Page 29 of Possessed By Shadows

“Is it black mold?” Micah asked, sounding muffled under the mask.

“Maybe?” My dad answered. “Group coming out tomorrow to look at it, but we need all the junk out to get it treated. Not much junk left on the lower level, most of the crap is in the attic.”

Micah added the goggles to his gear. I followed his lead, as did Sky, before we made our way down the hall.

In the light of day, the house was not as ominous, though the small closed off rooms still made it feel claustrophobic. The door to the murder room, as I thought of it, was closed and a sign on the door said not to enter. Beyond that was the back of the kitchen, a sort of pantry area, and the door that led down a flight of rickety stairs into the darkness.

The smell hit me before we started down, through the mask; must and mold, intense enough to make my eyes water. “Move fast,” Micah said. “Once the basement’s done, we’ll bag the gloves and get new ones for upstairs. I can wash these.”

A dozen spotlights had been set up to help illuminate the space, but nothing could really brighten it. It felt dark, dank, and closed off. The bits of stuff really were broken pieces of something unidentifiable. Thankfully nothing really appeared to be scary things like chains or torture equipment. Though why I was expecting those things, I didn’t know. Likely due to some story Micah had told me once upon a time. New Orleans had a lot of weird history.

There were enough people now to form a line, handing junk off instead of going all the way up the stairs and out. We added ourselves to the end of the line, working to keep away from the walls, which were covered in mold, white and black.

Clearing the space took only a few minutes. Twice I tensed as I saw something move that didn’t quite look like a shadow of one of the people helping. But since nothing seemed to penetrate the floodlights and get close, I tried to relax. It felt like any basement, closed in, dirty, and a bit claustrophobic, but not overtly haunted. Was that the effect of daylight, number of people, or perhaps the basement not having much supernatural energy? I didn’t really want to know.

“That’s it,” someone ahead of us in the line called as a handful of pieces passed by. “Everyone, head back up.”

We marched out, going all the way outside where Micah made us strip off the gloves and masks, putting them in a plastic bag and tying it shut. We’d have to get new stuff to go upstairs, but I hoped there would be less mold up there.

“Is this all his ghost crew?” I asked Micah, wondering at the numbers. There were guys guarding the dumpster, people inside on the cameras, and the rest of us moving around unloading. There hadn’t been this many on the last ghost hunt that had left me in a mental ward.

“It’s his full crew,” Micah said. “Most of them sort of rotate through places rather than all show up at one. It attracts all kinds,” he added as a group of what appeared to be frat boys passed us while chatting to a handful of bearded, tattooed guys with biker T-shirts.

“So you’re in charge of this rabble?”

He shrugged, still tired, and grumpy. He never really was at his best until after one in the afternoon. I suspected that was due to the often middle of the night screams that kept him from solid sleep. Even on the rare quiet night we had, it was hard to catch up on lost rest.

My dad stepped outside, looked around, and then headed our way. Internally, I groaned. I’d sort of hoped I could fly under the radar, help out, and then leave. But he was laser focused, which made my gut twist in knots. He’d had a few days to look through the mess of my life. I couldn’t imagine it meant good things for me.

“I’d like to speak to you upstairs,” he said.

“Is it clear, or do we need masks in that part of the house?” Micah asked, not bothering to combat whether he was coming with or not.

“It’s clean, and clear. Second floor, toward the front of the house, left side. Lukas’s rooms.”

Fuck. Was this more murder board stuff?

My dad’s gaze speared me with something unspoken, but intense. He turned and headed back inside. I looked at Micah, hoping he had an idea for escape, but it was Sky who followed first, her shoulders tight, hands clenched into fists.

“Sky,” I said, stalking after her.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Whatever it is, will be fine.”

I could think of a hundred things that would not be fine. But we returned to the house, the feeling of being enclosed in the small rooms intensifying when I crossed the threshold. Not an artificial feeling of narrow spaces and lots of walls, I realized, but something actually oppressive. Odd. Maybe it was like the tingling Micah felt. I’d bring it up later when we weren’t barreling toward whatever nightmare my brother might have gotten himself into.

The second floor actually appeared livable. The floor was solid, clean, though it could probably use a sanding and some lacquer. The walls seemed to be freshly painted, at least in the hallway. And the door to the bathroom was open. That too, while looking a bit dated, appeared clean and usable. I remembered the stain below, and suspect it had been from this bathroom. Likely fixed since the ceiling had been dry.

Beyond the bathroom was a set of two doors, one on each side. Sky went to the one on the left, though the one on the right was open too. That room appeared to be a bedroom of some sort, set up with an air mattress and a handful of other things. Like Lukas had been living here instead of going home to his place.

“I’m going to kill him,” I said. For abandoning Sky and treating her like this. If he didn’t want her, the least he could do was be straight about it.

Sky said nothing. Micah whistled.

The room on the left was a computer nerd’s haven. Filled with a dozen giant monitors, sound equipment, and expensive computers. The fact that my dad seemed to know how to work any of it, surprised me.

“This is insane,” I said.

My dad sat down at the computer and typed something in. A moment later the monitors all popped up like one giant screen. I feared it would replay that moment with the creepy doll and he would demand that I explain what the fuck his kids were into, but that wasn’t what came up.