Aftersight (33 page)

"But I want Becky here, too," Emily whined.

"I'll be back before you go to sleep," I assured her. "Nothing to worry about."

Sara and I sat on the lounge sofa in the dark. The only lights on downstairs were a lamp in the hallway and the under-mounted cabinet lights in the kitchen. A sliver of dim illumination and the faint tap of typing spilled out from under the door to Lord Humphreys' study.

After about ten minutes of sitting Sara announced. "What time is it? I'm bored."

"Eleven-thirty and I'm with ya. It is kind of boring just sitting here."

"I want to go upstairs and play cards with Emily."

I gazed over at the stairs. "Yeah, well, I think they've got everything covered upstairs for now. Are you sensing anything here?"

Sara shook her head sulkily. We waited in silence for another few minutes before Sara sat up and lifted her head off her chin. "Wait a minute," she whispered. "Do you see?"

"No. See what?"

"Wait a minute." Sara gazed at the faint diamond of light leaking onto the floor from the kitchen. Her eyes followed the invisible movement of something ambling slowly and lowly across the ground. "Did you really not see that?"

I shook my head.

"It was the grey bunny, the one I've seen several times at Waltham."

"This is surreal. It can't be a coincidence. If you're seeing the same bunny, then it's something connected with you, not something that's usually here in the house."

"Connected with me or connected with
you
?" Sara asked. "You know, I never see that bunny unless you're around. I saw it the first day at Waltham, not long after you arrived. I saw it during our first day of Animal Communications, remember? It only seems to come around when you're nearby. I even saw it at hospital when I went with you for those tests last month."

I was still digesting this when we heard the
thump
,
thump
,
thump
of Sir Alex's cane. He appeared from the hallway looking happy if not slightly amused. "Hello, my dears. I just came to check up on you. How are you doing? You've met Emily and are getting along all right?"

"Yeah," I answered. "She's a sweet girl."

"What do you think, will there be any paranormal activity here tonight? Do you sense anything?"

Sara and I looked at each other. "Not as such," said Sara.

"I haven't felt or heard anything unusual," I added. "It doesn't feel like anything is gonna happen."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Sir Alex said. "Spirits are very sensitive to energy. They don't seem to like change very much. You'll find that when a house is experiencing a noisy ghost after years of quiet, it's often due to a significant change, like a remodeling where walls are knocked down or rooms are added. It's not the change in the physical environment that they're reacting to, it's the change in energy.

"The same can be said when a stranger is introduced into a locale with active disturbances. It's like the spirits are spooked by the newcomer — forgive the pun — and are reluctant to show themselves.

"With all the people, cameras, and electrical equipment in here, I think whatever is possessing the house may remain dormant this evening. At any rate, we must do what we can."

"Uncle Alex, I'm sleepy." Sara yawned, her eyes opening and closing drowsily.

"There's a cot upstairs in the attic," he said. "Maybe you'll see fit to avail yourself of it. Just take care not to sleep too long."

"I just need a little nap," she replied. "Only a few minutes."

"There is another reason I came to pay you a visit," Sir Alex admitted. "I am of the understanding that Lord Humphreys is going to bed momentarily and I was wondering if you could take the first watch with Emily."

"Of course," I said. "I promised I'd come up to see her before bedtime anyway."

"Excellent," Sir Alex replied. "Would you please send Cali and Nicole down? I'd like to get their impressions of the energy down here."

Emily beamed when I walked into her bedroom. Nicole and Cali went downstairs while Sara went upstairs to lie down. The staircase groaned and complained with the weight of Lord Humphreys' massive frame. He poked his head in to say goodnight to Emily, his forehead creasing at the sight of me. "Don't stay up too late, Princess."

"Okay, Daddy."

"You'll be all right?"

"It's okay," she replied. "Becky's here to protect me."

I did what I could to muster a confident smile as the large man retreated from the room and headed down the hall to his bedroom. Emily, already in pajamas, began rearranging her stuffed animals so she could get into bed. "Did you want to sit down? There's a chair over there." Emily pointed to her desk.

I pulled out the chair and sat down as Emily climbed into bed and turned off the lamp on her night table. It was very dark. Only the faint glow funneling up the stairwell from the ground floor provided any light at all.

"Would you mind sitting a little closer?" Emily asked.

"Of course." I slid the chair over, glancing self-consciously at the cameras, knowing that their infrared lenses could see even in near-total darkness.

"Goodnight, Becky."

"Goodnight."

"You'll still be here in the morning?"

"I will. It might look like I rolled out of a trash bin, but I'll be here."

"I'm so glad to have met you."

"Same for me."

The temperature had dropped sharply in just the few minutes since Emily had turned out the lights. I felt the presence of not just one but many sets of eyes. It gave me the impression of being on center-stage with a spotlight on me and an audience studying me from the shadowy theater.

"Does it always get this cold in here?" I asked.

"Usually," Emily answered, "when
they're
nearby."

Emily lay quietly for a few minutes longer before asking, "Would you hold my hand?"

"Sure, honey. Of course." I scooted even closer to Emily's bed and offered her my hand. She took it and drew it under the warm covers.

"Becky, are you my friend?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart."

The temperature seemed to drop even further. How long could I stay in Emily's room before I needed to go upstairs to get my heavy sweater? I was about to stand up when I felt Emily shuddering beside me in silent sobs. She pressed my hand against her face and hot tears washed my hand.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Emily couldn't seem to answer through the crying. I held her and soothed her and finally she croaked, "I miss my friends. They don't like me anymore."

I knew exactly what she meant, having experienced the same isolation when my own paranormal experiences had started. No friends to confide in or talk to, just fear and a nagging sense that you might be going crazy. The ache in my heart at the thought of what Emily was going through was suddenly so powerful that it felt like my chest might explode.

"Emily, you're not alone in this," I whispered, hoping the microphones planted about the room wouldn't carry what I was saying upstairs. "We're here to help you.
I'm
here to help you."

"You promise?" she whispered back.

"I promise."

"Please don't leave me, Becky. Please help me."

"I'll help you, Emily."

"Please promise. Do you promise?"

"I promise."

I put my arms around her and gradually her convulsive sobs lessened. Her breathing settled down and, finally she seemed to drift off to sleep.

"Becky," a voice, very quiet and small and far away. "Becky, are you there?"

My heartbeat quickened. It sounded as if the voice was coming from my lap. And it sounded just a little like Nicole...

Of course. I'd taken off my headset.

I slipped it back on. "Hello?" Pressing the button now. "Hello?"

"Hi, June Bug. How are things? When you didn't answer right away, I started to fret."

"I'm okay. How are things there?"

"I'm tryin' to convince Cali to go down into the basement with me."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. We're headed down there now."

"Where's Sir Alex?"

"In the lounge with Thomas, sittin' on the sofa."

"He knows about this?"

"Yeah. Thought it was a good idea."

"Okay. Don't be away too long."

"Believe me, I don't plan on stayin' down there a minute I don't have to."

Cali

Lord Humphreys' Residence, East Barnet

12:32 a.m.

I swiveled my flashlight back into the maze of piled boxes and furniture in the unpaved part of the cellar. The basement seemed darker than it had on my first visit here this morning. Then the fluorescent lights in the finished part of the basement had been on; now the only light was the single strip glowing over the washer and dryer like a nightlight. Thomas's team had only set up one camera down here. It was clipped to a shelf and directed into the dark stacks of boxes.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Just sit and wait," Nicole said.

We took seats in folding chairs facing the basement's dark side. I closed my eyes and listened, taking off my headset to hear better. I kept thinking about my brother Chris's appearance that morning in our hotel room. It had been over a year since his death and with all the times I might have seen him during my astral projections, why had he waited until now to show up?

I thought about Sir Alex's theory, that Chris was looking out after me somehow. If that was true, had he always been watching over me or was it just today? Had he been trying to deliver a message by revealing himself or was it just a coincidence that I'd caught a glimpse of him on the day of our all-night vigil?

It also occurred to me that whatever I saw in our hotel that morning might not be Chris at all. Like Nicole's experience when she thought her mother was playing the piano in the parlor next to our rooms at Waltham, what if the dark entity that had been haunting us had made himself
look
like Chris?

I was still trying to sort all this out when I heard a
thump
at the far end of the darkened basement. It sounded exactly as if something had fallen over, like a box or a stool. I looked at Nicole and cringed.

"What was that?" Nicole asked.

I shook my head.

"Did you hear that?"

I nodded.

"Do you want to go check it out?"

I shook my head.

"I'm just gonna poke my flashlight down there, to see what I can see."

"Okay," I said, "then I'm coming with you."

Nicole snapped on the flashlight and carefully approached the wall of boxes, edging down toward the end where we thought we might have heard the unseen item topple over. The beam threw distorted shadows along the walls and ceiling, offering a deceptive sense of movement where there was none. I twisted my head this way and that to try to get a better view, imagining — fearing — that a face might suddenly pop out from behind one of the stacks, its features contorted in rage.

"Hey, what's goin' on down here?" cried a male voice from behind us, just a little bit louder than necessary.

We started with a gasp. The flashlight fumbled out of Nicole's hands and onto the floor.

"Tyson!" Nicole said angrily. "You purposely snuck up on us."

"Tyson, you dork." I picked up the flashlight and pointed it into his face, "I ought to kick your butt."

"I bet you could do it, too," he replied. "What's goin' on?"

"We thought we heard somethin'," Nicole said, "on the far side of the basement."

As if to prove us right, there was another noise from that direction, like the whisper of falling papers.

Tyson's face grew serious. He took the flashlight from Nicole. "Come on," he whispered, "let's take a look."

Becky

Lord Humphreys' Residence, East Barnet

12:54 a.m.

I yawned and stretched. I'd discovered an afghan at the foot of Emily's bed and had wrapped it around my shoulders as a barrier against the cold. It was nearing one in the morning and I was thinking of my cozy bed back at Waltham. If I hoped to stay awake all night, I was going to need some of the coffee that Archie brewed in his attic hideaway. I hoped it was hot.

I was about to go upstairs when I heard a faint growl. I thought at first that someone had cleared their throat, but then it repeated. It had to be a dog. And, as deep as the growl was, a
big
dog.

I perceived someone or something standing in the doorway. It wasn't a dog. It seemed to fill the entire doorframe. I didn't see it so much as hear it, like the subtle shift of weight from one foot to the other, the faint rustle of clothes, material brushing material.

I froze, listening with all my being. My eyes were locked on the open doorway. Whatever I was looking at seemed to be looking back at me.

There was movement, the creak of floorboards, the shifting of weight on the rutted hardwood, then finally the unmistakable tap of footsteps moving through the dark.
Tap
,
tap
,
tap
, quietly, slowly, heading toward me.

I pushed back into my chair, grasping the seat with both hands. I tried to call out but the only sound that came out was a long, continued release of air. The footsteps had come to a stop only inches in front of me. I heard what sounded like the ripple of breath, what could have been someone swallowing, and then — whatever it was — kissed me.

I felt lips on mine, cold and rough and dry, like parched and crumbling leaves. Then something pushed into my mouth, wet and rancid and just as cold. It was oily and bitter, filling me with a sharp and biting taste like a stinky cheese.

I recoiled, pushing the chair over and pressing myself back against the wall. I spit out the terrible aftertaste, retching drily, until Emily woke up. "Becky, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not. Emily, that thing... those boys... those boys that have been bothering you. Have they... have they touched you in ways they're not supposed to? Are they molesting you?"