Sanders reached the hallway an instant before Sue, who dashed from the guest room a few doors down. He switched on the light to see Tom on his back on the hall rug, in front of his office door, gasping and rolling onto his side with the breath knocked out of him.
“What happened?” Sue hurried up as Sanders stepped forward and sank to his knees.
“Tom?” He rested a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Tom swore and coughed.
Sue stopped abruptly, not looking at Tom, but into the blank air just in front of her and the office door.
Behind her, Amanda was also approaching from their room.
“What is it, Tom?” Sanders asked.
Still trying to get his breath, Tom grabbed his arm and scrambled backward against Sanders, seeming to be heaving himself away from a cliff edge. He, too, gazed at the unremarkable space before the office door, eyes wide.
“I don’t know,” Tom panted. “I ... hit something. Or something...?” He looked at Sue, shivering as he held onto Sanders.
Sanders pulled him back from the doorway, Tom pushing up into a sitting position against him.
Sue held out her hand behind, palm out, and Amanda stopped in her tracks. All eyes now upon her and the doorway, Sue reached out in front of her, as if feeling her way in a dark room. She ran her fingers along open air, down and across like a mime, then felt into the doorway itself. Here, she paused, both hands up, gazing at something in the air around her, seeming to listen as well. She stepped into the dim office as Tom snapped behind her, “Don’t.”
His obvious fear made Sanders feel a shiver fly down his own spine, but Sue appeared only thoughtful.
Just inside the office, she sniffed. Sanders remembered what Hansen had told them about a room which always smelled of tea.
He glanced down. “Are you all right?”
Tom nodded. He rubbed the back of his own head, still breathing too fast.
Sue held a hand out to them, not looking around from her examination of the office. “Tom,” she said softly. “Come with me.”
“What?” Tom’s tension increased as he leaned harder against Sanders.
“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sue said. “He reached out to you. Just come and stand here with me and we’ll see what we can get. This isn’t the whole tangled mess in the house. It’s one strong spirit, just like I asked them for.”
“You asked, not me. I only wanted to be left alone.”
“Tom.” Still, her voice was gentle, yet there was something of a remonstrance in it nevertheless. Hand outstretched toward him, she never looked around.
Tom, with the greatest reluctance, seeming to hold his breath, pushed himself to his feet and took her hand. Moving even more slowly, he stepped into the room beside Sue.
“Don’t be afraid,” Sue said. “Nothing here wants to hurt us.”
“Then why’s it feel like they’re trying—?”
“They’re reaching out in the only ways they know how. Just as we do. With our minds and intentions and ceremonies. When we can meet each other halfway, we can truly communicate. And truly understand. Just wait a moment. Be open and wait for them to tell us what they need and how we can help.”
“Ghosts don’t talk to me. It’s you—”
“I beg to differ.”
Tom shivered. Sue remained still, breathing deeply, holding Tom’s hand and waiting.
Sanders stood carefully from the floor, keeping back from the doorway.
“I can smell the tea,” Tom whispered.
“Me too.” Then, in a stronger voice, Sue asked, “How can we help? Is it something in this room?”
They waited. Sanders neither heard, saw, nor smelt anything unusual.
“Manda?” Sue said after a long pause. “Could you call Lars for us? It seems we’ll stay up tonight after all and I feel he should be here.”
Amanda retreated to get a phone from their room.
“A trail...?” Sue said.
“Trail of tea bags,” Tom said. “This was the room we were led to.”
“But we haven’t followed the trail or we wouldn’t be getting that word.”
“Are you?” Tom glanced at her. “I’m just getting black tea in my nose.”
“Yes, the trail is important. Where did it really lead?”
“The final two are still on the floor. There, over to the bookcase.”
It was in the centre of the wall of floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves on the right side of the room which had once been a library or study. Tom kept books and other personal possessions on those shelves. A baseball he’d caught in the stands with his father as a boy, a few copies of the newspapers and journals where he got his start, framed pictures of Sanders, Tom’s family, and his cat, a box of Swiss chocolates which he used for a reward system when he finished writing an article. But there was nothing extraordinary about them. The shelves were half-bare and more striking for the beautiful old woodwork than anything else.
Taking Tom with her, Sue stepped forward to follow the last of the trail. She stopped at the tea bag lying just before the shelf on the wood floor. She reached with her free hand to touch a shelf and hold it, as if checking for a pulse.
Sue bowed her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t get anything from the shelves, any energy that’s connected here. Is there something on here that could be relevant? Do you have any books about ... I don’t know ... soldiers? Swiss history? Military history?”
“None of the above.” Tom looked up and down the shelves, lit only from the hallway. “Topics I avoid, in fact. Or try to. Don’t actually avoid, obviously.”
“Perhaps it’s something else. Something here that you have that’s connected?” She moved her hand along the spines of books, then lightly to other objects in turn. A picture frame, an old newspaper, another frame, another book.
She paused over each object, then stepped back, shaking her head. “So what is it about this shelf? Why this exact point?”
“The shelves themselves? They’re old. They could be connected to ghosts.”
“I don’t get anything from them either. I like to think we’d have some sign when we hit on the right spot, don’t you? I have nothing. Only the room itself, and ‘trail’. Trail to what?”
“I feel like you have a lot of questions for me considering I’m the civilian and you’re the witch,” Tom said.
Sue looked at him for the first time since she’d stepped into the office. She smiled. “You don’t need to be afraid to be in here.”
“I was just clotheslined by something that’s wanting us to be in here. It’s hard for me to take it seriously when you say none of this is harmful.”
“They’re trying to get our attention. A little solid force for you to walk into was one way to do that. It doesn’t mean they want to hurt you. You were upset, it was nighttime, your defences were low. It’s a perfect combination to reach out, just when you’re most susceptible.”
“How did you know I was upset?”
“Geneva knew you were upset, Tom.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Tom looked at the shelf before him. “I didn’t realise we were shouting.”
“Your house has dazzling acoustics. Do you feel anything else?”
“Besides what? Embarrassed, bruised, confused?”
“I mean, anything else in the room? Are you getting anything?”
“No. The air doesn’t even feel thick anymore. I can still smell tea.” He glanced down to the teabag at their feet.
“We should try again and focus on this room. While the energy is strong and we know they’re reaching out to us. I’ll bring the altar and instruments up here.”
Tom nodded, following her to the door as he was still attached to her hand. “So, we’re not actually going to bed, are we?” Tom flushed even as the words left his lips and pulled his hand from hers. “I mean, none of us are going back to bed? We’re staying up like murder mystery theatre?”
“That would be best. As long as they’re trying, we’ll try. I’m going to get dressed and get my things. You may want to do the same. And could you bring London into the office as well? If she’ll come?”
“Sure, she just ran past me a minute ago.” Tom looked awkward now, not meeting Sue’s eyes as he stood in the doorway with his shoulders hunched.
With a word of thanks, Sue went to meet Amanda at their room, telling her they were going back to work.
Tom glanced at Sanders watching him, looked away, seemed about to say something, then just brushed past to return to the master bedroom and find his clothes instead.