Page 12 of Rattling Bone (OutFoxing the Paranormal #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What’s the plan, boss?” Chris asked, dipping a fry into ketchup.

They’d retreated to the diner to eat what amounted to a combination lunch and dinner, since afterward they planned to return to the distillery. Oscar had been unusually quiet ever since they’d left Sharon Griffith’s house, his eyes dark with contemplation.

“I’m not certain I’m ready to accept the existence of curses,” Nigel said carefully.

Tina looked at him as if he was insane. “Then how do you explain people dying like clockwork every twenty-five years?”

“It isn’t like clockwork,” Nigel objected. “None of them have died on the same day, at least.”

“Oh my god.” She shook her head in exasperation and stole a fry off of Chris’s plate.

Fine, maybe he was being a bit overly pedantic. “Ms. Griffith wants us to look for a ghost. Vengeful ghosts are different than curses.”

“Which ghost? Where can we find it?” Tina countered.

“I don’t know yet,” Nigel snapped. “The answer might be in the Corbett letters held by the library. We need to look there.”

“The library isn’t open on Fridays,” Oscar said. “It’ll have to be tomorrow.”

Nigel looked aghast. “Not open on Fridays?”

“Or Thursdays—didn’t you read the hours when we went in?” Oscar asked. “The county doesn’t have a lot of money, Nigel; services get cut.”

“Oh.” Nigel looked faintly embarrassed. “I suppose I’m used to city libraries.”

Oscar pushed away his barely touched plate. “For tonight, we stick to the original plan. I’ll call my parents and tell them we’re hanging out with Josh. We go to the distillery, set up our command center, retrieve the memory cards from the cameras, and review the footage. Then tonight, after it’s dark, we go in and investigate. With luck, we’ll figure out who was behind the curse tonight and won’t even need the letters. If we can locate their grave, maybe we can do something to stop it.”

“Like what?” Tina asked.

“I don’t know! Hold a seance, figure out what their grudge is. Salt the grave?” Oscar sat back, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll call Dr. Lawson and see if she has any advice,” Nigel said.

Chris finished the last of their fries. “Be right back; I’m going to take the last chance to pee somewhere that isn’t a camp toilet.”

“Good idea,” Tina said, pushing back her chair.

When they were gone, Nigel turned to Oscar. He slid one hand onto Oscar’s knee and squeezed gently. “You didn’t eat much. Are you all right?”

“I’m not, no.” Oscar sat back and put his hand over Nigel’s. “Obviously I’m getting more worried the closer we get to the end of the year. But that’s not all of it. Listening to Miss Sharon made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. I had this whole heritage, maybe unique to Appalachia or even to the family, and it’s just…lost.”

Nigel tried to imagine what that might be like. His knew very little about his own family; his dad had taken off before he was even in kindergarten. As for his mom’s side, the family had a rotating roster of grudges, which meant that at any given time half of his relatives weren’t on speaking terms with the other half. Easier to just stay away and stay out of drama that didn’t have anything to do with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish things were different.”

“So do I.” Oscar’s mouth tightened. “I know my dad and papaw were doing what they thought best. I understand they were afraid and traumatized. But right now, I’m glad we’re not going home tonight. I’m not sure what I might say if I had to face Dad over the dinner table.”

* * *

While Oscar and the others settled up inside the diner, Nigel stepped out onto the sidewalk. The cold air bit at his face, and he moved close to the brick wall to shield himself from the wind.

Dr. Lawson answered on the second ring. “Taylor? What’s wrong?”

“Maybe I just wanted to wish you a belated Merry Christmas,” he said, a little stung by the implication he only called when he needed something. “Or an early Happy New Year.”

“You already sent a card,” she replied, clearly not buying it. “And you’re supposed to be out of town with Fox. Ergo, something has happened, and you need my help.”

Nigel’s sigh turned into a puff of steam in the frigid air. “I wanted to see if you had any advice for us.”

She listened silently while he filled her in on the situation. When he finished, she said, “My advice is to get the hell out of there. If Fox is worried about his dad, take him with you.”

“Scott wouldn’t come. He won’t even talk about ghosts, or his mother, or anything of the sort. The only reason he hasn’t thrown us out of the house is because we’ve been as sneaky as possible.” He paused. “And distance might not help.”

“All of the deaths you’ve told me about are tied to the distillery and happened on its property,” she countered. “Or at least very close to it.”

“Oscar won’t take that chance with his dad.” Nigel put a finger in his ear as a truck in desperate need of a new muffler rattled past. “And I won’t take that chance with Oscar.”

“No, I suppose not.” Her tone softened. “In that case, my advice is to find out what grudge this ghost has against the family. If you can figure that out, hopefully you can move it along.”

“We’ll try. Do you have any advice about sending it to the other side if it doesn’t want to go?”

“Oscar managed well enough with that killer at the Matthews house.”

“This situation is a little different,” he pointed out, trying not to snap.

“True enough. If you find out where its body is buried, dirt from its grave would give Oscar an edge when trying to command it.”

“Which means we need a name, so we can try to find a grave.”

“Ask the ghosts at the distillery. Assuming they know. Otherwise, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Damn it. “Thanks anyway.”

Dr. Lawson seemed to hesitate a moment, then asked, “Have you told Patricia about this?”

He thought about lying, but what would be the point? “Yes. We needed equipment, and she bought and shipped it to us.”

“Of course she did,” Dr. Lawson muttered. “Be careful, Taylor. Whatever is in that distillery sounds truly nasty. You’re going to have to work to keep your boyfriend safe.”

“I’m going to insist on every precaution I can think of,” he reassured her.

“I hope it’s enough. Goodbye, Taylor. And good luck.”

* * *

Once they arrived at the distillery, Chris retrieved the memory cards and batteries from the cameras, while the rest of them set up a temporary command center in the parking lot beside the van.

“You didn’t hesitate to ask Ms. Montague for anything, did you?” Oscar asked as they unpacked their equipment.

Nigel shrugged. “She’s rich, and probably expensing all of this to one of her businesses anyway. I don’t see any reason not to take advantage.”

They set up a large, cabin-style tent, where Tina would monitor their activities throughout the night. It included a folding table for the laptop and equipment to set up a local wireless network. A small heater, three camp chairs, and a self-inflating air mattress took up most of the remaining space.

Chris returned with the cards and batteries. “The place continues to be creepy as fuck,” they reported, plugging in the batteries. “The battery on the catwalk was totally drained, by the way.”

“The salt circle didn’t work—too many holes in the grate,” Oscar guessed.

“I’ll start reviewing footage,” Tina said.

Chris stretched out on the air mattress. “I’m taking a nap before the fun starts.”

Oscar was too keyed-up to even consider sleeping. “Nigel, you should rest, too; there’s plenty of space in the van now.”

Nigel picked up a blanket and eyed him warily. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.” Oscar stepped out of the tent and turned to the hillside above them, where the cloven oak loomed. How old was it? How many secrets had it seen, and what could it tell them if it could talk?

Nigel followed him out and zipped up the tent behind them. Then he put a hand on Oscar’s arm, tugging him toward the van. “You’re not going off on your own,” he said firmly.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Good.” Nigel slid open the side door and gestured Oscar in, then climbed in after him. “If we snuggle, we won’t have to start the van and get the heat running.”

“Look at you, saving gas,” Oscar teased, stretching one arm out along the back of the seat.

Nigel tucked himself against his side. “Just thinking about the environment,” he said, before kissing Oscar.

They made out for a little while; it was nice to be out of everyone’s sight for a bit. After a few minutes, Nigel glanced at the closed tent—then let his hand brush across the front of Oscar’s pants. He was already hard from their make-out session, and Nigel flashed him a wicked grin. “You know, I’ve never had sex in a vehicle.”

Oscar’s heart beat fast, and his blood sang. “First time for everything.”

They kissed fiercely, then Nigel shucked off his boots, pants, and underwear. He draped the blanket over them, either to keep warm or to shield them from view in the off-hand chance someone came out of the tent.

Oscar had already pulled out his cock. Nigel straddled him, then slid down, hot, wet, and ready.

It was quick and hungry, Nigel doing all the work, their arms wrapped around each other. Oscar murmured endearments, until Nigel kissed him hard. Then it was all heat and tongues and slick movement, until Nigel groaned and clenched around him. Oscar took that as his signal to let control slip, closing his eyes involuntarily as his hips came almost off the seat.

They clung to one another for a few moments, breath mingling. Then Nigel slid free with a satisfied sound. “I’ll nap better after that.”

“I’m just a sleep aid to you,” Oscar said with a dramatic hand to his forehead. “Toss me a wipe, will you?”

The van was well-stocked with supplies, including wipes meant to take care of some of the grime from poking around filthy old buildings. They worked just fine in this case as well.

Nigel pulled on his clothes, tucked himself against Oscar with the blanket secured over them, and promptly fell asleep. Oscar leaned his head against the cold glass of the window and drifted a while himself, fading in and out.

Someone knocked on the window. Oscar jerked to full wakefulness, surprised to see the sun had disappeared behind the western mountains.

Chris peered in the window. “Time to get moving,” they said. “Tina’s found something.”

* * *

Nigel stood behind Tina’s chair, while Chris and Oscar sat to either side of her. His nerves thrummed with anticipation, all relaxation from the afternoon’s activities evaporated in an instant.

It had been nice, though. Nigel allowed himself a private smile. Sleeping together in the same room as Chris had been a bit frustrating, so he hadn’t been about to pass up the chance for a quick bit of fun.

“The night vision camera in the spring house didn’t pick up anything,” Tina said as she pulled up the clips she’d selected to show them. “So unless something changes, we probably don’t need to spend any more time there.”

“Of course; it was nicest part of the place,” Chris said. “You ever think we’re in the wrong line of work?”

Tina shushed them, before clicking one of the clips into full screen. “This is from the thermal cam in the distilling room,” she said, unnecessarily in Nigel’s opinion, since the picture was in blues and purples. “About an hour after full dark, this happened.”

An even darker blob of blue appeared just to the edge of the camera’s view. Then it suddenly flew outward, curving down toward the floor far below.

Like a man falling to his death.

“It repeats twice, roughly every hour.” Tina fast forwarded, then stopped. The cold spot went through the same motions without variation that Nigel could see. “The batteries were draining faster than they should have the whole time, and ran out of juice after that.”

Nigel pursed his lips. “So what remains of Jeff might just be a repeater, not a true incorporeal personal agency.”

“You mean an intelligent haunting?” Oscar asked.

Nigel’s cheeks warmed; sometimes the scientific jargon slipped out even when he didn’t mean it to. “Yes. As opposed to whatever repeaters are.”

Chris looked over their shoulder at him. “What do you mean? I thought they were just, you know, echoes. One moment in time, repeating mindlessly over and over again.”

“Maybe?” Nigel spread his hands. “There hasn’t been any real scientific study of them. We know some ghosts react to people—intelligent hauntings, as Oscar said. And others don’t seem to have any awareness at all, condemned to reenact a specific scenario over and over again without variation. But that doesn’t tell us what they are. Does the physical world act like a recorder in certain circumstances, replaying a single tape until it finally degrades into nothingness? Or is a fragment of the original personality still caught here, while the rest has moved on?”

“Or,” Oscar said uncertainly, “could they be a full person—an incorporeal personal agency—so caught up in a moment of trauma they can’t escape?”

Tina shuddered. “That’s awful.”

“Most people don’t think that’s the case…but again, where is the proof?” Nigel met Oscar’s troubled gaze. “Either way, we should be able to cleanse the area, whether that means erasing the tape or giving Jeff Corbett the final nudge he needs to move on.”

“At least there’s that.” Oscar turned back to the monitor. “What else have you got for us, Tina?”

“That was the most consistently active location,” she said, minimizing the clip and bringing up another one. The switching hall appeared in colorless night vision. “The powerhouse seemed quiet for most of the night, so quiet I almost missed the one thing that did happen.”

She zoomed in, the picture going grainy. “See this moth?” she asked, pointing at what looked like a blob of lighter color to Nigel. “Now watch.”

The moth flitted around as the clip played. For a few seconds, nothing happened—then a curl of smoke rose from its tiny body. A moment later, the moth had vanished, and only drifting smoke remained.

“What the fuck?” Chris exclaimed, leaning in closer.

Nigel’s pulse thumped at the base of his throat. “We’re absolutely certain there’s no power to any of the equipment?”

“That turbine has been cold for years,” Tina said, twisting around to face him. “And there’s no outside power running to the facility.”

“The spirit of a man who died by electrocution just burned a moth to ash on camera. After burning Tina’s fingertip yesterday.” Nigel folded his arms around himself, feeling a cold that had nothing to do with the outside temperature. “We have to be very, very careful not to feed it any more energy than we have to.”

Chris looked alarmed. “You think it could do the same thing to us?” they asked nervously.

“It would take a lot more to kill us than it would a moth,” Oscar pointed out.

Tina held up her bandaged finger. “That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.”

“No, you’re right.” Oscar scowled at the swirl of smoke on the paused video. “Fuck. We’re going to have to try and talk to him; he’s strong enough to communicate if he wants to. He might be our best chance at finding out what’s going on here.”

Nigel wanted to argue, but bit it back. This wasn’t just any investigation; this was Oscar trying to keep himself and his father safe. “Then when we go in, we need as much salt as we can carry. Our strongest flashlights.” He ran his hands through his hair. “If only there was some way to add moisture to the air…perhaps a fog machine?”

Oscar stood up and put his hands on Nigel’s shoulders. “Which we don’t have. Calm down, love. We’re going to be careful.”

“If you can convince him you’re one of the family, it might help.” Nigel dropped his arms. “That would be a good idea in any case. They might be more inclined to answer you during an EVP session, or anything else that becomes necessary.”

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Nigel didn’t answer. The sheer strength of the ghost, to be able to burn a moth to ashes…and that was only using whatever ambient energy was in the powerhouse, plus anything it might have been able to syphon from them when they walked through the day before.

No matter Oscar’s assurances, it worried him. A lot.

“Moving on,” Tina said, minimizing the clip and bringing up another. This image showed the outside of several buildings, including the distilling building and aging warehouse.

Oscar leaned over her. “We picked something up outside?”

“Mostly cute animals.” She pointed to a pair of glowing, ghostly eyes that was soon joined by another, and another. “A small herd of deer passed through, probably heading down to the creek to get a drink.”

“They’re a lot cuter during the day,” Chris muttered.

Tina fast forwarded a bit, then slowed the clip to half speed. “Right here.”

An indistinct orb floated into view from the direction of the creek. It moved across the screen toward the aging warehouse and disappeared.

“Can we see that again, this time at normal speed?” Nigel asked.

Tina replayed the clip; the orb drifted at a steady pace through the view, before vanishing.

He shook his head uncertainly. “Orb evidence can be shaky at best. Most of the time, so-called orbs are just dust.”

“I agree, it isn’t compelling on its own.” Tina replaced the clip with one that showed only pitch black, interrupted by the green dots of the laser grid. “The activity inside the aging warehouse began roughly around three a.m.”

For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then one of the dots disappeared along the edge of the grid, followed by more as something crossed into it.

Chris let out a long, low whistle. “This is amazing.” Then they winced. “Sorry, Oscar, I know these are your ancestors.”

Oscar put a hand on their shoulder. “You’re right, it is amazing, the evidence we’re getting after just one night. I wouldn’t be much of a ghost hunter if I didn’t agree.”

“Keep watching,” Tina said.

The shape moved back and forth, as if pacing. Then it stopped near one edge of the grid.

A second shape appeared opposite.

“Wait, what is that?” Nigel pushed his glasses higher on his nose, as if that would somehow help clarify the situation.

Both shapes remained still for what felt like forever, though it was only measured in seconds on the time stamp. Then, at the same moment, they vanished.

“That’s all for the night,” Tina said, pausing the video. “But I checked the time stamps of this video against the one from the outside camera. The orb vanishes beside the aging warehouse, and a figure appears inside immediately after.”

Chris looked up. “What does that mean, though?”

Nigel wished they’d had a wider angle shot of the outside, something that would tell them more about where the second apparition had come from. “It means a fourth spirit is lingering in the area,” he said, meeting Oscar’s gaze. “And, for unknown reasons, it decided to pay a visit to Ivan Corbett.”