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Ready to check the other side of the house before heading upstairs, I straightened and turned, taking my first step, only to run nose-first into a rock-hard wall. Or a chest, rather. A very sculpted set of pecs that smelled of Hugo Boss. Immediately noticing the heat seeping into my arms from the callused hands now gripping me, I looked up into eyes the color of a winter morning—blue and crisp and breath-stealing.
Paxton Chase was a very handsome man. At least a decade my senior, he had that distinguished-gentleman thing going for him, tempered by the fact that he was a no-fuss kind of guy. He preferred flannels to suit coats. His pickup to Town Cars. And would likely laugh in your face if you offered him a glass of wine. But then there was the whole used-to-be-a-priest thing. Still, the man was yummy—not that I’d ever tell him that.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his deep drawl hitting me in the solar plexus.
I straightened and tugged away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and shoving my pen back in my bun. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. Which is strange, because this place echoes worse than that underground fuel depot in Scotland that holds the latest world record.”
Pax smiled. “You are a font of useless information. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
I shrugged. “Once or twice. And who says it’s useless?” I flashed him a smile. “Okay, so, what’s the four-one-one? How long have you been here?”
He looked around the place. “Not long. Maybe forty-five minutes or so. Just did a quick sweep to familiarize myself and get a feel. When did you get here?”
I checked my watch. “Less than ten minutes ago. I took in the outside for a bit—the front, anyway—and just came in. Didn’t make it any farther than the kitchen. Did Dev give you any direction for what exactly he wanted us to do or look for today?”
Pax ran a hand along the scruff on his jaw and shook his head. “Nah, not really. Just said he wanted a team in here to do a walk-through, make some notes on the map like you were doing, and scope out some good places for equipment. He did say that if we wanted to do a daytime EVP session, maybe do a Handycam tour, he’d like that. Might give the super twins some baseline readings for noise distortion, and R2, James, and Aaron some ideas for equipment needs and whatnot.”
He got an odd look, and I was almost afraid of what he was going to say next. He took a deep breath, and I couldn’t help but redistribute my weight and cross my arms. “Just spit it out. Clearly, you have something you need to say but don’t want to,” I said.
He sighed. “There’s an exposed, walled-off area towards the back of the house. Near the bit where the damage occurred thirty-odd years ago. The contractors and builders were just getting going back there, and that’s where Roch told us his guys have been having the most issues.”
Roch Lasear was the general contractor for the latest crew working on the mansion for the current owners. He was the one who’d reached out toHaunted New Orleansabout the investigation since, according to him, the stuff that had been happening lately had ramped up a lot, and he was running out of crewmembers willing to stay and finish the job.
“Yeah, and?” I prompted.
He rubbed his middle and ring fingers against his forehead. “You’re the smallest in the crew. Dev wants you to get up into the crawl space and take a look around.”
“Lark’s not much bigger than me.”
“Yeah, but Birdie doesn’t have your scientific knowledge. She doesn’t know to look for things that could be contributing to what’s going on in the house—the stuff that’s scaring the workers. She’d be tuned into the spiritual side of things. Right now, we need the basics. Scientific data. And you’re our best bet.”
I looked down at myNot a zombie, but I feel like oneT-shirt, mesh hoodie, and my favorite distressed black jeans and blew out a breath.
“I’ve got a jumpsuit for you in the other room. The fashion will be fine, princess.”
I knew he was teasing me, but my hackles still rose. “Like you care, Mr. Brawny.”
He plucked the corner of his plaid shirt. “Ouch.”
“Just giving you shit,Father. All right, let’s get this over with. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.” I set off to where I thought the area in question was, Pax following closely. As we got deeper into the house, I started to feel . . . off. I’d have to do some environmental readings before we left today to see if anything in the air could be causing that. Just as I was thinking about the equipment I’d need, Pax interrupted my thoughts.
“It’s not nice in here.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean? This part’s not as bad as I assume the area that got messed up all those years ago is. Kind of beautiful, actually. Not as nice as the front, of course, but still nice.”
“I meant energetically. Spiritually. It’s just . . . I dunno. Heavy. Oppressive. Feels . . . wrong. It’s weird.”
“Ahh. I was just thinking the same, and I don’t usually get feelings like that. I wonder if the fire damage and the subsequent aging got some nasty shit growing in the walls. I’ll get some samples and readings before we head out.”
Pax moved ahead of me to open a door, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from dropping to his very fine ass. Sue me. He may not care about fashion, but he could fill out a pair of jeans with the best of ‘em. Most of the guys on the cast and crew could. It was a smorgasbord of man candy delight. Probably not the most politically correct thing to think, but I couldn’t help myself. And it was true. And that was before you factored in the beauty of the women. Not to mention, we had something for everyone from sports junkies to intellectuals; angelic redheads to feisty brunettes; the sensitive, quiet ones, to outspoken nonbelievers; millennials to Gen-Xers. There was more than one reason the show did so well for the network. Yes, we were professionals, but we had become actors, too. And as the agent I’d never wanted but had been forced to get constantly told me, “Your look and your personality have now become your brand, Sky. Own it, and you’ll own the audience.”
As we rounded the corner into the area of the home where the most damage had occurred and the construction was in full effect, the hairs on my arms rose. Something was definitely going on here. “Did you by any chance take any electromagnetic field readings while you were in here earlier?” I asked.
“I did. The K2 had the EMF toggling between zero-point-one and zero-point-two to one-point-nine. And it wasn’t consistent. Not where you could definitively say there was some sort of environmental cause. We’ll need to look into it more.” He peered at me, his brow rising. “You felt it, too, then?”
“Yeah, strange. Kind of like static. But as always with high electromagnetic frequencies, that feeling of being watched, too.”
“Exactly. And as we know, high EMF can go one way or the other. Either it acts as a beacon and battery and leads to more legitimate paranormal experiences, or itisthe experience, causing the person to feel however they are.” He walked around the sawhorses and other construction equipment and debris lying around to the far corner and pointed up. The wall had a jagged gap between concrete and drywall and ceiling, beyond which lay a yawning void of darkness.
