Here’s the fourth part of a story I’ve been working on set in the Ghost Punchers world. (If you haven’t read the previous parts, you can catch up here.)
Carly slid open the van door and approached the man in the suit. She walked slowly, her hands visible, speaking low and gentle as if approaching a strange dog.
“Good morning, sir. My name’s Carly and these are my friends. Gabrielle Deyes sent us?”
The old man blinked like she’d just roused him from the world’s most fascinating daydream. “Ah…” he said. “Yes… Ms. Deyes. She said you’d be coming.”
Relief rippled over her. She knew the guy was alive, but it was good to have confirmation.
“So do you… work here?”
“Oh yes. I’ve been the butler and house manager here for the past ten years. James Appleby, at your service.”
He held out a pale, withered hand. Carly shook it. His skin was thin and powdery, but the muscles beneath it were stronger than she’d expected.
“Have your friends park around the back and I’ll give you the tour.”
—
“So you’re saying the place is definitely haunted?” asked Carly.
“Oh, certainly. I’ve seen things. Doors slamming shut on their own. Electronics turning themselves on. And I hear whispers and laughing from empty rooms — even the sound of a horse once, galloping down the upstairs hallway in the middle of the night.”
Todd turned to Mayhew, eyes wide. He mouthed the words, “Ghost horse” and grinned. Mayhew ignored him.
“But they’ve never been so… aggressive as they have been recently?” he asked.
“No, no, nothing like the past few weeks. Our guest — that’s what I call it — has been content with startling me every now and then — I’m not sure it’s even doing it on purpose. But now…
“Last month, Mr. Hawkins stepped onto a cold spot and couldn’t move. Totally paralyzed, he said. Couldn’t even call out. Could barely breath. Just frozen there, watching his breath turn to steam, until the thing let him go.
“And just last week, the china in the hall cabinet hurled itself at him. I’m afraid it cut him up pretty good. He needed stitches. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s when Ms. Reyes decided to call in the experts — that is, you folks.”
Carly and Mayhew looked at each other. Carly cocked an eyebrow. Mayhew nodded.
“It sounds personal,” said Carly. “Do you have any idea why?”
“No idea,” said Appleby. “Unless it has something to do with Mr. Hawkins’ rave parties in the secret sub-basement.”
