Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story (69 page)

“She won’t be wearing blue,” Margot retorted.

“At least we’re coming armed,” Christian said. The sound of his voice left no doubt that he was thrilled with the prospect of the stoners opening up a can of whoop ass on this infamous ghoul.

“Do you honestly think those idiots have actual ghost catching equipment with them?” Margot scoffed. “Can you imagine? It’s probably just a bunch of junk they bought off some crazed physics students that saw one too many episodes of
MythBusters
. I bet they have no clue what they’re doing—or worse—the stuff will actually work and they’ll take out a whole block by pressing the wrong button and inadvertently discovering cold fusion. You know, Andrew, on second thought, you better park the van as far away from the hotel as possible. It’s my name on the rental agreement.”

“I was thinking of heading to Belden Cemetery, actually.”

Emily flashed her gaze up to the rear view mirror.

“Why there?” Zoey asked. Andrew paused and gripped the steering wheel, then proceeded to explain to the group about the map, pointedly leaving out the supernatural possession aspects of their evening.

“If Nick showed you the exact spot, why don’t we drive there now? We don’t need to see this Lady in Red after all.” The relief in Zoey’s voice was palpable.

“Thank you, Zoey.”

“You promised,” Emily warned.

He glanced at her in the rear view mirror. “I’ve promised a great many things in my sorry sod of a life, Miss Thomas.”

“Andrew.”

Simon turned up the radio, evidently sensing trouble brewing. Suddenly, the blinding force of Andrew’s voice blasted through the speakers.

“Holy hell,” Simon gasped, his fingers still frozen on the dial even after the song had ended.

“Well, there you go, folks,” announced the DJ. “That’s The Lost Boys. They’ve been touring nonstop this past year, although they seem to be taking a breather lately. But please, I’m begging you, stop with all the requests. I can only play it once an hour. It’s total Lost Boys mania over here. Thank God it’s for a real band for once. They deserve it.”

“You’re welcome,” murmured Andrew.

He glanced in the rear view mirror once more and met Emily’s gaze. Her eyes fell first. There it was, she thought, that look. And she knew what it meant: he wanted to go back on the road. No, he needed to go back on the road. He was getting restless being in one spot for so long. This was not his life.

As the road narrowed on ahead, tree branches began to brush against the sides of the van, a few scraping along as though to hold them back. Soon a bridge rose into view. It spanned a small harbor dotted with fishing boats pulling on their moorings, bobbing hard in the churning whitecaps. The fog made their progress slow, and still the trees scratched against the windows like hopeless creatures in the thick, dank mist. Emily wrapped Andrew’s coat around her shoulders. He had draped it around her after noticing her shivering when they left the cottage that morning, her own sweater not warm enough. It made her feel strangely protected as they traversed the bridge and took a switchback of road up to the surrounding bluffs that overlooked the village of Noyo.

But before long, the smell of salty air began to feel heavy, even in the car. She placed her hands on her temples and leaned forward, making Margot turn to her in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine, I’m fine.” But she was lying. Vivid snapshots had begun to detonate in her mind, and she was unable to stop them. Cliffs. Screaming. Falling. Falling. Hands clawing a dashboard. Shattered glass. Blood.

“No,” she muttered. “No. Stop!”

“Emily?” Margot shook her arm, yanking her back to the present. The visions had stopped, but Andrew’s eyes were fixed on her in the rear view mirror.

When they exited the van, the fog and rain were so thick they couldn’t see farther than ten feet in front of them. From out of the murkiness the hotel emerged into view, majestic and solitary. It seemed to breathe upon seeing them, to settle a bit, to sigh, as if its expectations were met at long last.

“Christian?” Zoey asked, her voice thin, and she reached out for his hand and held on fast. Endless gables hid under a host of redwoods, and twin trees stood like sentinels around the wraparound porch. Emily glanced up at Andrew’s face as they approached. He would not look at her, but only grimly faced the building like he wished he could burn it down.

“We’ve got you, Emily,” Christian told her with a slap on the shoulder, startling her and annoying Andrew. “And look! Reinforcements!”

Out of the mist they marched like warriors, four across, loaded down with large orange gym bags and wearing their black robes like some supernatural SWAT team. Emily’s spirits lifted with the sight, and for the first time that morning she felt like smiling.

“Bloody hell,” Andrew muttered, looking up to the sky and shaking his head.

“Greetings!” the stoners shouted, waving as they approached.

Buck held something in the air that looked like an oversized cell phone with antennas, shaking it as if he couldn’t get coverage. “The readings are phenomenal,” he informed them, never taking his eyes from the contraption. “I’ve never seen such a stew like this. Man, it’s amazing the roof is still on this place.”

“Lock and load then?” said Christian, beaming.

Egan scowled. “The movie industry has robbed us of our romance.”

“Don’t worry, we’re equipped. We’ve brought both organic and inorganic methods of dealing with any spectral interference,” Dwayne said, patting his bag lovingly.

Margot gazed at them in shock. “Are you guys serious?”

“Deadly,” they all said at once.

Andrew made some sort of grunt and hauled Emily to the front doors. “If even one thing goes wrong, I am dragging you out of here, do you understand? We can be back in San Francisco in three hours.”

Inside, the hotel resembled an old hunting lodge, heavy with the smell of burning wood and cedar and festooned with mounted animal heads and antlers. At the reception desk stood an old man whose body looked as though it was hinged together with a wire hanger. His eyes narrowed as he saw the odd parade of people pouring through the door.

“The Thomas party?”

“You can call it a party if you’d like,” Andrew replied tersely, then a little louder added, “yes, I believe we have a room reserved for…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Oh yes, a séance. Quite a large circle you seem to be having. And you’ve come prepared, I see.” The old man’s pained eyes fell to the stoners’ bags. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Hans MacClen, proprietor of the Noyo Inn.”

Evidently they had not been the first to journey to this establishment for such purposes, but the tone of the proprietor’s voice concerned Andrew, for it was as if he wished they would turn around and run but didn’t want to be rude. MacClen cocked his head like an old owl, blinking at Andrew, but just as quickly he returned his attention to the crowd. Without another word, he opened a binder on the counter, took out a series of forms, and handed one to each of them.

“Liability wavers. If any damage occurs to you, we are not responsible. If any damage occurs to the room, you are. Please sign on the dotted line.”

“Do you expect there to be damage?” asked Zoey.

“We have had a long and varied history with the ghosts of this establishment. You have decided to try to contact one of them, and this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The Lady in Red has been a resident of this hotel for as long as I have been proprietor here. I must warn you: she does not like to be provoked or antagonized. There have been incidents in the past when people have attempted such things, been cavalier and downright disrespectful—the results were not a sight I would like to witness again. I cannot warn you enough—ask as few questions as necessary and listen only. She is not a charitable being.”

He collected the forms. Andrew was the last to hand his back.

“This way, please. Once we reach the room, I’d like to have a few words with you before you enter, for your safety.”

Zoey and Emily shared a look. Even Margot, the stalwart cynic in the crowd, had gone slightly pale.

Floor-to-ceiling panels of dark gumwood lined the walls, accented by lantern-esque light fixtures every few yards. There seemed to be few guests in this section of the hotel. Emily tried to peer out the windows to see if she could spot other patrons in the parking lot below, but the windows were stained glass, and what little light the fog allowed in was further obscured by the deep blues and russets in the faceted panes.

After a few more twists and turns they traveled down a remote hallway until they reached an old-fashioned servant’s staircase. They began their ascent, climbing three stories of tread-worn stairs that narrowed with each passing flight. The chilly air around them smelled of oiled wood and age, and the floor creaked under their feet from the burden of so much weight.

Once they reached the top landing, Hans paused as if to catch his breath, then turned to them. An amber pool of light raked across his face from the lone lantern in the hallway. He seemed so much older than only a few minutes before, and older still as he cast his eyes upon the far end of the hall to a single door secured by a padlock. Without a word, he took a ring of keys from his pocket.

“You really lock her in?” whispered Christian uneasily.

The old man shook his head. “You cannot keep The Lady in Red contained anywhere. She goes where she desires. This is to keep unsuspecting patrons out. Liability, you know.”

Once they reached the door, he paused once more. “You have the room for the next few hours. I sincerely hope you do not require it for that long. If you need me, I will be down in my office.”

He opened the door. A gust of cold, stale air blew over the threshold. Emily blinked against it as her eyes fought to adjust to the adjacent darkness. The large room was sparsely furnished, only a dusty sideboard and a few mismatched pieces of worn furniture lined its circumference, as though moved in haste. In the middle of the floor sat an imposing circular wooden table surrounded by haphazardly placed chairs. A lone window was shrouded with a tattered curtain, the gray bleakness of the day bleeding around its frayed edges. Shivering, she buried her hands in the pockets of Andrew’s coat and was surprised to find Nick’s key and ring at the bottom. She pressed them hard into her hand until she could feel them leave a mark.

“I will leave you to your work,” the old man concluded, though he hesitated at the entrance to the room. His eyes settled on Emily, sending one last chill down her spine. “Please remember…there are things in this world we cannot understand, that science cannot explain away, and that the modern day cannot extinguish.” Before anyone could respond, he gave a nod and departed. The door sealed shut behind him.

A communal shiver seemed to pass through all of them, and they each looked to one another as how to proceed. Simon muttered, “So, how do we sit? Boy, girl? Meth addict, non-meth addict?”

But Dwayne and Egan were already unpacking their bags, lugging equipment out onto the floor. Anxious, Emily walked over to the window and glanced down at the grounds below.

“You can open the shade,” Dwayne told her.

“Won’t it interfere with the vapors or something?”

“Believe you me, we want to see this one coming. The really nasty ones like the dark.”

“Brilliant,” Andrew muttered, staring at both Dwayne and her.

Buck and Dinesh busied themselves assembling their paraphernalia, most of which resembled video cameras on tripods and Klieg lights. Dwayne began to sprinkle a gray powder on the floor.

“What is that?” asked Margot, turning up her nose at the strange odor the dust was emitting.

“Blessed powdered Rowan berries. Wards off evil spirits.”

“Isn’t that counterproductive?”

“She won’t want to stay long.”

Next he opened a box and proceeded to hand out leis made of leaves and red berries to everyone present. They smelled the same as the gray powder.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Better to be safe than sorry. Hopefully, they’ll be strong enough to keep her out of your body for a bit. You don’t want this lady messing around in your mind.”

Egan instructed them to take their seats when suddenly cries of
NO, NO, NO!
smashed through Emily’s mind. Like a hallway of doors slamming open, the unknown voices wailed at her to flee, to escape. She stood paralyzed on the spot; the closest real door seemed a million miles away and Andrew just as far, though he was merely across the room.

“Emily?” he asked, his brow creased in concern.

She felt as if strings were being cut inside of her and things were falling away, like weights from balloons, and soon she would float away too. She made a fist with her hand to prove to herself that she was alive and real.

“Let us all form a circle,” Egan intoned.

She watched Andrew move to the table, his eyes never leaving hers as they sat at the two remaining seats opposite each other. Looking behind him, she gasped. Andrew whirled around. A figure stood across the room—white as a corpse—but it was only her reflection in a mirror that lined the wall. She laid a hand on her chest to calm her heart.