Through the Shadows (13 page)

“There will be many women in your life, Avery, but there is only one that was created just for you. This ring belongs to her. There is magic in a ring created for the love of your life. Place this ring upon her hand and love her as your father loved me-for the rest of your life.”

She pulled his arm down so she could kiss the fingers closed over the ring. “I love you, my darling boy.” She let her eyes drift shut. Her smile remained even after she was gone.

Tori pulled a tissue from its box, then dabbed at her eyes. Her reaction to these words overrode the fear she had felt when she first came into the room. It was as if she felt the physical ache deep within her chest. Imagining the death of her own beloved mother caused her own heart to be squeezed in an emotional vise. She sighed deeply as she forced her attention back to the computer monitor.

He laid his head at her heart and was still for several minutes. When he felt her soul had time to float onward, he lifted his pale face to the heavens. The thick, plush velvet of the heavy draperies and the lush pile of carpet failed to absorb his wail of anguish. The pain and desolation were nearly too large for the mammoth room to hold. The sound was so pervasive, so large, even the sleeping pigeons were awakened and flew to various points of the village.

Though the piteous cries were loud, the release of emotions was short-lived. As quickly as the sobbing began it ended. He reigned in his outburst. In the aftermath, the silence was deafening.

Avery rose from the deathbed and turned to his mother’s three maids crying softly as they stood in the shadows. He touched each of their folded hands.

“Would you please help me? I need to get her ready. Find her favorite gown.” Under his breath but still audible, “This is going to be so difficult. Dear Mother, I miss you already.”

He rubbed his hands across his cheeks to wipe away the evidence of his tears. He was happy that there weren’t more people present to witness his weakness.

Tori’s anguished cries were as loud in the solid world as they were in the fictional account of Katherine Norcross’ death. In her own mind Tori envisioned making arrangements to bury Sharon. She imagined her mother’s waxy countenance, her still, cold body dressed in the clothing that Tori had taken to the funeral home, and the brave front Tori would be expected to wear for everyone else. The perceived pain was almost more than she could bear. She wished she could reach out to Avery, to hold him in her arms, to offer him comfort and console his wounded heart.

“What am I thinking? Console Avery? Have I finally, truly, lost my mind? This is a work of fiction. Words that I didn’t even write! O God, what’s going on here? This isn’t possible; it can’t be real!”

She put her head on the edge of the desk, her tears turning to agonized sobs of fear and confusion.

“Am I so lonely or insane that I could write chapters of a book and not remember it? Do I have such a need to create my own perfect man that I’ve lost touch with reality? Please, God, tell me what to do. Tell me how to get back to normal, whatever that may be.”

At this point her words became undecipherable. She lifted her head to stumble from the room. She buried her face in the pillows on her bed and once more cried herself to sleep.

* * *

He sat beside her on the mattress. He stroked her hair but he knew if she felt it at all through her wracking sobs, she would mistake the touch for merely a draft of wind.

If only I had more substance so that I could comfort you as you wish to comfort me.

I have learned so much while watching you, being near you. I can push the buttons on that strange machine to create words but I cannot make you feel my touch.

I would lie beside you and hold you in my arms until your tears dried and you smiled into my eyes. I would caress your slender shoulders and run my fingers through your fiery, soft curls. If only I was fully here, I would love your pain away.

Avery began to feel a heaviness in his body that was deeper than an emotional reaction to his feelings for Tori.

Chapter Twelve

At some point during the early morning hours, Tori left her bed and sat in front of her computer. She wasn’t aware she’d done it. When she again awoke at her desk, her neck and shoulders screamed in protest.

“Okay, dammit, that’s it! I’ve had it. I’m fed up with this crap! So, what to do about it? I need to talk to someone other than myself. I don’t really think I’m crazy anymore. So Tori, who do you talk to about all this Twilight Zone junk? I wonder if there’s an 800 number, maybe for a group called ‘Ghostbusters R Us.’ ”

She walked to her bedroom, fell onto the side of her bed and pulled the phone book from the drawer in the nightstand.

He listened as Tori spoke to someone about her haunted house. He shook his head as she described cold spots, objects being moved, familiar voices calling her name when no one was there. He grinned at her humorous descriptive phrases. Avery was certain that whoever was on the other side of the speaking device must be laughing.

“Ah sweet, Victoria, if you only knew that the only haunting here is what you are doing to my heart.”

The ghost busters arrived at the house early, long before Tori wanted to be awake, dressed, and genial to strangers. She knew all of them would be upset to be called anything other than parapsychologists. She’d just keep that term to herself. Tori offered them coffee and they carried it around with them as they worked.

They spent hours walking through the house, at times with their hands outstretched into thin air, their heads were nearly touching as they whispered to each other and casting sidelong glances into the shadowy corners of every room. They held instruments that emitted high-pitched squeaking noises when tested.

Phrases like
electromagnetic field
,
amorphous
,
astral plane
, and
discarnate entity
peppered their dialogue. Digital recorders were placed in different rooms for EVP or electronic voice phenomena. The technicians explained that many times words were captured on recorders when no one was present. It’s the way a spirit tries to communicate with the living. Tori nodded as if she knew what the heck they were talking about.

“Where do you notice the most activity?”

“Activity?”

“You know—cold spots, hot spots, the feeling that someone is watching you, objects being moved, etc.”

“Oh, in just about every room; however, the room I’m most concerned with is my office. That’s the place that scares me the most. I’ll go in there and find pages written for my new book that I didn’t write.”

James, the self-proclaimed director of the group, snapped his head around. Tori could imagine his ears perking up as he raised his eyebrows.

“Really? Perhaps it’s automatic writing, with a modern technological slant to it. I’ve heard of it being done with pen and paper but I have to admit, I’ve never heard of it being done with a computer keyboard before.”

“What is it, this automatic writing? Sounds weird to me.”

“I would imagine it does sound strange but it’s a more common occurrence than most people realize. Someone writes, or in your case perhaps, types without any conscious thought. We believe it to be a spirit writing through a living being.”

Tori tried to smooth the frown that she could feel was furrowed between her eyebrows, but was unsuccessful.

“Uh, what?”

“A spirit has something to convey to you, a loved one, or just anyone who will listen. It could be that he or she left something undone, an injustice was done, or is trying to warn someone that disaster is coming.”

“But this… man, for I’m certain it’s male, is writing entire chapters of a historical romance. In essence, he’s doing my job for me and scaring me more every time he does it.”

“I don’t have an answer for you there. Maybe he doesn’t like your style or he’s just trying to make sure you’re accurate.” He laughed too loud, too pleased with his own wit.

Tori stared at him until he understood the glare and stopped braying. Her footfalls were hard and her shoulders tight when she exited the room. She heard James sputtering an apology behind her.

Chapter Thirteen

“Hello?”

“Lydia, it’s me, Tori. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but it’s okay. You know I’m usually still up at midnight but it’s been a long day and I was tired. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing really.”

“You’re not like other women, Tori, calling me just to chat, especially at this hour. Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. Don’t you ever sleep anymore, Victoria?”

“I have a question, Lydia.”

“And that would be…?”

“I’m thinking about taking up drinking full-time. Can you give me any advice? You know, share a few tips with the new kid chasing the booze wagon?”

“You know, love, if it weren’t you saying these things, I…”

“I know, Lydia, I know. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to offend you or upset you. I’m an ungrateful wench.”

“A wench, eh? Very old-worldly of you, Sweetheart. Okay, spill it. What’s wrong? I’m awake now so you might as well open up. It’s obvious you want to talk to someone.”

“I’m scared, Lydia.”

Tori could hear the bed sheets rustle and imagined Lydia sitting ramrod straight against the headboard.

“Scared? What’s going on, Tori? What’s happening? Is someone threatening you? Is that bastard Roger bothering you again? I’ll hurt him so…”

Her subdued voice silenced Lydia faster than a shout of obscenities.

“No, Lydia. It has nothing to do with that slime-ball.”

“Well then, what is it? C’mon Tori, don’t make me drag this out of you. You’re starting to make me nervous. You know I don’t like to be nervous. It’s why I drink.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lydia let that one slide.

“My house is haunted—or something.”

“What? For the love of Pete, Tori!”

“No, really! There’s something very spooky going on here.”

“Define
spooky
, Tori.”

She told Lydia everything then. She began with the instances of objects being moved, even thrown, the radio taking on its own personality, the times an unseen someone stood behind her, and even the cold and hot spots in various rooms.

As Tori expected, Lydia began to logically account for each symptom of the supposed haunting.

“It’s an old house, Dear. The structure settles, getting all comfy on its perch. That would sometimes cause things to slide off a table or slip from a countertop. Of course you’re going to have drafts of cold air. I’d be s
urprised
if you didn’t have many of them. And your stereo is nearly as old as the house. I’ll buy you a new one. And all of us have felt as if someone were watching us, standing behind us, even following us from room to room. Frightening, unsettling, but not a ghost. Maybe you need to get some of those odd people to come in there to check it out for you. Just to put your mind at rest.”

“I did, Lydia.”

“Wow! Okay, so what did they have to say?”

“They said that I was nuts to hang around with you.”

“Victoria…”

“Okay, okay. They hooked up all these wacky gadgets, had wires strung all over the floor and instruments held in their sweaty palms.”

“Well, you sound positive about this experience. I’ll assume they didn’t find anything.”

Tori gritted her teeth.

“ ‘Nothing conclusive’ is how they put it, which means they found nuttin’. They did, however, have a couple of suggestions. Other than being committed to the loony bin, it was said I should find someone to ‘channel’, which is a fancy word for a psychic. Then I heard the term
cryptomnesia
used in conjunction to me and I got the definition out of James before I threw them out of the house.”

“I’ll bite. What does
cryptomnesia
mean?”

“It’s knowledge that may be revealed without the person remembering its source. Sometimes the phrase is used to explain forgotten memories which only appear to be paranormal experiences.”

“Well, alrighty then! I have no idea what the hell you just said, but okay.”

Tori cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and then finished the story.

“Lydia, there was one thing I’ve left out of this—the strangest occurrence of all. My current book is nearly completed.”

“But, darling, that’s wonderful! Why do you sound so upset about this fact? This is great news!”

“I’m not the one writing the book, Lydia.”

Tori had never known her agent to be speechless. She could hear the seconds ticking off her bedside clock as she waited.

“We’re taking you to a doctor, a good doctor, not some quack. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you that! Now don’t you worry, Tori, it’s going to be okay, because I’m going to make it okay.”

“No, Lydia, no doctor. I know that no one believes me; I’ve come to accept that. I just wanted to tell you about this so that you’ll know why I’ve been acting more squirrelly than usual, and to help me hide it from Mom.”

“Now, Tori, don’t put me in this position. Sharon will know that something is wrong. She is your mother and you can’t hide from a mother’s intuition.”

“With your help, I can. If you love me, help me. If this book takes off as you think it will, I’ll have enough money to move out of this old house. Then everything will be okie dokie once again.”

“But, Tori, what are you going to do until then?”

“I’m going to get a dog.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Whew, it sho’ does stink in here!” Breathing through her mouth, Tori yelled out. “Hello? Anybody home?”

Footsteps came shuffling down the concrete hallway. The stench of tobacco reached her nostrils before she actually visualized the man. His uniform looked as if he’d either slept in it or took it out of a dryer after the spin cycle had finished, then slept in it that night, and wore it to work today. Evidently, he had lost his razor at some point because the stubble on his face had at least a three day start on the wrinkles in his clothing. No smile greeted her outstretched hand offered in greeting.