Authors: Miranda Powers
“The EVP’s they got when they investigated in ’94.”
“So, no one’s tried to go back?”
“Not that I know of.” Carl handed her a tape player. “The place has a habit of driving its owners nuts. The last guy strung himself from the rafters.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I were.” Carl glanced outside. “It’s getting late. Take that stuff home and see what you think. The boss is willing to send you up there, all expenses paid.”
Jenna nodded, tucking the folder and tapes into her bag. “So if I go, what’ll I take with me?”
“Just you and a strong stomach.”
“You mean I’ll be on my own?”
Carl paled. “Well, you’ll have Marcus.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything, Carl. You look like you’re about to wet your pants.”
“Shut up!” he snapped angrily. “You should be on your knees thanking me. I could have gotten those yahoos from the university.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Carl looked at her and said grimly, “He didn’t want them.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenna replied uneasily, not caring for the way he was acting. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good.” He helped her on with her jacket and walked her out. “You want the job or not?”
Jenna sat behind her steering wheel and answered without thinking, “I do.” She was just as surprised as Carl and added hastily, “I mean, sure I’ll go.”
Carl nodded. “I’ll tell the bossman. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it.”
Jenna drove off feeling oddly content. This would be her first solo investigation and hopefully, not her last.
2
Twenty-four hours later, Jenna was on her way to London. Of course, Carl would have to stick her in coach. After a lousy dinner of cardboard salmon and limp asparagus, she read through the file and immediately asked why she didn’t pack a parachute.
Blackmoor Castle. Just the name was enough to induce a cold sweat. Built in 1266, the stone behemoth had braved enough murders and invasions to render it uninhabitable. Jenna shivered as she read horrific tales of beheadings, torture, and dungeons. Numerous husbands had offed their wives in gory and messy instances in which the heads or bodies were never found, while recent tenants fled screaming into the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“Carl,” she muttered to herself. “What did you get me into?”
Page after page of police investigations, broken leases, and mysterious accidents swam before her eyes. At one point Jenna listened to the EVP’s recorded during half-hearted ghost hunts. What she heard was enough for her to rip the earbuds out and shove the tapes back into her purse. As she flipped through the pages her eyes caught a photograph of a painting of a handsome man. His eyes looked familiar and she felt heat rising in her body.
“Calm down, Jenna” she whispered to herself. “I know its been awhile but there is no sense in getting turned on by a ghost.”
The plane would be landing soon, and Jenna decided to take a nap to avoid the feelings that picture had stirred within her. She slipped a pillow under her head and closed her eyes. As she did so, she tried not to give too much credence to the horrors that she’d heard on the tapes. She fell into a restless sleep plagued by sex dreams. Unseen hands, caressed her body, moving slowly. The hands slid along her jawline, fingers softly traced her mouth. She reached out to suck the fingers gently but they disappeared. She lay still and the hands returned, urgent, searching. She longed for that touch. A touch like she had never experienced in her real life. The hands appeared at her feet, gently sweeping that amazing touch over them and up her legs. She parted her legs, wanting desperately for that touch. The hands disappeared again. Frustrated, Jenna lay still again. But the hands did not return. Just a man’s voice whispered to her. He only said one thing.
“Jenna”
3
They lost her luggage. She was supposed to meet her assistant, Mr. Niven from Cambridge, but he seemed to have fallen into a black hole.
By the time the rickety cab pulled up, Jenna was ready to strangle a man; any man who resembled Carl. The grizzled driver deposited her on the doorstep of a rat-infested hovel as her boss had ran out of money when he was booking accommodations.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned. “I was better off at the airport.” She flung her backpack onto the stained carpet and unrolled her sleeping bag. She didn’t bother to undress.
Jenna wasn’t staying.
* * * *
After finally getting in touch with Mr. Niven, Jenna risked pneumonia by taking a cold shower in a tiny bathtub, while breakfast was a meagre offering of sugary tea with a side of soggy buttered toast.
When she met her hapless assistant at the train station, Jenna was groggy and felt a nasty migraine brewing. He was nice enough, she supposed, with tortoiseshell glasses and a head full of frizzy curls. But since she hadn’t slept well and hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee, Jenna was feeling bitchier than usual. The poor boy wisely decided to keep his distance while he debriefed her.
“I’m Marcus by the way,” he said cordially.
Jenna winced and offered her hand. “Jenna.”
He smiled, revealing a set of dimples in his soft cheeks. “Well, is it normal for Carl to send a newbie all by herself?”
“I’m not a newbie,” she grumbled, too tired to defend herself. “I helped with the Waverly Hills investigation.”
“Oh...?”
“Later,” Jenna said irritably. “What have you got on Blackmoor?”
“Well,” he began, pulling a folder from his bag. “The last investigation didn’t turn up much. And the last tenant won’t talk to me.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Though I tried.”
“What happened?”
“It was a group from Wales. A few tourists decided to tag along. You know, amateurs.”
“Yeah.”
“They went in and ran out ten minutes later.”
Jenna couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Ten minutes, huh?”
Marcus nodded, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. “They have footage. But it’s mostly a lot of screaming and running about. Not much. No EVP’s either.”
“That’s a shame.” Jenna glanced out the window, stifling a yawn. “So where are we staying?”
“I booked us a couple of rooms at the local inn. And a Mr. McKendrick will be waiting to accompany us as well.”
“That’s a relief. I thought I was going to be all alone.”
Marcus shook his head. “He won’t be staying with us for the investigation. He’s only driving us up. After that, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
Jenna laughed again. He sounded like he was going to Disneyland. “Eager to get your ass handed to you by Casper, huh?”
He grinned. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get into Blackmoor. This will make or break my career.”
She nodded. “You and me both.” Jenna glanced at his bag. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat, would you?”
Marcus pulled out some cheese crackers. “Will these do?”
Snatching them greedily, Jenna popped one into her mouth and smiled. “I think you’ll do, Mr. Niven.”
They napped for the remainder of their journey and arrived in the midst of a raging thunderstorm. Jenna shivered and pulled her sweater closer about her, wishing she’d had the foresight to pack a coat. Carl had been nice enough to relay weather information for July. Marcus was unperturbed and simply covered his head with a newspaper as he ushered her into the station.
Jenna shook off the rain while Marcus went to see about their cab. Soon they were crammed into the backseat while the driver jerked and raced his way through the countryside in an attempt to make it home in time for dinner. After he dumped them alongside a swollen bog, Jenna gave him the finger, and the old bastard just laughed.
Cursing under their breath, they hoofed it across two lanes of traffic and collapsed in a muddy heap. “I hate that man,” Jenna said bitterly. “So much for English hospitality.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” Marcus said, helping her up. “We’ll eat and get some sleep. Tomorrow we go to Blackmoor.”
“Good.”
After a lukewarm supper of roast beef and potatoes, Jenna took a long soak in a hot bath. Despite the warm weather, she felt cold and donned her sweats. She was in bed by eight and was relieved when Marcus knocked on her door the next morning.
For some reason she could not explain, she was eager to get to Blackmoor. She could feel it calling to her.
Mr. McKendrick, the castle’s caretaker, arrived the next morning. He was a sharp-faced man who walked with a noticeable slump. Jenna felt nauseous when he took her hand but she shook the feeling off. This whole trip was making her tense. Mr McKendrick drove as a steady drizzle blighted the windshield. Twice the wheels stuck in the mud and poor Marcus had to get out and push the car. Jenna silently vowed to murder Carl as the boy began sneezing and she handed him a tissue.
“So,” Mr. McKendrick said. “What are two nice kids like yourselves doing here abouts?”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “We just wanted to see what everyone was talking about. I mean it is the happening place to be, right?”
He laughed, struggling with the transmission. “That’s right. But I got to tell you it’s not the best place to be at night. Are you sure you two know what you’re doing?”
Marcus sneezed again. “We do,” he sniffed. “We’ll be perfectly safe.”
The man didn’t look convinced and muttered something about kids today. “Well, I don’t want it on me head when you go missing. It happens sometimes.” He began chuckling to himself and Jenna felt that same nausea slowly creep back.
“Just drive, Mr. McKendrick. We’ll do the rest.”
He let them out at a quarter to four with a warning. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he told them, fetching their equipment. “Whatever you do, stay out of the blue room.”
“Blue room?” Jenna repeated. “Why?”
“Just stay the bloody hell out of it,” the man barked, “if you know what’s good for you!” With that ringing in their ears, Mr. McKendrick jumped into his car and left Jenna and Marcus outside in the rain.
“Geez,” Jenna grumbled. “What’s with him?”
“Don’t let him get to you,” Marcus laughed. “Let’s get this stuff inside.”
“Sure.” She glanced up at the imposing derelict and felt a thrill of excitement slither up her spine. Jenna could have sworn she saw someone peering down from a window. “I thought he said this place was deserted.”
“It is,” Marcus said, frowning. “Why?”
“Because I just saw someone upstairs.” Jenna held her breath, hope rose in her chest as she remembered the dreams she had had on the plane.
Marcus eyed her warily, and they began the arduous task of hauling in their equipment. “That’s the last of it,” Jenna wheezed finally, collapsing onto a duffle bag. Marcus nodded and proceeded to unpack and set up the video monitors.
“We should put a camera in the kitchen and the rear staircase.”
“And the third floor master bedroom,” Jenna reminded him. “Don’t forget about Lady Balen and her unfortunate head.”
“Eww,” Marcus grimaced. “I forgot.” He handed her a camera. “You set it up. I’m afraid of heights.”
“Sure you are.” Jenna sighed and eyed the long, winding staircase with dread. “If I’m not back in an hour, send a search party.”
“Ha-ha,” he tossed back. “Very funny. Get going.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jenna began the slow trek up the crumbling relic, and as she neared the top, felt she was being watched. “That’s right,” she murmured. “Keep watching.” she added a sexy swing to her hips as she continued mounting the stairs.
Somewhere she thought she heard the deep rumbling of a man’s laughter. But it was easily dismissed when she reached the landing. Jenna ignored the hairs prickling at the base of her neck and set up the camera. After that task was completed, she decided to explore a bit and hoped to capture a few EVP’s.
“Marcus,” she said into her radio. “I’m going to have a look around.”
“Okay,” his voice crackled back. “I’m almost done setting up the monitors. Check back in ten minutes.”
“Alright.” Jenna tightened her grip on the radio, investigating the first room she came to.
The extraordinarily handsome man’s portrait hung in the corner and Jenna slowly walked up to it, taking in every detail. “Very handsome,” she whispered to herself.
It was a full-length portrait. The types nobility usually sat for in the 18
th
century. “Maxim Ravencroft,” she read. Jenna was taken aback by the intensity of his eyes. They were his most striking feature. Glittering jewels of blue topaz, they seemed to follow her every move. His face was simply beautiful. That was the only word Jenna could conjure to describe the god before her. Max was garbed in riding attire, a shock of thick black hair waving from an equally splendid brow. His nose was straight in its aristocratic delineation and flared slightly with arrogance.
And what about his mouth?
Jenna’s breath caught slightly at the full sensuality of his lips and found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Jenna fell back on the massive four-poster bed and her breath caught in her throat. She felt a presence near her. “Is there anyone here?” called out softly. “If you’re here, say something.”
Jenna, suddenly remembering her job, picked up the radio off the bed and noticed the batteries completely drained. “Well, that’s what I get for buying wholesale.” Jenna flung it aside in frustration wondering if she should quit while she was ahead.
A temporary lull in the storm brought a minor reprieve, but just as quickly, the rain returned with a vengeance. She shook her radio thinking the batteries would magically come to life “Marcus,” she called into the radio. “Marcus, how’re you doing?”
A man’s terrified scream broke the stillness. “Marcus?” she shouted, tearing out of the bedroom and clambering downstairs just in time to see her assistant yank the door open with a look of sheer terror on his face. “Marcus! What is it?”
He didn’t answer as he stumbled outside in the pouring rain, tripping and splashing into a pool of mud. Marcus shook it off and fled down the road, leaving Jenna bereft and utterly alone.