The Haunting of Armitage House: Shadows in the Past, #2

By Mo Raven

Little Isabella Burnside is fading away, and no matter how many specialists her mother takes her to, they can't pinpoint the problem. 

Her twin brother, Jack—once open and gregarious—can now barely communicate. 

Nobody knows what is wrong with the Burnside twins. They keep talking about ghosts, but their mother will have none of it. "It's just your imagination," she tells them: "just bad dreams."

Isabella's father, desperate to help his children, calls in Lincoln Sweeney and his partner Katie Dyer, paranormal investigators, to see if there is any basis for his children's nightmares. His wife Helena, intent on climbing the social ladder now that they're in their expensive house-with-a-history, is furious: she can see her dreams dissolving before her eyes. 

Then disaster strikes. Lincoln disappears, and his twin, Tara, senses immediately that something unspeakable has happened to him. She races through the night to where he was last seen, and she and his partner Katie set about trying to unravel the mystery. 

Where is Lincoln? Is he on this plane or the next? Is it really a vengeful ghost that has enticed him to a fate worse than death—or is he really dead? 

Blocked at every turn by Helena Burnside, battling to find out the truth, Tara and Katie doggedly keep following the clues until they realise, with horror, just what they are facing. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Sep 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781922772015

Book preview

Prologue

Present Day, Armitage House, Yorkshire

Lincoln Sweeney edged closer to the monitor to study the sound waves again, his eyes registering every peak and trough. He'd been going through video and audio footage for hours, but there was no way he could afford to stop. 

This was their third night at Armitage House, and they were getting close to making contact with the spirit world; he could feel it. Time, however, wasn't on his side. 

They had just two days before the Burnside family were due to return. If he and his partner, Katie, didn't have something concrete to show them, the investigation would be shut down.

He scratched the three-day growth of stubble on his chin as he adjusted the white noise filter on the audio and replayed the recording from the main living room, listening intently. 

What was it that drew him to this part of the house? 

He sensed a presence; something was here, he was sure. The data, however, couldn't prove it. 

Frustrated, Lincoln paused the audio, sat back in his chair, and cast a glance around the room. Where are you? he muttered at the empty house. I know you're here. Just stop hiding.

Nothing.

He sighed and clicked on a video file. If you won't talk to me, maybe you'll show yourself to me.

He often talked to the spirits or to himself while he worked. It didn't bother Katie; she knew his habits well. Anyway, she was intent on her own recording, playing it back through her headphones.

Lincoln rubbed his eyes and kept them squeezed shut for a moment to rest them before he refocused on the infrared footage. 

There it was again. A shadow moved across the camera; it lacked form or substance, but its presence was undeniable. At least it was to Lincoln. Helena Burnside, however, would need more than a grey blob as proof that a spirit was the cause of her husband's unease in the house.

But it was a start.

The shape appeared to come from the right, from the direction of the fireplace to the dining room where he sat working.

Not clear enough. He froze the frame and hit the print button before syncing the audio with the video and listening again. The EVP, or electronic voice phenomena, should be evident at the same timestamp as the shape. He strained his ears.

Nothing. 

Nothing. 

Frustrated beyond words, Lincoln tossed his headphones on the Burnsides' dining room table, their makeshift office, and dropped his face in his hands until the printer had finished humming. He picked up the image and studied it. 

Maybe it was a problem with the frequency? 

Katie took off her headphones and stretched her arms over her head before glancing across at him. I hope you're having better luck, she said.

Not really, he responded, acknowledging Katie with a glance before his eyes flicked back to the screen.

Katie stood up, twisting her back until it cracked. I need to get away from this computer for a while. Some food and a break before I look at it with fresh eyes.

Lincoln readjusted the balance on the audio and grunted something in response. Katie walked across and pulled off his earphones. 

Linc? I need food, how about you? Hungry?

Yeah, I heard you. Fine. I was just going over this video again. I'm missing something….

You're not alone. Katie was exasperated. I've watched every video at least three times, and I'm starting to go daft. She ran her fingers through her pixie hair. Come on, Linc, I'm starving. Let's run out for dinner. Take a break, refuel.

Lincoln leaned back in the chair, and his stomach responded with a gurgle. I could eat, but I hate to give up. We're close, Katie, so close. He held out the photograph.

She squinted at it and saw the shape right away. 

Linc! Excitement started to edge out her frustration. At last, we've got something! 

I think so, he confirmed, heartened by her response. But it's going to take more than this to convince Mrs Burnside.

Katie nodded, looking again at the vague shape. People like her always say it's a smear on the lens or something. And you've got to admit, it's not clear. Not unless you know. 

They're going to be in London for two more days, then back here. That isn't much time. We need proof when she gets back, or her kids are toast.

Katie let out a snort. "People like her make me mad. If my perfectly healthy kid started to fade as fast as her Isabella, I'd be open to anything that could help. But not that one; she is cold!"

Lincoln drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking. "On the plus side, her husband is open to what we have to say. When they come home from another clueless specialist, she might be ready to accept the existence of the paranormal, but we have to move forward as if she isn't. I think Burnside will be on board."

Katie bounced on the balls of her feet and shadow boxed with an invisible opponent. We can do this, Linc, she reassured him. But not without food! You stay, work. I'll grab a pizza from town, and after we eat, we'll run through it all again together. I'm sure we'll find something.

As always, her optimism cheered him. Agreed. 

Katie headed out, and Lincoln had his headphones in place and was engrossed in his work again before the front door closed. The wooden chair creaked under his weight as he leaned forward, listening. There had to be a sound that went with the image. Come on, he encouraged himself, stifling a yawn that betrayed his exhaustion. "Focus. For little Isabella."

Again: nothing, nothing. 

Glancing at the photograph, he spoke to the shadow that dominated the image. You are probably right here, aren't you? Having a good laugh at my expense. 

That's when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

Something, or someone, moved past the doorway into the living room.

Lincoln drew in a long, slow breath, feeling almost weightless with excitement. He pushed back his chair carefully and stood, not daring to scare off the apparition. Any sudden movements could be viewed as a threat and cause the manifestation to dissolve. 

Extending his senses, he was sure he could feel the presence of at least one spirit. And based upon the history of the house, he'd be surprised if it was host to just one. 

The Armitage family had built the house in the 19th Century to reflect their new status: a title of nobility obtained through somewhat questionable means. The house had remained in the family for a hundred years until the Great Slump, when the last earl to live in Armitage House lost the family estate, signing it over to a fellow gambler to settle his debts. After that, it had passed through half a dozen hands before the Burnsides became the newest landed gentry. 

Before he and Katie had started their investigation, Lincoln had spent countless hours scouring the public records searching for clues to the spirit's presence, only to draw a blank. He wasn't surprised: secrets bred unrest, and all families had things they wished to keep hidden.

Seeing the spirit, following it, was Lincoln's best chance to discover what it wanted–and to learn why it had chosen to target little Isabella. 

A shadow drifted in his peripheral vision. Lincoln forced his breathing to slow despite his pounding pulse. Carefully he edged his way around the dining room table and stood in the doorway. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the subtle electrical charges crackling in the air. 

Slowly, he moved into the living room. Now, only the barest glow of twilight filled the windows, and, in