The Haunting of Blackwood House (3 page)

They found Jenny pacing up and down the porch, feverishly sucking on a cigarette. She stubbed it out on the bannister when Neil cleared his throat. “Well, how’d it go? Not quite what you were looking for?”

Mara couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “No, it’s great. I’ll take it.”

Breathless Jenny’s eyebrows shot up. She blinked twice before she could fix her smile then laughed nervously. “R-really? You want it?”

Mara shrugged. “Yeah. I want it.”

“Oh. Oh, okay! Great! That’s fantastic! Let’s—uh—should we—”

Despite having spun the most positive sales pitch she could manage, Jenny seemed completely unprepared for her client’s interest. She looked from Mara to the house and back again, and her smile slowly fizzled.

It wasn’t the expression Mara had expected. She’d thought Breathless Jenny would be delighted to unload a house she clearly disliked. Instead, she looked frightened.

Crap. There’s going to be a major flaw in the building after all. I should have known it was too good to be true. What is it? Does it flood? Asbestos? Rabid squirrels in the forest?

“Sweetheart,” Jenny said as gently as she could. “I need to warn you—no,
warn
isn’t the right word—that is—”

“Yes?” Mara said. Neil shifted closer to rub his hand across her back. She took a deep, slow breath and said, in a kinder tone, “What is it, Jenny?”

Jenny, past having scruples about smoking in front of her clients, fished a new cigarette out of her bag. She lit it, took a quick breath, and said, “I don’t want to frighten you, but you should know: there are stories about this house. Previous owners have experienced—well, they
say
they experienced—some strange things here. Of a supernatural nature.”

Mara could guess where the conversation was heading. Neil squeezed her shoulder.
Stay calm
, the gesture said.

“Oh, so it’s haunted, huh?” Mara managed to keep her voice civil, but her smile was tight. “Okay. No problem. How about we get back to the office and sign some papers? You look like the sort of woman who appreciates a good contract.”

Jenny’s smile dipped. “I’m only trying to help, honey. You can’t be from around these parts, or you’d know this house has a reputation.”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Blackwood House was with our agency when I started as a realtor. It was notorious even then. And after what the last family went through—”

“Hey, do you want me to buy this place or not?”

Jenny sucked on her cigarette then blew a long stream of smoke towards the trees. When she spoke, she’d managed to rein her voice back into a bright, friendly cadence. “It’s an excellent property. And an absolute bargain for the price. But I’m both morally and legally obligated to inform you of any impediments to a mutually happy transaction.”

“Fine, go ahead.” Mara crossed her arms. She knew her smile was closer to a grimace, but not even Neil’s increasingly firm squeezes could calm her. “
Inform
me. Is it ectoplasm? Blood dripping from the ceilings?”

Breathless Jenny didn’t speak for a moment. Their tenuous civility was nearing breaking point, and she seemed to be trying to speak politely. “Footsteps. Doors open by themselves. Smudgy handprints appear on the walls. Strange noises at night.”

“Okay, great. Anything else?”

“And some of the tenants said they saw ghostly figures entering and leaving rooms.” Jenny released the last sentence in a quick burst, as though she wanted to get the worst over with as quickly as possible. She glanced at Mara, who gave her a stiff shrug.

“Cool. Now will you sell me the damn house?”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m making this up.”

“No.” Mara shook Neil’s hand off. “I think you’re regurgitating what you’ve heard, which is ninety percent fiction and ten percent natural occurrences that have been misconstrued. Look, I
know
ghosts. I grew up in a house that practically
worshipped
them. We had seances every damn weekend. When I was five, my mother told me my dead grandfather stood at the end of my bed and watched me sleep. Do you have any idea how many nightmares that gave me?” Mara knew her voice was rising, but she was unable to control it. “When I was ten, my dad drowned my pet rabbit because a Ouija board told him to. I started getting panic attacks when I was twelve. Any other kid would have been taken to a doctor. Any
normal
kid. But I got to sit in a circle of costume-wearing freaks as they attempted to summon ghosts to heal me.”

Jenny took a step back. She wore a look Mara was horribly familiar with. Countless strangers had directed it at Mara’s own parents.
This person is crazy
, it said.

Mara squeezed her hands into fists. She was shaking, and patches of black crept in at the edges of her vision. She lowered her voice, but the hoarse, strained tone still permeated it. “I know everything there is to know about ghosts. And I can tell you definitively that there’s no such thing. Every single one of the spirit mediums who had dinner with us was a fake. All of those seances were manufactured. Every message from the dead was a series of normal, natural events that got twisted and distorted until it held meaning. You want to know if I’m okay living in a ghost-riddled house? Sure thing! Bring it on! Because there’s no such thing!”

“Mara, sweetheart.” Neil had bent so that his chin rested on her shoulder and he could whisper into her ear. His hands—those beautiful, strong carpenter’s hands—rubbed her arms. “Breathe, darling.”

Mara sucked in a lungful of air. She was dizzy, she realised, and her throat felt raw. She closed her eyes until the unsteadiness passed. When she opened them again, she saw Jenny standing on the edge of the deck, her eyes huge as she tapped her cigarette anxiously.

“Damn,” Mara breathed. She opened her mouth to apologise, but her tongue wouldn’t form the words.

“Jenny.” Neil’s gentle voice seemed to diffuse the tension in the air. “Everything’s okay. We’d still like the house. Why don’t you head back to the office, make yourself a nice strong cup of coffee, and relax for the afternoon? You can get in touch tomorrow to organise the purchase. Okay?”

Jenny dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with her heel. She looked pale, but she nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, honey. Let’s do that. I—” She glanced at Mara.

“Sorry.” Mara’s anger was fading, and deep humiliation was taking its place.

Breathless Jenny recovered her realtor’s smile with surprising elasticity. She waved the lingering smoke away as she backed down the stairs. “It’s quite okay, honey—nothing to apologise for. This—this is good. You might be just the sort of person this house needs.”

“Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll send the official paperwork through this afternoon.” Jenny turned and began the laborious walk across the high-heel-hating stone pathway. “You two take care, now.”

“Bye,” Mara whispered while Neil waved their realtor off with a bright smile.

Mara held still until Jenny’s hot-pink car had disappeared around a bend in the road and the rows of dark, spindly trees blotted out the colour. She felt deeply, hotly ashamed of herself.
I’ve been free for four years. I should be past all of that…
junk
. What’s wrong with me?

She turned to Neil. He stood close to her, one arm around her shoulders to comfort and brace her. She pressed her hand to his chest and felt his heart beating.
Strong. Steady
. “I’m so sorry, Neil. That was awful.”

“Shhh.” His other arm snaked around her waist to envelop her in a warm hug. “C’mere. You’re still shaking. Do you want to sit down?”

“I’m fine now.” Mara closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
Herbs and sawdust
. “Thanks for fixing everything.”

“I’m just sorry the house has such a messed-up history. Do you still want it? It’s not too late to back out.”

Mara tilted her head to look over Neil’s broad shoulder. Blackwood’s grey walls—adorned with countless spiders’ homes, clusters of moss, and blooming stains—hadn’t lost any of its charm. If anything, its appeal was growing with each moment she spent near it. “Yeah. I definitely want it. More than anything.”

“All right. Let’s get some lunch. You’ll feel better after food.”

“Sure thing, Mum,” Mara said, and Neil grinned as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve got to ask. You hate even the mention of spirits, but you’re buying an allegedly haunted house. It doesn’t bother you?”

“Heck no.” Mara snorted as she dismantled her burger. They were sitting at a back booth of one of the town’s cosier cafes. Neil had a steak with extra salad. Mara had ordered a burger with a double serving of chips and had threatened to add pancakes before she was done. “Because it’s not haunted.”

Amusement hovered in Neil’s shining blue eyes as he watched her divide each layer of the burger into its own neat pile. He still wore the tightness around his lips, though, and Mara knew the realtor’s story had, in some slight way, unsettled him. “Even though no one else wants to stay there? Even after what they’ve experienced?”

“There are three simple explanations.” Food compartmentalised, Mara began shovelling it into her mouth. “First, mass delusion. It’s more common than you might think. Imagine five people are in a room. One person says, ‘Can you smell that?’ Another person says, ‘Oh yeah; it’s like boiled cabbage.’ A third person agrees. All of a sudden, even
you
can smell it. The air’s perfectly clear, but because everyone is telling you to smell the boiled cabbage, you become convinced you can.”

“And there’s a mass delusion about Blackwood?”

“Could be. You’ve already got the perfect set-up for a classic haunted-house narrative—a serial killer’s home. All you need is for one occupant to say there’s a ghost. Suddenly, every other family that lives there can feel presences following them and claim the doors open all on their own. The more people parrot these claims, the more prevalent they become. Of course, you’ll probably have a few enablers on the way—people who like the drama so much that they invent stories just for kicks. And their families will follow along like the happy fools they are. If you’re
expecting
and
looking for
a ghost, you can bet you’re going to find one.”

“Okay, mass delusion.” Neil nudged his side of salad towards Mara, but she shoved it back. “That’s one explanation. What else?”

“There could be a physical catalyst. A gas leak can create highly realistic paranoid hallucinations. And many supposed hauntings have been attributed to EMF emissions, which can make you see and hear things that aren’t real and induce a feeling of terror.”

“Have something green.”

“No. The third option—and, arguably, the most interesting—is a house stalker.”

“Pardon?”

“Stalkers don’t exclusively focus on people. Sometimes they can obsess over objects—such as houses. It’s not common, but it does happen. There may have been a stalker who frightened each new occupant away so that he could have the house all to himself. It’s surprisingly easy to manufacture a fake ghost.”

“Huh. Imagine trying to talk your house into getting a restraining order.
He’s no good for you, honey. He doesn’t respect your walls
.”

Mara scowled. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’m taking this
very
seriously. It’s important that your house feels safe at night.”

She gave his chest a playful slap.

“Okay,” Neil said, grabbing her hand and kissing its back before she could pull it away. “Where does that leave you?”

“It’s all ridiculously simple. Firstly, I know ghosts don’t exist, so I’m in no danger of succumbing to the mass-delusion effect. I’ll get someone to check for gas leaks and EMF emissions. And time should have fixed any danger of house stalkers.”

“It’s only been twenty years since the house’s last occupants.”

“Yeah, but remember it’s been a long-term problem, since the early 1900s. Even if the stalker started when he was a teenager, he’d be dead by now. Or at least way too old to be a serious threat.”

“So, that’s it, then? It comes down to boiled cabbage, gas, or stalkers?”

“Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with Blackwood that can’t be fixed with a few simple tools. And it’s mine.” Mara laughed. The reality was starting to sink in, and with it came nearly hysterical excitement and anxiety. “I have a house, Neil. All mine.”

He beamed at her. “You deserve it. I’m so happy you found a place you like.”

“That’s the incredible thing. I don’t just like it. I
love
it. It’s ridiculously big for just one person, though. I’ll probably go insane trying to keep it clean. But there’s actually room for a garden out the back.”

“Do you like gardening?”

“I’ve never done it before. But I’d like to.” Mara felt giddy and shoved her half-eaten food to one side.

Neil offered her his hand, and she took it gratefully. The contact helped centre and focus her. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles fondly.

“It probably wouldn’t seem too big with another person living there.” Mara was breathless, and she didn’t dare look at Neil’s face. “I mean, you’d fill it up pretty well.”

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted.”

Neil squeezed her hand. “I can’t leave Mum right now—”

“Oh. Oh yeah, of course.”

Mara tried to pull her hand back, but Neil tightened his grip. He brought his second hand under her chin to raise her head so that she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “But that isn’t going to be permanent. And then I’d love to help fill up that house. And you know, Jenny was right—it’s the perfect size for a family. If that’s something you want.”

His smile was one of the most beautiful things Mara had ever seen. She was glad she was sitting; she didn’t think her legs would hold her up. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” Neil whispered.

Mara tried to lean forward to kiss him, but the booth’s table stopped her short. He laughed and bent towards her, meeting her in the middle, and her heart flipped as his lips grazed over hers. “Mara,” he whispered, and his hand caressed her cheek and pulled her closer so that he could kiss her properly.

“All done here?” The waitress’s frosty voice cut through Mara’s daze, and she and Neil broke their kiss and collapsed back into their seats.

Neil mumbled an apology, but Mara pushed her plates towards the edge of the table. “Actually, can I get some pancakes?”

The waitress didn’t answer but turned a simpering smile on Neil. “Anything for you, honey?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress didn’t take her eyes off him as she scooped the plates up.

Mara couldn’t fail to notice how much effort the waitress put into sashaying her hips as she returned to the kitchen. “What a jerk.”

She was used to Neil attracting attention. He had an easy, comforting aura. His strong jaw, captivating smile, and muscles that stood out even under loose clothes certainly didn’t hurt either. Luckily for her, he was almost always oblivious to flirtation.

His eyebrows drew together. “You look worried.”

Mara shook her frown off and laughed. “No, just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“With the house? Yeah, it’s actually sort of surprising Jenny didn’t suggest it before today. She’d probably given up trying to sell it.”

“That too.” Mara tilted her head to one side. “But that wasn’t what I was thinking of. How’d I end up with you, Neil? Why’d you ask me out?”

Neil’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he raised his hand to caress her cheek. “You were sitting under the big elm in the park and reading
Emma
. I couldn’t get over how beautiful you looked. It took me at least twenty minutes to get up the courage to ask you out, you know.”

Heat rose across Mara’s cheeks. She couldn’t keep herself from leaning into his touch. “And you’ve stuck with me ever since. Why? I’m broken. I have enough baggage to fill a freighter plane. I yell at our realtor. But you—you have all of your crap together—you could have any girl you wanted—”

“I want you.” Neil’s eyes, sweet and firm, captivated Mara. Perfect conviction laced his every word. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before. When I’m near you, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Mara closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand. “Stop being so nice.”

“Only when you stop being so loveable.”

That made Mara chuckle. “Want to get out of here?”

“I don’t mind, but what about your pancakes?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty certain that waitress is going to spit in the batter. Let’s go.”