Now what?”
She disappeared through the wall then reappeared seconds later. Her face contorted as if she was beginning to weep. Her ghostly thin figure slumped to the floor as if she’d fall apart. There she sat on her knees with her head nearly touching the stone floor. She covered her hands over her head and her shoulders shook.
The woman named Jessica hung close to the doorway. Overcome with sorrow, Mirabella continued to sob.
“Is there something on the other side of that wall?” Jessica asked and pointed.
“Yes,” Mirabella said then nodded.
“What is on the other side of that wall?”
Mirabella placed her hand over her chest and patted. More cries scratched its way out of the deepest part of her soul. She lowered her head to the ground.
“If only I would have remembered. If only I could have led someone here before, then I wouldn’t have had to live in such misery,” she said then pointed at the wall again and cried. “Please. Get me out of there.”
Jessica took the steps toward the wall very slowly. She pressed her hands against the stone and pushed. Of course, nothing happened. She searched the room and came up empty handed.
“Uh ... stay here. I’ll go look for something.” She left then returned a few minutes later holding a long piece of metal, perhaps from an old prison bar.
Mirabella’s cries stopped. She held still, hope flaring as she watched Jessica hit the bar against the wall. Jessica’s hands shook and the rod fell. She chuckled and wiped her hand down her night shirt.
“Ouch. I guess that won’t work.” She picked the rod back up along with a block of wood from a broken crate. “Your name is Mirabella, isn’t it?”
A smile crossed Mirabella’s lips briefly and she nodded.
“All right, Mirabella, hold on to your nightgown. I’m going to get you out of there, even if it takes me all night.”
Dan
I groaned and dragged my hands down my face. My beard tickled my palms. Did Jessica like my beard tickling her when we kissed? That thought fell into the cracks of my tired brain, remembering how our night had ended. Jessica would leave this morning and that will be that. I sat up and yawned. My eyes traced the dim morning light that made patterns across my bedroom floor.
I didn’t get nearly enough sleep, too worried about Jessica. Had she slept well, or had she been too hurt by my careless words to get any rest? I peeked through the open door into the room where she stayed. Her bed was empty and there was no sound of the shower running.
I was off the bed and calling into her room in an instant. No answer, and her things were still unpacked and lying about the floor. I headed downstairs and checked the kitchen. Empty. There was no sign of her in the sitting room as well. Worry etched in my heart.
“Jessica?”
The house was silent.
“Jessica!” I called more loudly. My heart increased in speed. Where could she have gone? Scenarios of her running off or getting hurt or lost in a big place like this repeated over in my mind. “Jessica!”
I scoured the upstairs, calling over and over. Why won’t she answer me? “Jessica!” It wasn’t until after I searched the entire upper levels and made my way down into the basement levels that I really started fearing for her life. I only had to search one more level—the lowest level where no one ever needed to go. At the top of those last stairs, a pale woman floated. Her figure was translucent and rippled at the slightest movement. Her blond curls clumped at the top of her head and framed her heart-shaped face. She lifted her arm and pointed to the right to where the stairs descended.
My heart plummeted. Had Jessica joined the dead?
I swallowed my fear and shock at seeing a ghost and proceeded down the stairs. “So, this is what everyone was talking about.” What would I find? Was she dead? How can I breathe again without her if she were gone? Halfway down I heard a soft whimper. My heart compressed at the sound of her cries. At the end of the hall Jessica knelt within a pile of rubble. Alive! She’s alive! Her pajamas were tarnished with the dirt of the mortar that lie in crumbles all around her. My attention drew to where she looked.
My jaw hung at the sight of the remains of a human. Dingy clothes that once might have been white hung from the skeleton. Beside it sat another ghost who acted as if she wished to console Jessica. Her hand ran down the length of Jessica’s hair and back in a gesture of comfort.
“Jessica?”
She lifted her head. Her tear-filled eyes blinked up at me. “I found her.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Do you see her?” She waved at the ghost. “Isn’t she beautiful? Do you think she’ll get to rest if she’s had a proper burial?”
I knelt down within the rubble and put my arm around her shoulders.
“This is all they needed. They needed someone to listen. Someone who cared,” Jessica said then sniffled.
“Come on, love.” I took her hand to help her up, but she jerked back and gasped. Her knuckles had been torn and blood had dried upon them. “Oh, Jessy.” I kissed her hand, careful not to hurt her wounds. I lifted her to her feet. Her knees buckled under her weight, so I lifted her into my arms and carried her up several flights of stairs and into the WC attached to her room. The entire way she softly cried into my neck.
“Can you wash?” I asked after setting her on her feet.
“Yeah. Is it okay if I crawl into bed after I wash?”
“Jessy, you don’t need to ask. Of course you can.” I kissed her forehead and touched her chin. “I can find something clean to wear, if you’d like.”
“Yeah. I think I’ll need it. Thanks.”
I left her there to start my hunt for the nightgown my grandmother used to own. With the drama of her gone missing over with, I felt my resolve begin to break down. I had thought I’d lost her. The thought tore my soul to shreds for the minutes that ticked by that I believed her gone. One thing I discovered through the last thirty minutes: I’d fall apart if I ever had to live without her.
Jessica
The first time I woke I found myself with a kinked neck sitting in a bathtub filled to the rim in cold water. At one point it had been soothingly warm. Not now. With my chin shivering and teeth chattering I rushed to dry off and seek the comforts of a bed.
On the bed, I discovered a nightgown that looked like it was from the forties. It took me a moment to figure out how to wear it properly, but once I did, I was in awe of its softness and beauty. It was worn more like a robe, fastened with cloth buttons on the right side at the waist, with a tie on the inside. The fake fur that brushed my feet felt heavy enough on the fabric that the overlapping slit going all the way up to the buttons wouldn’t open at every step. My arms were bare and the V-neck gave enough hint to the things inside without feeling they were on display.
I looked like a movie star in a black and white film, lounging around in a flowing nightgown.
“All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up.” I giggled. “Where did he get this?” I said to the empty room and twirled to watch the long gown move. “Cool. I should buy this from him.”
If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I might have savored feeling feminine a bit longer. Instead, I slipped into bed and within seconds of resting my head on the pillow, I was out like a light.
The second time I woke felt like I’d only begun to dream, and I didn’t wake on my own accord.
“Jessy ... are you awake?” The sound of Danny’s voice drifted into my dream then back out again. “Jessy?”
I turned my head from the pillow and opened one eye to see him bending over my bed. The daylight drifting in through the windows brightened his face enough to know he wasn’t a ghost.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but the police are here to speak with you.”
My head shot off the pillow, my eyes wide. “What? What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
He yawned before he could answer. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. They are here to investigate the body you found. They’ve been here for a few hours already, but they need to talk to you now.”
“Huh? Oh! Mirabella!” I stood a little too fast and tipped to one side. Danny caught me to hold me steady. A strong zing of attraction pulsed through me at the feel of his arms around me. All the memories of his soft kisses filled my brain. I wanted his soft lips again.
“You found a nightgown? It looks good on you—I mean, y—y—you look—ah—er—” he let go and stepped to the door and held it open long enough to say, “They’re waiting downstairs.”
Inside the bathroom I got my first good look at myself. If someone overlooked my bed head and swollen, red eyes they might consider me captivating in the nightgown. Perhaps I need to change before tromping around the castle in something so sensuous. In the cupboard of the bathroom, I found a few stray band aids I used to patch up the worst of my knuckles. I chose a simple T-shirt and jeans, pulled my hair into a ponytail and moseyed on down the stairs. In the entry hall stood two men in fluorescent green jackets with black objects attached to their belts and shoulders. They looked like crossing guards, not police men.
“Jessica, this is Constable Cantrell and Donati.” He waved from a man with a cleft chin to a man with black hair and deep-set eyes.
“Hi.” I waved then shifted my weight back and forth.
Constable Donati took the lead. “Hi, Miss...”
“Grayson,” I answered and shook their hands.
“Miss Grayson...” he wrote something on a notepad, “we need to get some answers from you involving the body you’ve discovered.” He turned to Danny and asked, “Is there somewhere to sit. It might take some time.”
“This way.” Danny glanced at me with worry etched in his eyes before directing us to the sitting room. Danny stood close by me and prepared to sit beside me when Constable Cantrell stopped him and asked him to wait outside the room. He hesitated and shot me a troubling look.
“I’ll be fine.” I sat and rubbed my sweaty hands down my jeans.
“You always say that.” He grumbled before leaving the room.
They must have asked the same questions over and over. With each one I gave the same answers. It became evident that they didn’t believe the truth about seeing ghosts and having dreams about how they had died. It did seem unreal, but I couldn’t deny it. My attention span drifted in and out of their interrogation with each noise I heard from within the castle. I became irritated with their repetitiveness and grumpy from lack of sleep. I shifted my weight so I could have a better view out the sitting room doors and wouldn’t have to look at their cynical faces.
“So, you have or haven’t caught anything on tape to prove your ghost theory?” Cantrell asked.
“Again, no, and it’s not a theory—hey!” I jumped to my feet at the sight of several people carrying a large bright box marked EVIDENCE written on the side. I hurried out into the entry hall and pointed at the box. “Is that Mirabella?”
“Miss Grayson!” one of the officers in the sitting room called after me.
“Er…” one of the officers carrying the box paused, shrugged his shoulders and continued on out the door.
I followed. “Wait! What’s going to happen to her?”
Danny’s hand slid around my shoulder then pulled me into his side. “It’s all right. They’ll take her to a lab for testing to see how long she’s been there and find out who she is. Then she can have a Christian burial.”
“She will?” I asked and let myself sink into his warmth. “It’s really important that she gets her burial.”
“I know.”
“Miss Grayson.” Donati waved toward the sitting room. “Your questioning is not over.”
“Really? Gee, it seems I’ve answered all your questions because you can’t seem to come up with any new ones.” I hadn’t meant to speak so sharply, but my lack of sleep was overriding all logic. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just tired.”
“I understand. If you have nothing new to add, then we—”
The foggy glum dissipated and I remembered Karina. “Wait!” I turned to Danny. “What about Karina?”
“Who?” Donati asked.
“There’s another ghost that showed me how she’d died. I think I know where her body is, too.”
“If that’s so, then you’ll need to sit...” he motioned into the room.
I sighed. Here we go again.