The Haunting of Thornview Hall Read online

  Now, it permeated the place, as if its energy had bled into every fibre of the house. It surrounded him, this feeling of heaviness, causing his chest to tighten enough to constrict airflow. Struggling to get a full breath, he trailed Dez—their boots and coats left behind by the front door—making for the wide staircase leading to the second floor. Halfway up, he had to pause, hand out on the wall, his head reeling.

  Dez was at his side a second later. “What’s wrong?”

  He wouldn’t want the full answer. “Just a bit dizzy. It’ll pass.”

  Sully closed his eyes to draw himself inward. He’d screwed up, coming into this house without first putting up his walls. The nature of his gift meant he was excessively open to spirits—both good and evil. He’d left himself wide open to this dark presence, and he was paying the price.

  He forced the negativity out, then focused on raising his walls, the way he’d been taught by a Wiccan friend, Raiya Everton. It didn’t come quick, but it did come, the injection of calm, the ejection of negativity. Finally, nerves soothed, he drew in a deep breath.

  He opened his eyes to find Dez staring at him. “You okay?”

  Sully nodded. “Sorry, yeah.”

  “You’re sure it isn’t something, uh …?” Dez waved his hand in a nonsensical gesture understood by Sully.

  “A ghost, you mean?” He smiled. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Goddammit. A bad one?”

  “Uhh ….”

  Dez let out a huff and turned back to the stairs. He took only two more steps before stopping again.

  “ ‘I won’t stay here.’ ” His hushed imitation of Mrs. Carr was spot-on. “What the hell, man? You think she knows the place is haunted?”

  “That’s the impression I got, yeah.” Sully moved past Dez to lead the way up onto the second floor, the one on which most of the bedrooms were situated. The place was built for a significant number of people, as if its original owners had counted on hosting large parties requiring sleepovers. No doubt Lowell and Kindra had held their share of them too, the kind Sully and his family would never have been invited to.

  “This place creeps me out,” Dez said. He tended to chatter when anxious. Sully smiled. It was starting early. “Not just the ghosts either. I mean, think about all the times Lowell walked around in here, contemplating killing people. And we didn’t know any of it. Well, except you, I guess. Still don’t get why you didn’t tell me sooner.”

  “Dez?”

  “What?”

  “Calm down. It’s going to be fine.”

  “Do you feel anything?” Dez’s eyes flashed wide as he scanned the shadowed hall they were walking down, many of the doors closed and blocking the outside light. “Like right now? Here?”

  “Do you really want to talk about this?”

  “No,” Dez said. A moment later, he changed his tune. “Yes … I don’t know. Better to know the enemy, isn’t it?”

  “Problem is, I don’t even know the enemy, so how’s that going to help you?”

  A long hall—one he’d heard called “the gallery”— ran the entire length of the house’s main wing. Each end contained a smaller staircase leading up, concealed behind closed doors. As Sully understood it, the third floor had once been servants’ quarters and children’s bedrooms. He couldn’t imagine any kid being comfortable playing up there, let alone sleeping, not with the sensation crawling over him even from a floor below.

  When they’d almost reached the staircase to the far right, Dez brought them to a stop, hand on Sully’s arm.

  “Doesn’t it ever bother you?” he asked. “I mean, the fact you can see some ghosts but not all of them? I don’t know what’s worse for me, the thought of seeing them or the fact I can’t. Not knowing is bad too, right? You can’t deal with a threat you can’t see.”

  Dez’s statement had been on the money, though Sully wasn’t about to say it and risk scaring him worse. As a kid, the ghosts he saw had terrified him; all homicide victims, the victims of injustice, they’d come to him with horrific injuries and deformities, desperation and terror, sometimes rage. He hadn’t known then what to do with the sightings, let alone the emotion they carried. Because while he’d recoiled from the sight of them, it paled next to the fact he felt what they felt, adding fear upon fear.

  Time and experience had helped him cope, had desensitized him to the horrors. He’d begun to see people rather than death. Now it was the ones he couldn’t see, couldn’t communicate with, who made his skin crawl. Most simply carried desires and needs he couldn’t help with. But there were the others, the ones like the presence haunting this house. The ones built on anger and hate. They wanted nothing but destruction and power. And sightless as he was to them, there was little Sully could do to mitigate the threat they posed—or even see it coming.

  “I have a thought,” Dez said. “The ghost you don’t see—could it be Bill Garver maybe?” He leaned in close, as if afraid of being overheard. “The guy’s a Class-A dick. Beat his kids, killed his daughter. Maybe other awful stuff too. Could be he was scared to cross over because he figured on going to hell so he came back to his former home. Jacob didn’t say anything about his father being murdered, right? Which would explain why you wouldn’t be able to see him.”

  “You might be right about this ghost being Garver. What you said fits. But I can’t be certain. And if I can’t know for sure, we can’t get locked in on any theory.” He tried for a soothing smile. “You good to keep going?”

  Dez eyed the door leading to the staircase. Thinner than the bedroom doors, it was unmistakable.

  Sully recalled the claustrophobia he used to feel on the enclosed stairs and tried to force it out of his brain. He put his hand on the knob and turned it.

  An icy blast of air hit him as the door opened, making him gasp. Uncertain if this was physical or psychic, he peered up at Dez. He stared up into the dim space, eyes wide.

  “Did you feel that?” Dez asked.

  Physical then. Not that it meant anything. Ghosts had ways of interacting with non-psychics to make themselves known. Cold spots were one of them.

  Sully’s nerves were getting the better of him, and he did his best to tamp them down before asking the question currently on his mind.

  “The stairs to the attic. Middle of the hall up there, right?”

  Dez nodded, eyes still fixed on the shadows overhead.

  “What?” Sully asked.

  “Don’t you see it?” Dez’s voice was hushed, barely audible.

  “See what?”

  “Something’s moving in the shadows at the top of the stairs.”

  Sully followed Dez’s gaze. And froze.

  He saw it too. Movement. Subtle, but there. A flicker of something in the darkness, like someone standing above them.

  Watching.

  “Maybe we should try the other stairs,” Dez whispered. “Or better yet, go home.”

  Sully didn’t mind the second suggestion, but it wouldn’t get them the info they needed to do their job.

  “Follow me,” he said. “If it comes down to it, I’ve got ways of controlling them.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to do it anymore.”

  Sully shrugged and started up the stairs.

  The movement overhead continued. Once he was midway up the stairs, he recognized what it was.

  A sleeve.

  He stopped abruptly, causing Dez to run into his back.

  “Jeezus, Sully, what?”

  Sully stayed still, eyes fixed on the spot, studying it, waiting for anything else. His anxiety spoke over his rationality, pasting an image in his brain of a spectre swooping at them from above.

  Dez’s hand bunched up the back of Sully’s hooded sweatshirt. “Sull?”

  Sully didn’t move, focusing on the shadows metres away. It moved again, even more this time.

  Sully jumped. Dez gasped, his hand clenching more firmly as if preparing to yank Sully back down the stairs after him.

  The
image overhead became clear. No hand protruded from the end of the sleeve.

  Sully reached behind him to disentangle Dez’s fingers from his clothing. “It’s okay. Not a ghost. Relax.”

  “You sure?”

  The hand released, allowing Sully to take the rest of the stairs and prove his theory. A coatrack had been placed here, and a heavy terrycloth robe was hanging off one hook. A cold breeze blew from somewhere, and Sully guessed a window had been left open. Unlikely Mrs. Carr bothered much with this floor. She’d probably left a window open at one point to air it out and had forgotten to close it.

  Dez snickered as he eyed the robe. “We’re idiots.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Sully said.

  Making sure Dez was still behind him, he continued down the hall. Sure enough, one of the bedroom doors was propped open, and a window was raised. Wind blew through, ruffling the dust covers concealing the furniture. Sully entered the room and pulled the window closed.

  “Hey, Sully?” Dez asked. “The window’s all the way on the opposite side of the room here. How’d the breeze get all the way through the room, bend into the hallway and hit that robe?”

  Sully pressed past Dez and returned to the hall. He didn’t feel a breeze now, anyway.

  He returned his gaze to the coatrack.

  The robe’s arm was still moving.

  “Son of a bitch,” Sully muttered.

  Dez, reaching his side, inhaled sharply.

  The housecoat’s arm rose once sharply, dropped, and was still.

  Dez re-entered the room and hauled Sully in after him before shutting the door, sealing them inside. Sully opted not to remind Dez closed doors didn’t mean much to ghosts. He wasn’t eager to voice the words either.

  Leaving Dez to guard the door, Sully headed to the bed and sat on the edge. He felt it again, the dizzying sensation of something dark and evil prowling the house. He refocused on his defences, ensuring no breaks in his internal armour had been opened. Energies like this weren’t above possession. He’d been there before and had no desire to go there again.

  “If we run really fast, I’m estimating we can make it out of this house in about fifteen seconds,” Dez said.

  Sully glanced up at him. He couldn’t help it—the expression on Dez’s face made him grin. “You’re not factoring in our having to put our boots and coats back on.”

  “Hey, I’m happy running out barefoot.”

  Sully laughed. The sound and feel of it broke the spell, rebuilt the strength he’d lost. He stood back up and returned to the door. “We’ll be fine, okay? Let’s just get to the attic.”

  Dez didn’t move to let Sully past. “We don’t even know what we’re looking for. We could be stuck up there for hours.”

  “No, we won’t. Mrs. Carr will kick us out long before then.”

  Dez reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Sully to lead the way from the room. Sully studied the coatrack one last time before moving on. The robe remained still. With luck, the ghost had expended its energy while manipulating the thing. It would give them at least a few minutes of peace.

  With Dez all but pressed against his back, Sully headed farther down the hall full of closed doors to where he was pretty sure the stairs to the attic were situated. On the first and second floors, doorways to rooms were wide, allowing plenty of space for people to enter. The ones up here were thinner. Sully tried a few before he found the right one.

  If the stairs leading to the third floor were bad, these were the stuff of nightmares. The third-floor steps had been replaced at some point and were well-maintained. Based on appearances, the ones to the attic hadn’t been tended to since the building was first erected. The wood was worn and cracked, and the upper area was cast in darkness, keeping any dangers hidden.

  Sully reached around, groping for a light switch. His thoughts conjured up horror movie images of unseen fingers brushing his in the shadows. Last thing he needed right now.

  A light appeared next to him as Dez used his flashlight app to aid in the search. The light switch was there, farther ahead than expected. Sully took a step and flicked it on.

  The dim glow signalled the bulbs were probably no more than sixty watts.

  “Big help that was,” Dez complained.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” Sully said. “Step toward the side of the stairs. Looks like the wood is less worn there.”

  “Great.”

  Sully cast Dez a grin over his shoulder. “You want to stay down here while I check the attic?”

  “Piss off.”

  Sully chuckled and led the way up.

  The first thing he noticed was a sizeable pile of boxes stacked very near the stairs. The second was that the attic—upon a scan left to right—ran the length of the house. Small windows leaked light here and there. Not much, but enough to fill a few gaps left dark by the lightbulbs’ weakness.

  A lot of space remained up here but someone had opted to pile a bunch of their junk as near to the stairs as possible. Besides the boxes, a couple of old pieces of furniture, three exercise machines, several televisions from pre-flatscreen days, and a painter’s easel were all lumped together beginning at an arms’ reach from the entrance.

  Dez slipped next to Sully. “What does this mess tell you?”

  “Lowell and Kindra didn’t throw anything out?”

  Dez grimaced. “Tells me they didn’t want to come up into the attic any more than we do.”

  Sully tried for a chuckle but the sound got caught halfway. “You’re probably right. This stuff looks like it would have belonged to them. It’s too new for anyone who lived here before.” He cast his gaze over the rest of the attic, searching for anything which might have belonged to previous owners. Pockets of items were settled randomly, much of it pushed off to the sides. Larger pieces—discarded furniture, a pair of sewing machines and, most unsettlingly, a pair of covered seamstress’s dummies—stood in the centre of the attic. In a psychological sense, those larger objects formed both an obstacle course and a place of concealment. There, an enemy could lay in wait, ready to spring the moment they passed a cabinet or a wardrobe.

  “This sucks,” Dez said.

  Yes, it did.

  “Do you think Mrs. Carr knows where to find the stuff we need?” Sully asked.

  Dez frowned. “Do you think Mrs. Carr would give a damn about telling us where to find the stuff we need?”

  Sully shrugged. “You’re probably right.” He took a breath to ease his mounting anxiety and scanned the area one last time before settling on a stack of boxes against the front wall. “Let’s try over there. Looks like they’ve been here a while.”

  They picked their way past the mess, careful not to lean on anything they might upend, until they reached the boxes. Dustier than the other items closer to the attic entrance, they seemed to have been here significantly longer.

  Unfortunately, not long enough.

  “I think this stuff belongs to Lowell,” Dez said, an expression of disgust on his face as he pulled a ratty sweater from a box he’d opened. “I remember this thing. Grandma knitted it for him shortly before she died. He hated it but never said it to her face.”

  “Just to everyone else who would listen,” Sully concluded. “I remember. I guess the fact he kept it shows he’s capable of being sentimental about some people.”

  “Maybe he should have considered what she’d think before he went killing his own relatives.” Dez tossed the sweater into the box and slapped the cover back in place.

  Sully patted him on the arm and considered the space. Some distance away, nearer the end, an old dresser stood on its own.

  Sully pointed it out for Dez. “That thing looks pretty old. And it doesn’t strike me as Lowell and Kindra’s style.”

  Dez shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

  The huge dresser was covered in dust, a pair of large boxes stacked on top. The three wide drawers and two smaller ones near the top proved to be tightly shut, and Sully had to wrench on them to
drag them open.

  The bottom three drawers contained women’s clothing, the sort Sully had seen in photos from the nineteen-fifties and sixties—pastels and fabrics reminding him of Jackie Kennedy photos. While Dez hovered at his side, Sully dug through the clothing to see if anything was concealed beneath. Nothing came to his attention but more clothing.

  He next turned his attention to the top draws. One held handkerchiefs and a few rolled belts. The other was stuck solid. Sully yanked on it so hard he broke off a knob.

  “Damn it.”

  “Try the boxes on top,” Dez suggested.

  Sully did, finding more clothing—jackets and two coats in one and hats in the other.

  “I want into that drawer,” he said.

  Dez circled the dresser and studied the back before meeting Sully’s eye. “If we can find something to pry the backing off, we should be able to push the drawer out from this side.”

  Sully set about looking for anything they could use as a pry bar. Nothing came immediately to him, but he thought about Lowell’s things nearer the stairs. He might have something usable in all that junk.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  Dez caught his arm before he could leave. “Where are you going?”

  “Just over to Lowell and Kindra’s stuff. Don’t worry. I’m not ditching you up here. See if you can start working the back off.”

  “It’s stuck on with nails,” Dez said. “I’m not going to get very far without a screwdriver or something to wedge between.”

  Sully nodded and headed in the direction of the stairs, eyes scanning the floor for a tool box or anything else he could use to wedge into the back of the dresser.

  A creeping sensation stole over him, the feeling they were not alone. Invisible eyes were fixed on him, and the feeling was far from benevolent. Sully had spent time in places with ghosts he couldn’t see, and he was capable of dealing with spirits who were annoyed or even angry at his presence. Frustration and anger were human emotions, and Sully had learned to remind himself ghosts had once been human.

  This didn’t feel human.

  He focused on settling his nerves. If he was anxious or scared, he might inadvertently create a gap in his walls, enough for a presence to slide into. He reminded himself he was capable of controlling this thing, whatever it was. As reluctant as he was to use certain parts of his gift, he could if forced.