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“It appeared right after you helped that man cross over,” Ryker pointed out. “Whatever’s here doesn’t want anyone else to leave.”
ChapterTwelve
Brea
I’d never been so thrown off by an investigation before. This castle was far more than just an idyllic town and retreat.
In fact, it was full of activity.
The problem?
Not all of the activity was good, and not all was bad.
Whatever was trying to scare us away or hurt us was something dark and sinister. It made the air thick with its power and drained the life from this place.
Then there were the resident ghosts, like Remington. They simply weren’t wanting to cross over and were causing no harm.
I’d never had to face the moral dilemma of letting ghosts stay and not forcing them to the other side. The idea of making someone like Remington cross over against his will felt wrong.
“What’s that face about?” Ethan asked as he passed me a cookie. We’d been curled up on the couches in the library with the fire roaring. The snowstorm had let up already, and the sun was shining outside. It was still freezing so I had no plans to venture out yet.
Despite the frigid temperatures, the sun was melting the snow off the pavement already. Hopefully, we’d be able to do our normal coffee and snack run soon.
“I’m conflicted with this place,” I admitted. “Not all of the ghosts seem to want to leave and they’re just existing here alongside each other. Or they were. They have stories to tell but the only darkness I’m getting is the one we encountered downstairs.”
“Until that thing appeared, we were,” Remington scoffed. I jumped at the sudden intrusion and accidentally sent my book flying.
“I take it Remi is here?” Ethan asked, glancing around and biting back a laugh.
“Remington,” the ghost corrected in a snotty voice, enunciating it as if Ethan was too stupid to understand.
“Sorry,” Ethan said, not even needing me to explain what Remington said. He likely felt the indignation loud and clear.
“What is that entity that trapped us in the basement?” I asked. “Is it Patrick Bellmore?”
“I have no idea. One day, we were all just going about our business, making sure the staff was treating our home well, then the next, it was here. Anytime it’s close it drains us, and we lose our energy.”
“It’s feeding off of the other ghosts,” I explained out loud. He must have texted the others while I was distracted. They started filing in moments later, and I repeated what Remington had said.
“How many ghosts are here?” Lincoln asked. “Ghosts like Remington who know they’re dead and are just living here?”
He put air quotes around living.
“There are several of us,” Remington hedged. “Not everyone is aware.”
He blinked out of existence as I relayed the message to the others. When he came back… he wasn’t alone.
“This is the Blackwell family,” Remington said proudly. He named each ghost in turn, explaining how they died like it was a badge of honor.
He walked over to an older woman with her silver hair pulled into a tight bun on her head. She wore a pantsuit and had severe features. The bright lipstick on her lips only added to the harsh angles of her face.
“This is Eleanor. She died when her heel broke, and she tumbled down the stairs,” he said. Eleanor’s features split into a wide grin, and a laugh filled the space.
“It was glorious. The most exciting entrance I’ve ever made. You should have seen the look on those ungrateful brats’ faces. My siblings were in shock.” She laughed heartily as she re-lived the memory.
“This is Theodore. He was the second eldest of my brother’s children,” Remington continued. “He died when his younger brother was playing a game of ‘cops and robbers.’ Of course, he didn’t know the gun was loaded.”
Theodore winced at the reminder and ran a hand absently over his chest where blood stained his white linen shirt.
