southern ghost hunters 01 - southern spirits (15 page)

But what kind, I had no idea.

Images flickered into focus all around me. I saw baskets of corn and carrots near the base of the wooden ladder. A nearby shelf held several cloudy glass jars of Tuttle's Elixir: Special Veterinary Horse Liniment. Hay littered the stone floor. Ghostly lanterns cast shadows along the century-old brick walls.

I adjusted my bag over my shoulder. The clanking of its contents sounded as loud as a brass band in this otherworldly place. 

I had to find a way out of there. Every instinct I had screamed for me to claw my way out of this haunted hole, back the way I came. 

But I couldn't go back. The only choice was forward.

Hollow, ghostly gunshots echoed from above.

Frankie swore. "Die, you bastard!"

The door creaked closed.

The intruder was inside.

I breathed in the stark bitterness of decay as I pressed deeper into the cellar, past the horse feed and toward an arched doorway on the far left wall.

Maybe I could find some kind of weapon down here and pull it into my dimension, just like I had done with Josephine's locket. Of course that necklace had also disappeared rather quickly.

The air felt heavier in here, the room still as a tomb.

Rough-hewn wooden shelves clung near the walls, stocked with jars put up for the winter. Only instead of peas and carrots, tomatoes and pickled onions, I saw rot. It muddied the glass in shades of muted gray and black. 

A pitiful cry rose up behind me, stiffening the hairs on the back of my neck. I spun to face human attackers, a ghost, I didn't know what. 

The corridor stood empty. 

The shelves to my right flickered as I heard another hollow cry. "Help me." It echoed. A woman wept.

Oh geez. "It's okay," I said, low under my breath. "Everything's fine."

I wasn't sure if I was talking to the ghost or to myself. 

It didn't matter. We both needed to get a grip. I was one freaky encounter away from melting into a shivering puddle on the floor. 

Footsteps echoed directly above my head.

"Help me," the watery voice called.

I forced my voice, at least, to remain calm. "Where are you?"

No response.

I saw no other exits to this room, no weapons, no new places to hide. If I didn't find something soon, I could be in a lot of trouble. The colonel had certainly been hiding something down here. Perhaps the cellar held a secret door. I touched the brick wall at the back of the room. It felt smooth with age, cold. Solid. 

I turned to the shelves lining both walls. Perhaps I'd missed something in the first room. 

Then I spied a large piece of weathered plywood, flush with the left wall. I hadn't noticed it before, not with the putrid jars in the way. But now that I gave it a second look, I could see it was real.

Black dirt lay in clumps around the bottom. Fresh dirt, if I wasn't mistaken.

The colonel had been especially angry about
digging
.

Oh my God. Was this where the intruder was headed? My neck flushed and I broke out into a cold sweat. 

Maybe not. Maybe this was the way out. I searched for a space between the jars, one big enough for my hand. If I could knock the wood away and see…

The ring on the cellar door clanked.

Please let it be a ghost.

I rubbed my palms on my jeans and reached out, to the left of a jar of brackish sludge, between that and the one with the round globules. I closed my eyes and stretched up to the shoulder, my fingers barely touching the edge of the rough lumber. Tiny splinters pierced my fingertips as I squeezed a little farther around the back of the panel. I held my breath and tipped it just so…

The board fell forward and I jumped back. It whooshed straight through the unearthly illusion, tearing it apart in a rush of prickling energy and dust. The grit made my eyes water. 

The board hit the stone floor with a resounding thud. I slammed my eyes shut and prayed that the intruder hadn't heard.

The footsteps stopped directly above my hiding place.

Chapter Twelve

In front of me stood a narrow passageway, brick lined and as tall as I was. The silver light didn't penetrate more than a foot or two inside. This could be my escape.

Or the trap that would corner me.

Either way, it was the only place left to hide. Heart pounding, I reached for my flashlight.

It occurred to me that no one knew I was down here. Not my mom, nor my sister. Certainly not Ellis, although he might eventually figure it out. My only link to the outside world was Frankie, and he couldn't talk to anyone I knew, nobody alive at least. If I became trapped, there would be no one to rescue me. 

My light flickered against the walls, casting its beam a few feet ahead. Beyond that, pitch darkness.

I counted each stride I made. Five steps in. Ten.

A pile of crumbling dirt and rock brought me up short.

This was the end of the line for me. The trap door to the cellar creaked open. I'd run out of time.

Panic seized me. They were coming. And here I stood in the very place where the intruder was likely to go. I hurried out of the tunnel, each step feeling like ten. I needed to move faster, step lighter. I slipped on a fallen rock and my shoulder hit the side of the tunnel hard.

A ghostly wail echoed behind me and I doubled my efforts. 

I ran faster than a hot knife through butter and burst out into the empty underground room. 

The fallen board had dislodged the ghostly illusions. I had no shelves to hide behind, no jars. Not that anyone would even see them, except for me. I passed through the arched doorway and found falling-apart wooden whiskey crates, some red and white rusted-out signs advertising Southern Spirits, and a whole lot of dirt. None of it had been there before. It seemed a new ghost now held sway over the cellar. My breath caught in my throat. It could be the poltergeist.

The hard beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness directly in front of me, scattering light around the room. I cringed and sank back against the wall and prayed that Ellis wasn't too far, that I could hold out long enough. With every cell in my body I tried to be invisible.

"Verity," Ellis called from above. His voice sounded clipped, worried. I'd never been so glad to hear from him in all my life.

"Ellis!" I burst from my hiding place into the bright beam of his light from above. 

He let out a huff. "What are you doing?" he asked, not half as relieved to see me as I was to find him.

I climbed the ladder fast as a whip. He placed the light on the floor and helped me out of the cellar. He never looked so good, so right and strong as he wrapped an arm around my back and steadied me.

Maybe I had a damsel in distress complex or maybe the sheer adrenaline of the night had gotten to me, but in that moment, I could have kissed him.

I surprised him with a monster hug instead. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." I clung to him. He felt so good. Smelled good. So warm. So
real
.

"I—" He began, trailing off. I was hugging him too long. 

I didn't care.

But I was a little surprised when I pulled a few inches away and realized he was still hugging me back. 

I gave him a squeeze. "I'm really glad it was you." 

He dropped his hands like I was on fire. 

I hadn't meant anything by it, but just that fast, we'd lost our moment. He rubbed at the back of his neck, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. For a split second, I wondered what would have happened if I had kissed him. Scandal, no doubt.

I almost wished I had kissed him. It's not like this night could get any stranger. Besides, the man looked amazing in uniform.

"Stay here," he said, bringing a hand down to the Glock on his gun belt, as if to remind him who he was. "I'm going to check out the property."

Oh, no. "Not without me." 

I could tell he wanted to argue, but he stopped himself. Yes, I was a liability and I'd probably slow him down, but we both understood that I didn't want to be alone. 

"He came through the side door," Ellis said, straightening. "Kicked it right in." We made our way over there and Ellis frowned as he inspected the broken metal. "I should have gone for new locks, and not kept the antique hardware."

"You wanted to do right by the building," I said. He couldn't know the old locks would break so easily.

"Should have done right by you," he said under his breath.

I followed Ellis outside as he shone a light down onto the brick patio. 

"He stopped the car out front," I said, following Ellis along the side of the carriage house, careful to step only where he stepped. "Then moved around here to the side." We shone our lights on the cracked and broken asphalt, looking for tire tracks. 

We found nothing.

"I think it was a lone intruder," I told him, as we headed up the steps, trusting that Frankie had gotten it right.

Ellis nodded. "I saw him slide in the driver's side and take off down the road as I pulled up. I called it in, but so far none of our other units have spotted the car. He had the license plate covered with cardboard and left fast."

He'd come to check on me instead of chasing the person who trespassed on his land? "You didn't try to follow," I said, surprised. Ellis wasn't the type to let go easily.

He let out a huff, his expression impossible to read. "I needed to make sure you were okay."

 "Thanks." That I hadn't expected. I wasn't sure what else to say. "So inside here is safe?" I asked, pausing outside the door.

He opened it for me. "Stay alert, but I think so." He glanced down the road, as if that would trace them. "Did he see you?"

"Yes. He got a look at my face and everything." The headlights had shone directly on me.

He swore under his breath. "I've got to be more careful with you."

"Okay," I said, not exactly sure how he planned to accomplish that. In fact, now that the adrenaline had begun to wear off, I found I didn't have the energy to say much more. I was tired of being alone in this place, and more than a little relieved to have him here. He'd surprised me tonight by being supportive and brave and on my side. It felt good, even if it set me off course a bit. I realized I was shaking. My bag slipped off my shoulder. "Damn it," I said, reaching down to grab it.

"Let go." He eased my bag out of my grip, placing it down on the steps, "It's all right. I'm here." 

I gazed down toward the main road, afraid of the vulnerability he'd see if I faced him.

"Look at me." The beam from his Mag-Lite illuminated the porch. His expression was earnest, his tone sincere. "Tell me what happened." 

"He drove straight up the drive, as if he didn't expect anyone to be here." Of course, my presence hadn't stopped him. "I didn't get a good description. I'm sorry." I let Ellis hold me by the shoulders as I explained, the warmth of him seeping into me, giving me strength. I told him how I'd decided to head down into the cellar, and how scared I'd been.

He not only listened, but I could tell he really thought about everything I told him. It seemed Ellis wasn't the type to do things halfway. I don't know why I expected less, except that his brother had been very, very different.

"We'll check the inside, but it sounds like our intruder is long gone," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry to put you through this," he said, his hand warming my cheek as it lingered there. "I shouldn't have left you here by yourself."

"You didn't know," I told him. None of us could have anticipated this.

But he held firm, refusing to abdicate responsibility. "This property, it's strange. You hear things. You sometimes see them out of the corner of your eye. Or at least you swear you do." He stopped for a moment, his expression softening. "I was anxious to get you started tonight. Our talk at your place didn't do anything to calm me down, either." At my snort, he added, "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry. I should have been more cautious."

"Apology accepted," I said lightly." The truth was, I'd needed to hear that. Badly. Ellis and I may never be friends, but we didn't need to be at odds all the time. "Believe it or not, some good has come of this." I tilted my chin down. "When I was hiding in the cellar, I found a hidden passageway."

He hesitated. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's a tunnel," I clarified. "Or at least the beginning of one. There's a bunch of loose dirt, as if someone's been digging down there. I think it's what has the ghosts worked up. I'd hoped it was you."

A muscle in his cheek jumped. "Son of a bitch." He pulled away from me. "I haven't been down there since we bought the property." He glanced in the direction of the trap door. "It's not the most practical space, so it wasn't a high priority." He thought for a moment. "Maybe we should take another look."

"Oh, joy," I said, as he headed inside, and motioned for me to follow. 

He either missed my sarcasm…or ignored it. "When we're done with renovations, the cellar opening will be behind the wine bar. I'd thought about using it to store a few bottles."

He placed his flashlight on the floor and forced the door open. I found myself cringing as he shone his light into the hole. He noticed. Not a lot got past Ellis Wydell. He braced a hand on his knee. "Are you up for another trip underground? If you can manage, I'd like for you to show me what you saw."

"Only for you," I said, surprised that I meant it.

His gaze lingered on me. "Before we go down, I'll secure the building. Just in case our visitor decides to come back." 

"Great," I said, as if that would make it better.

Cold air seeped from the open trapdoor as he locked the carriage house doors, and double checked a lock on a door in the back. Then he dragged a heavy construction saw to block the side door. "Best I can do," he said, breathing heavy as he stepped away from it.

A chill swept over me and I had the distinct feeling weren't alone. "Colonel?" I called softly.