Page 36
Story: Ghosts of Averoigne
“I think she died, but the baby grew up without her. Someone else took care of it. Maybe the grandfather.”
Jeremy stroked her hair absently. “Maybe that’s why she was screaming.”
Kara pulled back to look at him. “What?”
“The child,” he said. “Her baby grew up, her baby left. And she stayed here. Or rather—”
“She’s stuck here.” The realization crept over her in a wave of sorrow and dread. It was more than just a theory. Kara felt it.
“Yes.”
“That’s why she’s angry,” said Kara. “She never got to raise her child. Something happened and they were parted. Never to be together again.”
Jeremy drew in a heavy breath. “Not even… after?”
“No,” said Kara. “And only because she’s stuck here.” She looked up at him, her expression drawn with certainty. “She can’t leave the hotel. Can’t pass on to wherever her child already has.”
They stood in the room for another minute or two, holding onto each other. It was so absolutely silent Kara could only hear the ringing in her ears.
“You’re still shaking.”
“I always shake after it happens to me,” Kara said. “You’ve seen me like this before. Lots of times.”
“Not this bad though.”
His hands were warm against her skin. As good as it felt, she felt the sudden need to be out of the room.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Kara.
“You read my mind.”
They turned to leave, Jeremy once again moving aside to let her go first. Just before they knelt down though, he stopped.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Look at this.”
On a table near the crib, a silver candelabra sprouted four tapered candles. Jeremy picked it up and blew the dust off it — a terrible mistake.
“Why the—” Kara coughed, “—the hell would you do—”
“Kara look!”
He held the candelabra out with one hand so she could see it. With the other, he held his phone’s flashlight over it.
“What exactly am I looking for?”
Jeremy tapped one of the candles with the tip of his finger. Kara rotated it in its holder, and then suddenly…
“The symbol!”
Etched into the candle was the same triangular symbol they’d seen earlier: the one in Rudolph Northrop’s ritualistic photograph.
“Think it’s the same one?”
“Has to be,” said Jeremy. “But c’mon. Let’s get it out into the light and check.”
They backtracked through the maintenance closet, this time without a touchy-feely incident. Jeremy rolled the mop bucket back inside and closed the door.
Together they slipped back into Kara’s room. Once again in the daylight, things took on a whole different perspective.
Table of Contents
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