Rhayven House (6 page)

     “You make a valid point.”

~ ~ ~

     Back downstairs, Ian and Toby walked into the room that would be the living room again in two to three months. Light flooded in through the broken windows, illuminating the ruined room.

     “Can you really see past the present condition to what it’s going to look like when you’re done?” Toby asked, as if reading Ian’s thoughts. “Or haven’t you thought that far ahead?”

     Nodding, Ian said, “I can envision it—the colors, the furniture, the lights, and everything else. I’m sure stuff will change here and there along the way until I get it exactly the way I want it to be, but for the most part I can picture it. This is a chance for me to start fresh and see what I can do with my life.”

     “Just don’t throw out all your furniture and stuff so you can buy more. That’d be a waste.”

     “Most of my furniture will make the transition to this house. I’m sure I’ll eventually need other things, as I continue the reno after I move in and get more rooms finished.”

     Ian knew he wanted some of those giant carved wooden giraffes. He’d limit himself. They came in so many styles; he didn’t want to go overboard and turn into one of those hoarders. Maybe a few would be enough and not give the impression he was attempting to simulate the savannas of Africa.

    
I could have a family of them. I'd give 'em all names and they could stand right there in the corner of the living room and ward off evil...or whatever it is giraffes do
, he thought to himself.

     Toby’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Pay attention. Hey! Hello. Are you still on the planet? You’re acting like one of the replacements from
The Day Mars Invaded Earth
, except you’re not in black and white. Hey.” Toby snapped his fingers. “Focus, Dr. Fielding. What is going on?”

     “Just thinking, Toby.”

     “About?”

     “Giraffes.”

     Toby blinked a couple times. “Um, okay.” It was an odd subject to be thinking about at the moment. “You feel like expanding upon the subject of giraffes or should we move along?”

     “Move along.”

     “That’s what I suspected. I can’t believe all this woodwork is still intact after being exposed for however long to the elements,” Toby said, looking at one of the carved ravens. “You know this stuff sells for a fortune when it’s salvaged from old houses before they’re torn down. Sell it and make some cash.”

     “No.” Ian crouched down to tie his shoe. “I doubt it’s been exposed all that long; there’d be a lot more damage to the house. Probably the extent was rain blowing in through the broken windows, but there’s no evidence of massive flooding or anything.” He stood up again. “I like the birds. They give Rhayven House character.”

     “You’re naming the place Rhayven House?”

     “Yep. I think that’s its name already. Why should I change it?”

     Opening the front door, Toby looked back and said, “Just when I think you can't get any stranger. When’s the big renovation starting?”

     Ian thought he heard something. “As soon as we get all the permits necessary. Hopefully in a couple weeks or less,” Ian said. He heard whatever it was again. “Did you hear that, Toby?”

     “What?” Walking back into the house from the porch, Toby stood and listened for a minute. “I don’t hear anything. What did you think you heard?”

     Ian shook his head quickly. “Not sure. I don't hear it now. Something. Maybe nothing.”

     “Can you be more specific?” Toby asked.

     “Something. Maybe clinking or cracking…I don’t know exactly.”

     “Probably just the wind or a piece of broken glass falling out of a window. Don’t worry about it,” Toby said. “This house has been standing here empty for years. It’s not going to spontaneously collapse just because you bought it.”

     “Yeah.” Ian walked out the door, only to turn around and come back inside again. “I almost forgot. I wanted to take those raven skeleton keys with me.” He went to the kitchen and grabbed them off the countertop. Bouncing them in his hand, he said, “It was worth buying the house just to get the keys, I think.” And he grinned. “Maybe I should get special insurance for them.”

     “Costly collection of old keys,” Toby said as he bounced the toe of his shoe against the door frame. “Would've been cheaper to go to a flea market and find some. But it’s too late to back out now.”

     “Right.” Ian held them up and jingled them. “Like you could find these at a flea market.”

     “Hold your breath and before you know it, your house will be ready for you to move in. Make sure you properly secure
Heckle and Jeckle
house,” Toby said as he watched his friend lock up.

     “Jokes about all the ravens? I'm pretty sure they were crows. How about the house of
Huginn
and
Muninn
,” Ian countered, “because they're Odin's ravens; therefore, they come with the power and the favor of a god. You can't beat that pedigree.”

     “Okay, that's acceptable. I bet you can't wait until the renovations you need are done. Then you can embark upon the unenviable task of packing up your stuff and hauling it out here—unless you plan on hiring movers to do it for you.”

     Pocketing the keys, Ian said, “I think it would be faster and cause less stress if I hired a moving company. Shouldn't break the bank and it would accomplish the task a whole lot faster than me and a certain friend”—he winked—“trying to do it.”

     Toby pulled out sunglasses and put them on. “Hire professionals. I'm not helping you again. Ever. You're a pain in the ass. I nearly needed therapy after I helped you.”

     “It wasn't that bad.”

     “It was a whole lot worse. It took three times as long as it should have because of how weird you are about people touching your possessions.”

     “I'm not that bad.”

     “I repeat my earlier statement: You're a pain in the ass, pal.” Toby opened the car door. “Get in; I'm starving. We need to go get food.”

     “I could eat.”

     “How about the Chinese buffet place you took me to last time? I liked those cucumber roll things they made,” Toby said. “And their fried rice didn't have scrambled eggs in it. You know how I hate that. You remember those sushi rolls they had?”

     Ian got in the car and put on his seat belt. “With rice on the outside and cucumber, avocado, and ginger on the inside.”

     Toby pondered and then asked, “Can you really consider it sushi without meat?”

     “Don't know.” Ian started the car and put it in gear. “But I'm not eating any animals from the ocean, raw or cooked.” He drove slowly, new white stones crunching beneath the tires. “Take a good, long look. The next time you see it, I should be moved in—barring an apocalypse of Biblical proportion.”

     “From your lips to the universe, dude,” Toby said.

     Ian winked. “
Bhajelo Ji Hanuman!”

Six

     Sunshine really brightened the place up and chased away most of the eldritch atmosphere. Ian paused for a bit after he pulled in to contemplate what the house would look like once the old paint was scraped away and it was painted bright white. Getting out of the car, he gazed upon the façade of the house, his eyes moving from window to window—the replacements sparkling like diamond jewelry on an elderly dowager countess. They were making great progress and Ian hoped he might be able to move in sooner than expected.

     Jeff, the main contractor, walked outside and met Ian in the driveway.

     “Looks like you’re making serious progress. Sounds like it, I mean anyway,” Ian said as he stepped up to shake Jeff’s hand. “Impressive.”

     “Yes, it’s moving faster than we’d anticipated. Once the roof and the electric are completed, putting the flesh on the good bones is usually pretty straightforward. We’ve gotten a good bit done since the last time you were out to have a look two days ago. But the reason I called you out here…” He stopped and scratched his jaw, averting his eyes. Hesitating to buy time.

     “Not something with the house, at least that’s what you said on the phone.”

     “Well, it is and it isn’t.” Jeff looked back at Ian. “Nothing to impede the project, not like that. Or cost you more money, so put your mind at ease about it. Everything is coming along great.”

     “Very reassuring.” Ian shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Jeff was beating around the bush about something. That made Ian nervous. “We can talk in private if you want.” The hammering and drilling from inside the house, presumably dry walling efforts, drifted out into the yard.

     “Let’s walk over here. I just don’t want you to think I’m a nut job for bringing this up,” Jeff said as they made their way over to the edge of the yard, “but I’m just going to blurt it out and you can take it for what it's worth, if it's worth anything to you.”

     Wishing he’d brought a pack of smokes with him, Ian braced himself and wished Jeff would indeed spit out whatever he wanted to say.

     “I know you haven’t actually lived here yet, but you’ve spent some time in the house, maybe just looking around and making notes and stuff like that. Don’t think I’m off my rocker; I’m a regular guy with a sound mind, but there have just been some…some odd things happening around here.” Jeff jerked his head towards the house. “Especially in your house.”

     Not knowing how to respond, all Ian could muster was, “Okay.”

     “Do you know anything about the history of this house?” Jeff asked, picking at his fingernail instead of looking at Ian.

     “Uh, no.”

     “Nothing at all?”

     “Nope.”

     “Okay. So you bought it with pretty much zero information. You'd be shocked at the number of people who buy houses and property online, sight unseen.”

     “I never knew it was here until you called about the renovation. Makes me wonder how many people know about it.” Nervous energy wafted off him.             

     “Tell me what’s been going on, Jeff. I promise not to jump to the conclusion you're nuts.”

     Jeff took a breath and started talking. “The first thing I recall, was hearing what sounded like footsteps upstairs. I would’ve put it off to the wood drying out if there had been a fire, one requiring thousands of gallons of water had been pumped in to put it out. Or, if there’d been huge leaks during a torrential downpour.

     He continued, “That’s what I've heard, what some of the other guys have heard—what sounded like somebody walking around upstairs. We’ve heard somebody yell our names from another room, myself included, on a couple of occasions.”

     Ian chewed on his bottom lip and then said, “I get what you’re saying. Weird sounds.” He thought about it and then said, “I admit, I think I heard something that could have been faint piano music one afternoon.”

     “A couple of the electrical guys said they heard a piano being played.” Jeff shrugged.

     Rocking back on his heels, Ian said, “You know there was an old piano in the house when I bought it. Ruined beyond repair, so I had it hauled off with anything else I marked as junk and didn't want.”

     “I could’ve written off most of it, if not all of it, as just messed up coincidence or mind tricks,” Jeff said, “but then something happened this morning and I don’t have an explanation for it—except to say it was real or I imagined it real good.”

     “I'm listening.”

     Blowing out a plume of white-gray smoke, Jeff started telling Ian about what had happened that morning before he called Ian. “I got here earlier than usual, about a half hour or so, and started looking over the equipment and supplies for the morning to make sure we had everything to get the drywall up and mudded in the living room.”

     The contractor flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and continued. “Standing just outside the living room, I debated with myself whether or not I should run into town during lunch, when I heard the footsteps upstairs start—the same as any other time except this time they didn't stop at the top. They started coming down the stairs, sounding for all the world just like somebody was there.” Jeff held up his hands. “But nothing.”             

     Ian asked, “You heard the footsteps as plain as day, but you didn't see anyone or anything coming down the stairs?”

     Nodding, he squeezed the cigarette between thumb and forefinger to make the cherry fall to the ground, so he could grind it out with his shoe. “Nobody. Not a thing. This couldn't be explained by the house drying out. Whatever it was continued walking down, paused for a little bit at the bottom, and then walked right by me and into the kitchen. I've never experienced anything like it.”

     Clearing his throat, Jeff looked over at the house. “It sure as hell sounded like footsteps, but I kept telling myself it could be anything, like the house still settling after all these years.

     “What I saw made me a believer,” Jeff said, his voice a low monotone. “A woman. She stood right there in the kitchen. Not see-through or hazy or anything like you hear described on those shows on TV. From her head to her feet, it was a whole woman standing in the kitchen and looking right back at me. She wasn't in the house when I did my morning check.

     He looked around. “She didn't come in through the front door—that's the only door I unlocked.”

     Not knowing how he should respond, Ian stood there quietly digesting the information. He finally managed to ask, “What happened then?”

     “Before I could move, she moved off the side and out of my sight. Making a beeline for the kitchen, I looked around the corner to see if I could see her.” Jeff shook his head and reached for another cigarette. He offered one to Ian but he declined. “She'd disappeared into thin air. I know she didn't go out the back door because it was still locked—unless she had a key and I don't think that was the case, if you get my drift. It all happened so quickly, I don't think I could describe her, even if you held a gun to my head. All I can tell you is it was a woman.”

     Ian got the drift. “So you think my house is haunted. Fantastic.”

     Spreading his hands out, Jeff said, “Hey, I'm not saying anything. I'm just telling you what I've seen and heard since I've been working here. You can believe me or not.” He spit and muttered, “
Spukhaus.
”

     “It's not a question of whether or not I believe you. Let me ask you something.”

     Jeff nodded.

     “Have you ever felt threatened or...” Ian searched for the words he wanted. Writing skills be damned, he couldn't come up with the word he wanted. “I don't want to describe it as dark energy. Does that make sense?”

     “You want to know if I've got a good or bad vibe. I honestly don't know. I'm sorry. I don't have any insight. I just wanted to talk with you and get your take on the situation.” Jeff took another drag of his smoke, turned his head, and blew out the smoke. “Mainly, I wanted to put my mind at ease.”

     “Yeah, I understand. I haven't experienced anything remotely like what you've described when I've been here.”

     “Keep it in mind because you'll be moving in before too long,” Jeff advised. “I couldn't in good conscience not tell you, when I know you'll be living here alone. What you do with it is up to you.” He held out his hand; Ian gripped it and shook.

     “I understand and I appreciate,” Ian said.

     “You want to do a walk-through since you're here, see what we've done since the last time you were out?” Jeff asked.

     “Sure. I'm always up to see the progress.”

~ ~ ~

     Ian was quiet on the drive back into town. He spent the time thinking.

     On one hand, living in a house with a ghost could be potentially dangerous. He'd watched a lot of allegedly-true TV shows on the subject and knew what could happen. Some of the claims were awful.

     On the other hand, sharing the house with a ghost could be pretty awesome, as long as it wasn't an annoying poltergeist or one of those spirits who would constantly terrorize him.

     As a writer, it would be a wicked cool subject to talk about during interviews. Ghosts were always a seminal favorite and were especially big this year. The best scenario would be he could write a book on his experiences in the house. A ghostly memoir, if you would. True life ghost stories were something the public always wanted to know more about.

     Maybe it would turn out to be a mystery, like in the 1944 film he liked so much,
The Uninvited
, he thought. But he knew he wouldn't be able to deal with all the midnight wailing. It would drive him nuts, not to mention scare the living hell out of him.

     Or a little funnier, like the film
Curtain Call
from 1998, except Ian didn't think he had a lot of talent in the comedic timing arena.

     Possibly a combination of the two—sinister with a twisted sense of humor.

     He liked that idea.

     But he wouldn't hold his breath because the whole thing seemed too good to be true. So what if the contractors had had a couple odd things happen in the house? That didn't necessarily mean there was a spirit in residence. He'd reserve judgment until he'd actually moved in and spent more time there. Not jump the gun.

     Embrace the ghost or run the other way.