Page 6 of Chillingham Castle

Jack had better be ready; British ghosts were older and nastier than American ones!

Chapter Two.

Haunt

Evie met us back on the stairs, and we followed her under the arches.

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, looking at the equipment. “This lot should be in a museum.”

My gaze widened as I took in the comprehensive collection of medieval torture devices. This was beyond anything I’d seen in a privately owned home. In one corner stood a huge double-sided wheel with spikes jutting from it, and a waxwork corpse stretched over it. Two cages hung from the ceiling, which held skeletons. Fake, of course.

My eyes wandered around. The chair with nails embedded in its seat, the rack, iron maiden, thumbscrews, iron face masks, stocks, nooses—all a torturer could ever wish for, right here.

And in a corner, the notorious barrel John Sage had dreamed up on his own. It was big enough to shove a full adult in, but even getting inside would ensure the agony started. Knives, hammers, nails, brands, and much more were scattered around. John Sage had gathered himself an extensive list for torturing someone to death.

“There’s the spirit of a boy,” Ghoul murmured. “By the barrel.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Watching us. He’s not residual, although I’m picking up on that too,” Ghoul said. Ghoul searched the room, and his eyes fell on the stocks. “They have a sobbing woman connected to them.”

His gaze swept the surroundings. “There’re loads of voices shouting over one another. The majority are anchored here through pain and grief. Most are attached to the equipment. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Leave,” I ordered, and Ghoul shook his head.

“It’s noisier in the courtyard. I’m good, Prez; I’ll let you know if I need a break.” Ghoul looked okay for now, so we finished looking around and followed Evie outside and up the stairs into the main building. Ghoul kept throwing worried looks over his shoulder as we headed upwards. We stepped into a small entrance hall, went up more stairs, and entered the Great Hall.

Jack released a hissing breath from behind me as he took it in. I’d visited plenty of places, but even I had to admit this was something to see.

“Loving this,” Jack murmured.

We followed Evie through the castle, making note of the rooms we needed to investigate first when we heard a laugh in the King James Drawing Room. We all stopped, and Evie, with no shame whatsoever, pushed into the middle of us. Immediately, Lucky slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in while Dive took her other side.

“That cackle is new,” Evie whispered.

I nodded and held up my spirit box. “My name is Haunt; we’ve come to speak to you.” I paused. “Who are you?”

“You just laughed, so you have our attention. Why hide your identity? What’s your name?” Jack called.

The Ovilus spoke. “Death.”

“I’ve heard of many named Death. Are you saying you’re the Angel of Death?” I asked.

“Death.”

“Looks like we’re stuck on that,” I murmured.

“Death, death, death, death, death,” the Ovilus squealed.

Suga fumbled it as he tried to turn it off. It continued repeating, and shivers ran down my spine. I recognised this as a show of strength. Suga shut it off, and we stared at each other.

“Death, death, death, death,” the Ovilus spat again. Suga looked down and held it up. It was switched off. Suga opened the back, ripped out the batteries, and another cackle filled the room.

“Okay, let’s move on; its sole aim right now is to scare. We should deny it the attention,” Jack said.

I nodded. Evie squeaked but continued the tour. The Ovilus made a weird-sounding noise, much like it was blowing a raspberry, before it died.

Evie led the way, but she was shaking.