Page 45 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
“You don’t know that.” He continued staring at his hands, head down. Lucky balled her hands into fists to keep them to herself. She didn’t think they were familiar enough with each other to touch so casually.
Were they?
That first day when she touched his hand to distract him felt like a million years ago. Now there was so much of everything between them. If she were to touch him again, it wouldn’t have the same meaning.
Maverick looked at her, unable to hide the flinch from seeing the state of her eyes again. Lucky wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“I’m sorry I ran out of the room like that. That was me.” She gnawed at her lip. “I got overwhelmed and I—”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. That’s not why I’m here.”
Lucky didn’t dare move as he reached for her hands, uncurling them, holding them, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. He touched his forehead to hers. “Feel better, okay? Call me if you need anything?” he whispered.
She closed her eyes. “Okay.”
15
Lucky positioned her camera at the foot of her bed to record her reactions as she watched the previous caretaker footage. She shared small pieces of her apple slices with Gengar while taking notes on her phone.
Caretaker Number One: Bobbi Grayson. Cheery disposition. Main character energy. Aspiring actress with various work experience, primarily retail. Slept extremely well on night one. Experienced sudden headaches in the early afternoon. Felt compelled to leave the suite but resisted due to overwhelming fear on night two. Abruptly left in the middle ofnight three. During follow-up inquiries, recounted waking up to her deceased guinea pig curled in the crook of her neck and having a conversation with her grandpa, who begged her to stay in the house forever. Confirmed specter: Her grandpa currently lives in Austria and is in decent health.
Caretaker Number Two: Brian Ford-Mackenzie.Very self-assured, borderline arrogant. Family owns a bed-and-breakfast where he worked part-time in high school. Former athlete transitioning to acting. Slept very well on night one. Reported multiple physical ailments including headaches, nausea, and exhaustion in the afternoon. On night two, immediately had difficulty sleeping, with reports of voices speaking to him through the vents, seeing multiple women roaming the halls, and a strong compulsion to walk out the front door. Resorted to locking himself in the suite and turning on loud music until a power outage occurred. Turned in the keys the morning followingnight three. Refused a final interview.
Caretaker Number Three: Eunice Choi. Claimed to have a connection to the “other side” that runs in her family. Exuded a calming presence. Well-traveled with an open mind. Immediately experienced a sudden headache upon entering Hennessee House. Did not sleep night one due to pain. Reported constantly smelling eucalyptus—the exact scent of the candles she used to help her relax. Unable to sleep on night two. Reported hearing the voice of her deceased mother warning her to stay awake. Nearing sixty hours without sleep, reported specters inconsistent with previous Hennessee House activity and acute forgetfulness—deemed to be due to insomnia. Passed out in the kitchen at some point duringnight three. Admitted to the hospital with a diagnosis of exhaustion and severe dehydration. Reportedly does not remember anything from nightthree but refused to return to Hennessee House. States her “ancestors don’t want [her] there.” Has subsequently returned to good health and agreed to be a consultant as needed.
No wonder Maverick approached Lucky with protective guns blazing.
Lucky’s brain was reeling with information, processing through scenarios and proposed answers faster than she could write them down. She began pacing the room, talking into a recorder to catch it all.
This changed everything. Eunice likely had ESP. She was up-front about it, and they hired her anyway—had Lucky been wrong about NQP’s plans? Whatelsedid she and Eunice have in common? What made them different? Did Hennessee’s experience with Eunice make it change its approach?
She speculated that Hennessee hadn’t attacked Eunice so much as clashed with her. Protected by her inherited abilities, Hennessee never got access to her since she never slept. But how did it know what to use to produce a scent for her? And why did she write her name in the attic?
Writing on the wallmusthave created some form of binding agreement with Hennessee because everything escalated past the point of no return afterward. The inverse appeared to be true as well. Lucky resisted writing her name and the house went dormant, save for continuing to give her flowers. A gentle reminder that the offer, whatever it may be, was still on the table.
What, then, was Hennessee’s end game?
Lucky came to a sudden stop in the middle of the room and stared at the wall behind her dresser. She brought the recordercloser to her mouth and said quietly, “I think I’m seeing my first illusion? It’s in the wall, but it’s not clear. I think it looks like letters. AnX? I don’t know how to do the magic eye thing—unfocusing my eyes isn’t working.”
Afraid to look away or even blink, she squinted and turned her head, holding it at different angles. It appeared exactly as Georgia said. The wood suddenlylookeddifferent, as if the grain had changed. “I think it’s definitely anX. Two intersecting slashes and there’s a curved line too. Like anS.” Strangely, she didn’t smell peppermint or feel anything at all, so if it was a message from Hennessee it might not have been a direct one.
She needed more information. Immediately. Fortunately, a gut feeling told her exactly how she could get it.
•••
A few hours later, Lucky spied on everyone from the shadows of the staircase, creeper-mode fully activated.
They’d gathered in the sitting room again. Coworking created an astonishing kind of harmony—alone, together, noses buried in their computers. The soft clicking of their keyboards. Music from their earphones, too faint to discern but distracting enough to notice. The occasional grunt, cough, and sniffle.
Maverick sat in the sunny corner near the window, laptop balanced on his knees. Every so often, he’d pause long enough to bite his thumbnail or rub the pinched frown lines in his forehead. She didn’t realize she was smiling until she felt herself sigh like a lovesick teenager.
Lucky tapped her head against the baluster to knock some sense back into it. Terrible idea considering the lingering pain from her earlier readings, but it got the job done. Incompatibleon an actual fundamental level, their romantic “future” wasn’t bleak—it didn’t have a single hope of existing. He didn’t know it yet, but he didn’t want someone like her complicating his love life. No one did.
Rebel lay in the middle of the floor, staring at the ceiling. Right where they could all see her. Poor Shortcake looked bored out of her mind while the adults busied themselves with anything but paying real attention to her.
“Psst!” Lucky waited before doing it again louder and longer. “Pssssst!”
Rebel spotted her immediately and gasped.
