High Intensity (11 page)
Zanita looked up and Tyber snapped her picture, brownie in hand with a chocolate fudge rim around her mouth.
"Tyber!"
"Just testing out Mark's instant camera." A whirring sounded and her picture popped out of the Polaroid.
"Ha! Your eyes are closed, Zanita!" Mark grinned. "Looks like you're in brownie ecstasy."
Zanita giggled. "I am."
Chuckling, Tyber tossed the picture onto a side table next to the couch.
"I wonder why ghosts always choose the 'dead' of night to make appearances." Zanita yawned. "Pun intended."
Calendula laughed as she checked one of the instruments for calibration. "Actually, they don't. There have been numerous sightings during daylight hours. However, the majority do seem to occur during the wee hours of night."
"Any theories as to why that is?" Zanita took out her notebook and began jotting down notes for her story.
"Yes, actually, I do. I think that is the time when they can communicate best with us. Our conscious barriers often are lowered at those hours."
"Have you been able to pick up anything psychically on the ghost, Calendula?" Mark called from the corner.
She frowned. "Nothing clear. It's as if I'm being blocked by interference of some kind. We may have more than one spirit at work here, Mark."
"More than one ghost?" Zanita swallowed and cleared her throat. Somehow the idea of many ghosts was… well, spooky.
"Perhaps. I'm not sure. I've been picking up several different energies. It may just be confliction, though."
"Confliction?"
"A term I use to describe obstructed energy patterns."
"Sort of like bad reception on a TV set?"
"Exactly. Zanita, why don't you monitor this camera? It will give you a feel for what we look for."
"Okay. What do I do?"
"Just keep an eye on the motion sensor. If the camera starts to move and focus, we may have a presence. Staying calm is the first rule. Just let us know if you see anything."
"Oh, I'll let you know all right. How do you decide where to set up the cameras?"
The grandfather clock chimed
. "I mapped out the ley lines earlier this evening."
"Ley lines? What are those?"
"Nonsense is what they are," Hubble harumphed.
Calendula exhaled wearily. Hubble was starting to seriously irritate even this complacent woman. "Ley lines are ancient lines of energy that crisscross the earth in a gridlike pattern. The Chinese in their feng shui refer to them as dragon lines and actually believe that the dragon which represents the chi resides in the earth itself."
"What physical proof do you have of these ley lines?" Hubble sat himself down beside a dessert cart that Todd had thoughtfully filled with drinks and an assortment of homemade cakes and cookies. The psi-cog wasted no time in plopping one of the frosted goodies into his mouth.
"The lines themselves cannot be measured magnetically or electronically, if that is what you are implying; but they can be felt psychically and have been known to a affect the movements of pendulums and dowsing rods."
"Of course they do! These pendulums and dowsing rods are held by people who expect them to be affected. It's all power of suggestion!"
Calendula's nostrils flared. "That does not explain why so many paranormal events throughout history seem to occur directly on these ley lines."
That caught Tyber's attention. "More than what would be statistically expected?"
"Yes. What's more, it is believed that psychic occurrences such as ghost sightings may be triggered by psi-sensitive humans who actually activate phenomena along the grid points."
"That's interesting." Tyber thought about the supposition, taking it one step further. "It might explain why those who have demonstrated high 'psi-q's' are inconsistent in their abilities; sometimes scoring high, sometimes low. If their alignment to the grid was important—"
"Excellent point, Doctor. We mainly utilize the ley lines as an aid to predicting possible paranormal activity for our research. I'll have to mention your suggestion to the board. It merits further investigation. If it proves to be correct, you will, of course, be credited with the finding."
Zanita beamed at him.
Tyber wasn't at all sure he wanted to gain a credential from the Society for Fantastical Research. He had simply been playing "what if and had taken it from there. Hubble, however, looked at him as if he had just turned traitor to the cause. Too bad the man was such an insufferable prig. It made it extremely hard for Tyber to go along with him, even though he basically agreed with his scientific approach. Blame it on his pirate nature, but he detested pretentious authority.
"We think that in some cases these psychic energies may give the imagination actual physical substance." Mark walked over to the cart and scooped out a glass of punch from the bowl.
"Whoa." Tyber put his hands up. "Now you've gone too—"
Zanita interrupted him. Her "husband" had a way of starting spirited debates without even trying. She didn't want to lose the focus of the conversation. "How did the study of ley lines come about?"
Tyber narrowed his eyes; he knew exactly what she had done. Damned if she didn't know him too well! He rubbed his jaw. That could prove to be… interesting.
Calendula elaborated. "A man by the name of Alfred Watkins described the alignments of ancient stone circles such as
Stonehenge
in a published work called The Old Straight Track. Of course, it has long been wondered if these primeval sites are aligned to certain astronomical events."
"This is so fascinating!" Zanita turned to Tyber. "Do you remember what I told you about Joe Sprit's hogs?"
Tyber blinked once. Completely nonlinear. "How could I ever forget it?" he drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop.
Zanita turned back to the group. "My grandfathers neighbor Joe has these defiant hogs. Every now and then, for no reason anyone can figure, they bust loose and make a foray through the countryside, causing all kinds of trouble. Snorts and mayhem! It's been going on for years." She circled her hand in the air to indicate the endless procession of pig feet throughout time.
Tyber rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She said snorts and mayhem," he mouthed to himself incredulously.
"Well," Zanita continued blithely on, "last month, Joe brought in a feng shui specialist and—"
Tyber stared at her. "Joe brought in a feng shui master for the Hogs?"
"Ahuh. It seems their pen was set up all wrong and the energy was bouncing all over the place, making the Hogs edgy. That's why they kept busting out. So Joe realigned the pen and they haven't caused any trouble since. He's swearing by it."
"He realigned the pigpen so the energy would be right for the Hogs," Tyber deadpanned.
"Yes. And all this time we thought they took some kind of demented glee in cutting loose."
"Ooo-kay." Tyber stood up and got a glass of punch, wishing Todd had spiked it. At least then there would be a reason for what he was hearing.
"And he painted the wood slats red because—"
The lights in the room began blinking.
Everyone stilled as the lights continued to flash in rapid succession.
Then they just stopped.
"Any readings, Mark?" Calendula asked in a quiet voice.
"There was a slight fluctuation when it started, but that was it. Not enough to call one way or the other."
"But what else could have caused it?" Zanita wondered out loud, looking into her own monitor.
"Todd, do you have any electrical problems?" Tyber calmly asked. "I imagine being out on this end of the island…"
"Occasionally, but when I do, it's not in the form of rhythmic blinking lights. I have noticed that when these odd light pulses occur, they often precede a manifestation of some kind. Well just have to wait and see."
They waited. An hour went by with absolutely nothing happening. Zanita, sitting on the couch next to Tyber, started to nod off in typical Zanita fashion. Tyber leaned over as if he intended to whisper quietly in her ear.
In actuality, he ran the flat of his tongue along the sensitive skin of her neck. Right under her ear.
"EEEE!" Zanita's eyes popped open. "I hate when you do that!"
"Like I always tell you, baby—no sleeping on the job.'
"I wasn't sleeping; I was thinking!"
"Mmmm-hmmm." Tyber stretched out, placing his hands behind his head. "Next time you think, try not to snore so loud."
"I don't snore!"
"If you say so, baby." This was an ongoing thing with them. Tyber constantly teased her that she snored when she knew positively that she did not.
"You always mistake a slight snuffle for a snore."
He raised an eyebrow. "Slight snuffle? Sweetheart, it registered on their monitors like the San Andreas rupturing."
"It did not," she hissed back. "You're only making that up to get to me."
"Why do you think I had to wake you up? That's very sensitive equipment."
"Oh, hush." Zanita peered around the room just to be sure. Everyone was busy with some task or other. Mark and Calendula were checking the cables to the equipment, Todd was making notes on the next day's menu, and Hubble was reading a paperback book. She threw Tyber an "I should have known better" look.
His lips twitched.
Zanita's chin notched up. "I did not believe it for a minute."
He closed his eyes and grinned. "Did too."
"Did not." She turned way from The Wedded Annoyance in a huff, feeling his low laughter ripple up her spine.
Suddenly Mark's motion detector sounded an alarm. They all raced across the room to huddle around the scopes.
"There's something really large moving around in the kitchen." Mark spoke sotto voce.
Tyber glanced down at the top of the paranormal researcher's head in disbelief. Apparently, Mark must have discovered that ghosts could be "spooked" by loud voices. Tyber rolled his eyes.
Mark was getting excited; he turned a dial to sharpen the focus. "It's really big!"
In sync, Tyber and Zanita shifted focus to the corner, automatically checking to see that Hippolito was still lying prone on the floor. He had fallen there in a dead stupor (with all four feet pointing straight up) over an hour ago and hadn't stirred a muscle since. The little pink tongue still poked out of his mouth, silent proof that the act of grooming after dining had proven a bit too much for him.
This was a cat who took his digestion very seriously. Not even a whisker was allowed to twitch as the all-important activity went on.
Tyber and Zanita's eyes met. Both pair were flashing with humor. Cats.
"It's moving to the refrigerator now… look!" Mark pointed to the screen. "There's a smaller anomaly next to the larger one. I've seen this once before, in
England
. It was a double-linked spirit. They are always joined in some common pursuit or purpose. This is very rare." His voice rose in pitch with the uncommonness of the sighting.
Tyber bent over his shoulder and viewed the screen. His well-shaped lips lifted in a secret smile. "I believe I've seen this particular 'anomaly' many times, Mark. And you're right—they do have a common purpose." With that, he got up and strode determinedly toward the kitchen.
"Stop!" Mark warned, trying not to speak too loudly. "You'll ruin the experiment. If you go in there, you'll chase the spirit off."
"I don't think so," Tyber called out over his shoulder as he skirted the circular staircase. Striding through the dining room, he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. What he saw did not surprise him in the least.
Blooey and Hambone both looked up in shock. Caught in the act. The refrigerator light perfectly illuminated their nefarious deed, removing any doubt as to what they were doing. Of course, the raspberry tartlet crumbs lining the two guilty mouths put the period to the statement.
"Captain!"
Tyber crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. "Blooey… and his accomplice in skulduggery, Hambone." He clicked his tongue. "Tsk-tsk. What have you two come to?"
Man and cat swallowed with guilt.
Blooey reached up to the nightcap he always wore to bed and fidgeted with the material. "It was all Hambone's doin', sir! I was sleeping like a babe when the scurvy swabee whapped a paw across me mouth! Sat on me chest and stared me straight in the eyes, he did. Swear he hypnotized me! Next thing I knew, we was coming down here and ravaging the rations."
Tyber raised his brow and stared down at Hambone.
The pirate cat had the nerve to grin up at him. The fact that the cat was missing several teeth added to the charming picture.
"Blooey, I know Hambone and you do this every night."
"You do, Captain?"
"Aye, I do."
Blooey scratched his chin. "Takes some of the fun out of it, doesn't it, Hambone?"