Flipping Fates Read online

  I turn to her in surprise.

  Out of everyone in this group, Cecily is the last one I expected to give any validity to the paranormal.

  “There are theories that high EM levels can cause paranoia and hallucinations.” She folds a set of bedsheets as she speaks. “It might be a good idea to identify if the house presents a danger in that capacity.”

  In other words, Cecily is curious.

  I glance back at Aaron, who is smirking, on the verge of laughing out loud. He shrugs at me.

  “All right.” I say, shaking my head. “You can come in. But we probably need to go with you. There’s a lot of junk in this old place, and not everywhere is safe to walk.”

  “Not a problem.” Grant grins. “Thank you! It won’t take long.” He brings his bag inside and sets it on the floor under the front window. “And actually I don’t even need to go upstairs. I can just take some readings on the first floor and in the basement, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.” I nod. “Nathan, do you and Cecily want to go with him?”

  Nathan’s expression brightens. “Definitely!”

  Cecily doesn’t respond, but she moves to accompany them to the back of the house.

  Laurel comes to stand next to me as I set my hands on my hips and stare up into Aaron’s face.

  “A ghost hunter?” Laurel whispers, taking my arm. “Trisha—what?”

  Aaron chuckles. “He isn’t going to do any harm. Did you get a good look at him? I think he weighs 50 pounds, including the hardware he’s carrying.”

  “Aaron Guinness, are you saying you actually believe in this paranormal stuff?” I raise both my eyebrows.

  “Ghosts, no.” Aaron shook his head. “Spirits, yes. Spirits that a ghost hunter with a homemade radar and a five-dollar digital recorder can track down and talk to? No.”

  “Then why are we okay with letting him in?” I point to where I can hear Grant speaking toward the back of the house.

  “Are you scared, Trisha?” Aaron’s gaze softens.

  “Scared?” I scowl. “It’s not about being scared, Aaron. It’s about being smart. We don’t know this guy. He could be casing the joint.”

  Aaron snorted with laughter. “Casing the joint? What is this? A mobster movie?”

  “Aaron.” I poke him in the chest. “I’m serious. He could be here looking for something to steal.”

  “Yeah, because there’s so much valuable stuff around.” Aaron nudges a box full of burned-out lightbulbs with his boot. “I found a whole box of nothing but empty VHS cassette cases. No cassettes. Just the cases. I can guarantee, that’s worth all the trouble of pretending to be a ghost hunter so he can infiltrate our operation here.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Aaron takes my arm. “I do. But I’m saying that it isn’t going to hurt anything to let Grant do his thing, and we might make a friend. You never know.”

  “Plus this brings up a good opportunity to talk about ghosts and spirits.” Laurel pipes up. “We don’t talk about spiritual warfare very often at church.”

  I look at Laurel, and then I look at Aaron.

  “Okay, fine.” I raise my hands. “I just want to be clear that I think this is silly.”

  A shriek comes from the back of the house, and we all turn sharply.

  “That was Prisha,” I mutter.

  Aaron is already running.

  I knew this was a bad idea.

  Chasing Aaron through the dining room and the hallway that empties into the large common area at the back of the house, Laurel and I dodge boxes stacked on top of crates and rolls of carpet and towers of magazines.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Prisha is saying from somewhere ahead.

  I make it to the back room where Grant is standing, holding his little digital recorder out. Nathan looks alarmed, his mouth hanging open slightly, and Prisha clasps her face in her hands. Cecily looks—exactly the same.

  Nobody’s hurt. Nobody’s dying. And there doesn’t seem to be any large snakes or spiders crawling out of the mess on the floor. So it’s anybody’s guess what Prisha was screaming about.

  “What happened?” Laurel cries. “Is someone hurt?”

  Prisha, pale and trembling, turns her dark eyes on me.

  Grant blows out a slow breath and holds up his recorder. “I was just reviewing the audio I captured, and we heard something.”

  I fight the urge to groan. “Sure.”

  “It’s so scary, Trisha.” Prisha covers her mouth with her hands.

  “Let’s hear it.” Aaron steps forward.

  Grant presses the rewind button and then play, and the digital recorder pops and hisses for a moment before Grant’s own voice comes through.

  “My name is Grant, and I’m here to speak with you.” His tone is calm and collected. “Is there is anyone here who’d like to speak with me?”

  The pause after the question is tangible. The silence lasts longer than I’m personally comfortable with, broken only by the muted rushing sound of general interference on the recording.

  Then—a growling, hissing sort of noise.

  Prisha clenches her eyes shut, and Nathan goes a shade paler.

  Grant flashes me a confident smile, and I blink.

  “That was it?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “Didn’t you hear it?” Prisha is still hiding her face. “It was a voice.”

  “It was a noise.” I flap my hand.

  “There was no one talking, Trish.” Nathan sets his hand on Prisha’s shoulder. “Nobody was moving. And we didn’t hear anything like that while we were standing here. It’s only on the recording.”

  Grant holds up the recorder. “This is what we call EVP.”

  “EVP?”

  “Electronic Voice Phenomenon.” Grant rewinds the segment again and plays it back. “Digital recorders can sometimes pick up voices on frequencies we can’t hear with our ears.”

  On the recording, he speaks, and the growling snarl responds in the same unintelligible gibberish. Prisha throws her hands in the air and flees the room. Nathan goes with her.

  I glance at Laurel, who nods and pursues them both. Not that Nathan can’t calm Prisha down, but generally we discourage the guy members of our group from being one-on-one with the ladies.

  Cecily remains standing with her arms crossed.

  “Can you make out what the voice is saying?” Cecily asks.

  I gape at her. She isn’t seriously buying this. Is she?

  “It sounds to me,” Grant plays the recording again, listening with the device at his ear. “I think it’s saying, Get out.” He rewinds and plays it back once again, cranking the volume up so Aaron, Cecily, and I can hear it.

  The snarling comes across in exactly the same way as before.

  Gibberish.

  “I don’t hear it.” I shake my head.

  Aaron says nothing.

  Grant lowers the recorder and glances out the door. “Is your friend all right?”

  “She’ll be fine.” I press my lips together and then force a smile. “Well, that’s sort of exciting for you, isn’t it? You got a recording.”

  “I did!” Grant beams. “Could I do a quick sweep of the basement too? I’d hate to be here and not go down. The basement is supposed to be the most active area here.”

  Aaron shifts his weight.

  Finally.

  He’s starting to feel like this is weird. Why did it take him this long to recognize how weird this is? I thought he was smarter than that.

  But he doesn’t say no. He gestures over his shoulder, and Grant comes with him. Cecily follows too, and before I know what I’m doing I’m walking downstairs with them as well.

  After all, this is my project. I need to make sure that whoever this Grant guy actually is doesn’t cause a problem or take something that technically belongs to the Union Rescue Mission.

  Aaron has managed to get new lights in the basement, so it’s not nearly as creepy as it used to be. It’s just loaded with junk, li
ke the rest of the house.

  Grant lowers his recording and starts speaking to the air, as though the empty space will answer him back.

  He turns in a slow circle, his boots squeaking on the concrete floor.

  “I’m not sensing anything ominous down here,” he mutters.

  “Oh, you can sense ominous presences too?” I curl my lip.

  He smiles. “After you’ve been doing this for a while, you begin to pick up on signals. You can recognize the signs even if no spirits are talking.”

  “Right.”

  Grant glances at me and then looks at Aaron. “There are so many stories about this place. The most widely circulated one is that Old Mr. Barry—the guy who lived here—was into witchcraft and demon worship. People say he would hold wild ceremonies down here in the basement.”

  I scowl and look around the big room, so full of boxes, bins, crates, and shelves overflowing with junk that we can’t even move without bumping into something.

  “Yeah, because this is a great place to have a wild party.”

  Grant laughs and forges ahead into the basement, and he pauses when he sees the red door.

  This will be great. I smirk.

  Aaron and Cecily follow him into the doll room. Grant pauses on the threshold, scowling.

  “Wow,” he says. “I didn’t know Mr. Barry collected dolls.”

  I peer over Grant’s shoulder at the shelves of creepy glass-eyed dolls staring at us. “I don’t like them.”

  “Yeah, they’re—disturbing.” Grant tucks his recorder into his pocket and pulls out the other device, which he lowers. He holds it in front of himself as he walks into the room, and the little dial and the little LED lights on the top flash and flare and whine.

  “Lots of EMF in here.” He pauses at the shelves full of dolls, and the device in his hand squeals. “The dolls are getting a really big reaction.” Grant shakes his head and looks at me. “There’s something not right about them.”

  And he needed an obnoxious squealing plastic box to tell him that? I could have told him that just using my eyes. The dolls are wrong, but not because they’re haunted. They’re wrong because they’re ugly.

  Grant wanders around the room a bit more before he moves back into the larger area. Cecily follows him, listening intently.

  “Aaron.”

  Aaron looks down at me. “All right.” He offers a tired smile. “I think he’s leaving.”

  Shaking my head, I set my hands on my hips again. “Aaron, you’re not falling for this, are you?”

  “Ghosts? No. But there is something creepy about it.”

  “Aaron. Use your head.” I stare at the shelf of dolls.

  Aaron traces my gaze. “What are you thinking, Lee-Lee?”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  This is a very bad idea.

  I walk to the shelf and snatch one of the dolls. Dust from its skirt sprinkles on my arm. Its lifeless eyes stab into me with a hollow stare. The paleness of its porcelain skin is only broken by a poorly applied blush painted on its face, and this close I can see the imperfections in the lips and teeth.

  Why does a doll even have teeth?

  And, oh man, does it have real human hair? Please let it just be yarn that’s cleverly masquerading as real hair.

  “Trisha.”

  I spin to face him and hold up the doll. “I’m going to prove that this is just a doll.” I walk past him and head for the stairs.

  “Trisha,” he calls after me.

  I stomp up to the first floor and find my bag in the corner, shoving the doll inside and zipping it shut.

  Aaron comes up behind me and sets his hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing, Trisha?”

  “I’m taking it home.” I fold my arms and plaster a confident expression on my face. “I’ll show all of you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a doll. Just like this is just a house. No ghosts. No spirits. No disembodied voices.”

  Aaron’s warm smile makes his eyes sparkle. “Well, if you feel like you must.”

  “I must.” I flap my hand. “And I think Grant needs to go away.”

  Two loud footsteps announce Nathan’s return. He pokes his head into the dining room. “Hey, Trish.”

  “No.”

  His face falls. “I haven’t even asked.”

  “If it has to do with Grant, the answer is no.”

  Nathan juts his lips out.

  Is he pouting?

  He’s a grown man, for heaven’s sake.

  “What, Nathan?” Aaron chuckles.

  “Grant wants to give the RV a quick scan too,” Nathan says. “Since Old Man Barry died in the RV, he thinks it might have some residual negative energy in it.”

  Aaron shakes his head and digs the set of keys that Keith had left with him out of his pocket, tossing them to Nate. “Just a quick look, okay, Nate? Then we need to get back to work.”

  “Got it, boss!” Nate grinned and ducked out of sight.

  I let my nostrils flare at him. “This is a bad idea.”

  “Probably. But what can you do?” He pats my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see what Grant has to say, and then we can gently escort him to his car.”

  I sigh and allow Aaron to walk me to the front door and down the steps. “You’re much nicer than I am.”

  “Everybody knows that already.”

  We stop at the RV as Grant disappears inside. Cecily is still silent, arms folded, face clenched, watching with pure fascination. Nathan bounces on the balls of his feet, fidgeting and unsettled. He’s actually worried. Like, legitimately concerned.

  I don’t buy in to any of this ghost hunting stuff, but I guess I was naive to think that nobody else did.

  If nothing else, Grant’s little visit is showing me that we should make spiritual warfare a higher priority in Bible study.

  Laurel and Prisha are nowhere to be seen.

  As upset as Prisha was, she may not be back. And that’s something I won’t let Aaron live down. Sure, let the weirdo hipster ghost hunter into the house. It won’t hurt anything. He’ll play a creepy sounding non-voice that will scare Prisha so bad she doesn’t come back, so that means, Aaron Guinness, you get to clean out the nasty kitchen all by yourself. Because that’s what Prisha was doing. And I don’t care how good a kisser you are or how handsome you look with your sleeves rolled up or how much I really like it when you set your big hand on my waist, I’m not going to change my mind about being irritated at you.

  “Do you hear anything?” Nathan whispers.

  “Nathan, for Pete’s sake.” I drop my arms. “This is ridiculous. He’s been in there long enough.”

  Aaron sets his hand on my shoulder and starts toward the RV.

  And the whole vehicle shakes.

  Like some unseen force slammed into it.

  It rocks violently from one side to the other, and inside—Grant begins to scream like he’s being torn in two.

  Nice to Meet You, Herb

  Nathan starts to race into the RV, but he can’t get inside fast enough before Grant is scrambling to get out. He flings himself down the entry steps and whirls to shut the door as fast as he can, leaning heavily against it and gasping for breath.

  “What happened?” Nathan shouts. “What did you see?”

  Aaron, calm as always, takes Grant by the shoulder. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Grant gasps for breath, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. “Shadow figure. I saw a shadow figure in the RV.” He shakes himself. “It was evil. Pure evil. The RV needs to be moved.”

  I scowl at him.

  “Moved?”

  “Anything that’s happening at this house,” Grant points to the ugly orange monstrosity, “is happening because of this RV. Something evil happened inside.”

  I grind my teeth.

  Can we be done with this, please? We’ve wasted time we don’t have humoring this psychopath. He’s scared Prisha off. Nathan looks like he’s going to stroke out. I know
Aaron wanted to make a friend, but I don’t want to be friends with this guy. I want him to go away and never come back.

  Grant sinks to the driveway and crosses his legs, taking long, deep breaths. “I’m sorry.” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry. It just startled me. Let me gather myself for a moment.”

  “Yes, because that will make all this so much easier to believe.” I roll my eyes.

  “Trisha!” Nathan snaps at me.

  At long last, Aaron Guinness’s long-suffering eyebrow raises as he levels an unhappy glare at Nathan. Nathan starts to say something else, but whatever expression is on Aaron’s face convinces him to shut his mouth.

  Slowly, Grant stands up, and Aaron helps him.

  “Well, you’re all right now.” Aaron brushes some dirt off Grant’s shoulder. “And that’s probably all we have time for today.”

  “No.” Grant’s eyes go wide. “We can’t just leave it. It’ll get worse. You have to move the RV.” Grant pauses, pressing his hands together. “Look, I can help you with this. I want to help. The spirit in this vehicle—it’s evil. It’s just dark. It wants to hurt people. You can’t leave the RV parked here. The darkness from inside will seep into the house.” He takes a shaking breath. “It wants to hurt you. All of you.”

  I’ve had about enough.

  “And moving the RV will make it happy and not want to hurt people?” I cross my arms.

  “Moving the RV will protect all of you.” Grant fires back. “The vehicle needs to be purified. It needs to be cleansed. Only then will it be safe.”

  Aaron takes a long, slow breath. “Grant, thank you for your concern about all this. But for now the RV needs to stay here.”

  “Why?” Grant looks horrified. “Why would you take a chance with this? I know you’re skeptics. I get it. But it’s just an RV.”

  “The RV doesn’t belong to us.” Aaron says. “We can check with the owner about what he wants to do, but for now it needs to stay put.”

  Grant’s face dims.

  “Okay?” Aaron pats his shoulder.

  “At least let me burn some sage and attempt to purify it.”

  Aaron stammers.

  Nathan takes Aaron’s elbow. “Come on, man. It won’t hurt nothing. Just let the little dude do his thing.”

  On the sidelines, Cecily is still watching. She hasn’t said a word.