Almost as if it was waiting for us.
It probably is.
“So now what?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Take out the EMF meter,” he says, keeping the camera focused on the blood.
“For what? Proof? There’s blood. That’s proof.”
“Just do it.”
I grumble, fishing it out and flicking it on. The meter beeps, immediately shooting up to level four, going orange. Even though I figured it would go off, it still gives me the creeps. I quickly turn the volume down, since the beeping isn’t going anywhere.
Dex turns the camera on me now as I hold the meter.
“So what do you want to do?” he asks. A beat passes, darkness coming over his eyes. “Someone is inside the bathroom.”
Motherfucking chills run through me.
I try to shake it off, knowing I’m being filmed. “We don’t have to go in there,” I tell him.
“But his mother might be in there.”
“How did she die again?”
“Harry said she drowned.”
I look down at the bloody water. “Uh huh.” I look at the door. Part of me wants to open it, wants to go inside, but that feeling comes from a black place inside me, that sense of being compelled. I’m not sure I trust it. “Maybe we should save that for last.”
“For last?”
“We can always communicate with her right here. There’s blood. We’re at level four. She can hear us.” I pause. “She’s watching us.”
Or maybe a lot of them are watching us. We were standing right here last time when the lights went on for a second, showcasing a range of dead people in the house with us. Were they there just because it was Samhain? Or are they here all the time?
More chills. My nerves already feel shot.
“Okay,” Dex says, adjusting his camera on the door. “How do you want to do this? Want to say something?”
“Me?”
“Yeah you,” he says. “You’re the ghost whisperer.”
“Why am I the ghost whisperer?”
“You have the boobs,” he says, referencing Jennifer Love Hewitt. “And ghosts don’t like talking to me. They know I’m an asshole.”
He’s right, but still…I have no idea what I’m doing. Which is kind of funny, considering all the encounters we’ve had, but we’ve never purposely tried to draw something out. Things always just…happened. In fact, I think if we just stand here long enough, she’ll probably show herself.
But I guess this isn’t EIT. If we’re supposed to be paranormal investigators, we have to put in the effort now. It gives me just the faintest bit of respite to know that in this version, we’re the ones controlling this thing.
“Okay,” I say, taking in a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.” I clear my throat. “Samantha Poe? Can you hear us?”
The EMF meter keeps beeping at a steady rate, holding orange. God help us when and if it goes to red.
I glance at Dex, who is both watching me intently and listening.
I don’t hear anything.
“Maybe I should turn this off completely,” I tell him, and just as I say that, the meter swings down to zero, green.
I gulp. “Did you do that, Samantha? Did you turn that off?”
The meter goes to orange in a flash, then disappears again, the sound spiking through me, my heartbeats skipping.
Jesus.
“Looks like we have contact,” Dex says quietly. “Makes we wonder if we should have invested in one of those spirit boxes.”
“We never needed one before,” I tell him. But if I’m only communicating with Samantha through energy frequencies, I’m not sure how far this will take us.
“Ask her if she’ll show herself to us,” Dex whispers to me.
“What? No.” I don’t want her appearing to us if she doesn’t want to. Actually, I’d rather her stay where she is.
“Then ask her if she wants to talk.”
“You ask her,” I whisper back. “She can hear the both of us.”
Dex holds my gaze. I can hear him think, just do it.
Bossy.
I take in another deep breath and close my eyes, trying to channel my energy through the door. “Samantha, do you want to talk to us?”
The EMF remains low. Both Dex and I listen hard as I absently watch the dust motes dance in front of the beams of light, the black of the rest of the house seeming darker than ever.
Then Dex frowns, raises a finger at me, and leans in close to the door, as if he can hear something faint on the other side, something I can’t hear.
He blinks and then turns his head to look at me and—
KNOCK KNOCK.
The door rattles on its hinges.
Both Dex and I scream in unison, jumping back from the door. I immediately duck behind him, hands gripping his jacket, peering over his side at the door that has gone silent.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, breathless. “Did you get that?”
He nods, keeping me behind him.
Holy fuck.
Whatever is in that room is a physical being.
Something strong.
And I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to match it.
“Samantha?” Dex asks, voice wavering. “Can you come out of there?”
“What are you doing?” I hiss, punching him in the side, feeling panic rise in my throat. “She can stay there!”
He ignores me, keeping the camera focused on the door. I suddenly have an image of what’s on the other side and it’s too gruesome to even entertain.
“Samantha?” he goes on.
The EMF climbs to orange again.
“We’re here on behalf of your husband.”
The EMF goes down to green.
“Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t want to talk to Harry?” I whisper to Dex.
He lifts his face off the viewfinder and glances down at me over his shoulder, the light causing deep shadows under his high cheekbones. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
He clears his throat. “Samantha?”
We wait. We listen. I’m prepared to hear the pounding on the door again.
But there’s nothing.
Except…
The low, drawn-out creak of a door opening, coming from down the hall.
Oh no no no.
While I keep the flashlight’s beam on the bathroom door, Dex shifts the camera light over, faintly illuminating a door at the end of the hall that’s slowly opening…
by itself.
Dex starts walking down the hall toward it.
“Where are you going?” I cry out urgently.
He doesn’t respond, just keeps walking.
I look back at the bathroom, the bloody water seeming to have stopped flowing for now, then quickly step over the stream, and hurry down the hall after Dex, feeling the darkness nip at my heels.
“Dex,” I whisper harshly, trying to catch up.
“Let me check it out first,” he says, putting his arm out to hold me back.
“That’s a first.” But I’m not arguing.
He steps inside the room and I keep the flashlight shined on him as he stops in the middle of it, looking around. “I think it’s just a study. I—”
Suddenly the door slams shut with a huge BANG that rattles my teeth, separating us.