Aftersight (24 page)

"What about one of her friends?"

Before Humphreys could reply, Tommy answered. "Emily hasn't been spending a lot of time with friends since this started."

"After the party, the night they were playing with the watchama'thingy—"

"Spirit board."

"—her friends have steered clear of her. That night, objects in her room started flying off the shelves of their own accord. Mirrors, books, porcelain animals, soaring from one wall to the other with enough impact to shatter on the opposite wall. Even her most loyal friends stopped playing with her after a while."

"Did you see the objects fly yourself?" I asked.

"Not myself, no. But I saw the immediate aftermath and the girls cowering in terror. If you're suggesting that this is an elaborate hoax..."

"I'm just tryin' to ascertain what you saw for yourself and what you was told. It's the difference between eyewitnessin' and hearsay."

"No, I didn't see the objects fly on that occasion, but I have on others."

"What happened?"

"The three of us were eating dinner when we heard a crash from the other room. A heavy iron wall piece had smashed on the floor. The three of us were all together and no one else was in the house at the time."

"But you didn't see it fly across the room with your own eyes?"

"Mr. Allard, the piece maybe weighed 10K! I found it on the entirely opposite side of the room from where it was mounted. I had been in that room and seen that piece on the wall not fifteen minutes beforehand. There can be no alternative explanation."

Tommy gave me the snake eyes.
Take it easy,
he seemed to say.

"What else?"

"My wife and I have heard growling. Like the sound of a big dog."

"Where?"

"Coming from Emily's room. I've heard it in the middle of the night when I've gone in to check on her after she's called to us. My wife has heard it occasionally when she's gone in there to clean, when Emily's away at school. Some of the housekeeping staff have heard it, too. Always from Emily's bedroom."

"Have you tried switching her to a different room?"

"Twice, but that doesn't seem to help. The disturbances only follow her."

I took out my notebook and scribbled in it. "What's that," Lord Humphreys asked. "What's he doing?"

"I'm takin' notes," I answered. "What's it look like?"

"No notes! No physical evidence that can be traced back to me. If the press learns that we've spoken..."

"Relax," I shot back. "I ain't writin' anythin' identifiable. You're safe with us, Mr. Humphreys."

"
Lord
Humphreys," Tommy corrected.

"Lord Humphreys," I began, "I was wonderin' if we could revisit this idea of not lettin' us bring any equipment into the—"

"No, no. No equipment."

"If you're worried about us makin' a fuss, we can keep a low profile."

"I'm afraid I can't take that risk," Lord Humphreys said. "Besides, I just can't afford it financially." He grabbed a sheaf of papers in a file folder on his desk. "Why, look at this. These electrical bills are costing me a small fortune. This place has always been costly, but these last months the charges have gone up catastrophically. The last thing I need you chaps doing is plugging in fancy equipment and bleeding my pockets dry."

The interview went on for another half-hour while we collected more information on the order of events and detail of the disturbances. When I was satisfied with what I'd heard, I folded my notebook and asked, "So what is it that we can do for ya', Mr., I mean,
Lord
Humphreys?"

"Why, I want you to get rid of this thing. Make it stop, like you did for Laremy."

"Course," I replied. "We'll do our best, but first we need to get to the bottom of this. Find out what we're dealin' with."

"Do what you need to do, Mr. Allard, Mr. Banks, as long as you keep it quiet. The quicker the better. I don't have the time nor the resources for another move. Not in this real estate market. I fear we're here to stay for a while."

Cali

Stables, Waltham Manor

April 24

Sara, Becky, Nicole, and I, outfitted in our latest riding gear, mounted our horses and made our way north. This was our virgin trek out on the riding trails. It was just after eleven o'clock in the morning and dusty sunlight fell through the trees that grew on either side of the rutted path. Sara was in the lead on her black horse, Pepper, taking it slow and making soothing horse sounds, as if communicating to the animals in some secret language that only she seemed to know. It was our first outing on the Waltham estate by ourselves and I think she felt kind of responsible for us newbie riders.

Becky and Nicole rode together in the center, laughing and pointing out interesting landmarks. Their horses, Jasper and Yorick, seemed to be old friends and liked to walk side-by-side. I took up the rear, trying to remember everything I'd learned from my riding lessons, keeping the reins tight to prevent Maestro from accelerating into a trot. He was a spirited animal, but I felt strangely comfortable with him. Growing up I'd always had a dog, but my attempts to connect with Maestro were somehow different. He was just so flipping huge! At the same time, he felt like an old friend, someone who'd watch over and take care of me if something bad went down. Someone I could trust.

The landscape directly around Waltham Manor looked more or less like an old park, with mature trees and trimmed lawns cut through with paths, hedges, and creeks. Occasionally, statues or fountains decorated the side of the trail with plaques dedicated to Waltham family members or special teachers or students who had once attended the academy. But as we traveled farther north, the open patches of grass were interrupted by dense woods or hollows with gazebos or little outdoor theaters that made me imagine summer plays performed under the stars.

Around noon the girls and I stopped for lunch. We dismounted where a freshly cut lawn sloped down to a large pond. A tiny island in the middle of the pond had a stately maple growing up from its center, its branches billowing out over the water like a giant umbrella. Willows, oaks, and chestnuts surrounded the pond and, on its far side, thick woods and bracken grew so bunched together that it made it impossible to explore.

From our high vantage point, we could just make out a re-creation of a Roman temple on the pond's opposite shore, partially overgrown with trees and vines. Steps led up to a large stone patio covered with black-and-white checkered tile. Fluted columns of yellow stone supported a crumbling roof structure and an elaborate marble railing outlined steps leading down into the pond's brackish waters. In the pond itself, the tops of more columns and statues partially broke the water's surface, hinting at a lost city submerged beneath its dark surface.

After we tied up the horses, Nicole and Becky spread out blankets and unpacked lunch from the saddlebags. The sun was high and warm overhead, but there was a cold breeze blowing from the west mixed with the briny scent of the sea. I ate lunch slightly apart from the others, sitting on my wool blanket and trying not to puke up my sandwich. Becky was getting on my flippin' nerves and I think if I sat too close I might just have to kill her. She and Nicole shared a blanket and ate lunch off the same plate. Becky was telling lame jokes and Nicole was actually laughing.
Laughing!
It was like Becky was flirting with her.

I'm jealous,
I realized, chomping on an apple and puckering at its tartness.
This is so screwed up. I'm actually jealous of Becky and Nicole.
This was just the kind of screwed up, high school drama that made me prefer hanging out with guys. But here I was, my stomach in knots, bile rising from the back of my throat.
Jealous. Give me a break!

I was losing her, I realized. Losing Nicole to Becky. It's like they'd had this sisterly thing going since they'd met, something I couldn't be a part of. Was it just that or was it something more? I looked longingly at Nicole, wanting to be with her in a way I'd never felt before. I'd never been attracted to a girl and I was pretty sure I wasn't attracted to Nicole
in that way
. But my heart ached when I looked at her and I felt my face flush when I thought that she might prefer Becky to me.

When Becky pressed an olive to Nicole's lips and Nicole ate it with a giggle, my hands started shaking. For just a second I imagined propelling my fist hard into Becky's surgically enhanced nose.
I'd better watch it. One of them is going to use their psychic radar and know exactly what's going on.
I took a deep breath and used the meditation techniques I'd learned these past few months to try to cool off. Deep breaths, a lot of deep breaths, but I couldn't quite settle down.

I made eye contact with Sara just then, who'd been grazing on the last of her sandwich and watching me.
I know,
Sara's expression seemed to say,
but I won't tell. You'll just have to sort this out for yourself.

"I'm going to take you to the ruins next," Sara announced, breaking the spell of our gaze. "I've told you about them before. Prior to Waltham Academy, the old manor house was located on the far northern edge of the estate. It was quite grand and made mostly of stone, with turrets and battlements to give it the air of a castle. It had servants' quarters, stables, smithies, and elaborate gardens. There was a fire in the late 1700s and the whole place was destroyed. Several family members and a host of servants perished in the flames."

"That's awful," Becky said with a grimace. "Does anyone know how the fire started?"

"No one knows for certain," Sara answered. "Some say it was a chimney fire, and that's all well, good, and plausible. But this happened during a time when our king, King George III, was going mad. There's evidence to suggest that the Waltham family was financially supporting a faction that wanted to put the prince regent on the throne in the king's stead. Some say — and there's otherworldly information to back this up — that servants loyal to the crown discovered this and burnt the house to the ground so that the family could no longer afford such high-minded expenditures. If that's really what happened, it seems to have worked.

"Of course, the ruins and the vicinity are said to be haunted. I know that Uncle Alex will occasionally take students to the site, either to make contact with spirits that may still be lingering there, or for students to practice using their intuition to determine what actually happened that late September night when the fire broke out."

"I'm not sure about this," Becky said uneasily, looking at Nicole for support. "If there really is some kind of negative energy there, maybe it's not such a good idea for us to go. I mean, not with that dark spirit hanging around us."

"Don't be such a baby," I said, taking a big bite of apple so juice dribbled from my mouth and lip ring. "We're not spending the night, just taking a look." I hurled my apple core into the woods and went to the pond to rinse my hands, catching Becky's uneasy glance at Sara and Nicole.

The week before, we'd taken Becky's sketch of the man in black to Sir Alex, who'd examined it and questioned us about our previous encounters with him. When Sir Alex seemed satisfied that he'd learned all he could from us, he folded the sketch in half and promised that he'd look into it.

"But Uncle Alex, what if we're in danger?" Sara pleaded. "If this old man is the one that's been haunting our room, he's been causing a great deal of mischief."

"I have no evidence to suggest that this entity is out to do you harm," Sir Alex replied. "Until I know exactly what it's about, there's really nothing we can do but take the usual precautions and wait it out. As I said, I'll look into it." He smiled dismissively, and we'd gone back to our rooms with the idea that he wasn't going to do much of anything about it.

After we packed up our saddlebags, we got on our horses and picked up the trail where we left off, following it on its northwesterly direction deeper into the woods. The wilderness to our left was a confusion of curving branches, leafy ferns, and thickly tangled vines. As I traced the landscape with my eyes, I could imagine fairy-like creatures dancing in the trees like fireflies. There was an ancient presence there that I could sense studying us and I wondered if we'd ever get a chance to explore it further.

The horse path followed the winding course of a small stream as it wandered into the trees. Occasionally, the trail crossed the stream, forcing the horses through the slow-moving currents to leave a trail of wet hoof-prints in their wake. As the afternoon continued, clouds gathered overhead, darkening the broken patches of sky we glimpsed through the trees and sprinkling us with occasional flecks of rain.