✶☽ ⋫ PARANORMAL PANIC ⋪ ☾✶

The house had been vacant for years.

The world around it had changed. Buildings had stood and fell, people came and went, the brick road had been pulled and replaced with the pavement. And yet, the house stayed, stubbornly planted like the crabgrass between the lot and the sidewalk. Large and sweeping, the house was a shadow of the town down the hill. There were many strange things about it- the dark architecture and paint that was quite ‘out-of-fashion’ when it had been built and in the new era it found itself, how the land was completely barren with dead grass and a rotted vegetable garden, even the strange noises that seem to stir from it late at night. Everyone in town had their whispers of the haunt. The inexplicable events and visions that danced in the peripheral of those who passed late at night. But the strangest was its body count. 


No.


There were no official records of death on the grounds since the 19th century, but there had been plenty of disappearances. Kids who went exploring on the sprawling acreage, local madcap adventurers who sought out treasure in the decrypted mansion, even a couple looking for a phone on a stormy night. The rumor was that the people who were not sensible enough to leave quickly once they arrived were never seen again. 

Or.

Perhaps seen again. But not how they wanted to be seen.

It was a large estate. Many bedrooms and bathrooms, a rather large kitchen, a rather large foyer. A library. A Greenhouse. Even an extensive art collection. All in the state that it had been built, miraculously holding together after centuries of neglect.

Perhaps out of spite.

--

“Here we are!! And it looks even better than in the photos.”

Jake was many things, but he was not a great liar. His fingers tapped rhythmically to the slight rise in heartbeat, the leather padding softly under his fingertips. The van was a complete home away from home- once the show took off a bit, he broke his lease and took a chance on the beauty. Had a full bed in the back, a pop-up top for an extra bed, even a bath in the back when they hit long stretches of road. Which they certainly did hit while arriving at this craphole.

The house was in shit shape- when he tried to look it up (past the generic haunt sites, onto whatever backwater real estate listing he could find), the details were sparse. No square footage, no telling what year the thing was built, no floorplans. There was only an address and a general vibe of “it’s a bad idea to go here dude, take the hint.”

Of course, all this searching happened after he received the mysterious deed in his mail.

Still, he had to keep on a happy face for his buddies who were chilling in the back of the van. They went along with his hare-brained schemes, visited many haunted locales with various success for the show. It was all quite familiar to Jake, even if it was foreign to everyone else. He had always known that he was… different. That he saw and felt things that others did not. He couldn’t describe it when it happened, the pull deep in his belly, the mist removed from his vision to see what was truly there. The rest of his Scooby Gang might not have believed him, but he didn’t mind too much. The countless houses that they had explored together had proved that there were things beyond their understanding.

“So… Who sent you the deed to this place?” A sweet voice perked up from the back. Jake’s eyes switched to the rearview, seeing his lovely girlfriend smiling back. He had really hit the jackpot with Lindy- small and toned with sunny blonde hair and eyes like fucking sapphires. On her lap, the thick head of a golden retriever sat, the sweetest brown eyes looking doubtfully up at her owner. Her dense tail had been thumping on the bench since they left a couple of days prior but stopped since. A soft whine escaped her lips, Lindy’s hand moving to scratch the back of her ears. Mandy was a rescue that they found in someone street town out west. They were investigating a somewhat legitimate ghost town, which turned out to be just a one spirit operation. It had almost been one of the worst episodes they had ever recorded until they found the final piece to their crew, a sweet and adorable mascot. Most people on the road would not want to adopt a three-legged lady, but then again. They weren’t most people!

“Anonymous babe. Means we don’t know!”

That was true- they literally had no idea. No return address in the envelope it had arrived- scrawling handwriting that was bordering on calligraphy saying the ownership of the house was now turned over to one Jacob McKinley. And not only the house, but the impressive and sprawling acreage it sat upon. A Barn. A little orchard. Jake assumed it was some sort of fan or something- the house was dripping in history and would make for a great episode. Heck, maybe two or three!

But even crossing the threshold of the property, Jake could feel something different about this place. The vibes were absolutely rancid, it could peel paint off a truck with how absolutely rotten they were. And it affected him physically, the roll of a shoulder, the quick shift of eyes to his loved ones, the tighter grip on the wheel as the tapping became faster.

“Jake, do you have to record something now?” Lindy teased, adjusting her legs, careful not to move the gentle baby. Hand reach and fingers weave through her own golden hair, pulling and tugging it back into a messy bun. Little wisps float into her face, framing her better than any portrait. She looked perfectly at ease, as usual. Unflappable. 

As if she didn't feel the icy wall that hit him as they crossed over the property, as if this house was just like the others- a little spooky, but nothing that they couldn’t handle. Maybe one poltergeist, just attached to the place with ill will. Jake felt the smile in her voice and knew that she didn't feel the grasping fingers of dozens of lost souls trying to grip and pull and drag. The hundreds of lost stories, the pit in his chest that threatened to swallow him whole.

Truthfully, the thought of recording just didn’t sit still in his mind. The thought shifted and slid around in his noggin. Normally, this type of content is absolutely something he would hop right in, but it left that uneasy, hollow pit to grow. His eyes shift from Lindy to the man sitting passenger, looking for answers. Of course, eyes did not meet. 

Long, grasshopper-like legs were crumpled in the cabin, in a way that could not be comfortable. The boy, his body as stick-thin as Jake’s, was hunched over itself while inspecting some supposed ghost detecting device. Jake wasn’t sure how far Steve’s belief went with these things, but the boy did try. And it made Jake feel warm in his belly to know that his friend probably thought he was crazy but went along with it anyways. From the legs, eyes flicked to the face, the sharp chin and flat nose, the bright orange hair held back by a brighter headband that had been tie-dyed months before. The dude kept his eyes on his work, but it didn’t bother Jake a bit. It’s just how his best bud was- hyper-focused on his current fixation, spindly fingers working deftly and with grace. He could watch those fingers for hours- it was like they had brains in them, working, fine-tuning, and fluttering to no end.

It looked like Jake had to once again explain the vague discomfort without having his friends worry about him. His fingers kept drumming as he focuses back on the house, trying to make his face look like it was in thought instead of slight worry.

“Maybe we should wait until we get inside. Acoustics and Ambience and, uh, ya know. But as soon as we get in, we can get it all set up.”

Finally, the freckled and tattooed fingers paused their tapping as palms decorated with ink flatten against the wheel. He pulled them int the dirt driveway, dust, and pebbles flying to the sides of the van. Lindy began to scratch the dense fur on their three-legged baby, murmuring softly at how much of a good girl she was, how they would be out soon. Jake hated to admit it, wouldn’t admit it, but he agreed with the dog.

Vibes. Rancid.

But he did what he could, scanning the house, starting with the porch that had evidence of rotting wood, to the blackened stone chimney at the top of the house. Green eyes occasionally lingered on things that caught interest- the turreted breakfast nook in the kitchen whose windows were cracked in spiderweb fractals. The vines growing on top of one another, rotted vegetation peeking from in between the browning leaves. The corners of the house that seemed charred and smoke-stained, despite no record of fire since their restoration. The figure standing staunch in the second-story window. The strange flower bed in the middle of-

Wait.

The figure.

Jake slammed on the brakes, everyone following suit by jerking forward. Steve’s hands fumbled with the device he had been so steadfastly working on, before clutching it to his heart! But Jake paid no mind, his eyes flicking back to the second-story window. A figure- a man, he was sure of it- had been standing and staring, he could have sworn to see the faint orange glow of a cigarette. Details, such as a face, such as eyes, were not discernable, but Jake felt the stare. 

Except.

The window was bare, just the dusty curtains shivering in the wind. Jake tried to ignore the new icy grip around his throat as he swung the door open and spilled out, looking up at the empty window. He swore he saw something, someone. Watching them.

“Jake? Everything okay?”

The side door slid open, Lindy poking her head out, trying to find her boyfriend. Her sunny face darkened to a slight frown as she saw him stare at, seemingly, nothing. In slow, steady steps she made her way over to Jake. Finally, she raised a soft hand to his arm, squeezing. Hoping to bring him back.

“Maybe we should leave?” Lindy murmured, eyes on the freckled face drawn with worry. He blinked and turned to her, reaching up his own inked hand to grip hers. Symbols of protection that would look more at place on a spirit board than the human body twisted slowly with his grasp. Fingers threaded, eyes met, and Jake leaned down. It was a simple kiss, one made from over a year of being in a cramped van, of working and laughing together. The tension in Lindy’s face immediately softened into him, folding her much smaller frame into his long torso. When they broke, the sunshine was back in her eyes.

That’s what mattered.

As much as those cold fingers grasping at him were unnerving, Jake knew they had to stay. Had t help. Had to give some peace to the many lost ones here. Of course, Steve and Lindy wouldn’t understand. So, until then… Jake’s eyes searched once again for something to comment on. An ultimate good to make his case. 

Finally.

He spied a little black cat, perched on a busted fence post at the edge of the yard. It sat still, lamplit eyes staring back at the group, possibly passing judgment to the others that resided there. Once it moved, jaws opened for a yawn, needle-like teeth revealed.

“Look! It can’t be all bad! Look at that cute cat!”

At the final word, Mandy came bounding, hopping out of the van and toward the fence, eager to meet a new friend. The big sweetheart’s fur shifted as she made her way, and Lindy followed the motion and Jake’s gaze. She paled.

There was no cat there.

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“He’s here.” The voice came from behind him. Taylor was there, leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. One eyebrow raised, as if quietly asking ‘you sure you want him here?’. He didn’t bother with a response. Icy blue eyes tracked the van as it rolled up the torn gravel driveway, obnoxiously bright and terribly loud. For one brief moment, he had the faintest desire to see the poor skulk stuck outside shoot the tires out and strand them, keep whoever was inside away from his home. Possibly even persuade them to leave. And yet.

A sigh escapes him; he’d written the letter with Taylor’s help. He’d called the boy here, if only to keep away the developers that couldn’t be persuaded by rumor and suspicion. There was use for him and he wasn’t about to toss all that aside just to keep his home empty of any still clinging to a need to breathe. Smoke whispers of a past never buried curl around his pale form, far too much to come from just the singular cigarette hanging from his lips, and yet still he stared past the clear glass and sheer curtains at the young man now in his driveway. Jake, if he was remembering correctly. A tall, lanky thing with hair the color of the leaves just starting to turn and fall. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he can’t say with certainty that it was this young man with patterns up his arms similar to the ones he had carved into his skin climbing out of the van and staring at him. Directly at him with eyes wider than the saucers he preferred his tea served upon. Well. Manners could be improved upon, not that he could see them interacting much further beyond this. He turned away from the window then, leaving the child to gape wordlessly at empty space.

“Well?” Taylor asked, still looming in the doorway. He could read the curiosity in his eyes, the questions the young man was craving. Taylor would seek the new one out soon enough if only to mess with him, test his abilities if he had any. Blue eyes narrowed at the man but Taylor was never cowed enough for his liking, the unfortunate side effect of killing the damn boy years earlier. He did, however, move out of the way to let him pass.

“I need him here.” Was all he chose to offer. Taylor knew the warning threat that the words carried, the grim promise of terrible violence by smoldering flame and sharp steel that disobedience would bring. He may have been reckless, but the former psychic was no fool. He watched a wince flick quickly across Taylors face as his own pale fingers flicked the cigarette towards the other; it hit the ground through his feet to char a small hole in the floor as smooth footsteps faded down the hall and out of sight. The scent of smoke, ash, and embers followed footsteps marked in charred wood like a faithful friend, curling and twisting its way through the home before holing up where the old man favored most. Taylor knew that was where the bastard would be, better to just keep the newcomers away from that particular room for the moment.

“Well.” Taylor muttered as he stepped forward to pull aside the sheer curtains the old man had left swaying in his wake. “Suppose he’s going to be catastrophically moody about it then.” One foot scuffed at the wood to rub away one of the still warm ashen marks the grumpy master of the house had left. Three of them, then, he thought with a small bittersweet smile.


“Good luck to you, then.” Candles flickered with the low blessing.



The house had never looked kindly on trios.



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The soft breeze moved through the trees like soft fingers through tall grass, rustling a few of the fading leaves free from their loose holds on the branches around him. It truly was one of his greater regrets that he could no longer feel that softness against his face, nor the warmth of the sun above him. He sighed from his place in the higher branches, hands tucked neatly behind his head and one leg dangling free over the side of the thick branch he was currently laid against. Nothing but him and a peace he was only ever able to grab in sparse, tiny quantities these days. It would be another few days before he was once again needed. Or at least he thought.

A foreign desire wrapped around his heart, spurred him to sit and square his shoulders against the bark of the tree trunk behind him. He was warm now in a way he hadn’t thought he could be, hands itching with pinprick burning sensations that spurred him to want to reach for his gun. But, as suddenly as it had been there, the desire was gone. He was left cold once again, sitting in the bright sun of the tree.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he grumbled, angry at the unnecessary interruption. He hated when he did that, and all the rocks in the world chucked at the man's window hadn't ever made him stop calling on him like some personal guard dog whenever strangers found their way around. If he were riled though... Sharp grey eyes cast underneath him catch on something that hadn't been there when he had climbed up earlier that morning: a van. He thinks it's a van at least. Devon had tried to explain different car shapes to him once, but there had just been too many and not enough of them had stuck in his brain. More important than the van though, were the people. Three new ones, neither of them the kids that sometimes came around to keep them company. His age maybe, at least when he had been alive.

His heavy body slips from the branch and down to the forest floor. A dozen cold noses press against him the moment bare feet touch soft earth. The dogs yip and jostle quietly for attention and he’s happy to offer hands and fingers to run through the oil black fur of the strange, large hounds that had flocked to him soon after his death. There had been others too, ghosts of dogs and animals left to die near the property or who just happened to take their last breaths close enough for their spirit to latch on. He and the black dogs were the ones that cared for them, kept their little spirits safe and away from any dangers, few as such things were in the afterlife.



Few, but not gone. Eyes flick briefly towards the barn. The door is latched shut, lights out in the windows. Quiet.



“They gonna be damn fool enough t’try, ain’t they, baby?” He huffs quietly to the dog closest to him and one of the biggest. Tinnabeans was the figuratively little lady who had woken him up after he’d, well… died, and she’s been the closest substitute he’s had for his old darllin’ Sunshine that he’d left back in the mountains. He’d given her the name after she’d stuck around long enough to warrant one. “One a’them little teams, ain’t they?”


Tinnabeans woofs quietly.


“Tha’s what I thought.”


He stands just at the edge of the forest a little past the fence against the base of the tree he had been further up just a moment ago, close enough that his keen eyes can catch the flash of soft gold that comes wobbling out of the van after them at the mention of a cat. His eyes widen as a smile slowly catches and grows. Beside him, he can feel Tinnabeans’s tail start to wag.

At least they were the kind to bring a sweet little dog like that. He just hopes that the baby will be close enough outside when the other three eventually bite it.



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“Hey, dude, uh. Not cool?”

Steve climbed out of the van after the two of them, still clutching the little device close to his chest. Jake had been known to play up the scares sometimes just for the camera, but this had been the first instance of him trying to maybe crash the car and his gear along with it. If Steve had to put an emotion to it, he was maybe a little bit peeved. He’d put a lot of time and money into those machines! They were expensive dang it!

“I have a lot of really delicate equipment in there and i would maybe, really appreciate it if you could warn me the next time you want to pull a really sudden stop like that again. I mean your van and all, but my stuff, so like, maybe don’t.” He comes out chattering, only stopping when he sees the two of them staring off towards nothing. If he remembers right, Jake said something about a cat? Thing must have run off, he’s not sure why that warrants such a weird look from Lindy.

“Yo, Lindy, you suddenly catch the ghost heebie jeebies too or do you wanna help me unload some of this equipment? I’d prefer it out and in the house before dark. If we’re even staying in the house.” He eyes the house and it’s rotted looking wooden porch suspiciously. “Is it even safe, do you think? I know they said there was a restoration and a like, caretaker, but seriously. Doesn’t look like whoever’s in charge has been doing much.”

Lindy could deal with a lot. 

She had dealt with a lot- her mother died young, her father was barely hanging by a thread at this point, she scrapped pennies together to make her way through school, finished her degree online while figure out the ins and outs of this paranormal project Jacob had entrenched himself in. Working hard, staying positive, it was all a part of the machine that kept her going at the pace she needed. And she did it gladly and with a smile, with a helping hand, and an open mind.

But this.

Jake still smiled expectantly at her, her heart pulling almost through her chest to him. His heart had stilled as he shifted, pulling his wiry weight on top of her, trying to ground her into this ancient earth. Another tight squeeze before his arm outstretched around her, holding her close, as if they bought some sort of comfort that he was, once again, seeing things. 

It started with little things he would point out- voices he heard, staring off into corners while they explored abandoned haunts for fun. And sure, things had happened that she couldn’t explain, but she was a believer that, if there were such things as ghosts, they were just… leftover energy. Leftover energy that could do inexplicable things, but manifest? Truly manifest? And only to her boyfriend?

Lindy’s belief only stretched so far.

Still, she had packed her own fair share of mumbo jumbo. Bundles of lavender and rosemary were tied tightly in her pack, along with incense and little sparkly stones. The validity of her own rituals and traditions was mainly based on some hope that the intention of putting those protections in place would be enough for the universe to just give them a pass. At least for the night. At least to see if the house was viable, was livable, was sellable.

Steve spoke, and she poked her head out from the sharp crook of the elbow, allowing an easy smile return to her lips. Steve kept her sane. Kept them all sane with his little doo-dads and equipment. They were darn lucky that his dad had graciously lent them some stuff in the early days, but now? They had their own collection of mics, cameras, you name it. The poor dude always needed help with unloading.

So.

Slowly, and with a soft affectionate noise, Lindy untangled herself. Her calves tightened as she reached up for one short kiss, a little peck to bring her man back to the present. And he, of course, obliged, with lips soft and parted. Just for her.

“I’m on it. But the house does look a little…. Suspect. I mean, the paper said everything was in order. Maybe we should check-”

“No worries, I got it, I got it.” Jake perked up, spinning from his spot, no longer looking at the supposed cat. With very little flourish, he made his ways to the porch step, allowing his foot to step for a moment, which released an ungodly creak. Deciding that was not worth the worry, he skipped the first step to the second, and then the third, until he was leaning against the thin wooden column, looking out at Lindy and Steve with that splendid smile. Which Lindy could not, in good conscience, return.

“Do you… Do you think that’s a good idea, babe? You’ve been driving for most of the day, maybe you should sit out and rest for a bit.” The offer floated through the crisp autumn air but ultimately landed on deaf ears. Jake gave a little wave, brushing off the suggestion.

“Nah, you’re right Linds, I’ll check inside. Shout out if we should just pack up and go. But it’s honestly not that bad- I mean, it’s like you guys forgot that one cabin in the mountains we did that one weekend. That place was fucked- dead animals barely had a roof, almost froze my-”

“I don’t want you to go alone” Lindy sighed, giving a glance to Steve before placing her hands on her hips. The smile that was so easily tightened once more, looking up at this disaster of a man leaning against the flimsy wood. She couldn’t help but admire how unfit he looked next to this house- sure, the chipped nail polish matched the dark exterior, but the bright red hair? The Teddy Fresh Hoodie? It was almost comical.

“I won’t go alone.” Jake snorted as if he wasn’t just about to turn around and take his first step. Instead, he raised his fingers to his lips and released a shrill whistle. Lindy didn’t even need to turn to see that Mandy’s ears had perked up, and the yellow ball of fluff had started her bounding toward the man. She also had skipped the first step, bouncing up to his side in a swift stride, a wide-open smile with the soft pant of a pace ran quick. Jake could not resist and knelt down, taking her ears in his hands and telling how good of a girl she was, yes she is! 


Again, Lindy softened to this.

Who wouldn’t? 

She gave a quick nod while Jake stood back up, took a deep breath, and made his way past the front door. There was a slight pause between the grasp of the doorknob and the entering. She found herself wondering what he was thinking, pausing herself for a moment to watch him go. And suddenly, she too had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steve?” 

Her voice broke on the name, she felt the quiver before it even left her lips. The sudden sweep of the autumnal breeze seemed even colder now as she reached for a tote from the van, pulling it out with the surprising heft for her little body.

“You...We can get a hotel. Set up and worry about it in the morning. Maybe a good night's sleep will…”

The words trailed off like the sprawling grounds around them.

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The visitors were causing quite a stir.

Noelle had known that they were coming, of course. The manor was sprawling, but rumors flew within their rank, usually starting from the top and trickling down to the newer ones. She seldom indulges, choosing to keep to herself and scrape by with whatever sanity she had left during her most lucid moments. 

It was only a few days before the new moon after all.

For now, she resolved to stay in her place, her gilded cage. The library. Noelle was one of the few granted in one of his most sacred of places- this was due to the fact that she was not one for noise or nonsense and kept herself hidden from the others, tucking herself into a corner that was near a window. With monumental effort, she was able to steal away a book, maybe turn a page, but she always ended up putting it back where she found it- it deeply saddened her that she could not lose herself in one of her novels once more. She had tried, goodness, she had tried. But after a few pages, the turning of a page was once again a futile attempt at normalcy. Sometimes, she would fade and come back to find the page turned for her. It was comforting to know that someone loved these stories as much as her and allowed her to stay in her safe haven. She hoped it was due to some sort of kinship with the affection to the shelves and shelves of books.

And, perhaps, the master of the house took an ounce of pity on her.

Noelle knew her story was tragic, although the details were always fuzzy when they reached near the new moon. She only knew that her safety was found in the library, and in the library, she would stay, visitors be damned!

.

.

.

.

And yet.

Like a moth to a flame, her bodiless being shifted and swayed, making its way to the door and to the second story landing. As she moved, she felt somewhat more… solid. There was no good way to describe the feeling bubbling up, although she had felt it once before. Many times before. When those strangely dressed boys paraded themselves through the house and brought the light back in, even for a moment. They all lauded their presence, if only that it kept the original owner the closest to content possible in his current state.

Except.

Solid.

That was the word she was stuck on. Noelle felt a phantom pain from once before, the solidness of… living. But she was not alive, the farthest you could be from alive, residing in this house that was halfway in between. And yet, she was tempted to reach out to the walls and feel one of the oil paintings to her fingertips.

Ridiculous.

But onward she floated. Past the door, past the landing, down the grand staircase, and towards the front door. Feeling more muchness as each moment passed. Feeling her thoughts go into order once again, shifting around and placing themselves.

A glint of golden yellow.

A flash of lightning.

A burst of-

Oh.

.

.

.

A hand raised, gently tracing the gouged out cave that had been left on her profile. She couldn’t necessarily feel anything, but.

It was there.

It had been there.

Left.

To rot.

Her face turned upward, focusing at the front door near the foot of the steps, spying on the man who had walked in. Strange clothes, like those boys who made through the house, yes. Bright red hair. Markings swirling up his neck, down his arms, adornments on his fingernails. Strangest of Strangers, she decided, but. Yes, he was the source for this solid-ness, this newfound something. He must have the answers, like the three before him, but he must not know the house. If he had, why had he come?

She must warn him.

And thus, with the newfound stability he provided, she found herself thrusting herself forward, bast the limbo that she had been in so long since the others had passed. It took will, goodness, it took nearly all of it, but she was able to push herself through, pressing herself through that spongey film that truly separated him from her. Separated them from the world outside this thrice-damned house.

She noticed the look on his face. The wide eyes, the pale facade, an expression twisted in wonder and fear. In retrospect, this was his first moment in the house, but the realization was all that mattered to her. That he saw who she was. What she was.

“Wh… Hello?” His voice was soft and kind, not hardened like the ones that whispered in the house. She began to worry for him, for the others she knew were outside. She and the others had experienced their own horrors, had watched the others play into the hands of the powers that be. He was going to need strength if he had any hope of surviving.

“Who.. What do you need? What would give you peace?”

Her own eye widened with this question. A query that had never been asked, never been answered. What peace could she hope for after all that she had seen- the lost souls led to the back, the others that held her here. She needed to tell him what he would be seeing, prepare him in some ways.

But.

She felt the tug, the grasp at something much more powerful than he. Just as he was a tether between their worlds, an anchor had tied itself around her ankle and began to drag her back, pulling her back through the limbo and working to plant her firmly where she once was. And, without her refuge in the library, it pulled hard and without mercy. She felt, she FELT, her face stretch with agony and horror as she was tugged and pulled through, the sudden memories flooding back. The stairs, the gunshot, the madness of, oh no no no no nonononono. Her lips moved in wordless horror, an ungodly screech escaping to his ears, caught between the land of the living and the dead.

And, as the last moment of true lucidity of horror that she would once more endure once the new moon arrived, she heard his words in response.

“JESUS! FUCK!”

His head snaps up at the scream from the house.


He knew that scream, knew from the way the dogs’ heads snapped up that they recognized it as well. That was Noelle, and days ahead of schedule as well. He can feel the cold he's so used to snap a little tighter around him, prick a little deeper into what was once soft flesh as dread flashes over him like ice water. She shouldn’t be doing that, it wasn’t time yet, something had to have happened to cause that. Grey eyes snap over to the group still unloading equipment none the wiser before he realizes; there had been three. One is missing.

"They done somethin'." the mutters darkly to himself and the dogs around him. With a growl, he stalks forward towards the remaining two. The wind around answers in kind as it whips into an ominous low howl that whistles through the surrounding trees, nothing like the soft whispers of a moment ago. His dogs follow the lead and add their voices to harmonize with the cold anger of this new unnatural wind. They move when he moves, fanning out with the soft patter of paws on dead leaves, their maws drawn back in horrifically large snarls to show each point of their strangely sharp teeth. Only Tinnabeans stays within arms reach. She trots nearby as a staunch sentinel as his hand opens to pull a spectral rifle from the air in a show of soft light and coalescing smoke. The scent of gunpowder envelopes him; it's as much of a warning as the dog’s drawn teeth are.

‘Maybe the bastard were right.’ he thinks as he cocks the rifle, eyes glaring at the two remaining breathers who seemed to just now be catching on. ‘Maybe a bullet or two would do ‘em good.’ That last fuck weren’t with em, he were doing something to his lady in the house that made her scream, an’ he aint like that at all.

His shrill whistle pierces the veil between them and the two’s heads snap back toward him, their eyes unfocused but wide with fear. He knows they see the dogs, spectral though they are, from the way they drop what they were holding and bolt for the door. They’ve always had an easier time moving between the two planes than he ever did.

“Git!” he shouts with a wave of his hand, and his dogs bolt for the two, hot on their heels, near enough almost to bite. They growl, snap, bite towards the two runnin, fur leaking smoke black as pitch and eyes red as the devil’s, fury wrapped in fire and his own black powder retribution. He shoulders his gun to line it up neatly with the back of the retreating girl’s head. Blonde, pretty blond. He’d seen the way that lanky fuck had held her, kissed her, done the things he been pining after for close to what’s probably decades. His eyes fade black and silver as his sight narrows to just one sunny yellow target.


‘Seems a fair trade,’ he thinks briefly. His finger tightens on the trigger.


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“Careful with that, stuff’s delicate.” Steve titters at Lindy as he picks up some complicated looking device from the back of the van. “I just got that, don’t want to ruin it before we even start recording for this. If Jake isn’t just playing this up as a prank, then I definitely want to try it out here.” Long fingers reach for the device in Lindy’s hands, plucking it and fiddling to eventually turn it on. It hums to life with a low whir.

“See? EMF reader! Brand new, latest on market. I messed with it a little bit,” he says as he flicks it back and forth in front of him in a quick sweeping motion. “You know this stuff always has to be messed with a little, I -” his chattering cuts off abruptly with a sudden gust of cold wind.

“Hey Linds? Weather was supposed to be nice today right? Like, delightful autumn weather, perfect for filming and, oh god thatssss… a lot of beeps. Goodness.” His eyes abruptly turn towards the machine in his hand caught mid motion and pointing towards the fence line. The thing is darn near hissing at him with the amount of high pitched beeps its emitting, all clustered together in a string of almost white noise. “It's not supposed to do that.” His voice shakes at the long, low howls that seem to curl around the noise of the wind like a pack of hunting dogs signaling prey. “I mean, ghosts aren’t real, there must be some explanation -”

He’s not ashamed to admit he jumps at the sound of a very human whistle coming from the nearby treeline. The device in his hand whines frantically.


“Okay, great, ah, I’m just gonna go. Inside. Going inside sounds fine.”


Bright, wide eyes catch sight of them then. A large smoky form, its size and shape shifting but definitely large, definitely quadrupedal, with eyes larger than they should be and teeth that look like they could tear through the metal of the van. The more he watches, the more of them pull themselves from the bushes beyond the fence and into form just past his peripheral. His heart is in his throat and hammering a jackrabbit beat even as his feet freeze him to the sparse gravel driveway of this rundown house.

“Dogs. Lindy, there’s dogs.” He manages to sputter. “House, house seems…”


The one closest to them breaks into a wild sprint, the others following as if under command.


He doesn’t wait. “House!” he shouts as he turns heel and sprints towards the rotted wood of the porch. From the soft thudding behind him, he knows Lindy is close behind. It was now that he was really thanking all those years of track, all that sprinting had been working towards running from freaking wild dogs. No one had told him there were wild dogs in these woods, he would have really appreciated the heads up! A quick bolt and his body clears the small set of stairs up to the porch with the ease of a long jumper, feet skidding to a clumsy stop in front of the front door. He’s shaky, panicked, but his fingers manage to wrap around the door handle, twist, and pull it open.

“Cmon, cmon!” He yells to Lindy, still a few steps behind from not being able to vault the steps as cleanly. She right there, right in front of the door, all he has to do is grab her arm and yank her the few extra feet to safety. The dogs claw their way up the steps behind her, yipping and scrambling, snapping horribly large, toothy maws at them and he just has to yank and pull, yank and pull…


It happens so fast.


Long fingers wrap around Lindy’s slim forearm. Their wide, terrified eyes meet for just a moment. The dogs behind finally find purchase on the rotted wood and bolt forward, wild jaws open. Lindy’s shoe catches on a loose plank underneath her and she pitches forward.


A bullet whizzes past where her head had been a moment before.


Or at least he thinks it was. He had heard the loud, unmistakable bang from further towards the tree line, heard the crack of metal on wood behind him in the house on the wall opposite, smelt the gunpowder as whatever it was tore a line just past his own ear.

His heart feels frozen as he pulls Lindy inside and slams the door shut behind him, fingers fumbling for a lock before finding and bolting it shut. They collapse in a heap then and there, lungs working double time to compensate for what they had both just been through. It takes a moment to register that Jake is standing there in the foyer. He looks pale, staring towards a set of stairs that presumably led towards the second floor. It takes him a minute to notice the both of them.


“Dogs.” Steve huffs out, eyes still wide and breathing frantic. “Dogs. Outside. Lots of dogs. Angry dogs. And wind! So much wind. We were chased by dogs and wind.”


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Behind them as Steve chatters on, the hole left in the wooden wall burns bright blue at the edges. Fire flickers over the whole of it before extinguishing as suddenly as it came. The wall is once again seamless, whole. As if it had never been damaged.

Again.

It had happened so fast.

Mandy had hopped her way next to him as he entered, and he couldn’t help but give a low whistle. Like, damn, this place was swank! A grand staircase was staring right at him, complete with ornate railings with… were those lions carved into the swirls at the ends? Overhead, a glass, albeit dusty, chandelier hung on the vaulted ceiling, and Jake counted two additional floors above him, like layers to an extra spooky cake. And while the interior matched the darkness of the outside, it didn’t mean it lacked taste. He knew that Lindy probably could identify some of the art on the wall, hanging in frames that probably cost more than three years of gas in the van. Paintings, mainly, of the classical variety. Light feet, careful not to scuff the somehow perfectly preserved wooden floor, made their way to the closest one. He found himself holding his breath, afraid to even breathe on the magnificent piece, depicting a gaggle of people surrounding a tomb where there was a man emerging. Jake couldn’t help but admire the brilliant golden yellow sun and the detailed expressions of the subject. 

The softest ‘boof’ made him realize that Mandy was not enjoying the fine art with him, no, she was standing, staring, pointing to something on the stairs. And when Jake followed her gaze, he saw something… strange.

But not unfamiliar.

A wisp.

A spirit.

One that was trying to make contact- which was odd. Again, he felt fingers digging into him, felt the moment he got on property. But, for the most part, ghosts didn’t like to just be… seen. Without causing a ruckus, at least. But this little spirit, this little wispy. Well, he was curious. Jake knew that, among knowing of the things that were supposedly unknowable, he was a bridge between their plane and his own. With enough concentration, he could pull things through the veil and put things back. It was useless as a party trick but in his current line of work? 

Well.

Something tingled in the back of his spine and fizzled and popped until it was in his head, behind his eyes, and he blinked. All the pieces connected and, finally, he could see what was truly there. 

A woman.

A woman, wispy in build and matter, but standing at the top step. A long face, a long nose, a thin mouth. Her hair was piled on her head in soft-looking puffs and twists, while energy coiled in smoke off of it and into the air. She had some sort of dress on, one that pulled her waist in with a high colored shirt, and a dark and large, bell-shaped skirt. A pendant was fastened into her color, with what looked like the head of a doe surrounded by some intricate design. Besides the strangeness of the structure, the clothing was quite plain. No frills, no patterns, no color besides the phantasmic blue and white. She looked quite ordinary for a period ghost.

Except for the eye.

Or lack of one. On the left side of her face was a gaping black hole where her eye should have been. It was hollow, and, as far as he could see, did not reveal a skull. Just… a hole. Her other eye was wide with fright, although it was already exceptionally round and wide without the exaggeration.

“Wh… Hello?”

She blinked, which was a bit eerie with only one eye. Jake watched her carefully, gauging what kind of specter he was meeting. She didn’t seem particularly violent, but also not happy to see him. She didn’t seem upset with him, just. Shocked. Fearful. Her lips twitched for a moment as if she had a thought, but quickly stopped

“Who.. What do you need? What would give you peace?”

Now her hands twitched, and Jake could see her actually open her mouth. He was careful to offer a slight smile, an offer of friendship, and relief. And, for a moment, he believed that she would return it.

Until.

The woman’s face twisted in a way that someone who was once human can only do. Her mouth was like a whirlpool as it gapped and dropped and turned, letting out an ungodly screech that pierced his ears. A shrill ring followed as the one-eyed woman screeched, and was somehow, pulled back behind the veil. Jake had never seen anything like it, it was like there was a vacuum sucking her back into obscurity, back into hiding. The ringing didn’t subside, as he clutched his head and yelled.

“JESUS FUCK!”

He didn’t hear the commotion outside, didn’t feel the rush of footsteps. Didn't hear the sudden pick up of wind and howling dogs, the frantic yelps of his friends. He stood there, suddenly deaf, trying to will the spirit back, to tether her back, but. Alas. She was gone. It wasn’t until he felt Mandy shift next to him that he realized something was VERY WRONG.

The sunshine girl had turned to the door, and Jake could hear her barking faintly. The ringing began to subside as he turned and saw Lindy and Steve, sitting against the door, gasping for air. 

Mandy shuffled over, nudging Lindy with her snout before place soft kisses on her arm, while an arm snakes up and gives gentle scritches behind soft ears. Lindy sucked in air both frantically and frenetically. Jake watched as her belly rose and fell with each breath, gulping down oxygen like it was her last. Wide Blue eyes finally focused on Jake and were swimming with confusion and fear. His own heart began to pick up as he felt that final shift of energy- this wasn’t from the one-eyed victorian lady. They hadn’t seen her, they couldn’t see her. This was something else.

Someone else.

It took all of half a second for Jake to react. He moved quickly. Stepping and sliding to meet them, crouching down to sit with them against the door. He scooched between them, grasping a hand from both Steve and Lindy, willing strength into them, imparting stability and tethering them to him. He wished that his practice was effective on, you know, living people. But the squeeze was enough to calm the lady down enough for her breath to slow, even if it was only bt a little bit. Jake took an extra moment just to look at her, truly, like he did so often, with eyes only for her. The warmth she shared in every moment that they had with one another- the late-night drives n an attempt to woo her, the hikes to grand beauties she had so graciously shared with him, the nervousness of their first kiss and the comfort of those after it. How he had, somehow, convinced her to share her life with him. And yet, despite the token of warm fuzz, he hoped this would grace them, one of those grasping fingers curled and clutched at his heart as she looked at him so full of fear.

Steve was speaking. Hattering away about wind and dogs and being chased by wind and dogs. Strange Dogs. Feral Dogs. Again, the energy shifted, and Jake had a sickening feeling that those dogs were something far beyond their understanding. Still holding their hands, he twisted his body to peer out the window on the side of the door, pulling his face between the dark, dusty curtain that spilled only a sliver of light. Jake tried to grab his focus back, to look beyond what the other two might see.

Smoke.


Eyes.

Racing back to the trees, a shadow amongst the kaleidoscope of autumnal foliage. They moved as a pack, almost as one, but the many legs truly separated them into the fierce cohort they were/ Howls faded into the wind as they began to separate and weave through the trees, distance obscuring them now more than their billowing black. He saw, what he liked to call at least, spectral smoke swell in the blowing wind, swishing and swaying higher and higher until it eventually dissipated into the grey sky. The wind slowed too now that the hounds were away and the three of them were closed into the house. There had to be someone behind the retreating dogs and the wind and the look of pure terror on his girlfriend's face and the frantic anxiety gripping his best friend so tightly. These beasts answered to someone, they had a master, a herald, and if he followed them into the woods.

Yes.

Yet another figure in the distance, more… There than the Victorian lady. Jake couldn’t exactly make out detail, but he saw the broad frame and the same wispy outline of this lost soul as his essence burned through the veil. Jake had seen this type of spirit a handful of times before. One who had a purpose, who had a grasp on the elemental, could call on feral beasts, who was strong enough to burst through his immortal coil without a tether, without someone like Jake. This soul wanted to be seen, wanted to send a message that was quite clear. Jake was sure now about two things:

One, this was a vengeful spirit.

Two, the chaos had only started when Jake was in the house. After the ghost lady screeched.

He turned back to Steve and Lindy, who seemed to have finally caught their lost breath. He split his face with a forced smile and, once again, squeezed their hands so tight. He slid back into his comfortable slot between them, holding them firm and attempts to pull them near.

“Wish that caretaker dude would have warned us about dogs. Like, feel like that should have been on the one-sheet! We should call him on that. And while I can’t really do much about the wind, it looks like it’s died down-”

“Jake, I heard a gunshot.”

Lindy’s voice was hush, her lips barely moving from the half gape she still sported, teeth chattering out the words. Mandy had placed her dense yellow head on Lindy’s lap as the woman’s hand weaved in and out of the fur, trying to distract her mind. He noticed that her grip had not faded, but he had just gone numb from her tight hold. 


Shit.

“A gunshot? Are you sure? Not saying I don’t believe you, babe, but. Like, there was a lot of chaos. You sure it wasn’t just a tree falling or something? Maybe a branch cracking in the storm?”

Lindy’s mouth finally closed as her lips pursed and eyebrows furrow in thought, but Jake already knew the answer. It was a vengeful spook after all, of course he had taken a shot. Jake only hoped that the soul was rational enough to resolve this without force. He REALLY hoped that this was some big misunderstanding and that the grounds weren’t guarded by some dead trigger-happy hillbilly.

“Well. We should probably ask about that as well to the dude taking care of the place. Who knows, it might just be a hunter who ventured a little too close to property- it would be easy to do. We’re kinda by the mouth of the woods, we got lots of trees. Would explain the dogs too…”

He really hoped that thing about people believing what they wanted to believe to be true right now. Because the truth would FOR SURE lead to an early exit.

Jake carefully brought Lindy’s hand to his lips and brushed them carefully against white knuckles. It was yet another tender moment that he blessed all for and hoped to bring her peace. Once his hand fell, he turned to Steve.

“I think that guy, the caretaker guy, works in an auto shop in town. We gotta get the van checked out anyways, and you mentioned talking to him about wiring and wifi and all that tech stuff. Maybe you stop by there? I need to stop for supplies anyways, I saw a, uh, metaphysical store on the main road. We can pick up dinner, figure out what we want to do, figure out what others know…”

“I’ll check out the library, there has to be someone there as a town historian…” Lindy murmured, looking forward at the ominous staircase “But, just so we are all clear, maybe we come back in the morning. Find a hotel. Clear our heads.”

Jake nodded, although that pit in his stomach came back. He could tell that there was a LOT of unfinished business in this house, and the sooner he could start, the better. Things like this would fester, even overnight.

But.

He also needed to focus on the living people that were clearly freaking the fuck out. 

“Yeah… yeah, let’s talk about that over dinner. I’m… I’m gonna check out something before we go. Won’t be far, I’ll stay in eye sight, You guys leave whatever you want in the house, put anything back in the van. Get Mandy packed up.”

He had something he had to do.

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Jake felt the spongy dirt beneath his knees, slightly damp from some earlier rain. He really hoped his hunch was right. Best case scenario, this ended with some peace for a bit. Worst, he better hope he could book it back to the van before another shot made it into his brains. His fingers dug in the dirt, recreating symbols that he had etched into his skin years prior. Some combinations of glyph, rune, and alchemical symbology placed in some sort of precious order that, at some time, had significant meaning.

It still did.

In the center of the concentric circles, Jake placed a simple offering. Again, this was before he had a chance to really get to know anything about this ghost besides a. Probably has a gun and b. Has a shit ton of dogs. So, he had to improvise.

“Oh Spirit. Oh Lost Soul. May it be known that I come humbly to this place to seek out your desire and find you peace amidst the afterlife. Please accept this offering as a token of my gratitude as we procure a place.”

At that, Jake stepped away from the ritual, staring at the six-pack of Angry Orchard, unopened Slim Jim and peanut butter filled rubber Kong in the middle of it all. He hoped the dogs tore into the toy instead of his girlfriend and best bud, and hoped that the drink and a meat-adjacent snack would satiate the spirit to less murdery tendencies. 

Jake placed his hand's palm out toward his sigils, and the offering gave a soft, blue glow. With a grunt, his fingers flexed, stretching to their limit as the offering’s glow brightened, the solidity fading into something more translucent, far more ghostly. With a final push, there was a faint popping noise, and Jake recoiled as if he had touched something very hot, before shaking off his hands and inspecting his work. The offering stayed on the other side, thankfully, and Jake gave a relieved smile.

“Alright, okay. Gonna talk to you for a moment, Mr. Spirit. Here is the deal- I got the deed to the place in the mail, don’t have a clue what's going on, but, between you and me. Seems like there are quite a few of you here stuck and I want to help. Really. But, for that to happen, I got to be on the same page. We’re gonna head out, get some grub, get some cleansing materials to get some of the bad vibes. Maybe some info. If I come back and see this stuff gone, I am gonna assume that means that you’re willing to work with me a bit on this. Things seem topsy turvy to say the least- I went in, saw this Lady with one eye. She looked scared. Before she could get a word out, someone yanked her back out of sight.”

Jake leaned against a nearby tree, looking up in the nearby branches, looking for evidence of someone listening. He was sure he could feel… someone. But they weren’t looking to be seen right now. Which was fine, cool, whatever the ghostie wanted right now as long as it didn’t involve guns or dogs. Or wind.

“Anyways, the point is that I’m here for all of you. You get that little moment as a freebie, no charge, no banishment chants or anything. ‘Cause I get it, I would be freaked too by new people. So, like, feel your feelings. I’ll be back soon, and we can chat about it. 
Or not. You’re your own person.”

And with that, Jake spun on his heel, heading back to the van, his friends, and, hopefully, some answers.

“Oh Spirit. Oh Lost Soul. May it be known that I come humbly to this place to seek out your desire and find you peace amidst the afterlife. Please accept this offering as a token of my gratitude as we procure a place.”

The chant throws him off enough that he doesn’t immediately shoot the gangly fuck that comes traipsing through his trees towards the one he’s currently under. Well, the chant and the fact that shooting anything takes the wind out of him faster than Agnes used to when she tackled him as kids. As it is, he remains tucked in the branches of his favorite ancient oak about halfway up while the dogs linger nearby, their keen eyes watching the man drawing patterns in the dirt. Waiting for a signal from him as to whether or not this one is worth the effort of a chase. He’s not even sure yet, he thinks as he watches the man place some bottles, something wrapped in plastic, and a strangely shaped…. something into the circle that the dogs were eyeing mighty fierce.

He’s gathering himself, pulling stores of energy from the absolute bottom of the barrel for another possible shot when he hears that same voice below him again, talking of deeds and spirits and leaving for a bit and then… Noelle. He perks at the mention of her, glad to know that she’s at least not hurt by this walking tree limb but more concerned that something had dragged her back that didn’t seem to be that piece of horse shit husband that lingered round. He lets go of his gun, feels the cool spectral metal of the barrel and stock whisper from this plane and back into the ether around him. Maybe… he watches the offerings the kid left behind flicker below him as that same leggy bastard books it back towards his companions already stuffed in that too bright car. They were coming back, Jake had said. Coming back to help. He snorts.


Sure. Help. Untangle this centuries old mess just like that. There had been another just like him years back that had come in with a group the same size and spoken with the same intentions. Tobi sees him in the window now from time to time.


But still, he thinks as he drops once more onto the soft forest floor. Calloused hands reach from one of the bottles, eyes widening in a touch of surprise when he finds he can grab it. The label’s unfamiliar, but one twist of the lid has him reeling. That’s cider, plain and simple. Nothing near to what his parents had brewed way back when, but it was cider nonetheless and he was able to hold it, tip the bottle back and drain it in several large gulps. Well, holy shit then.

His dogs are nosing at the strange red shape. With the same amount of disbelief, he hefts the unfamiliar scented thing and hucks it at Tinnabeans who catches it in her sharp jaws and settles down to chew almost immediately. Her tongue comes out to lick at nothing in the air after about a minute of working the strange paste out of a hole in the middle, and he has to laugh at the sight. Poor thing looks so confused.

‘Fine,’ he settles on. ‘Okay.’ He tucks the last little plastic covered offering into the six pack to take with him up into the trees, turning and pausing just briefly to look back at the little circle still left smudged in the dirt. If he could bring all this then maybe…. The six pack is set on some fallen leaves and exchanged for a thin stick. With careful swipes and that last little bit of energy he had pooled up for another shot, he scratches two words in messy scrawl  into the dirt next to the symbols left earlier. It’s as much of an olive branch as the six pack he carries up with him into the fall turned leaves of the trees.


‘T O B I A S’


‘W H I S K E Y’



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“Hello?” Steve shouted as he walked around the perimeter of the old garage Jake had left him in front of. Obviously, this was the place, evidenced by the car up on a jack in the middle of the open garage, and yet there didn’t seem to be much of a, well. People presence. Music filtered through old speakers tucked away in the rafters of the building and vaguely, Steve could spy something that looked like a door that might possibly lead to an office. Maybe. He was just guessing here.

“I’m looking for a Vernon?” He tried again. The rubber of his sneakers squeaks as he moves through the  space cluttered with tools and stained in grease and oil. It’s honestly very much his kind of place. “Vernon Brooks? Caretaker for the old, uh, spooky house?”

“It’s Newton.” came a voice from behind that startles Steve into a soft yelp. Turning, he can see a rather gruff looking man, short in stature but broad in the shoulders and strangely wirey, sporting a shadow of a beard that looked grown more out of forgetfulness than any conscious effort. He had seen guys like that before; all of them tended to be deceptively strong and this one right now was eyeing him like he might want to break Steve in half just a little bit. A shop jumpsuit covered most of him, but was currently zipped low enough that a hint of a white tank top could be seen peeking through. “Newt for short. Don’t ever call me Mr. Brooks.”


“I… wasn’t?”


“Good. What do you want.” It was phrased more as a command than anything else. Combined with the dead eyed stare above dark bags that rivalled his own, Steve was thrown long enough for the man watching him to have to repeat himself.

“Uh right! Well, we’re staying in it. The house. And I wanted to talk to you about some things like…” long fingers fiddle through the messenger bag at his side before pulling out a small lined notebook. “Wifi mostly. Jake was real insistent on that bit. But beyond that, I have a few things that I wanted to address, if you’ve got maybe a minute. Or two. Possibly a lunch break.”

Newt makes a motion with his hand and Steve passes the little notebook to him. Short, grease stained fingers flip the pages, stopping only to flip open a pair of utilitarian reading glasses that had been tucked into a front pocket of the jumpsuit. Steve can feel his cheeks flush just a little bit.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I write kinda small and messy, so…”


“It’s fine.” Newt huffs and ignores him to continue reading, speaking again after a long moment. “I do too. Well, it’s doable.” He hands the pad back to Steve who tucks it once again into his messenger bag. “You check with the ghosts, see if they approve?”

“I, what?”

“They’re picky fucks.” is the only explanation he gets. The man must be joking with him, has to be. The whole town is in on the spooky tourism thing, playing it up for him, the dumb tourist. That has to be it.

“Right. Well, I uh, I don’t, I haven’t yet… That’s more Jake’s job, anyway.” he manages and is not eased by the way Newts head nods in agreement. He decides to go for more stable ground. “If you’ve got maybe a minute, we could talk about schedules and price?”

Newt looks him up and down, eyes shadowed by the mess of hair that half looks like he’s cut it himself with some garage instrument. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take lunch. There’s a coffee place right around the corner, I need… something. Just give me a sec.” Heavy thudding footsteps carry him through the door Steve had spotted earlier and Jesus, how hadn’t he noticed the man the first time? Those had to be steel toed, genuine leather, looked like they could keep the man upright in a hurricane.

He comes out a moment later with the jumpsuit off, tank top now covered by a beat up old flannel that looked like it had been burned in places and jeans that seemed old enough to legally vote. Newt slaps a button on a support beam and the shop’s rickety garage door shudders closed, shutting the shop off from the outside. “C’mon. It’s good, it’s the only shop in town that makes coffee how I like it.” He says in that strange  accent that’s only a touch south of Canadian.


Steve thinks back to the dark circles and his own late nights. “Paper cup of espresso?”


Newt nods sagely. “Paper cup of espresso.”


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The local library was a quaint thing. They had managed to tuck an immense amount of books in a historical home that looks no different than the others all tucked in a line down the street. The only thing differentiating it is a small sign out front with the town’s name and ‘library’ in a cute font flanked by colorful flower beds. It had been his chosen home for years now, ever since he had to stop in town years ago because of a serendipitous flat tire. The place was steeped in history, more specifically, the history of the occult and the arcane. It was an almost curious phenomenon, one that the average person passing through might not expect, but here he was. An average person.

Pharmacy work was plenty exciting on its own, granted. It wasn’t as though he were planning to change professions all because of a morbid fascination of the occult, but… volunteering on the weekends to help sort books wasn’t out of the question. It had gained him friends in the beginning. The librarians had been more than happy to foster that excitement over their town's history, never shying away from the stranger aspects like the rumors, the murders, the occult house. He’d heard enough over the years and that, combined with his firm belief in the beyond, had cemented his decision to stay well enough away.


Besides. There were other stories to occupy himself with.


He’s checking one out now as he reaches the end of his day shift sorting books, some large biography of a prominent early American spiritualist that had supposedly met his end in the town, when in walks a girl he’s never seen before. He’s become familiar enough with most people that pass through here through his time both searching for books and sorting them away. This girl rings absolutely no bells in his mind. That, and she looks horribly out of depth and a little lost.

Mind made up, he finishes his business at the checkout counter and tucks his books away in an old backpack that he slings over one shoulder before walking over to the poor girl.


“Excuse me, miss? Is there anything I could help you with?


Eyes just a little wide turn towards him. Dark ebony skin, with long dark dreads pulled back halfway with some poor hair tie he had fished out of his bag, light purple t-shirt covered by a darker geometric patterned purple cardigan; it was one of his favorites when the weather turned cold for the soft faux fur lining inside. One hand extends in greeting as the other helps shoulder his heavy bag more comfortably.

“Shoris Nachtigall, should have led with that.” He smiles as soft as the accent that hadn’t managed to leave him despite his many years away from his homeland. “Local pharmacist and occasional librarian.”


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The shop that the van finally parks in front of looks like something from a fantasy novel. Vines cover the side and partial front of the entire brick shop. Pots of strange flowers are arranged outside in seemingly no pattern while an assortment of wind chimes and hanging plants swing delicately in the soft breeze under the awning. There’s little to no foot traffic out front this late in the evening, but the sandwich board sign outfront still dutifully informs him that ‘all crystals are 20% off!’ and ‘seance packages on sale this week only!’. There’s little drawings all up and down the thing: colorful crystals done up in rainbow colors and some stick figure seance scene with a little ghost above it scribbled in white chalk.  Out front, goods are arranged in little stacks and displays behind a window with big painted letters proudly displaying the name of the shop. It feels a little novel, a little touristy, but it's strangely the only shop of its kind in this entire town.

Kazimir’s Cabinet of Curiosities

And smaller below that:

Goods and Services to Satisfy Every Occult and Arcane Need.

The door inside had been painted a bright teal at one time, but age has stripped some of the paint from the wood leaving chipped strips of it exposed. It would matter more though if the whole of it hadn’t been tacked over with all sorts of flyers advertising various classes and services, as well as some neighborhood events like the farmer’s market or fall festival later that month. When opened, a soft chime sounds through the shop space as light and colors flicker from the fading sunlight filtering through the warm stained glass set into the top of it.

The inside is… well an organized mess. Half the main room seems taken up with rows and rows of bookshelves, each touting their respective contents from sharpied signs stuck to the front of each row. Crystal healing, meditation, the metaphysical, the spiritual, all of them had a row that seemed to stretch further and further back. Open doorways along the walls led to various other rooms, each packed with more books and merchandise hanging from walls or displayed out in little baskets. One side room had a large table of crystals in the middle; another, whole racks of sage and various smudges and incense. Towards the back of the store, one door led into a breezy, open room that seemed suspiciously similar to some of the yoga studios Lindy used to teach in. There were stairs tucked into various corners that were either roped off or so covered with merchandise that they were unpassable.

All of it empty of customers late in the day.

But the store wasn’t completely empty. No, behind the raised register in the main room, one tired eyed, curly haired teenager sits and stacks a tiny basket of crystals in neat vertical rows on top of the glass countertop. He’s staring at them with what looks like exactly half a fuck, give or take, and doesn’t straighten when Jake walks through the chiming door.

“Welcome to Kazimir’s Cabinet of Curiosities.” the teenager calls, sounding about as interested in Jake as he would be if no one had walked in at all. He’s a little on the thicker side with skin too dark to be a tan, all slumped in his chair and wearing what looks like a very well made large homemade sweater in various floral patterns. His hair is held back from his face with a tie dyed bandanna. One hand raises to set another crystal on top of the already pretty precarious pile, but it's too much for the poor structure to handle. The crystals crash to the counter, bouncing off the glass and metal of the register. “Ah, shit.”

“Augustine. Language.” Comes another voice down one of the aisles of books. It doesn’t sound mad, more like the admonishment was a knee jerk reaction to something that had already happened a hundred times before. It was a gentle voice, but gentle in the way that could hold your focus and, at one time, keep an audience enraptured through sheer power of confident sincerity.

“Sorry pops. Customer, if you want it.” It was the first time the kid had looked in his direction. Tawny eyes pinned him like one might stick a particularly interesting bug to a corkboard before widening fractionally. “No way.”

“Of course I do, they’re a customer, Auggie.” The other man huffed before Jake had the time to make anything out of the kid’s last statement. He appeared then from one of the rows closest to the register and yup, that had to be the kid’s dad or something because the resemblance was uncanny. He was an older man on the shorter side, his curly hair left to fall where it wanted to. Those same tawny eyes, only this pair was hidden behind a set of wire framed glasses that had a delicately beaded chain attached that trailed down and behind his neck.. A similar sweater, though now looking at it, the kid’s was probably stolen from this man instead of being his own. Definitely handmade though. Looking down briefly, he definitely caught the sight of a pair of Birkenstocks, the feet stuffed in them covered by colorful knitted socks. In his hands was a small stack of books and past that, Jake could have sworn he had seen a dark, tattooed script wrapped around his upper forearm and past the cuff of the sweater.

“Oh, you’re a new face.” The man had said as he dropped the books he had been holding on Auggie’s counter. “Just passing through or new resident? I’m Lyov, by the way, and this is my son, Auggie.” He motions towards the sullen kid still giving him one hell of a look. “The Kazimirs of Kazimir’s cabinet of curiosities. Is there anything I can help you with? We have a sale on crystals today, 20 percent off, in case you hadn’t seen the sign.”

Jake clocked the crystal shop as soon as they entered the sleepy town. He was honestly surprised there weren’t more like it- it wasn’t like the stories of the town were all hush-hush. There were dedicated haunt fans who had dug up stuff about the place, knew it was at least touristy enough to attract people around Halloween. Hell, the things he’s already seen in that house after arriving and being there for less than a half-hour? Made him wonder why the rest of the town hadn’t capitalized it in all things witchy. This place could be a whole new Salem or Sleepy Hollow!

But as soon as he walked into the brick store, he decided that it was his new favorite. See, Jake was a frequent visitor of such shops- whether it was the shiny rocks or a new tarot deck, he was always looking for something of the sort. He had been to witch shops from Salem to Portland, seen all types of occult findings, and miner town rocks shops. But as soon as he stepped through the door, he knew this would be his favorite home store. Filled to the brim with all sorts of goodies, the air was thick with patchouli and incense, clouding his mind with pleasant thoughts and memories of visiting such stores before. The energy was phenomena; an antithesis of the house. Just homey and cozy and exactly what he needed. It was as if a part of him had finally clicked into his place, found something that made him feel a little more whole.

As he took a sniff of that scented air, the kid at the register “welcomed” him, but Jake knew that was lost. They were closing in thirty, which was why he rushed over as quickly as possible to make a couple of purchases. He glanced over at the boy in question, who was currently cleaning up a crystal tower that just toppled. The kid was like a teapot- short and stout. But it fit him, just as he fit into the shop. A little off-kilter, a little eclectic. Jake put a note to ask him where he got the sweater when he would go to cash out, he knew Steve would be eternally grateful if he found such fluff.

Jake turned back to the little shop, about to make a beeline to the crystal room, but stopped when an older man entered into sight. He had to be the kid’s dad, they were identical. Words confirm it, and Jake just felt the dad energy roll off the man in a wave, right down the squeak of his Birkenstocks as he sidestepped to the register to drop off the small stack of books he was carrying. Another sweater, Jake noted again, with some pretty impressive ink on his arms. If it was local, he was gonna have to ask where. He might get another two or three before he left town.

Speaking of.

“A little in between, Mr. Kazimir. Just arrived, got a house in the mail. The big-ass spooker on the hill on the edge of town. It’s, uh, a mystery to who sent the deed but, you know. A haunted manor on a big plot of land isn’t too bad if you stock up. S’why I stopped here, actually… On Sale crystals you say?”


Jake moves to the table, the sparkly rocks glinting into his eyes- he was always a runes type of guy, but Lindy. Gosh, she loved the things. And they were effective when charged- who knows, he might be able to make some guesses on what would draw out the spooks or keep them away. Long, spindly fingers rove and hover, occasionally picking up a cluster or geode to inspect, before putting it back down.

“Gonna need a FAT-ASS clear quartz cluster, if you got it. The bigger the better, need it for some cleansing. Also, if you got phantom quartz? Or a couple?  Would be a HUGE help, especially if you have it on a pendant. If not, I’ll get a chord and figure it out. Let’s see….. Amethyst. Always a good chance that’ll work in keeping things good and clear and, well you know. Not Funky. And I’ll take anything- geode, cluster, tumbled. Also, obsidian. Got a hunch on that one, if you got a chunk of that, would love it. Selenite, of course, for some charging, would like that in a sheet instead of a pillar, if you have it of course... Oh, and what the hell, you got any labradorite? Might need something to have a little transformation OOMF, ya know? That house is more backed up than my dad after a steak dinner, if you catch my drift.”

Jake’s hand kept moving until it finally settled on a spotted rock- blue and white, the size of a half-dollar. It wasn’t shiny like the others but… wow, if it did not just sing to him just then. It was a palm stone, smooth and flat, cool to the touch, he passed it from hand to hand before showing it off to the man “And this piece of sodalite… if that is alright.”

His eyes passed to the smudging sticks, and he breezed over, not noticing the glance that the kid at the register gave him. He inspected the bundles, bring them to his nose to smell, and then working through them once more. He lingered on the rosemary, but he finally settled on the bundle of mint.

“Wow, you guys really got everything… And classes too?” Jake craned his neck to look at the yoga studio- she would be pleased to hear about that. Maybe they had classes or needed a guest teacher or something. The girl knew how to do all that bendy-shit. And he loved her even more for it. It would probably perk her up a tiny bit too. Give her something in town to look forward to.

“Name’s Jacob, by the way. Jake McKinley. It’s really nice to meet both of you!” He raised a tattooed hand to shake, the symbols and runes on his palms and knuckles rippling with the movement.

“I’ll try to make this fast, don’t want to keep you two waiting, but… something tells me you know about the house.”

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“The house on the hill.”

Lindy had relaxed a bit as she began to speak with Shoris. He had kind eyes and a kinder voice, one that settled her nerves that had been running ragged since those dogs had ripped through the yard. Maybe it was the accent, she mused. It was quiet interesting to listen to, and how a Frenchman ended up here? That was a story she was interested in. Once she had introduced herself and he saw her nerves, he had moved them to a table to sit and talk. The ease started coming back, but the unnerved feeling in her stomach refused to budge.

“It’s a bit of a story how we got there, gonna have to be honest. My boyfriend, he does this podcast/youtube thing. Checks out haunted houses and places around the country. He likes it, we have fun with it, Steve and I. Steve's the tech guy, also Jakes best friend. The three of us have been working on it for some time now, pretty much lived in our van. And one day, a little less than a month ago, we received this… well, deed. To the house. And we researched it a bit, Jake deemed it a good place for an episode and we packed up. But-”

Her voice breaks, and she looks at Shoris for the words, her blue eyes searching for meaning in all of this. What she really wanted right now was to find a quiet place to meditate and manifest some serenity for all of them. And also, the man didn’t need to know her life story, her worries about her boyfriend cracking under everything. How he heard things, how he sees things. How it seemed to get worse as each day passed. 

No, instead, Lindy tightens her ponytail, her pale blue scrunchie stretching as her golden hair perked up onto her scalp. She gave Shoris a soft smile, pulling out a little moleskin notebook and pen. When she opened it, she could feel Shoris spy at the immaculate pages of the dotted paper. Month marker pages with the cutest and perfect little pictures, cute doodles of potted plants with affirmations, even a large sun with positive quotes on each ray. She opened to a blank page, her impeccable penmanship reading ‘TOWN HISTORY’ before she looked back up at Shoris.

“I know you said that you are an occasional librarian. But, I am a little curious about the town history. I’ve read… stories. But I figured there might be some details you could help me with…. Particularly about the house.”

She tapped her pen twice before tilting her head and offering a smile. “It seems much older than the town around it.”

Lyov watches this newcomer as he explains what he’s doing in town. A new arrival, but one that intended to stay, at least for a short while if it were true that he was now in possession of the large house that lingered on the outside of town. Newt had been claiming that someone had new possession of the deed to the old home, just as it was known that there were some development companies undeterred by the rumor that had been eyeing the property, historical or not. One of the more ridiculous proposals was a haunted house. ‘Tactless,’ he thinks. Strange how the transfer of the deed had come about; he had always heard it had been lost.

“Ah, yes the crystals are indeed 20% off. We need to move some stock, make room for a shipment coming in.” He says in answer to the boy’s question. It’s a strange surprise when the tall stranger looks as though he’s just been awarded a winning lottery ticket and begins to move towards their supply listing off… well… a shit ton. An absolute shit ton of crystals. Tawney eyes catch the similar set behind the counter, but Augustine just rolls his eyes, shrugs, and hands him an empty cardboard box.


“I’ll close up. Go help Sabrina over there.”

He can’t help but snort. “‘Sabrina’s keep us in business. Save the till until we get back. With any luck,” he hefts the box “this will be full.”

“I’ll bet you dishes tonight you can’t get him in a class.”

“Auggie, please. If I can’t get him in at least one séance session, I’ll let you keep that figurine we got last week you keep hiding in the shelves.”

“The unreasonably hot angel statue?” At Lyov’s sigh and nod, he grins. “Deal. Go get ‘em, pops.”


“Gonna need a FAT-ASS clear quartz cluster-“ comes from the side of the store they keep the crystals on, and Lyov heads towards the direction of the voice to the sound of Auggies giggles and his own long suffering sighs. The kid is there, fingers flitting over their crystal displays and talking to the air. He’s not even sure if the kid knew if he had followed or not. Certainly hadn’t deterred his chatter. Clear quartz, phantom quartz, amethyst, obsidian, selenite – in a sheet-, labradorite, and finally a little sodalite that he seemed drawn to. He packed each away into the box he carried as carefully as he could, snapping Auggie towards him with newspaper to pack with and adding up the total in his head. All that they were missing was the ‘Fat ass’ clear quartz cluster, but he had one in mind that they kept back behind the counter that might be ‘thicc’ enough. As Auggie would say.
The stranger now seems caught up at their wall of smudge sticks and looks more than happy shoving the different bundles up his nose. Lyov watches him with a detached sort of amusement. House on the hill, all these crystals, smudge sticks; appears the kid was really gearing up for some sort of ghost investigation. They had had more than few of those roll through in, tis the season and all that. Usually they just stocked up to burn some bundles and ham it up for the cameras and their video audience before leaving town. He’s got to applaud the kid for mixing it up by staying a bit.


“Wow you guys really got everything… and classes too?”


“Oh, yes.” Lyov hums as he watches Jake toss his little bundle into the box. “Mindfulness, meditation, yoga, the like. Augustine leads seances every Tuesday and Thursday if you’re interested, I can get you a list of what we offer. We do have a new client discount if you purchase a bundle of either the classes or the seances together.”

“Séance slots are filling up, gotta get in fast.” Auggie drawls from behind the counter towards the two of them. Finished with sweeping, facing, and what restock they hadn’t gotten don earlier, he eyes the two of them with his chin in his hand. Lyov walks the box of product towards the counter and sets it gently there before motioning for Auggie to grab him the notepad and pen set off to the side. Numbers and short, abbreviated product descriptions are jotted down before the boy finally introduces himself. Jake, Jacob McKinley. He pauses in his writing to extend a hand back. This close, the words peeking from his forearm are in much clearer focus, though the tattoo is clearly much older than any of Jake’s. He really should get it touched up one of these days. ‘Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedne-‘ is all that’s visible before disappearing behind the cuff sleeve. It’s served him well in the past even if he knows it by rote.

“…something tells me you know about the house.”

“What, you don’t?” Auggie takes over. Lyov lets him, continues with his numbers. “Thought you were the one living in it. Heard it’s haunted, at least.” He glances down toward the box of crystals and smudge. Lyov excuses himself to go find the large clear crystal Jake had wanted before Auggie leans in across the table. “Super spooky ghosts. I dunno if you could handle it, might need a professional touch. We do offer house cleansings for a hundred twenty, hundred with the new client discount.”
The tone is bored, almost dismissive, but the look in those tawny eyes could almost be a taunt. Like this curly haired, floral sweater wearing teenager is goading Jake into something.

“You should consider it, especially if you’re staying long term.”


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“Oh, that’s because it is.” Shoris laughs lightly as he leans back in his chair. “The original town that used to be here, the one that the house was originally a part of, was all but abandoned before this second one was founded on top. The only original structure that survived was that house up there.” He nods his head in what might be the direction. “The legend is that the original villagers all left in fear of the house, of what had happened there. What had happened though…” His eyes close as he shrugs. “A mystery. All conjecture. There’s no real first-hand evidence that far back to really provide the full picture.”

He glances down towards her admittedly very cute notebook where she’s scribbling all this down. “We only know who the house belonged to by the books and journals that survived inside. The library insisted on keeping them preserved here, though they’re a pain to work with, let me tell you.” A sigh escapes him, a sigh borne of hours of frustrating, patience testing work. “They’re extremely prone to fire, for some strange reason. The lightest change in temperature and poof! There’s a burn mark on your hundred-year-old text. Picky books.”

“I don’t know if there were some accident where oil was spilled on them or something. It’s just strange. But I’m rambling. If you like, I could point you towards some books that I found useful when I moved here some years ago?”

Lindy’s hand moved remarkably fast, but neat, across her small notebook, her hand lifting to avoid any wet ink. Her letters peaked and valleyed as Shoris told her a little of what she knew and a little that she did not- the house being the oldest thing in town was obvious, but the fact that the current little strip of civilization was built on the bones of another? Not uncommon, for things this far east of the country to be built and rebuilt. But Lindy had seen what the shadow of a past life could do to a person. How it could hang like wet clothes, dragging everything down with it. She saw it with her father every time they went back to visit, how the memory of her mother haunted him like no other, sucking the very life out of him as well. And while she did not truly believe in ghosts as Jake might have, the negative enrgy of something like an entire town being built over?

Still, she kept writing, knowing that any information would be something they could look further into. Or, you know, story threads for the podcast or video series or behind the scenes. As… wrong as the house felt, Lindy knew this was their chance to make it all fit together. But, she also knew there was no way, no words that could convince her to sleep in that house, at least not for tonight.

“Books?” 

Picky books.

Flammable works.

Her throat suddenly felt very dry as he described the temperamental things, the way they suddenly set aflame. The last thing she needed was for Jake to not only lose his library books indefinitely but also to accidentally burn them to a crisp. They had already been run out of one town for ridiculous late fees- they had snipped up his library card like it was an overcharged credit card. Perhaps it would be a good idea to keep them under her watchful care, at least for right now.

“I would like to see them- if that would be alright. I don’t want to ruin any delicate work… But can you tell me about the journals? Who had lived in the house before? I’m afraid the internet was vague with actual names..”

She lifted her pen and gently tapped it on her jaw blue eyes looking up at the spackled ceiling, trying to grasp the things that Jake had chattered about on the way to the house. The supposed disappearances, the missing owners. After only a second or two, her eyes moved and settled back on the man across from her

“I know there are rumors of a, uhm, woman of the house. Victorian era? And her, what is assumed to be, her husband.”

There is a slightly uncomfortable silence as Lindy gauged the interest of this very kind man watching her. She felt her lips twitch, her smile falter, as an icy grip tightened in her chest as she remembered the pure fear that had been running through her veins only hours ago.

“And dogs. Have… are there any recollections of dogs? Big, black, vicious dogs?”

She felt her cheeks warm as she asked it- Lindy wasn’t one to be bashful about, well anything. Admitting to being afraid of those monster dogs was embarrassing enough, now she was asking if there was some historical account of those hunting dogs that had found their way on property. 

“Nonetheless, I would be really appreciative of any information on the past owners.”

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“Seance? What, you want me to bring the past owners through so they can tell me what's up? No thanks, I’ll pass. Something tells me that I-” He punctuated the word by placing one of the crystals he had been twiddling with his hand back into the box “-won’t be having any trouble manifesting spirits.  And I can cleanse the house, no worries. Won’t be the first time, won’t be the last. I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. If I have any problems, I’ll reach out, don’t worry kiddo.”

Jake gives a smile to Auggie, continuing his warming up to the kid. He was gruff and obviously trying to upsell some services, pegging Jake as some fanatical out of town rube. But, Jake was more experienced in working WITH ghosts than most of those who claimed to as well, especially those who touted it like this store had. Even more so, Jake prided himself on not outsourcing the work, unless it was ethical to do so. And right now, it was important to get to know and trust the friendly variety of ghosts. Figure out what would give them peace and a much more comfortable afterlife.

But. He would have been a fool not to notice the prayer of St. Michael on Lyov's arm. As faded as the words are, he read the beginning quickly before the arm shifted away. And Jake knew from his many god-awful years in catholic school that the Archangels prayer was used in protection. Years after, Jake also knew that there were other, more... specfic reasons that prayer was said. And the fact that some hippy-dippy old man had the knowledge of that and still sold crystals and tarot? It intrigued him, made him trust in their expertise enough to press on.

“When you say super spooky ghosts though… What’s the real deal? You gotta take everything on the internet with a grain of salt, and being a new citizen, I’d like to know what’s up. What’s the goss? What's the word? Have you seen anything?”

Just as the boy challenged him, those almost too orange eyes bore into him, Jake’s bright green sparkled with a rebuttal. A challenge for information that might be matched with- ah, yes. Jake’s fluttery fingers once again settled on a flyer that sat on the counter of the register, spindly digits dancing over the swooping letters and numbers. Some advertisement for a class focusing on the sharpening of the mind, something in the metaphysical and possibly in the parapsychological. 

“I have… heard. There’s a lady in there. Victorian dress, one eye, thin as a rake. Has a terrible scream. And a vengeful spirit out in the trees. Got a bunch of Grims, Black Shucks, whatever you wanna call them… These common ghost stories around here, Auggie?”

His fingers stopped moving, finally landing on the bottom of the page. Good-natured eyes twinkle as he stared back down onto it, a smile growing once more. As he spoke once more, it was innocent enough, his unflappable personality standing firm once more.

“My girlfriend is looking for a place to do some yoga- she was teaching it when we were back in school together. Still does workshops and stuff online, it’s pretty cool. I bet she would love to pay to come here and do some with you guys… And, she’d probably wanna shop for more crystals. It’s kinda her thing- and with your stock, I got a feeling she would enjoy your stock.”

‘This gangly fuck,’ Auggie thought to himself as his eyes watched thin hands place a crystal back in the box with an unnecessary amount of dramatic posturing. One Youtube show, one podcast, and every wheat thin pastel goth thinks they’re a certified psychic ghost hunter or whatever. ‘Manifesting spirits,’ he thinks as the doofus prattles on. ‘Spirits in that house don’t need any help with that. Whether or not they’d show was more up to them than any crystals or incense put out.’ He spares a passive glance towards the box stuffed full of shiny rocks. Not that he was going to say anything. Besides, it wasn’t like Jake here wasn’t going to come crawling back in a couple days for a cleansing when the old fart made the whole place smell of smoke and sulfur, might even get his dad to break out some of the old Latin chants for show and charge a little extra for it. People ate that shit up.

“What are you, like eighty?” He rolls his eyes when Jake starts fishing for ‘hot goss’, if he’s ‘seen anything’. Now that was a hell of a question. He’s about to launch into his pitch for the seances, turn the whole question back around away from him and towards the list of services on the flyer Jake’s got his fingers on, when this terrible tv psychic mentions Noelle. And Tobias, but vengeful has never been a word he’s associated with the ghost outside of the whole ‘murdering one specific ghost every month’ thing he’s got going on. Hell, he’s watched him and Devon play tic-tac-toe in the dirt more than once. It’s hard not to let the surprise show.


“Vengeful?” he snorts before he can help himself. “What’d you do to piss him off?”


“They’re common enough.” He continues, schooling his expression back into its patented ‘no fucks given’ baseline. “Everybody knows her story around here, don’t need us to tell you. Could probably ask any librarian and get more than I could offer.” He doesn’t mention that Tobias isn’t exactly included in that. Far as he and Devon know, the dude just wandered onto the property to die. He had looked; there was no record of him that the library had on file. “Besides, coyotes aren’t exactly uncommon around here. Sure you’re not just confusing the two? I know the mind does funny things when its scared.”

Jake’s trying to sweet talk him by trying to sign up for classes. It would normally work, but Auggie has a prize riding tonight on whether this dude purchases one, so he just lets the kid talk and talk until he catches a glimpse of his dad coming back around the corner with a frankly massive clear quartz cluster in his hands.

“Shit dad, if you needed help, should have just shouted.” Auggie’s out behind the counter in a quick moment, but Lyov waves him off.

“Augustine please. I’m old, but I can handle a hunk of rock just fine. Even if it is rather large.” With a rather large huff, he sets the large rock on the counter with the rest of them. Auggie looks rather dubious, but slides back behind the counter, grabs the notepad, and begins ringing the purchase up. “Might have been easier if someone hadn’t moved the thing downstairs.”

Auggie doesn’t look away from his numbers. “We needed more room for the seasonal shit up here. No one had bought one of the larger crystals in like a couple weeks.” He does look just slightly apologetic for it though. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Now, I heard the very tail end of your conversation, pardon my eavesdropping. You were thinking about some classes for a lovely lady?” Lyov turns to Jake as he leans on the counter, looking up towards the taller man with tawny eyes like the ones sending looks toward him behind the cash register.



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The silence doesn’t last long. Across from her, Shoris breaks into an excited grin. “Ah, the rumors! The stories! They are my favorites, pity they’re so grim. My mother, she asks about my hobbies sometimes. What am I supposed to say, that I research ghost stories? She’d think me insane.” He shakes his head, his neat rows of dreadlocks shifting with the movement. “Granted, I don’t go up to the house. Belief keeps me firmly at a distance.”

“The woman of the house is well known.” He starts. “She and her husband had moved in after the second town was built, bought the place soon after they were married. The newspaper reported at the time that after about a year or two of marriage, she killed him. Stuffed his body in the branches outside if you can believe it.” He huffs out a small laugh and shrugs. “Strong ‘if’, I suppose. Though there wasn’t anyone else in their employ to do such a thing, so it would have to be her, but...” His voice trails off them. Dark hands come up in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture before folding themselves across his chest.

“As for the dogs and the owner, well.” He hums, thinks. “Dogs not so much. The original owner though? A Lazarus McKay. The only source we have is the journal, and it’s only the signed name in the front cover that gives it away. There’s no property documents, save for a receipt of sorts stuffed in the pages of the journal for some sort of service. The house was founded before the current town, no record of him past that. All I can assume is that the man came from money to have a house like that. Hard to believe it looks the way it does as well.”

Dark eyes catch hers and it’s not for the first time in this conversation that he catches her looking a little frazzled. She looks as though something had shaken her. If she was staying at the house, it didn’t surprise him, though he really did feel for the girl. “I’m sorry I can’t be of much more help at the moment. Let’s get you those books, yes?” He glances over her once more behind his glasses. “You said you were new in town, lets also get you a card. I have a feeling I might be finding you here more often.

“Oh.. oh, a card would be great, thank you.” Lindy tried to bring the breeze back into her smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as it should. Although she could rationalize most ghost stories, the idea of a murderous woman who had once lived in the house was chilling, not to mention the horrific way the body had been found. The fact that it was a couple was also deeply troubling, especially with how out of it Jake seemed already. She felt her hand go to tighten her powder blue cardigan around her, clutching her pen in her fist while doing so. There must have been a draft in the old house the library had been placed in- there was no way a ghost story could affect her so.

Lindy stood carefully, putting her notebook and pen away, and pushing in her chair back to where she found it. Hands went to pull at her hair once more, tightening the grip of her scrunchie before landing to her pockets, thumbs sticking in and leaving the rest out. It was an open, casual stance that matched well with the smile and gave her a new sense of ease, even if it was fabricated. She waited for Shoris to stand before following him through the house to find the aforementioned books.

“And I understand where you come from in regards to not choosing to tell your mother about your fascination with the stuff. My dad would probably call me a loon if he knew I was traveling the country to go to so-called haunted places… I’m so lucky he hasn’t figured out podcasts yet. Then I for sure would be getting concerned letters and phone calls.” 

As they passed through, Lindy began to notice that the part of the library that they were visiting was probably seldom seen. The books were much older, much more… stuck in their place, so to speak. She was sure that Shoris and the other librarians did their best to dust and take care of the books, but they hadn’t looked as if they had been moved in, well, ever. Perhaps in the age of the internet, any two-bit ghost hunter could just google whatever they needed. But Lindy knew that these books contained details that most teens couldn’t find on Wikipedia. 

“You said that the original owner, Lazarus McKay, had a journal? With receipt? Could I see, perhaps it might give us a little insight into the house… It’s… It’s still quite lovely inside, it’s amazing that it’s kept for so long.”

That was an understatement- how neatly the house had stayed after years of neglect? Decades even? She had to assume that tourists and teens trespassed their way into the house. And for not a single painting to be ripped, or wallpaper is torn? The handyman guy that Steve saw must have his hands full with the place. She made a mental note to make sure they left him a big tip the next time they saw him for a leaky faucet or something. The man was really doing an insane job at keeping it together. The light became warmer and dum as they walked deeper into the shelves and stacks, and yet Lindy found herself finally in some state of calm. And ready to make conversation about anything but this god damn house.

“Say, Shoris. Random question but... You know of any yoga studios around?”
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“Oh, you should see her at it, Lyov. Incredible!” 

Jake gave Auggie a little wink, happy to be talking once more with the old man. He liked the kid just fine, knew his type. Fuck, take away the happy go lucky attitude and generally cheeriness, and he WAS that kid like 6 years ago. Same shitster attitude, same aimlessness. But Lyov- like the guy just radiated that calming dad energy! Probably sold some weed on the side, probably had wild stories, probably was always supportive of his son no matter what. Didn't have expectations to be met, just vibes. Jake always wanted that from his dad, but nooooooo. God gifted him a firefighter shaped like a brick and constantly reminded him to sign-up for online classes and do something with his life.

He was! He was helping dead people!

Or at least trying.

“But seriously, she would be grateful for some classes! She’s pretty advanced, but I think having it in her schedule would give her something to look forward to. And this shop is right up her alley, Mr. Kazimir, honest, scouts honor!”

Jake even raised his hand, three inked fingers standing proud as his pinky curled under his thumb. He hoped his bright smile was endearing, as he dropped his hand and finally peered at the absolutely beautiful cluster on the counter in front of him. The pillars jutted out so in spite of each other, the small stout peaks squished together like sardines at the bottom. Their clarity was INCREDIBLE, perfect for clearing out some of the negative vibes and keeping the good ones. Also, it would look damn good on the window sill. He allowed himself a low, reverent whistle as he pulled out his wallet.

“Sweet Jesus, she’s a beaut. Absolutely perfect, wonderful, stunning, amazing, never been done before. It’s seriously gorgeous, even if it means I won’t be able to eat for the next few days-” Jake quickly looked up, hands in the air “I’m joking! We’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. It’s too pretty not to, you know? And perfect for what I need.”

Jake begins to rifle through cash- his cut from the recent video views and sponsors. The total would be at least a couple hundred for the entire lot, with how big some of the pieces were. He was already going dizzy trying to think of which would go where at the house.

The house.

Information.

Right.

“So, Auggie was telling me about the house on the hill. Told me that everybody knows the stories, that I would be better off checking out this stuff at a library but… I feel like you all, as locals, probably got your nose to this stuff more than most. Or get out of towners like me in here who show up with a camcorder and some thermal camera to do some ‘investigating’-” Jake was sure to punctuate those words with air quotes, but specifically glanced at Auggie with what could only be described as a smug expression “- and you spin them the yarn, you point them on their way, and they leave. And I get it! I probably look just like those dudes. But… I swear. I’m not here to… screw around like that. Despite my appearance, I actually do my best to take this stuff seriously. And, by taking it seriously, I know that you and the others in town probably have much more knowledge than any old book.”

His fingers once more began to move, now drumming on the countertop, his eyes shining once more on the two. He knew he couldn’t trust him with the whole ‘I see dead people’ thing just yet- shit, if he hadn’t told his girlfriend or best bud the entire truth yet, these stout soothsayers wouldn’t be hearing it anytime soon. But he still liked to be as honest as possible- he wasn’t here to exploit the people who were stuck, to make a buck off their torment. Steve would help him set up some fake stuff for the videos, and if they caught something extra spooky, so be it. But to help these guys? To give them peace and a shot at something close to enjoyment during the afterlife? The rest was all gravy.