“Angela, are you okay?... When?... Okay, we’ll ride now, and we’re bringing some guests.” Haunt cut the call and turned to us.
“Angela just had a violent encounter, and this time shit hit the fan. Do you have wheels?” he asked.
“Yeah, and it’s loaded with the equipment we brought,” Jack said, getting up.
“You have the address?” Lucky threw it over his shoulder as we followed him out.
“Yes, we’ll meet you there,” Sunny said as we followed him out.
“Jack, what do we know about the Inn?” I asked as we climbed into the SUV.
“The building dates back to at least eleven-fifty-six; the cellars have been dated to that year. The building was rebuilt in fourteen-twenty after being burned by French raiders in thirteen-seventy-seven. That is the building standing there today. While the Tudors extended it, most of the original build remains, which makes it unique. The rumour is that Queen Elizabeth I stayed at the Inn,” Jack replied.
“Wow, okay, so this place has some deep history,” I mused.
“Yes. Then, in the seventeen-thirties and forties, it was used by the Hawkhurst gang, a notorious band of smugglers. They escaped Kent for Dorset; the Mermaid Inn served as their fallback spot. They allegedly built secret tunnels to run from it to the Olde Bell along a street parallel to Mermaid Street. Something that we only ever see in Scooby-Doo is a revolving cupboard at the end of the tunnel in the Olde Bell, which was an escape route if raided.”
“Wow, I need to check that out,” I muttered, excited at the thought.
“In seventeen-seventy, the building stopped functioning as an inn, and nobody seems sure what it was used for until eighteen-forty-seven, when it was purchased to become a private house by Charles Poile. In nineteen-forty-five it was a garrison for Canadian officers. And was most recently sold to Angela, the current owner,” Jack finished.
“Okay, so there’s a lot of history to wade through. What surprises me is that no smuggler ghosts have been recorded. We know that they were not the most peaceful of people and murderoften followed them, so why no hauntings around them? That’s a massive concern,” I said.
“Seems strange to me,” Sunny agreed. “With a history like that, I’d have expected more around them.”
“Interesting,” Michelle muttered as we pulled up near the Inn. We got out, and I gaped. Holy hell. America’s history doesn’t compare to this. I stared, stunned, at the old building in front of me; it was truly beautiful, and I wanted to move in and never leave.
“Damn,” Jack muttered.
“You see places like this on TV, but I’ve never seen one in real life,” Michelle said, awestruck.
“Do we need equipment?” Sunny called out to Haunt, who was walking towards us.
“I’ve got an EMF meter on me, and we’ve got an infrared and a voice recorder,” he said.
“I’ll grab the SLS,” Jack said as I nodded.
“Does your EMF double as a temperature gauge as well?” I asked.
“Yes. Angela’s waiting for us, not being rude, but she sounded scared. Let’s move,” Haunt ordered.
I felt like taking offence, but I heard genuine concern in his voice. I refrained from judging the Spirit Chasers MC. My initial worry was that they were fame-seekers, stirring spirits into activity regardless of the consequences.
They had a good reputation, but then so did my arch-nemesis, a real glory hound, whom I loathed. I’d done my own digging and learned that the Spirit Chasers, while they investigated haunted properties, they also went into people’s homes to help them. They followed our lead, but limited funding prevented large-scale investigations. Their feedback was glowing, and I understood why they’d taken the TV contract.It allowed them a wider audience and the chance to help more people.
Haunt opened the door of the inn, and we entered. The narrow hallways and the wooden panels struck me. It was obvious that the building was incredibly old. The sense of history was overwhelming, as was the obvious love for it. Angela put a lot of care into maintaining it.
“Haunt!” a woman called and dashed into his arms. Haunt hugged her tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut and clung to his cut. Girlfriend? I wondered.
“It’s okay, Angela, we’ve brought backup. Ain’t nobody better than these guys, and they flew in from America for you,” Reaver said and rubbed her back.
Angela blew out a deep breath and turned to face us. “Sorry, that was rude. The past few days have been frightening.
“I understand,” I said, waving a hand. We introduced ourselves, and Angela smiled.
“I recognise you. I’m a bit of a fangirl, to be honest,” she admitted, and we smiled at her.
“What happened? You were babbling down the phone a bit,” Haunt asked.
