Murder Out By Caster Bridge

Chapter sixteen

Skidding to a stop in the gravel, I turned off the engine. I then leaned over and popped open the glove compartment and pulled out the spare flashlight I had hidden.

The second I stepped out of my vehicle and closed the door, a bitter chill crisped over my face. I shivered. This was too cool for March air. Hestitatedly, I reopened the door and grabbed my hoodie from the passenger seat, and put it on before I walked. My footsteps chomping into the rocks made it sound like I was stepping on glass which made me even more uneasy.

I then stopped at a huge, creepy gate and took in everything about it. It wasn't odd. The old iron was so badly rusted that some of the bars were bent at weird angles and becoming so dismantled that a small child could squeeze through them if they were careful. Even the words at the top were falling apart. Only the M and C were still intact. Because of its looming appearance, it prevented me from seeing beyond the gate and tree lines. But looking up, I could make out a dark pointy roof tower.

"I don't have a pleasant feeling about this," I said with a deep exhale. My breath was noticeable in the chilly environment. I involuntarily shivered. It was odd. I was in warm clothes so I shouldn't be cold.

"Did you say something?"

I jumped at the sudden voice. Usually, I could detect when someone was near, but Norman's ever-calm emotions were almost undetectable. I turned and shined my flashlight at him. I could see he was dressed in a dark green shirt, brown jeans, a brown jacket, and dark green sneakers. He was also kneeling on the ground and rummaging through a black bag he had open.

I shook my head, not wanting to voice my unpleasant feeling for the second time. It wasn't like my friend would listen to me anyway. "Nothing. What are you doing?"

Norman smiled and pulled out a small camcorder. "Getting this."

"Why?"

"Ghost hunting."

Oh, God. I knew there was something more. He was the type to go in there holding that stupid camcorder and excitedly ignore everything else.

However, I wasn't like that. I was cautious. And ever since Norman brought up this stupid idea, a bad feeling had been slithering around in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes being psychically intuitive sucked especially when your friends ignored you.

I grabbed the walkie-talkie from Norman when he nudged me with his elbow. "What is this for?" I asked as I clipped it to my belt.

"To keep in contact with each other. This place is massive."

"Remind me again. Why we are doing this?"

Norman rolled his bright hazel eyes. "I want answers as to why Jerry's truck was found here. And I also wanted to investigate this creepy home for ghosts."

"Unless there aren't any ghosts home," I said, shrugging.

We pushed the gate open together just as a giant gust of cold air blew past us. A sharp, uncontrollable gasp escaped my lips as I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling slightly. I wasn't necessarily cold. No. I had felt something strange. Emotions of revenge and pain rattled my nervous system.

What the hell?

I turned around and let my gaze wander. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

A hand touched my shoulder. Startled, I jumped and backed away the second concerned emotions flooded my already sensitive nerves. The second my gaze landed on Norman, I relaxed. I took in several good deep breaths, allowing my hands to fall at my side. "I'm okay," I whispered mostly to myself.

"What happened, Wes? Did you feel something?"

I shook my head. Ever since I told Norman about my talent, he felt protective. However, I hadn't discussed this new ability with him. And voicing it would only cause him to go into an excited rant about ghosts. I was just getting used to the idea of being able to see and feel them. So, instead of admitting it, I said, "I'm not even remotely sure. I just thought I felt something is all. But it's gone. It must be my nerves. I'm okay. Trust me. Let's continue."

Norman nodded. "I trust you. I am just concerned about you more. Though, don't be go getting all weird on me for that. You're my friend. So, if you want..."

"No!" I interrupted loudly which caused Norman's calm emotions to flicker to confusion. I flushed and then lowered my voice. "I want to be here, Norman. I'm fine. I want to continue."

Norman nodded again.

We continued our stroll. I buried one of my chilled hands in the pocket of my hoodie. I didn't want Norman to notice them trembling. While I used my hand to point the flashlight around me. In my peripheral vision, weird shadows would dart and then disappear when my light hit them. Maybe I was going crazy.

However, my sense of uneasiness amplified the closer we got to the house. I didn't know if it was the fact that everything was way too quiet or the fact that the tall strands of wheat-like weeds were swaying calmly in the light breeze.

My heart ached at the sights. The once beautiful flowers in the once beautiful garden-like maze were all brown and withered. Even the marble angel fountain was busted. The angel's wings were missing and its sad face was cracked. And no water was gushing out of the bowl she held. It was indeed a pitiful sight.

While the plantation was so desolated, the manor was in worse condition. The old Victorian manor was just as creepy and old as Norman had described. But to me, the manor would have been lovely if it hadn't been left to rot. Overgrown vines were everywhere, crawling up the sides of the house and twirling around the columns. All of the broken shutters, hanging on by one hinge, would rattle whenever the wind caught them and would bang against the chipped painted light red panes. All of the dozen or so windows had cracks on the outside of the glass. What made it even creepier was the fact they were boarded up from the inside as though whoever lived her was keeping something from seeing them like they were super paranoid or something. What a bunch of weirdos. Though, honestly, it made me want to research this place.

The more we walked, the worse the cold got. I couldn't stop myself from wondering what happened or what I had felt. Sure, my empathy wasn't as new or raw, but things didn't always make perfect sense. And I was just getting used to the idea that sensing and seeing ghosts were a brand new aspect of my magical abilities.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, I took in the sight. It was awful. The wood was rotted and looked to have termites biting into it. Even the porch was a disaster waiting to happen. In the hope to relieve my frazzled nerves, I tried to envision how beautiful, lively, and new the place would have been if it had a new paint job and if all the flowers were perky and bloomed.

"Well, this is certainly creepy," I said.

"I'm more curious about what kind of people lived here," said Norman. He noticed the windows.

"I'm not," I said, lying to myself. I was honestly curious, but I didn't want Norman to rant.

"Sure," he said, filming. "This is going to be excellent footage! My paranormal detective ghost-hunting business is well on its way!" He then tossed me a camera. I had to use my magic to bring it into my hands because Norman had a terrible aim in the dark. "Take photos!"

"Don't get too excited," I said as I took snapshots of the house and desolate yard. "I am one hundred percent sure nothing ghostly is going on in this house." I walked up the rotten stairs with the floorboards creaking under my feet. I grimaced and nearly gagged. "God, this place is so grotesque. Can I go back on my word? Can we call it a day and go home?"

Norman rolled his eyes. "You can't chicken out now." I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying anything. "Besides, we both know that I am not going to back out of this. That's not who I am. I'm all in, honestly, I do want to find out the meaning as to why this house is listed as the most haunted on the town's website."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. A headache was building in my head. "Yeah, I do know that. The atmosphere in this place is already tense. Let's make this quick. The quicker we get whatever proof you are wanting, the quicker we can go home."

"Weston," he said like he was offended, but I knew better. He was just being dramatic. "I thought you were excited about this."

"You know I wasn't," I said. I touched the doorknob and turned it. Locked. "Well, Norm, it looks like we won't be getting inside. Good riddance. Is that enough for you to stop this ridiculous ghost-hunting escapade and head back?"

Norman shook his head. "Not a chance! Can't you do that special trick you do?"

I glared at him. "You want me to use my magic to unlock the door?" I asked. "No way. I am not doing that. That is breaking and entering."

"How is it breaking and entering?" he asked. "You wouldn't be breaking anything."

"Okay, good point. But we would be entering a house without permission."

He gave me a pitiful look.

I sighed. "Fine. You so owe me for this," I said. "If we get caught, I am so blaming this whole situation on you."

Norman smiled that goofy grin of his. "I am fine with that. And we won't get caught," he said with unusual confidence.

"What makes you so sure?" I asked. I couldn't help, but be curious. I had to know what made Norman feel this cocky and confident.

He shrugged. "Just a hunch."

I nearly laughed at that. Norman's hunches were about as reliable as predicting the winning lottery numbers. He wasn't always right. Sometimes I wished my hunches were unreliable but maybe that would make me feel less like a freak of nature. Then again, my grandmother always admired and always encouraged me to be myself and to trust my instincts no matter what other people thought.

That was something I found difficult. My grandmother was an eccentric woman. Literally. She believed in herbal medicines that people often criticized and scoffed at and feared and labeled her as some kind of crazy witch. I loved my grandmother deeply and wanted to protect her from their negative and antagonizing words. But it genuinely surprised me that my grandmother never seemed to take any of their hurtful comments to heart.

I walked up the stairs carefully and looked at the door. The light birch wood didn't belong with the rest of the house. It was like it was just put in a few years ago which was strange. There was also the faded lion crest but the knocker ring was missing. I couldn't help but notice how polished the golden doorknob was.

Before I could use my magic, the door squeaked open bringing me out of my deep thoughts. My gaze shot up to Norman, who was standing off to the side. "I didn't do that."

"Ooh," he said, a jittery excited feeling flooding through him and into me. "I told you this place was haunted. Ghosts, hello, we are coming in."

I gave him a strange gaze before we moved and both peeked inside. The place was dark. I pointed my light around. Only the second we crossed the threshold did the lanterns above us blaze brightly and a gust of powerful wind blew past up and slammed the door shut.

Norman grinned. "Looks like we got a ghost on our hands."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't go making any assumptions."

Suddenly, a strong musky smell hit my sinuses causing me to sneeze.

"Bless you," said Norman.

"Thanks," I said, rubbing my nose as I looked around. The foyer was huge. For the most part, it was mostly empty of all furniture. The only remains were an old rusty dead grandfather clock that had its hands stuck on midnight. Above us was a beautiful crystal chandelier. The stairs leading up were caved in and collapsed, so there was no possible way of getting to the second floor.

"I think we should split up," said Norman.

Honestly, I didn't want to split up. This place was giving me absolute creeps. But I knew with Norman being excited, he would never listen to me.

So, I simply nodded and we separated. He went towards the living room while I went towards the kitchen.

As soon as I pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside the grimy kitchenette, a squeak caused my heart to leap. I hoped that wasn't what I thought it was. Moving my flashlight around, a fast-moving rat scurried over my shoe.

I screamed like a girl and jumped on the countertop behind me, hitting the back of my head on the hanging pots.

"Weston!" Norman's static voice came from the walkie-talkie that was clipped on my jeans. "Come in, Weston! Are you there?"

Hearing the concern and panic in his voice, I unclipped the walkie-talkie and pressed the button. "I-I'm h-here," I said, shakily.

"What the hell happened? I heard your scream from the other room. Did you see a ghost?"

"No," I responded. "It was worse."

"What could be worse?"

"A rat."

Norman's laughter came through the radio.

I groaned. "It's not funny."

"Oops, sorry. My finger was still on the button," he said.

"You jerk," I mumbled.

I sighed and reclipped the walkie-talkie on my belt before I jumped down.

An icy coldness broke out and the air became tense. Each puff of breath made me see a white cloud in front of me. My glasses were chilled on my face. I seriously needed contacts.

Suddenly, a hand touched mine. For a split second, I thought it might be Norman. That was until my entire mind was invaded by emotions. The pain was the first one. A deep pain that felt like heartbreak and then the depression kicked in.

With a sharp gasp, I jerked my hand back not wanting to stay in those negative emotions. My chest was tight and hurting. I lifted my eyes only to be startled so much that I fell back against the stove as my eyes were locked onto a young man in overalls. There was something remotely familiar about him. His brown hair was wavy and his eyes were dark brown. It took me a little bit to comprehend that his lips were moving.

"You must put a stop to her."

"Put a stop to who?" I asked. "Who is she?"

Just then a black cat jumped in front of me and hissed at the man.

The man stepped back. "You stupid feline. You can't protect him forever. It's his destiny to help us."

The cat's hair rose like a predator ready to attack and hissed again.

The man looked at me before he flickered a few times until he disappeared.

I was confused. What was happening?