Zane had nearly forgotten that Garrett was friends with one of the most popular ghost hunters in the industry until Garrett sat up in his chair, staring at his phone and looking excited, and announced that Bridget was finally returning to Solitude to resume her investigations of Stilgarth and the Gravemother.
It had been two days since they’d found the Gravemother hovering over Emma’s bed, and so far the ghost had yet to make another appearance, much to Zane’s relief.
Unfortunately, she’d been spotted all over town instead. Mr. Malorant had sworn he’d seen her apparition inside his grocery store, drifting through the fruit stands. A tourist had been adamant that he’d seen her while refilling his car, haunting the gas station sushi. A few kids at school said she was hiding inside one of the bathrooms after they’d snuck in at night, but their descriptions of the ghost as being pretty made Zane suspicious as to what they’d actually encountered, and they’d been given detention anyway for inadvertently revealing their trespassing.
Most of the eyewitness sightings were still in areas around Stilgarth. Zane wasn’t sure how this was possible, since far too many people had taken to camping out there at night after the news broke. They finally stopped after Zane’s father announced a ban on anyone entering the premises, unwilling to be responsible for any more accidents. On the plus side, Zane’s father’s surveyor friend had assessed the soil conditions and declared the place stable, though no one had been able to explain the ground abruptly caving in underneath the excavators.
It sounded like Bridget Montgomery and her Obscura Adventures team had arrived just in time to take advantage of the chaos.
“She said she wrote your dad and asked for permission to explore Stilgarth Manor, and he agreed after she promised to take all the necessary precautions.” Garrett was all but bouncing in his seat. “You’re going to enjoy this, Zane. She’s spent eight years investigating ghosts, so she’s the closest thing to a professional that we’ve got.”
“If you say so,” Zane said diplomatically. “But what’s she gonna do that you and your ghost team haven’t already done?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I think we’re a pretty good crew, but we don’t have access to a lot of the equipment that she does. Also, Bridget’s a bit of a medium herself, and she’s been possessed a bunch of times before on camera. Like scratches appearing down her back, that sort of thing. She’s even had a lot of cool celebrities as special guests! She had Holly Veerkamp on once, when they—” Garrett stopped. “You don’t buy into any of this.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Zane protested. “I’m giving your friend the benefit of the doubt. I mean, I don’t really know her, but . . . I trust you, I guess.”
He was still expecting Garrett to be huffy about it, but the other boy beamed happily. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I appreciate it.”
“If they’re as good as you say they are, then can you please ask them about what someone can do to protect themselves if they’re being specifically targeted by a ghost? I don’t want them to know it’s Emma, just if they know of any remedies that work.”
“Don’t worry,” Garrett said confidently. “She’s done practically everything when it comes to ghost hunting, I know she’s got an answer for us.”
• • •
“Sorry,” Bridget Montgomery said, tilting her head up to look at Stilgarth Manor with a thoughtful frown. “I have absolutely no idea.”
The Obscura Adventures crew had arrived the following day, and from all the equipment they were lugging in, it almost looked like they were filming a movie instead of a ghost hunt. Zane wasn’t quite sure what to make of the celebrity, who had come in a sleek rented limousine, though the rest of her crew had come in rental cars and taxis. Despite Garrett’s claim of being her friend, she had ignored him for the most part, circling the manor to find the best angles for the cameras.
“In your email you said I could help with that,” Garrett said, looking disappointed.
“It’s not all that easy, kid. Some ghosts are a little more stubborn than others, so the trick is to figure out what makes them tick, then proceed accordingly.” Bridget flexed her fingers and did a playful one-two punch in the air. “And the Gravemother’s been one of the biggest enigmas I’ve ever encountered.”
Zane wasn’t quite sure he liked this crew, either. With Garrett, Lincoln, and the others, there was an easy camaraderie, since they were friends first before they’d ever been ghost investigators. The team here was too much in a hurry to get to the next task on their list, running to and fro with wires, lights, and props and with barely a word spoken to each other that weren’t orders.
Bridget was now sitting on a chair with a makeup artist working on her, and Zane thought about Mrs. Sevilla hunched over one of her clients inside the embalming room and all the similarities there. “I know that the sightings of her have increased since they tried to demolish the mansion, but have they noticed anything new that she’s done that she hadn’t before?” she asked.
“I already emailed you about that,” Garrett reminded her. “Zane and I’ve seen her, and she always asks for someone named Emmy.”
Bridget frowned. “I don’t recall any mention of an Emmy in the public records. Adam, give it another look, will you?” She paused, her expression thoughtful. “Do I win an Emmy if I find Emmy?” She broke into a guffaw. “Oh, I crack myself up,” she said when she gathered herself. She wiped a stray tear from her eye, composed herself, and addressed the boys. “Is that it, then?”
“What?” Garrett asked, taken aback.
“Look, kid, I’m doing you a big favor. Most haunted places that I step into have more things going on in them: multiple murders and deaths, a dozen or so ghosts wandering the halls. Just last week I shot an episode at a police station over in California, and that was a gold mine—spirits of cops lurking about, apparitions of serial killers, that sort of thing. But in here it’s just the Gravemother. Not even the ghosts of the kids who she supposedly killed. It’s hard to get something interesting going with just that.” She glanced over at Zane and smiled. “They told me that your family now owns Stilgarth.”
Zane nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You ever thought about making up some new ghosts while you’re at it?”
“What?”
“What?” Garrett echoed.
“Bloody footprints leading up to the attic that disappear when you approach. A man in black walking up and down the stairwell. Moaning and scratching sounds in the basement. On her own, the Gravemother isn’t commercially viable. Sure, you’ll hear disembodied voices, but every haunted house’s got disembodied voices. If you wanna make a go at the place, I’d advise you to drum up some new ghosts while you’re here. Sell some shirts and mugs. Do some ghost tours. Trust me, it helps.” She glanced up at the darkening sky. “Perfect time to start filming.”
She hopped off her chair and walked toward one of her cameramen, leaving Garrett looking crushed.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett said to Zane, his cheeks reddening. “It’s just—the first time she came to Solitude she was really nice. Sounded genuine when she said she was interested in the place. I guess the episode she shot of it wasn’t as popular as the rest of her stuff.”
“We could leave—”
Garrett was already shaking his head. “No. She might not be taking this seriously, but we know the Gravemother’s real. Maybe she will find something here anyway.”
From what Zane had gathered, Bridget’s crew had already done preliminary interviews with nearly everyone who’d claimed to have seen the Gravemother. In lieu of spirit boxes, Bridget said they would be using thermal cameras, expensive recorders that could pick up even the slightest sounds, a boom microphone, and something she called an SLS camera, which Zane had to admit looked kind of cool.
“It’ll show us anything in the environment with a human shape, corporeal or not,” Bridget explained as one of her team members showed them a screen display where Bridget appeared in infrared, with some 2-D lines on her that made her look like a human stick figure, moving when she did. “Spirit boxes are for amateurs,” she added with a sniff. “And they make my ears hurt.”
At least there was one thing she said that Zane could agree with.
Two cameramen remained outside, while another followed Bridget in. Zane and Garrett trailed after her, but another assistant told them to stay behind while they filmed Bridget against a series of backdrops: at the bottom of the stairway, looking up at the second floor; in the middle of the foyer, looking deep in thought; and wandering through some of the rooms, gazing into the distance.
“This isn’t ghost hunting,” Zane found himself muttering.
One of the crew members heard him and actually chuckled. “No,” he said. “This is show business.”
They lagged behind the cameraman as he followed Bridget to Harrison Traithe’s room. She’d promised Garrett that any footage with them in it would not make the final cut, but they stayed out of the way just to be sure.
“Well now, Harrison,” Bridget finally said, spreading her arms. Another crew member had brought in a small table, setting down a recorder there. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Still as quiet as the last time I was here. Heard you’ve been very naughty while I was away. Injuring a few people, causing some earthquakes? Or was that your wife? Can you make the house shake for me, too, as a favor between old friends?”
Nothing happened. Bridget tapped on the wall as she walked along its length.
“You didn’t like it when they destroyed the place, did you? Were you only trying to protect your home? They’re gonna demolish it soon. Is that why you’re so angry?”
“Bridget,” one of her crew said, voice rising in excitement, “I think there’s something here.”
Zane peered over the man’s shoulder at the SLS camera he was holding, and his heart leaped.
Bridget was the only one in the room that the camera was capturing on its lens, the odd stick figure superimposed on her form. But there was another figure it was detecting in the farthest corner of the room, standing motionless.
Zane heard Garrett gulp.
Bridget drew close enough to see what was on-screen, and then took a step toward the corner. “Are you here with me tonight?” she asked gently. “Do you want to say something?”
This time there was no need for a spirit box. Zane heard a voice that sounded loud enough for his own ears.
Yes.
“Can you tap on anything in this room to let us know you’re here?”
There was a loud rap somewhere just behind Zane, making him jump. He turned to look back and saw another assistant with his hand flat against the wall.
The guy holding the boom microphone sucked in a noisy breath. “I’m hearing footsteps,” he said.
“No one’s moving,” someone else said.
And then Bridget let out a frantic, noisy gasp, her hands flying toward her throat. “He’s grabbing me by the neck!” she choked out.
Two team members immediately rushed to her side, the other setting down the camera.
“Marks on her throat,” one exclaimed.
“Felt like he tried to pick me up and strangle me for a bit there,” Bridget said, voice still thick. “Give me a minute.”
“Are you kidding me?” Zane muttered. He was sure Bridget had made those marks herself just as he was sure it was her assistant who’d knocked on the wall.
There was a low cry from Garrett, still looking at the camera. Zane glanced down at it and gasped.
There were several stick-figure-like shapes now clustered around Bridget as her team attended to her, but there was one more crawling across the ceiling, and there was no way that was one of the crew.
Zane’s eyes jerked upward, but there was no one there. Instead he heard a voice that sounded like it was coming from a distance, yet loud enough that he recognized who it was.
It was someone calling his name. Garrett’s scared expression told him that he had heard it, too.
“Emma,” Zane gasped.