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Over in the tower’s shadow there were large stone blocks that served as benches. I cocked my head towards them and nudged Benny’s arm. “Let’s sit down over there. We can break out the recorder and see if we get any response. Maybe we’ll invite somebody out that way. ”
Together we shuffled up the asphalt and onto the grass, settling on a chilly bench. We turned off the light, and Benny pressed a button.
“How does this work?” I asked. “I’ve never done this before. ”
“What is this?” Jamie wanted to know. “What’s that for?”
“EVP,” Benny replied. “Electronic Voice Phenomenon. We’re trying to get ghosts to come talk to us. ”
“Does that actually work?”
“Sometimes. ”
I couldn’t vouch for it one way or another. If I understood correctly, investigators usually used EVP to record ghost voices because they couldn’t hear them otherwise. Only upon playing back the tapes did the words become clear. As you might imagine, I’ve never had much use for that method of inquiry.
“What do we do?”
In the dim glow of the incomplete moon, I watched Benny’s face harden. He might not have been positive how this should happen, but he wasn’t about to let us know that.
“We invite them—anyone who wants to speak. ”
“How?” Jamie asked, saving me the trouble of doing so.
“We just, well…Eden, keep your eyes open. Speak up if you see anything. You’ll probably know first if we’re making any headway. ”
He brought his voice up from a hoarse whisper then, with barely enough volume and clarity to lift itself into the realm of a normal speaking voice. Although I knew he was still being carefully quiet, there on the stone-silent battlefield he might as well have been shouting. “Residents of this place, hear us and know that we listen. ”
“You made that up just now,” Jamie murmured, but I hit his arm and he shut up. I didn’t care if Benny made it up on the spot or if he read it off the back of a cereal box, so long as it worked.
“We invite you to join us,” he continued, his eyes swooping back and forth between the field beyond the tower and the bulky, shadowy monuments in the clearing up the hill. “We know that you wish to communicate with the living, and we offer you our audience. Eden, do you see anything?”
“Not yet. ”
“Okay. ” He brought the recorder up with one hand, holding it loosely between his fingers, thumb ready to press the record button at a moment’s notice. “If anyone out there has a message he’d like to give, we invite you to come forward. We invite you to speak. Is there anyone present who will offer us counsel?”
Off to the left,
by the monuments up the hill, I thought I saw something move. It was hard to say; the black almost-shapes appeared to wiggle and shift if you stared at them too long. But I wrote it off to a trick of the eyes and brain until a more deliberate motion assured me that I was seeing no illusion.
From a few feet off the ground, something swept itself up in an arc and dropped down, landing firm on the grass.
“Benny?” I whispered, pressing my shoulder against his. “What are those statues over there, the ones that go up the hill? I can see them, barely, but I can’t tell what they are. ”
“I don’t remember. ”
Jamie joined the huddle. “They’re statues of people, I think. And a big one of a horse. ”
The horse.
By sheer optical stubbornness I discerned a prancing equine shape, and beside it the figure who had moved—the figure who had dismounted a moment before.
“Keep talking, Benny. ”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe. Just keep talking. ”
“Come and sit with us. Come and speak with us. Tell us what you want. Maybe we can help you. ” He slid his thumb against the record button and it snapped into place.
