The Ghosts of Cragera Bay (8 page)

“I don’t know. While no one reported a similar experience, the phenomena could tie in to the estate’s history.”

“There was a fire here?”

“Not
here
in this house.” She gestured to the floor. “But at the Worthing house.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She frowned. “You haven’t seen the ruins on the far side of The Devil’s Eye?”

“Warlow said there was nothing there, just more forest.” Anger gathered inside him like a slow-building storm. The bastard had lied.

“The ruins of the original house are there. Not that there’s much left, just the foundation stones. There’s a second driveway, too. It’s where police believe the murderers were bringing in their victims without anyone at Stonecliff seeing.”

“What happened to the house?”

“Jonas Worthing owned the property before your great-great uncle purchased the land. He had built a large house farther in the woods, on the far side of The Devil’s Eye. As the story goes, his eldest daughter went mad and set fire to the house one night. The whole family and all their servants burned to death.”

A slow nausea rolled through him. Was this the woman he’d seen? Maybe Jonas Worthing’s wife, or one of the servants, or—God forbid—the man’s crazy daughter herself.

“I can’t believe Warlow didn’t tell me about all of this.” What else was the man keeping from him?

* * *

Apprehension wrapped around Declan like a fist the moment he caught sight of The Devil’s Eye. The rain had stopped, the slate clouds giving way to dull gray. Long grass at the water’s edge bowed beneath the wet. The woods felt unnaturally quiet. No birds flitting between the trees, no small animals darting through the underbrush, just cold wind rattling the bare branches.

Invisible pressure bore into Declan’s back.. The feeling that something was watching them from the trees, waiting, settled over him.

Andy had been busy since he’d left them. He’d placed several small folding tables at various points around the bog. Meters he didn’t recognize set up on some, recording devices on others. Two video cameras on tripods had been positioned on either side of The Devil’s Eye.

“Take these,” Carly said, handing him a notepad like hers and a pen. “I want you to record everything you’re experiencing. Anything you see, smell, hear, even what you’re feeling. Nothing is insignificant. Do you have a watch?”

“Just my phone.” He patted his coat pocket.

“That should be good enough. Make note of the time if you experience something. Also, if you see or hear something, try not to react. I know that might be difficult, but it’s important that your experiences don’t influence ours.”

He nodded and sat in one of the folding lawn chairs Andy had set up, more than a little amazed by Carly’s methodical efficiency. How had he ever thought this woman was a flake?

She sat in the chair next to him, Andy opposite.

“So now what?”

A faint smile pulled at her mouth. “We wait.”

“I thought you would have done this sort of thing at night,” he said.

“Too hard to see. I never understand these ghost shows on television that insist on doing everything in the dark.”

“Atmosphere,” Andy muttered.

“I don’t know how they’re not tripping all over each other,” Carly said wryly. She turned to Declan. “Unless you’re investigating a subject that is dependent on light and dark, there really is no need for it to be dark. Here, for instance, most experiences took place in the day, so it would make sense to investigate during the day. Now, when we experiment with your shadow man, that will be something else, entirely.”

A jolt coursed through Declan and he stiffened in his seat. “It’s not
my
shadow man.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

Bad enough to hear his mother’s last words from her deathbed spoken by some disembodied voice. It had left him feeling targeted, as though whatever was happening at Stonecliff was not merely ghostly activity, but activity settled on him. The idea made his skin crawl. Maybe he should just get out of here. Hop in that battered Land Rover and keep driving until he hit the airport.

He glanced at Carly, and leaving didn’t hold quiet the same appeal. Probably in part because he kept noticing the way her jeans hugged the gentle curve of her ass and those long legs that went on forever. Or the way her hair still looked like warm caramel even in the low light.

She wasn’t his usual type. Too slender and willowy. He normally liked women a little curvier. But there was something about those soft smiles, that single-minded focus while she worked… He liked her.

“I forgot to bring crisps.” Andy sighed.

“I’ve a packet in my bag. Help yourself,” Carly told him without looking up from whatever she was writing.

Andy stood and walked over to a large black duffel bag sitting at the edge of the trees.

“Can I ask you something?” Declan said.

Carly looked up from her notes. “Go ahead.”

“Was it the murders that made you want to investigate here?”

“Not specifically,” she said carefully. “Stonecliff came to my attention this past winter. Reece—your sister Brynn’s fiancé—worked here for a short time in February and March. He and Brynn saw the shadow man, and Reece had contacted me hoping I could shed some light on what he was dealing with.”

A strange flicker lit in his chest that felt all too close to jealousy. “How do you know him? Is he into this ghost stuff, too?”

She chuckled. “I actually met Reece years ago when I was an undergrad and involved in a study on inherited psi phenomena. He and his uncle were part of the test group.”

Declan cocked a brow. “He’d inherited psi phenomena?”

“As best I can tell, absolutely. He’s a natural medium. He can communicate with the dead.”

Bullshit. And
this
was the guy his sister was with? Some con artist?

Not your sister. Brynn and Eleri are nothing to you. It doesn’t matter who they date, live with or marry.

“You look…annoyed.”

“I’m fine. Please continue telling me how Reece needs you to tell him what the shadow man is—even though he can apparently talk to ghosts.”

She shot him a pointed glare. “Shadow people are not spirits in the traditional sense.”

He frowned. “So what are they?”

“No one knows for certain. There are only theories. Shadow people are well documented for inducing strong feelings of fear—though, reportedly they don’t seem to interact much except to watch the people they come into contact with. Also, there are reports from all over the world, describing the man you saw.”

He frowned. “So this same ghost haunts people all over the word?”

“It’s not a ghost. There are three prominent theories. The first is demonic, based on the fear they generate, the second, an inter-dimensional traveler, and third, a manifestation of evil.”

“Tell me you don’t believe we’re dealing with an inter-dimensional traveler,” he said, only half joking.

“Ha.” Andy flopped back into the chair with a bag of potato chips. “With Carly, it’s all about evil. Hasn’t she explained her theory to you yet?”

She paled, her gaze darting to Andy before returning to Declan.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“It’s really not that big a deal,” she said with a shrug. “I explained to you about the unusually high levels of GMFs at the location. So if we factor that in with the history of the estate—two separate murder sprees, series of deaths, strange phenomena, shadow people, which are said to be a manifestation of evil—could a location with such high magnetic energy absorb from the evil acts committed and in turn project that energy, drawing more to it?”

Declan’s mouth dropped, and for a moment he could only gape. “So to sum up, the evil done here has turned this place evil and will bring evil to it.”

“It’s just a theory,” she said hesitantly, perhaps sensing the anger building inside him. “Are you familiar with ley lines?”

He shook his head.

“They’re invisible lines that connect ancient sites, but some believe they have mystical qualities, giving off energy possibly from magnetic fields. While this has never been verified, these straight lines do connect ancient sites like standing stones, megaliths, as well as natural sites like groves, streams and bogs.”

“You think The Devil’s Eye is on a ley line?”

“I think there is a strong possibility. Ancient societies chose these locations for their rituals for a reason, and the fifteen men found in your bog were murdered in ritualistic killings. Both your sister and Kyle Peirs claimed that Paskin and the doctor believed killing people here would keep the village prosperous.”

“Given the state of the village,” Andy cut in, “kind of makes you wonder if they were right.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “Three murderers killing people for over twenty years is probably reason enough for people to stop visiting Cragera Bay, no mystical explanations needed.”

“The Isle of Anglesey was a druid stronghold before the Romans burned them out,” Carly went on. “There are still groups of neo-druids, especially here on the island, but none of them practicing human sacrifice, and with no direct link to druids of ancient times. Their teachings were mostly oral and not believed to have survived in their original form. I wondered if the people who killed the men had formed some warped neo-druid sect, but if that was the case, their knowledge of druid lore was very superficial.”

Part of him didn’t want to know, yet he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How can you know that?”

“The men were all incapacitated, garroted and their throats cut, the same method used on Lindow Man—one the most famous druid finds. His mummified remains were found in a bog about thirty years ago, showing evidence he suffered trauma to the head, he’d been strangled and his throat cut. This case gained a great deal of media attention, but the druids used all sorts of methods for sacrifice—fire, drowning, hanging—all dependent on the god they were sacrificing to. Though, the Paskins and the doctor must have been familiar with Gaelic celebrations. Each of the men disappeared within days of four major holidays.”

“That’s just awesome. What do you think the odds of me selling this dump will be if anyone hears that the property itself is projecting evil? As if the murders and a possible haunting weren’t deterrents enough.”

“I told you we would keep our findings to ourselves until you sold the house.”

He shook his head, a faint throb beating behind his eyes. He should never have agreed to get sucked into this, to let her onto the property. He should have gone with his instincts. “I’m sure everything will go off without a hitch, then.”

Carly nipped her bottom lip and stood from her lawn chair moving to the meters set up on the table and made notes.

Maybe he should back out of this deal with her now? Tell her and Andy to pack up and get out. It was too late. She was already here, and people knew. It’d be better to let her finish and send her on her way never to darken his door again.

He ignored the small pang of disappointment.

* * *

Carly followed the water’s edge, pretending to check equipment that didn’t need checking. But she needed a moment to gather her composure. Guilt knotted her insides, squeezing tight every time she met the accusation in Declan’s dark gaze.

She shouldn’t feel guilty. She hadn’t lied, per se, she just hadn’t given him all the details. Still, he’d been so honest when he’d answered her questions about his experiences. The memory of the naked vulnerability in his expression when he talked about his mother passing away was like a cheese shredder on her conscience. He trusted her, had been up front with her and she hadn’t repaid him in kind.

She’d make it up to him. She had no idea how, but she would.

Water rippled to her left, a faint swell that could have just been the wind. Carly turned to The Devil’s Eye. A ring wrinkled out from the middle of the bog toward the shore. Could it be a fish? It was a little late in the season for frogs.

Another soft splash, but no hint at the source.

She unclasped the video camera from the tripod and carefully stepped out onto the rickety dock. The sound was probably nothing, but just in case, she wanted a better vantage point. The rotting wood, slick from the earlier rain, creaked ominously under her weight as she edged closer to the end of the jetty.

“Carly, what are you doing?” Declan was on his feet, frowning.

“Just checking something out.”

“Be careful,” Declan said, taking a step. “That thing looks ready to give.”

“I’m all right.”

The water noises had stopped, surface smooth once more.

“It was nothing, I guess,” she said, lowering the camera to her side. She started to turn and something slammed into her back, so hard it thrust the air from her lungs and sent her flying off the end of the dock. She hit the water with a splash. Cold stung her skin like tiny, icy needles, the shock like a punch to her stomach. She kicked up to the surface, but something grabbed on to her ankles. Invisible hands grasped her coat, pulling her deeper into the murky depths.

Chapter Seven

Panic exploded in Carly’s brain. Her lungs stretched, screamed, desperate for air. She clawed uselessly at the water, and sank deeper into the cold. Not sank. Something was pulling her down.

She tried to kick free, but the weight holding her legs made her movements slow and useless. She fought against the invisible hands, tore at the water, desperate to breach the surface.

Her chest burned. Her vision grayed at the edges.

She was going to drown. She was going to die.

A strong hand thrust through the white froth, grasped her arm and jerked her up. Whatever held on to her released, and Carly kicked toward the surface, guided by the hand grasping her wrist.

Her head broke the surface and she dragged in a deep, gasping breath, feeding her starving lungs. The hand gripping her arm let her go and she nearly sank back under the black waves. Exhaustion and frigid cold left her limbs soft and weak. An arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her against a solid wall of chest.

“Are you okay?” Declan asked, his mouth brushing her ear.