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Chapter Six
Layla sat in the Popsvillelibrary with Jake on Saturday afternoon. The others were doing their own research, and they’d split up, going in different directions in the library. She smiled as she watched Jake, the fireman who made her heart beat so quickly it scared her sometimes, sift through the dusty pages of an old leather-bound book. As he read, his brow furrowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.
“Listen to this,” he said, his voice low and serious. “This ghost we’re dealing with, his name was Charles Harrington. He was notorious for seducing women and then leaving them heartbroken or worse. It says here that his wife, out of jealousy and rage, murdered every single one of them. I mean, I’m sure there were some she never found out about, but he liked to choose women in his household, so one of the maids, or the nanny.”
Layla’s breath caught in her throat, and she exchanged a worried glance with Jake. She knew they needed to find a way to rid themselves of this malevolent spirit before more harm could be done. “But how do we stop him, Jake? How can we protect ourselves and others?”
Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know, Layla. But we’ve got to try.” He looked at her with determination in his eyes, making her heart swell with admiration for him.
“Maybe Fiona and Max can help us,” Layla suggested. “Fiona has that gift of talking to ghosts, and Bella might be able to use her powers over the moon to cast a spell or something.”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask,” Jake agreed, closing the book with a heavy thud. He reached across the table to take Layla’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure this out, Layla. I promise.”
As the wind continued to blow outside, Layla felt a brief flutter of hope. With Jake by her side, she believed they could face any challenge, even one as terrifying as the ghosts of Charles and his vengeful wife. They were a team, and together they would find a way to protect their friends and the entire town of Popsville.
“Thank you, Jake,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know we can do this. As long as we have each other, nothing can stand in our way.”
“Damn right,” he replied, pulling her into his strong arms. As they embraced, Layla felt his warmth chase away the coldness inside her, filling her with renewed strength and determination to face whatever lay ahead.
“Charles’s actions in life were abhorrent,” Jake muttered, glancing at the stack of ancient journals and newspaper clippings they had gathered to learn more about the ghost that haunted their town. “But we need to understand why he became this vengeful spirit.”
Layla nodded, her own thoughts heavy with the weight of their mission. She ran her fingers along the spine of one of the journals, feeling the coarse texture beneath her fingertips. “There must be something we’re missing,” she said quietly.
“Maybe we should look at his relationship with his wife,” Jake suggested, pausing in front of the window. The darkness beyond seemed to press against the glass as if waiting for them to uncover its secrets. “She’s the one who murdered all those women, after all.”
“True,” Layla agreed, pulling a worn journal from the pile. Its pages were yellowed with age and ink-stained from countless years of use. “This one belonged to his wife, Clarissa. Perhaps it can give us some insight into their twisted lives.”
They went to his house after a while, and as they sat side by side on the floor, Layla carefully opened the journal. Her heart raced as she began to read aloud, the words painting a chilling portrait of the couple’s dark past.
“May 15th, 1887,” she recited, her voice trembling slightly. “I fear what Charles has become. His once tender heart has been consumed by darkness, the love we shared a distant memory. He spends his days seducing innocent women, luring them into his twisted web of deceit.”
Jake’s jaw clenched as Layla continued to read, the cruel nature of what Charles had done becoming more and more apparent. It was difficult to imagine how such a man could ever have been loved by anyone, let alone his own wife.
“September 12th, 1887,” Layla said, turning the page with shaking hands. “I can no longer bear the weight of my husband’s sins. Each night I hear their cries, the souls of the women he has destroyed. In desperation, I have made a terrible decision —one that will either save us or damn us both.”
“Damn...” Jake breathed, his eyes locked on Layla’s as the revelations sank in. “Clarissa must have thought murdering those women would somehow save her own soul from her husband’s wickedness.”
“Or free her from the torment of living with the guilt,” Layla added, her voice barely a whisper. She closed the journal, its secrets now laid bare before them. “But in doing so, she only sealed their fates— both in life and in death.”
“Seems like they’re both trapped in their own private hell,” Jake mused. “Maybe if we can find a way to help them move on, we could finally put an end to this nightmare.”
“Let’s hope so,” Layla replied, feeling a renewed sense of determination. Together, they would face the darkness and bring the truth to light, freeing not only the spirits of Charles and Clarissa, but also their whole community.
As the weight of their discovery settled upon them, Jake found himself staring off toward the book shelves across the library, lost in thoughts of his past. The ghosts they were dealing with reminded him of something he had buried deep within himself, a memory that haunted him just as much as any restless spirit.
“Jake?” Layla’s soft voice pulled him from his reverie. He looked into her concerned eyes and knew that he couldn’t hide his turmoil any longer.
“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I just... This whole thing with the Harringtons—it reminds me of something I’d rather forget.”
“Tell me,” she urged gently, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. “We’re in this together, remember?”
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and began to speak. “When I was a rookie firefighter, there was this call we responded to. It was a house fire, just like any other, but when we went inside, we found a woman chained to the bed.”
Layla gasped, her grip on his arm tightening. “Oh my God, Jake...”
“She didn’t make it,” he continued, his voice choked with emotion. “Turns out her husband had been abusing her, keeping her tied up while he went off and did God knows what. He was eventually arrested, but not before he destroyed so many lives—including hers.”
“Jake, I’m so sorry you had to witness that,” Layla whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. “That must have been absolutely devastating.”
