Chapter Eleven
By Nelson
Warning: This one has a lot of ghostly activity, a wee bit of gore – but not much. A lot of your questions are answered in this chapter. I hope it gets you in the mood for Halloween!
The whirlwind of activity came to an abrupt halt as soon as Riley demanded it stop. The invisible ties holding Colin prisoner obeyed Riley, releasing Colin as quickly as they had restrained him. As soon as Colin realized he could move once again, he sprang from the chair, trampling littered papers to get to Riley and clutched him tightly, oblivious of his own fears, to calm Riley of any he might have.
"Colin!" Riley exclaimed, gripping Colin protectively, unconcerned about himself. "Are you ok?"
He pulled away and tenderly stroked the reddened handprint visible on Colin's right cheek. "My God, Colin," Riley said with worry.
"I'm ok," Colin replied shakily. He cupped Riley's still-damp face in his hands. "Are you?"
Riley nodded and pulled Colin to him again. "I'll be ok. I'm more worried about you."
"I'll be ok," Colin tried to assure him.
Meanwhile, Colin's mind whirled as tumultuously as the tornado in the office while he held Riley tightly. What the hell just happened? Rationality soared out of the formerly trembling office windows. Nothing rational could explain this one away. No drafts, no dreams, just the unexplained. He scanned the room in wonder at the papers and books strewn carelessly about the floor. All of them inanimate objects that had no way to move on their own, but had ended up far from their usual resting places as though flung away by unseen hands.
"I understand," Colin said simply.
Riley raised his head from Colin's shoulder and looked at him. "What?" he asked, blinking in surprise.
"I said, I understand. I know why you feel the way you do."
"You believe me?"
"I never said I didn't believe you," Colin corrected. "I just didn't see it the way you did. I could explain it before. Now, I can't. I can't explain this."
Riley stared at Colin in disbelief. "You mean…?"
"This is *not* normal, not what just happened."
Riley touched the side of Colin's face sadly. "I'm sorry you got hurt."
"I'll be ok," Colin assured him. "It really shock—"
His words were cut off as the strains of a song chimed through the closed office door, echoing eerily in the high-ceilinged rooms of the house.
"What is that?" Riley asked. "It sounds like a clock."
"It's the Westminster chimes," Colin confirmed distractedly as the music continued.
Their eyes locked. "We don't have a clock that plays the Westminster chimes," Riley pointed out.
They bolted to the office door and swung it open as the delicate chords played on. Riley looked around in fascination as they stepped into a world that was familiar, yet strange, their hallway transformed to a time of long ago. The surroundings he was used to were veiled by surreal images he hadn't seen before - watery unstable images that burned like a dim light, lacking the needed energy to manifest opaquely.
Riley was drawn to the source of the music and admired the clock across the hall from him. The grandfather clock stood ornately in the wide entryway on clawfeet of carved mahogany. Fantastic etched moldings adorned the clock, softening any edges that might otherwise appear hard and coarse. A row of leaves danced around the molding just under the gold face of the clock, their pointed tips directing the eye toward the time. As the Westminster chorus came to an end, the chimes pealed the time, falling silent after two bells.
Riley took in the rest of what he was seeing, studying the changes closely to record every detail he observed, his fascination both piqued and appeased, leaving him with more questions as he obtained new information. The simple cream-colored walls were now overlaid with richly designed paisley wallpaper sporting a background of dark colonial blue and highlighted with peach roses intertwining the paisley print as though on a trellis. The modern-day light fixtures were replaced with age-old sconces, adorned with scrolling gold-tone leaves kissing the smoky glass globes, their top edges completed by soft, rippling edges.
Beside the grandfather clock, a beautiful walnut halltree stood in the corner adjacent to the front door, holding two hats belonging to the home's occupants of the day as well as two gray day coats, discarded and unnecessary for the time being. The images, while weak, were detailed enough that Riley could almost smell the fresh-cut flowers decorating the middle of the marble tabletop of the halltree. The delicate daisies accentuated the lovely handiwork of a woodcarver whose efforts would survive longer than he himself. The daisies reflected off the mirrored back of the halltree, which also captured the image of a portrait from across the hall of Samuel and James – a portrait Riley recognized from the trunk.
"Whoa," Riley breathed in awe.
Colin's heart rate raced as he looked around him, his protective instincts raging in overdrive. Once his frozen feet agreed to move, Colin yanked Riley with him in a death grip and headed hurriedly toward the door. "We have to get out of here!" he exclaimed.
"No! Colin, wait!" Riley protested, pulling against Colin's hold.
Colin came to a sudden stop when the deadbolt twisted before his eyes into a locked position, unaided by living hands. Colin stared mutely at the lock, unable to react immediately. Although he knew the door was bolted, he instinctively tugged at the doorknob then futilely wrenched at the deadbolt, vainly struggling to turn a latch that held tight as though cemented into place.
"Colin!" Riley called emphatically. "It isn't going to work. It *isn't* going to work!"
Colin stopped then stared at the lock, perplexed, and finally cast an uncertain look to Riley. "We're trapped," he defenselessly uttered.
"He wants us to see this. He has something to say." Colin's head dropped in defeat, overwhelmed and unsure. "It's ok. I don't think he means us any harm. Colin?"
Colin nodded shortly, reluctantly agreeing, while bracing himself psychologically for whatever lay in store for them. The fact was, he couldn't go anywhere whether he wanted to or not. He gathered strength from the depths of his soul and raised his head bravely. He was staying and facing this thing, whatever it was, and he vowed to himself that he would do everything in his mortal power not to let anything happen to Riley.
Colin silently gripped Riley's hand, a firm acknowledgement that all was stable even in this dubious reality and they turned together to face it, finding nothing had changed since they stepped into the hall. The walls seemed to shimmer, then shift from the old darker wallpaper to their new cream paint, then back again. The halltree faded into the wall to be replaced with their newer hall table only to flip back again to the past right before their eyes. The floors stayed the same varnished hardwood that they were used to seeing, save for a burgundy hall runner to match the scatter rug placed at some forgotten time in front of the door. The flooring at the foot of the stairs was curiously devoid of any blemish, including the persistent stain that they had lost the battle in removing, finally having to cover it in their own time with a small oriental rug.
Suddenly, hollow, angry voices drew Riley's attention to the top of the stairs, his eyes trailing over the bare wood risers as his focus lifted toward the sound. The hairs on Riley's neck stood tall as he saw two transparent figures he recognized step onto the stage of the upper landing, oblivious to their audience and caught up in replaying the past.
"It was *nothing*, James! You know I'm not interested in her! I'm not interested in *any* woman and you of all people should know that by now."
"The whole town is talking. Mrs. Morrisette has your wedding planned, for God's sake," James said through clenched teeth.
"People see what they want to see," Samuel said then added tersely, "brother."
"What do you suggest we tell people? We're partners in more than business? That we're * lovers*?"
Samuel's shoulders slumped. "I'm not blaming you. We decided together that we would be 'brothers' in the eyes of everyone else. But you *know* how I feel about you after all these years together. I have no intention of marrying Melissa." Samuel's hands balled into angry fists as he completed his sentence. "I consider myself married to *you*!"
"Then why would you flaunt yourself in a public luncheon with her? Knowing I might find out?" James asked painfully.
"I cannot argue this with you!" Samuel said, flinging his arms upward in surrender. "I have lunch with all manner of patrons and you know it!"
"But this one, Samuel. This one has stars in her eyes when she looks at you. And you *know* it! You make sport of it! Then get angry when I question it."
"I have nothing more to say," Samuel said coolly. "I'm going out."
"Out? You don't need to go out."
"I shall go if I want to," Samuel defied, turning on his heel to leave.
"Samuel! Do not walk away from me!" James demanded as he trailed Samuel down the stairs. He caught Samuel's wrist, stopping him in his trek toward the first floor.
"Let *go* of me!" Samuel exclaimed, wrenching his arm away from his lover.
As his arm was yanked free, his balance failed him, his feet grabbling for purchase on quickly passing risers. James cried out as Samuel tumbled roughly end over end from the top of the stairs to the bottom. A sickeningly wet thud followed the bouncing of Samuel's skull against the hard wooden floor as his body finally came to rest after its fitful descent to the first floor landing. Blood spread in a puddled halo under Samuel's head, staining deep into the wood flooring.
"NO!" James exclaimed as he ran down the stairs.
He crouched over the lifeless body and gingerly touched the unscathed side of Samuel's face. Heart-wrenching cries bellowed from the depths of his soul as he clutched the limp body to him as blood drained onto Samuel's right shoulder from the gash in his head that had taken his life. The bloodstains blossomed like deep red starbursts as they painted the right shoulder of the crisp white shirt Samuel wore.
"God, no!" James cried, kissing Samuel's face as he sought signs of life, but Samuel's cold fixed eyes had lost their soul as well as their focus, their flat mirrors reflecting nothing of the man he had been just moments before.
James cried anguished tears as he held the body of the man who had been his soulmate and lover, rocking him to sleep forever into eternity.
"I can't lose you. Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me. Please, no!" Tears swallowed the pained words just as the fall had stolen a soul, leaving James to sob wordlessly as he gripped the lifeless form to his chest.
Colin couldn't tear his eyes away from what he was seeing or block out what he was hearing, the sheer pained cries of a love lost, a partner whisked into eternity, cutting him to the bone. A lethal accident born of a senseless argument. The hollow sobs of the disembodied actor in this play from long ago sent ice trickling down Colin's back, and goosebumps sprang up as the agonizing cries rang out in the hall.
The scene before them cracked, allowing a bit of the present day to slip through the façade before shifting back to the past. As the vision stabilized once again, the body James held shimmered, then split, the spirit tearing away from the fleshly shell left behind in James' clutches. The pained spirit reached toward his living lover, his fingers no longer able to touch or feel, his voice unheard and swallowed by death. His face twisted as an agonizing realization dawned and he dropped to his knees as he found himself on the wrong side of the chasm between life and death. His mouth stretched open wide in a silent scream as a horrified expression crossed his features, while he knelt beside the corporeal part of his being, empty and soulless.
"Shit," Colin breathed, tightening his hold on Riley's hand.
Riley glanced at the antique clock still visible in the hallway and didn't blink at the time. It was no surprise to see the hands stopped at 2:05. He barely had a chance to register the time before the late 19th century décor began to shake and twist, dissolving back into the past and stealing the images of Samuel and James with it. The silenced screams left the house deathly quiet. The sun showering the hallway through the front windows illuminated the once again brightly painted hallway and chased away the remnants of the replayed scene they had just witnessed.
Colin was locked in place and his throat clicked as he swallowed. In a voice barely above a whisper, he broke the blaring silence. "What the hell was that?"
Riley licked his lips nervously and said, "History."
Colin's thudding heart gradually returned to normal and he glanced at Riley. "Forgive me if I'd rather read a book," Colin commented wryly.
"Not me," Riley said.
"You *liked* that?" Colin asked in surprise.
"Well, 'like' isn't exactly the right word. Fascinated, maybe?"
"Morbid fascination," Colin surmised.
"Maybe." Riley looked around the hall with his hands on his hips. Everything seemed back to normal, no lingering evidence of the past beyond the structure of the house itself. "I guess we know what happened to Samuel, now."
He walked over to the foot of the stairs and kicked away the small oriental rug they had placed there. He crouched down and ran his hand over the familiar stain in the wood, its rounded edges perfectly matching the bloody puddle he had just seen spreading under Samuel's head.
"God, put the rug back," Colin urged, his stomach clenching as nausea washed over him.
Riley glanced up at Colin with concern in his eyes. "Are you ok?"
Colin silently shook his head "no". "I can't believe what I just saw."
Riley looked down and reverently covered the spot again then went to Colin. "I'm getting used to it."
"I don't plan to get used to it. My heart can't take this crap. We have to get our house back."
"It was their house first," Riley pointed out.
"Well, we're the ones paying the mortgage on it and they need to leave unless they're willing to chip in. What do you think that was all about?" Colin searched the corners of the room, on alert and unwilling to let another spectral event catch him by surprise.
"Samuel said 'help'."
"How do you help a ghost?!" Colin said agitatedly. "We can't exactly invite him to dinner and ask."
"He died here and no one knows about it but us. I think he's buried in the basement, Colin."
"Great. Just great," Colin growled. "So what does he want us to do about it? Bury him somewhere else?"
"Would you want to be chucked off in a basement somewhere?"
Colin sighed. "No."
Riley shuddered remembering the death scene they had just witnessed. "He was so young."
"No wonder James killed himself," Colin noted sympathetically. "He must have felt so alone. And guilty."
"It wasn't his fault, though," Riley stated. "It was just an accident."
"Do you seriously think he told himself it wasn't his fault?"
Riley shook his head sadly. "No. I guess I'd blame myself, too."
"I still can't believe it," Colin said in disbelief. "This is just unreal."
"Colin?" Riley took Colin's hand. "I know you just spanked me for digging up the basement, but—"
"That was not the only reason."
"I know," Riley interjected, "but it *was* part of the reason. Do you still think I shouldn't have been digging?"
"I still think you had no business in the basement, and you couldn't have been digging down there without going where you were told not to be, so yes, I do still think you shouldn't have been digging," Colin said without hesitation, and Riley looked away dejectedly.
"But," Colin added reluctantly, "do I think there's something there to dig for? Yes."
Riley's head snapped up and his eyes were wide. "You believe he's buried in the basement, too?"
"At this point, I'll believe damn near anything," Colin confessed.
"What are we going to do then?"
Colin sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking expectantly toward the crown moldings for answers. He ran his hand through his short blond hair and shrugged.
"I don't know. Do you think John Edward would clear his calendar for us?"
Riley gave Colin a crooked grin. "I doubt it."
"Then," he said, searching for an answer then spreading his arms uncertainly. "I guess we'd better go finish what you started."
Riley smiled victoriously then led the way through the living room, diligently searching as he passed through for any other signs Samuel might be flashing. The house remained eerily quiet after the hair-raising display, which was almost more unsettling than the earlier scene.
When they got to the kitchen, Colin stopped and asked, "Do you want to wash your face?"
Riley's nose was still stuffy and his face sticky from crying, but he didn't want to stop. "I'll be ok. I'd rather get back to the basement."
"Something to drink?" Colin offered, wanting as much normalcy as possible.
Riley stood looking at the basement door, finding it wide open once again. "I think someone wants us to hurry into the basement."
Colin pursed his lips when he noticed what Riley was looking at. Being manipulated by an unseen soul had gone from unnerving to simply fucking annoying. "He's waited a hundred years. He can wait for me to get a bottle of water out of the fridge," Colin declared pointedly.
Colin grabbed two bottles and tossed one to Riley who caught it single-handedly in mid-air. "Thanks."
"I doubt this ever happened," Colin mused as they went downstairs, "but I'd be willing to bet Samuel could have used a swatting on occasion. That argument never would have gone far enough for Samuel to stalk off had they been in a relationship like ours."
"Yeah. I think you're right about their relationship by the way he reacted when I got in trouble. He didn't understand it."
Colin touched his cheek, remembering the vehemence the spirit showed when Riley was being punished. "No kidding."
Riley pulled the string on the light once again and looked around at the mess he had made earlier. Small craters covered the floor where he had made minimal progress.
"Um—," Riley paused. "I'm thinking we should dig right there. What do you think?"
Colin stepped down onto the dirt floor beside Riley, a single tear-shaped object catching his eye in the center of the room. The damn planchette again! Colin was willing to bet it marked the spot of an impromptu burial plot.
"I think Samuel has a way of making a point. He went from dropping subtle hints to you to flashing neon signs."
"That's the truth." Raising an accusatory voice directed to the empty basement, he said, "You could have shown me this earlier, Samuel."
"God, don't piss him off," Colin begged quickly. "He might answer you."
"Sorry. I didn't get very far," Riley pointed out as he passed the shovel to Colin. "I couldn't use the shovel because I was afraid of jumping on it with my ankle."
"That was about the only good decision you made today. You wouldn't sit for a week if you re-injured your ankle messing around down here, even if I had to take you to Timbuktu to get it done without being assaulted."
Riley kicked the planchette out of the way with his good foot. "I really don't think Samuel meant to hurt you."
Colin positioned the shovel over the spot that the planchette had been indicating. "Believe me. He meant it."
"He didn't understand."
Colin grunted as he put his weight against the uppermost edge of the shovel but the hard ground barely gave an inch. "Oh, he understood," Colin contradicted. "He understood he wanted me to stop."
"I mean he didn't understand what you were doing. Us. Here, let me hit it with this a couple of times to loosen the dirt."
"No, let me do it," Colin said, taking the pick from his reluctant partner. "You've been at this enough today."
"I can help."
"I don't have any doubt that you *can*," Colin said. "But I said no. I want you to have a break. You've had a busy day. Why don't you sit on the steps for a little while?"
Riley grimaced at the thought of sitting on the wooden stairs and unconsciously rubbed his backside. "I think I'll stand and watch."
Colin nodded his understanding and then nailed the pick into the dirt, feeling the topmost layer of earth crack as the pointed tip pierced the stubborn surface.
"Anyway," Riley continued, "Samuel doesn't understand the discipline part of our relationship. I think he was trying to protect me or something."
"If he does it again, I'm going to see if I can find a way to talk to James and explain how a discipline relationship works," Colin quipped. "It might be too late on this side of eternity but I could give him a tip or two for the other side."
"I'm sure Samuel would appreciate that," Riley commented sarcastically.
Colin chuckled and said, "I think he might even show his appreciation by throwing the desk at me next time instead of a book or two if James listened to me."
His muscles flexed as he swung the pick again, making more progress than the first time. Switching to the shovel, he dug into the earth and was able to turn over a scoopful.
"Is it getting easier?" Riley asked hopefully.
"Yeah. It's like I had to get the top layer off or something."
The small hole where Colin started began to grow deeper and wider as he continued to work. Riley looked on in fascination, eager eyes searching every new depth for any sign that a body might be there.
"I feel like we're on TV or something," he said.
"Yeah," Colin agreed as he swiped his forearm across his sweaty face. "Candid Camera."
He chunked the shovel back into the ground and felt resistance in the looser soil below the hard surface and his heart almost stopped.
"I hit something," he reported.
"What?! What is it?!" Riley asked excitedly as he stooped down for a better look. "We need better light in here," he complained.
Colin moved the shovel and Riley brushed away the dirt with his hands. He frowned as his hand grazed across the surface of a rock
"Damn." He dug out the rock and tossed it aside then stood, brushing his hands together. "Nothing."
"I don't know whether to be relieved or not," Colin said, digging the shovel in again.
After finding the fourth rock, Riley was starting to believe maybe they were digging in the wrong place.
"Where is he!" he barked in frustration as he threw another rock out of the way. "Maybe we need to move to a different spot."
"You think so?" Colin asked. "The planchette was right here and I know it was across the room when I found you earlier. Doesn't that mean something?"
Riley shook his head. "I don't know."
"Let me dig a little farther," Colin recommended.
He pushed the shovel into the ground again, coming up empty of even a rock. He continued on, losing heart a little more with each unfruitful inch.
"Stop pacing," he demanded as Riley passed by once again.
"I can't help it."
Colin pushed the shovel into the loosen soil once again. "I think I hit something."
"Probably another stupid rock," Riley said disgustedly, but he stared at the shovel regardless.
Dirt crumbled away when Colin lifted up the shovelful of earth and he stopped stock-still as bone-white skeletal fingers reached out toward him.
"Shit," Colin barely breathed.
Riley squatted eagerly next to the hole and gazed in awe at the boney hand, the wrist still shrouded in the tattered threadbare remains of a once-white cotton shirt. The cuff had several brown spots of blood still visible, darkened from its original red by time and oxygen. What was left of the cuff was held closed by a familiar piece of jewelry, the flat surface of a cufflink etched with shamrocks.
Riley glanced over at an incredulous Colin who wordlessly knelt beside him for a closer look.
"Cool," Riley said with a grin.
TBC
