The Shape of Night(66)

Kim is first through the doorway. She climbs only two steps and abruptly halts, her hand frozen on the banister.

    “What’s wrong?” says Maeve.

Kim stares up at the top of the stairs and says softly, “What’s up there?”

“Just the turret,” I tell her.

Kim takes a breath. And takes another step. It’s clear she does not want to ascend, but she keeps climbing. As I follow the others, I think of the nights I so eagerly climbed these same stairs with the captain leading me by the hand. I remember silk skirts swishing at my legs and candlelight flickering above and my heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited me behind those velvet curtains. Ben touches my arm and I flinch in surprise.

“They’re putting on quite a show,” he whispers.

“I think she really does sense something.”

“Or maybe they just know how to amp up the drama. What do you really know about these people, Ava? Do you actually believe them?”

“At this point, I’m ready to turn to anyone who can give me answers.”

“Even if they’re frauds?”

“We’ve come this far. Please, let’s just hear them out.”

We climb the last steps into the turret and watch as Kim paces to the center of the room, where she suddenly stops. Her head tilts up as if she’s listening for whispers from beyond the curtain that divides the living from the dead. Todd’s camera is still rolling and I can see the blinking record light.

Kim takes a deep breath, releases it. Slowly she turns toward the window and stares out at the widow’s walk. “Something terrible happened here. In this room,” she says softly.

“What do you see?” Maeve asks.

“It’s not clear to me yet. It’s just an echo. Like the outer ripples after you’ve cast a stone into water. It’s the lingering trace of what she felt.”

“She?” Maeve turns to me and I know we’re both thinking of Aurora Sherbrooke, who died in this turret. How long did she lie here, still alive? Did she cry out for help, try to drag herself to the stairs? When you keep your friends and family at arm’s length, when you cut yourself off from the world, this is your punishment: to die alone and unnoticed, your body left to decompose.

    “I feel her fear,” whispers Kim. “She knows what’s about to happen, but no one can help her. No one can save her. She is all alone in this room. With him.”

Captain Brodie?

Kim turns to us, her face alarmingly pale. “There’s evil here. Something powerful, something dangerous. I can’t stay in this house. I can’t.” She bolts for the stairway and we hear her footsteps thump down the stairs in a panicked tattoo.

Slowly Todd lowers the camera from his shoulder. “What the hell just happened, Maeve?”

Maeve shakes her head, bewildered. “I have no idea.”



* * *



—

Maeve sits at my kitchen table, her hand trembling as she lifts a teacup to her mouth and takes a sip.

“I’ve worked with Kim for years and this is the first time she’s ever walked away from an assignment. Whatever happened up there in the turret must have left powerful traces. Even if it’s just a residual haunting, the emotions are still there, trapped in that space.”

“What do you mean by a residual haunting?” Ben asks. Unlike everyone else, he appears unmoved by what we witnessed in the turret, and he stands apart from us, leaning against the kitchen counter. As always, the detached observer. “Is that the same thing as a ghost?”

“Not exactly,” explains Maeve. “It’s more like an echo left over from a terrible event. Powerful emotions triggered by that event get trapped in the place where it happened. Fear, anguish, grief—they can all linger in a house for years, even centuries, and sometimes the living can feel them, the way Kim did. Whatever happened upstairs left its mark inside that turret and the incident continues to play and replay, like an old video recording. Plus, I noticed the roof is slate.”

    “What does that have to do with anything?” Ben asks.

“Buildings with slate or iron or stone are more likely to retain those distant echoes.” She looks up at the decorative tin ceiling in the kitchen. “This house almost seems designed to hold on to memories and strong emotions. They’re still here, and people like Kim can feel them.”

“What about people who aren’t sensitive, like me?” says Ben. “I have to say, I’ve never experienced anything paranormal. Why don’t I feel anything?”

“You’re like most people, who live their lives unaware of the hidden energies all around us. Colorblind people never see the brilliant red of a cardinal. They don’t know what they’re missing, the way you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Maybe I’m better off that way,” Ben concedes. “After seeing how Kim reacted, I’d rather not see any ghosts.”

Maeve looks down at her teacup and says quietly: “A ghost, at least, would be harmless.”

The thump of an aluminum case hitting the floor makes me snap straight in my chair. I turn to see Evan, who’s just walked into the house with the last of their equipment.

“You want the A camera set up in the turret, right?” he asks Maeve.