Ghostlight (11 page)

Once we got back to the cottage, Lily went straight to the living room and curled up on the couch to watch her daddy play guitar. I was hankering for some Weasley cuddling time myself, but there was footage to watch, so I followed Julian upstairs. He pulled the second chair toward the desk and settled himself in front of the keyboard, jiggling his mouse to wake the computer.

“Stupid glare.” He rose from the chair to shut the curtains.

Julian's computer desktop was simple and tidy. The wallpaper was plain blue, and there were only four folders, labeled
PROJECTS, PHOTOS, FOOTAGE,
and
BULLIED.
The last one stood out to me, though I wasn't sure why.

Then I remembered the clip on Julian's tablet—the one of a school lunchroom.

When Julian sat back down, I pointed at the folder. “What's that?”

He didn't answer right away, and I turned to find him staring at the screen, his jaw tight.

“Is it a movie?” I asked. “I saw a clip with the same title on your tablet. I just, um, happened to be looking at your photos and video clips, and—”

“It's an early project I should have deleted already,” he said quickly. “Are you going to bring that tablet back?”

He still wasn't looking at me.

“Julian, were you bullied at school or something?”

“No, I wasn't.” He cleared his throat. “Can we move on? Before we get to the shots from yesterday, I want to show you something.” He opened the footage folder and clicked on a file titled
DRAFT1
to expand it to full screen. “I've been playing around with the opening of our film. I put some still shots together and changed them all to black and white, and I applied a filter to make it look a little aged.”

He clicked Play and an image faded in—a wide shot of the pasture with the old cow barn standing a little left of center. That transitioned to a shot of the cattail pond, which looked more artistic than I would have expected in the grainy black-and-white filter. The next image was Hilliard House—a daytime shot taken at a low angle so that it looked proud and tall. That faded into the nighttime photo he'd shown me the week before, with the light in the window. He'd lined the images up almost perfectly, and the transition made my scalp tingle. A title appeared below the house in pale letters that glowed and flickered:

GHOSTLIGHT

BY

J
ULIAN
W
AYNE

The whole screen faded to black again.

“Wow,” I said.

“Do you like it?”

“Um, yeah. It's cool, but it also gives me the creeps. Is that going to be the movie's title?”

“Maybe.” He backed the scene up and paused at the title frame. “It's a theater term. Supposedly every theater has a ghost, and long ago people started leaving a stage light on to keep the ghosts happy. You know, in case they wanted to perform when no one was around. Neat, huh?”

Before I could respond, he pulled up another file.

“Here's the footage I wanted to show you.”

It was a scene from Margaret Anne's room. Lily sat on the braided rug holding the tarnished silver frame. The doll sat next to her, propped against the bed frame.

“She made me pick the mouse droppings out of that thing's belly,” Julian murmured.

Lily straightened the doll's legs and then focused on the photograph. “Margaret Anne,” she called softly. “Are you there?”

Lily's body rocked gently as she continued to stare at the photograph, a lot like what I'd seen earlier that day. She called out twice more, each time sounding a little more desperate, and then her body stilled. She looked up, eyes wide. The camera zoomed in so far that I could see the fat pupils of her eyes.

“I see you there,” Lily said.

Heat flushed my cheeks, traveling all the way to the roots of my hair. I wasn't afraid, exactly. My heart was thumping and my face was hot because I felt off-kilter, as if everything around me had tilted.

At that point, the camera pulled back and panned to the right, moving Lily to the left of the frame. The doll sat at the center. On the right was the empty space Lily was staring at. I stared, too, trying to see what she saw.

“Of course I'll be your friend,” Lily said. “Do you want to play?”

She put the photo down and pretended to set a table for tea and cookies, all the while chattering away…to nobody.

“Does this remind you of anything?” Julian asked.

“Huh?”

“She's talking to someone in Hilliard House.”

The back of my neck started prickling so bad I had to hunch my shoulders.

Julian turned back to the computer screen and pointed. “Now, watch closely.”

All I saw was Lily talking as she mimed pouring tea from an imaginary pot into an imaginary cup.

“Did you see it?”

I shook my head. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Watch the space next to Lily.” He paused the video and moved it back several frames. “Try to look where she's looking.”

This time I concentrated, and at the point where Lily raised the pretend cup to her lips, something flickered in that space where Julian had told me to look. The space where Margaret Anne was supposed to be.

“Did you see it that time?”

“I saw
something.
Or maybe I just blinked.”

“I'll pause it,” he said, backing up the scene again.

Once again we watched Lily pouring her invisible tea. Just as she had brought her own invisible cup two inches from her lips, Julian paused the video. This time I could see the wispy thing hanging in the air across from Lily. It wasn't a person, but it was
something.
Like a puff of steam.

I turned to him. “Are you saying that's Margaret Anne's ghost?”

“Well…I just think it's cool. We could be making a ghost movie in a house that's actually haunted.” His eyes gleamed. “It would explain what your brother saw all those years ago.”

I stared at the wispy thing on the screen. “Why can't I see her
now
?”

“Maybe you're too old. Maybe she can only show herself to people her age. That's why Lily can see her and we can't.”

My shoulders were bunching up again. “I'm not going back there again.”

“Avery, we have to go back. One more time is all, I promise. I need to finish the movie, and maybe we'll get a clearer shot of the…whatever it is. Can you imagine how cool that would be? We could be famous.”

“I don't know. I need to think about this.”

He shook his head. “There's no time. Your grandma's selling the place. If we don't do it tomorrow, we may never have the chance again.”

Mom cooked supper that night—her way of making up with Grandma after the church Communion incident. Blake and I loved her cheese enchiladas with blue corn chips and homemade salsa, but Grandma's mouth tightened as she picked at her plate.

“Is this what they call Tex-Mex?” she muttered. “A little bit of ground beef wouldn't have gone amiss.”

Mom took the high road by ignoring her. “I was thinking tomorrow would be the perfect day for our trek to the lake. Forecast looks great.”

I set my fork down. “Julian and I are supposed to finish filming tomorrow.”

“Well…” Mom frowned. “I'm going with Grandma to the Realtor on Wednesday. There's a solid offer on Hilliard House and the buyers want to move quickly. Maybe that would be a good day for you guys to finish?”

“I don't need your help, Maddie,” Grandma said. “I've managed without you before. You three can go to the lake on Wednesday if you like.”

“But I want to help, Mama.”

“Well, in that case…” Grandma smiled.

Mom turned to me. “So, swimming at the lake tomorrow? Are we settled?”

I nodded and tried to smile. “I'll just call Julian.”

The thing was…if Grandma was meeting with the Realtor on Wednesday, I needed to have the key back tomorrow, just to be safe. That meant we'd never finish the film.

So why did I feel more than a little relieved?

After supper I took Grandma's phone upstairs to call Julian.

“We'll just have to do it tonight,” he said after I'd explained. “Actually, that would be even better.”

“Tonight? Mom won't let me. I'm supposed to be in bed by eight-thirty.”

“Then sneak out.”

The words were like fingers clamping around my throat.

“Avery, are you there?”

“Yes,” I croaked.

“It's no big deal. I do this sort of thing all the time. We can meet at eleven and they'll all be asleep. Your mom and grandma will never even know. Remember what I told you about artists and taking risks?”

“But—”

“Are you afraid of being in that house at night?”

“Well…
yeah.
”

“Perfect. It'll look great on film.”

The darkness was loud and hungry as I walked to Hilliard House. Crickets and katydids thickened the air with their chirps. Mosquitoes buzzed in my ears. The humidity draped around me like a damp curtain—all day it had looked like it might rain, but only a few drops fell. The clouds blacked out the stars, and God only knew what lurked in the shadows behind the trees.

Julian had said he'd be waiting on the front steps of Hilliard House. The flashlight didn't throw off much light, so I didn't see him until I was a few feet from the house.

“You freak,” I said. “Why are you sitting there in the dark?”

“I like it.” His foot tapped the bottom step. “It puts me in the mood for filming.”

He had that jittery thing going on again. Plus he looked super freaky with a lamp strapped on his head, like he was a cave explorer or something.

“Where's Lily?” I asked.

“She's sick. But we can work without her. I'll just get some footage of you, and then we should be done.”

I flashed my light on the house, which oozed gloom in the darkness. “But what's the story going to be? I haven't exactly seen a beginning, middle, or end to this thing.”

“Trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

He stood so quickly that I took a step back. He was wearing that strange T-shirt again—the one with the cartoon outline of a man's profile.

“All right,” I said. “Who
is
that on your shirt? Another film director?”

He sighed. “Seriously? It's Alfred Hitchcock.”

The name sounded familiar.

“
Rear Window
?” Julian said. “
Dial M for Murder
? How about
Psycho
?”

He looked like a psycho in the glow of my flashlight, but I held back from saying so. “Seems like I've heard of those movies.”

“People called Hitchcock the Master of Suspense. He made all sorts of spooky movies, but he never actually made a ghost film.” Julian lifted the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I don't want to turn on my headlamp until we get inside. You go ahead—I already unlocked the door.”

“You're going to give me that key back when we're done tonight, right? I keep forgetting to ask for it.”

“Of course you'll get it back. Did you think I was going to steal it?”

He stood on the top step with his arms crossed, as if he was trying to hold himself together. Maybe his dad had been right to ask him about his meds.

I summoned a calm, grown-up sort of voice.“Julian, are you okay?”

Even in the weak glow of my flashlight I could see the hurt in his eyes, and I started to apologize. But then he clasped his hands and stared at them for a long moment, breathing deeply like Mom had told me to do. Finally he raised his eyes to mine. “I'm totally okay. I think…I'm just excited to shoot this last scene. And I can't do it without you, Avery.”

My chest swelled a little at that. “All right. Tell me what to do.”

“I'll follow you in and get the camera set up. I want to do one last trip upstairs.”

“Without Lily?”

“I want to focus on
your
experience of Margaret Anne's room.” He shrugged out of his backpack and stepped aside for me. “Go on in.”

Something strange happened when I walked through that door. A feeling washed over me—cold but also prickly, like heat. It stopped me in my tracks.

Julian came up behind me. “Will you move so I can get inside?”

I took a few steps forward. As soon as he'd shut the door, he turned his headlamp on and started working the settings on his camera as if nothing had happened.

“Did you feel that?”

He didn't look up. “Feel what?”

“It was like a wave crashing into me.” I rubbed my arms. “I still feel it—hot and cold at the same time, like when you have the flu.”

He raised his head, shining the light in my eyes. “You look a little pale. Maybe you're coming down with what Lily has.” He snapped the microphone into place. “By the way, pale is perfect for this scene.”

When I stepped toward the staircase, the feeling eased up a bit. “I think it was coming from the parlor,” I said. “But it wasn't like that before.”

“Forget about that room,” said Julian. “It's not interesting on film.” He moved to stand in the dining room doorway. “Go back outside and walk through the door, but take your time. And try to look a little confused.”

“I
am
confused. What am I supposed to be doing?”

“You're looking for Lily. You think she might be in the house. I'm going to film you going up the stairs to Margaret Anne's room.”

I shook my head. “But Lily's not here.”

“That's the point. I know how the movie ends.”

“How? I don't even know how it started. You never talked about the
story
with me.”

He blew his breath out impatiently. “This movie is about two sisters. The younger sister, played by Lily, can sense things in the house that the older sister can't.”

“And?”

“One night the younger sister disappears. Your character comes to the house to look for her. But she's not here. Margaret Anne has taken her. The younger sister disappears into the house, lost forever.”

My heart lurched. “You mean the house swallows her up or something? There's no body?”

“That's what I'm thinking. I mean, we don't exactly have the budget for a death scene.” He held up the camera. “Okay, if you're done with the twenty questions, we should get started. Come through the front door again. Take your time and I'll follow. Maybe you could call out to Lily when you get halfway up the stairs—I think that would be cool.”

“So we're using real names?”

“Lily will love it.”

I looked back at the door. I didn't want that wave crashing into me again, but at least after tonight I wouldn't have to deal with it. I walked out the door, closed it, and after a pause reached for the knob. It didn't want to turn at first, but when I leaned against the door, it turned easily. I braced myself, but the wave of queasiness was even more intense this time.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Julian give me the thumbs-up. My suffering must have looked good on film. Leaving the door open, I pushed through until I reached the foot of the stairs.

I could feel the camera staring at me.

“Lily?” My voice was scratchy.

I put my hand on the banister and pulled myself up the stairs, one step at a time. All I had to do was go to Margaret Anne's room and act like I couldn't find Lily. Then I'd make a big scaredy face at the camera, and maybe that would be enough for Julian.

“Stop there and don't move an inch,” said Julian. “I want to go to the top and film you from a high angle.”

To make me look small and helpless.

When he got to the top and gestured for me to follow, I took each step slowly, pausing two-thirds of the way. “Lily, are you up there?”

I heard something then. Just the barest whisper of a sound, like a hiss or a splash. I looked straight at the camera, but Julian didn't stop. Maybe he hadn't heard it. I started down the hallway toward Margaret Anne's room, but paused at the bathroom. The door had always been wide open before. Now it was partly closed. I pointed my flashlight through the gap and saw the bathtub.

The last time we were here, the tub had been dark with dirt and rust stains.

Now I could see water in it.

I turned back to Julian. “What's going on?”

With his left hand he pointed at the bathroom door and made the winding-film gesture.

Keep going.

My heart pounded a little faster as I stepped toward the door and pushed it wider. The tub was deep, and the water came all the way to the top. Some of it had splashed over the side, leaving puddles on the floor.

I could feel Julian behind me, so I took another step toward the tub. A coil of dark hair floated to the surface. I moved closer and saw the flower print of a dress with the skirt floating up. Bare arms, thin and brown, were wrapped around the china doll.

“Lily!”

I stumbled to the edge of the tub. She lay at the bottom, her hair reaching up to the surface like pondweed. The doll's pink skirt and petticoat lifted to reveal the strangely tiny feet. Its painted eyes stared. Lily's green eyes were wide open, too—glassy and lifeless like the doll's. Her lips were parted, but no bubbles rose to the surface.

I turned to Julian, who was still filming.

“What are you doing? Help me get her out!”

Julian seemed frozen in place. I couldn't see his face under that crazy headlamp, but I knew shock could do that to a person. My own arms and legs felt heavy, like I was moving through a nightmare. I dropped the flashlight and turned back to Lily.

She was so small. All I had to do was place my hands behind her neck and lift her up. Maybe that would shake some sense into Julian. He knew everything—surely he would know how to squeeze the water out of her lungs and get her breathing again.

I reached toward her with shaking hands.

In a rush and splashing of water, Lily sat straight up and stared at me with those wide, dead eyes. Her mouth opened and an inhuman sound came out—a shriek like nothing I'd ever heard in this world.

I reared back, gasping for breath as my heart vaulted into my throat. My hands scrambled for something to break my fall, but there was nothing except slick tile.

The last thing I saw before my head hit the wall behind me was Julian still holding the camera.