Page 46 of The Haunting of William Thorn

According to Edward, communing with the dead required a full belly.

Not that it mattered the first time they tried it, nor was William even the slightest bit hungry.

Edward didn’t notice that William hadn’t touched his eggs, not until he’d finished with his own plate and asked if he could polish off the rest. William agreed, glad his eating habits weren’t being scrutinised.

It was William’s request not to conduct the séance – if that’s what he could call it – in the bedroom again.

Separating church from state gave him some internal ease.

He’d rather the bedroom wasn’t spoiled by the potential of sinister energies, especially if Edward did leave, and William had to go back to dwelling alone.

“This is your house. You make the decisions,” Edward had said, to William’s displeasure. He would’ve preferred Edward still took control of the situation, but then again, it was his home. He had to start claiming it, especially since Edward could be leaving by the end of the day.

“What will help our chances of getting through… to them ?” William asked, mentally mapping out the floorplan he’d last seen online when he put his offer in for the property. “I mean, does it matter where we do it, or is there a place that will make the connection stronger?”

William would regret asking that question because not but ten minutes later, they were making room for them both to sit in the attic.

What better place to speak with the dead than where the dead became, well, dead ?

There was a noticeably different aura to the attic during the day.

The single, rounded window let in enough light to cut through the gloom of the room.

Dust motes danced in the beam, disturbed every time Edward swept through it.

He didn’t seem as uncomfortable as William felt as he moved boxes and chests out of the way.

The only objects he didn’t move were the chair and Teddy’s portrait, and that one upside-down crucifix they’d discovered during their first visit.

Opting to sit as far away from the solitary chair as possible, William took his place on the floor, crossing his legs and hugging his knees to his chest. That meant that Edward sat on the floor just in front the chair.

It wasn’t that William exactly knew that the chair had anything to do with Robert’s suicide, but the placement of it near the beam with the frayed rope still wrapped around it certainly painted a picture.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Edward asked as he, too, got himself comfortable on the floor. “It’s not too late to back out.”

“Nope. No backing out is allowed,” William replied, nervously scanning the attic space.

There were so many places for people to hide, let alone spirits.

He wondered if any watched on now or if they hibernated during the daytime.

He almost asked Edward, but he got into opening the board between them and cleansing the space with a quick prayer.

“There’s always time for consent, Will. Always.”

“Well, on that note, shouldn’t we have a plan of action or something?” William asked just as Edward lowered the back of his finger on the planchet.

His hesitation to copy wasn’t exactly a way to prolong beginning, but it certainly seemed as such. “I think you should try asking some questions first. It seemed to work last time. Whatever is lingering here seems connected to you, more than just having your name written on the manor’s deeds.”

“By seemed to work, do you mean the glass practically flew across the room?”

Edward swallowed hard, a sly smile creeping up the corner of his mouth. “Exactly. But this time, speak directly to the other side. Offer it your energy. Share it, and maybe that will be enough to make this work.”

“We don’t even know who it is communing with us.”

Robert Thomas, or Teddy Jones. Maybe those mysterious missing boys that Barbara mentioned.

Archie.

William was confident he saw Edward briefly glance behind him, even though he didn’t turn around.

Just the shift of his eyes was enough of a suggestion.

“Then that can be your first question. There’s only one person we know for certain of who died in Hanbury.

We both have a strong hunch about who is haunting your home.

Start with them, and then we can move on. ”

“As easy as that, eh?” William rolled his shoulders, shook his hands and slowly lowered his finger to the planchet. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Both men began shifting the glass around the board in a clockwise motion. Edward didn’t prompt William to start speaking; in fact, he gave him the moments he required to gather a scrap of confidence.

William couldn’t help but feel utterly stupid.

He hadn’t spoken yet because he was still toying with what to say.

Do you say hello to a ghost? He wasn’t sure if he should greet it normally or put on some mystical deep voice to encourage communication.

Ask about the weather? The thought of that last bit made him giggle slightly – not from humour but pure fear.

“Take your time,” Edward said, as if William wasn’t already doing just that. “You can’t rush perfection or something like that.”

“I got it,” William whispered more to himself than Edward. Then, he settled his entire focus on the board between them and addressed the dead. “Robert Thomas, are you here with us?”

The seconds passed slowly, each one counted by the slow beat of William’s heart. It seemed to fill his chest like a gong, even travelling into his skull and filling his ears with a persistent ringing.

But the planchet didn’t move – not beside the constant circular turning they both made.

Taking a deep breath in, William tried another question. “Is anyone here with us?”

Again, the glass didn’t move.

“Are you here?”

Nothing.

“Fuck sake, don’t be shy now–”

“Will,” Edward interrupted. “Maybe we keep the swearing to a minimum. Wouldn’t want to offend them, remember.”

“By them do you mean no-one?” William retorted. “Nothing is happening, Edward.”

“It will. Believe it, and it will happen.”

“Maybe you should try,” William said, head aching from the increased concentration. It turned out that moving a glass with your nail was strenuous work, as was focusing on conjuring God knows what.

Edward nodded, cleared his throat and then spoke up. “Robert Thomas, are you here with us?”

So, he was confident that it was Robert Thomas haunting Hanbury. Still, nothing happened, no lingering spirit responded.

Edward persisted. “Did you die in this room?”

It was subtle, but there was a shift. Edward had barely finished asking the question, and the glass was moving. The scratch of it against the wood made William’s skin crawl. He knew he wasn’t doing it, and from Edward’s look of pure elation, he wasn’t moving it either.

Something was in the attic with them. But if not Robert Thomas, then who?

“Holy shitballs,” William whispered as the glass slipped diagonally across the board, passing over the alphabet. With his eyes trained on where the glass would stop, he expected it to land on yes.

It didn’t. At the last moment, the glass jolted sideways, finally stopping over the word in the top right corner of the board.

Edward read it aloud. “No. So you didn’t die in this room?”

The glass shifted over to rest atop the word Yes .

“Yes, I didn’t. Or yes, I did?” William tested.

Edward didn’t reply. William drew his eyes from the board, looking towards the chair and the rope. All signs had pointed to Robert dying here, in this very room. And yet, the board had suggested otherwise.

Unless it really wasn’t Robert communing through the board.

“Ask the question again,” William prompted, returning his entire focus to the board. “But make it more specific.”

“Did you die in the attic of Hanbury Manor?”

A bead of sweat rolled down William’s spine. But then it did the strangest thing and stopped at the base, turned its direction and rolled back up. His entire body froze, every muscle seizing as the sweat continued to paint shapes across the skin beneath his clothes.

The planchet didn’t move.

“Edward,” William forced out, although it felt as though his jaw had completely clutched shut.

“I’m okay,” he answered, seeing the lines of worry and the sheer panic plastered across William’s face. “Do you want to stop?”

How could William answer? How could he say what he wanted to say without sounding crazy?

“Is there… something behind me?”

Edward moved his worried gaze from William to the room behind him. William focused on the reflection in his wide, brown eyes but saw nothing but the shifting outline of a door.

“No, nothing.”

“I felt something. At least, I think I did.” William sucked in a breath. The sensation had stopped, just like that, gone in the beat of a moment as if it had never happened. “It’s gone now.”

And yet William didn’t really believe himself. Because maybe whatever, or whoever, was in the attic with them hadn’t gone completely. There was no explaining in words, but there was a darkness to the room. The dust-ridden air was charged like a storm would sweep in and cause havoc.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Keep asking it questions,” William demanded, wanting this over. “Let’s get this over with.”

This time, Edward hesitated, far too transfixed in his worry for the man sitting opposite him. But then another question slipped from his paling lips, directed to whatever was in the room with us.

“Teddy Jones, are you in the room with us?”

It was the first time Edward had voiced the possibility that Teddy had died in Hanbury, too.

They both knew he never made it to the army, which opened questions such as what happened to him or who forged the telegram announcing Teddy’s death.

But as of yet, neither had suggested he died here, even though the signs were certainly pointing to it.

The glass moved again. It slithered away from the word “no,” stopped just shy of the word “yes,” and then jolted back over “no,” coming to another stop.

Although the answer was clear as day, it still created far more questions.

“I don’t understand,” William said, unable to take his eyes off the board. “Why would anyone else be haunting Hanbury? We know Robert died here, we have a hunch about Teddy. Maybe someone else too…”

Edward didn’t answer at first. When he did, his deep voice cracked enough to make William finally look up.

He’d gone a pale white, almost blue, beneath his eyes.

It was as if the blood had drained from his entire body in a single instance.

“Unless it isn’t a place, but a person, that a spirit has attached to. ”

The glass screamed across the board, stopping over the word yes and not moving from it.

“Fuck,” William gasped again.

Whatever was there with them had just agreed.

“Fuck, indeed.” Edward shifted, eyes not blinking for worry he’d miss something.

“Last time, the board answered to me only,” William said. “This time, it’s only answering to you.”

“Because whatever – whoever, is deciding to speak through the board seems to be connected to me. And as much as I usually adore the attention, this makes me feel a tad bit sick.”

William understood the concept of a spirit being attached to a place. But a person – that made him feel unwell too.

“Maybe ask it who it is? To spell their name or something?”

It was an obvious answer, yet Edward hesitated. Ignored William actually. The question that he did ask was odd to William, as though Edward was trying to decide for himself through the process of elimination.

“How did you die?” Edward’s voice filled around the attic. Unnaturally.

William, the room, even the entire world outside it, seemed to take a collective breath in and paused.

The glass moved. It shifted down to the alphabet and stopped on three letters in turn. William read them out as if he were a contestant in some spelling competition.

“C. A.”

Ca . William’s brow creased as confusion overcame him, whereas Edward didn’t look confused. He didn’t even seem surprised with the answer.

“I think we should stop,” Edward snapped. “We did this to get answers about Robert and Teddy, and whatever is here with us isn’t going to give them–”

The glass moved without the need for a question. Keeping their fingers on the upturned bottom was hard as it flew from letter to letter.

“Stop,” Edward shouted at the board, a large vein bulging across his forehead. “Stop it!”

But the glass ignored him. It happened so fast that William couldn’t tell what it was spelling. It finally came to rest on the letter R.

C.A.R

Edward was breathless, his chest rising and falling, his skin tinged with a slight green tone. He looked terrible. The whites of his eyes had stained red, his spare hand tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, his proud Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each dry swallow.

“Close the board,” William said, wanting nothing more than to gather Edward up in his arms and offer him a lick of comfort compared to what he’d given him. “Close it now.”

But Edward couldn’t speak. Didn’t move. He could barely do anything but just look, dumbfounded, at the board. William took matters into his own hands, remembering that he just had to say goodbye to the entity and move the glass to the respective word.

“Goodbye–”

The glass shot out from both of their hands, moving to the word “no”. It was refusing to leave. There wasn’t even a point trying to grapple for it back. Because as William jolted over the board, trying to catch it, the glass continued to move.

“Please, please,” Edward began to scream. His broken pleas soaked up by the manor, then spat back out. “Please, stop it. Don’t do this to me!”

William spelled the letters out, whilst Edward begged for it to stop. Out of everything he expected it to spell, the word that followed was at the bottom of his list of possibilities. No – not a word.

It was a name.

“A.R.C.H.I.E.”