The Talented

By Danielle Rasmussen

Unbeknownst to the majority of mankind there are evil spirits that roam the world haunting the homes of innocent families. Guen Wickliff, a college senior at Creighton University, lives a secret life combating the ghosts that inflict their revenge on the living. Guen, who cares little for school or the social life at Creighton, has found her calling among those like her – among the talented. From her mentor, Marshall, she learns that not only is her ability to see the spirits special, but she is vulnerable to the power of ghosts. Those who possess the special vision are also susceptible to physical violence inflicted by the wicked specters. Guen soon learns that even among those like her, she is different. As Guen travels to various homes to fight the evil spirits she realizes that her talent is above and beyond the ability of her colleagues Unable to confide in her parents Guen turns to a professor on campus who is fascinated by the covert talented and their secret organization. While battling for her life and the lives of those around her, Guen is forced to face things she has never imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Rasmussen
• Release date: Mar 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311298966

Danielle Rasmussen

Danielle completed a degree in History at BYU and then went on to obtain her MPA from George Washington University. She currently lives with her husband and two children in Colorado Springs. The Talented is her first book.

Book preview

Guen didn’t notice mom’s tension as she did her best to prepare the family for the service. The TV was on, there were more important things to notice – Spongebob, for one. She was ready. She had donned a dress with no whining. What more could mom expect? Guen had done her part.

But mom’s irritated voice demanded her attention, Guen, where are your black shoes?

Guen glanced at her comfortably worn tennis shoes clinging to her feet over her bunched-up tights. Elephant ankles, Geoff called them. Guen shrugged, and let her eyes roam back to the television screen. She reached up, and brushed her short shaggy blond hair out of her face. You can’t wear those shoes, mom announced louder, as she dug through a basket of unfolded laundry.

Why? she whined loudly. If she was forced to change her shoes she would have to go find the other ones, and then she would miss her cartoon. Not agreeable!

Sweetheart, they look terrible, mom answered.

No, they don’t, they’re fine, she argued. Why was mom always trying to force her to dress in a way she didn’t want to? It wasn’t fair. Kids never got to make decisions about anything.

The tone in mom’s voice told Guen that patience was not something in an abundant supply that morning, Guen, we don’t wear tennis shoes with our dresses, we wear our dress shoes. I bought those specifically to wear on the rare occasion I can actually get you to put a dress on. Please go find those shoes, now!

But it’s cold outside, and those black shoes are slippery. I like these shoes better. That seemed settled. Now, back to Spongebob.

Mom stopped digging through the basket, and shot her a look full of venomous displeasure, Guen, mom began, her tone suddenly dangerously quiet.

Those shoes pinch my feet, Guen interrupted.

Mom sighed in exasperation. Guen glanced up at her mother’s red face. Guenevere Anne! Spongebob could wait! Guen jumped off the couch, and went in hunt of her slippery, black, pinchy shoes. It was never a good sign when mom used her full name.

Just to add insult to injury mom yanked, pulled, tugged and slicked her hair back tightly into two pig-tails. Her green eyes felt stretched back with the taut spiky fountains protruding from the sides of her head.

As they crossed the slippery parking lot Guen held Dad’s hand tightly. She loved the feeling of safety with her tiny hand when snuggled into his big hand. Guen searched for small clumps of icy snow to crush under her shiny black shoes. She watched her feet and noticed the lumpy white rolls where her tights clumped around her ankles, and across the crease where her shin met her foot. She could see what Geoff meant by elephant ankles. Her feet slid across the icy ground as they walked toward the big church. Her older brother dressed in a white shirt, dark pants, and tie walked ahead of her. Geoff’s head was down, and his hands were buried deep in his pockets. Geoff looked weird in a tie. She had never seen him in one before, and it made this whole odd experience that much stranger. Guen looked behind her, at mom’s sad face. She was stooped over clutching little Cam’s hand. Cam shuffled his tiny feet across the ice moving so slowly.

Guen wanted to hurry. She was anxious to escape the frigid wind biting at her cheeks, and her exposed neck, but she couldn’t make her feet move any faster without losing her balance on the slippery ice. She had had her fair share of spills on the ice, and wasn’t anxious to repeat the experience in a dress.

Finally they reached the protection of the church. Guen found that it wasn’t as inviting as she had hoped. The church was cold and drafty. The gray light from the overcast day poured in through the high windows.

She sat next to dad, on the hard bench watching her wet feet drip melting snow onto the floor while she swung them back and forth. Suddenly dad’s big hand was on her back pushing her forward. Guen slid off the bench, and landed on her feet with a thud. About to protest at being pushed, she looked around and saw that everyone was standing. All eyes were turned toward the door where a coffin was being rolled was entering.

She saw Mr. and Mrs. Carter, Freddy’s parents, following the coffin. Mrs. Carter’s face was calm, and though her eyes looked puffy and red they were dry. Mr. Carter walked a few feet away from her with Sarah, Freddy’s little sister. Freddy’s brothers trailed behind their mother. And then a slew of people that Guen didn’t know or even recognize filed into the huge cold room.

When they finally sat back down Guen looked at Geoff. She expected some demonstration of sorrow, but his face was blank. Why wasn’t Geoff sad? His best friend had died, and Geoff just stared into space without any emotion at all.

Mom released Cam, putting him quietly on the pew beside her, then turned and wrapped one arm around Geoff. It was then that Geoff’s face spasmed into a painful grimace. Guen actually heard a throaty sob escape his lips as the tears began to roll. She watched in amazement while her big, tough, older brother melted like a baby.

The funeral service was long and dull. She spent most of the time entertaining Cam. She would draw a letter on his back with the tip of her finger, and make him guess what it was. Cam eventually grew bored of that game. He still wasn’t that great at his letters when he could see them, so drawing on his back yielded little success. He grew restless, and started trying to climb on her back. Suddenly dad thrust a scrap of paper into her hand, and indicated she should give it to Cam. As she put it in his tiny hand she felt a strange sensation in her head.

It wasn’t like a headache or exactly even a physical feeling at all. It was almost like a mental consciousness had awakened her. Her eyes suddenly seemed to widen as the room got brighter. It seemed too bright but she felt no pain or discomfort in her eyes. She looked up at dad and noticed that he looked odd. It took her a moment to figure it out. His eyes looked strange. The whites of his eyes seemed unusually bright. There were no red lines from his veins. There was no disruption at all, just tiny pure white planes bordering his green irises. She thought it strange, and yet it didn’t frighten her in the least. Maybe it was just the light that had suddenly flooded the room that made his eyes seem so bright. She looked up toward the windows near the ceiling, but the gray clouds still sat heavily in the sky. It was bewildering because the room seemed so illuminated. She looked again to her dad. He seemed transfixed by the people in the front of the church. She looked up that way too, and couldn’t see anything at all interesting.

There sat Freddy and his parents along with his brothers and sisters. She looked at her dad, and then it dawned on her. There sat Freddy?! She whipped her eyes back toward the front of the church in shock. But after an infinitesimal moment she relaxed. She realized she had simply mistaken Freddy’s brother for Freddy. Weird. Dad looked down at her and his eyes widened in shocked surprise for a brief moment. Before she finished blinking, his face was back to normal, and she couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t imagined the momentary surprise. The light that had seemed so bright was no longer obvious. Was it fading or had it never been there in the first place?

Guen shrugged her shoulders, and turned back to Cam. She felt a little ache creep into her temples. She scratched the back of her neck, and couldn’t wait to get out of the cold drafty church.

Chapter 1

Guen enjoyed the way the sun warmed the interior of her truck as she headed south toward St. Joseph, Missouri. Tabitha would meet her at the hotel, along with one of the kids and all the equipment they would need.

The owners of the home were Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence and Carol Wagner. She knew they were a retired couple, and she hoped that they knew what they were in for. Susan usually did a good job of prepping their clients, but some just didn’t get it.

Just over two hours later Guen pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. She looked around the parking lot wondering if Tabitha had arrived or not. Guen walked into the lobby. The front desk was to her right, and a small but beautifully furnished fireside room sat to the left. A large flat screen showing a football game sat above the stone fireplace. Guen found a chair facing the front desk so she would be able to see when Tabitha arrived. Guen stared blankly at the TV without a clue as to who was playing. Shortly, Tabitha emerged from the hallway.

Guen spotted her right away with her black jaw length hair, and severe bangs. Tabitha was tall and a little broader than Guen, but her body was tight and sleek. Her dark lipstick and black clothes frightened some, but not Guen. She knew her too well. Tabitha’s gothic appearance was meant to be shocking, but not scary. Tabitha blinked her dark thick lashes, and the girls rushed to meet, throwing their arms around each other in an excited hug.

Hey Tabs, Guen said happily.

Our rooms aren’t ready yet. Do you want to grab some lunch? Tabitha reported.

Yeah, sounds good.

I’ll drive. I saw a place that looked pretty decent on my way in, Tabitha told her. Guen fell into step beside her as Tabitha led the way. They were quiet as they strolled through the parking lot. Finally Tabitha indicated a silver Land Cruiser.

So I guess the Wagners haven’t been staying in the house for a while now, Tabitha reported as they climbed into the vehicle.

Really? That bad, huh? Guen asked.

I guess. Oh, and Dr. Spade called right before you got here. There has been a change. We are meeting here instead. Tabitha handed Guen a slip of paper with an address on it.

Tabitha pulled out of the parking lot and, drove them to the restaurant she had spotted. It was a local deli and, Guen had to admit that other than the fact that the place was running its air conditioner in October it was a pretty good place.

Neither girl ate very much – nervous stomachs before a job. They were done in no time. They returned to the hotel where their rooms were ready. They just had time to drop off their luggage, and freshen up before heading off for their meeting.

As they drove a sort of sleepy quietness descended upon the vehicle. The nervous energy had taken a reprieve. They had left behind the city, and even the suburbs. Tabitha had taken the exit, and they were driving past sunny empty harvested fields. Guen was wondering when the weather was going to stop being so pleasant, and slap the Midwest with the typical cold biting windy weather that they dealt with every year. Dealing with snow when there were no mountains to ski down, made her grumpy.

So Guen? Tabitha interrupted Guen’s thoughts. So you know how you like . . . aren’t friends with your roommates?

Yeah.

Where do they think you are right now? I mean what do you tell them? Aren’t they curious?

Why would her roommates care where she was? They didn’t care about her life except as fresh fodder for gossip. I don’t have to tell them anything. I have just kind of created my own little world in that apartment. They know I’m . . . Guen searched for the word, independent, and they’ve learned to respect that. To a degree.

Independent, antisocial – whatever, Tabitha shrugged with a smile, but before Guen could defend herself she continued, So they have no idea that you’re even gone on a trip? Isn’t that . . . Tabitha trailed off. Guen waited patiently for her to finish. What was Tabs going to say? Stupid? Idiotic? Pig headed? Guen could feel her defenses starting to form.

Risky? Tabitha finally finished. I mean we’re out here doing this crazy dangerous work. What if you didn’t come back? Would they even know to report you missing? Plus you are a little hiker girl. What if something happened to you on one of those trips? Like when you go see Marshall, and you guys go do your outdoorsy thing? No one would know.

Guen was quiet as she thought about what Tabitha had said. She was usually pretty good about leaving an agenda for someone when she went hiking. She usually emailed her brother or dad, letting them know where she was going. Plus when she went with Marshall he always let his friends know so she didn’t worry so much about that. But this job was such a big secret, and she never told anyone anything about it. Her roommates knew she had a job, but they had no idea that’s where she was when she would take off for days at a time. They never even knew how long she was going to be gone. They hadn’t freaked out yet, and notified the authorities. Guen wasn’t sure if that was lucky or scary.

Well . . . Guen began slowly still thinking hard about what Tabitha had said, I do let people know when I go on an outdoor excursion but . . .

No one knows where you are right now. It wasn’t a question.

Guen sighed, Well Dr. Spade and Susan know, so we’re covered.

Yeah I guess you’re right, Tabitha answered. Her distant voice told Guen that she too was thinking about not coming back – a thought that added strain to the already intense situation that they were facing.

They rode in silence for a while both thinking upon the dour subject they had been canvassing. Guen never thought about her mortality. She only thought about the excitement, and her own significance. It had been a rare moment in her life, when she had felt special rather than freakish. This job made her feel important. But Tabitha was right - it was dangerous. When they were working she always felt the fear. There was no denying that terror was very real.

Finally Tabitha broke the silence. Do you think Marshall tells people?

Guen thought about it for a moment, I really don’t know. I mean I don’t know what he would tell them. Do you tell people?

Tabitha smiled, Yep.

Guen wrinkled her nose, and drew her eyebrows down in confusion, They believe you?

No not in the slightest. Actually I don’t really tell them. I make up a different story every time. Sometimes I’m a superspy. Sometimes I’m an airline pilot. Ya know . . . whatever I can come up with . . . on occasion I slip the truth in there, but with all the other fantastical stories they don’t pay much attention to the truth, Tabitha answered. Dr. Spade wouldn’t be too happy if he knew I was bragging about it.

What about your parents? Do you always tell them about the missions? Guen asked thinking that she had heard the answer before but she couldn’t remember.

I always tell them where I’m going if I think to call them. I told you that they met Dr. Spade when I started working for him, right? They totally respect him. I mean who doesn’t after you meet him. My parents are awesome. They support me. Of course, they still think Spade is little eccentric, but that’s perfectly acceptable for the rich.

Tabitha, how did you find Dr. Spade? Guen asked trying to remember the story.

I was in Europe, and one night we went to this discothèque. It was so 90’s, kind of ghetto, but it was fun. Anyway I met this German guy, Gerhard, and he was totally weird, but I knew at once that we were . . . the same. He recognized the talent in me too.

Oh yeah, Guen murmured as the Tabitha repeated the story.

But Tabitha plowed on, happy to relive it, He said I had to meet someone. He gave me Dr. Spade’s number and address. I remember ditching my friends and going outside to talk to him. It was too loud in there. That’s the great thing about people who have the talent. You can feel it whether they are drunk or not. Well, Gerhard wasn’t drunk that night, but I know he had had at least one drink. Anyway we talked forever, and he convinced me to get in-touch with Dr. Spade. And as they say, the rest is history. She began to laugh, My friends thought we were out there making-out.

Do you keep in touch with him? Guen asked.

We did a lot at first. Especially up until I became an official exterminator, and then I would always contact him after a job, but I don’t know . . . not as much anymore. We still email once in a while.

How did Tabitha know that they were the same? How could she tell? It was just like Marshall, he claimed he knew too.

Finally Guen spoke, Tabitha, I uh . . . I can’t feel it.

Huh, feel what? Tabitha’s mind must have been drifting in another direction.

I mean, I can’t tell when I meet another of the talented, Guen admitted a little embarrassed.

What? You can’t?! Tabitha exclaimed. Are you sure?

Guen rolled her eyes in frustration, feeling even worse. Yes, I’m sure, she sighed.

But why? Tabitha asked trying to modify her tone.

I don’t know.

Well . . . how did Marshall . . . I mean how did he convince you?

Guen could picture Marshall, with his long hair tucked behind his ears, his scruffy facial hair, and his wise, knowing brown eyes. Marshall was a typical customer for the outdoor equipment store where she worked. He would often come in covered in mud from an aggressive mountain bike ride, or smelling of two days worth of camping. It was the smell of a campfire mixed with bug spray. She smiled at the memory. While he grilled her about the differences between products they had quickly become acquaintances which had eventually grown into friendship.

Scenes from the past floated into her mind.

She was folding trousers when he walked into the shop, Hey Marshall? What ya up to?

Guen, he greeted nodding his head, and looking at her with those knowing eyes. I’m in the market for a new headlamp. I lost my last one. She was flattered by the way his eyes seemed to read more than she showed on the surface.

How’d that happen? she asked leading him toward the headlamps, even though he knew exactly where they were. She loved it when Marshall came in. She had a sort of hero-worship admiration for him. There was something special about him, something that set him apart, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He was so knowledgeable about the outdoors, and it was fun to talk to someone who loved it as much as she did – to pick his brain and learn from him. He was a seasoned veteran to all things outdoors. He backpacked, hiked, skied, climbed, biked, and probably did another half dozen sports that she didn’t even know about yet.

Oh, carelessness. I was purifying water one night, and when I got back to camp the lantern was already lit so I took the headlamp off and set it down and I guess I just forgot to pick it up again.

When they reached the headlamps she bent down to point them out. He came up close and squatted down next to her. They argued familiarly about the pros and cons of the different types of lights for a while. He was clean that day, and as she breathed in, she could smell the clean scent of his soap and his minty breath. They fell easily into conversation about his last trip.

Well, I’m jealous. It sounds amazing, she told him as he finished describing a seven mile hike into a spectacular view of a 265 foot waterfall.

Hey, have you ever been to the slot canyons in southern Utah? he asked.

Just once, and it was more than a year ago. They’re awesome, but I’m really not familiar enough with them to give directions or even recommend a route. But we have some southern Utah books over there, she indicated.

Marshall looked toward where she pointed. I’m actually going this weekend . . . you should come, he invited as he stood up. I’m on my own on this trip so I could use the company.

She was ecstatic and slightly nervous due to her secret idolization of Marshall. Go hiking with Marshall Holden! It was unreal! He was way too cool for her. Why he would lower himself to invite her? She was probably at least eight years younger than Marshall. Would he think her too immature? He had tons of camping buddies. Why her? Well, she wasn’t going to miss this chance to learn from the master.

When? she asked eagerly.

This weekend. It’s a three-day weekend. He hesitated before asking, Oh, but that probably doesn’t apply to you, huh?

Actually I do have this whole three day weekend off. Are you sure you don’t mind?

Marshall laughed, No, I would love the company. You would be doing me a favor.

Yeah, great! Thanks Marshall. I’d love to come.

That was the weekend her idolization had faded. He was a real person – a real amazing person, but real none-the-less. He didn’t treat her like a kid – he showed her as much respect as she did him. He wasn’t condescending. It had been so easy, so comfortable. One night as they sat by the fire in shockingly comfortable silence, she noticed that as his eyes reflected the fire light she could see a liquidy amber color beneath the browns of his irises. That was the moment she realized she might have a slight crush on this guy who was way too good and mature for her. Over the years she had been able to focus on their friendship despite her growing secret crush, and that was good enough because she didn’t have any other friends like Marshall.

Tabitha glanced in her direction, and Guen became aware that she had been silent for a while. She racked her memory to figure out what they had been talking about. Oh yeah, how Marshall had convinced her to trust him, and then to open up The Can of worms.

He was just really patient. He became my friend first, and then kind of slowly got me to admit it. The more open he was, the more comfortable I felt, but of course he didn’t tell me right away, which was smart. It would have probably freaked me out, Guen told Tabitha. I mean looking back that is probably the whole reason he befriended me. Because he knew from the first time he walked in the store that I had the gift.

Wow, how long did it take?

I don’t know . . . probably about three or four months.

That’s crazy, Tabitha was lost in thought, and it grew quiet. What does Dr. Spade say? I mean about you not being able to feel the others’ talent?

Guen shrugged wanting to drop the subject. She had always been an oddity to the normal world, and finally she found a sphere where she fit in, but of course, she had one flaw that even made her a freak among freaks. Apparently Tabitha got the hint because she didn’t press the subject.

They drove along chatting happily, catching each other up on the details of their lives, with Tabitha doing most of the talking while Guen enjoyed her crazy, slightly exaggerated stories. Soon they reached the address on the little piece of paper. It was a church. The parking lot held two cars, one of which was a shiny black Lexus. The other was an old Volkswagen Jetta. Tabitha and Guen got out of the car and tried the front doors. They were unlocked. They walked into a foyer area where colored light scattered diagonally across the floor from the stained glass windows located in the Sanctuary adjacent to the foyer. On one wall hung a large cork board, covered with notices and flyers. On the opposite wall a picture of Jesus hung. It was quiet and they shot each other a worried glance. Was this the right place? Weren’t they supposed to respect the reverence of the chapel?

Was there a room number? Guen whispered. Tabitha reached into her pocket and fished out the note.

Nope, she answered.

Nothing? Guen asked in a frustrated whisper. In answer Tabitha handed her the paper. Guen stared at the address without any further information. Finally with her voice at normal volume she said, Well, let’s go look. Guen turned left away from the Sanctuary, and walked through a wide set of open double doors. Tabitha ran to catch up. The doors led to a hallway type room that Guen only glanced at fleetingly. Another set of open double doors beckoned to her on the other side of the room.

She walked through them into a gym. It was carpeted with a thin tan industrial type carpet and marked with court lines. She looked up and saw raised basketball hoops. The cinderblock walls were whitewashed, and on her left was a big glass window with a door leading out to a playground.

To her right a man was making his way toward them. Behind him sat a red-haired woman at a cheap plastic round table surrounded by three metal folding chairs. The man was of medium build with a light step, and a small protruding stomach. His white thinning hair was brushed back smoothly away from his suntanned face. His dark blue blazer, combined with his light blue button up shirt, and tan pants gave him a distinguished look. Guen wondered fleetingly if they were the kind of people who summered in the Hamptons.

Guen leaned over to Tabitha and muttered One buck on family money.

Tabitha gave a slight shake of her head in disagreement, You’re on . . . academics. Guen and Tabitha had both turned toward him, and started walking. The room was large but they closed the distance quickly. The gentleman extended his hand, and tried to sound at ease, but the tension that seeped into his voice was obvious, Hello, I’m Larry Wagner.

Guen reached for his hand, Guen Wickliff, Dr. Spade sent us.

Hello Mr. Wagner, I’m Tabitha Eberlee, Tabitha held her hand, and Mr. Wagner smiled tightly and shook her hand.

Shall we? he asked as he turned, and gestured toward the table where the redhead sat.

As they walked toward the table Tabitha asked the question to settle their bet, So Mr. Wagner, what is it you did before you retired?

Professor at the University of Chicago. But after I retired last year we moved here. We love the country, and were ready to escape the city. Tabitha looked at Guen and smiled. Guen shot her a dirty look.

They reached the table where Mrs. Wagner was seated. Her hair was shoulder length and smooth. The vibrant color of her hair led Guen, at first glance, to think her significantly younger than her husband, but as she drew closer she could see the folds in her face that came with passing years. Her smile lines were deep and the creases around her eyes belied her age. The slack skin under her eyes was puffy, and heavily coated with make-up to hide the dark color. Unlike her husband Mrs. Wagner didn’t try to smile. She rose from the table where she had been fidgeting with a tissue.

She was a diminutive woman. Mrs. Wagner’s clothes seemed to hang on her already thin frame. It was obvious that she had recently lost weight, which didn’t look like something she needed. Her eyes were heavy and tired looking.

I’m Carol, she announced not offering her hand.

I’m Guen, and this is Tabitha. It’s nice to meet you . . . Guen paused. Normally she would have addressed her as Mrs. Wagner, but when the woman had introduced herself she had not used her last name. Guen decided to error on the side of caution. It was always better to use more respect than expected or needed, Mrs. Wagner. She finished. Based on the hesitation, and insecurity of the Wagners, Guen knew it was her job or Tabitha’s to take charge of the meeting.

Guen looked at the tall figure to her right expectantly. Tabitha pulled out a chair and said, Well why don’t we get started? The Wagners nodded, and everyone sat down in near unison. After Mrs. Wagner was seated she plucked the tissue from the table with her fingertips. She rested her forearms on the table and began again to toy with the soft tissue. Guen watched Mrs. Wagner’s unsteady hands shake as she wound the tiny cloth through her fingers.

Tabitha prodded gently, Why don’t you go ahead and tell us what you have been experiencing in your home? Mr. Wagner looked expectantly at his wife. Guen and Tabitha followed his attention, and focused their eyes on Mrs. Wagner as well.

She cleared her throat nervously, Well, it started when Larry was gone one night. I was home alone, and I just felt uneasy. I’m not afraid of being alone, but for some reason that night I felt nervous. I was just sitting in the living room watching TV, and the lights . . . kind of . . . flick . . . she suddenly grew quiet. The silence extended uncomfortably. Mrs. Wagner had pulled her hands into her lap and was studying the tissue circumspectly. The large room seemed to be swallowing all the sound as Guen waited patiently. Mr. Wagner reached a hand over and placed it on his wife’s shoulder blade where he rubbed gently in a calming manner. It was such a loving gesture from him. Guen’s heart softened further when Mrs. Wagner looked at her husband, her eyes glistened, and she gave him a smile of appreciation. What a privilege – to witness love like theirs!

Finally, after what seemed like a solid minute of silence Mrs. Wagner spoke, her tone a little lighter but especially wary, What is it exactly that you girls do? I mean what exactly are you going to do for us?

Tabitha looked directly at Guen, and lifted her eyebrows in astonishment. Guen reached slowly across the table, and took a hold of Mrs. Wagner’s hand which had crept back onto the table. She rubbed the soft loose skin gently, feeling the protruding veins under her thumb. Mrs. Wagner, she said, we’re here to believe you.

Chapter 2

Guen and Tabitha made their way up the narrow sidewalk to a front step shadowed by swollen shrubs. The house was small and looked old, but the taupe paint was fresh and the dark shutters added charm. The land surrounding the house was beautiful. Trees with leaves of various hues dotted the landscape.

It was early evening, and long shadows stretched across the grass. The cool air wrapped around Guen’s hands spreading a chill throughout her body, and eating away at the measly jacket she had worn for protection. They arrived at the house much later than anticipated. The meeting with the Wagners had lasted quite a while. Mrs. Wagner had talked and talked, feeling free finally to spill the truth. It must have been a relief to her to have someone believe her, and doubt nothing about her story, or assume she was a crazy person.

Mr. Wagner had taken his turn after Carol. He didn’t have as much experience with the anomaly as Mrs. Wagner because she had spent more time in the house than he had. After her first few encounters she started finding reasons to escape her own house – once she had convinced herself that the house was indeed haunted.

Guen stepped up on the narrow front step. She took a deep breath, and adjusted her valuable quiver full of crossbow bolts. At once she could smell their strong odor. She gave Tabitha a brief tense smile and asked, You ready?

Tabitha nodded determinedly lifting her crossbow. Guen reached forward, grabbed the doorknob, and slowly turned. The living room they entered was small but quaint. It was on the east side of the house so it was shadowed, and very little natural light spilled in through the windows. The shadows around the furniture were deep, and Guen peered anxiously into them. Tabitha stepped in behind her, and Guen slowly and quietly walked forward. Tabitha reached over, and flipped the light switch. A warm glow sprang from the expensive lamps in the corners of the room. The shadows shrank significantly. A quiet moment of relief eased Guen’s fear. Then the lights flickered dramatically and went out. Goose bumps jumped up along Guen’s spine. She hated herself for the fear that flooded through her. She would never admit to Tabitha that the first evidence of the presence always . . . always terrified her. And she was starting to hate the dark.

They didn’t talk as they stole quietly through the house, which only added to the creepiness of the situation. Where was it? Mrs. Wagner had believed it was a woman, but she couldn’t see her. It was all based on legend. The girls made their way to the kitchen which was lighter due to the large windows framing the sun’s descent.

Guen was staring at a pantry door, contemplating the confrontation of opening the door when Tabitha’s voice startled her. Hey did you notice? Tabitha asked in a subdued voice pointing toward the floor.

Guen looked down, and noticed their obvious footprints in a thick layer of fine powdery dust. Just like Mrs. Wagner said, Guen confirmed. Their eyes met for a moment, and then they moved on in their stealthy quiet manner. Tabitha headed around the island in the kitchen one way, while Guen headed the opposite way toward the closed pantry door.

Guen had a bad feeling about this. Was it behind the door? No matter how many times she had done this, she could still get rattled. How in the world was she supposed to get her crossbow in front of her, and aimed before the ghost either attacked or was gone? Hey Tab? Guen asked in a hushed voice.

Yeah? Tabitha looked up.

Do you want to shoot or open the door? Guen asked nodding toward the white wooden door in front of them. Tabitha lifted her loaded crossbow, and peered through the scope in answer. She glanced once at Guen, and nodded her headed slightly.

Guen nodded in return and reached for the door knob, ready to jump back the second it opened. The metal was cool to her touch, and everything seemed slow. Her heart thudded fast and heavy in her chest. She could hear her shallow frightened breathing, and could feel the muscles in her arm contract. And then she yanked pulling the door open wide, and jumping back. Guen lifted her own crossbow before she even looked toward the open door. But immediately Tabitha’s own stance relaxed, and she lowered the weapon. Guen looked at the empty pantry.

Tabitha twitched her lips, almost bored. Upstairs? she asked.

Guen shrugged, Yeah, I guess let’s start up there.

Tabitha led the way as they headed back through the living room toward the stairs. Tabitha had started up the stairs when something strange caught Guen’s attention. Next to the stairs was a small black table, it looked a little like a lacquered bar stool. On top it stood a vase full of dried flowers. The base of the vase was surrounded by the same thick dust that covered the floor. Tabitha had turned to head up the second flight of stairs, but still Guen stared at the table. It looked as though something had been written in the dust. She was trying to decipher the words when she heard Tabitha scream. Guen looked up to see Tabitha come tumbling down the stairs. The loud unmistakable sound of a door slamming rang in Guen’s ears, followed by another and another.

Guen cursed in alarm and frustration. Guen saw Tabitha’s head slam into the wall at the landing between the two flights of stairs with a loud thump. She rushed over to her but Tabitha was already pulling herself up.

Are you okay!? Guen shrieked.

Yeah. Go go go! Tabitha screamed hysterically.

Guen hurtled Tabitha, and rushed up the stairs. She called back as she rushed up. Is it her? Is it her? Why was she asking such a dumb question? Of course it was her. She had seen Tabitha’s eyes. It was obvious that she had just seen the specter they were looking for. Tabitha’s eyes had looked so much more defined – every line and curve more blatant – the blue bluer, the white whiter. It was obvious.

Yeah it’s her, Tabitha called toward Guen’s back.

Guen didn’t pause as she jumped two stairs at a time. They were in trouble now. The ghost knew they could see her. She probably knew they were here for her. And she knew that she could touch them.

Guen stared at the door at the end of the hall. Logically that’s the one the ghost was waiting behind. If she shut the other two doors on the way to the far one it would make sense. But she forced herself to check the closest door. She popped her head in to make sure the room was empty. She was completely floored to see the ghost standing right in front of her. In a fraction of a second Guen registered her vacant eyes as they stared vaguely in her direction.

Completely caught off guard by the ghost, Guen was slow to move, and before she knew it the spirit had