What's a Ghoul to Do? (17 page)

Steven nodded as he watched me circle rooms and point arrows to locations for the trigger objects and motion detectors. "Sounds good," he said agreeably.

Looking to make sure Gilley was also on board, I continued, "After I conduct my search in the master bedroom, I can move on to the other rooms to see if I can pick up anything there."

"And if none of those places proves good hunting ground, is there anywhere else you'd like to try?"

"I also got a tug outside, near the woods, but with this weather, maybe we should wait for it to clear up a bit before we check it out."

Steven nodded. "Good. Gilley, why don't you take the master bedroom and I'll take the library?"

"What?"
Gilley screeched. "Wait a second, we're supposed to do these vigils
alone?
I thought we were going to do them in groups!"

"That would take three times as long," I said. "And besides, at the first hint of anything weird just yell out, and the other two of us will come running."

"M.J., are you
crazy?
I could be dead by the time you get to me!"

I rolled my eyes and gave Gil a look. "You cannot be that scared," I said to him.

"I am, M.J.! I am!" he said, his voice sharp and panicked.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Gil!" I said, throwing up my hands.
"Fine.
Come with me then. We can hang out in the master bedroom together."

"I'd rather go to the library with Steven," Gilley said meekly.

I scowled. "I'll bet you would," I retorted. To Steven I said, "He can show you how to work the digital thermometer and spectrometer. If after a while nothing weird is happening, come on upstairs and hang with me in the master bedroom. Then we can all go up to the third-floor guest room."

"Sounds good," Steven said, and patted Gilley on the back. "Come on, Gilley. Let's bust some feathers."

"Bust some
tail,"
I heard Gilley say as the two moved out of the kitchen.

I made my way upstairs to the master bedroom as quietly as possible. I had my EMF reader out and pointed in front of me to see if there was already some activity going on. All readings were normal.

When I reached the second floor I heard something.
Thump, thump, thump,
sounded over my head, close to the ceiling, though not necessarily coming from the floor above. I cocked my head and listened, and after a few seconds it sounded again, but this time it was a little farther down the hall from where I was standing.

I looked back down the staircase, wondering if I should alert the fellas, but decided to investigate on my own. I crept up the stairs to the third floor and watched the needle on my meter jump as the noise it emitted became a high squeal. "Someone's afoot," I said.

When I reached the third floor I clicked the meter off and listened. For a long time I heard nothing, when suddenly there was a thunderous
bam!
right behind me. I jumped a foot and backed up against a wall, my heart pounding and my breathing shallow.

"M.J.?" I heard Gilley call from downstairs. "Was that you?"

"No," I yelled back. "I was getting some readings up here and came up to investigate. I have the distinct impression that someone doesn't want us snooping around."

I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked over the edge to see Steven jogging up. When he got to me he put a concerned hand on my shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I said, shrugging it off. "Sometimes you'll run into an energy that is particularly confrontational."

"My grandfather was a gentle man," he said, looking puzzled. "I can't imagine he'd want to hurt you."

"Good to know."

"I can't believe you left me down there!" Gilley panted as he reached the top of the stairs. "From now on, nobody takes off alooooone— Ahhhhh!"

Steven and I watched as Gilley seemed to be yanked by the shoulders from an invisible force. His eyes opened wide as his body arced, arms flailing and mouth open as he balanced precariously on the stair's edge for a nanosecond before flying backward down several stairs. The staircase shuddered as his back hit it. Like an awful movie playing in slow motion, we saw his lower body curl up over his head as he tumbled like a rag doll down the rest of the stairs.

"Gilley!"
I screamed as I shot after him, jumping down several stairs at a time to try in vain to stop his awful head-over-heels tumble. I could hear Steven right behind me.

We caught up to Gilley as he hit the bottom of the stairwell with another frightening thud, landing on the marble floor flat on his rump. "Unnnnh!" he cried as he rolled onto his side.

"Oh, my God!" I said as I bent down, my hands shaking as I placed them gently on his shoulders. "Gil! Where are you hurt?"

Gilley tried to take a breath, but the wind seemed to be knocked out of him. In a flash Steven was at his side. "It's going to be all right," he said in a low, calm voice. "M.J., let go of Gilley and let me take a look."

I moved aside just as Gilley finally took a shuddering breath, followed quickly with a wheezing plea: "Get me outta here!"

"In just a moment, Gilley. First I must make sure it is all right to move you." I waited anxiously while Steven felt all along Gilley's body, checking for any signs that something was broken. Gilley's breathing was returning to normal and so was his voice.

"It hurts!" he cried. "Oh, my bum, it hurts! Please just get me outta here!"

Finally Steven gave me a nod. "M.J., can you help me get him up to the bed?"

"Nooooooooo!"
Gilley squealed, and both Steven and I winced. "Don't take me up there! Please just get me out of this house!"

Steven grimaced, "Gilley, we need you to lie down and—"

"No!"
Gilley screamed. "Don't take me up there! M.J.,
please!"

"Let's get him to the front porch and we can talk about what to do with him next," I said. I was so racked with guilt about having forced Gilley along that I was willing to offer him any comfort I could.

Steven gave a reluctant nod, and we moved Gilley out the door. We set him down gently, and I hurried back inside to grab an armload of cushions off the sofas in the solarium and a throw that was draped over a chair. Running back outside, I made a small makeshift bed for Gilley, easing him onto the pillows.

Steven continued to feel along Gil's body and asked him questions about where the pain was. While the rain poured down I stood helplessly by, wringing my hands and praying that Gil would be okay.

Finally Steven seemed satisfied with his exam of Gilley. "Well," he said, standing up. "I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"The good news," Gilley said, looking up at us with such a pathetic puppy-dog look that I wanted to cry.

"Your injury is not terminal."

The comment was so unexpected that it caught me completely by surprise. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up, and began to giggle. I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off, but the more I tried to stifle the giggle the more I couldn't help it. Steven too let out a small chuckle, but he quickly stopped as Gilley shot us both a dirty look.

"And the bad news?" Gil asked, his eyes narrowing at me as my shoulders shook with silent laughter.

"I think your coccyx has a fracture."

Gilley gave him a blank look. "My
coccyx
has
a fracture?"

"Yes," Steven said gravely, then gave me a subtle wink and added, "You seem to have broken your fairy tail."

That did it; I began to howl with laughter. Steven chuckled right along with me, and the more we laughed the harder it was to stop.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourselves at my expense!" Gilley snapped. "Would you still be laughing if I'd broken my neck?"

That sobered me. I took another deep breath, wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes, and cleared my throat. "No, Gil. And I'm sorry. It was just… seeing you tumble down those stairs shook me up, and I suppose I'm just relieving some of that tension."

Gilley gave me half an eye roll. "It really hurts, M.J."

"I know," I said, squatting down next to him, truly ashamed of my behavior. "And I couldn't be more sorry for insisting that you come along into the house on this bust."

"I told you, I'm a van guy!"

"Agreed," I said, and rubbed his arm. Looking up at Steven I asked, "Do we need to call an ambulance or take him to the hospital?"

"We can. Gilley, do you have insurance?"

Gil and I shared an uncomfortable look with each other. "The premiums are over five hundred dollars a month," Gil said. "M.J. and I can't swing that kind of expenditure right now."

"How much would it cost?" I asked while I mentally added up the available credit on the plastic in my purse.

"That's why I asked if you had insurance. With this type of injury the hospital would take X-rays and probably prescribe bed rest. It would cost you about a… how do you say the slang for money over hundreds … big?"

"Grand," I moaned.

"Yes, a grand, and the result would be the same. I am thinking that I will write you a prescription for the pain and take you back to Helen's for bed rest."

"How long will I have to stay in bed?" Gil asked.

"Until the pain subsides enough that you can move around freely. You should be back to normal in four to six weeks."

"Four to six weeks?! But I have a hot date next Friday!"

"With whom?" I asked. Other than Bradley, whom Gilley had herded out of his life with the fire drill, he hadn't told me about any hot new prospects on his dance card.

"I don't know yet!" he snapped. "But if I can't walk around, how am I going to find one?"

I gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and focused on Steven. "We'll need to get him back to the B and B; then you and I can come back here."

"You cannot be serious!" Gilley said. "M.J., it's far too dangerous in there! Something pushed me down those stairs!"

I looked back at the house for a moment, swearing I had , glimpsed a dark shadow passing in front of the window. Then I looked up at Steven to see his reaction.

"I'm still in," he said firmly.

I tried to hide my relief. There were places that even I'd been nervous to walk into, and this house was quickly becoming one of them. "Good. If we hurry, we can make it back before it gets dark."

"It's a plan. Can you help me get him into your van?"

We got Gilley loaded into the back, where he could lie down on a stack of fluffy, cushions. As he muttered about murderous poltergeists we drove back to Helen's. After explaining that Gilley had tripped on the stairs (we didn't want to frighten her), we got him to his room, and for company I put Doc in with him while Steven went to the pharmacy and filled a prescription for painkillers.

"M.J.," Gilley said to me as I turned to leave the room.

"Yes, Gil?"

"I don't like this job one bit."

"I know," I said to him. "I'll be careful."

Steven came back a short while later and gave Gilley a pain pill. When we were sure Gil was okay, we made our way back to the van and drove in silence for a while until he asked, "Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"Yes," I said. "And I've heard about many cases where people have been tripped or pushed down steps before. It's more common than people think."

"So these ghosts can be quite dangerous?"

I nodded. "Absolutely. That's why it's a good thing to have someone like me around. When a poltergeist becomes angry, they can funnel that anger into affecting physical objects. I once got a call from a frantic mother whose son was pushed down their basement steps. It turned out the house was haunted by a little boy who was jealous of the woman's son. He was a doozy to cross over, but I eventually got him there."

"You know what is so odd?" Steven mused. "Maria's fall twenty-five years ago. My mother and I had just arrived from Argentina for the summer, and Maria spoke Spanish. She told me how she had been going up the stairs with the … clothes from washing?"

"Laundry."

"Yes, with laundry, and she felt something pull at her."

"Were you here when she fell?"

"No. We arrived a few days later. Her hip was fractured, and my grandfather set up a bed for her in the study. The old man fussed over her the whole summer. It was quite sweet, actually."

"That mixes things up a bit," I said.

"What do you mean with mix up?"

"It sounds like Maria was pushed by the same poltergeist that shoved Gilley. And I swear I felt a female energy on the stairs when I was going up them. In other words, it couldn't have been your grandfather the first time it happened; he was still alive when Maria was injured. It seems we have a second ghost in that house."

"I am thinking that it is best if we glue together, for safety."

"Your take on English slang is really quite charming, you know?"

"I am a charming guy," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'm surprised that it's not a bit better, though. Didn't you speak English with your grandfather?"

"No, we mostly spoke German. My grandfather served in World War Two—he was a German translator—so after I went to boarding school there, he and I could talk very well."

"Ah, that makes sense. So, pretty much you'd pick up what you could hear during the summer until you were what? Eighteen?"

"Sixteen. I graduated early."

We pulled into the driveway of the lodge. After parking the car we entered the front door, both a little more on guard than the last time we'd come into the entrance hall. "Where would you like to focus first?"

"Scene of the crime," I said, gesturing toward the stairs. "I think it's better not to focus on trigger objects and motion sensors when we have a ghost more than willing to make contact. Come on; let's head up and see what we see."

"Keep hold of the railing," Steven cautioned as we climbed the stairs.

I did, and we made our way up without incident. When we reached the third floor we moved away from the stairs and stood with our backs against the wall, waiting and watching. After a few moments Steven gave me an expectant look, and I said, "Give me a sec." I closed my eyes and focused my energy outward, searching for signs of our not so friendly spectral tenant.